How Advertising Fuels the Modern World’s Worst Instincts

Advertising once promised to be a bridge—connecting people to the products, ideas, and stories they needed. Today, it feels more like a trap. Platforms are no longer content ecosystems; they are machines engineered to keep us hooked, funneling every click, view, and interaction into an endless churn of monetized attention. The more we consume, the more we sell, and the deeper we spiral into a cycle that rewards addiction, sensationalism, and outrage.

The attention economy is no accident. It is a carefully designed system, where the currency isn’t just clicks but trust—trust that can be sold to the highest bidder. Every platform now runs on "sweet, sweet ad money," turning content into bait. Build an audience, then sell that audience. Promote products made halfway across the world, shipped without thought for quality or sustainability. Even the content that critiques this system is monetized within it, co-opted by the same forces it rails against. A scathing video about the ills of corporate greed might sit alongside ads for the very companies it criticizes.

What thrives in this environment isn’t nuance—it’s simplicity, shock, and the primal. Fringe, inflammatory content draws the biggest numbers because it feeds on base instincts: fear, anger, desire. These emotions are like a drug, and advertisers are the pushers. The more sensational the headline, the more addictive the experience. It’s a loop designed to keep people scrolling, buying, and scrolling some more.

Advertising isn’t inherently evil. It can inform, inspire, and elevate. But in its current state, it often feels like it runs on poison. The fear it fuels, the addictions it feeds, the hate it foments—all of it cheapens what could be a tool for connection and empowerment. For every moment of good, there’s an overwhelming sense that the system is broken, that everything has been reduced to filler between commercials.

The irony is inescapable. Platforms that claim to connect us often exploit our disconnection. Advertisers who tout authenticity often thrive on manipulation. And the audience, the precious attention of billions, becomes a product sold and resold in an endless cycle.

If the modern attention economy feels hollow, it’s because it often is. Everything, it seems, has been co-opted into serving the machine. The question isn’t just how we got here—it’s how we get out. How do we reclaim attention not as a commodity but as a human experience? How do we transform advertising from a pusher of poison into a builder of trust? And how do we remind ourselves that there’s more to life than being sold?

Because until we do, everything risks becoming just that—time filler between commercials.