Individual Greedflation Is Destroying Us

People wanting to become wealthy makes it difficult to hold the wealthy accountable.

Photo by Jp Valery.

Like many of you, I’ve spent a great deal of time recently mulling over the many lives entwined with economic strife. In doing so, I have found the term "cost of living" to be an insufficient and somewhat ironic descriptor. For many, it is, in fact, the cost of merely surviving.

In most countries, the phrase has morphed into something far more haunting — a ticking clock that reminds many of the distance between living and staying alive. In the United States specifically, I'm confronted with the profound irony of this land, one that proclaims endless opportunities yet suffocates so many with the weight of mere existence.

When it comes to most citizens of the United States, it does not feel as though we are a rich country. Instead, this often feels like a very poor country that is home to a great deal of very rich people.

At the epicenter of this despair lies the towering monuments of corporations, entities that have grown mightier and more voracious with each passing decade.

Corporations, with their unyielding thirst for record profits, have too often been the architects of these mazes of hardship. Their pursuit of ungodly levels of affluence has not been without cost—a debt that has been exacted upon the very society from which they draw their sustenance. In their wake, countless people grapple with economic devastation, their dreams held hostage by a system that appears increasingly indifferent to their plight.

In the US, the UK and Australia, studies found that excess corporate profits drove 54%, 59% and 60% of inflation, respectively.

Yet, as I reflect upon the state of our world, a deeper disquiet stirs within me. Beyond the towering shadows of corporations, beyond the stark ledgers of profit and loss, lies a subtler, perhaps just as insidious issue — an ailment of individual spirit and decency.

A few days ago, I watched a video of a young woman on TikTok discussing how she charges small businesses $10,000 to design their websites, each of which takes her no more than a day. This has led her to becoming a millionaire before the age of twenty-five.

To the casual observer, her story might epitomize the American Dream: youthful innovation combined with the promise of exponential upward mobility in the era of technology. Which was reflected in the hundreds of comments praising her and asking how they could do the same. Yet, I found myself pausing, peering closer into this mirage of easy success.

As someone with an MBA in marketing, that type of money didn’t make sense to me for a simple one-day website. So I watched a few more of her videos and discerned a discomforting reality beneath her story. The businesses she served were unaware of the disproportionate value exchange in their transaction with her. They paid exorbitant sums for what were essentially templated designs they could hire someone to do for a fraction of the cost. To put it plainly — she is exploiting her clients.

This is the issue of greedflation not just manifesting at a corporate level, but at an individual level as well.

On the surface, greedflation is a straightforward concept — where corporate greed and unchecked ambition drive up the price of goods and services, inflating costs beyond the bounds of reason or fairness. Which is exactly what is happening currently in our society. But beneath this surface understanding lies a labyrinth of history, power, and exploitation that needs unpacking.

Greedflation is not just an economic term; it's a manifestation of a legacy. It's born of the same spirit that once commodified bodies in the transatlantic slave trade, that pushed Indigenous peoples off their lands in the name of expansion, that turned the summer of 2020 after the murder of George Floyd into ads for McDonalds and Walmart, that has repeatedly chosen profit over people.

While the actors have evolved and the commodities changed, the narrative remains eerily consistent: power structures exploiting the vulnerable to further amplify their wealth and dominance.

It's a story deeply intertwined with America's own tale of "manifest destiny"— a country built on the notion of endless frontier, endless growth, and endless acquisition. But when the frontier is a myth, when growth comes at the expense of the many, what we're left with is a system where the few, driven by insatiable greed, push costs higher and higher, leaving a vast swath of the population grappling with the aftershocks. The price isn't just felt in the dollars and cents of a stretched paycheck, but in the very fabric of communities torn apart by economic stratification.

The runaway train of capitalism, unchecked by morality or communal responsibility, has led us to one inevitable destination: a society where wealth has accumulated at the top, and the rest are left to fight over the scraps.

But, what happens when these sorts of economic sins manifest not just in the hallways of corporations, but in the very communities of individuals that are already being thinned by the economy?

I have been stunned and saddened as we bear witness to the rise of personal greedflation, an unsettling undermining of any communal concepts. It's one thing for faceless entities, corporations shaped by profit-driven shareholders, to heedlessly pursue affluence; it's quite another when individuals, with faces, histories, and connections, do the same to each other.

Increasingly, individuals have succumbed to a feverish quest for wealth, even if it demands the sacrifice of those suffering in the same economic pits.

Some have believed that the spirit of enterprise and ambition, deeply ingrained in the Western societal ethos, would be the wind beneath the wings of a society aspiring for collective upliftment. Yet, this ambition, unbridled and unchecked, has almost always morphed into a force both corrosive and divisive. The aspiration to not just succeed, but to tower, to eclipse, to amass by any means necessary, has birthed a culture where exploitation is not just an unintended consequence but, at times, a chosen strategy.

And it seems that the profound danger of our age is not just the pervasiveness of this greed, but its glamorized portrayal, often celebrated as business acumen and entrepreneurial grit. Social media, reality TV, and the ever-present realm of the internet have submerged, and nearly drowned, most of society in a ceaseless stream of excess, where every flicker of our screens brings forth shimmering tales of extravagance.

The digital age, rich in its offerings, comes laden with grave responsibilities. Platforms like TikTok, with their global footprint, amplify narratives, both inspiring and questionable. The story of this young web designer isn't an isolated incident but a symptom of a deeper ailment. We, as consumers of content, are constantly fed tales of rapid success, often at the expense of ethical considerations.

Such unabashed displays aren't just mere images; they are potent creators of longing. It's as if these pixelated spectacles sing to our deepest insecurities, saying, "Here lies the elixir of validation." And in a society that has been meticulously sculpted to equate wealth with worth, who wouldn't want to gulp down that elixir?

While many before us aspired for comfort, stability, and perhaps a modest surplus, today’s ambitions, as mirrored in the glow of our devices, are of a different nature. The modern sense, as defined by the ever-watchful eye of social media, clamors not for mere success, but for spectacle. Not for contentment, but for conquest. To be wealthy today isn't just to have, but to flaunt. And, ominously, it is this flaunting that is often more desired than the wealth itself.

What happens when generations, armed with these beliefs and the tools to make it happen, step forth into the economy? They see the path to this ornate end as one that must be treaded upon at any cost. Morality, ethics, and even self-worth can become casualties in this relentless pursuit. And the economy becomes more devastating for anyone who is not wealthy.

Each act of individual gluttony, while perhaps seemingly insignificant in isolation, aggregates into a larger, more insidious phenomenon. As these acts multiply, they shape policies, influence decisions, and harden into structures. The ravenous appetite of the few, unchecked by conscience or compassion, begins to monopolize resources, opportunities, and, crucially, power.

When such power is wielded with the singular goal of personal enrichment, it inevitably prioritizes short-term gain over long-term communal sustainability. It becomes a force that redirects wealth upwards, draining from the many to satiate the insatiable few. The working class, that great majority toiling in the engine rooms of this nation, find themselves shackled to an ever-accelerating treadmill, where the promise of upward mobility grows more illusory with each passing day.

But the cost is not merely financial. It is measured in hopes dashed, in families fractured under economic strain, in the erosion of communities once bound by shared prosperity. Individual greed, in its relentless pursuit, turns its bearer away from the interconnectedness of society. In their quest for more, the greedy few often dismantle the very ladders they themselves once climbed, leaving swathes of the population trapped in the basements of opportunity.

Consider, for instance, the predatory practices of certain landlords, who, driven by profit, displace long-standing residents in pursuit of gentrification. Thus, destroying a community and history in the name of more profits, while already running a profitable business. Each act of individual greed, like ripples in a pond, extends its consequences far and wide, touching lives often far removed from the epicenter.

This is not to say that individual ambition is inherently malicious. But ambition, devoid of empathy, of a sense of duty to one's fellow citizen, is a dangerous thing.

To witness a person, raised in the very streets and classrooms as you, adopt the toxic tactics of corporate greed is both heartbreaking and infuriating. When an individual trades their moral compass for materialism, the communal fabric — that intricate weave of trust, empathy, and shared struggle — tears irreparably. It is a betrayal that is felt keenly because the perpetrator is not some distant boardroom of executives but someone who was once "one of us."

By emulating the corporate model, these individuals perpetuate a dangerous fantasy. They tout the myth that success is a zero-sum game, that for one to rise, others must fall. This isn't just about money. This is about redefining the very essence of success in our society — not as collective uplift but as individual supremacy.

But beyond the socio-economic implications, what is often lost in this ascent to excessive wealth is the human cost. Every customer they exploit, every worker they undervalue, is a narrative of families struggling and communities destabilized. The repercussions send a shock outwards: when one member of a community is oppressed, the entire community bears the weight of that oppression.

The sort of wealth chase we are seeing isn't merely unnecessary; it is violent. It is a hoarding of resources, opportunities, and possibilities. To own ten houses when thousands are houseless, to toss out old fast fashion outfits when many can barely clothe their children — this isn't just disparity; it's a moral crisis. One can't help but wonder: At what point does the glittering allure of affluence become a gilded cage, trapping its pursuer in a relentless cycle of wanting more and never having enough?

The hard truth is that individuals practicing personal greedflation are not anomalies; they are a reflection, a symptom of a society that has long equated worth with wealth. This dangerous paradigm isn't just the inheritance of the corporate Western world; it's a legacy that we all, unwittingly, participate in and perpetuate.

To counteract this, it is imperative to redefine success, to champion narratives that prioritize collective well-being over individual gain. It is a daunting task, for sure, but our shared history and our shared future demand nothing less. Only by dismantling these toxic aspirations, both at a corporate and individual level, can we hope to forge a society that truly values all its members. And in this reimagined world, perhaps we can finally decouple the price of living from the profound cost of existence.

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