Where do we live?

We live in a world where everything comes with a price tag, even our hopes.

That sounds dramatic, I know. But have you ever paused and asked yourself why we’re constantly in a rush, why success feels like a race, and why rest feels like guilt? There’s a word for this hidden system we’ve grown up in: neoliberalism.

It’s not just a fancy term economists throw around. It’s real. And it shapes the air we breathe, the choices we make, and even the way we perceive ourselves and others.

So, what even is neoliberalism?

Let me keep it simple — neoliberalism is the idea that markets should rule everything. Less government, more private companies. More competition, less cooperation. It’s the belief that if everyone just works hard enough, they can “make it.” Sounds fair, right?

But here’s the thing: it’s a lie wrapped in pretty words.

The Glorified Hustle: Productivity as Our Only Worth

One of the most brutal effects of neoliberalism is how it romanticizes the struggle. We are constantly told to “grind,” to “hustle,” to “never settle.” We see motivational posters with slogans like “sleep when you’re dead” and social media feeds flooded with images of entrepreneurs working 18-hour days. This relentless pursuit of productivity is presented not just as a path to success, but as a moral imperative. To be idle is to be wasteful, to be unproductive is to be worthless.

But deep down, most of us are just tired. Our value is inextricably tied to our output, our ability to generate profit, or our capacity to advance in a competitive landscape. This constant pressure leads to widespread burnout, anxiety, and a pervasive sense of inadequacy. We measure our self-worth by our paychecks, our job titles, or the material possessions we accumulate. This isn’t just a personal failing; it’s a systemic consequence.

Under neoliberalism, if someone is poor, it’s “their fault.” The narrative is that they didn’t work hard enough, weren’t smart enough, or lacked the entrepreneurial spirit. If someone is rich, it’s because they “earned it” through their sheer effort and brilliance, regardless of inherited wealth, connections, or exploitative practices. There’s no space in that logic for systemic inequality, historical injustices, or just plain bad luck. This mindset actively kills empathy, creating a society where compassion is seen as a weakness and individual suffering is dismissed as a personal failing rather than a societal symptom.

Consider the stark realities of this system. In the United States, for example, the median household income in 2023 was approximately $74,580, yet millions struggle to afford basic necessities. Meanwhile, the wealthiest 1% of Americans hold more than 30% of the nation’s wealth. This immense disparity isn’t simply a result of individual effort; it’s a product of policies that favor capital over labor, deregulation that allows unchecked corporate power, and tax structures that benefit the rich. When we ignore these systemic factors, we perpetuate the myth that poverty is a personal choice, rather than a consequence of an economic system designed to concentrate wealth at the top.

Community Turned Into Competition: The Erosion of Social Bonds

I come from a place where people used to help each other. We used to knock on neighbors’ doors, ask about their day, sit together in silence and still feel whole. There was an inherent understanding of mutual support, a collective safety net woven from shared experiences and genuine care. Now, even friendships feel transactional. Even helping someone sometimes comes with a hidden price — a favor to be returned, a future obligation, or a subtle expectation of reciprocity.

Neoliberalism has taken the soul out of society. It turns us against each other in ways we don’t even notice. The workplace becomes a battleground where colleagues are rivals vying for the same limited promotions or resources. One promotion means someone else didn’t get it. One person’s success becomes another’s failure. This scarcity mindset, fueled by constant competition, erodes trust and fosters a sense of isolation. We begin to view others not as fellow human beings, but as competitors, or as means to an end.

This competitive ethos extends beyond the workplace. In education, schools are increasingly run like businesses, competing for funding and students, often at the expense of collaboration and holistic development. Healthcare, too, has become a commodity, with access often determined by ability to pay rather than by need. The very fabric of community, which relies on cooperation and shared well-being, frays under the relentless pressure of individualistic competition.

Think about the declining rates of civic engagement and social trust. Studies show a significant decrease in participation in community organizations and a growing sense of distrust towards institutions and even fellow citizens in many neoliberal economies. For instance, a 2022 survey found that only 31% of Americans trust each other, a significant drop from decades prior. This erosion of social capital is a direct consequence of a system that prioritizes individual gain over collective good, leading us to believe that love, kindness, or community can’t be “afforded” or are simply irrelevant in the grand scheme of market forces.

Freedom? Or a New Kind of Slavery?: The Illusion of Choice

They say neoliberalism brings freedom — “freedom of choice,” “freedom of market,” “freedom to grow.” On the surface, this sounds appealing. We are presented with an endless array of consumer products, career paths, and lifestyle options. The promise is that if you work hard, the world is your oyster.

But isn’t it funny that so many of us feel more trapped than ever? Trapped in crushing debts, in cutthroat competition, in pervasive anxiety. We’re “free” to work three jobs to survive. In countries like the United Kingdom, the number of people working multiple jobs has increased significantly, with over 1.2 million people holding down more than one job in 2023, often out of necessity to make ends meet. We are “free” to watch billionaires hoard unimaginable wealth while we struggle to pay rent or afford healthcare. The richest 2,640 billionaires globally held a staggering $12.2 trillion in wealth in 2023, an amount that dwarfs the GDP of many nations. We are “free” to be exploited, just with a smiley face slapped on top of it all, marketed as “opportunities” or “flexibility.”

The “freedom of choice” often translates into a limited menu of bad options. Do you choose to work long hours with little pay or face unemployment? Do you choose between paying for essential healthcare or putting food on the table? This isn’t true freedom; it’s a highly constrained set of choices dictated by economic necessity. The precarity of modern work, with the rise of the gig economy and the decline of stable employment, further exacerbates this feeling of being trapped. Workers, particularly young people, are often forced into precarious contracts with few benefits and no job security, constantly scrambling for their next paycheck.

This system encourages a relentless cycle of consumption, where happiness is promised through material acquisition. We are constantly bombarded with advertisements telling us what we “need” to be fulfilled, driving us further into debt and perpetuating the cycle of work and spend. This cycle creates a form of psychological bondage, where our desires are manufactured and our sense of self-worth is tied to our ability to consume.

Reclaiming Ourselves: Towards a More Human Future

The truth is, society cannot survive on profits alone. We need softness. We need slowness. We need meaning beyond paychecks and promotions. The relentless pursuit of economic growth at all costs has led to environmental degradation, social breakdown, and a pervasive sense of emptiness. We are at a critical juncture where we must question the fundamental assumptions of neoliberalism and begin to imagine alternative ways of organizing our societies.

Neoliberalism doesn’t just affect politics or economics — it affects our hearts, our dreams, our worth. It infiltrates our personal lives, shaping our relationships, our aspirations, and even our mental health. But here’s the twist: once we see it, once we understand its mechanisms and its pervasive influence, we can start to resist it.

Resistance doesn’t always mean grand political gestures. It can start with small, everyday acts of defiance. It means prioritizing well-being over endless productivity, choosing cooperation over competition, and valuing community over individual accumulation.

We can speak. We can use our voices to challenge dominant narratives, to expose the fallacies of the “trickle-down” economy, and to advocate for policies that prioritize human well-being and environmental sustainability. This could involve supporting local movements, engaging in political discourse, or simply having conversations with friends and family about these issues.

We can write. We can share our stories, our struggles, and our visions for a different future. Blogs like this one, articles, poetry, and even social media posts can serve as powerful tools to raise awareness, build solidarity, and foster a sense of collective identity against the isolating forces of neoliberalism.

We can create corners of the world that feel human again. This might mean nurturing genuine, non-transactional relationships, building local communities focused on mutual aid, supporting ethical businesses, or dedicating time to activities that bring joy and meaning without an immediate financial return. It means reclaiming our time, our creativity, and our inherent worth from the clutches of market logic.

This blog is part of our collective voice—a voice that questions, reflects, and tries to make sense of the world. It’s a space where we can connect, learn, and empower each other to challenge the status quo. By understanding the forces that shape our lives, we can begin to dismantle them and build a more equitable, compassionate, and truly free future.

Welcome to our space. This is not just a website; it’s a platform where we cover events, share press-based insights, and open up real blog conversations like this one. A home for those who still believe that stories and people matter, and that a different world is not only possible, but necessary.