We live in a time where the very concept of "progress" has been co-opted and hollowed out, reduced to a relentless pursuit of profit that corrodes everything it touches. This phenomenon—aptly termed "enshittification"—describes the gradual degradation of products and services in the name of corporate greed. It is a linguistic gift for our era, a stark acknowledgment of the toxic cycle in which human needs and dignity are sacrificed on the altar of short-term gain.
It should come as no surprise that the Macquarie Dictionary named "enshittification" its word of the year. It is the inevitable byproduct of a system that prioritizes profit over people, where even the most basic elements of life are commodified, degraded, and sold back to us in lesser form. It’s not merely about the decline of online platforms or the cheapening of once-valuable services. It is a reflection of a deeper societal illness, where the very notion of public good is eroded by the ceaseless pursuit of wealth for the few at the expense of the many.
Take the example of Halloween, Christmas, or any other consumerist spectacle that stretches across the calendar like a vast landfill of wasted resources. The production, distribution, and disposal of cheap plastic decorations and novelty goods follow a depressingly familiar pattern: extract, exploit, discard. The costs are externalized—borne by the environment, the working class, and the global South—while the profits are concentrated in the hands of a few. These are not merely holidays but ritualized demonstrations of enshittification, where the celebration of human connection is replaced by the consumption of disposable goods.
Consider the recent spectacle of Justin Sun, a cryptocurrency entrepreneur whose purchase of a banana duct-taped to a wall for $6.2 million exemplifies the grotesque excess of late capitalism. The fruit itself—bought from a struggling immigrant vendor for pennies—was transformed into a mockery of value, a symbol of how detached our economic system has become from reality. Sun’s consumption of the banana in front of journalists, framed as "performance art," was less an act of creativity and more a brazen display of contempt for the labor and dignity of those who struggle to survive. The vendor, Shah Alam, whose 12-hour shifts earn him a meager living, is the true face of the system Sun exploits—a man who toils while the wealthy turn his labor into a spectacle.
This story is not an anomaly; it is emblematic of the world we have created. It is a world where billionaires are lauded as visionaries while the working class is left to bear the brunt of economic instability, climate collapse, and the erosion of public services. The disparity between those who revel in obscene wealth and those who struggle to meet their basic needs has never been more stark, and the word "enshittification" captures this dynamic perfectly.
Empathy has become a casualty in this system, replaced by a voracious greed that knows no limits. We are encouraged to consume endlessly, even as the world teeters on the brink of ecological collapse. The pursuit of endless growth in a finite world is a recipe for disaster, yet it is the guiding principle of modern capitalism. As wars rage, inflation soars, and anxiety becomes the defining feature of contemporary life, we are told to look away, to focus instead on the glittering distractions that enshittification offers.
It is tempting to view all of this as inevitable, as if we are powerless to change the course we are on. But that is precisely the narrative that those in power would have us believe. Enshittification thrives on passivity, on the belief that there is no alternative. Yet history tells us that change is possible when people refuse to accept the unacceptable, when they demand dignity, justice, and a system that serves the many rather than the few.
We are at a crossroads. The choice before us is not between enshittification and collapse but between resignation and resistance. We must reject the logic that turns people into commodities and the planet into a dumping ground. We must reclaim the language of solidarity, community, and care. For if we do not, enshittification will not be the end—it will merely be the prelude to a far darker future.