Editor’s note: Besides tracking technological advancements and innovations, our author is a Juilliard-trained musical composer. He has created a musical piece titled “Didn’t Have a Choice” for you to enjoy while reading this column.
We tend to think that frustration, anger, and division are born out of scarcity. When people lack access to necessities like food, money, jobs, or safety, it’s natural for them to lash out. That is the standard story. But what if we are living through the opposite? What if the root of the rage in so many corners of our culture is not deprivation but abundance? What if prosperity itself is driving people around the bend?
Eighty to a hundred years ago, life was shaped by external threats that were immediate and undeniable. The Depression, two world wars, and diseases like polio and tuberculosis defined daily life. For many, survival itself was the goal. If you had food on the table, a roof over your head, and you avoided illness, you were doing well. There was less room for illusions about endless choice. You might not have liked your options, but they were limited and clear. The people around you shared the same challenges, which created solidarity born from necessity.
Today, the picture looks radically different. Materially, we are wealthier and safer than almost any generation in history. We live longer. We have widespread access to healthcare and vaccines. In the United States and many other developed nations, even those living below the poverty line often have access to conveniences that would have seemed miraculous to earlier generations: refrigeration, smartphones, transportation, and entertainment on demand. Yet instead of gratitude, we often see restlessness, resentment, and rising levels of stress. Why? Because abundance does not just free us, it burdens us with choices.
Psychologists call this “choice overload.” Barry Schwartz documented it in his book “The Paradox of Choice.” When shoppers were presented with twenty-four varieties of jam, they were far less likely to buy any than if the store offered only six. More choice did not make them happier; it made them paralyzed. And when they did choose, they were haunted by the thought that a different option might have been better. Multiply this across every domain of modern life, and you start to see why abundance creates anxiety.
Careers are a prime example. A century ago, you often followed in your father’s line of work or chose from a handful of roles in your town. Today, the menu is vast. You can be a coder, designer, podcaster, renewable energy entrepreneur, or influencer. With so many possibilities, people spend more energy worrying about which path to take than actually walking one. Even after choosing, many remain unsettled, convinced they picked the wrong lane.
Relationships follow a similar pattern. Dating apps promise abundance, but the result is often paralysis and dissatisfaction. Each swipe is a reminder of infinite alternatives. Instead of committing and building a life together, people remain perpetually browsing, always suspecting that someone better is just one swipe away. Abundance breeds discontent.
Social media intensifies this problem. Platforms that connect us also bombard us with comparisons. Your grandparents compared themselves with their neighbors. You compare yourself with billions, most of whom show only their highlight reels. Even if you are doing relatively well, you feel like you are failing. A UK study of 3,300 adolescents found that those with symptoms of anxiety or depression spent more time on social media, felt more hurt by feedback, and were less satisfied with their online relationships. More connections did not equal more well-being. In fact, the abundance of connections made them less happy.
The consequences can be tragic. In the UK, Molly Russell was a bright 14-year-old who died by suicide in 2017. At her inquest, it was revealed that she had been repeatedly exposed to harmful social media posts that intensified her depression. In Canada, Amanda Todd shared a similar story through a viral video before ending her life at 15. Both cases remind us that an abundance of exposure and opportunity can carry unbearable weight.
Statistics confirm this larger pattern. In the United States, over 32 percent of adults and nearly half of those aged 18 to 29 report symptoms of anxiety or depression. A 2022 survey found that half of adults under 30 felt anxious most of the time. These are not people fighting famine or polio. They are digital natives overwhelmed by opportunity and pressure. Bankrate reports that nearly half of U.S. adults say money has a negative impact on their mental health. And Northwestern Mutual found that one-third of Americans say they do not feel financially secure, even though average wealth has risen. Abundance has not translated into peace of mind.
The paradox becomes clear: the more choices we have, the less equipped we seem to be to handle them. If you are not getting ahead, you cannot point to war or plague as the culprit. You face two options. One is to admit that you have not taken full responsibility for your life, and to live with the weight of that failure. Few people want to do that. The other is to blame others: the government, corporations, immigrants, the media, your neighbors.
Entire political movements thrive on this blame dynamic. Leaders gain traction by channeling the anger of those who feel left behind, pointing fingers outward rather than inward. And because blame is easier than responsibility, it thrives.This also explains the hold of nostalgia. Political slogans promise a return to simpler times. Hollywood endlessly reboots old franchises, and people long for a past where choices were fewer and roles clearer. Of course, that past was harder and crueler, but it carried a clarity that prosperity has stolen. The imagined simplicity of yesterday is comforting compared to the confusion of abundance.
It is not that external obstacles have vanished. Inequality is real. Systems are flawed. Chance still shapes every life. But prosperity itself is destabilizing. Studies of affluent youth in America have shown that children from wealthy families often report higher levels of anxiety, depression, and substance use than less affluent peers. Suniya Luthar’s work on the “culture of affluence” revealed that abundance can create a toxic mix of expectation and pressure. Opportunity becomes obligation. Pressure builds. Abundance turns from blessing to burden.
So, the real challenge is not scarcity but abundance. How do we navigate the stress of too many options? How do we define success in ways that ground us rather than scatter us? Perhaps the answer is to narrow our field of vision deliberately. To set boundaries on what matters. To choose depth over breadth, gratitude over comparison, commitment over endless searching.
I do not have a neat solution, but I believe recognizing this paradox is a first step. We cannot assume that more opportunities automatically equal more happiness. Happiness may come instead from focus, discipline, and meaning, not from chasing an ever-moving target. Maybe it is not a lack of opportunity that is making us angry. Maybe it is the overwhelming abundance of it.
