In recent decades, social sciences, psychology and behavioral economics have converged in a disturbing diagnosis: contemporary societies have displaced traditional systems of recognition – intellectual merit, emotional ties, factual reputation – towards a single and quantifiable metric: money.
This phenomenon is not exclusive to any culture, although it manifests itself with shriek intensity in advanced market economies where inequality has worsened. What once constituted a possible consequence of success—subject matter wealth—has become, for many individuals and social groups, the ultimate goal and the predominant criterion for judging the value of a person.
Understanding this symbolic displacement requires looking beyond economic indicators and delving into the psychological and cultural structures that sustain it.
So poor that he is only interested in money!
There are people who do not know exactly how much their friendships are worth, nor how much their intelligence weighs in the world, but they know with pinpoint precision the balance of their bank accounts. This numerical certainty, in an era of fragile ties and diffuse merit, fulfills a function that goes far beyond financial security: it becomes proof of existence, an identity argument, a shield against emotional and intellectual uncertainty.
Social psychology has been documenting for decades the phenomenon known as “symbolic compensation”: when an individual cannot satisfy a primary need—to be loved, to be recognized as capable—he seeks to satisfy another that is accessible and quantifiable. Money, in this scheme, is not simply wealth. It is a narrative of self-justification. It is the answer that a person gives to himself when the implicit question is: am I worth something?
The German psychoanalyst and social psychologist Erich Fromm maintains that subject matter usually functions as a substitute of the emotional: when a person does not find love, security or genuine bond, they try to fill that void with possessions, consumption or success. In his criticism of the “having orientation,” Fromm says that modern culture pushes us to value what we have more than what we are, and that also ends up shaping human relationships.
The market as an arbiter of dignity
The logic of the market, exported from the economy to culture, operates through a brutal simplification: everything has a price, and that price says something essential about what carries it. Applied to people, this logic turns salary into an indicator of intelligence, wealth into evidence of effort, and poverty into suspicion of factual or cognitive incapacity.
This equivalence—money equals worth—is neither innocent nor inevitable. It is a historical construction that intensified with the late capitalism of the 20th century and was exacerbated with the financialization of the global economy, when it was no longer enough to produce goods or services: it was necessary to produce wealth on top of wealth, performance on performance. In this context, those who do not accumulate are not only poor; They are, in the dominant cultural imagination, clumsy or lazy.
Affective poverty as a driver of accumulation
Human ties are, before anything else, the first valuation system to which we have access. A child who grows up in an environment where affection is scarce, conditional, or unpredictable learns early that being loved is not a stable condition. What you can learn—often from your own family environment—is that material goods do remain. The objects do not leave. Money does not disappear because of someone else’s emotional whim. The bank account doesn’t throw tantrums, we would say.
The worst: this learning, when it is installed as a deep pattern, generates adults for whom accumulation is not a means, but an existential end. They do not accumulate to live better: they accumulate to feel that they exist solidly enough not to be discarded. Heritage thus becomes the portable substitute for the affection that was once lacking.
The paradox is that this mechanism rarely works. Research on subjective well-being consistently shows that, beyond a basic threshold of economic security, additional wealth gives rise to diminishing marginal returns in terms of happiness and, above all, relational satisfaction. Money that is accumulated to fill an emotional void tends to widen that void.: The more you have, the more you fear losing, and the more difficult it is to trust that others are not around just because of what you have.
The icing on the cake: when money replaces thought
Even more disturbing is the second shift that this dynamic indicates: that of money as a substitute for intellectual capacity. In cultures that have not built robust systems of recognition of cognitive merit—or that have eroded them through the devaluation of public education, the ridicule of theoretical knowledge, or the exaltation of “practical sense”—wealth becomes a proxy for intelligence.
The reasoning is circular but culturally effective: if someone has money, they must have done something well; If he did it well, he must have known what he was doing; If he knew what he was doing, he’s smart. Fortune becomes a retroactive credential of capacity. This logical reversal has serious consequences: it legitimizes corporate magical thinking, turns the rich into oracles on subjects in which they have no training, and generates implicit contempt for those who possess knowledge without possessing money.
The underpaid scientist, the teacher with a vocation, the philosopher without a mass audience: all of them are, under this logic, suspected of failure. Your knowledge is discounted because it has not been converted into market price.
Substitutionary deception
When someone feels a deep emotional emptiness or lack of meaning (intellectual or existential), they often turn to subject matter accumulation as a compensation mechanism. Points that explain this:
Affective substitute: Money and objects are “safe” and controllable, unlike people. Therefore, those who fear rejection or did not receive enough affection can try to “fill themselves” with things that do not abandon them.
Status Search: In the absence of a solid identity or intellectual interests that generate satisfaction, subject matter success becomes a badge of valor. If I don’t “know” or “feel” much, at least I “have” a lot; explains everything.
Immediate dopamine: Buying or making money generates instant pleasure. It’s a quick way to quell anxiety or feelings of loneliness without having to do the difficult work of introspection or non-public cultivation. For these types of people, it is unthinkable to have to invest five years or more in a professional career to obtain a profit: they want it now! They look for another immediate means.
Emotional anesthesia: The obsessive focus on subject matter acts as a distraction. As long as the mind is busy counting money or desiring objects, it does not have to deal with the pain of internal deficiencies, they say from the field of psychology.
Confusing price with value
Conclusive: A culture that measures value by price gradually loses the ability to distinguish the valuable from the expensive. And that distinction—between what is worth and what costs—is precisely what accounts for the possibility of a well-oriented life, both individually and collectively.
Recovering that distinction does not require giving up money or idealizing poverty. It requires something more difficult: building alternative systems of recognition—affective, intellectual, civic—solid enough for money to once again be what it once intended to be: a useful means, not a measure of the soul.
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· Surrounding yourself with toxic people can shorten your life expectancy
