Trying to be an ethical consumer in a capitalist system feels like playing a game where the rules are designed for you to lose. No matter how many brands you boycott, companies you cancel, or alternatives you seek, there’s always a new ethical dilemma lurking around the corner. And yet, despite the near impossibility of truly moral consumption under capitalism, I still think we should try.
Let’s start with the obvious: massive corporations are, by design, exploitative. I haven’t set foot in any Loblaws store in five years, not since they colluded to fix bread prices and then had the audacity to offer a $25 gift card as hush money. And let’s not forget the price gouging during the pandemic. And Shoppers Drug Mart? I stopped going two years ago when it became crystal clear they were trying to push Canada toward private healthcare. And that vaccine distribution deal? Funny how smaller pharmacies suddenly struggled to get vaccine stock while Shoppers had it readily available. Almost like that was the plan all along.
Then there’s Amazon, which I ditched when Jeff Bezos refused to let The Washington Post editorial board endorse Kamala Harris in the 2024 election, because, you know, billionaire meddling in democracy is a bad sign. But honestly, take your pick of reasons: they closed warehouses in Quebec rather than allow workers to unionize, they treat employees like disposable machines, and they contribute to monopolizing e-commerce while undercutting small businesses.
I cancelled my Airbnb account when its founder took a role with DOGE, because, really, the last thing the world needs is more crypto bro nonsense. Unilever is now off my list too, after they fired Ben & Jerry’s CEO for daring to stand up for their principles. McDonald’s? Axed when they cut their DEI programs to appease the anti-woke crowd. And don’t even get me started on The Wonderful Company, whose billionaire owners literally hoard water—in a world where access to clean water is becoming a crisis. Oh, and Nestlé? That one should go without saying.
And yet, despite my best efforts, I still find myself tangled in the web of unethical consumption. I haven’t shut down Meta because, unfortunately, I can’t quit social media. Although I have removed Facebook and Messenger from my phone. I can’t decide whether Spotify or Apple Music is the lesser evil because let’s be honest—they’re both terrible. I cancelled Netflix because I decided to stick with Canadian streaming, but that also doesn’t mean I’m suddenly some kind of ethical media purist.
And somehow, I’m supposed to keep all this straight in my head? Impossible. I literally have a spreadsheet. That’s right—I keep a goddamn spreadsheet just to track which companies are doing what awful thing this week. *laughs in straitjacket*
Honestly, I would love nothing more than for shopping to be mindless again—without weighing every purchase I make against a checklist of horrors. I miss being able to buy a shirt without wondering if it was sewn in a country with human rights violations, whether the workers were paid properly, if forever chemicals were used in the dye, or if I just helped line the pockets of yet another billionaire trying to crush democracy. It’s emotionally and intellectually exhausting. But it’s a weight we must carry—because if we don’t, who will?
Trying to buy things (or, in my case, not buy things) while keeping your principles intact is an uphill battle. It reminds me of Doug Forcett from The Good Place—the guy who spent his entire life trying to make the perfect moral choices, only to find out the system was rigged against him. That’s exactly what it feels like when you try to make ethical purchasing decisions in a world where capitalism ensures there’s always exploitation somewhere in the supply chain.
But here’s the thing: just because it’s impossible to get it perfect doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. I recently wrote about my experience so far with a no-buy year and how stepping away from constant consumerism has changed the way I think about money, shopping, and corporate power. And while my individual choices alone won’t fix the system, combined with your actions they just might add up.
Because when we act collectively, the impact is real. Just look at Tesla, where stock is sliding after Elon Musk threw up his Sieg Heils and, as the richest man on earth, used his platform and wealth to amplify hate while pulling support from some of the world’s most vulnerable communities as the public face of DOGE. Or Target, whose shares have been circling the drain since they gutted their DEI initiatives to appease a loud, regressive minority. Consumers might not hold all the power but don’t ever think we’re powerless either.
So no, I don’t think I’ll ever get it 100% right. But I’ll keep making the best choices I can with the information I have. Because while ethical consumption may be nearly impossible, blindly accepting corporate greed is a choice too—and that’s one I refuse to make.
What do you think? Is it possible to be an ethical consumer in today’s world, or are we all just stuck making the least-bad choices? Let’s talk about it.