Exploited. Conditioned. Replaced. Why Do We Accept the Unacceptable?

Alright. Have you ever looked at something absolutely inhumane… and just shrugged?

You see a headline about factory workers pulling 18-hour shifts to make $5 t-shirts, and your only reaction is: “Yeah… that’s rough, but what can you do?” Then, two minutes later, you’re back to scrolling, adding another Shein haul to your cart.

Or maybe you’ve watched a delivery driver struggling through the pouring rain, rushing to bring someone their bubble tea in under ten minutes, and thought: “Phew, glad that’s not me.” Yeah. That kind of thing.

Today, we’re talking about that. How the inhumane has become so normalized that we don’t even question it anymore. How we went from shocked to numb in just a few years. And spoiler alert: it’s not because we’re terrible people. It’s because everything around us is designed to make us accept the unacceptable.

We’ll talk about fashion and tech, industries that exploit with zero shame, pollute at catastrophic levels, and convince us that sales and convenience matter more than ethics. We’ll talk about entertainment, where artists are pushed to the brink of burnout… and then casually replaced by AI because, well, it’s cheaper. And most importantly, we’ll ask: why do we keep tolerating this? Are we hypocrites? Powerless? Or have we just been so conditioned that we don’t even realize we’re living in a dystopian fever dream?

So yeah—today, we’re diving headfirst into the absurdity we’ve all learned to accept. Buckle up and grab your coffee, because this episode is not pulling any punches.

This is Cappuccino & Croissant, and today, we’re asking: why do we accept the inhumane as normal?

Hell, but 50% off

Alright. Let’s talk about the massive elephant in the room: fast fashion and the tech industry. Two industries that, ethically speaking, are completely indefensible—yet we all keep feeding them. Myself included.

Why? Because it’s cheap. It’s convenient. And, most of all, because we’ve been trained to look the other way.

Let’s start with fashion. We know exactly where our clothes come from. We know that $5 t-shirts and $15 jeans aren’t miracles—they’re exploitation. We know that behind a $60 Shein order that fills an entire wardrobe, there are underpaid workers, crammed into sweatshops, working brutal hours in conditions so bad they’re not even allowed to speak to each other.

We also know that fast fashion is one of the most polluting industries on the planet. That mass production consumes insane amounts of water, that most clothes are designed to be disposable, meant to fall apart and be replaced before the trend cycle even resets.

And yet… we keep buying. Every year, every season, every time a new micro-trend pops up on TikTok.

Of course, we can tell ourselves that it’s just the ultra-cheap brands like Shein and Temu that are the problem. But are the big brands really any better? Zara, H&M, Mango… They run on the same model—they just invest more in PR to make it look less horrific. Those "ethical" and "sustainable" labels they slap on their collections? Marketing, nothing more. A company that mass-produces millions of items every year will never be truly sustainable—no matter how many ad campaigns feature models running through wheat fields in slow motion.

And what’s really fascinating? How normalized this has become.

A few years ago, when people first started talking about sweatshop conditions in Bangladesh and China, it was shocking. People were outraged. Boycotts were trending. Today? It’s just another tweet in your feed. You like it, nod in agreement, scroll past it. And at the end of the day? You order anyway. Because, well… you need clothes. And that $4 crop top is kinda cute.

But fashion isn’t the only industry that’s turned us into complacent zombies. Let’s talk about tech.

Our phones, our laptops, our tablets… We know they’re produced under horrific conditions.

We know that child labor fuels the supply chain, that kids as young as seven work in cobalt mines in the Democratic Republic of Congo—mines that supply the raw materials for our batteries. We know that in the factories where our beloved iPhones are assembled, suicide nets have been installed around the buildings. Because the working conditions are so horrific that some employees would rather jump than keep going.

And that’s not a conspiracy theory. That’s documented. That’s real.

And yet… nothing. We still upgrade our phones every year like clockwork.

And once again, the system is designed to keep us compliant. Tech giants don’t just sell us devices. They sell us dreams. They sell us lifestyle, status, dopamine.

They hit us with gorgeous ad campaigns—flawless people taking breathtaking photos with their brand-new $1,200 phone. The marketing is so polished, so emotionally crafted, that we forget to ask questions. We forget to think about where these products actually come from.

And the worst part? The psychological trap.

Because deep down, we know this is messed up. We feel guilty. But at the same time, we can’t escape it.

Try buying an ethically-made smartphone. You can’t.Try finding 100% fair-trade, sustainable fashion that doesn’t cost a fortune. Good luck.The system is built to make sure we have no real alternatives.

So instead of trying to fix it, we choose not to think about it.

We’ve been taught that this is inevitable. That fast fashion is the only way to make clothing affordable. That tech will always be exploitative. That this is just the way things are, and we don’t have a choice.

But… is that actually true? Or is it just a comfortable excuse to keep consuming without questioning too much?

And most importantly—if we really wanted to change things… could we?

That’s what we’re unpacking next.

The star system or modern slavery?

Now let’s talk about another industry where exploitation has become the norm: entertainment.

Music, film, influencers… no matter the medium, we idolize our favorite artists, follow them religiously on social media, shower them with love. And yet, somehow, we have no problem turning a blind eye to the brutal conditions they work under.

Let’s start with K-pop, one of the most extreme examples of this system.

It’s an industry that looks glamorous on the surface, but underneath, it runs like a high-efficiency machine with zero regard for human well-being.

Kids as young as 10 or 12 enter agencies, dreaming of becoming idols. What they actually sign up for is a modern-day labor contract that resembles a form of indentured servitude.

Years of grueling training—12-hour days spent dancing, singing, perfecting their image, learning foreign languages—all with zero guarantee they’ll ever debut.

And if, by some miracle, they do? The pressure only gets worse.

Insane work schedules, complete control over their personal lives, strict bans on dating, on speaking freely, on expressing any opinion that could be “bad for the brand.” Their careers are scripted for maximum profitability.

Every comeback cycle is a non-stop marathon of interviews, performances, and fan meetings—designed to extract every last ounce of energy from them until they burn out. And when they do? They’re replaced.

The worst part? We all know the tragic stories.

Idols who have fallen into deep depression, who have been harassed, pushed to their breaking point—some, tragically, to the point of no return. And yet, the industry doesn’t stop. Because it’s profitable. Because we, the audience, keep watching, streaming, buying—fully aware of what’s happening behind the scenes. And K-pop is just one of the most extreme examples. But it’s not the only entertainment industry where artists are treated as disposable.

Let’s talk about Hollywood.

It sells itself as a dream factory, a fantasy of gold and glamour… but in reality, it’s a nightmare where pressure destroys careers. Actors are squeezed dry. If they’re not constantly working, they’re forgotten. If they gain weight, age, or disappear for a few months, their career is over.

And that’s if they even get a shot to begin with. Because the reality is, Hollywood is built on a system of power imbalances, coercion, and mental and physical abuse. It’s an industry where success isn’t just about talent—it’s about pleasing the right producers, the right studios, the right executives.

A world where young actresses are hypersexualized from the age of 16. A world where people like Harvey Weinstein were able to prey on women for decades—because everyone knew, but no one wanted to risk their career. And beyond music and film, there’s a new category of celebrities that’s taking over: influencers. We see them as young people who “made it” thanks to social media, who found a way to monetize their passions and get rich on their own terms.

But behind the scenes? It’s often another brutal system.

Social media algorithms dictate their lives.

If they don’t post every day, they disappear.If they’re not trending, they’re irrelevant.

They have to constantly produce content, or else they’re crushed by the very platforms that made them famous.

And because they work alone, with no real industry structure, they have no safety net.

No stable contracts, no insurance, no plan B. If they make a mistake, if they take too long of a break, if their audience gets bored… they’re done.

And now? They’re not even irreplaceable anymore.

Because the entertainment industry has found an even more efficient way to exploit artists—by getting rid of them entirely.

AI.

Studios are already generating music, images, voices—without paying human creators. Virtual influencers are gaining millions of followers. The industry is literally creating celebrities that don’t sleep, don’t take breaks, don’t get paid… and never complain.

This is the moment we realize just how dehumanized entertainment has become.

The system doesn’t want artists. It wants robots who can create endlessly—without flaws, without burnout, without emotion. And yet… we keep watching. We keep consuming. We keep fueling the machine. Because we love these movies, these songs, these creators. But maybe, just maybe, it’s also because we’ve accepted that suffering is just part of the price for our entertainment.

So the real question is: do we actually have a problem with this industry? Or have we just gotten used to watching it destroy its own talent—as long as it keeps serving us?

Why do we keep accepting this?

We’ve talked about fashion and tech, industries where exploitation isn’t an exception—it’s the rule. We’ve seen how the entertainment industry chews up artists and spits them out like disposable products.

So now we get to the real question: Why do we keep accepting all of this?

Because from the outside, it would be easy to assume that we’re just cold, selfish people who don’t care about injustice anymore. That we’ve become so desensitized, so detached, that none of this shocks us.

But the reality is more complicated. We’re not actively choosing to ignore these horrors. We’ve just been conditioned to accept them.

1. The Boiling Frog Effect: How We Got Here

You’ve probably heard the old boiling frog experiment: if you drop a frog into boiling water, it jumps out immediately. But if you place it in lukewarm water and slowly raise the temperature, it won’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.

That’s exactly what’s happened to us.

We didn’t wake up one morning suddenly okay with exploitation and suffering. We were gradually exposed to these injustices, little by little, until they became part of the background noise of daily life.

• Years ago, people were outraged when reports of sweatshops first surfaced. Now? We skim an article about it, nod in disapproval, and move on to the next viral story.

• The suicides at Foxconn’s factories in China, where our iPhones are made, were once a huge scandal. Now? It’s a footnote in a Netflix documentary… that we watch on our iPhones.

• We’ve seen artists collapse from exhaustion, celebrities break down under the pressure, influencers talk about their mental health struggles… and a few weeks later? We go right back to consuming the same system that destroyed them.

It’s not that we don’t care.

It’s that we’ve been emotionally numbed.

We live in a world where crisis is constant. Every day, we’re bombarded with wars, economic collapse, political chaos, climate disaster—to the point where our brains simply can’t process it all anymore.

We’re in horror overload.

And to survive, we do what any overwhelmed human would do: we filter.

We subconsciously divide tragedies into two categories:

👉 Things that affect us personally → We react.

👉 Things that feel too distant or too big to change → We scroll.

And most of the injustices we’ve talked about today fall into that second category.

Because they feel too huge. Because they feel out of our control. Because, let’s be honest… we don’t even know where to start.

2. The Illusion of Powerlessness

Another reason we let this all slide? Because we’ve been taught that we can’t do anything about it.

The moment we start asking questions, there’s always someone ready with the same three excuses:

• “Yeah, it sucks, but that’s just how the world works.”

• “If you don’t buy it, someone else will.”

• “You really think boycotting one brand is going to change anything?”

And the more we hear it, the more we believe it.

Until we finally accept the idea that we’re just spectators, watching a system too massive to fight.

But here’s the thing.

That’s a lie.

3. What We Can Do (and Why It’s Easier Than We Think)

Because no, we can’t magically dismantle the entire fast fashion industry overnight.No, we can’t erase corporate greed with one viral post.

But that doesn’t mean we’re powerless.

First, we need to realize that individual choices, when multiplied, create collective impact.

• When enough people stop mass-buying from unethical brands, those brands feel the pressure and are forced to adapt.

• When we support independent creators instead of corporate machines, we shift the balance of power.

• When we demand better instead of accepting the status quo, we change culture itself.

No one is asking for perfection. We live in a world built around these toxic systems. Escaping them entirely is impossible.

But we can reduce our complicity. And that starts with small shifts.

• Buy less, but better. Not just because it’s trendy, but because it matters.

• Support brands and artists that align with actual human values.

• Be conscious of what we consume—instead of mindlessly feeding into systems that rely on our ignorance.

Because at the end of the day, the real question isn’t “Can we change everything?”

It’s: Do we even want to try? Or are we so far gone that we’d rather stay comfortably numb?

Conclusion - Can we change things… or not?

Well. That was a deep dive into hell.

A world where fast fashion thrives on exploitation, where tech industries crush lives to sell us the latest gadgets, where artists are treated as disposable products, and where we, the audience, keep fueling the system—most of the time without even realizing it.

And I know what some of you might be thinking right now:"Yeah, this is awful… but what are we supposed to do about it?"

And that’s the real complexity of the issue. Because we can’t just opt out.

We can’t all suddenly start wearing handcrafted, organic cotton made by artisans earning six figures, toss our smartphones, go back to typewriters, and boycott every industry with blood on its hands. Unless we want to end up naked in a cave, that’s not an option.

But does that mean we have to accept everything without question?Absolutely not.

It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being aware.

Because if we keep scrolling, keep consuming, keep applauding without ever asking questions, then yes—we’re complicit.

But if we start demanding better, supporting those who try to do things differently, refusing to accept inhumanity as just "the way things are"—then, at our own level, we’re already creating a shift.

And that? That’s the first step.

So now, I have a question for you:

Do we keep letting the world run on autopilot, or do we finally decide to open our eyes?

If this episode made you think, if you enjoy these kinds of deep dives that challenge perspectives, subscribe to Cappuccino & Croissant on your favorite podcast platform and leave a rating and a comment. It helps a lot in growing the podcast.

You can also find me on social media to continue the discussion, and if you want to support my work, check out the podcast’s merch and my books.

Thanks for listening, take care… and don’t forget to look at the world with a little more perspective. See you next time on Cappuccino & Croissant. 🎙️☕