Pleasure is a fundamental part of being human. It is not just a fleeting feeling but a
deep-rooted biological compass that has guided human survival and social connection
for millennia. From shared meals to community rituals, pleasure once reinforced
connection and well-being. But in our modern era, a powerful shift has occurred—one
that has transformed pleasure from a tool for meaning into a tool for profit. At the heart
of this transformation is alcohol.
Alcohol used to occupy a very meaningful place in life. It was once associated with
ceremonies, social reunions, and traditions. But with technologies growing and
production scaling up, alcohol became something more available, stronger, and
eventually more harmful. What Courtwright (2019) says in The Age of Addiction is that
we live in a system of “limbic capitalism”—a world that aims at the reward structures of
our brains, monetizing pleasure itself.
The Biology of Addiction
Humans are biologically wired to seek pleasure. The reward system of the brain, mainly
through dopamine release, strengthens the behavior related to survival and
reproduction (Smith & Lazarus, 1990). At first, alcohol works on these systems by
making one feel happy, lowering inhibition, and increasing social bonds. But over time,
the brain adapts. What previously gave satisfaction now only awakes a desire for more.
Tolerance increases. Satisfaction decreases. And thus, the cycle of addiction begins
(Berridge et al., 2009).
The shift from fairly good enjoyment to making it a need is not a mark of personal frailty
but the outcome of taken-over life systems. As Berridge and colleagues (2009) note, the
“wanting” system in the brain can become detached from the “liking” system. People
may no longer enjoy alcohol—but they crave it nonetheless.
Capitalism Meets the Limbic System
This biological vulnerability has not gone unnoticed. In fact, it has been weaponized.
Courtwright (2019) coined the term limbic capitalism to describe an economic system
that exploits our reward systems for profit. Whether it’s alcohol, fast food, video games,
or tanning salons, industries deliberately target our dopamine-driven impulses, often
blurring the line between pleasure and harm.
Advertising plays a central role in this strategy. By linking products to happiness, social
success, and identity, companies create emotional hooks that are hard to resist.
Alcohol ads, for example, rarely show the aftermath of overindulgence. Instead, they offer
scenes of laughter, love, and belonging. These messages are even more persuasive in
an age of targeted digital marketing, where our browsing behavior, vulnerabilities, and
desires are known and monetized.
Mass production and globalization have also made alcohol cheaper and more
accessible than ever before. What was once a luxury is now an everyday indulgence—an
indulgence that hides its dangers beneath a sheen of normalization
(Courtwright, 2019).
The Urban Trap: Anonymity and Anomie
The story doesn’t end with marketing and access. Modern societal structures-especially
urban life-further intensify the risk of addiction. Sociologist George Simmel described
how city living creates a paradox: anonymity offers freedom, but it also fosters
alienation. In a crowd, we can vanish. But we can also feel unseen.
This emotional isolation is a powerful trigger for addictive behavior. Without the support
of close-knit communities, many turn to alcohol for relief. Cities, while vibrant and full of
opportunity, can also feel impersonal and overwhelming—conditions ripe for
overconsumption.
Émile Durkheim’s concept of anomie adds another layer to this picture. In times of
rapid social change or moral breakdown, individuals may lose their sense of purpose and
social guidance. In today’s fast-paced, hyper-individualistic society, many people find
themselves unmoored. Without clear norms or communal support, addiction often fills
the void.
Can There Be Balance?
The concept of hormesis offers a clue for how we might restore balance. Hormesis
refers to the idea that moderate exposure to certain substances or experiences can be
beneficial, while excess becomes toxic. A little sunlight boosts health, too much burns.
A glass of wine may relax; a bottle destroys.
But moderation is increasingly hard to maintain in a system that profits from our inability
to stop. Addiction thrives not just on biology, but on a culture that equates
consumption with happiness, and profit with progress.
A Final Word
Alcohol’s journey from sacred ritual to everyday indulgence is not just a story about the
substance itself. It’s a mirror reflecting how larger forces shape our desires, habits, and
health. As Courtwright (2019) reminds us, the very ingenuity that enabled us to
brew, distill, and mass-produce alcohol has created a modern world where
pleasure is for sale, addiction becomes normalized, and moderation feels
unattainable. As he writes, “We humans overindulge in ethanol ingestion because we have
become brewers, vintners, and distillers” (p. 19).
In a society governed by limbic capitalism, the challenge is not simply to say no—but to
understand why saying no has become so difficult. The answer lies not in blaming the
individual, but in questioning the systems that thrive on our cravings.
References
Berridge, K. C., Robinson, T. E., & Aldridge, J. W. (2009). Dissecting components of
reward: ‘liking’, ‘wanting’, and learning. Current Opinion in Pharmacology, 9(1), 65–73.
Courtwright, D. T. (2019). The Age of Addiction: How Bad Habits Became Big Business.
Harvard University Press.
Smith, C. A., & Lazarus, R. S. (1990). Emotion and adaptation. In L. A. Pervin (Ed.),
Handbook of Personality: Theory and Research (pp. 609–637). Guilford Press