The current state of our world is precarious, teetering on the edge of collapse. Signs of this crisis—widespread species extinction, environmental disasters, pervasive mental health issues, and escalating political and economic turmoil—are glaringly evident. The term "polycrisis" describes this multifaceted dilemma, which ultimately stems from centuries of exploitation of both natural and human resources. This exploitation—defined as the unfair or harmful use of someone or something for personal gain—lies at the core of our civilization, so ingrained that it often goes unnoticed. For instance, I recently purchased a small wicker table for my balcony for $30. The packaging claimed the wicker was handwoven, prompting me to ponder the compensation received by the workers who crafted it. What was the hidden suffering behind my seemingly innocuous acquisition?

I find myself caught in a cycle of consuming products that are rooted in the suffering of others and the degradation of our environment. My comfortable Western lifestyle hinges on this reality, as does yours, dear reader. Although slavery—the most blatant form of exploitation in America—was abolished in the 19th century, the cultural mindset that enabled it has persisted, with its repercussions only now beginning to surface.

Throughout history, humans across various cultures have exploited one another as well as animals. While indigenous peoples of North America might have been adept custodians of nature, they, too, enslaved those they defeated in battle. The wealth of Ancient Greece was similarly built on the backs of enslaved individuals, with little evidence of moral objections from its philosophers, despite their discussions on virtue.

If we seek to identify a critical juncture in the history of exploitation that now threatens our existence, we might look to 1492. Christopher Columbus's failed attempt to establish a trade route to Asia led him to the Americas, marking a significant turning point. At that time, European society was rigidly structured, with kings at the top and serfs at the bottom, leaving little room for mobility. After centuries of exploration and cultivation, and with technological progress stagnating, opportunities for easy wealth were scarce. The Hundred Years War between France and England (1337-1453) exemplified the territorial conflicts of that era.

In the early 15th century, the Portuguese demonstrated how technological advancement could enable the extraction of wealth from other regions. However, it was Columbus's journey that fundamentally shifted Europe's power dynamics and heralded the colonial age.

The notorious predatory actions of the Spanish in the Americas are now more widely recognized, though they were often glossed over in educational settings. Bartolomé de las Casas, a priest who witnessed the atrocities, published "A Brief Account of the Destruction of the Indies" in 1552, revealing a harrowing tale of greed and brutality. One disturbing account described indigenous people being roasted alive, their suffering ignored while Spanish officers turned a blind eye.

Despite the initial hospitality shown by local communities, the Spaniards' treacherous behavior led to widespread enslavement and violence. A notorious incident involved Francisco Pizarro's capture of Incan emperor Atahualpa in 1532, where the Spanish demanded an immense ransom in gold before executing him after a sham trial.

Yet, it was not gold that enriched Spain; rather, it was silver. In 1545, a massive silver deposit was uncovered in present-day Bolivia, transforming the Spanish crown's fortunes for over a century. Estimates suggest that up to eight million enslaved individuals perished in the Potosí mines due to inhumane conditions. I visited these mines in 2011, and while the silver is nearly depleted, miners continue to toil under appalling conditions today.

As Spain's dominance grew, the encomienda system emerged, allowing petty nobles to enslave indigenous populations and extract tribute in various forms. This exploitative framework has left enduring economic scars, with areas once subjected to encomienda still struggling today, highlighting a legacy of trauma.

When the Mayflower arrived in Massachusetts in 1620, the settlers aimed to replicate Spanish conquests. However, the absence of precious metals and the resilience of local tribes altered their trajectory. This shift compelled settlers to cultivate the land instead of merely pillaging it, fostering a society based on agriculture rather than extraction. This divergence from South American practices contributed to the emergence of a more egalitarian North American society.

Despite the relatively less overtly exploitative nature of English colonial governance compared to Spain, it still perpetuated exploitation. The quest for land in North America resulted in the displacement of Native Americans, who were repeatedly forced from their ancestral territories under broken treaties. The legacy of slavery further complicates this history.

The exploitative practices in the Americas stem from their portrayal as vast wealth reservoirs, prompting aggressive land and resource grabs. In South America, Spain's greed crippled its colonies, contributing to a persistent image of poverty and corruption. Meanwhile, North America developed a more egalitarian society, laying the groundwork for a constitution aimed at safeguarding individual rights and limiting governmental power. However, the underlying principle remained: land and wealth were to be seized.

The 20th century saw the global proliferation of this ethos, peaking in the 1990s when political scientist Francis Fukuyama declared the "end of history," suggesting that liberal democracy had triumphed. Yet, history had other plans. The events of September 11, 2001, served as a stark reminder of the complexities and challenges that lay ahead.

Exploitation is the shadow cast by the liberalism championed by the United States. The core values of freedom and individual rights, when untempered by laws or communal values, can lead to the powerful exploiting the vulnerable. As resources have dwindled, the focus of exploitation has shifted inward, intensifying societal fractures.

The consequences of this self-destructive cycle are evident. American culture, now intertwined with global society, seeks to recreate its past affluence through artificial means. The financial schemes of the early 2000s have morphed into modern equivalents like cryptocurrencies and NFTs, reflecting an insatiable quest for wealth. My experience working for a small medical startup revealed that venture capitalists prioritize astronomical returns over sustainable investments, leading to the neglect of promising businesses.

Figures like Sam Bankman-Fried and Elizabeth Holmes embody this exploitative dynamic, albeit as cautionary tales. The prevalence of scams—both illegal and legal—exemplifies the erosion of trust in modern economic interactions. As capital concentrates among the elite, monopolistic corporations dominate essential services, squeezing out smaller competitors and draining resources from the middle and lower classes.

Simultaneously, these corporations are beginning to exploit their users, a phenomenon termed "enshittification" by Cory Doctorow. Major tech companies are increasingly prioritizing profits over customer satisfaction, leading to a deterioration of service quality and user experience. This troubling trend mirrors a broader societal decline, where the West's insatiable hunger turns inwards.

The hidden suffering that has long sustained Western prosperity is now manifesting within the very fabric of society. Anxiety, economic insecurity, environmental chaos, and political instability are symptoms of this imbalance. Our world is economically top-heavy, with the majority of individuals facing increasing stress as the foundations of well-being erode.

In light of these circumstances, how should individuals respond? While complete disengagement from exploitative systems is impractical for most, we can strive to make more informed choices. By understanding the supply chains behind our purchases and opting for products with lesser embedded suffering, we can begin to effect change. The journey toward awareness and action may be gradual, but each small choice contributes to reshaping our collective reality.