Philosophers like Johann Gottleib Fichte, Georg Hegel and Slavoj Žižek argue that societies function as collective consciousnesses, shaped by historical and ideological conditions. Just as individuals become addicted to nicotine, societies become addicted to exploitation — the extraction of resources from the working class — unable to function without it.
Like smokers who rationalize their addiction, societies justify their dependence on exploitation, and we’ve convinced ourselves that a different form of the same substance will somehow be less harmful.
Exploitation is the nicotine that fuels the system. Capitalism and colonialism have created an unbearable world — one that drives people to self-medicate just to endure it.
Smoking is a response to the anxiety, instability and mass pain manufactured by this system. As long as suffering persists, so too will the addiction.
Fascists are the cigarette sellers, pushing the purest and most potent form of exploitation. They don’t mask the dangers; they sell them as strength. Their brand is destruction, openly embraced.
Like cigarette manufacturers who market ruggedness and tradition, fascists glorify struggle, power and dominance, even as they lead their followers to ruin. Their product burns fast and poisons everything it touches.
Liberals, on the other hand, are the vape sellers. They offer a sleek, modern alternative while keeping the same addiction alive.
They know people fear the toxicity of the old system, so they promise a refined version — capitalism with safety features, exploitation with a filter. They package their product as progressive and responsible, assuring us that we can continue to consume as long as we switch to their brand.
Fichte’s philosophy of dependency and domination provides further insight here. He argues in Der Geschlossene Handelsstaat — generally translated as: “The Closed Commercial State” — that power structures maintain themselves by keeping the dominated class in a perpetual state of economic need, ensuring their continued reliance on the system that exploits them.
Just as nicotine keeps smokers dependent, exploitation keeps workers trapped in the cycle of labor and survival. The illusion of choice — between cigarettes and vapes, between fascism and liberalism — is what sustains the addiction.
But in the end, it is the same nicotine. It is the same dependency on exploitation, just dressed up in a more palatable form.
Both conservatives and liberals are competing to monopolize the supply, each promising a different form of exploitation. Whether through brutal force or empty reforms, both factions are fighting for control over the labor of the working class — extracted, repackaged and sold back as survival.
In Hegelian lordship and bondage terms from “The Phenomenology of Spirit,” the ruling class, whether fascist or liberal, depends on the exploitation of the proletariat to sustain itself. At the same time, it fears the potential of the exploited class breaking free.
The more the master tightens control, the more unstable the relationship becomes. The ruling class sells the working class different versions of the same instability, hoping that switching between them will prevent rebellion.
But true liberation does not come from choosing between two different forms of servitude — it comes from breaking free from the addiction altogether.
This dynamic sets the stage for Žižek’s idea of ideological consumption in “First as Tragedy, Then as Farce,” among his many other works. We engage in a constant dialectic between our beliefs and our perceived reality.
Society presents vaping as a healthier alternative to smoking, not because it is safe, but because it is safer than something worse. If cigarettes had never existed and vapes were introduced as a new product, people would recognize their dangers.
But because they are framed in relation to something even more harmful, their risks are downplayed.
In the same way, neoliberalism is sold as a solution to the crisis of capitalism — not because it eliminates exploitation, but because it appears to mitigate its worst effects. We are told to be grateful for the lesser evil, even if it continues to harm us at a slower rate.
Capitalism’s addictive nature lies in its ability to constantly rebrand itself as necessary. Like a smoker who rationalizes just one more cigarette, societies justify capitalism by pointing to incremental reforms and technological advancements as proof that the system is improving.
This illusion of progress keeps the addiction alive. The cycle of consumption, exploitation and crisis is accepted as inevitable, even as it destroys individuals and the planet.
Liberals, like vape sellers, thrive on the illusion of harm reduction. They acknowledge that unregulated capitalism is unsustainable, but instead of advocating for real change, they insist that the answer is just switching conduits.
Liberals market their version as the responsible choice, the humane way to sustain the addiction without the worst side effects. But no matter how much they refine the product, the core ingredient — exploitation — remains the same.
The working class still labors, the environment still deteriorates and the system continues extracting every ounce of value until there is nothing left. The only real difference is the packaging.
But just like smoking or vaping, there is a way out. The solution is obvious: quit. If only it was ever that easy.
