We Still Want It

Sometimes I scroll through feeds and see an ad for a supplement that’s supposed to improve focus. Or a coaching program that changes everything in six weeks. Or a bio-hack that optimizes sleep. And I think: I know this.

Not the product. The mechanism.

A promise that sounds simple. A solution you can buy. Someone who used it and says: it works. A story that’s too good to check.

I sold exactly that. A silicone bracelet with a hologram that was supposed to improve balance. Whether the effect was placebo, I didn’t ask for a long time. But the demand was real. Millions of people wanted it. Not because they were stupid. Because they needed something. And because the promise was exactly the right size: big enough to create hope, small enough to be believable.

That mechanism hasn’t disappeared. It went digital.

Today I see it in supplements that advertise with study results nobody verifies. In coaching offers that promise transformation without saying what that actually means. In bio-hacking gadgets that deliver data that feels important but changes nothing. In political narratives that reduce complex problems to a single enemy because that’s easier than the truth.

The core is always the same. Someone has a problem. Someone else has a solution. The solution sounds simple. And between problem and solution there’s a gap that gets filled with belief. Not with evidence. With belief.

Placebo is not a dirty word. It’s a scientifically documented effect. Belief in an effect produces an effect. That’s not a lie, that’s biology. The problem starts where someone exploits that effect and pretends the result comes from the product rather than from the buyer’s mind.

I did that. I know the line, and I know the moment you cross it. It’s not a dramatic moment. It’s the moment you stop asking a question because the answer would be uncomfortable.

What occupies me isn’t the past. It’s the present. I see people spending hundreds a month on supplements because some guy with a six-pack said on a podcast that it’s life-changing. I see companies selling AI solutions with promises no engineer would sign off on. I see political campaigns working with emotions because facts are harder to sell.

The patterns are identical. The medium has changed. Instead of trade shows and newspapers, it’s now podcasts and social media. Instead of athletes with a band on their wrist, it’s influencers with a link in their bio. But the hunger is the same. The hunger for something that helps. That’s simple. That you can buy without thinking too hard.

And I understand that hunger. I have it myself. When I’m tired, I also reach for the nearest thing. When the world gets too complicated, I also want a simple explanation. I’m not immune. Nobody is.

The difference is that I know the mechanism from the inside. I’ve sat in meetings where the discussion was about wording. Not whether something was true, but how you have to say it so it feels true. I’ve seen how testimonials work. How repetition works. How the feeling of belonging replaces critical thinking.

The question was never whether something is true. The question was always whether enough people believe it. We knew that then. They know it now.

I’m not telling this as a warning. Warnings don’t work when the hunger is there. I’m telling it because I know it. From the inside. And because naming it might help recognize it. Not to prevent it. But to decide more consciously when to go along.

We want to believe. That’s human. It was human when I sold bracelets. It’s human when someone orders a supplement today. The question isn’t whether we believe. The question is what we do with that belief. Whether we examine it. Whether we question it. Or whether we just click “buy” and hope that this time it’s real.

I don’t have a solution for that. I only have the experience that it works, again and again. On me. On others. Everywhere.