From Opium to iPhone

How Addiction Became the World’s Most Profitable Industry

For centuries, addiction has shaped the world. Opium, morphine, heroin, OxyContin. Alcohol built empires. Sugar fueled economies. Tobacco shaped nations. Every era had its drug of choice, and every time, the powerful profited while the weak suffered.

We tell ourselves we’ve moved on. That we’ve evolved. That addiction is a relic of the past.

But we didn’t quit. We just traded one addiction for another.

The difference now is that this one is worse.

Drugs ravaged bodies, but tech hijacks minds. The addiction isn’t physical anymore. It’s psychological. It’s rewiring the way humans think, react, and function at the most fundamental level. The consequences aren’t just personal. They’re systemic. They’re societal. They’re generational.

A drug addict destroys their own life. A society addicted to technology destroys its future.

Addiction has always been about control. The British knew it when they flooded China with opium in the 1800s, forcing an entire nation into dependency to maintain trade dominance. The pharmaceutical industry knew it when they rebranded heroin as a miracle cure in the early 1900s. The Sackler family knew it when they turned OxyContin into a billion-dollar empire while millions overdosed.

But drugs have limits. Bodies give out. The damage is visible. It’s tragic, but it’s obvious. When someone overdoses, you see the destruction. It’s undeniable. It forces a reaction.

A mental addiction, though, is silent. There’s no blood. No collapsed veins. No autopsy report. Just a slow, systematic unraveling of the human mind. Attention spans shrink. Dopamine receptors fry. Patience disappears. Creativity withers. Critical thinking dies. And no one even realizes it’s happening.

The world’s most valuable companies—Apple, Google, Meta, TikTok—aren’t selling products. They’re selling addiction.

Opium hijacked neurotransmitters. Social media does the same. Every notification, every like, every viral video is a synthetic dopamine hit, engineered to keep people chasing the next high. Cocaine kept people coming back for more. TikTok’s algorithm does it better. The infinite scroll ensures users never stop consuming, never stop craving, never stop feeding the machine. Big Tobacco designed cigarettes to be addictive. Instagram and Snapchat use the same psychological warfare. Streaks, engagement metrics, endless notifications—manufactured dependency dressed up as entertainment.

A heroin addict can detox. A screen addict can’t. Their entire life is embedded in the addiction. Work, school, relationships, entertainment, socializing—every aspect of modern existence demands digital engagement. There is no quitting. There is no escape.

We don’t think of tech as a drug because it doesn’t come in a bottle or a needle. But it follows the same pattern as every substance that’s ever enslaved humanity. It alters brain chemistry, creates withdrawal symptoms—anxiety, depression, attention deficits, compulsive behaviors. It rewires fundamental cognitive functions. And the worst part is that most people don’t even realize they’re addicted.

We used to worry about overdosing on heroin. Now, people are losing their ability to focus, to think critically, to engage with reality. The damage is slower, but the outcome is the same.

It’s no accident.

The tech industry has studied addiction for decades. Facebook hired behavioral psychologists. Gaming companies use casino tactics to keep people playing. Streaming services engineer autoplay to prevent natural stopping points. Every app, every feature, every algorithm is designed for one purpose— to keep you engaged.

The same way the old drug lords flooded the streets with heroin, today’s tech giants flood the digital world with an endless supply of synthetic dopamine. They get kids hooked early before they can resist. They normalize dependency until it feels unnatural not to be online. They punish detox so that anyone who tries to disconnect feels isolated, out of touch, left behind. They monetize relapse, ensuring that those who try to quit eventually come crawling back, desperate for the next hit of validation.

This isn’t a conspiracy. It’s just business. The same way the Rockefellers profited off oil, the Sacklers profited off opioids, and the alcohol industry profited off alcoholism, Big Tech profits off you—your time, your attention, your addiction.

If history has taught us anything, it’s that humans are weak. We crave pleasure. We avoid discomfort. We want easy answers, immediate gratification, effortless entertainment. That’s why addiction never disappears. The product just evolves.

The difference now is that we aren’t just users. We’re the product. Every second you spend scrolling, someone is making money. Every dopamine hit, every click, every moment of your time—it’s all being harvested, packaged, and sold.

And the best part?

You’re the one paying for it.

So what do we do?

First, wake up. Recognize that this isn’t accidental. It’s by design. Every addiction is manufactured, and the industries that profit from them don’t care about the consequences.

Second, take back control. Start using technology without letting it use you.

Because if we don’t, the cycle will never end. The world won’t just have addicts. It will have an entire generation of people who don’t even know what it means to be free.

Ask yourself—how addicted are you?

And if you don’t know the answer, maybe that’s the biggest problem of all.