BURNING CHROME | December: The holiday tech spending trap

by Jing Garcia -- because the mind is a terrible thing to taste.

Originally posted on: techsabado.com/2025/12/20/burning-chrome-december-the-holiday-tech-spending-trap/

Every Christmas season, something shifts. City lights go up, malls roar to life, screens fill with ads peddling newly-released mobile phones, the latest smartwatches, noise-canceling earbuds, minimalist gadgets dressed up as essential. Like clockwork, we become prey to a seasonal ritual: buying not because we need something, but because marketing makes us believe this is the year we must upgrade, impress, belong. But what if all this holiday buzz is doing more harm than good — to our wallets, our values, and our planet?

December is the climax of consumer culture. Every discount, every “limited stock,” every gift suggestion tells us: now or never. Tech companies reserve their biggest campaign missiles for this stretch, and buyers rarely walk away empty-handed. In global reports from 2022, for example, the average person generated 7.8 kg of e-waste that year (ITU). The acceleration is ruthless: from 2010 to 2022, total global e-waste more than doubled, yet the share formally collected and recycled in safe, regulated systems was only 22.3% (ITU).

In the Philippines, many are already familiar with the bright lights and aggressive promos that close out the year, and increasingly, we are familiar with what comes after. Our country is among Southeast Asia’s top producers of e-waste (Philstar). Even back in 2019, average per-capita generation of e-waste here was about 3.9 kg, and that number has almost certainly crept up since (UNIDO).

The psychology of upgrading

Why do we buy these things even when what we own still works?

One driver is social comparison. We see friends, influencers, even strangers posting new gadgets, reviewing unboxings, dropping hints, posing with the latest model. That triggers a fear of being left behind — not just materially, but socially. What status signals will I miss if I don’t have that foldable screen, that 5G-enabled device, that XR headset everyone is talking about?

Then there’s perceived obsolescence. Big manufacturers make sure old models feel slow, get fewer software updates, and have batteries that fade — all of which push us toward the new. Sometimes the performance gain is real, but often it’s incremental: a little faster, a little sleeker, maybe better camera specs. But because these gains are shown in splashy ads, they feel more essential than they are.

We also fall prey to what psychologists call hedonic adaptation. We buy something new, it gives a thrill, a novelty, bragging rights. But soon enough the excitement fades. So we look for the next wave. December’s promotions, bundle deals, and holiday releases all feed into this — reminding us not only of what we have, but what others have that we don’t.

Another powerful pull is gift culture. Even if someone doesn’t strictly need a gadget, giving something perceived as “premium tech” affirms care and connection. There is nothing inherently wrong with gift-giving; it can deepen relationships. But when tech gifts are viewed as the only acceptable way to show love or status, it risks turning gifts into status symbols rather than expressions of meaning.

But as we chase that next gadget, a growing dissonance emerges between excess consumption and global inequality. While many enjoy the luxury of choice, others lack access to clean water, basic nutrition, or reliable electricity. The stark contrast can provoke guilt, defensiveness, denial — or worse, normalization: “Everyone does this” becomes justification.

Philosophers point to the Diderot Effect — acquiring one new item causes us to feel the rest of our environment is outdated, leading to further consumption (Wikipedia). It’s a spiral: buy something new, then feel dissatisfied with everything around it, buying more, wanting more.

Meanwhile, environmental and health costs are shifted onto those least able to resist or respond. E-waste isn’t inert. It contains mercury, lead, flame retardants, heavy metals, toxic plastics. In countries without strong regulation, informal recycling often means unsafe working conditions, polluted groundwater and soils, and toxic air. Sometimes people burn circuit boards for copper or use acid to leach components with little protection. The environmental burdens are real, and the human toll is invisible to mall shoppers.

The e-waste mountain

The data is brutal. In 2022, global e-waste generation was 62 million metric tons — enough to fill 1.55 million 40-ton trucks (UNITAR). If nothing changes, that number is expected to reach 82 million metric tons by 2030 (UNITAR). Only about 22.3% of e-waste globally was formally and safely collected and recycled in 2022. Some projections say formal recycling rates may drop toward 20% by 2030, because new waste is outpacing infrastructure (E-Waste Monitor).

In the Philippines the issue is worse. Policies exist — like the Ecological Solid Waste Management Act (RA 9003) and more recent administrative orders — but implementation lags. Rural and poorer areas often lack access to formal e-waste drop-offs or trustworthy recycling options. Many old gadgets or appliances get dumped, burned, or informally dismantled (E-Waste Monitor). Even when disassembly happens, safety is not guaranteed. Toxic residues leach into soils and water; hazardous dust pollutes the air.

What if we chose otherwise?

Perhaps the more radical thought, especially amid the holiday onslaught, is this: what if we resisted? What if, instead of getting caught in the whirl of new gadget releases, we asked whether we really needed the latest? What values would guide that alternative?

If we shifted cultural prestige from “having the newest” to “using what we have well,” demand would change. Repair, reuse, durability, open-source support, and repairability ratings would matter more. We might accept devices that do their work rather than the glitzy promise of marginal gains. Gift-giving might prioritize experiences or help over things: time, mentorship, art, access, repair classes.

Slowing down doesn’t mean shaming. It means noticing the value of less. It means acknowledging that well-being increases not by buying a new gadget, but by cultivating relationships, creativity, and inner growth. Studies suggest people who spend on experiences rather than material items report higher long-term satisfaction (ScienceDirect). Psychological research also shows that the more materialistic someone is — the more they equate worth or happiness with what they own — the greater the risk of lower well-being, anxiety, and debt. Wanting something because everyone else has it, or because an ad told us to feel left behind, is a fragile foundation.

The shifts must be both personal and structural. Governments must enforce and improve legislation: mandate that electronics be designed for repair, longer update support, modularity. Producers should be held accountable — through extended producer responsibility laws, stricter standards for hazardous materials, incentives for trade-in and refurbishment programs. Consumers need accessible, safe recycling infrastructure.

In the Philippines, there are signs of movement: local governments partnering with NGOs for e-waste collection, public awareness campaigns, formalizing informal recycling sectors. But these are still drops in the ocean compared with what is needed. Raising awareness of environmental, social, and health risks is not optional. It must be part of education, not just green marketing.

This Christmas, before spending that yearly bonus or 13th-month pay, perhaps the question isn’t what new gadget you’ll get, but what old gadget you will keep using — how you will resist the impulse to upgrade out of fear, envy, or glamour. Perhaps the measure of a generous gift is not what it costs but what it means, not how shiny but how sustainable. If enough of us stop believing that more always means better, the system might bend. It might reward repair more than replacement, longevity more than novelty. Instead of a world swamped by waste, perhaps one where what we have is enough — and what we give matters more than what we own.

If 2025 is going to be different, its story should start in December — not with regret over what we bought, but pride in what we chose not to.

Originally posted on: techsabado.com/2025/12/20/burning-chrome-december-the-holiday-tech-spending-trap/