Am I just an ape with unlimited bananas?
Lately, I’ve been feeling a gnawing tension between my worldview and my life. I cheer the tech-bro rallying cry of abundance — the belief that technological progress brings material benefits — and I marvel at breakthroughs in energy, AI, and medicine. Yet in my own life, I am drowning in abundance. And I don’t mean that as a humble brag. Whether it’s food, social media, or Netflix, I struggle with saying no to excess. Too much is too readily available on my phone, TV, and kitchen shelves. Sugar, fat, dopamine, alcohol, and mindless scrolling constantly lure my senses, and often overwhelm them.
Oh look — my phone buzzes with another notification.
I face the same struggle as a parent. Managing screen time for my kid is tough when cartoons are available 24/7 on multiple devices. When I was a kid, cartoons were a Saturday-morning treat. Don’t get me wrong, I prefer today’s options. Getting to watch “The Perfect Couple” on Netflix and “Slow Horses” on Apple+ any time I want is amazing. But I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge the drawbacks: the decision fatigue, the ease of a binge, the need to monitor my kid’s usage like a lifeguard at the beach.
So I’m left with this question: what is the right level of material abundance for living a good life? How can I enjoy the fruits of abundance without letting them crowd out meaning and joy?
I first heard the metaphor of “apes with unlimited bananas” in a podcast with Nick Bostrom, the Oxford philosopher who authored Superintelligence and Deep Utopia. The metaphor resonated because it captured exactly this inner tension. I also found it funny. I pictured apes surrounded by endless bananas and laughed out loud. What if the apes get so fat on unlimited bananas that they need Ozempic?
“Unlimited bananas” captures the dilemma of abundance: tremendous benefits paired with distraction and unintended consequences if left unchecked.
For most of history, humans have been wired to say “yes” to more — to eat when food is available, gather information, and accumulate resources as a hedge against scarcity. But today, especially in affluent societies like America, the challenge has flipped: saying no to excess. Our Big Gulps, Walmarts and F-150s — our Ventis, Costcos, and Land Rovers — scream MORE! BIGGER! CLICK! BUY NOW! We are built for scarcity and forced to navigate excess.
Not all abundance is created equal, of course. Clean water is essential in a way ice cream is not. Renewable energy is a net positive, but information without curation is overwhelming. Abundant automation is a source of productivity but also a source of dependency and dislocated jobs. Each new technology brings new possibilities, challenges, and unintended consequences we didn’t see coming. Our task, individually and collectively, is to mine the benefits, avoid the pitfalls, and monitor secondary effects like hell before they harm us.
In a decade, when humanoid robots become household staples, the benefits may be tremendous. But we’d be foolish to ignore privacy, security, and dependency issues. Ditto for synthetic biology — incredible gene therapies one one side, and biosecurity and ethical nightmares on the other.
Our culture, like me, is caught in the push and pull of abundance — which is why the company that makes Ozempic has a valuation north of $500 billion. Techno-capitalism gave us agricultural productivity, then Doritos, and now Ozempic to handle the fallout. The net effect has been positive — fewer starving people today — but it’s a wild ride of profound benefits and cascading unintended effects.
I know I’m not alone in seeking balance. One friend recently confided about his struggle with consuming pornography. Another shared how Apple Music has ruined music for him; he misses the emotional connection, the tactile feel, and curated artistic vision that albums offered.
To thrive amid unlimited bananas, the key is moderation: consuming the right amount of bananas while making space for humor, love, relationships, and the quest for meaning. Just as I set limits on my kid’s screen time, I need limits for myself, especially for the sugar and dopamine that hijack my biology. I also need to unplug through running, yoga, hiking, and old, paper books. Even as I write this, there’s a part of me that’s like, Let’s do these things — but not yet! There’s another notification I have to check!!
Ruthless curation matters too. Like a Michelin chef selecting ingredients, I need to consciously choose the healthiest bananas — the experiences, information, and relationships I let into my life. True autonomy comes from owning my consumption, even my thoughts. And some problems are too big for individual effort. Smart, proactive policies like banning social media among kids can help make sure these technologies serve humanity while mitigating dangers.
We should keep accelerating technology. Full stop. But material abundance can’t solve the human condition. It can’t give us meaning the way love, relationships, and living can. The benefits and pitfalls of unlimited bananas are all around us. When I look in the mirror, I see an ape jumping up and down, trying to make sense of it all.
Special thanks to CansaFis Foote, The Elysian, Lily Luo, Tim Preston, and others for amazing feedback on early drafts of this essay.
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I think grocery stores are in a way one of the first cases of unlimited bananas. Quite literally. My parents thankfully raised us more agrarian even though they worked in a grocery store their entire working lives. I think they saw what it did to people. It was and is a pornography of produce.
This metaphor has me thinking "Like a Michelin chef picking ingredients, I need to consciously choose the healthiest selection of bananas". Not just the healthiest but I know I desire to know my farmers. I trust my own produce and those I consume when I feel connected to the producer.
Obviously we want no soul to starve, but we are perhaps collectively discovering what it takes to empower every person to farm. Even if it's a single crop, something to feel apart of creating, in an otherwise limitless sea of consuming.
Great piece Jeff, loved reading it and I know I'll be sitting with this idea more. My best to you.
The best treatise on our endless desire for more and what to do about it is psychologist Timothy Miller's *How to Want What You Have: Discovering the Magic and Grandeur of Ordinary Existence*. The short summary is that our ancestors evolved to be never satisfied with the status, love, and resources they currently had because pursuit of more of those things made them more reproductively successful than individuals who were not similarly motivated. In times of scarcity, the motive to always want more was adaptive, but today with "unlimited bananas" the motivation for more that we inherited causes misery. The solution, suggests Miller, is to cultivate compassion, attention, and gratitude. These three attitudes do not destroy our desire for more, but at least they can take the edge off and reduce our suffering.