The Metaverse Is Not an Escape. It’s a Reflection of Everything That’s Broken
Rethinking Who Builds the Metaverse, And for Whom
Not long ago, the Metaverse sounded like something out of a sci-8 novel. Now, it’s
being marketed as the future—where we’ll work, play, and exist beyond physical
reality. But let’s be real: is this a fresh start, or just capitalism in a new out8t?
The dream of the Metaverse is seductive. Who wouldn’t want to teleport between
digital worlds, reinvent themselves with a new avatar, or leave behind the limitations
of the physical world? But beneath the glossy marketing and cyber-utopian fantasies,
the same old power structures are at play. If the internet is any indication, the
Metaverse won’t be an egalitarian paradise—it’ll be another battleground where
corporations own the land, set the rules, and pro8t from our participation.
Utopian Fantasy or Corporate Playground?
Science 8ction has long imagined digital worlds as sites of liberation. Ready Player One
sold us the dream of an expansive, immersive universe where anyone could be
anything. But what the book glossed over—and what the movie completely ignored—is
that even in this supposed utopia, ownership still determined power. The Metaverse
isn’t being built by dreamers in their garages; it’s being developed by trillion-dollar
companies like Meta, Apple, and Google. That means the rules of this virtual world
will bene8t them 8rst.
French philosopher Henri Lefebvre argued that space isn’t neutral—it’s shaped by
those in power. Just like cities are built to serve governments and corporations, the
Metaverse is being constructed with clear winners and losers in mind. The idea of a
‘free’ virtual world is a myth when access is gated by expensive VR headsets, high-
speed internet, and proprietary platforms. Much like social media today, the Metaverse
will be free to enter—but only if you agree to be surveilled, monetized, and
manipulated.
A New Digital Underclass?
Tech leaders love to paint the Metaverse as an inclusive space where geography, race,
and economic class no longer matter. But let’s look at reality — as of today, nearly 40%
of the world’s population still doesn’t have reliable internet access. VR headsets
remain expensive, and even if they become cheaper, the best experiences will always
be locked behind paywalls. The Metaverse isn’t the democratization of experience—
it’s the rich white kid of technology, an expensive toy masquerading as a revolution.
Exclusion breeds exploitation. Those shut out won’t just stay out—they’ll 8nd ways in,
often under conditions that strip them of agency. And once inside, what kind of
existence awaits them? The internet has already turned into a marketplace where
attention is currency and labor is disguised as play. InZuencers create content for free,
hoping to make it big. Gig workers are constantly monitored and underpaid. The
Metaverse won’t disrupt these dynamics—it will intensify them.
We’ve already seen glimpses of what digital labor looks like. Gold farming—where
workers in lower-income countries grind for in-game currency to sell to wealthier
players—has existed for decades. In the Metaverse, this will be industrialized. Imagine
armies of low-wage workers in digital sweatshops, performing repetitive tasks to
sustain virtual economies. It’s not just possible; it’s inevitable.
Who Owns the Metaverse? Not Us.
The Metaverse isn’t some open digital frontier—it’s prime real estate, and Big Tech is
the landlord. If the internet taught us anything, it’s that those who own the platforms
make the rules, and those rules are never written for us. Meta’s version of the
Metaverse isn’t a playground; it’s a pro8t machine, designed to collect data, sell ads,
and keep us locked in.
Think Ready Player One, but without the underdog victory. Luxury brands are already
cashing in with digital exclusives, concerts are moving to virtual stages, and o[ce life
is shifting to immersive workspaces. And while the Metaverse promises a sleek digital
future, its environmental cost is anything but virtual. Power-hungry data centers
devour massive amounts of energy, and blockchain-based assets like NFTs generate
carbon footprints that rival small countries. As these technologies scale, so will their
impact—raising questions about sustainability in a world already grappling with
climate change.
But this isn’t just a problem for some distant, fully immersive future. The Metaverse is
already bleeding into our everyday lives—not through clunky VR headsets or
cartoonish avatars, but through augmented reality (AR), AI, and the digital layers
creeping into our cities, jobs, and identities. The way we shop, socialize, and work is
being quietly rewritten. And if history is any guide, the people shaping this future
aren’t doing it for us.
So why should we care?
Because niche tech doesn’t stay niche for long. Social media was once a toy for college
students. Crypto started as an internet experiment. Now, both shape economies,
elections, and livelihoods. The Metaverse is following the same trajectory—starting as
a digital playground for the privileged before embedding itself into the systems that
govern everyday life. Ignore it now, and by the time it matters, it’ll be too late to push
back.
But rejecting the Metaverse outright isn’t the answer. The real 8ght is for a version
that serves people, not pro8t. That means pushing for fair digital labor laws, holding
Big Tech accountable, and supporting alternatives that resist corporate control like
open-source virtual worlds, community-owned platforms, and ethical digital
collectives.
If we don’t, the Metaverse won’t be an escape—it’ll be a mirror. And this time, we
won’t even be able to log out.
