The craze sweeping the world is a cautionary tale for us

B

ack in the 1980s, in America, there was a popular bumper sticker with the motto: “He who dies with the most toys wins!”

In 2025 this materialistic quest for toys is manifest in the global phenomenon of Labubu, the current must-have toy. It’s an ordinary, creepy-in-a-sort-of-cute-way, plush toy suitable for toddlers but also aimed at adults. Labubu is manufactured by a multibillion-dollar company that has profited from human nature: our desire to have “stuff,” to belong, to receive attention, and to find distraction from our pain and problems.

Yes, a little stuffed doll can do all that.

Millions of people from all around the world now own a collection of Labubus in the hopes of attaining social status, acceptance, emotional relief, and joy. People are standing in line for ten or more hours, waiting to purchase their next Labubu. Competition for the product has led to physical violence, to the point where some stores have stopped carrying Labubus for fear of altercations in the aisles. In China, people are risking imprisonment for attempting to smuggle the toys out of the country.

Originally selling for around $20, these little critters now go for several hundred dollars and even up to thousands of dollars each (and you apparently need lots of them). Clothes and accessories are available for purchase as well, ensuring that adult men and women can stay fully occupied and obsessed as they purchase, arrange, and display their collections of Labubus.

There are even people who are so hyper-focused on the craze that, like those suffering from other severe addictions, they may override their financial limits and/or neglect their normal responsibilities and activities of life as they pursue the chase for Labubus.

What’s All This Got to Do With Us?

The Labubu craze is a cautionary tale. We human beings are vulnerable. We all know intellectually that a life that is focused on the acquisition of material objects quickly becomes distorted and empty, and that we ourselves become insatiable.

But the human qualities that lead Labubu acquirers to spend copious time, money, and energy to feel good for a few minutes (mostly in the anticipation phase of buying a new toy) or to earn approval from their peers, are human qualities that we also possess. Just like the right brand of socks, sweatshirt, or schoolbag magically raises a child’s self-esteem and secures her place in the society of her peers, or just like the right wig, car, or simchah caterer might give us adults acceptance or status, any material acquisition can be a source of intense — and dangerous — emotional gratification.

Herd mentality — the tendency to do what everyone else does, to like what everyone else likes, to need what everyone else needs — is wired into us by Hashem. So is the human need to fit in, an act accomplished by signaling, “I have the stuff I’m supposed to have; I’m one of you.” Even the joy of acquiring stuff is natural to us (“I have things, therefore I am”) and the anticipation of acquiring even more things triggers a natural feeling of joy and pleasure.

In other words, the Labubu collectors and we ourselves share a common physiology and psychology that makes acquiring things a natural drive that has the potential to completely mislead and derail us. Imagine all those silly grown people spending their precious moments investing in, acquiring, and managing Labubus when they could be engaged in building a meaningful and productive adult life! They’re playing with dolls when they could be creating, inventing, and developing needed resources for humanity.

But let’s forget the Labubu folks and imagine ourselves and our children focusing on our own collection of material items, busy with acquiring, managing, and displaying our things, focused on what we have and trying to get more of it, ever more beautiful, amazing, impressive and image-building. We, too, play with things (our clothes, homes, and other possessions) as if doing so will be our salvation and the key to our success.

While there’s nothing inherently wrong with having dolls or jewelry, making such things the be-all and end-all of one’s life is a real problem. Let’s not get drawn into the Labubu delusion ourselves.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 950)