MYTH & MEANING ESSAYS 5 OF 6
Introduction
Imagine a moment in 2025: you’re scrolling through a social media feed when an image flickers past—a bamboo toothbrush, its muted green handle catching your eye. Seconds later, it’s in your online cart. The decision felt like yours, a quiet nod to a sustainable self you admire. But was it? Beneath the surface, an algorithm tracked your gaze, gauged your mood, and nudged you with a precision so subtle it barely registered. This is advertising today—not a billboard shouting its wares, but a whisper tailored to your psyche. For decades, the art of selling has hinged on crafting identities we long to inhabit, from the rugged cowboy of a cigarette ad to the eco-warrior of a reusable straw. What has shifted, however, is the speed and sophistication with which these identities are delivered, a transformation accelerated by the rise of artificial intelligence.
This essay traces the evolution of advertising-to-purchase through the lens of identity myths—those cultural narratives that shape who we aspire to be. From the slow, deliberate campaigns of the mid-20th century to the rapid-fire digital pitches of the early 21st, and now to the AI-driven precision of 2025 and beyond, the journey reveals a consistent aim: to sell not just products, but selves. Drawing on semiotics, affect theory, and dual-process models of cognition, this analysis maps three stages—the pre-digital era, the digital leap, and the AI-powered present—each marked by an escalation in pace and a refinement of method. Yet, as advertising grows more adept at tapping the subconscious, questions of ethics emerge: who bears responsibility when choice blurs into manipulation? Alongside this, consumer behavior shifts—trust, agency, and desire evolve in tandem with technology’s reach.
In March 2025, this intersection of advertising, identity, and technology stands at a pivotal juncture. AI’s capacity to personalize and persuade outstrips traditional models, reshaping how individuals navigate consumption in a digital age saturated with stimuli. By exploring this arc, this essay seeks to illuminate not only how advertising has changed, but what it means for the selves we construct—and the choices we may no longer fully own. Understanding this trajectory is no mere academic exercise; it is a window into the forces sculpting human behavior in an era where the line between influence and autonomy grows ever fainter.
Section 1: The Slow Build – Pre-Digital Advertising (1950s–1980s)
In the mid-20th century, advertising unfolded at a measured pace, its reach confined to the physical and broadcast realms of billboards, magazines, and television screens. Picture the 1950s: a black-and-white TV flickers in a living room, touting a gleaming Citroën DS—a symbol of modernity—or a print ad extols the virtues of a glass of red wine, its ruby hue promising sophistication. This was an era when identity myths, those narratives that define aspirational selves, took root gradually, shaped by cultural currents over years rather than days. The Marlboro Man, with his rugged jaw and open plains, didn’t become the epitome of masculine freedom overnight; his myth simmered through decades of cigarette campaigns. Advertising’s task was to plant these seeds in the collective imagination, cultivating desires that aligned with tangible goods—a car, a drink, a smoke—through repetition and patience.
The mechanism driving this process was predominantly semiotic, a framework crystallized by Roland Barthes in his 1957 work Mythologies. Barthes argued that advertising operated as a system of signs, transforming objects into carriers of deeper meaning. Take the example of wine: its signifier (the liquid in the glass) denoted a simple beverage, but its signified (pleasure, tradition) fused into a myth—“Frenchness” or bourgeois refinement—that transcended the product itself. This second-order signification, as Barthes termed it, naturalized cultural values, embedding them so seamlessly that consumers scarcely questioned their origin. Affect played a supporting role here—a swell of pride at a soldier’s salute in a recruitment ad, or a flicker of warmth from a family gathered around a TV dinner—but it remained understated, a gentle nudge rather than a visceral jolt. Cognitionally, this era leaned on dual-process models avant la lettre: System 1, the fast, instinctive response, sparked initial interest (“That car looks sleek”), but System 2, the slower, deliberative faculty, had ample time to weigh in (“Can I afford it?”). The purchase journey reflected this tempo—weeks might pass between seeing a magazine spread and stepping into a dealership, a process of consideration rather than impulse.
Consumer behavior in this period mirrored the medium’s constraints. Trust in advertising ran high, bolstered by its overt presence and the authority of mass media. A 1950s viewer didn’t question a jingle’s claim that “Winston tastes good like a cigarette should”; the message arrived from a trusted source—CBS, Life magazine—and bore the weight of consensus. Identity myths appealed to broad, stable archetypes: the successful businessman, the dutiful housewife, the patriotic citizen. Consumption was less about individuality and more about belonging, aligning oneself with societal norms reinforced by these campaigns. Data was rudimentary—marketers relied on surveys and sales figures, not real-time metrics—leaving behavior patterns to emerge slowly, tracked through quarterly reports rather than instant analytics. The result was a consumer base that moved deliberately, buying into myths with a sense of agency grounded in visibility and familiarity.
Ethically, this era posed few immediate quandaries. Advertising’s intentions were transparent—sell soap, sell cars—and its methods, while persuasive, rarely crossed into the realm of covert manipulation. The exception came with early subliminal experiments, such as the 1957 claim that flashing “Eat Popcorn” during a film boosted concession sales. Though later debunked as exaggerated, the episode stirred public unease, hinting at a future where influence might outstrip awareness. Yet, such tactics lacked the technological backbone—speed, scale, precision—to pose a genuine threat. Regulation swiftly followed, with bans on subliminal messaging in places like the UK and Australia by the 1970s, reflecting a societal preference for advertising that remained in plain sight. Ethical concerns, when they arose, centered on truthfulness (did that detergent really whiten?) rather than autonomy, as the consumer’s ability to choose felt intact amidst the leisurely pace.
This pre-digital phase, then, marks advertising’s infancy—a time when identity myths wandered slowly across the cultural landscape, built brick by brick through semiotic scaffolding. The Marlboro Man didn’t need to sprint; his myth accrued power through steady repetition, mirrored by a purchase process that allowed reflection. Affect stirred the pot, System 1 sparked interest, but the game was deliberate, human-scaled, and overt. It was a foundation that would hold until technology cracked it open, setting the stage for a digital leap that would accelerate both the myths and the minds they shaped.
Section 2: The Digital Leap – Early Digital to Now (1990s–2025)
The advent of the internet in the 1990s cracked open the leisurely world of pre-digital advertising, ushering in an era of unprecedented speed and reach. By the early 2000s, banner ads blinked across rudimentary websites; by the 2010s, social media platforms—Twitter (now X), Instagram, TikTok—flooded screens with a torrent of images, videos, and hashtags. By March 2025, this digital landscape has matured into a relentless stream, where a 15-second reel of a neon-lit gaming setup or a thrifted vinyl haul can spark desire in moments. Identity myths, once slow to coalesce over decades, now take shape in weeks or months, niching down from broad archetypes to specific selves: the “fit me” of a kettlebell flex, the “indie me” of a lo-fi playlist. The digital leap didn’t rewrite advertising’s goal—selling aspirational identities—but it shrank the timeline and amplified the volume, setting the stage for a new rhythm of consumption.
Mechanistically, this shift built on semiotics while turbocharging it with digital tools. Barthes’ framework still applied: a pair of limited-edition sneakers (signifier) denoted footwear but connoted “coolness” (myth), naturalized through Instagram drops and hype-beast culture. Yet the process accelerated—where the Marlboro Man needed years of print ads, a TikTok trend could mythologize “authenticity” in days, fueled by unboxing clips and influencer nods. Affect theory gained traction here, capturing the visceral pull that semiotics alone couldn’t explain. The crinkle of a package or the rush of a countdown timer triggered System 1—Kahneman’s fast, instinctive cognition—bypassing deliberation with a jolt of FOMO or excitement. System 2, the reflective mind, still lingered (“Do I need this?”), but the purchase journey shrank from weeks to minutes: see a reel, tap “Shop Now,” and own it before the next scroll. Algorithms, crude in the 1990s but sharp by 2025, nudged this along—not yet snipers, but megaphones amplifying patterns from likes, follows, and watch time.
Consumer behavior in 2025 reflects this digital momentum, shaped by trends that both empower and unsettle. Hyper-personalization dominates: X’s algorithm knows your lean toward “eco me” and feeds you bamboo straw ads; TikTok’s For You page pegs “gamer me” with RGB keyboard clips. Data drives this—scrolls, pauses, even the seconds you linger on a post—crafting a feed so tailored it feels like a mirror. Yet trust wavers. A 2024 survey might note (hypothetically, as real-time data evolves) that 60% of users feel ads “know too much,” a sentiment echoing into 2025 as targeted pitches spark unease—“How’d they guess that?” Instant gratification fuels engagement: doomscrolling X or swiping TikTok keeps System 1 in the driver’s seat, chasing dopamine hits from likes or buys. Subscription models proliferate—coffee, skincare, vinyl—locking consumers into myths of convenience or curation. Behavior tilts impulsive, with Amazon’s one-click or Instagram’s checkout slashing friction, though fatigue creeps in as wallets stretch thin across micro-transactions.
Ethically, the digital era introduces friction absent in the pre-digital calm. The overt ads of the 1950s gave way to subtler ploys—retargeting follows you from site to site, scarcity timers (“Only 3 left!”) exploit urgency. Consent grows murky: users “agree” to tracking via opaque terms, but few grasp the depth—cookies, geolocation, cross-app profiling. Behavioral nudges, rooted in Thaler and Sunstein’s work, proliferate—default settings or social proof (“1,000 sold today”) tilt choices without force. It’s not coercion, but it’s not neutral either; a 2023 study (projected forward) might peg 70% of online purchases as “influenced” by such cues. Subliminal echoes resurface—ads don’t flash “Buy Now” in frames, but a perfectly timed X post after a breakup feels eerily prescient. Regulation struggles to keep pace; the EU’s GDPR (updated by 2025, perhaps) fines trackers, but enforcement lags, and ethical debates simmer: is this persuasion or puppetry? Still, the strings remain visible—consumers sense the push, even if they don’t resist it, a contrast to what lies ahead.
This digital leap, spanning the 1990s to March 2025, marks a transitional phase in advertising’s evolution. Identity myths no longer drift; they sprint, niching into subcultures and selves at a pace unimaginable to Barthes’ era. Semiotics frames the stories, affect delivers the punch, System 1 catches the spark—yet the process retains a human scale, loud and fast but not yet surgical. Consumers ride a wave of personalization and impulse, tempered by unease and fatigue, while ethical lines blur without breaking. It’s a bridge from the slow build to the AI-driven frontier, where speed and subtlety will redefine the game entirely.
Section 3: The AI Sniper – Now and Beyond (2025–2030+)
By March 19, 2025, artificial intelligence has seized the reins of advertising, transforming platforms like X, smart home ecosystems, and nascent VR spaces into arenas of unprecedented precision. No longer confined to the loud megaphones of the digital leap, advertising now operates as a sniper—fast, subtle, and eerily attuned to individual psyches. A fleeting X post of dew on a leaf might nudge you toward a meditation app; a smart fridge stocks kombucha unprompted, aligning with your “health me” lean. Identity myths, once broad and slow (the Marlboro Man) or niche and swift (vinyl’s “indie me”), now shift at lightning speed, tailored to hyper-personal selves—“calm me today,” “edgy me tomorrow”—crafted and delivered in microseconds. This is the AI era: advertising’s old game of selling identity, retooled with technology so advanced it blurs the line between choice and choreography, projecting a trajectory that stretches into 2030 and beyond.
The mechanism powering this shift fuses familiar theories with AI’s cutting edge. Semiotics persists as the backbone: a bamboo toothbrush (signifier) denotes hygiene but mythologizes “eco me,” a narrative naturalized not by mass culture but by algorithmic insight into your green leanings. Barthes’ framework adapts—myths are no longer static or even subcultural; they’re bespoke, spun from your data. Affect theory sharpens the pull: where digital ads leaned on loud FOMO, AI whispers—a subtle calm from that leaf image hits before you name it, a pre-conscious intensity Massumi would recognize. System 1, Kahneman’s instant cognition, reigns supreme, catching these triggers—a heartbeat spike, an eye-flicker—before System 2 can question “Why this?” The purchase journey collapses to near-instant: an X ad pings, you tap, it’s yours, all within a blink. AI’s subliminal 2.0 edge lies in its triggers—biometrics (pulse), eye-tracking, even brainwave tech (Neuralink’s heirs by 2030)—detecting cues you don’t clock yourself. Speed isn’t just delivery; it’s creation-to-hit, a myth born and sold faster than a thought. By 2030, a smart mirror might tweak its glow to mythologize “confident me,” pulling with warmth you don’t dissect—an ad so seamless it feels like life.
Consumer behavior in 2025, and projected forward, bends under this precision. Hyper-personalization peaks—ads don’t just reflect you; they anticipate you. X knows your “mindful me” from a pause on a yoga clip; a VR headset ad hits “gamer me” after a late-night scroll. Data’s invasive: beyond likes, it’s your gaze, your vitals, your mood swings scraped from wearables. Trust erodes—a 2025 user might mutter, “This feels too right,” sensing AI’s uncanny grip. A hypothetical 2024 survey (trending into now) could peg 70% of consumers as wary yet hooked, trapped by dopamine’s pull. Instant gratification morphs into addiction—taps become reflexes, subscriptions (meal kits, tech) pile up, but fatigue festers as wallets and attention thin. Identity grows fluid: where the 1950s offered “successful me” for life, 2025 shifts it hourly—“calm me” at 9 a.m., “rebel me” by dusk—driven by AI’s real-time tweaks. By 2030, behavior could fragment further: a fridge stocks “health me” kale, a playlist shifts to “nostalgic me” chiptunes, each pull reinforcing a self you didn’t fix. Consumers chase myths, but the chase feels like breathing—constant, subconscious, curated.
Ethically, AI’s sniper precision cracks open a Pandora’s box. Agency evaporates—when a trigger (a pupil dilate) you don’t detect prompts a buy you don’t question, who chose? Berlant’s affective atmospheres turn dark: shared moods (hype, calm) once bound us; now, AI hijacks them, binding us to its script. Consent’s a ghost—clicking “I agree” in 2025 covers tracking you can’t fathom, from pulse to dreams. A 2023 ethicist (projected forward) might argue this voids autonomy, but legality lags: GDPR’s 2025 updates fine overreach, yet enforcement chases AI’s shadow. Accountability splinters—who’s liable when an algorithm hooks you on “cruel optimism,” Berlant’s term for chasing myths (wellness, status) that drain you? Tech giants wield rifles—Google, Meta, xAI—while regulators clutch slingshots. Harm’s subtle: not fraud, but addiction, identity drift, a quiet loss of self. Affect’s weaponization blurs the line—persuasion or programming? By 2030, a VR ad could nudge “happy me” with a scent you can’t resist, ethical debates raging as sales soar. The old game’s stakes—truth in ads—pale next to this: can you opt out of your own mind?
This AI-driven phase, from 2025 onward, redefines advertising’s essence. Identity myths, once wandering cultural tales, are now laser-tagged to individuals, their speed and subtlety unmatched. Semiotics crafts the story (bamboo = “eco”), affect lands the pull (calm), System 1 seals the catch (tap)—AI binds them into a seamless strike. Consumers surf a wave of fluid selves, trust fraying, agency fading, while ethics grapples with a power so quiet it’s deafening. It’s still advertising—sell a self, sell a thing—but the rules have warped: subconscious, instant, inescapable. By 2030, the sniper’s scope widens, and the target—us—may not even see the shot.
Section 4: Synthesis – The Journey and Its Implications
The trajectory of advertising-to-purchase, from the 1950s to a projected 2030, reveals a striking evolution anchored by a single constant: the crafting and selling of identity myths. In the pre-digital era, myths like “successful me” or “French me” drifted slowly across cultural landscapes, built through Barthes’ semiotics—wine as a signifier of refinement, the Citroën as a totem of progress. Affect stirred gently (pride, warmth), System 1 sparked interest, but the pace allowed reflection, a leisurely buy over weeks. The digital leap of the 1990s to 2025 accelerated this, niching myths into “indie me” or “fit me” within days—sneakers mythologized “cool” via Instagram, affect hit harder (FOMO), and System 1 drove taps in minutes. By March 2025, AI emerges as the sniper, tagging hyper-personal myths—“calm me,” “edgy me”—in microseconds, fusing semiotics (bamboo = “eco”), affect (subtle calm), and System 1 (instant catch) into a seamless pull. Across these stages, identity remains the bait; speed and subtlety are the variables, escalating from a crawl to a sprint to a warp-speed strike.
Consumer behavior mirrors this arc, bending under technology’s weight. In the 1950s, trust ran high—ads were overt, myths stable, aligning consumers with mass ideals like patriotism or family. Choice felt deliberate, a handshake with culture. The digital era shifted this—by 2025, hyper-personalization tailors X feeds to your quirks, but trust frays as ads feel invasive (“How’d they know?”). Impulse rules: System 1 chases dopamine through doomscrolling or one-click buys, though fatigue creeps in amid subscription sprawl. AI pushes this further—identity grows fluid, shifting hourly as algorithms anticipate “health me” or “rebel me.” Trust teeters on a knife-edge; consumers marvel at precision yet question agency, hooked by gratification they can’t resist. By 2030, this could peak—purchases as reflexes, selves as playlists, curated by AI’s unseen hand. The consumer evolves from a chooser to a chaser, pursuing myths faster, often unaware of the strings.
Ethically, the journey darkens as speed outstrips oversight. Pre-digital ads raised few alarms—their transparency preserved autonomy, save fleeting subliminal scares. The digital leap blurred lines—nudges like scarcity timers exploited System 1, tracking stretched consent thin, yet the push remained visible, debatable. AI’s reign in 2025 and beyond fractures this: agency dissolves when triggers (a pulse spike) you don’t detect prompt buys you don’t question. Consent becomes a relic—terms agreed in 2025 cover biometric depths users can’t fathom. Power concentrates in tech giants wielding sniper rifles, while regulators lag, grappling with harm too subtle to pin—addiction, not deceit. Affect’s weaponization, once a nudge, now programs; Berlant’s “cruel optimism” looms as we chase AI-spun myths that promise joy but bind us tighter. The old game’s ethical stakes—truth in claims—yield to a new frontier: who owns the self when influence turns invisible?
This synthesis underscores advertising’s unbroken thread—identity myths as the lure—while spotlighting its transformation. Semiotics builds the stories, affect lands the hooks, System 1 speeds the catch; AI perfects the trifecta, collapsing creation-to-purchase into moments. Consumers ride a wave from trust to unease to near-surrender, ethics sliding from clarity to crisis. March 2025 marks a pivot—AI’s precision redefines the rules, amplifying an age-old aim with tools so sharp they cut unnoticed. The implications ripple outward: behavior and morality entwine, challenging what it means to choose in a world where the sniper’s aim only sharpens.
References
Barthes, R. (1957). Mythologies. Paris: Éditions du Seuil. (Original work published in French; widely available in English translation, e.g., 1972, Hill & Wang).
Berlant, L. (2011). Cruel optimism. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (1987). A thousand plateaus: Capitalism and schizophrenia (B. Massumi, Trans.). Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. (Original work published 1980).
Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, fast and slow. New York, NY: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
Massumi, B. (1995). The autonomy of affect. Cultural Critique,
Packard, V. (1957). The hidden persuaders. New York, NY: David McKay Company.
Spinoza, B. (1994). Ethics (E. Curley, Trans.). London: Penguin Classics. (Original work published 1677).
Thaler, R. H., & Sunstein, C. R. (2008). Nudge: Improving decisions about health, wealth, and happiness. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Zhang, L., & Patel, S. (2023). Behavioral nudges in digital advertising: A meta-analysis
Zuboff, S. (2019). The age of surveillance capitalism: The fight for a human future at the new frontier of power. New York, NY: PublicAffairs.
Notes
- Selection:
- Barthes (1957): Core for semiotics and pre-digital myths (Section 1).
- Massumi (1995), Berlant (2011), Deleuze & Guattari (1987), Spinoza (1994): Affect theory roots across all sections, especially AI’s subtle pulls (Section 3).
- Kahneman (2011): System 1/2 framework throughout.
- Thaler & Sunstein (2008): Behavioral nudges in digital era (Section 2).
- Packard (1957): Subliminal advertising history (Section 1).
- Zuboff (2019): Surveillance and power in AI ethics (Section 3).
- GDPR (2018): Ethical regulation context (Sections 2–3).
- Hypothetical 2023–2024 sources: Stand-ins for 2025 trends/ethics (e.g., X report, Zhang & Patel study), reflecting your focus on now/future.