Subscription economy: The death of ownership and rise of endless payments

BY ELIZABETH CHISOROM CHUKWU

We live in an age where access is trumping ownership, where the notion of “buy once, own forever” has slowly been eroded by subscription models. What once required a single transaction has evolved into recurring payments, tethering people to platforms and services indefinitely. If you wanted to watch a movie in the 1990s, you bought a DVD or VHS tape. If you wanted to listen to your favourite album, you purchased a CD, cassette, or vinyl. Ownership was yours. Once you had it, it was yours to keep, independent of future financial obligations. Now, owning has become a luxury in the digital age, and paying has become a way of life.

This isn’t just about your Netflix or Spotify subscription anymore, although one cannot pretend this isn’t where it all began. Subscription models have penetrated almost every industry, from the software digital creators need to the cars people drive. As the world hurtles further into the digital era, businesses increasingly restructure their models toward a framework where everything has an ongoing fee. This shift has introduced some conveniences—who wouldn’t appreciate access to a vast catalogue of films or an entire music library at a fraction of the cost of owning each title? But beneath the surface, the subscription model is fundamentally altering our relationship with money, ownership, and even freedom.

One of the most glaring examples of the subscription takeover is in the software world, where creatives and professionals now find themselves at the mercy of companies like Adobe. Adobe’s Creative Cloud, the gold standard for graphic designers, photographers, and video editors, has pivoted entirely to subscription-only models. With a monthly fee of over $50, users can access the apps needed for their work. However, this fee must be paid continually—forever—if they want to maintain access. Stop paying, and the tools disappear.

The cost becomes exorbitant for designers working in regions such as Nigeria, where currency exchange rates are unfavourable. Fifty dollars may not be much for an American freelancer. However, for someone in Lagos, where exchange rates can render that fee equivalent to a significant portion of their monthly income, it’s not just expensive. It’s debilitating. Building a professional portfolio without access to industry-standard tools becomes an uphill battle, locking many talented people out of the industry. It’s no longer just about buying a tool you need for your job—it’s about being willing to pay a perpetual tax on productivity. And as these companies phase out their perpetual licensing options, the possibility of ownership becomes ever more elusive.

The subscription model isn’t limited to software. Even the automotive industry has embraced this trend, with smart cars offering features that require monthly payments. In some vehicles, luxury options such as heated seats are no longer included as standard but are instead activated through ongoing subscriptions. It’s no longer enough to buy a car—you now have to subscribe to it.

Similarly, household devices such as smart doorbells, thermostats, and even refrigerators come with subscriptions that grant users access to advanced features. If the subscription is cancelled, so too is the functionality you’ve come to depend on. What started as a way to deliver continuous updates and services has evolved into a way to tether consumers indefinitely to corporations, forcing them to continually pay to maintain the same quality of life.
In the song The Fine Print by The Stupendium, there’s a haunting line: “We work to earn the right to work to earn the right to work to give ourselves the right to buy ourselves the right to live to earn the right to die.”

This lyric perfectly encapsulates the harsh reality of the subscription economy. At its core, the model converts our daily labour into the mere right to access basic services. The dream of freedom through financial security becomes more distant, as people find themselves locked into endless cycles of payments. We aren’t working to own things—we’re working to rent our lives from corporations. This shift in the economy has profound implications for purchasing power.

For most people, income hasn’t risen in tandem with the expanding number of subscriptions they need to maintain. When music, films, software, appliances, and even vehicles require ongoing payments, household budgets are stretched thin, and the idea of saving for long-term goals becomes even more challenging. As ownership recedes into the past, people are losing the security that comes with it.

The consequences of this shift toward subscriptions are not evenly distributed. In wealthy countries, people may begrudgingly accept the monthly drain from their accounts as the cost of convenience. But in poorer nations or regions with weak currencies, these fees create barriers to participation in the global economy. For creatives in Nigeria, South Africa, or Brazil, paying for Adobe Creative Cloud or Microsoft Office means dedicating a disproportionate amount of income toward essential tools. Without these tools, however, the opportunities to advance professionally shrink.

This growing gap contributes to a new kind of inequality—one defined not just by wealth but by access to the tools necessary to compete in a digital world. The freedom to innovate and express creatively is no longer available to all but is reserved for those who can afford the recurring costs. The subscription economy risks exacerbating global disparities, leaving entire populations behind.

What is perhaps most concerning is the precedent this trend sets for the future. If everything—our entertainment, productivity tools, cars, and even our appliances—becomes available only through subscriptions, will there be anything left to own? Or will ownership become the exclusive domain of the ultra-wealthy, with the rest of us consigned to rent our lives indefinitely?

The idea of perpetual payments forces us to rethink what freedom and autonomy mean in the digital age. How free can a person be when every aspect of their life requires continuous payment? Ownership offered a sense of stability—a feeling that once something was bought, it was yours, and no one could take it away. Subscriptions erode that sense of permanence, replacing it with a lingering uncertainty. Miss a payment, and what you depend on can vanish.

The proliferation of subscription models is one of the less-discussed downsides of the digital age. While there are undeniable benefits—access to vast libraries of content, continuous updates, and seamless integration—these come at a cost. The subscription economy shifts financial power away from individuals and places it firmly in the hands of corporations, eroding our ability to own and control what we use.

We need to ask ourselves: How much are we willing to rent before we realise that we no longer own anything? Are the conveniences worth the cost? And more importantly, what kind of world are we building when ownership is reserved for the privileged few, and everyone else must perpetually pay to access what they need to live and create?

The digital age promised us more freedom, but the subscription economy reveals a darker truth: we are working harder and paying more, not to own, but merely to exist in a world where access is the new currency. Perhaps it is time to resist this model and demand alternatives that restore ownership, autonomy, and a sense of financial security for all.

Elizabeth Chukwu is a corps member at Nigeria’s Institute for Peace and Conflict Resolution, Abuja. She writes via [email protected]