Many regards minimalism to be a backlash wave, a ‘first world’ solution to modern consumerism, considering that some parts of the world still live way below the poverty line and can’t access the goods that we reject consciously. Meanwhile, in regions like MENA (the Middle East and North Africa), resources are scarce, and the conversation takes on a whole different tone.
Moreover, according to the latest 2025 data from World Bank, around 808 million people worldwide live in “extreme poverty,” defined under the new international poverty line of $3.00 a day.
However, this is precisely the reason the Western world has embraced minimalism. It is mature enough to realize that the link between possession and happiness is lost once we cross the poverty line and ensure all our basic needs are met. Food, shelter, utilities, etc. In regions confronting water shortage and high energy demand, minimalism is increasingly framed not as an aesthetic but as a sustainability strategy.
Objects don’t fulfill us. Unfortunately, that has been well established by people suffering from hoarding disorder. But there’s another side to the coin. Can minimalism meant to sustain actually harm psychological or environmental well-being?
Less Isn’t More? Enter, Overminimalism
Minimalism in its healthy form can indeed calm an overstimulated nervous system. Get control in a world where so little is controlled.
But minimalism can also become something else entirely: an attempt to fill, mask, or control an emotional void. And when sustainability messages are reduced to “own nothing,” they risk becoming disconnected from cultural realities in places where resource efficiency is the true goal.
At its core, the question is not HOW MUCH a person owns but WHY they feel compelled to own so little. In other words, ‘too much of a good thing’…
The Emotional Void Behind the Aesthetic
From a psychological perspective, extreme minimalism may serve as a defensive strategy. You’re lucky if you’ve never anger-cleansed your space.
Many of us describe a sense of “peace” in empty rooms, but sometimes that peace is the silence of suppressed emotions. And in the context of environmental behavior, this can create a misleading impression that sustainability equals deprivation, rather than mindful use of resources.
People experiencing chronic loneliness, childhood emotional neglect, attachment disruptions, or trauma often develop what psychologists call deactivating strategies, i.e., attempts to minimize emotional stimulation to avoid discomfort. It can take both sides of the behavioural spectrum and lead to extreme minimalism or hoarding.
When “Less” Becomes Control
Research shows that individuals with low tolerance of uncertainty often tightly regulate their physical environments to compensate for internal chaos. In sustainability terms, this can lead to rigid “rules” rather than adaptable, community-focused habits, i.e., the opposite of long-term ecological resilience.
Aesthetic ≠ Identity. Quit Performing
The overlap between rigid minimalism and perfectionistic coping is well supported in clinical literature. Perfectionism is rarely about wanting things to be perfect; it is about avoiding feelings of shame, inadequacy, and exposure. It is inherently self-punishing. Hence, the rise in online performance and worldwide use of online editor apps.
This mirrors the cultural tension between idealized ‘aesthetic minimalism’ and practical sustainability efforts that prioritize durability, repair, and resource efficiency instead of sterile perfection.
When minimalism fills an emotional void rather than resolving it, it stops being a lifestyle and becomes a symptom. And like any symptom, it calls not for stricter rules or emptier rooms, but for deeper understanding.
