The global wellbeing market is now worth over $5.6 trillion a year. That’s more than many countries’ entire economies. We spend this money believing it will make us healthier, happier, and more fulfilled.

But a simple question sits underneath all of this spending:

Are we investing in what actually helps people thrive — or are we mostly paying for basic needs with a “wellness” label attached?

This article looks at what people are really buying when they buy “wellbeing”, using a simple lens: Maslow’s hierarchy of needs — from basic physical needs at the bottom, to personal growth and fulfilment at the top 

Wellbeing Market vs Maslow’s Hi…


Where the Money Actually Goes

When you strip away the language and look at the numbers, a clear pattern appears.

Most wellbeing spending goes into areas like:

  • Food and nutrition

  • Fitness and physical activity

  • Beauty and personal care

  • Preventive health and medical services

  • Housing and healthy environments

These are important. They keep us functioning. But they sit firmly at the lower levels of human need — physical health, safety, comfort, and appearance.

When the global wellbeing market is mapped to Maslow’s hierarchy:

  • Around 65–70% of spending targets basic physiological and safety needs

  • Roughly 25–30% sits in the middle — belonging, status, confidence, lifestyle experiences

  • Only about 3–5% is clearly aimed at deeper psychological growth, meaning, or fulfilment

In other words, for every pound spent on inner growth or mental flourishing, dozens are spent on protein powders, skincare, gyms, supplements, and wellness travel.


The Gap Between Aspiration and Reality

Wellbeing marketing talks a lot about:

  • “Finding your best self”

  • “Living with purpose”

  • “Thriving, not just surviving”

But the spending tells a different story.

Most of the money flows to maintenance, not transformation. To staying functional, presentable, and productive — not to developing self-understanding, emotional maturity, or a sense of meaning.

Even categories that sound like “higher wellbeing” often fall short:

  • The mental wellness market is relatively small compared to nutrition or beauty

  • Only a small fraction of mental health and wellbeing apps are backed by solid scientific evidence

  • Many supplements, self-help products, and lifestyle tools are sold without proof they improve long-term wellbeing

This doesn’t mean these products are useless — but it does mean their impact is often overstated.


When Wellbeing Becomes Consumerism

A large part of the wellbeing economy is best described as consumerism with a moral gloss.

Basic needs are repackaged as self-care.
Comfort is reframed as fulfilment.
Indulgence is sold as growth.

There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a spa, a retreat, or a new fitness gadget. The problem is confusing spending with progress.

The evidence shows that:

  • More wellness spending does not reliably translate into better population health

  • Countries with the highest wellness consumption don’t necessarily have better wellbeing outcomes

  • Many people abandon wellness products once they realise the benefits don’t match the promises

This creates a cycle where dissatisfaction fuels more consumption — without addressing the underlying causes.


So What Actually Improves Wellbeing?

The uncomfortable conclusion is this:

The things most likely to improve long-term wellbeing are often the least commercial.

They include:

  • Strong relationships and social connection

  • Meaningful work and autonomy

  • Physical activity and sleep (not products, but habits)

  • Psychological skills like emotional regulation and reflection

  • A sense of direction shaped by values, not consumption

These are harder to package, scale, and sell — which is precisely why they occupy such a small share of the market.


What This Means

For individuals

Be sceptical of big promises. Ask what need a product is actually meeting. Many of the biggest wellbeing gains come from behaviours and environments, not purchases.

For organisations

Wellbeing initiatives that focus on surfaces — apps, perks, programmes — often miss the point. Structure, workload, trust, and clarity matter more than tools.

For the wellbeing industry

There is a clear gap between what is sold and what works. The future belongs to approaches that can demonstrate real outcomes, not just attractive narratives.


The Bottom Line

We are not short of wellbeing spending.
We are short of effective investment in the things that help people flourish.

Most of the global wellbeing market is still focused on keeping us running — not helping us grow.

Until that changes, we’ll keep buying wellbeing while quietly wondering why it doesn’t quite deliver.

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