The Age-Old Instinct: Why We Panic Buy and How to Break the Cycle
The sight of empty shelves, once synonymous with the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic and the frantic search for toilet paper, is a phenomenon with a surprisingly long history. In fact, a television presenter quipped about disappearing loo roll over 50 years ago, during the 1973 energy crisis triggered by the Yom Kippur War. That seemingly innocent joke, aired by US host Johnny Carson, sparked a wave of panic buying that ironically created the very shortages it predicted. At the time, it was described as “a rumour run wild in a nation that has recently become geared to expect shortages in items considered absolute necessities.”
This instinct to stockpile in times of perceived crisis isn’t new. The oil shocks of the 1970s saw consumers in countries like Australia, the UK, the US, and France not only hoarding petrol but also goods like canning lids and gold, all in reaction to reported – and sometimes manufactured – shortages. Even a decade prior, during the tense 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, American families were stocking their basements with canned goods and bottled water, anticipating the possibility of nuclear war.
From the World Wars to the recent scramble for food, medicine, and hand sanitiser during COVID-19, panic buying in the face of crisis or natural disaster is a well-documented human behaviour. Researchers point to a complex interplay of psychological factors and circumstantial pressures that drive people to amass supplies when they perceive scarcity. The most insidious aspect? When that feared scarcity is unfounded, panic buying can become a self-fulfilling prophecy, creating the very shortages it aims to prevent.
The Scarcity Heuristic: Why “Low Supply” Becomes “High Demand”
Recent weeks have seen a resurgence of fuel panic buying across numerous countries. Reports of petrol stations running dry and lengthy queues of vehicles snaking around service stations have become a familiar, unsettling sight. In Australia, fuel prices have surged by approximately 40% since the beginning of the current geopolitical conflict, with Iran’s actions impacting global oil supply and pushing crude oil prices well above US$100 a barrel.
This heightened concern is understandable, but the psychology behind our reaction is also at play. As Melissa Norberg, a psychology professor at Macquarie University, explains, “When things are perceived to be in low supply… they become more valuable psychologically.” This is known as the “scarcity heuristic,” a powerful psychological trigger often exploited in marketing. Think of e-commerce websites flashing messages like “only one left!” – designed to nudge us towards an impulse purchase.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, even official advice could inadvertently fuel this behaviour. Victoria’s Chief Health Officer, Dr. Brett Sutton, advised residents to consider stocking up on a fortnight’s worth of non-perishables, which led to temporary shortages of pantry staples like pasta.
In the case of fuel, the rising prices are not just an objective indicator of reduced supply; they also amplify the psychological demand. “Which then also makes it more psychologically [in demand],” Norberg notes.
The Roots of Panic: Distress, Social Norms, and Perceived Risk
Beyond the scarcity heuristic, an inability to tolerate distress can be a significant driver of panic buying. “If thinking that you might not have petrol puts you into distress, or you fear that it might not be there in the future and you don’t like to deal with uncertainty… that can drive people to stockpile,” Norberg elaborates.
Interestingly, those engaging in panic buying often don’t see themselves as selfish. Research from 2021 suggests a disconnect between how individuals perceive their actions and how others might view their behaviour, particularly when it appears to prioritise personal needs over the community.
Dr. Karina Rune, a researcher in health and behavioural sciences at the University of the Sunshine Coast, identifies perceived risk and social norms as primary drivers. Her research into lockdown behaviour characterised panic buying as “a short-lived coping response to situational stress and social contagion.” Studies examining consumer behaviour across 54 countries during the pandemic found that lockdown announcements triggered bursts of panic buying that typically lasted between one and two weeks.
While Rune’s research didn’t find demographic factors like socioeconomic status to be significant drivers, other studies have indicated that household income and size might play a role.
Rune identified three key factors contributing to stockpiling behaviour:
- Attitude: The belief that stockpiling is a “smart” or “sensible” thing to do.
- Perceived Risk: The conviction that “if I don’t buy extra, I might run out and that will put myself and my family at risk.”
- Negative Social Norms: This is often amplified by media coverage. “The media was alight with pictures of people standing in queues, and trolleys full of toilet paper, and the message that was being sent is: this is what everyone else is doing, everyone is panic buying,” Rune explains. “I think we see it a little bit today as well with… [reports highlighting] cars lining up and people fighting over petrol.”
Professor Liam Smith, director of BehaviourWorks Australia at Monash University, cautions that focusing on the minority engaging in panic buying can inadvertently encourage the behaviour by reinforcing negative “descriptive norms” – our perceptions of what others are doing. He uses the example of energy saving, stating that if people learn their neighbours are saving more energy, they are likely to increase their own efforts.
Politicians urging the public not to buy more than they need risk the opposite effect, according to Smith. “What you’re saying is: most people are stockpiling. Appeals like that are not the best form of communication.”
Breaking the Cycle: What Actually Works to Reduce Panic Buying?
The key to mitigating panic buying lies in shifting the narrative and fostering a sense of collective responsibility. “We want to reiterate that most people… are actually buying only what they need,” Rune advises.
Shaming or labelling panic buyers as “selfish” is ineffective, Rune argues, because it doesn’t reassure individuals. Instead, the focus should be on reminding people of their interconnectedness: “if we all buy more, it’s going to have an impact on more vulnerable populations.”
Norberg echoes this sentiment, suggesting a focus on the essential needs of others, particularly those in vital service industries. “If you value generosity and equality and not being selfish, then try to uphold those values even when you’re feeling distress,” she recommends. “Don’t just act because you feel anxious.”
Norberg acknowledges that periods of scarcity can fundamentally alter our lives, much like the pandemic did. However, she points to the resilience shown during those times: “When Covid happened and there were restrictions… it wasn’t fun, but we all were doing it. We learned ways to cope.” By understanding the psychological drivers behind panic buying and focusing on collective well-being and rational coping mechanisms, we can hopefully navigate future periods of perceived scarcity with greater resilience and less self-inflicted disruption.
