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LONDON: A cheeky, toothy grin. Eyes full of mischief. Wrapped in a fuzzy rabbit suit. One look is enough to tell, Labubu is up to no good. But it’s just a harmless doll — right?

In recent weeks, the ugly-yet-cute collectible from Beijing-based Pop Mart has sparked a wave of online speculation.

Some social media users claim it could be possessed by a demon from ancient times, while others insist it moves on its own when no one is watching — like a plush Elf on the Shelf.

The panic began in late June when a series of TikTok and Instagram posts compared Labubu — which was created by Hong Kong illustrator Kasing Lung — to Pazuzu, a Mesopotamian demon made famous by cult horror classic “The Exorcist.”

One TikTok user, Lindsay Ivan, warned followers in a viral video that people were being “tricked” into thinking the trending toys were “so cute” when they were actually “buying something that’s very dark.”

Displaying a photo of Labubu next to an AI-generated image of Pazuzu, Ivan claimed the two shared a sinister connection.

In the same clip, Ivan presented a photo of a girl wearing a cross while holding a white Labubu. She alleged that some toy owners reported unusual experiences — including dolls that changed eye color and grew bigger smiles.

Instagram user Walter Daniels Jr. echoed the concern, sharing the viral Pazuzu image alongside photos of Labubu and a scene from “The Simpsons” that depicted a haunted figurine with glowing red eyes.

His caption read: “Do not buy this demonic toy for your children or yourself!”

The Labubu conspiracy theory took social media by storm. Some Labubu owners reportedly destroyed their dolls or listed them online as “possessed.” Others leaning into the hysteria went as far as to claim the Bible supported their fears.

But context tells a different story.

While “The Exorcist” portrayed Pazuzu as an evil entity, the demon was originally considered a protective figure in Mesopotamian religion. According to Encyclopedia Britannica, amulets bearing his image were worn to ward off evil — not to invite it.

So, is Labubu actually based on Pazuzu?

Pop Mart has not responded publicly to claims that the little monster is possessed, and media reports suggest that the controversy does not seem to have curbed the Labubu fever.

The toy’s manufacturer says creator Kasing Lung drew inspiration not from Mesopotamia but from European mythologies — particularly Nordic folklore and its forest creatures.

“Labubu was born in 2015,” the company’s website explains. “Kasing Lung created a fairy world in three picture books inspired by Nordic mythology and populated it with magical characters both good and evil, calling them ‘The Monsters.’

“Among them, the most prominent one was Labubu.”

Despite the devilish grin, Pop Mart describes Labubu as “kind-hearted,” a creature who “always wants to help, but often accidentally achieves the opposite.” Could this chaotic but well-meaning nature explain the unsettling stories from some owners?

Labubus, which retail for about $40, are sold in limited-edition “blind boxes,” meaning buyers do not know which model they will get until the box is opened. This gamble adds excitement — and sometimes obsession, experts say.

Although the toys have been around since 2019, they exploded in popularity in late 2024 and early 2025 after celebrities such as Blackpink’s Lisa, Dua Lipa, and Rihanna were spotted flaunting Labubus on their designer bags.

Several Middle Eastern countries have caught the Labubu fever, with the dolls becoming commercial hits amid ����ֱ��’s ecommerce boom — selling on platforms like Noon.com and Amazon.sa for SR99 ($26.40) to SR399 ($106).

“Labubu’s story blends elements of art, consumer psychology, and the power of social media,” said Rim Ajjour, a Beirut-based child and adolescent clinical psychologist.

Although Labubu might appear to be aimed at children, its primary audience is actually young adults aged 18 to 35,” Ajjour told Arab News. “For them, Labubu isn’t a toy but a statement — an expression of style, identity, imagination, and social standing.”

“Owning a Labubu,” she added, “signifies belonging to an ‘in-group’ and provides a sense of joy, playfulness, and social connection, despite their lack of practical utility.”

Indeed, the global demand for those quirky elves more than doubled Pop Mart’s revenue in 2024. The company revealed that profit from Labubu toys surged more than 1,200 percent in that year, accounting for about 22 percent of total revenue.

The psychology of desire, mystery and fear has worked in Pop Mart’s favor. Ajjour explained that blind box mechanics can trigger a dopamine rush similar to gambling, making the experience addictive.

The doll’s “quirky, unsettling design allows people to symbolically process complex emotions and assert control over discomfort,” she said. “Social media amplifies the craze, as influencers and celebrities promote the brand, creating a fear of missing out and a desire for social belonging.”

Yet, that same unsettling aesthetic may also be the source of fear.

Labubu’s exaggerated features place it firmly within what Ajjour calls the “uncanny valley” effect, which “describes a feeling of unease or revulsion that people experience when encountering human-like entities that are almost, but not quite, realistic.”

“The discomfort triggered by the ‘uncanny valley’ effect can heighten people’s sensitivity to eerie or unsettling traits, making them more prone to believe fear-driven narratives,” she said.

“In various cultures, objects with human-like characteristics are thought to hold spiritual energy or even serve as vessels for spirits, this belief system can easily contribute to the idea that the doll is more than just a toy.”

But Labubu is not the first misunderstood pop culture icon — or the first to spark a moral panic.

In the late 1990s, Furby — a fluffy, owl-like robot toy — was accused of spying on families, speaking in tongues, and harboring evil intent. Around the same time, Cabbage Patch Kids were dubbed “demon babies” in urban legends that linked them to occult practices.

The 1980s saw widespread backlash against Dungeons & Dragons, as religious groups and anxious parents claimed the fantasy tabletop game promoted witchcraft, Satanism, and suicide.

Even Pokemon, the wildly popular Japanese franchise, was not spared — with critics between late 1997 and the early 2000s accusing it of promoting the theory of evolution, gambling, and demonic symbolism.

The recurring moral panics over such popular culture icons raise questions about what drives them. Experts believe these panics often reflect broader societal anxieties rather than genuine concern over the toys themselves.

“It’s not really about fear of a toy, but instead a growing collective fear over the symbolic boundaries that guide everyday life during a period of societal flux,” Dr. Kent Bausman, professor of sociology at Maryville University, told Arab News.

“In sociological terms, what we are witnessing is the emergence of a common cultural script.”

He explained that panic over Labubu mirrors earlier reactions to teenage interests.

“The idea that a wide-eyed, sharp-toothed, furry figurine like Labubu might be connected to a demonic plot to steal our children is no different from the panic among American parents in the 1980s,” he said.

“Back then, they feared that their teenagers’ heavy metal music habits or Dungeons & Dragons board game play would lead to Satanic worship.”

Such moments, Bausman said, tend to emerge during periods of cultural change — whether political, religious, economic, or demographic — when uncertainty makes people cling more tightly to tradition and moral norms.

“What both of these periods have in common is that they reveal emerging or deeper cultural anxieties circulating across the population.

“The source of these anxieties is most often the concern over cultural change and its impact on the next generation, particularly as it applies to the continuance of cultural traditions.”

He added: “Conspiracy theories surrounding the Labubu dolls have seen their greatest traction spread through TikTok and Reddit in Russia and Iraq — two nation-states whose major institutions (economic and political systems) have undergone significant restructuring over the last three decades.”

From a psychological standpoint, Ajjour highlighted that these fears are intensified by social dynamics. The anxiety surrounding Labubu “is a multifaceted issue, shaped by psychological influences, cultural perceptions, and the amplifying effect of social media, all of which combine to cast a sense of fear and mistrust over what is, in reality, a harmless collectible,” she said.

Social media fuels this effect. “Mass hysteria and social media feedback loop where online rumors claiming the doll is ‘cursed’ or ‘haunted’ often gain traction through social media,” Ajjour said. “These shared fears are reinforced by others, creating a cycle of escalating anxiety.”

The power of suggestion also contributes to the phenomenon. “Belief that the doll holds dark powers can cause people to misinterpret everyday events as evidence of its evil nature,” she added.

Marketing strategies also play a role in magnifying the mystique. “Scarcity and hype create the illusion of limited availability,” Ajjour said, adding that blind box packaging, inflated resale prices, and eerie rumors “can lead people to project deeper meaning or mystique onto the doll.”
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