Affluenza: How to Be Successful and Stay Sane
by Oliver James
400pp, Vermillion, £17.99
In his 1997 book Britain on the Couch, Oliver James asserted that "advanced capitalism makes money out of misery and dissatisfaction, as if it were encouraging us to fill up the psychic void with material goods". In this book, he explores the idea further, and it's terrific. A lot of readers, wanting to put their finger on why the affluent world they live in makes them so uneasy, will want to cheer. Here he is saying, loud and clear, that capitalism is bad for your mental health. And then he tells us why this is the case, and what we can do about it.
"My focus," explains James, "is on why we are so fucked up, not with dangling a false promise of the possibility of happiness." He's right - he doesn't offer false promises. By the time you've finished this book, you, too, might be feeling pretty pessimistic. As if we weren't already - as James points out, almost a quarter of Britons suffer "emotional distress". "Cards on the table," he says, "I contend that most emotional distress is best understood as a rational response to sick societies."
So why are we, in James's words, so fucked up? It's because of what James calls Selfish Capitalism, or, more catchily, "Affluenza", a virus-like condition that spreads through affluent countries. In these countries, notably English-speaking ones, people define themselves by how much money they make. They are also ruled by superficial values - how attractive they look, how famous they are, how much they are able to show off. As the sociologist Erich Fromm would have put it, we have moved from a state of "being" to a state of "having". Now we are obsessed with what other people think of us, and we've lost touch with our own feelings.
How has this happened? James is very coherent on this matter. He explains the thesis behind Vance Packard's famous book on advertising, The Hidden Persuaders: in a society in which people all have what they need, the job of advertisers is to create false needs. Packard wrote his book in the 1950s, and what James is exploring is the fallout from 60 years of false needs. The fallout, of course, gets worse; each successive generation is more anxious and depressed. In the past, people wanted things because they were useful; later, they wanted them to enhance their status; and now they want them because they feel ugly and alone.
It's a wonderfully clear and cogent thesis. Affluenza, as defined by James, is clearly recognisable as our way of life. It spreads because it feeds on itself; when you try to make yourself feel better by buying a car, or bulking up in the gym, or spraying on a fake tan, or having a facelift, you actually make yourself feel worse, which makes you want to buy more things. As James points out, the virus has spread to television - "most programmes," he says, "are now barely concealed advertisements for classes of product" - and education. James sees modern education as "little better than a systematic method for spreading the virus".
He travels the world, interviewing rich, unhappy people. There is Sam, a New York billionaire who lives alone in a vast apartment. Sam was addicted to heroin, and now seems to be addicted to casual sex with young girls. He has, we are shown, pursued the goals of affluenza to their ultimate point. He can have anything he wants, but nothing satisfies him. James also meets the trophy wife of another fabulously rich man - she is addicted to shopping and cocaine, and he is often away from home. Their relationship is based on mutual contempt: she spends his money with vengeful spite; he pays her back with coldness and abuse.
James visits places in the grip of Affluenza, such as Australia and Singapore, and also places less affected. People are more depressed, he tells us, where inequality is greatest. So Denmark, with its high taxes, is hanging in there; Danes are less impressed by wealth and glamour than just about anyone else in the developed world. Heartbreakingly, he visits societies where the virus is taking hold, and shows us things that are about to die out. Russian women, he says, dress with individuality and a type of flair missing from the west, where they tend to follow the intricacies of fashion, and feel terrible about themselves. And people in Shanghai apparently feel less social anxiety, because, even though western values are sweeping the place, they still have their roots in an earlier era.
Well, he's convinced me. The antidote is simple: look inward, not outward. Don't be a sheep. Try to be "beautiful" rather than "attractive". Embrace the family. Don't see life as a competition. Don't watch too much TV. Simple, perhaps. But will it be enough? One of the scariest parts of the book is James's analysis of New Labour politicians. Have they been infected with the virus? Well, just think of Tony Blair and his property dealings, his flash holidays, his spray-on tan. Think of Peter Mandelson, who said: "We are seriously relaxed about people becoming very, very rich." Think of Prescott. Think of Cherie Blair ...
"Just as Aids is stalking the globe, so is the Affluenza virus," says James. I think he's right. So will you.
· William Leith's The Hungry Years: Confessions of a Food Addict is published by Bloomsbury
