| OLIVER JAMES, the clinical-child-psychologist turned broadcaster, writer, and TV presenter, has a theory. Two kinds of capitalism emerged since the late ’70s, he believes: selfish, and unselfish.
The selfish variety, as expounded by Thatcher and Reagan, was adopted by the English-speaking nations. (The more fettered, “unselfish” version developed on mainland Western Europe.) And now, research recently published by the World Health Organisation into national well-being suggests that English-speaking nations live in emotional poverty, compared to everyone else.
Selfish capitalism has placed too high a value on money and possessions, says Mr James. We have become a society of materialists in which few feel satisfied with what they have, or fulfilled through who they are. Instead, we compare ourselves relentlessly with each other and continually find ourselves wanting. “It’s called ‘maladapted social comparison’,” he explains, “and it does your head in.”
It is also more popularly known as “affluenza”, thanks to James’s best-selling book of that name from last year. His sequel, The Selfish Capitalist, was published last month. Gordon Brown is said to have read it.
Although possessions, money, and beauty are essentially neutral, he believes, society’s emotional dis-ease — which manifests itself through depression, substance abuse, and impulse disorder — stems from wanting more and more. This is “relative materialism”. And relative materialism “is wholly destructive”.
Why does Mr James believe society became so susceptible to the affluenza virus? “Because we like highly calorific, rich foods; because men like looking at women’s bodies and owning fast cars; because women can be seduced into thinking that the only thing that matters is what they look like. Although humans aren’t the same as other animals, we’re animals none the less,” he says.
It is a gloomy diagnosis. He suggests that a “co-operation” (he first says “conspiracy”, but corrects himself) between advertisers, big businesses, and “the ruling élite” deliberately exploits our basic survival urge, so that, even when we have enough to stop and appreciate life, we still think we should keep breathless pace with the Joneses.
But are we not bigger and better than that, as humans? “This is surely what the Bible is all about, is it not? We’re talking about Adam and Eve, good and evil.” He brought it up, not me.
“Tolstoy, in The Resurrection, beautifully itemises the way in which human beings can be tempted by the ultimate in satanic ways of social esteem, of wanting to feel that they are successful in relation to their fellow man, and that those comparisons can be manipulated in such as way as to become central to one’s whole purpose.”
The point of writing The Selfish Capitalist, he says, was to provide some robust scientific evidence for the affluenza thesis. “It is to say: here are some very hard-edge things that have been going on, that are well-measured, and are the cause of our depleted, materialistic, spiritually bankrupt, ethically non-existent, hopelessly amoral, individual, and collective lives. This is selfish capitalism.
“I agree with those who say that human beings share a spiritual dimension which is constantly wrestling with the brute tendencies of all societies in history,” he continues. “Why would we be so crazy as to pursue the material and the venal at the expense of the spiritual and the beautiful, at the expense of the personal and the intimate, and all those things that are so much more likely to lead to fulfilment and happiness?”
Mr James uses the words “intrinsic” and “extrinsic” to describe our motivations and goals in life. It is a helpful distinction, and perhaps one that can join the spiritual and scientific dots more effectively. “People who have intrinsic motivation have an appreciation of beauty, of the environment, not in terms of ecology, but of the beauty of the birds and the fields and the sky.”
Madeleine Bunting recently described Mr James in The Guardian as a “modern-day missionary, fired with the desire to relieve the growing emotional suffering in rich countries.” He certainly hopes that as many people as possible will read his work, but he is clear that any “movement” needs to come from the top down as well as from the bottom up. The Government is key to creating “limits and structures that make it hard for business to ruin lives, and maximise well-being rather than profit.”
Meanwhile, the culture helps to determine what is acceptable social behaviour. Take Denmark. (He likes mentioning Denmark.) “The Danes aren’t perfect; in fact, they’re pretty boring. But anybody who buys a Ferrari is a social pariah. Showing off through conspicuous consumption is deeply frowned upon. So that’s a major bulwark against American consumerism, and it wouldn’t harm us to have a bit of that.”
Mr James believes that people are now becoming “sick to the back teeth” of selfish capitalism, and almost inevitably it will run its course. But, he suggests, it will take generations to put right.
“It’s not going to happen overnight, because we have a generation of young people who believe that watching Big Brother, seeking fame, watching porn on the internet, and chasing money is the whole point of life.”
Back he returns to the spirit. “Luckily, they do also have a spiritual side to them, another side to which we can appeal. If we keep pointing out the painful consequences, I’m sure it’ll right itself, eventually.”
In the mean time, could we also appeal to the spiritual side of business people? Instead of being part of the problem, could business not become part of the solution? Mr James is not entirely convinced.
The only way to change the propagators of selfish capitalism, he believes, is by forcing them to behave differently through legislation and by appealing to their ego. “Most of the leading business people that I know are incredibly superficial and are very influenced by the public and by what’s acceptable. They are incredibly vulnerable and want to be liked.”
This does not, however, mean that there are no examples of unselfish capitalists in business. “I have a friend who runs a packaging company. His primary interest is to keep 30 or so people in well-paid jobs that won’t wreck their lives. He’s quite rich, but that’s not his primary motivation. People like this don’t need telling, and they don’t need legislation. The problem is that the vast majority are not like him.”
Mr James reckons that, although most people in English-speaking nations are “riddled with affluenza”, about ten per cent are not. He calls these people “conspicuous exceptions”, and believes that their influence is positively, almost mysteriously, disproportionate.
“I was startled, when I travelled the world to research affluenza, to find that the healthy exceptions either had very good childhoods or had suffered some extraordinary adversity, which led them to question everything.
“And then either religion, or therapy — or some kind of spiritual practice combined with therapy — had enabled them to completely see through the whole thing.”
Mr James admits that he had not been expecting a spiritual common denominator among those exceptions. “I was really surprised, again and again, to find that spirituality, while not being the only thing, was a significant component,” he says.
“Most needed to be part of a community of people who acknowledge the existence of the spiritual realm, and who want to share moments of silence or musical celebration; they want that sense of communal experience.”
He feels the Church has a significant part to play, despite the fact that it, too, has not emerged unscathed from the virus. “It gets panic-stricken about the number of people who come along, about its decline, and about the way its role is challenged by people like Dawkins and by modern materialism. But I’d say there is a very subtle — yet very profound — sense that the Church underpins everything. It’s not all about bums on seats.”
He suggests that people who go to church — as well as those who do not, but who are “spiritual and ethical” — “quietly infect everybody else.” At this point, he seems strangely warmed. “That’s what really interests me; the idea that a small number of people in a community can keep everyone else sane. It only takes a few people who embody a good way to be.”
Take Ann, he suggests, a friend of his. “You’ve only got to come into contact with her for about two minutes. The way she makes judgements and evaluates things will reset your clock a little bit in the right way.”
It seems reminiscent of Jesus’s metaphors of salt and light. Does Mr James agree? “I believe that, and I don’t think it’s just wishful thinking,” he says. “When Ann goes to the shops, she will have an exchange with the checkout girl which subtly changes the way she performs in her life for the rest of that day.”
Mr James also agrees that the Bible contains wisdom for life that we are only beginning to rediscover through social science. “Yes, it’s all there — basic verities that aren’t going to go away. There’s that bit in the liturgy that we all say together: ‘I have done those things I ought not to have done, and I have not done those things that I ought to have done’ — what is it called? That passage has most of the things you need to know about life within it. So does the Lord’s Prayer.”
The real winners in life, he suggests, “are those people who don’t worry about winning and losing”. Many are middle-aged women, he adds. “People who seem to see through the nonsense of modern life, and who have a good sense of self without being self-focused or narcissistic.
“They lead by example — being playful, not game-playing; authentic and sincere; vivacious, rather than hyperactive.”
He believes that there is hope from those thousands of children being born every day. “We have to impart to our children that we live in a mad world. But I have a very positive optimistic view that the human spirit will prevail. And when I look at my six-year-old and my three-year-old, I am renewed.”
Affluenza (Vermilion; £8.99 (£8.10); 978-0-0919-0011-3); The Selfish Capitalist (Vermilion; £14.99; 978-0-0919-2381-5)
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