Better Angels, These Days

I often listen to the radio in my car, as I shuttle back and forth every day between home and workplace – there’s often something interesting to listen to. Much of it is ephemera – it might remain on BBC’s iPlayer, for instance, for a few days but then will be gone for ever. Occasionally, however, I’ll make an effort to find it later on the internet, make an audio recording of it before it vanishes, and then perhaps write up a transcript. This is what I did after hearing a brief interview with psychologist Steven Pinker on the BBC’s PM programme last week – you can read the transcript here.

The Better Angels of Our Nature is a book I’m now intending to read. Steven Pinker’s argument (that the long-term trend is of a reduction in human violence) seems to fit in, generally, with lines of thought expressed by some others, such as Daniel Ben Ami in Ferraris for All and Matt Ridley in The Rational Optimist – he is saying that despite the fact that there are places in the world where violent incidents are happening, there are many more places where such events are not happening, and that the overall incidence of violence is going down. This may be cold comfort for residents of the Syrian city of Homs, for example, in recent months, but of course there are vast expanses of the Earth where violence on that scale is not occurring and where peace largely reigns, unreported by the media.

We have become used to the idea that the world is heading for hell in a handbasket and that as humanity becomes more numerous the dangers of ecological collapse and societal breakdown loom ever closer. So it seems odd to learn that the world is actually becoming more peaceful. Just as people experience storms and floods, and look back to a mythical time of climate stability and “normal” weather, we also watch explosions and shootings on the TV news, and hark back to a slower, gentler, more peaceful era in human history – that never really was.

The Sleep of Reason

The Northern Hemisphere continues its journey towards winter and the year’s end. Today is Halloween, and the clocks have just gone back an hour here in Britain, heralding slightly brighter mornings than of late, but also deeper, darker evenings.

However, I rather like the cold days and dark evenings, as I’m of a slightly antisocial disposition, and it keeps people generally in their boxes, indoors with the windows shut. There’s less noise – apart from the infernal fireworks of course. But after next weekend, they too will begin to fall silent, thank goodness, giving way to some blessed peace, quiet, darkness and silence.

Now I’ve said all that, back to climate matters. No, not my “100 Years of Climate Change” series, which has sadly fallen by the wayside and will have to be salvaged in one or more catch-up posts before the end of the year (if I bother). This is about the psychology of climate change.

Something I’ve noticed over the last year or so especially is that just as public opinion has started to go against the great war on carbon dioxide, legions of psychologists have been drafted in to turn back the tide and get us all on message again. That may not be strictly correct, on second thoughts, as they seem to be volunteering themselves rather than being actively recruited.

Here’s an example of the sort of thing I’m writing about – a conference called “Engaging with Climate Change: Psychoanalytic Perspectives” that was held at the Institute of Psychoanalysis in London on the weekend of 16th and 17th October. It is described thus:

“How does our knowledge of climate change affect our sense of identity? What might underlie issues of connection with, and disconnection from, the natural world? How do we understand the denial of climate change?

Speakers from the field of psychoanalysis explored these and other questions with scientists, environmentalists, writers, educationalists and policy makers. The conference aimed to achieve a better understanding through interdisciplinary exchange.”

Talks included “Great Expectations: some psychic consequences of the discovery of personal ecological debt”, “Unconscious obstacles to caring for the planet” and “Climate change denial in a perverse culture”. Speakers included Dr Rosemary Randall, who writes and lectures on psychological approaches to the problem of climate change, Dr Renee Lertzman, who is concerned with the relations of psychoanalytic research and theory with contemporary environmental crises, and Mrs Sally Weintrobe, whose most most recent paper was on “runaway greed and climate change denial.”

(I recognise myself totally in that last bit, as I pig out on Halloween chocolates – no trick-or-treaters this year, what a shame – and scoff at catastrophic global warming. Runaway greed and climate change denial – c’est moi!)

Andrew C Revkin of the New York Times blogged about it last Thursday, and posted a report about the event from attendee Dr Lertzman, who explains her concept of the “myth of apathy”, which as far as I can make out, explores the idea that while people generally appear not to care about climate change, they actually do, but are finding it difficult to express that care, as it is involves facing up to scary feelings of loss.

Anyway, you can read the rest of it here, and highly fascinating it is too. My theory about this matter is a lot simpler than Dr Lertzman’s as it involves the recognition that most people actually do not care about climate change. They care about the environment, which is a different thing entirely – clean air, clean water, conserving nature, preventing pandas and tigers from going extinct. But after having been told for so long that sea levels are rising dangerously and we could all be under water before too long, it cannot have escaped many people’s attention that when they visit Victorian seaside resorts, they can find local features that were just above high tide 150 years ago and which are still just above high tide now. Or that there are plenty of other signs that climate change catastrophe is stubbornly persisting in its failure to materialise.

Here’s a comment I left on the Dot Earth blog:

“This is highly interesting, but what I really want to know is why there has not, to my knowledge, been much (or any?) psychological research into the elements of guilt, angst, aggression and self-loathing that have been, to some extent, part and parcel of Western environmentalism from the days of Paul Ehrlich’s gloomy predictions of overpopulation and resource depletion in the 1970s through to the catastrophic global warming scare that seems to have peaked in the last 3 or 4 years, and through to the next great alarm (the signs are that it could well be biodiversity.) It would indeed appear to be a fertile ground for researchers and I’m curious as to whether any work has been done in this area.

If psychologists are generally avoiding that subject and instead casting the spotlight of their attention on the topics covered above (loss, mourning, denial, resistance to change, etc.) while accepting without question as “givens” the reality of impending catastrophe, the mental illness – for that is what they are discussing – of the majority of us who are unconvinced that there is an impending catastrophe, and the need to make us compliant, that is highly interesting too.

And if it there was some actual investigation into the matter and it turned out – as I believe is the case – that we, the unconvinced majority, are in fact not unconsciously terrified, in denial of our anxieties, etc., but are on the whole mentally healthy, robust, rational, optimistic and generally confident, what then for the environmental movement? Also – what then for the politicians and bureaucrats whose careers have thrived in this climate of fear and for the mental health professionals they have enlisted to bring us into line?”

For this is what intrigues me. Why are psychologists apparently not interested in the sort of end-times, doomsday terrors of the catastrophic climate change proponents, Malthusians, Peak-Oilers and similar scare merchants? Why are they, almost as one, turning their attention on us, the unconvinced majority, with a view to getting us to support drastic CO2 mitigation policies, not through our taxes and energy bills (we’re already doing that) but with our thoughts and feelings? Why exactly is this so important to them?

I don’t have a ready answer, but hope to explore this subject in many blogs to come.

I’ll leave you with a seasonal message from Dr Steven Moffic, a psychiatrist at the Medical College of Wisconsin (watch – if you dare! – the entire video here.)

“… instead of using psychiatric techniques to reduce excessive anxiety, shame and guilt, for global warming these emotions will need to be increased in the unconcerned. This kind of help runs counter to our usual goal of not making people feel worse. But remember that at times we need to make our patients more anxious or guilty, when we want them to be more compliant.”

Happy Halloween!

Toxic TV Fairytale – Part II

I’ve just e-mailed this addition to my earlier written complaint to the ASA about the dreadful, manipulative TV advert Bedtime Stories. I’m not sure if it will have any effect now – for all I know, a decision has already been made as to whether or not to uphold complaints against this ad. But I think I’ve probably done my best, in the circumstances.

Dear Sir/Madam,

As an addition to my letter of complaint, I would like to provide the following material, which I consider to be helpful in backing up my assertion that the Bedtime Stories advert could be emotionally harmful to very young children. Normally I would have sent this by post, but am e-mailing this instead, due to the erratic quality of postal services at the moment.

1) My first reference is to a web page maintained by the National Mental Health Information Center of the US Department of Health and Human Services – Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA.)

PSYCHOSOCIAL ISSUES FOR CHILDREN AND FAMILIES IN DISASTERS:
A Guide For The Primary Care Physician

On this page is a table (Table 5) showing various points to consider when understanding the comprehension of death in children and adolescents. I believe this is relevant, as people and pets such as dogs can and do lose their lives in natural disasters such as floods, and a dog drowning in a flood is depicted in the Bedtime Stories advert.

In this table, developmental considerations for preschool children include the terms “magical thinking”, “egocentric” and “no concept of time.” My interpretations of these are as follows:

“Magical thinking” would be the erroneous connection between thoughts such as “I didn’t switch off the light”, or “Daddy left the lights on” and either recollections such as “There was a flood (and I must have caused it)” or anticipations such as “There will be a flood (and it will be my fault).”

“Egocentric” is self-evident; it appears very possible for preschool children to imagine that what is happening to them is happening to everyone, or that their actions or private thoughts and feelings have a direct and magical effect on the rest of the world.

“No concept of time” again is self-evident. Preschool children do not have a realistic notion of long periods of time such as decades or centuries. The idea that the energy generated to provide power for electric lights also generates CO2, and that the UK’s man-made CO2 emissions (about 2% or less of the world total) would contribute (according to the controversial theory of anthropogenic global warming) to the increased likelihood of floods in unspecified locations and in future decades, would be more or less incomprehensible to preschool children. In the advert, they see the catastrophic consequences of not switching off a light occurring immediately and nearby, perhaps the very next day in their own neighbourhood.

2) My second reference comprises quotations from a 2005 article from the US-based News-Medical.Net, which recommended that parents limited television viewing of the Katrina disaster for children under 12 years of age.

THE MEDICAL NEWS: from News-Medical.Net – Latest Medical News and Research from Around the World

“Although they were not directly involved with the tragedy, repeated television viewing of the disaster puts these children at high risk for developing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), anxiety and depression.”

“Research on the impact of the World Trade Center attack indicates that children who viewed more television news of the attack were two times as likely to develop symptoms of PTSD than children with lower TV exposure,” said Harold S. Koplewicz, M.D., Director of the NYU Child Study Center. “Our job as parents is to protect our kids from unnecessary media coverage of this event. Good parents will stop the television.”

3) My third reference is from the University of Michigan Health System website
This lists the following ways that TV can scare or traumatize children.

“Children can come to view the world as a mean and scary place when they take violence and other disturbing themes on TV to be accurate in real life.”

“Symptoms of being frightened or upset by TV stories can include bad dreams, anxious feelings, being afraid of being alone, withdrawing from friends, and missing school.
Fears caused by TV can cause sleep problems in children.
Scary-looking things like grotesque monsters especially frighten children aged two to seven. Telling them that the images aren’t real does not help because kids under age eight can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality.
Many children exposed to scary movies regret that they watched because of the intensity of their fright reactions.
Children ages 8-12 years who view violence are often frightened that they may be a victim of violence or a natural disaster.”

4) My fourth reference is from Pediatrics – the official journal of the American Academy of Pediatrics
Published online August 31, 2005

CLINICAL REPORT

Psychosocial Implications of Disaster or Terrorism on Children: A Guide for the Pediatrician
Joseph F. Hagan, Jr, MD and the Committee on Psychosocial Aspects of Child and Family Health and the Task Force on Terrorism

I have excerpted three paragraphs from this report (below) which I consider to be particularly relevant:

“Traumatic and disrupting events can have adverse effects even on children who are too young to verbalize their distress. Although infants and toddlers may have no cognitive comprehension of a disaster, the destruction of routine and loss of loved ones can lead to regression and detachment. In the first year of life, such experiences can manifest as increased crying and irritability, separation anxiety, and an exaggerated startle response. Toddlers and preschool-aged children are likely to experience sleep terrors and nightmares and exhibit behavioral and skill regression manifesting as helplessness, clinging behavior, and increased temper tantrums.”

“School-aged children often demonstrate the experience of trauma through play, expressing trauma-related themes and aggressive behavior. Similar to their younger counterparts, sleep disturbances and regressive behaviors such as separation anxiety are often seen. School-aged children also may become withdrawn or apathetic or exhibit somatization and behavioral problems. Although fear was the most common primary reaction to the events of September 11th among school-aged children, the developmental diversity of this age
group leads to a wide range of responses to such trauma.”

“Children remote from catastrophic events by both location and experience are not immune to the acute and chronic psychopathologies related to disaster. Several studies have implicated indirect television exposure to disaster as a risk factor for children’s reactivity. The amount of information that a child will find valuable in understanding a disaster largely depends on a child’s developmental stage. Parents and caregivers should be aware that gruesome and disturbing details are likely unnecessary in facilitating a child’s comprehension of a tragedy. Such information has a great potential to engender fear and may be psychologically injurious and thus impede a child’s psychosocial recovery. In addition, the subjective response of a child to disaster has been demonstrated to have a high predictive value for symptoms of PTSD.”

Due to the very short time frame, I have not had the time or opportunity to access the primary sources, i.e., scientific studies and books, cited in these web pages. I am confident that were I able to have full access to these primary sources, I would be able to build an extremely robust case against the Bedtime Stories advert. However, even with the limited material I have been able to find on the internet, I am confident that I have been able to demonstrate convincingly some the factors by which the Bedtime Stories advert could be injurious to the emotional health of small children, and to summarise, I have listed some of these factors below.

1) The prevalence of “magical thinking” among very small children (“I didn’t switch off the light, so there will be a flood.”)
2) The natural egocentricity of very small children (“My thoughts and actions have a direct and powerful impact on everything around me.”)
3) The lack of a clear concept of time among very small children (“By not switching off the light, I could cause a flood tomorrow.”)
4) The fact that frightening TV stories can, in general, lead to bad dreams, anxiety, withdrawal from friends and sleep disorders in children.
5) The fact that scary images (such as a giant black CO2 sky monster, or pets drowning in a flood) may upset children between two and seven years especially, because they cannot differentiate between fiction and reality.
6) The fact that there is strong evidence to suggest that repeated TV viewing of disasters can lead to PTSD, anxiety and depression in children.

I believe that I have put forward a case strong enough to persuade the ASA to at least investigate this appalling advert, and I hope that there is enough of a case for the advert to be withdrawn as soon as possible. I think that children and parents in 21st century Britain have enough on their plates without the Halloween spectre of CO2 emissions, however illusory this threat may ultimately prove to be, hanging over them as well.

Yours sincerely,

Alex Cull

The Fear of Death

“The fear of death”. How often do we hear this phrase? Why is it that we fear death so much, and how does this fear manifest itself?

Two distinct kinds of fear spring to mind, one related to our animal origins and the other a human fear that is bound up with the very nature of consciousness. I will briefly explore both.

First, our animal heritage. When a cat or a mouse or a human are faced with an impending threat to life and limb, a number of specific physical reactions kick in.

Adrenaline floods through the body, causing the heart rate to speed up like crazy. Simultaneously the bronchial passages dilate and the lungs draw in larger volumes of air, all the better to grab more oxygen. The result? A rush of oxygenated, glucose-rich blood thundering through the arteries, on its way to the skeletal muscles, which is where it will be needed if we want to take immediate action. Some blood vessels constrict, others dilate, in order to channel resources efficiently.

What else happens? The senses become extremely selective and we experience tunnel vision and auditory exclusion (tunnel hearing). Weird things also happen to our sense of time passing (the technical word for this distortion is tachipsychia). At the same time, other processes, such as digestion, salivation and sex are placed on hold.

When these changes happen, we are driven to do one of two things – fight or run for our lives, hence the name of this response, “fight or flight”, first identified by physiologist Walter Cannon in 1915. Depending on the situation, it can propel us down to the very depths of panic or up to the highest levels of heroism, should our children, for instance, be trapped in a burning house. This fear is part of our animal heritage which comes into play when our lives, and those of our loved ones, are physically threatened.

But there is another fear of death, which is (as far as anyone knows) peculiar to human beings.

This has also been called an existential crisis, and fundamentally, it is a fear of annihilation, of ceasing to be. We tend to identify with our conscious mind or ego, and the thought of no more “I” after death can be intolerable and terrifying. It is also difficult to imagine. How can “I” stop existing? How can there be a world without “me” in it?

This kind of crisis or panic can affect us when we are in a vulnerable state, after a loved one has died, perhaps, or when we become elderly or are suffering from a life-threatening illness, such as cancer. It can leave us feeling anxious, isolated, unbearably lonely.

Just as small children can be fearful and resist falling asleep, so adults can be fearful and resist the ultimate sleep.

Is there a cure for it?

The traditional way in which humans have armoured themselves against the fear of death is through religion. Most of the world’s religions postulate an afterlife, a way in which a person can survive death, either as an individual spirit or a fragment returning to the great ocean of spirit, which we commonly call God.

But there are so many religions, each with its version of Heaven, Paradise, Nirvana or Elysium, and each with its various sects. Which one to choose? And can any of them prove beyond reasonable doubt that we do survive the deaths of our bodies? Speaking for myself, the answer to the last question is no.

There is also the materialist world view, i.e. that when the body dies, the atoms of which it is composed go their separate ways and that is it. No spirit, no soul, no God and no afterlife.

A materialist might argue that we can survive, in a fashion. We can live on in our children and grandchildren, and we can do good deeds in the world, so that our descendants have a better life than we did.

However, a moment’s thought will dispel this hope. If we are nought but atoms, then so are our children and our grandchildren. All the future generations who will inherit the goodness we create, will in turn become dust and be lost forever. And this will go on until the universe ends, or humanity becomes extinct, or perhaps if science enables us to prolong our lives indefinitely, which might not even be possible.

So is the situation hopeless? Perhaps not, but the answer might lie at the edges of current knowledge, not at its heart.

We have known for a long time that people in the grip of a life-threatening illness or accident sometimes experience an NDE or “near-death experience”. There are quite a few parts to this experience, and it varies, but here are some common elements. For instance, persons at the brink of death may find themselves floating or levitating, and looking down at their own (completely inert) bodies.

They might also have strong feelings of serenity and joy. Light also seems to be an important factor; they may move through a tunnel of light and enter a realm that appears to be aglow with a light that seems to be a spiritual, rather than physical, phenomenon. They may also meet previously-deceased relatives, undergo a detailed review of their lives to date, and encounter a being who resembles a deity, before returning to their physical bodies.

It is very difficult (some might say impossible) to prove that any of this is real. What would it take to prove, to a die-hard sceptic, that we survive physical death? One of the closest accounts we have to a demonstration that we exist independently of our mortal bodies, is the experience of singer-songwriter Pam Reynolds, who in 1991 underwent an operation, during which, for a while, she was clinically dead, with no blood flowing through her brain and no brain-wave activity.

Later, she is said to have given accurate descriptions of the medical procedures she had undergone, which were corroborated by the hospital staff, and it is very difficult to see how she could have sensed or known about these procedures, in the condition she was in.

So, do this and other accounts of NDEs provide proof that we survive, beyond all reasonable doubt? Well, no they don’t. But they are very interesting and consistent, nonetheless. Science has not been able to validate them (and maybe it will always be thus) but neither has it been able to disprove or debunk them, completely.

And there is more. People who have experienced them also find that their fear of dying has diminished, or has disappeared altogether. There was a study carried out in the Netherlands of survivors of cardiac arrest, which was published in the medical journal The Lancet in 2001. This study confirmed that people who had an NDE also had a significant increase in a belief in an afterlife, and a decrease in their fear of death, compared with those people who had not had the experience.

This is not proof that we each have a spirit or soul essence that survives the dissolution of our physical bodies, but it is an indication, perhaps, a sign, a ray of hope. It is difficult to see how a mere hallucination or dream, however vivid, could predictably have such a life-changing effect.

It will have no bearing on the purely physical response we have to the prospect of death. When immediate danger comes, our animal nature will always prompt us to fight or flee. But when we are lying alone in the dark at three in the morning, anxiously contemplating our mortality, then it may well provide some solace.

Perhaps the NDE phenomenon is the best antidote we can reasonably expect to have, for the fear of death.

Alex Cull, 2nd June 2008

(Another article I posted on Helium.com earlier this year.)

On Being an Introvert

Imagine being in a large minority group (roughly 20-30% of the total population) who are physically indistinguishable from the majority. Imagine that you are somehow unaware of this fact but are just conscious that you relate to people and to your surroundings differently, and are worried there may be “something the matter” with you.

And then imagine – but you may not have to, in fact. You may actually be someone like this. I know I am. I’m talking about being an introvert.

Ever since Carl Jung first coined these terms in the early 20th century (and especially since the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator was developed in the 1940s) introversion and extraversion have been used to describe two psychological polarities, which both come with a variety of traits and personal preferences.

We introverts are generally said to be more concerned with our inner world of thoughts and feelings than we are with the external world. We tend to enjoy our own company, feel frazzled after excessive socialising, and need to “recharge” by being alone for a while. We may prefer a few close friendships to a multitude of shallower relationships.

Extraverts, on the other hand, tend to be more attuned to the physical world around them, might dislike being alone, and thrive on plentiful interaction with others.

There is some scientific evidence to support this divide; for instance, a 1999 study found that patterns of blood flow in the brain differed according to whether the person tested was basically an introvert or an extravert. There are also theories (such as the “Big Five”) which suggest that people are scattered along a continuum, with a few people at the absolute extremes and “ambiverts” occupying the centre.

If we introverts are generally in a minority, then, what sort of challenges do we face? Are we less successful than extraverts? Are we poorer? Are we less happy?

I would argue that our main challenge is not directly to do with money, status, success or happiness.

It’s true that an extravert is generally more vocal (for example in classrooms and business meetings) and tends to receive more attention from teachers, when in school, and managers, when at work. But an introvert is generally more patient, methodical and diplomatic – being able to engage your brain before opening your mouth to speak, is also a definite advantage. Career-wise, I’d say it was pretty much a level playing field.

There is a high proportion of introverts who are also gifted, including such people as Albert Einstein and Bill Gates. Being an introvert is clearly no barrier to academic or financial success.

Are we happy? Some studies relate extraversion and a full social calendar to happiness, but I’m wondering whether this has just as much to do with self-awareness (or the lack of it) as it does with actual emotions. “Are you happy?” might elicit different answers from introverts and extraverts, just as the answers to “Are these two boxes green?” might depend on whether that person was colour blind or not. I would generally describe myself both as an introvert and as a very happy person, so perhaps that’s my bias showing.

No, I think the main challenge we have is linked to the fact that since the concepts of introversion and extraversion entered general public usage, these words have gathered meanings and connotations that were originally absent.

Consider the word “introverted”, when used in the media to describe someone. What sort of attributes might that person have? Chances are, the intention is to depict him or her as being a loner, socially awkward, not functioning well in society. Incidentally, there are words relating to extraversion which definitely have a positive bias (especially in Anglo-Saxon cultures), such as “outgoing”, which implies that person is pleasantly sociable and well-adjusted, also “gregarious” and “lively”. Compare these with “quiet”, “shy”, “solitary”.

A “lively” person is surely a happy member of society. But a “quiet” person? Hmm… There might be a problem here.

It seems to me that when a word is generally used, it often reflects the attitude of the majority. Just as a “black” day is a bad one, a “quiet” person sounds like someone who could be troubled, shy or insecure. This is understandable, if you consider that an extravert with deep problems might well be subdued and uncommunicative.

Being “quiet” thus has certain connotations, in most people’s minds. “Not talking? What’s wrong?”

It is clear to me why an introvert growing up in an extravert-oriented world, without being aware of the whole introversion/extraversion issue, would feel like a fish in the wrong pond. He or she might be labelled “shy”, because extraverts sometimes have difficulty understanding the important difference between shyness and introversion (a shy person avoids social contact out of fear, an introvert might do so out of personal preference.)

He or she would be seen, not as a normal introvert but essentially as a failed extravert.

This was basically me as a child. My school reports always labelled me as “quiet” (although I actually did quite well, academically.) I grew to think of myself as shy, self-conscious, rather inadequate socially. It has only been recently, as a middle-aged person, that I have become much more comfortable with who I am, and have accepted the fact that although I often enjoy the company of others, I need time alone to recover and renew myself, and there is nothing “the matter” with me because of that.

My message to fellow introverts who are still struggling to come to terms with yourselves is this. Know who you are. Listen to your inner nature, and instead of assuming that there is something wrong with you, learn to accept and love yourself unconditionally. Play to your strengths. And change the way you see yourself, not as an ugly duckling – but as a fledgling swan.

Alex Cull, 15th February 2008

(Another article for Helium.com, doing fairly well in the ratings at the moment.)

Money and Depression

Is money (or the lack of it) invariably linked with depression? Well, although money issues can certainly be a factor when a person becomes depressed, I would argue that this is not always the case, and that depression can often have little or nothing to do with money – or its absence.

First, there’s a strong link between major or clinical depression and heredity. Depression runs in families, as does bipolar disorder, so if your parents had a history of clinical depression, chances are that you (whether you are a princess or a pauper) will have inherited a vulnerability to that condition. It’s simply a possibility, not a certainty, and it’s to do with your genes and not the condition of your wallet.

This leaves the range of mild to acute depression that most people experience from time to time but is not devastating enough, normally, to warrant medical attention. You probably know what I’m talking about, feelings ranging from a mild case of the “blues” right up to persistent sadness, muffled anger or a pervasive sense that life has no meaning.

It’s true that difficulties with money can lead to depression. A survey in the UK by the National Depression Campaign found that 88% of people rated money problems as a likely cause, 1% more than the number of people that linked depression to a death or illness in the family. And that was back in 1999. With the credit crunch and spiralling personal debt often in the news in recent times, I would not be surprised to find this percentage even higher now. It’s no wonder that for many people finances seem to be inextricably linked to anxiety and gloom.

And yet… Even without studies and surveys, common sense tells us that money troubles are not the only reason why people get depressed. Despondency often sets in when we feel helpless and unable to avoid the setbacks life sends us. Thus a bullied schoolchild, a harassed employee, a convict in an overcrowded gaol, a bereaved husband or wife and a long-term invalid all may well suffer depression as a result of adverse life conditions.

Each of them might succumb to despair and helplessness, but it would have little or nothing to do with the state of his or her bank balance, and a lot more to do with relationships and physical circumstances.

So much, then, for depression caused by not having enough money. Could it be that having too much of it is also a problem?

The Happy Planet Index, introduced in 2006 by the New Economics Foundation, makes for some interesting (if controversial) reading. Basically, it is a ranking of the world’s nations, based on happiness rather than GDP, and, for what it’s worth, some of the world’s poorer countries have high scores the top three are Vanuatu, Columbia and Costa Rica – while the wealthiest nations such as Japan and the US come in at 95 and 150, respectively. While these scores are not purely measurements of people’s levels of happiness, as they are partly based on environmentalists’ ideas of sustainability, they are nevertheless intriguing.

Is it possible, then, that being rich, or indeed living in a rich country, can tend to make you depressed?

There is some truth in that. Economist Richard Easterlin proposed in 1974 that once people have attained a certain level of financial security, their happiness does not grow in proportion to any future increases in wealth. In other words, if I have one loaf of bread I am a lot happier than if I had none at all, but if I become richer and can afford to buy two, three or four loaves, there is no great gain in happiness with each addition.

The pleasures of the consumer society also seem to be fleeting. “Hedonic adaptation” sets in, which means that the thrill of acquiring a new widescreen TV, iPod or Mercedes-Benz diminishes swiftly, as the object of desire becomes merely another thing to be stored, insured and worried about. It can make us happy only for a brief moment, and after that, we always need to strive for the next acquisition, the next temporary pleasure.

This might be why “retail therapy” only works for a while. The excitement of buying something new gives way to the muted pleasure of ownership, then perhaps to ennui and depression once more, paving the way for another repeat of the cycle.

But is the root cause of this problem money, or is it the absence of something else?

It seems to me that we are happiest when we have a purpose in life, and there are quite a few attributes and activities that can help us keep us engaged and have a meaningful existence. Positive psychologist Martin Seligman has broadly identified some of these, including being sociable, married, self-disciplined and having religious convictions. From personal experience, I have also found that creative tasks, and any absorbing activity be it gardening, writing, playing tennis, doing volunteer work – that generates what is now called “flow”, can add meaning and purpose to my life.

I suggest that it is not so much that affluence is the causeof depression, but that we have a need for meaning in our lives that money simply cannot, by its very nature, fulfil entirely. Like the man in the story, who searched for his keys under the bright streetlamp, rather than in his dark house where he had lost them, we are simply looking in the wrong place.

(I would add that being an entrepreneur and building a business are meaningful activities in themselves, which can bestow an authentic sense of purpose. The hunger to fill an inner void by acquiring money and material possessions is not the same thing, in my opinion.)

So, back to the question as to whether money and depression are invariably linked, I would answer that they are not. Our genes may give us (just) a tendency to clinical depression, no matter if we are rich or poor. Lack of money might help to make us depressed, but then so might a lot of other things, such as bad relationships or failing health.

Lastly, those of us who live in affluent societies have a choice, either to remain on the hedonic treadmill and become disappointed and depressed when money and consumer goods do not deliver all they promised or to look within ourselves, find out what fires us up and fills us with purpose, and forge a meaningful life for ourselves.

That’s the thought I would like to leave you with. When we are depressed, life seems hopeless and without meaning, but once we make a decision to find a purpose, a reason to go on living, things change. Something shifts within us, and the grey hand of depression begins to loosen its hold.

And that would seem to be true, whether we are rich, poor, or somewhere in between.

Alex Cull, 5th March 2008

(This was another article I submitted to Helium.com, adding my two cents to the debate: “Is money invariably linked with depression?” Obviously these two things are not invariably linked but there we are.)