4/5
In a nutshell: an important “counter-culture” book, a sort of “anti-self-help” message which emphasizes the importance of our past, duty, virtue, community, mortality—things which closely resemble the Stoic philosophy, except the author criticizes one aspect of Stoicism: the over-reliance on the present.
Brinkmann said at the end of the book,
“I don’t believe that humankind mainly lives in the moment, but in time as an extensive and continuous structure. This focus on the present, and on the individual’s power to determine how they will be affected by what is happening right now, closely resembles the current self-development wave (‘you can choose to be happy now!’). In my view, this gives the individual too great a responsibility for how he or she meets the world. I don’t believe that we can freely choose how we will be affected by the present. To the extent that this is a Stoic ideal, I would say that Stoicism should be challenged on this central point. We are, to a far greater extent than the Stoics would accept, impotent – indeed, the realisation of this can act as a source of solidarity between people.” (p. 137)
The author argues that our modern culture (he calls it “accelerating culture”) is too obsessed with “the self” and “self-improvement” and criticizes its main virtues like flexibility, mobility, the over-reliance on positivity and the demonization of negativity, the myth of “finding an authentic self by looking inside” and the whole movement of positive psychology, life coaches, self-help gurus etc.
He identifies 7 steps to countering this culture: (in a satiric way):
1) Cut out the navel-gazing
2) Focus on the negative in your life
3) Put on the “No hat”
4) Suppress your feelings
5) Sack your [self-help] coach
6) Read a novel – not a self-help book or biography
7) Dwell on the past
Here’s some quotes that stood out for me:
“I contend that in order to learn to survive in an accelerating culture – to stand firm – we should look to classical Stoic philosophy for inspiration, especially its emphases on self-control, peace of mind, dignity, sense of duty and reflection on the finite nature of life. These virtues engender a deeper sense of fulfilment than the superficial focus on permanent development and transformation.” (p. 9-10)
“There is simply no point in attaching so much importance to gut feelings and introspection. At first, you may think that this sounds counterintuitive, but actually it’s just common sense. If somebody is in trouble and needs help, there’s no point basing your reaction on how helping them would make you feel. What you need to think about is the other person. You need to base your reaction on the idea that it’s important to help others per se whenever possible – regardless of how it makes you feel. Whenever aficionados of science, art or philosophy insist that knowledge of Einstein, Mozart or Wittgenstein enriches the human experience, you don’t ask yourself ‘Yes, but how does it make me feel?’ before deciding whether they are of any interest to you. What you need to do is take an interest in what these people actually say, rather than how their utterances make you feel. You need to learn to look outwards, not inwards; to be open to other people, cultures and nature. You need to accept that the self does not hold the key to how to live your life. The self is merely an idea, a construct, a by-product of cultural history. As such, it is by its very nature more external than internal.” (p. 16)
“Philip Cushman once posited that the depression epidemic in the West is explained by the fact that if you look inwards long enough – if you dwell on how you feel, and use therapy to find yourself – then depression will descend the moment you realise that there is, in fact, nothing there. If, as is constantly asserted, the meaning of life is to be found inside you, then finding nothing there renders it all pointless. By spending inordinate amounts of time on navel-gazing you risk ending up disappointed [..] Society sets objective standards for what constitutes a good engineer (technical skills, mathematical understanding, etc.), and they have nothing to do with how you feel inside.” (p. 19)
“…excessive self-analysis brings with it a genuine risk of feeling something that is actually meaningless, but that assumes meaning through the very process of feeling it. Since the 1980s, doctors have been referring to this as the health paradox. More and better methods of diagnosis and treatment have led to people becoming trapped in a cycle of perpetual self-diagnosis, resulting in widespread discomfort and even hypochondria. In short: the more advanced medical science becomes, the sicker people think they are.” (p. 20)
“Why have we forgotten that the truth is out there, not inside us? The German sociologist and philosopher Axel Honneth provides one possible answer. He thinks that the idea that ‘the answer is inside me’ – and that the purpose of life is therefore self-realisation – may well have had a certain liberating appeal back in the 1960s. At that time, there was no shortage of good reasons to throw off the shackles of a rigid society that placed unnecessary restrictions on personal and human development. Honneth argues, however, that while this inward turn may well once have constituted a legitimate form of resistance to ‘the system’, it has subsequently become the basis upon which the very same system now legitimises itself. He thinks that post-modern consumer society – which in this book I call accelerating culture – cultivates individuals who are flexible, changeable and constantly preoccupied with self-development and reinvention. To stand still in a society based on growth and consumption is akin to dissent. The self-realisation tsunami has aided and abetted the market’s demand for a servile and flexible workforce, which is why, over the last fifty years, all sorts of ostensibly progressive management and organisational theories have focused on ‘the whole person’, ‘human resources’ and the idea of self-realisation through work. Self-realisation is no longer a liberating concept. Rather, it involves you accepting the idea of an inner self that you must develop, and perhaps even capitalise on, in ways that are designed to benefit your place of work.” (p. 21-22)
“Positive psychology can be seen as a scientific reflection of the accelerating culture’s fascination with positivity. It really took off in 1988, when Martin Seligman became president of the American Psychological Association. Seligman built his reputation on the theory of learned helplessness as a factor in depression. Learned helplessness is a state of apathy, or at least a lack of will to change painful experiences – even in situations where you actually have options that would allow you to avoid the pain. Seligman had developed the theory via experiments that involved administering electric shocks to dogs. When he (understandably) grew tired of torturing man’s best friend, he decided to focus on something more life-affirming, and threw himself into positive psychology instead. Positive psychology rejects the focus on human problems and suffering that previously epitomised much of psychology (Seligman sometimes calls standard psychology ‘negative psychology’). Rather, it is a scientific study of what is good in life and human nature. In particular, it asks what happiness is and how it is achieved, and seeks to identify positive human personality traits. As president of the American Psychological Association, Seligman used his office to promote positive psychology. He succeeded to such an extent that there are now study programmes, centres and scientific journals dedicated to the subject.” (p. 33-34)
“‘Better to be Socrates dissatisfied, than a fool satisfied’, as the British utilitarian John Stuart Mill said in the nineteenth century. Not everything is possible. Not everything turns into positive happiness. However, there are other aspects of life that are worth striving for, such as dignity and a sense of reality. The point is that you must dare to face up to negativity. You might be able to make some positive changes but, quite simply, the negative aspects of life are here to stay. Accept it. However, we must be allowed to complain and criticise. If we are blinkered, positive and optimistic all of the time, we run the risk of the shock being all the greater when things do go wrong for us. Focusing on the negative prepares you for future adversity. And complaining can also increase your awareness of the good things in life. ‘I’ve got a sore toe – but the rest of my leg doesn’t hurt!’”. (p. 40-41)
“True internal control – called integrity in this book – consists of adhering to moral values, understanding the importance of obligations and duty, and using reason to determine what is good and right in a given situation. If you have integrity, you will often have to say no because so much of the accelerating culture deserves to be renounced.” (p. 47)
“If we aren’t capable of feeling ashamed, then we have no way of sensing how the world around us feels about what we say or do. Shame is a sign that you are acting in a manner considered unacceptable by your own community. You might even say that it would be difficult to become a mature, thinking being – with the character and integrity outlined in the previous chapter – if you know no shame.” (p. 60).
“In the accelerating culture, words like ‘passionate’, ‘love’ and ‘fun’ are increasingly associated with our working lives. This has led the sociologist Eva Illouz to describe the modern age as that of an ‘emotional capitalism’, in which economics and emotions are intertwined. Emotional capitalism is a culture of emotions, in which feelings play a significant part in personal transactions between individuals. It is our emotional competencies that make us attractive in the markets (for both work and love). The concept of ‘emotional work’ is well described in sociological literature. It has long been particularly characteristic of the service sector, e.g. flight attendants who smile and are always cheerful to keep up the spirits of stressed and perhaps nervous passengers. Even while being abused, they respond in a positive and welcoming manner, which can be quite taxing for them. Some airlines even send flight attendants on acting courses, so that they know how to summon forth positive emotions. These courses correspond to certain actors’ penchant for ‘method acting’ – you don’t just play out certain emotions, but actually have them. The keyword is authenticity. We want flight attendants who really are happy, not just pretending.” (p. 63-64)
“Essentially, emotional life has been commercialised or commodified – we buy and sell emotions in the labour market. If we lack emotional competencies (or emotional intelligence, to use the psychological buzzword), then we run the risk of being sent on a personal development course to get in better touch with ourselves.” (p. 64-65)
“Life is far too short for anger. You must learn to repress emotions that disturb your peace of mind and prevent you standing firm. If you want to stand firm, it is a precondition that you aren’t easily knocked off your stride. We are constantly bombarded with appeals to our emotions – on television, in social media and in advertising – and this constantly changes what we want. If you constantly pursue ephemeral desires, you can’t stand firm. And if you can’t stand firm, you aren’t in a position to do your duty. You should therefore learn to suppress your feelings. This may be at the expense of authenticity – which is in itself a benefit. It bestows a certain degree of dignity on an individual to be in control of their emotions.” (p. 72)
“Unlike self-help books and most autobiographies, novels present life more faithfully – as complex, random, chaotic and multifaceted. Novels remind you how little control you have over your life, and also show how it is inextricably entangled with social, cultural and historical processes. Acknowledging this endows you with a humility that might help you to do your duty in life, rather than constantly honing in on yourself and your personal development.” (p. 88)
“Concepts like innovation and creativity float around in all sorts of discourse about organisation and education, in which any sense of the value of repetition and the tried and tested has been lost. We are forever being told to ‘think outside the box’. Fortunately, less excitable creativity researchers have pointed out that it only makes sense to think outside the box if you know that there is a box (and what it’s made of). In most cases, it’s probably wiser to balance on the edge of the box, only tinkering around the edges and improvising around tried-and-tested themes. The new only makes sense within a horizon of something known. If you know nothing of the past and its traditions, it’s impossible to create anything new that is useful.” (p. 105)
“One of the starting points for this book is that the problems associated with life have changed in the past half-century. The basic problem used to be that life was overly rigid – stability was lauded over mobility. Now, it is overly flexible.” (p. 115)
Towards the end of the book, Brinkmann shares his doubts regarding this book and how it may not convey his intended message:
“My main doubt about the book is whether this negativist alternative actually tacitly accepts the individualist premise it purports to contest. Isn’t there a risk of adding to the burdens already heaped on the shoulders of individuals by exhorting them also to take these seven steps? It’s a legitimate concern, but my hope is that by inverting the logic of the self-development mania, the book will highlight its absurdity. It’s a fairly safe bet that positive or negative thinking alone won’t solve the big problems the planet faces. Nevertheless, I do think that Stoic reflection acts as a refreshing tonic when confronted by runaway consumerism and coercive development. However, to use a medical analogy, this is just addressing the symptoms. Other types of discussion and action (political, economic, etc.) are needed if we are to cure the major ailments of the day (e.g. global environmental and economic crises) and the growth paradigm associated with them.” (p. 116)
This book is an impressive attempt at providing an alternative to the mainstream culture of positive psychology and the obsession with the self. Although not perfect, and at times (ironically) too forced and one-sided (satire, maybe?), it is a needed message if we want to look at life from a different perspective. His analysis is good, his solutions may be lacking in clarity and nuance. Still, Brinkmann’s efforts are provocative and laudable, and I cannot recommend this book enough.