At least influenza is seasonal. Affluenza makes life meaningless?

"My aunt died of influenza" begins Eliza Doolittle, remember?

At least that is an illness that we can hope to fight against by taking preventive flu shots, or by resting and taking care when sick.

But, how do you deal with a problem like affluenza?

When we did not have much, we made do with what we had.  As we begin to live the life of affluence (if you are reading this, face it, you are affluent!) there is always a chance that we will be on the path towards being infected with affluenza, for which there is only one cure, which is within ourselves.

A few years ago, well, nearly two decades ago, the visiting Swedish high school student we were hosting talked about depression among the youth in her country.   She thought out her reason for that, which was along the lines of "we have everything we want. So, the teenagers invent problems and cut their wrists."

I often remind students when we discuss poverty that the economic deprivation does not equate to despair and depression and all those negative associations.  There is, of course, a good chance that we are happy when we do not have to worry about where the next meal will come from, or to worry about shelter. That basic, fundamental, material needs, the lack of which can easily make one unhappy.  But, once we look beyond those basic aspects, and as we move along in the affluence continuum, do we find our lives to be meaningful?

Do the poor have more meaningful lives?

Thousands of people, completing an annual Gallup survey administered in a hundred and thirty-two countries, reported how happy they were, whether their lives had “an important purpose or meaning,” and where their lives stood on a scale from zero (worst possible life) to ten (best possible life).
The first result replicated plenty of earlier research: people from wealthier countries were generally happier than those from poorer countries. To reach an average life-satisfaction score of four out of ten, people needed to earn about seven hundred dollars a year; for a score of five, they needed to earn an average of three thousand dollars per year; for a score of six, they needed to earn an average of sixteen thousand dollars per year; and to score seven they needed to earn an average of sixty-four thousand dollars a year.
But, if wealth fostered happiness, it appeared to drain meaningfulness. Between ninety-five and a hundred per cent of the respondents from poverty-stricken Sierra Leone, Togo, Kyrgyzstan, Chad, and Ethiopia reported leading meaningful lives. Only two-thirds of the respondents in Japan, France, and Spain believed their lives had meaning.

A typical Ethiopian or a Bangladeshi finds life to be a lot more meaningful than does a typical American or Swede.  Not difficult to guess that there is practically no affluenza in Ethiopia or Bangladesh!  How does this work?

Happiness was generally a reflection of how they felt in the present alone. Happier people were more likely to report leading easy lives, to be in good health, to feel good much of the time, and to be able to buy what they needed without financial strain. People who felt their lives were meaningful, on the other hand, were likelier to have experienced fulfilling social relationships, engaged in acts of charity, taken care of their children, thought about struggles and challenges, and prayed, among other activities. These characteristics sound a lot like the social ties and religious beliefs that gave poorer people a sense of purpose in Oishi and Diener’s paper. Perhaps because poverty strips people of happiness in the short term, it forces them to take the long view—to focus on the relationships they have with their children, their gods, and their friends, which become more meaningful over time.

I am not sure I agree with the possible corollary that there is a tradeoff involved between the short-term material needs happiness and meaningfulness over the horizon. But, perhaps I feel the lack of the tradeoff because of the intensely introspective and reflective and autoethnographic life that I lead?  I suppose it is quite possible that those caught up in the short-term "rat race to richness" might feel that emptiness about what life is all about?

“On Wall Street, hard work is always overwork.” Grinding out hundred-hour weeks for years helps bankers think of themselves as tougher and more dedicated than everyone else. And working fifteen hours a day doesn’t just demonstrate your commitment to a company; it also reinforces that commitment. Over time, the simple fact that you work so much becomes proof that the job is worthwhile, and being in the office day and night becomes a kind of permanent initiation ritual. 

The more we stand and stare the more meaning we find in life?  I am convinced about that.

Have I convinced you?  Are you sufficiently inoculated against affluenza?

A dude with a hoodie on, on a hammock, by the river, basking in the sunlight