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Dysfunctional Capitalism Mental Illness
Dysfunctional Capitalism Mental Illness
In the days to come, politics and therapy will be one and the same. […]. Capitalism will not
disappear from the global landscape, but it will lose its pervasive, paradigmatic role in our
semiotization. (Franco Berardi, The Soul at Work, p. 220)
Introduction
On 17 April 2015, only a few weeks before the General Election, The
Guardian published an open letter signed by 442 psychotherapists,
counsellors and academics calling for the Labour Party and others to address the
damaging effects of the coalition government’s austerity measures on the British
population’s mental health, arguing that
Apart from blaming the Cameron government for this troubling situation, the
authors become even more explicit when it comes to naming the ideological
regimes held guilty for this state of affairs: ‘‘the wider reality of a society thrown
completely off balance by the emotional toxicity of neoliberal thinking is
affecting Britain in profound ways, the distressing effects of which are often
most visible in the therapist’s consulting room’’ (ibid.).1
The letter is remarkable for the way mental illness and therapists’ everyday
work with its effects on their patients is placed in a wider national-cultural
context. The psychological strain suffered by significant parts of the population
is metonymically representative of the ‘‘emotional state of the nation’’ – the
United Kingdom itself becomes a mental patient in desperate need of a session in
the consulting room. Indeed, the open letter’s argument resonates with a
considerable number of recent publications in the fields of cultural criticism,
sociology, philosophy, psychology and political activism that address the
interplay of capitalism (in its current neoliberal form), mental health and the
fields of psychology and psychoanalysis. By linking the emotional wellbeing of
individuals to the diagnosis of an acutely moribund national psyche requiring
immediate action, the open letter resembles diagnoses in a number of British
publications by Mark Fisher (2009, 2014), J.D. Taylor (2013), and Ron Roberts
(2015). While these publications particularly focus on the British version of
contemporary neoliberalism, Carl Walker (2008) and Franco ‘‘Bifo’’ Berardi
(2009) establish a connection between Western capitalism and what is largely
referred to as a mental health epidemic.
The sheer range of these publications alone testifies to the urgency of this
topic which, apparently, has become drastically acute in the years since the
2008 financial crisis. Even if the crisis is not always explicitly mentioned, it
looms in the background of each text as an event that proved to be a rupture in
The banking crisis challenged the hegemony of such economic policies, but
did not displace them: indeed the state-sponsored buyouts of parts of the
financial sector can be viewed as interventions to prop up failing capital.
Any notion that the crisis would open up space for emergent rationalities –
expanded public spending to deal with the social consequences of crisis, a
less consumerist society more concerned with the sustainability of
resources and the quality of life, a renewed trust in public institutions
rather than private profit – was quickly deflected by governments anxious
to restore the pre-crisis status quo and even exploit the crisis to enable
further profit-taking. (p. 107)
doctrines, but their use of psychoanalytic theories implies that these offer a
progressive solution. Samo Tomšič (2015) summarises the problem in his
assessment of the political potential of (Lacanian) psychoanalysis:
For Deleuze and Guattari (2009), Freudian psychoanalysis with its ‘‘analytic
imperialism of the Oedipus complex’’ (p. 23) is complicit with capitalism and
stabilises its ideology precisely because Freud has become yet another
patriarchal authority figure. This point has also been elaborated on in a
different context by Stephen Frosh (2006) in his discussion of the place of
psychoanalysis in the social and cultural world of the 20th and 21st century,
who states that ‘‘psychoanalysis is built heavily around the structures of
authority, in which power comes not through the expression of an individual
talent […] but through the gradual accrual of status in an insular and
labyrinthine social network’’ (p. 6). As Frosh argues, Freud himself assumed the
status of a ‘‘father’’ who was building a ‘‘psychoanalytic empire’’ (p. 6), leading –
in his own terms – to a transference between himself and his students and
followers.
It is indeed the task of schizoanalysis to dismantle this patriarchal structure –
which, according to its proponents, is expressive of the totalising force of
capitalism – through a new and liberating form of psychiatry that refuses to
reduce its patients to Oedipal structures. The schizophrenic is for Deleuze and
Guattari the paradigmatic figure of resistance against the alliance of psycho-
analysis and capitalism, since ‘‘Freud doesn’t like schizophrenics. He doesn’t like
their resistance to being oedipalized […]. They are apathetic, narcissistic, cut off
from reality, incapable of achieving transference; they resemble philosophers –
‘an undesirable resemblance’’’ (p. 23). The schizophrenic is problematic for a
typical Freudian analysis because he resists the individualising tendencies that
are primarily formed on the basis of the patient’s family history.
Since contemporary Western culture is already fundamentally shaped by an
epistemology based on Freudian theories, patients always already expect to be
reduced to their Oedipal complexes. The ‘‘artificial territorialities of our
society’’, and hence of capitalism, are projected onto the figure of the
psychoanalyst and elicit a reflexive response by the patient who already expects
no deeper insight from the analysis: ‘‘yes, my boss is my father, and so is the
Chief of State, and so are you, Doctor’’ (p. 35). The analyst thereby becomes
another father figure, which is consequently another implementation of state
authority that isolates the patient from any deeper social interconnection.
In this, I would argue, lies the similarity with Fisher’s, Taylor’s and Berardi’s
critiques of capitalism and its treatment of mental conditions. What Fisher calls
the ‘‘privatisation’’ and ‘‘de-politicisation’’ of depression corresponds to Deleuze
and Guattari’s (2009) criticism of a reductive psychoanalysis. The latter expand
on the Lacanian tension between the Symbolic and the unsignifiable Real with
their concept of ‘‘capitalist representation’’ (p. 240). In their thinking,
representation is a system of signs and images that denies the existence of
difference and provides a set of norms. The politician is a paradigmatic figure of
capitalist representation, as is the Freudian analyst in the service of ideology.
Philosophers and artists, however, are oppositional figures who strive for the
new and set out to destroy representation. Here, schizoanalysis comes into play
as it ‘‘[devotes] itself with all its strength to the necessary destructions.
Destroying beliefs and representations, theatrical scenes’’ (p. 314).
For Deleuze and Guattari, although first and foremost a ‘‘negative or
destructive task’’ (p. 322), this is at the same time an ‘‘affirmative task’’ (p. 334),
which helps to overcome representation. Capitalism – as a monetary and
material organisation, but most importantly as a representational system – rests
on a specific semiotic economy that assumes a hegemonic position in the
interpretation and decoding of signs: ‘‘Civilization is defined by the decoding
and the deterritorialization of flows in capitalist production’’ (p. 244).
Consequently, the ‘‘flow’’ of signs is interrupted by universalising interpretations
(or decodings), which finally leads to a process of abstraction between signifier
and signified. This includes the ‘‘abstraction of monetary quantities, but also the
abstraction of the quantity of labor; the limitless relationship between capital
and labor capacity’’, and, ultimately, the interruption of flows – a process that
produces ‘‘schizos’’ (p. 245). Here, psychoanalysis takes its place in the capitalist
representational system because it is part of the decoding machine:
Our societies exhibit a marked taste for all codes […] but this taste is
destructive and morbid. While decoding doubtless means understanding
and translating a code, it also means destroying the code as such, assigning
it an archaic, folkloric, or residual function, which makes of psychoanal-
ysis and ethnology two disciplines highly regarded in our modern societies.
(p. 245)
accelerating its processes, has recently been criticised by Benjamin Noys (2014)
as ‘‘Deleuzian Thatcherism’’ (p. 11). Noys (2012) further argues that what he
calls the ‘‘ultra-leftist’’ French philosophers of the 1970s fail to provide an actual
programme for political action. This criticism is, among others, explicitly
concerned with the Deleuzian-Guattarian notion of the ‘‘schizo’’:
Indeed, the current crisis in Britain’s mental health treatment and the rise in
depression as consequences of increasing unemployment rates and austerity
measures indicate that Deleuze and Guattari’s ‘‘schizo’’, the paradigmatic
figure of acceleration, has run its course as a model for thinking and figuring
capitalism in psychoanalytic terms. Rather, current phenomena suggest we go in
the opposite direction, that is, toward the reversal of affirmation and
acceleration.
As J. Halberstam (2011) remarks in her study on cultural figurations of
failure, ‘‘failure […] goes hand in hand with capitalism’’ (p. 88). Acknowledging
failure in a meritocratic capitalist society offers ‘‘alternative ways of knowing
and being’’ (p. 24). Figuring failure as an alternative epistemological and
ontological project can be connected to Noys’ (2012) extrapolation of ‘‘‘the
destructive side’’’ and ‘‘the forms of agency that might condense […] negativity
as a point of intervention’’ (p. 4). This ‘‘negative’’ intervention, however, is an
‘‘alternative which defines itself not simply as a mode of misery’’ (Noys, 2014,
p. 101). Rather, as Noys suggests, ‘‘[s]tarting from misery might instead involve
developing forms of politicization that could not only recognize misery but
delink from what causes us misery’’ (p. 103). This notion of what I would label
an epistemology of the negative resonates with recent attempts to come to terms
with depression and anxiety from a Deleuzian-Guattarian perspective.
of schizoanalysis, albeit with a twist. The same can be said for Berardi’s
dissection of depression in The Soul at Work. Berardi (2009) acknowledges that
Deleuze and Guattari hardly ever speak of depression, but he nevertheless
interprets their later work on chaos, after the Capitalism and Schizophrenia
series, in terms of depression. He considers their definition of chaos – ‘‘the
acceleration of the semiosphere and the thickening of the info-crust’’ and of ‘‘the
surrounding world of signs, symbols and info-stimulation’’ that is ‘‘producing
panic’’ – as the precondition for depression, which, as he argues, ‘‘is the
deactivation of desire after a panicked acceleration’’ (p. 214). Hence, Berardi
goes on to claim, in a way that clearly resonates with Noys’ and Halberstam’s
epistemology of the negative, that ‘‘[w]e should not see depression as a mere
pathology, but also as a form of knowledge. […] Suffering, imperfection,
senility, decomposition: this is the truth that you can see from a depressive point
of view’’ (p. 215). Depression thus becomes fathomable as a form of knowledge,
‘‘a political reclamation of negativity’’ that overcomes the ‘‘reactionary response
which is the positive, the idiot plaster of affirmation’’ (Taylor, 2013, p. 87).
According to this argument, neoliberalism is, in its meritocratic individual-
isation and fragmentation of society, a semiotic system in which the achieve-
ment of personal happiness and what Berlant (2011) has called the ‘‘fantasmatic
infrastructure of the good life’’ (p. 60) constitute the primary libidinal drive.
Hence, the negative (and most importantly its critical and productive compo-
nents) is shut out of the neoliberal semiosphere. Taylor insists on the distinction
between negativity as a progressive force and pessimism, which, according to his
argument, is the opposite (quite in line with Berlant’s (2011) notion of ‘‘cruel
optimism’’) – an affective position constituted by the growing awareness of
one’s precarious position in society which, in the light of the crumbling fantasy
of the ‘‘good life’’, precipitates feelings of isolation, emotional exhaustion and,
consequently, depression (p. 2). Throughout her book, Berlant argues for forms
of solidarity and collectivity that overcome this damaging isolation in the face of
the shared threat of precarity. This new form of ‘‘embracing’’ negativity and
abandoning the fantasy of the good life or unfounded optimism would thus lead
to new forms of radical democracy. Thus, what remains rather abstract and
meta-theoretical in Noys’ reflections becomes a more concrete political project
in Berlant’s and, ultimately, Taylor’s (2013) writings: ‘‘The task of a negative
social democratic revolt is to demonstrate how history is transformed through
spontaneous and devious eruptions of life’’ (p. 88). Instead of the ‘‘aloof and
impotent individual’’ succumbing to ‘‘cynicism and melancholia’’, it is time to
‘‘venture into the dark pleasure of the negative, the powerful and pulsating
substance of life, […] which might be moulded into a new democratic body’’
(p. 88).
The notion of an affective revolt that will culminate in the formation of new
collectivities is also at the heart of Berardi’s (2009) call for a ‘‘therapeutic
intervention’’ as ‘‘political action’’, one which ‘‘needs to be conceived first of all
If conceived this way, then, schizoanalysis can become important for a cultural
studies informed by psychoanalytic theories and methods. If we bear in mind the
potential pitfalls (outlined in the two objections directed at a Deleuzian-
Guattarian affirmationism) of the ideas presented in Anti-Oedipus and
subsequent interpretations thereof, we find that the concept of schizoanalysis
can firstly serve as a corrective set of ideas allowing for a critical and productive
re-reading (or a meta-observation) of psychoanalytic approaches in the field of
cultural studies. Provided that Deleuze and Guattari’s ideas are not uncritically
elevated to a new dogma, they can help prevent psychoanalytic theory from
becoming a ready made and universalising school of thought. Secondly, and
perhaps more practically, within the methodological toolkit of cultural studies
(and one does not necessarily have to subscribe to the radical measures
proposed by Taylor or Berardi here), the notions subsumed under schizoanalysis
can, coupled with a re-framing of ‘‘negativity’’, provide us with the terminology
and the epistemological frames to come to terms with the intricate and
sometimes paradoxical connections of capitalism (or neoliberalism), mental
illness and psychiatric and psychoanalytic apparatuses.
With respect to the ‘‘mental health plague’’ said to be haunting contemporary
austerity Britain, a cultural studies methodology attuned to these notions offers
a path through the intricate web of discourses that informs the ways in which
mental illness and its connection to a neoliberal society are being conceived. It
offers a possibility to examine how the language of crisis in reaction to
neoliberalism’s effect on mental health frames and figures those affected by it.
Here, a psychoanalytically informed stance offers perspectives on the relation
between the psyche of the individual and the social collective that is evoked in
such statements as those that speak of the ‘‘emotional state of the nation.’’ How
can ‘‘the nation’’ be emotionally affected and what seems to be gained by the
recourse to such figures of speech? Considering the widespread sense of
neoliberalism as an all-encompassing ideological form, economic principle and
way of life, how can we critically dissect the symbolic, emotional and material
components of the ‘‘intimidatory regime’’ of neoliberal austerity measures? The
concept of schizoanalysis offers ways to challenge common semiotisations that
go along with these kinds of regimes and at the same time offer ways to re-assess
what a society and its members consider desirable in terms of mental health,
economics and ways of life. This, as I have outlined, also conforms to a re-
evaluation of what it means to live a ‘‘good life’’ and to pursue fantasies of
happiness.
In addition, with respect to the theoretical design of a cultural studies
approach that intends to study the intersections of psychological aspects of a
culture under capitalism, Deleuze and Guattari’s ‘‘negative’’ schizoanalytic
approach bears the potential of a meta-discourse. I conceive of this meta-
discourse, in the terms proposed by Ian Buchanan (2008) in his reading of Anti-
Oedipus, as animated by a ‘‘dialectical reversal’’ (p. 78). According to
Buchanan, this dialectical reversal is embodied in the Oedipus complex ‘‘which
for psychoanalysis is the solution to the problem of how desire functions’’ – a
solution that Deleuze and Guattari in turn transform ‘‘into a problem all over
again by asking how and under what conditions we came to think of ourselves
as Oedipalized’’ (p. 78). This dialectical reversal, in the terminology developed
by Deleuze and Guattari, can be described as a continuous deterritorialisation,
or, within the ‘‘negative’’ task of schizoanalysis, a ‘‘necessary destruction’’. The
task is to maintain a sense of multiplicity, and, in addition, a critical stance that
avoids falling into the traps outlined by Samo Tomšič – that is, criticising and
dissecting the intersections of capitalism and its effects by falling prey to its
representational systems.
In conclusion, I would like to take up Lawrence Grossberg’s (2014) recent
‘‘polemic’’ on the possibilities of productively negotiating between cultural
studies and the work of Deleuze and Guattari. Conceiving of cultural studies as
‘‘a conjuncturally specific pragmatic assemblage’’ that defies ‘‘the desire for
theoretical or political purity’’ (p. 20, fn. 1), Grossberg emphasises the
significant contribution that a Deleuzian-Guattarian perspective can make to
the field of cultural studies. The strength of Deleuze and Guattari lies precisely
in their philosophy’s ‘‘anti-universalist’’ awareness of ‘‘multiplicities’’: ‘‘they
demand that we think multiplicities – everywhere, wherever we think there are
singularities or binaries, we need to think multiplicities – not merely as
accumulations or sets of singularities, but as a multiplicity of forms of
organization as well’’ (p. 19). In addition, Grossberg credits Deleuze and
Guattari with providing the tools to use theoretical concepts ‘‘in conversation
with the demands of the material realities of the actual’’ – that is, they offer ways
to consider the multiplicities and structures that constitute the ‘‘realities of social
existence’’ (p. 19). Using the example of competing theories about capitalism
and their effects on social realities, Grossberg calls for a reconstruction of the
‘‘relations among the multiplicity of processes of power, sorting out not just the
old and new, but also, how the old becomes new’’ (p. 19).
Applied to the field of psychoanalytic cultural studies and the example of
mental illness under capitalism, this can be achieved not only by trying to come to
terms with a given cultural phenomenon by means of psychoanalytic theory, but
by showing how the discourse of psychoanalysis can be complicit with the
hegemonic forms that we try to describe by its means. Rather than just dismissing
a theory for its potential alignment with power and dominant discourse, a
Deleuzian-Guattarian approach can thus help to uncover the multiplicities of
such interconnections and make them work to galvanise cultural studies.
Notes
1 The claims about the effects of austerity measures and the overall social climate after the 2008
financial crisis have been backed by several recent studies. Mattheys et al (2016), for instance, offer
a comprehensive cohort study of mental health in Stockton-on-Tees, England to assess the
development of mental health within different social strata after the implementation of austerity
measures by the Coalition government in 2010. They conclude that there ‘‘is significant social and
health inequality in Stockton’’, with ‘‘material and psychosocial factors’’ being the ‘‘most important
determinants of the gap’’ in ‘‘mental health and wellbeing between the most and least deprived areas
of Stockton-on-Tees in a time of austerity’’ (p. 358). See also Whitehead et al (2015) for a
comprehensive discussion of trends in mental health inequalities during the post-2008 recession,
and Stuckler and Basu (2013) for a discussion of these issues on a global scale.
2 Tomšič (2015) singles out Reich and Marcuse as particular exponents of ‘‘Freudo-Marxism’’ who
have fallen into this trap, due to their primary focus on the repression of sexuality in capitalist culture
and their conclusion that a freed sexuality will counter capitalism’s normalising tendencies (p. 8).
References
Berardi, F. (2009) The Soul at Work. From Alienation to Autonomy. South Pasadena:
Semiotexte(s).
Berlant, L. (2011) Cruel Optimism. Durham/London: Duke University Press.