Our Compulsive World
The pitfalls of a common personality trait and the fuzziness of mental health
Hammer Time
I caught a nasty flu last week. I don’t know about you, but I use “sickness” as an excuse to act like a total slob. I can’t think of any good reason that the flu prevented me from writing, reading, or studying German. It did, though, and I spent a few sick nights watching Caleb Hammer on YouTube.
If you’re not familiar, Caleb Hammer does one-on-one financial advice sessions with troubled people, usually in their 20s or 30s. While some of the episodes focus on people from broken families in difficult situations, most of the guests seem pretty normal. They earn decent incomes and usually come from decent backgrounds. It’s not a show about the oppressed and the downtrodden. Rather, it’s a show about people who made and continue to make crappy decisions. People get themselves into student debt for low-paying degrees, put their money into Bitcoin, use payday lenders, and make the stupidest automobile purchases imaginable.
If you’ve listened to Dave Ramsey, you’’ recognize this format, except that Hammer’s sessions run for about an hour. This additional length allows Hammer to showcase the guest’s personality and reveal his or her day-to-day expenditures. Hammer prints out the interviewees’ credit and debit card statements, and questions their discretionary purchases. He chides his guests for unnecessary spending on entertainment, shopping, and so, so much eating out.
When Hammer reads these bank statements aloud, the guests find themselves shocked at how much money they waste. When he asks them to justify the purchases, many find themselves dumbfounded, while some craft flimsy post hoc excuses. On top of that: one explanation appears in nearly every episode: mental health. Hammer recommends therapy in the majority of episodes, and many of the guests cite their history of depression, anxiety, or similar ailments.
In some sense, “mental health” has become the socially acceptable omni-excuse. I’m reminded of the Kitsune in Japenese folklore. The creature possesses its victims and forces them to commit heinous acts, with one of the most common ones being marital infidelity. This myth provides a simple framework for forgiveness. If someone screws up, they can claim they can blame their actions on the Kitsune. The wronged party then moves their animus away from the human and towards the magical creature. And, hey, this isn’t a bad system! Maybe societies need some built-in for forgiving past mistakes. It’s not my ideal system, but “a magic fox made me do it” seems better than expensive litigation.
I don’t intend to dismiss the “mental” health excuse. It’s not as mythical as the Kitsune. These people are struggling with a real mental issue, though it’s not ones they name-drop in their interview with Hammer. Instead, I suspect these guests struggle with low impulse control. To explain this point, I’ll open up about the causes of one of my long-term, mental health ailments: Tick Tock Clock.
Gaming the System
My favorite childhood game was Super Mario 64. Upon re-visitation, I find the game unplayable. The controls and camera function poorly in comparison to modern 3D platformers, and the game delivers too much punishment for small mistakes. It also contains a “lives” system that should have died with the arcade.
Yet, I can still see what I loved about it. The game features fifteen main worlds alongside various tiny ones. The first thirteen worlds work well. Each allows the player to explore interesting locations themed around set pieces like volcanoes, shipwrecks, and haunted houses. On top of that, every world feels coherent. You could imagine wildlife crawling around Hazy Maze Cave or cacti growing around the pyramid in Shifting Sand Land.
Notice, though, that I singled out the first thirteen. Towards the game’s end, you’ll encounter the last two worlds: Tick Tock Clock and Rainbow Ride. Unlike the Mario 64’s earlier areas, these feature jumped messes of floating platforms. In contrast to the previous emphasis on exploration, these levels require precise 3D jumping that Nintendo wouldn’t master for another couple of generations. These levels suck, you die all the time, and they look stupid. I can vaguely imagine some fictional monarch constructing Whomp’s Fortress. Who heck would have built this, and why? Be specific.
Another favorite of mine was The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. You start this game as a child. After collecting three shiny things, you become an adult. Then, you collect 6 more shiny things to defeat the rather un-shiny Ganondorf to thwart his evil plans.
These games don’t have too much in common. Well, besides all the copied and pasted assets. What they do share is a certain amount of finality and close-endedness. Super Mario 64 rewards players with “stars” for completing various tasks. One can collect a total of 120, but you only need 70 to fight Bowser, rescue the princess, and get a shot of that sweet “THANK YOU” cake. Hence, you can ignore Tick Tock Clock and Rainbow Ride on your path to confectionary victory. If you opt to collect all 120, the game gifts you a trip to the top of the castle. There, you find Yoshi, who will grant you 99 lives. I know what you’re thinking: what’s the point of 99 lives when there’s nothing left to complete? The answer is… uh… well… let’s get to the other game. You can beat Ocarina of Time with the 9 shiny things, and it also includes optional, less-shiny collectibles like heart pieces and skull tokens.
There’s a bit too in both games, but neither one seems to push you towards 100% completion. I never completed either one as a kid and the games never seemed to tell me that I was missing out. I don’t even remember knowing about the 120 Star total in my youth. Even if I did, the games aren’t that big. According to How Long to Beat, a completionist run takes 20 hours in Super Mario 64 and 40 in Ocarina of Time. This varies on skill level. I played Super Mario 64 for way more than 20 hours as a kid and never scratched 110. Both games give you something to do, and don’t bother you if you want to skip the annoying parts.
Yes, games like this haven’t disappeared. Nintendo released several more 120-star Mario games, and various Zelda sequels have followed the “collect the shiny things” formula. Look, if you live in Hyrule, give Link all your shiny things. It will save you in the future. The indie scene has also added even smaller 2D platformers, like Celeste, back to the gamer’s menu. Still, I don’t get the sense that the modal gaming experience consists of these close-ended experiences. Consider the rise of online multiplayer. This wasn’t technologically possible in the old days. At best, you could play Mario Kart 64 with a couple of friends. When your buddies left, you’d either have to turn the game off or race against cheating computers who swap their karts for Formula One vehicles when they get too far behind. Today, gamers can head online and match against people all across the world. Ranking systems and timed events push you to log on as frequently as possible.
Even the single-player experiences are longer and more compulsive. The modern gaming landscape sees tons of RPG mechanics, like leveling up and skill trees, that reward people who put more hours into the game. Endless customizations further encourage multiple playthroughs. There’s also just…more. Recent critical darlings Baldur Gate’s 3 and Elden Ring will take just under 150 hours for 100% completion. Even those old Mario and Zelda games ballooned. One needed 60 hours to complete the duo of Mario 64 and Ocarina of Time while you’d need almost 300 to reach that same finality in the series’ latest entries. I don’t remember which game it was, but a friend was telling me about this computer-generated space game. An automated system produces quintillions of different planets, while a series of one-time events brings players to certain planets on certain days. It’s a de facto endless exploration experience. On top of that, we see games like Stardew Valley that keep people hooked for years on end. If the games themselves aren’t enough, the console maker will titillate you with achievements and trophies.
And that’s just what you see in good games! Consider the other nonsense out there: games-as-service, microtransactions, gambling mechanics, and all the addictive crap you can download on your phone. I understand, to some extent, that long-playtime games always existed. People played time-sucking RPGs on the NES, and old arcade-style games look like many of today’s popular mobile games. On average, though, I get the sense that more of today’s gaming takes place under compulsive circumstances. The modern experience tells you to stay on for the next level, the next achievement, the next event, or the next online rank. The older experience told you “We know Rainbow Ride sucks, but you only need 70 stars, so stop whining.” Sure, maybe I’m wrong about video games. I don’t have my pulse on the modern gaming landscape. I probably get this sense because everything else exploits our most impulsive instincts.
A Massless, Frictionless Casino
Technology is cool. One reason for this coolness is that it removes annoying friction. My dad was telling me about how much easier it is to transfer money and manage his financial accounts in the digital era. We can look up the weather, sports scores, and movie times without searching through a newspaper. I can’t even fathom how people drove before GPS technology. Without Google Maps, I’m pretty sure that, at some point, I would have taken a wrong turn and ended in Hawai’i. Substack itself has opened me to viewpoints, ideas, and information that I never would have seen in the days of paper and ink.
What many of us have started to realize, though, is that some of those frictions were good. In the old days, you consumed visual content by heading to a theater or watching a show at a specified time. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it kept your impulses in check. You couldn’t binge-watch, and you weren’t surrounded by an endless array of potential content. As I type this, I have a YouTube video in another tab where people are discussing some bullshit that I won’t remember in a week.
Speaking of visual content, every sports fan knows about the rise of gambling. I can’t even type the word f**tball without summoning a Draft Kings ad. Before the 2018 Supreme Court verdict, legal sports betting required physical movement into a physical casino. Today, every other National F**tball League commercial reminds you that you can bet on your phone. I’ve never touched these apps, but I assume that they also gamify it in a way that encourages you to wager (and lose) more and more.
Oh yeah, and the thing you expected me to talk about when read the words “Speaking of visual content:” porn. Have you ever looked up an old edition of Playboy or Hustler? They look like Clifford the Big Red Dog compared to what you find online today. And none of the women pictured in those magazines beckoned donations from lonely men
Then there’s a social media-induced FOMO. One of Caleb Hammer’s guests spent an obscene amount of money on Drake tickets, and she paid for an expensive makeup routine before the show. She didn’t mention social media, so I’m speculating in this particular case. I have to wonder, though, how much money people spend just to have pictures to show friends and strangers.
That’s just the digital world. Consider the most common source of wasted money on Caleb Hammer’s show: food. In the before times, you needed to cook food or spend time at a sit-down restaurant. In the fast food era, you’re surrounded by cheap and quick piles of fatty, carby, and salty junk. Heck, you don’t even need to leave your house anymore. Hammer often ridicules his guests for spending on delivery services like GrubHub.
Other retailers have mastered this art. Clothing stores warn the consumer against waiting. They promise now-or-never sales, even if upon closer inspection, “never” constitutes about half the calendar. In a recent innovation (to me, at least), stores will offer limited-time coupons after purchases. If you spend $100, you get $20 that must be spent in the next month. Spend that, and you’ll get another ephemeral $10 coupon. Crowd-funding sites like Gamefound and Kickstarter now dominate the board gaming space. These campaigns hook the buyer with act-now incentives, stretch goals, and aesthetic upgrades. People shell out hundreds for these projects, even though, when the game arrives three years later, it might not even hit the table.
Since I framed this article around a financial advice channel, I should probably mention the finance industry! In most episodes, Hammer stacks up all the debts that people have generated through a variety of sources. Most of these borrowers didn’t consider the long-term consequences of their actions. Credit Cards and Payday loans offer frictionless access to funds at insane interest rates. Loans for college degrees, automobiles, and even furniture offer numerous ways for the present self to screw over the future one.
I’m less certain about this next claim, but I suspect that changes to the modern economy disfavor the impulsive. Plenty of Hammer’s interviewees jump in and out of different jobs for stupid reasons. Maybe those factory-at-the-edge-of-town roles helped keep impulsive people on track. In the modern service economy, jobs often require a difficult degree of social and organizational maneuvering. You have to remain upbeat or stoic in front of customers or patients, while the steal mills don’t seem to care much about human personality. Getting more stable jobs might also require high impulse control. Academic success requires spending long hours on topics that might not interest you.
Persons Experiencing Impulsiveness
So, should I start the Low Impulse Control Rights Movement? Probably not. I’m reminded of all the pseudo-science surrounding implicit bias related to race, sex, religion, and other similar charismatics. During this whole discussion, I rarely saw much discussion about bias against the ugly. We've seen massive movements about race and sexuality, while few even pretend we can reduce discrimination against those with subpar faces. I don’t foresee such a movement since no one wants to be ugly. Similarly, I doubt anyone would want to self-identify as lacking impulse control. People will show pride for neutral traits, but not many want to advertise their faults.
Except, in this case, we have a similar social framework centered around flaws: “mental health.” These discussions center around the officially recognized mental disorder, which is why so many Hammer interviewees discuss depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder. Low impulse control doesn't fit into any of these boxes. Sure, maybe these guests suffer legitimate ailments. I’m not going to diagnose or undiagnosed anyone from behind a laptop screen. However, If their therapy discusses only the depression and not the lack of impulse control, it won't solve the financial woes.
Is low impulse control a mental disorder? Look, I'm generally not an “everything is a social construct” sort of guy. This thinking usually results in claims people say but don't believe. Postmodernism is the “women look better without makeup” philosophy. An intellectual may “queer” the categories of “healthy” and “unhealthy” during the day, but he won't go home to eat arsenic at night.
When it comes to of “mental health,” however, I’ll give a nod to the postmodernists. Even if all categories are made-up, mental health feels a bit bit made-upper. Imagine that we reset all human civilization. New civilizations would arise with new languages, cultures, and religions. I'm pretty confident that the more advanced societies would eventually stumble upon our concepts of cancer, the flu, and blindness. I'm less confident that their DSM-5 would rea like the one in our universe.
Even if we did allow “impulsiveness” into the mental disorder pantheon, I'm not sure what the next steps are. I think of the animal shelter, where we keep dogs locked in cages to prevent them from indulging in their own deepest desire. That's not a recipe for human flourishing. I don't have a policy prescription, and I don't care for empty rhetoric like “abolish capitalism” or “take personal responsibility.” At best, all I can say is “This is something we should think about.” Various writers have emphasized that people differ in their cognitive abilities, so we can't set policy under the assumption that everyone has equal smarts. At a minimum, we should hold the same understanding of impulsiveness. I try to avoid writing inconclusive articles. This time, unfortunately, I can’t help it.
This has made me think about cases where poor impulse control and symptoms of mental health issues are intertwined. For example, I've known a couple of people with bipolar disorder who have to keep a special lock on their credit cards, because " diastrously poor impulse control" is a symptom of mania. I've also, in depressed moments, spent irresponsibly from a place of having a worse-than-usual ability to engage with the future - when I can't access a feeling of caring what happens tomorrow, or next month, or next year, it's too easy to spend money I shouldn't. But I've also seen what you're describing, which is people treating irresponsible spending as a form of self-care, even getting defensive when it's suggested that it's not very, uh, careful.
I do think it's become too easy to blame impulsivity on these things and then treat it as immutable. If you have bipolar disorder, you maybe gotta have that lock on your credit card and someone in your life who will recognize when it needs to be activated. If you're prone toward depression, you have to be able to recognize that your short-term thinking is, in itself, a short-term problem. I think your post gets at a desire to have it both ways: To be able to lay one's impulsivity at the feet of something immutable, but in so doing, to deny one's own agency in preventing the same problem in the future.
Very interesting article! I’m reminded of a man I knew back in the 80s who loved gambling. He would introduce friction at the racetrack by taking cash only--no credit cards or ATM card. Once his cash was gone, he went home. (Or if he actually won anything, he’d take his wife out to dinner.) I always thought this was a smart way to handle it, and maybe our culture needs to raise kids with strategies for leashing their impulses to resist the frictionlessness of the online world.
Then again, it will be interesting to see whether Ozempic and other semaglutides makes this whole problem go away. People on the drug are seeing their addictive behaviors--not just around food, but also with gambling, shopping, drinking, etc--just vanish. I find it fascinating to think that much of this behavior, which we have always moralized, may be a simple matter of hormones.