The Age of Addiction by David T. Courtwright
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This book was not quite what I was expecting. The stinger gave the impression that this was going to be a book primarily about modern compulsions (social media, gaming, fast food, etc.), and it is that, but also much more.
The first half of the book is a thumbnail history of tobacco, alcohol, gambling, sex work, sugar, drugs, and other "vices", contextualized with historical detail about the discovery, refinement, and industrialization of those vices, as well as the attempted regulation of the resulting industries. Only then does the book move on to the purely modern addictions, like scientifically designed food and deliberately addictive software.
Taken as a whole, the book is a fascinating history of what the author terms "limbic capitalism": industries that actively try to create addictive feedback loops for their customers and who rely on some number of customers developing an addictive relationship with their products and compulsively consuming them. Although he doesn't use this phrase, he makes a convincing case that these categories of goods and services are, in effect, a kind of market failure. Some people consume them and enjoy them, but a disproportionate share of the profits derive from a tiny slice of truly addicted people who compulsively consume the product or experience without real pleasure and with deeply compromised volition. Addiction may well be a "brain disease" and those addicted individuals who manage to quit one "vice," often wind up compulsively consuming a different one (e.g. the recovering alcoholic who switches to donuts and becomes obese).
He also highlights, at length, just how intense, effective, and long-lasting the marketing, lobbying, and public relations campaigns undertaken by addictive industries have been over the past hundred and fifty years. I was familiar, in a general way, with what the tobacco industry did, but I had no idea of the scope and contours of similar efforts undertaken by alcohol, gambling, sugar, and fast food companies, and that they all play from essentially the same PR playbook.
Perhaps the best thing about the book is that the author doesn't pretend to have clear-cut answers to the difficulties he identifies, and he's not afraid to "teach the controversy" where experts disagree about, for example, the brain-disease model of addiction. He does ultimately offer suggestions and directions he thinks are worth exploring, but with the recognition that they may prove inadequate. His final chapter, titled "Against Excess," could more profitably be titled, "The Case for Taxation and Regulation of Vice, and for Prohibition of Vice Marketing." And though it pains me to say it, he makes a pretty good case.
To be clear, I'm generally what the author would consider "pro-vice." I've always had a more or less libertarian and/or Thelemic view of the issue. In principle, if you're only harming yourself, I've been of the view that you should ideally be able to decide for yourself rather than the state deciding on your behalf. Of course, things that initially only harm oneself can, in the course of events, end up harming others, and at that point there's clearly a role for state intervention, but that's not how the battle lines have been drawn historically. I now wonder how many of my value feelings about these issues are really just the product of living in a culture permeated by what the author calls "pro-vice activism" on the part of billion dollar industries with a vested interest in avoiding regulation and creating addicts through generational marketing campaigns. That said, after reading this book, I'm not quite ready to do a complete "about face" on these issues, but, at minimum, I now feel differently about regulation of vice marketing (e.g. I used to resent the mandatory scare warnings on tobacco products, now I'm convinced they're probably a good idea.)
Overall, the book is well-written and thought provoking, with lots of cited sources in the footnotes. The author has a definite point of view that he's advancing, but he presents it in a sophisticated and generally convincing manner, although he does shade over into moralistic hand-wringing at times, which can be grating. My advice is to approach the book with an open mind and you'll find it rewarding, even if you don't ultimately agree with his conclusions.