Still no Brexit effect: a brief bulletin from the survey front

3 Nov

The laurels for being the happiest District in the UK have gone back up north, this time to Lancashire. Ribble Valley scored 8.3 on the ‘how happy did you feel yesterday?’ question posed by the Office for National Statistics in its 2018/19 survey. This compares with an average of 7.56 (out of 10) recorded for the country as a whole. 

Lying to the north of Manchester, Ribble Valley adjoins an area which contains a cluster of 19th century boom towns once famed for their cotton weaving. The District itself includes Clitheroe, parts of Blackburn, Burnley and Preston, and also the beautiful Forest of Bowland, as seen below. 

 

Bowland

 

The incessant whirr and clack of power looms is heard no more in the land. Nowadays Ribble Valley is better known for its tranquillity, work-life balance, and, it seems, for its excellent pubs and restaurants. The residents don’t have to settle for unrelieved rural bliss, either.  If they hop on a train they can be in the hotspots of Manchester in just over an hour. That’s having your barm cake and eating it, I’d say. 

Countrywide, the happiness scores relayed to us by the ONS showed little change from the year before.  Average happiness ratings increased from 7.52 to 7.56, while scores for the other measures of personal well-being – life satisfaction, feeling that the things done in life are worthwhile, and anxiety – remained much the same. Regionally, the one significant difference is that anxiety ratings in Northern Ireland – always in the past a statistically laid back country – went up from 2.53 to 2.83 (out of 10). This brought it into line with the other countries of the UK.

Since 2013 average life satisfaction in Britain has improved by 3.4%, with the largest improvement being recorded in London (4.6%). Over the same period, the UK average anxiety ratings improved by 5.3%, with the North West seeing the biggest improvement (9.7%) at regional level. See https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/wellbeing/bulletins/measuringnationalwellbeing/april2018tomarch2019

So Brexit is still not making us unhappy, or it wasn’t, up until the end of March this year. I’m  constantly reading things in the papers like ‘immense political stress’, ‘terrible uncertainty’, ‘restive Britain’. But so far the statistics belie this view of our national mood. Eight months is a long time in Brexitland, however, so once again we await developments.

I apologise for the dodgy link, but one district which succeeded in making me feel quite cheery at the beginning of October was London’s Regent’s Park. It is home to the annual Frieze Art Fair, and some of the bigger sculptures were on display in the Park (all for free). Here for your delight is a giant blackbird’s egg. It’s called ‘The Hatchling’ and was made by Joanna Rajkowska. When you press your ear to the real thing, you hear some baby blackbirds, breaking their way out. Go to https://letrangere.net/news/joanna-rajkowska-the-hatchling-frieze-sculpture-regents-park-london-3-july-6-october-2019/ for a recording. 

blackbird egg (2).jpg

Fear and trembling in Copenhagen

27 Sep

kierkegaard

Anxiety can be fearfully isolating. At its worst it’s a form of madness, cutting us off from all the seemingly normal people around us. ‘Oh I’m not a worrier’ … ‘What me, worry?’ … ‘No worries’.  Badges of honour flaunted by the superficially well-adjusted.

Some of these jaunty souls may be only pretending. Some may be ‘well-dissemblers of their woes’, like the friends of the young nobleman Amintor in Beaumont and Fletcher’s The Maid’s Tragedy. If so, they’d be doing everyone a favour if they occasionally came clean and admitted to the odd passing anxiety. ‘Would I knew it, for the rareness/Afflicts me now,’ the woebegone Amintor declares. It’s a cliché, but knowing we’re not alone can be enormously reassuring.

Confessing to anxiety might be good for the sufferer too, in more ways than one. Three years after the event, an acquaintance of mine who hails from Seattle still seems to feel the need to explain why he didn’t go home for his father’s funeral. ‘I’d seen him just a few months before,’ he insists, ‘what was the point of flying all that way when the old guy was already dead?’ A few days ago, facing the prospect of a trip to Australia, he confided in a whisper that he has a flying phobia. We’d probably all have thought better of him – including the sister who’s never spoken to him since – if he’d admitted to this a long time ago.

For those of us who worry about worrying, it’s comforting to be told by the nineteenth century Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard that everybody experiences anxiety and despair. ‘Just as a doctor might say that there probably isn’t a single human being who is completely healthy, so anyone who really knows humanity might say that there isn’t a single human who does not despair a little, who does not secretly harbour an unrest, an inner strife, a disharmony, an anxiety about an unknown something, or something that he does not dare to try to know.’ (The Sickness unto Death).

Kierkegaard can’t be accused of celebrating misery. But he did embrace the phenomenon as a necessary and inevitable part of the human condition. In the words of Clare Carlise, author of a new biography of Kierkegaard (Philosopher of the Heart: The Restless Life of Søren Kierkegaard, April 2019), ‘he believed that true peace and joy come from the depths of the human heart, which can be reached only by contending with life’s uncertainties’ (‘Is anxiety what makes us human? Why Kierkegaard is still relevant today,’ Prospect Magazine, April 2019; https://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/magazine/is-anxiety-what-makes-us-human-why-kierkegaard-is-still-relevant-today). The ‘nameless dread’ identified by Wilfred Bion (this blog, 12 November 2018) is probably felt at some point by most of humanity. According to Kierkegaard, we shouldn’t rush away from it, but accept and acknowledge it.

Kierkegaard spent most of his life in Copenhagen, a city which he believed to be steeped in spiritual complacency. His Danish compatriots were apparently not good at admitting to anxiety or despair. Instead, they buried these emotions beneath a heap of material and social distractions. ‘I’m far too busy – or far too rich – to be worried’. Clare Carlisle suggests that this may be the reason why the Danes are so obsessed with the concept of hygge (this blog, 10 September 2016), or ‘being cosy and nice’.

If we add together all the pleasurable moments we experience, Kierkegaard tells us, we won’t end up with a life of enduring satisfaction. Rather, it will be a life of endless distractions. Anxiety will out, it will seep in through the cracks. A prolific writer, Kierkegaard dissects this topic in some of his best-known works, including Fear and Trembling and Repetition. On 1st August 1835 he wrote in his journal:

What I really need is to get clear about what I must do, not what I must know, except insofar as knowledge must precede every act. What matters is to find a purpose, to see what it really is that God wills that I shall do; the crucial thing is to find a truth which is truth for me, to find the idea for which I am willing to live and die….Not until a man has inwardly understood himself and then sees the course he is to take does his life gain peace and meaning; only then is he free of that irksome, sinister travelling companion — that irony of life, which manifests itself in the sphere of knowledge and invites true knowing to begin with a not-knowing (Socrates) just as God created the world from nothing.

Understandably, he is often regarded as a precursor of modern existentialism; his writings influenced later twentieth century philosophers such as Heidegger, Sartre and above all Camus.

If anxiety is the converse of happiness – as two of the well-being questions asked by the Office for National Statistics imply (‘How happy did you feel yesterday?’ and ‘How anxious did you feel yesterday?’) –  then anxiety is an important issue for anyone who is interested in being happy. It’s certainly important for me … so in future blogs I’m going to be exploring in a little more detail the thinking of the nineteenth century philosopher who put worry at the forefront of his explorations of the human psyche.

It isn’t the economy, Stupid

7 Jun

Richard LayardAccording to Richard Layard, interviewed on Radio 4’s Today programme a couple of weeks ago (24 May), Bill Clinton was wrong. The economy isn’t what matters most to people when they vote. ‘We know, going back to 1970, what determines why governments get elected all over the world,’ Layard said. ‘People are satisfied with their lives for reasons other than the economy.’

I can’t imagine why I haven’t written about Layard before in this blog. An emeritus professor of economics at the Centre for Economic Performance at the LSE, and also a member of the House of Lords, he was one of the first people in the UK to discuss the policy implications of research into happiness. In his bio on the CEP website we’re told that, ‘Since the 1970s he has urged fellow economists to return to the 18th and 19th century idea that public policy should maximise a social welfare function depending on the distribution of happiness’ (http://cep.lse.ac.uk/_new/staff/person.asp?id=970). Layard’s 2005 book Happiness: Lessons from a New Science has been translated into twenty languages, and he’s one of the co-editors of the UN’s World Happiness Reports (this blog, 18 April ).

Layard believes that relative income has a significant effect on happiness levels, but he doesn’t regard this as the most crucial factor when people are making up their minds how to vote. Mental and physical health, followed by relationships at home, at work and in the community, are what people care about most. After that they begin to think about their income. A government is under a moral obligation to give people what matters to them, he told the Today interviewer – and it’s also in the government’s own interests to do this, as it will help it to get re-elected.

‘Mental health should be a top priority when it comes to NHS spending,’ Layard said. He wants an extra £4 billion to be spent on it, in addition to what’s currently being promised in the NHS spending review. This represents a 6% increase in real terms over the next five years; it would help break the logjam whereby mental health always lags way behind physical health in NHS spending plans. He also thinks that there should be a separate budget for mental health within the overall NHS budget.

In line with this thinking, Layard would like to see much more emphasis placed on mental health issues in schools. In South Australia, he told us, there are teachers who are specially trained to give classes in life skills, and that’s something we need in the UK as well. Plus an awareness of well-being should be built into training courses for all of our teachers.

Apprenticeships and increased spending on further education are among the items which Layard supports for the members of the post-school generation who are not going on to university: ‘they need to see a clear path ahead of them in life.’ And for all of us social connections are of course enormously  important. ‘Loneliness is a huge problem nowadays’, he said; and so the UK government needs to restore the cuts to youth clubs, and to centres for children and old people.

None of this is prohibitively expensive, Layard would argue. It’s more a question of governments getting their priorities right. And although all of these measures would undoubtedly cost money, I absolutely take his point that when it comes to cultivating well-being we need to concentrate more on social spending and less on enhancing personal incomes. The consistent top ranking of Scandinavian countries in the world happiness statistics, if nothing else, hammers home this point.

Layard is convinced that people will vote for governments which follow the course he’s recommending, and give people what matters to them. I can only hope – fervently – that he’s right about this.

 

 

Finland, Brexit, Trump … and the joys of reading

18 Apr

woman-reading-at-a-dressing-table-interieur-nice-1919In the UN’s World Happiness Report for 2019, published in March, Finland heads the field for the second year running. The UK has risen five places, from 19th to 15th – once again contradicting the view that no sane person can possibly be happy while contemplating Brexit. And the US has dropped from 18th to 19th, validating the equally entrenched conviction that Americans are bound to be getting more miserable under Donald Trump. 

The happiness report bases its rankings on six variables: income and GDP per capita; the freedom to make life choices; trust in government and perceptions of corruption; healthy life expectancy; social support; and generosity. As in previous years, the last 50 places in the list of 156 nations are mostly occupied by African and Asian countries. South Sudan, devastated by years of civil war, is at the bottom. Yemen, equally afflicted, is at 151. Eastern Europe is represented by Albania, at 107, and Ukraine, at 133. And the one South American country to appear in the last 50 is of course strife-torn Venezuela, at 108.

As usual Scandinavian countries dominate the top ten. Denmark is 2nd, Norway 3rd, and Iceland 4th. Ireland and Germany are just below the UK, at 16 and 17. And the two countries which always surprise us by being apparently less happy than Britain are still ranked lower: France is at 24 and Italy at 36. 

(For the full list, see https://worldhappiness.report/ed/2019/changing-world-happiness/). 

I’ve already rejected the notion  (this blog, 9 June 2018) that climate considerations are the mainspring of Scandinavian happiness. It still seems to me much more likely that relative prosperity and economic equality – involving high taxes and adequate safety nets provided by the state – are the key to 21st century happiness. But as Rachel Kelly points out in The Observer (24 March) money isn’t everything. The report also recognises that freedom, generosity, and support from social networks all make a difference. 

This may give rise to a belief in the possibility of personal change. Kelly is sure that individual happiness levels aren’t fixed. Her own experience of combating major depressive episodes has convinced her that we all have an ability to cultivate happiness.  She doesn’t want to rule out medication and cognitive behavioural therapy, the NHS’s main approaches to the treatment of mental illness. These do have a part to play, she says. But she also thinks that a sense of one’s own agency is very important. 

‘I have found that while thinking often makes me sad, doing rarely does. A sense of my own autonomy was essential to getting better. .. Simple daily acts such as paying proper attention when someone talks to you can transform how generous we are to others – and how happy we feel. Equally, there is much that we can do to increase our sense of social support: even light-touch socialising can boost our mood.’

Kelly’s strategies for remaining calm and well include bibliotherapy – the use of planned reading programmes to help people overcome anxiety and emotional disorders. This technique, I learn, has been employed in hospitals since the early years of the twentieth century.  It can be deeply serious. According to The Online Dictionary for Library and Information Science (https://www.abc-clio.com/ODLIS/odlis_b.aspx), Ideally, the process occurs in three phases: personal identification of the reader with a particular character in the recommended work, resulting in psychological catharsis, which leads to rational insight concerning the relevance of the solution suggested in the text to the reader’s own experience. Assistance of a trained psychotherapist is advised.’ 

For most of us, however, it may be enough just to pick up a book when we’re feeling sad or stressed, and let our engagement with a world beyond our own lead us away from anguish. Personally I find it a very effective way of  soothing the mind. And who knows? – it may even help us to cope a bit better with Brexit. 

For earlier posts on Finland and on Brexit, see 9 June 2018; and 13 and 12 January 2019, 10 October 2018, and 4 October, 2017. 

 

 

 

 

When we’re 64

2 Mar

Men and women in the UK are still officially at their happiest when they reach the fabled age of 70 – and from 64 onward they’re gradually building up to it. A study of the Office for National Statistics’ wellbeing data for the years 2010-17 (the entire input since the surveys began) has confirmed what the individual annual reports have already indicated (see this blog, Feb 2016 ): it’s worth hanging in there till you’re in your late 60s, because for most people life gets so much better then.  With any luck the kids have left home,  you’re probably working fewer hours,  you need less money, and you may even have learnt a thing or two about how to live. 

old lady southwark

David Cameron, when he introduced the happiness surveys in 2010, remarked, ‘There’s more to life than money. It’s time we focussed not just on GDP but on GWB – general wellbeing.’

Easy to say that, of course, when you’re so wealthy you can afford to shell out for a glorified shed a sum (£25,000) which exceeds many people’s annual income. George Bangham – a policy analyst with the Resolution Foundation, the thinktank which carried out the study – provides a useful corrective. The quest for wellbeing, he says, ‘should complement, rather than replace, priorities such as income redistribution, better jobs and secure housing. The data shows that there’s more to life than a country’s GDP, but that the employment and income trends that lie behind our economy can make a big difference to our wellbeing too.’  (Guardian, 13 Feb 2019)

OR as Aristotle told us over two thousand years ago (this blog, February 2019), ‘flourishing’, or eudaimonia, requires an effort of the human will –  and it isn’t necessarily easy to achieve it if you haven’t got sufficient money or power. 

Our duty to be grumpy

5 Feb

Christopher Kaczor’s assertion that we’re under a moral obligation to be happy really got up my nose (this blog, 1 Feb 2019). But as usual, when I explored a bit further, I had some second thoughts. Kaczor argues that our emotions have an effect on other people, so when we’re down people around us are more likely to get down as well. Everyone we meet might be a bit better off if we were only prepared to work on our individual happiness. 

This made sense to me.  Picture an evening in February. It’s pouring with rain, and I’m stumbling into Tesco’s while trying to wrestle my umbrella into a manageable shape. Someone pushes past me and snarls. I’m already feeling quite low – I’m struggling with an article I’m writing, Camden Council is digging up all the roads round our way, just getting to the shops takes quite an effort, that rude git has just knocked me out of his path – so now I definitely want to go home and shoot myself. If only the git had been kinder – if only everyone I came across were far less grumpy and whiny and selfish –  then maybe I wouldn’t right now be sinking into the existential morass …

Or vice versa, of course. If I’d been a bit more pleasant myself then perhaps the other shopper might be smiling now instead of snarling. Maybe what the world needs after all is a whole load of people who are trying their hardest to be happy … 

On reflection, I think what I want is just for people to be a bit kinder to each other, rather than being happy.  Insisting on the latter seems to me to take us into the territory of the happiness Czars, like the ones who are apparently running Pret a Manger at the moment (this blog, 1 August 2018).

Jeremy HardyI was thinking about all of this when I heard the news that Jeremy Hardy had just died, at the desperately early age of 57. Hardy wouldn’t have achieved anything if he’d concentrated on being cheerful and upbeat all of the time. Being grumpy and whiny and angry were his hallmarks as a comedian and political activist. (And God knows, there’s a lot to be angry about: I’ve just been reading about Shoshana Zuboff’s new book The Age of Surveillance Capitalism, which tells us that the activities of the big tech companies are far far worse than we even imagined.)  But everyone who knew Hardy says that he was an extremely kind and generous man. That’s vital, it seems to me. Being kind on the personal level, and grumpy and challenging in the public arena, that’s maybe the way to go. And trying not to worry too much about being happy as well. 

As a mere listener – someone who enjoyed and profited from his wonderful political rants – I’m going to miss Jeremy Hardy enormously. 

 

Aristotle meets the Dalai Lama

1 Feb

Aristotle-Face1 Dalai Lama 2

Generally speaking, in spite of the fuss we make about its onset, January is not a month for happiness. Personally I’m not sorry it’s over. However, its early stages are often marked by discourses on the happiness theme, and one of them was provided by Mark Tully in Something Understood, broadcast on BBC Radio 4 on January 6. This is the date when Christians celebrate the festival of the epiphany – meaning revelation or ‘bringing to the light’.

According to Tully the Dalai Lama (not himself a Christian, of course) believes that  the purpose of our life is to seek happiness – that the whole motion of our life is towards it. But is this a reasonable goal? Yes, the Dalai Lama replies. We can attain happiness by training our minds. Inner discipline helps us to transform our attitudes – our approach to living. We need to identify the factors in our lives that lead to happiness and those that lead to suffering, and then gradually eliminate the latter, and cultivate the former. 

Although I’m not in general a fan of the ‘pursuit of happiness’ idea, I’m really not disagreeing with any of this. I do want to be happy, and unlike some of the friends I talk to I believe that happiness is something we can work at. Some people have made the decision not to aim at happiness, and I respect them for this – it’s a reasonable and I think in some ways a moral point of view.  But most of us seek it, and this is probably a necessary thing, and possibly even a good one, provided it doesn’t lead to complacency (which I suspect is not something we can accuse the Dalai Lama of). But I do feel strongly that the pursuit of happiness is a personal endeavour – a product of the principle of individualism – and that it isn’t going to change the world. As a species we might even be better off without it. 

One reason why I’m inclined to favour the Dalai Lama’s views is that they seem to be quite close to those of Aristotle, although I do find Aristotle a bit more convincing. In the Nicomachean Ethics the philosopher argues that what distinguishes us humans from other animals is that we have a rational soul: our capacity to guide ourselves by using reason is our distinguishing feature – our ‘telos’ or end. So if we use our reason well, we are living well as human beings, and this is what our happiness (our ‘eudaimonia’) consists of.  Living well means doing something, not just being in a particular condition – it means pursuing those lifelong activities which will satisfy the rational part of our being. But Aristotle also makes it clear that in order to be happy we need other things as well – such as friends, money, and political power –  because our capacity to live in accordance with reason will be diminished if we lack these advantages.

“This gives rise to the question, can happiness be learnt, or acquired by training? … or is it bestowed by some divine dispensation or even by fortune?  Well, if anything that humans have is a gift from the gods, it is reasonable to suppose that happiness is divinely given … Still, even if happiness isn’t sent to us from heaven, but is gained by virtue and by some kind of study or practice, it does nevertheless seem to be one of the most divine things that exists.”    

(Nicomachean Ethics 1097b-1099b ). 

Does this mean that we also have a duty to be happy, as one of Tully’s other contributors – theologian Christopher Kaczor – was arguing? I’m afraid that it might, but for the time being I’m resisting the idea.  When you’re feeling depressed, the last thing you need is someone standing over you, saying, ‘Come on, snap out of it! You’re under a moral obligation to be happy, don’t you realise that?’ This approach, I find, isn’t remotely helpful. 

 

Brexit … and happiness

13 Jan

dominic-cummings-benedict-cumberbatch-brexit

I’ve never wanted to use this blog as a repository for banal ‘oh and here’s another thing that makes me happy’ observations. And I certainly wouldn’t want, God forbid, to suggest that Brexit is an issue that has made me happy. But one thing the current furor has managed to achieve is a 1000-fold increase in my interest in political debate and – mirabile dictu – parliamentary procedure.

And to break my blog-rule just this once, as an ingredient for my personal happiness there’s nothing to beat a good drama. James Graham is one of my favourite playwrights, and his piece Brexit – the Uncivil War, which aired last Monday on Channel 4, was very good. It featured Benedict Cumberbatch (above right) as Dominic Cummings, the campaign director of Vote Leave (above left). 

I have many thoughts about the extent to which it’s permissible to tinker with history in a political play (remembering here that everything that happened up to about five minutes ago is history). I won’t go into that now, but I tend to be quite hard line: if you want to alter the facts, then why don’t you just invent your own bloody story instead of filching one from history? But a bit of information gleaned from a review of the Graham play has made me think again. Perhaps every political play should be allowed one completely made-up meeting between important characters. In Schiller’s Mary Stuart it’s a meeting between Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots that never happened. Peter Morgan’s Frost/Nixon has, not exactly a meeting, but a late-night phone-call in which Richard Nixon admits his guilt to David Frost. And in Brexit – the Uncivil War a climactic encounter in a pub between Cummings and the spin doctor and Remain campaigner Craig Oliver is, I now learn, entirely fictional. 

Just one, mind. That’s my maximum. I’ve already broken two of my rules in this blog, and the rot has to stop somewhere. 

Happy old year

12 Jan

2019 is well under way, and it’s high time I reported on the UK happiness stats for April 2017 to March 2018, which were published last September by the Office of National Statistics. There’s nothing to get hugely excited about, however. The averages remain the same as the ones for 2017/16. ‘How happy yesterday?’ stays at 7.5, ‘how anxious’ is at 2.9, life satisfaction 7.7 and ‘things you do in your life worthwhile’ is at 7.9.

Northern Ireland remains the happiest of the countries making up the UK, in spite of having no sitting parliament and being in the front line of political skirmishing for quite some time now. And Rushmoor in Hampshire has overtaken Craven in North Yorkshire as our happiest district – ialdershot buddhist centrets ‘happy yesterday?’ rating shot up from 7.8 to 8.4. One of the towns in the Rushmoor district is Aldershot, which has a large training camp on its fringes and advertises itself as ‘the Home of the British Army’. It seems laughable to some of us that  it should be the happiest town in Britain, but that’s just prejudice – I have to admit that I’ve never actually been there. It’s an affluent area, and that probably helps. But more intriguing is the information that Aldershot has the largest Nepalese population and the largest Buddhist community in the UK. Surely that in itself contributes to its happiness quotient?

So … by the end of March 2018 our Brexit woes Aldershotmilitarytown.jpghadn’t apparently had any impact at all on our happiness scores. We do have to bear in mind of course that the majority of people in the UK voted in favour of Brexit, so by no means everyone is pissed off by it (something that we Remainers are often inclined to forget – democracy is OK as long as it’s going your way). Still, a lot has happened in the last nine months, so we’ll just have to wait to see what the crop of statistics for 2019 yields. 

Happiness and the craving for knowledge

12 Nov

Last week I came across a new word that I love – epistemophilia.  It was employed by psychoanalysts Sigmund Freud and Melanie Klein, and although it means basically ‘love of knowledge’ it isn’t necessarily a positive term. 

Klein’s student Wilfred Bion in particular developed the use of the word.  He saw the drive to know as essential to our psychic health. If we find someone, generally in early life, who is willing and able to contain the unbearable feelings which we all experience as infants,  and hand them back to us in a manageable form, then we can generally learn to control those feelings ourselves. In the process we acquire knowledge about ourselves and our interactions with the outside world. We become able to think.

But if we fail to find anyone who fulfils this function, an inability to know can result, and we may suffer from an uncontained ‘nameless dread’.  In later life some of us feel the urge to displace this dread by filling ourselves up with intellectual content.  This version of epistemophilia may make us feel a bit more secure for a while, but we’ll find as time goes on that we need more and more of the stuff.  Hence the desperate and indiscriminate craving for knowledge which I mentioned in my earlier blog (October 15).

readingIncidentally, while searching for a picture to illustrate this piece, I googled ‘reading’.  Most of the images that came up were of women, children and animals (teddy bears and Snoopy do love to read, apparently). When I googled ‘looking at computer screens’, most of the images that came up were of men. This bloke on the left is an exception, perhaps because he isn’t just curling up with a book – he’s really getting on top of  this reading business. He may, indeed, be suffering from epistemophilia. 

Sexual stereotyping is alive and well, it seems. In fact, it could be getting worse.