A flinty look at a culture and economy based on the premise that there are points to be scored and dollars to be made by shaming people.
“Shame is a policing tool,” writes data scientist and mathematician O’Neil, “and it has been one since the first clans of humans roamed the savannas of Africa.” As a means of reinforcing taboos and social norms, shame has its uses. Yet, as O’Neil gamely writes, there’s a “shamescape” at work, “always brimming with opportunity.” If there’s a diet on the market, there’s a huckster out there to flog it, always playing on the shame of a person who believes they are heavier than what cultural and social norms consider acceptable. In one of O’Neil’s most unpleasantly pointed examples, she examines the whisper-of-shame subeconomy surrounding female genitalia and the horror that an odor might be detected. Lysol, she notes, was originally marketed in a campaign that “shamed half of humanity for the by-products of a functioning reproductive system” and was laced with chemicals that caused burns and even death. Our sexual organs, she writes, “generate profound fears and insecurities within us. Even in these more sexually liberated times we tend to envelop them in secrecy.” O’Neil takes a philosophical turn in her discussion of the acceptability of shaming, arriving at a standard whereby those who can do nothing about a condition should be shielded whereas those who might be able to adjust—incels, for one, who “are not hermetically sealed off from the rest of the world”—might understandably weather a few shame-based nudges to grow up. Whether it’s smoking in public, masking against Covid-19, or promulgating political lies, O’Neil allows room for shame while also urging readers always to “punch up” at the social and economic machine and its masters rather than down at the vulnerable.
A thoughtful blend of social and biological science, history, economics, and sometimes contrarian politics.