Abstract
In this book, Peter Fleming introduces us to the ways in which homo economicus as a construction of the neoclassical economic project has fallen apart today. Referred to as the rational, self-interested economic body and dollar-hunting animal (p. 98), Fleming argues, post 2008 financial crisis, there is no longer any place for the homo economicus at all. Except for the wealthy, the 1%, homo economicus (as we know him or her) is not capable of following his or her interests any more. In the fantasy and disillusion of rationality and efficiency, ‘homo economicus finds him or herself at the end of the shit chain and is now practically drowning in the stuff’ (p. 6). Fleming claims that ‘extreme capitalism is primarily for those without capital, while the political and financial elite enjoy a softer socialistic existence in which homo economicus would seem out of place and unwelcome’ (p. 99). As examples of being unwelcome or incapable to survive in the new dark ages, each chapter presents stories of homo economicus dying from loss of social connection, suicide as a way of escape, or overwork. In some other cases, we are told about homo economicus going nuts at work, or protesting, or even killing out of anger. Although they may seem marginal, when brought together, these cases in fact demonstrate that there is a pattern related to neoliberalism’s ‘worst excesses rolling back through’ (p. 3) our societies, and the book successfully addresses how such excesses become normalised in the Zeitgeist of post 2008.
Throughout the book, you cannot help but feel the atmosphere of a dystopian fiction novel. Yet, what is more disturbing is that this is reality, which Peter Fleming captures eloquently with the help of innumerable news articles, reports, research and official statistics. Among the recurring themes and metaphors related to work, life and economy that Fleming analyses, I would choose ‘new dark ages’ as representative: ‘[A] new dark age appears imminent, in which corporate fiefdoms and global plutocrats preside over an increasingly disenfranchised transnational population and dying natural environment’ (p. 21). Amidst technological and scientific progress, he shows us how homo economicus is stuck within a (post)neoliberal shuffle of society that is similar to the feudal ages – no welfare, no social support, no public, no mobility, no future, no mercy. Instead, we are exposed to the darkest reality, that of death: death of pensioners, death of interns, death of activists and, ultimately, death of society. After reading the book, I am not surprised that Fleming chose such a title – in a completely different way compared to behavioural economists arguing the limits of the rational man. In the backwash of an economic and social crisis, which the author metaphorically portrays as a destructive receding tsunami, it seems that homo economicus has no option but to die, if he or she is not to struggle to live with a significant amount of debt, unreliable zero-hour contracts and bullshit jobs while still dreaming of an escape.
The book comprises six chapters in addition to introduction and conclusion sections. Each chapter has its own broad theme: normalisation of crisis in the form of wreckage economics (chapters 1–2), destruction of the homo economicus through debt and insecurity (chapter 3), meaning(lessness) of work (chapter 4), human capital theory and its presentation (chapter 5) and the limits/lack of resistance today (chapter 6). While it is not possible to summarise each chapter within the limits of this review, it is fair to say that he presents a wide repertoire of issues and public debates to engage with including, but not limited to, techno-optimists, commercialisation of informal economy, high and unfair executive pay, creation of oligarchs through privatisation, responsibilisation and individualisation process of gig economies, work becoming simply a ceremony, fantasies of escape and institutionalisation of instrumental rationality. The writing feels deceptively light in its touch, jumping from analysis of one topic to another in each chapter, which risks some repetition. Nevertheless, as Fleming uncovers the false promises behind glossy concepts, such as Mason’s postcapitalism, behavioural economics, sharing economy and human capital theory, overall, the book emerges as a forceful critique of the current phase of neoliberal capitalism which is killing us through work.
The way Fleming counter-argues taken-for-granted or mainstream assumptions about the markets and work is very enjoyable. For instance, in order to debunk the role of the highly paid (so-called) experts outperforming in the stock market and demonstrate the role of randomness, Fleming shares the results of research demonstrating hypothetically that if 10 million monkeys play the stock market, even they would produce a significant amount of terminal wealth value (p. 111). He also uses striking figures to make sense of wreckage economics and its winners – for instance, the 80% increase in executive pay in the last 10 years, despite little or no relationship between the performance of the businesses and the pay (p. 22), or how gig economy is becoming a norm given that ‘in the UK self-employed workforce has grown 45% since 2001, standing at almost 5 million workers’ (p. 185). Along with these facts, Fleming refers to various popular representations of work and economy, from ‘arbeit macht frei’ to commando capitalism, from Marx at KFC to sugar daddies, mobilising a dark humorous language to interrogate the ideals and standards set by a self-appointed ideology of neoclassical economics. Still, though, it does little to alleviate the feeling of despair and lack of hope for the homo economicus who would simply like to have a decent life.
The book can be taken as a refined and well-analysed demonstration of how (post)neoliberal ideology as an economic and political project commercialises our misfortunes in the case of work (e.g. uberisation, precariatisation and (un)happiness industry) and accumulation (e.g. tax evasion and capturing of state funds by businesses without producing any service or products), while a lack of (collective) agency challenging these mechanisms reduces us to a state of inability (e.g. resistance as a fantasy of escape, but where to?). In other words, I argue that this book is about economisation and occupation of our lives and bodies by capital, which sucks all of our energy and turns it into profit for itself. This is the dark age we live in, an age in which social needs are totally neglected, the idea of the collective has become a curse and ‘utility without purpose and a spiralling value-of-nothing myopia drives mainstream business models and much of its consumer culture’ (pp. 264–265).
Readers from all sorts of background would find value in the book either as a documentation of the new dark ages or as a call for collective action. While it is not written in the form of an academic text, Fleming often draws arguments or concepts from critical scholars such as Derrida, Foucault, Agamben, Hardt, Negri and others. Cognisant readers will easily note the underlying powerful analysis of political economy and the book can be read as a companion on the subject along with Moore’s (2015) Capitalism in the Web of Life (which Fleming also refers to) and Harvey’s (2017) last book, Marx and Capital and the Madness of Economic Reason. It can also be considered as a very good teaching resource for courses which aim to address current social and economic issues from a management and organisation perspective.
Although Fleming differentiates pre and post crisis, one can argue that the book is simply about the neoliberal phase of capitalism, which has become more violent, authoritarian and vulgar recently. Hence, perhaps, what we see behind the death of homo economicus is more the intensification of exploitation and appropriation of humans, as well as the natural environment. What I also missed in the author’s treatment was further elaboration about the potential of resistance in these grim circumstances. Although there are some sparks of such debate in relation to the discussion around Hardt and Negri’s exodus and exit strategies (chapter 6) in addition to calls here and there for collective ownership/action or de-privatisation, the book made me wonder whether there is any hope of dispelling this new darkness that has settled upon us without falling into the hopeless ‘black hole of individual escape’ (p. 247). It would be totally unfair to expect a recipe, yet after being exposed to such darkness and death, I hoped to see some light or potential signs of change.
It was very interesting to read this book (written by a New Zealand–born migrant scholar living in the United Kingdom) as a migrant scholar, who comes from Turkey and presently is living in Aotearoa New Zealand. Apparently, we witness how the neoliberal projects in these countries have killed the ideas of ‘public’ and ‘homo economicus’ in a similar fashion and are moving towards confluence in a darker and bleaker future globally. Therefore, I read the book as a call to action, in our case, for academics. It is not unknown to many that universities are also part of the wreckage economics now and homo academicus must strive to survive in the production and performance-obsessed academia without compromising the ideals of scholarship. Hence, the question is how we can find new and alternative ways to contribute to/work with/become part of progressive collective struggles and broaden the sites of struggle against the current phase of neoliberal capitalism through our teaching, research and service. Arguably, such a redefinition of scholarship is not an option any more given the scope of the issues Fleming addresses. Perhaps practising an activist academy is the only way we can build, or at least be part of, a new equitable, fair and just society, one concerned with Mother Earth, in which our kids and future generations will flourish.
