Carbon taxes and mental health

The beautiful thing about mid-term elections in the USA is that apart from the “main elections” for senators, congresspersons and governors, there were also votes on “auxiliary issues” – referenda, basically, on issues such as legalisation of marijuana.

One such issue that went to the polls was in Washington State, where there was a proposal for imposition of carbon taxes, which sought to tax carbon dioxide emissions at $15 a tonne. The voters rejected the proposal, with the proposal getting only 44% of the polled votes in favour.

The defeat meant that another attempt at pricing in environmental costs, which could have offered significant benefits to ordinary people in terms of superior mental health, went down the drain.

Chapter 11 of Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life is both the best and the worst chapter of the book. It is the best for the reasons I’ve mentioned in this blog post earlier – about its discussions of risk, and about relationships and marriage in the United States. It is the worst because Peterson unnecessarily lengthens the chapter by using it to put forward his own views on several controversial issues – such as political correctness and masculinity – issues which only have a tenuous relationship with the meat of the chapter, and which only give an opportunity for Peterson’s zillion critics to downplay the book.

Among all these unnecessary digressions in Chapter Eleven, one stood out, possibly because of the strength of the argument and my own relationship with it – Peterson bullshits climate change and environmentalism, claiming that it only seeks to worsen the mental health of ordinary people. As a clinical psychologist, he can be trusted to tell us what affects people’s mental health. However, dismissing something just because it affects people negatively is wrong.

The reason environmentalism and climate change play a negative impact on people’s mental health, in my opinion, is that there is no market based pricing in these aspects. From childhood, we are told that we should “not waste water” or “not cut trees”, because activities like this will have an adverse effect on the environment.

Such arguments are always moral, about telling people to think of their descendants and the impact it will have. The reason these arguments are hard to make is because they need to persuade people to act contrary to their self-interest. For example, one may ask me to forego my self-interest of the enjoyment in bursting fireworks in favour of better air quality (which I may not necessarily care about). Someone else might ask me to forego my self-interest of a long shower, because of “water shortages”.

And this imposition of moral arguments that make us undertake activities that violate our self-interset is what imposes a mental cost. We are fundamentally selfish creatures, only indulging in activities that benefit us (either immediately or much later). And when people force us to think outside this self-interest, it comes with the cost of increased mental strain, which is reason enough for Jordan Peterson to bullshit environmentalism itself.

If you think about this, the reason we need to use moral arguments and make people act against their self-interest for environmental causes is because the market system fails in these cases. If we were able to put a price on environmental costs of activities, and make entities that indulge in such activities pay these costs, then the moral argument could be replaced by a price argument, and our natural self-interest maximising selves would get aligned with what is good for the world.

And while narrowly concerned with the issue of climate change and global warming, carbon taxes are one way to internalise the externality of environmental damage of our activities. And by putting a price on it, it means that we don’t need to think in terms of our everyday activities and thus saves us a “mental cost”. And this can lead to superior overall mental health.

In that sense, the rejection of the carbon tax proposal in Washington State is a regressive move.

Mental health triggers

My ADHD seems to have become much worse over the last couple of days. Like this morning I had this episode where I couldn’t decide whether to go back home to get an umbrella, and thus turned around twice while I was in the middle of crossing a road.

In part, I blame this on having just read a book on ADHD – the second such book I’ve read in the last week (I found this book from the bibliography of previous one). While this book told me the impact of ADHD on relationships, and helped me understand what someone married to someone with ADHD goes through, in the course of doing so it reminded me of all the problems that one faces when you have ADHD.

So in some way, as I read through and “revised” the list of problems that one has with ADHD, all these problems have started surfacing (more likely I have noticed these issues every time they’ve come up). And this has led to a positive feedback loop, and thus much shorter attention spans and massive distractions and even mild addiction (to online chess).

This is not an isolated incident. In the past as well, when I’ve read material related to mental health problems that have affected me as well, the precise problem gets triggered. So when I read some stuff about depression, I’m likely to have a depressive episode after that. Similar with anxiety.

Interestingly, there is no impact when I read something related to a problem that I myself have never faced – like I once started reading Siddhartha Mukherjee’s essay on bipolar disorder and it had no effect whatsoever on me.

It wasn’t always this way. Long back, before I got diagnosed, reading stuff about mental health issues which I later got diagnosed with would make me feel hopeful – hopeful perhaps that there was in fact a diagnosis for what I was going through and it wasn’t simply “laziness” or “ineptitude” on my part that was causing me all that I was going through. But once I got the diagnosis, and figured out lifestyle changes to deal with my issues, reading more has only triggered the respective issue.

I guess the solution for this is simple – unless absolutely necessary (say there is a specific issue for which I seek help on) I shouldn’t read stuff about mental health issues that I might be facing.

I won’t spare you, though – here is an essay about ADHD that I had written three years ago (which I dug up after a conversation on ADHD with a friend yesterday).

 

Discrete and continuous diseases

Some three years or so back I got diagnosed with ADHD, and put on a course of Methylphenidate. The drug worked, made me feel significantly better and more productive, and I was happy that a problem that should have been diagnosed at least a decade earlier had finally been diagnosed.

Yet, there were people telling me that there was nothing particularly wrong with me, and how everyone goes through what are the common symptoms of ADHD. It is a fact that if you go through the ADHD questionnaire (not linking to it here), there is a high probability of error of commission. If you believer you have it, you can will yourself into answering such that the test indicates that you have it.

Combine this with the claim that there is heavy error of commission in terms of diagnosis and drugging (claims are that some 10% of American kids are on Methylphenidate) and it can spook you, and question if your diagnosis is correct. It doesn’t help matters that there is no objective diagnostic test to detect ADHD.

And then your read articles such as this one, which talks about ADHD in kids in Mumbai. And this spooks you out from the other direction. Looking at some of the cases mentioned here, you realise yours is nowhere as bad, and you start wondering if you suffer from the same condition as some of the people mentioned in the piece.

The thing with a condition such as ADHD is that it is a “continuous” disease, in that it occurs in different people to varying degrees. So if you ask a question like “does this person have ADHD” it is very hard to give a straightforward binary answer, because by some definitions, “everyone has ADHD” and by some others, where you compare people to the likes of the girl mentioned in the Mid-day piece (linked above), practically no one has ADHD.

Treatment also differs accordingly. Back when I was taking the medication, I used to take about 10mg of Methylphenidate per day. A friend, who is also on Methylphenidate and of a comparable dosage, informs me that there are people who are on the same drug at a dosage that is several orders of magnitude higher. In that sense, the medical profession has figured out the continuous nature of the problem and learnt to treat it accordingly (a “bug”, however, is that it is hard to determine optimal dosage first up, and it is done through a trial and error process).

The problem is that we are used to binary classification of conditions – you either have a cold or you don’t. You have a fever or you don’t (though arguably once you have a fever, you can have a fever to different degrees). You have typhoid or you don’t. And so forth.

So coming from this binary prior of classifying diseases, continuous diseases such as ADHD are hard to fathom for some people. And that leads to claims of both over and under medication, and it makes clinical research also pretty hard.

Do I have ADHD? Again it’s hard to give a binary answer to that. It depends on where you want to draw the line.