1 in 4 adults experience at least one diagnosable mental health problem in any one year, and one in six experiences this at any given time.
- The Office for National Statistics Psychiatric Morbidity report (2001)
For the purpose of this exercise, we shall call him Paleolithic Paul.
A little bit about Paul.
Paul was born in a hedge during, ooh, let's say the summer of 17,965 BC, to a berry-picker mother with headlice and a father who spends a lot of his time whacking the ground with the jawbone of a badger. He's in his 20's, has never shaved and has sired two children with a woman who is also 20,000 years from discovering the triple-blade razor. For the purpose of this exercise, we shall call her Pauline.
He's a technological wizard is our Paul. Only last week he fashioned a spiky-thing out of flint which he used to scrape the last remaining blood and guts from the skin of a hairy elephant. His cave is now decked-out with a posh looking rug. Paul is pleased. His fair-lady will be pleased. Paul is going to get some tonight.
Now, let's visualise Paul sitting there in his cave, looking pleased with himself. Pauline strolls in with the little tykes, a 'bowl' full of berries and the sun glinting attractively off the inch-long hair on her legs. Its a stone-age idyll. Beautiful.
In an evolutionary sense, Paul and Pauline are no different from you and I. They are 'modern humans'. Each has a body and brain that corresponds in physical terms to the body and brain we have now. The only real differences are environmental, cultural and historical influences. Paul's ability to create a scraping-flint and utilise it is not that different from a chap nowadays designing a computer and using it to surf the web. Each has used abstract thinking to view a problem and create a solution. Paul has extremely limited educational sources to create something new, whereas the fellow with the laptop is standing on the shoulders of giants. Mr 2010 has the advantage of magazines, blueprints, universities, readily-constructed materials and a zillion people in close-quarters doing a similar thing.
Anyway, cut back to the cave. Evening sets in and Paul is somewhat troubled. The stresses of Caveman life are weighing on his mind. He's wondering how well he'll wield his hunting stick after he hurt his thumb when finger-painting over a jagged bit of wall. He's also wondering how damp the firewood is after he accidentally urinated on it during the previous night when half-asleep. Pauline will go spare. Hence Paul preemptively sorting out a rug to try and keep her happy amongst the smokey fumes of burning, wee-soaked fuel.
Paul's pressures are not unfamiliar. His worries are based around provision, shelter, warmth and keeping his family happy. And this will have been the same story for countless individuals over the course of history. The human race has evolved with these pressures in mind. Therefore, we can understand how our minds and bodies evolved to manage these pressures. Simple, no?
Well, it would be simple if that were the end of the story.
For the purpose of this exercise, imagine that you are autonomous and all-powerful. You are the Genie in the lamp. You are the manager of Bill Gates' bank account. You can give these prehistoric Waltons whatever you think they need.
So let's start off with installing gas central heating and those little pipes that snake under your floor to keep your feet warm. Now, let's give the cave double-glazed windows, a secure front door with several locks for security, a nice wood-burning stove and a layer of super-fresco wallpaper over a freshly-skimmed plaster surface.
Paul is pleased. Paul now only has to flick a switch to be warm, and can hang the hairy-elephant-thing's skin on the wall for adornment as the floor is much toastier than a flea-ridden mat of pachyderm dreadlocks. He's also safe in the knowledge that sabre-toothed tigers are useless with lock-picks, and that he can slap as much red-ochre on the smooth walls as he fancies. His thumbs safe.
But let's not stop there. Let's follow the example of a modern-day credit-card wielder on a trip up Oxford Street and go bezerk.
Let's continue with sanitised, hot & cold running water. Paul is pleased at no longer having to walk to the river and occasionally get the shits whilst trying to rehydrate. Let's deck the family out in smart new clothes too. Paul is warm and comfortable. Now let's get a washing machine in to clean those clothes. Let's not forget the detergent. Paul is cleaner and more comfortable outside the cave and no longer smells of his own bottom most of the time. Let's build some roads and give the family a car. And let's create the car with a 25,000 mile service interval for the sakes of ease. Let's sort petrol stations and garages too, so that Paul can refuel and get the car fixed if needs be. Let's give them a phone. No, two phones. Okay, one each and a landline for posterity.
Paul is... grateful. But starting to get a bit twitchy at the new bills coming through the door. We tell Paul that its ok - the monetary system is yet to be devised, so he can pay us in berries and hunted-meat. If he goes out and whacks mammals for 8 hours a day, we'll accept it in-lieu of cash.
Paul is confused.
In the meantime, we introduce Pauline to cosmetics and handbags, the kids to games consoles and McDonalds food...
...The Internet. Futons. Watches. Microwave meals. Cameras. Loofahs. Mouthwash. Dado rails. Ornamental light fittings. Trainers with 'air' technology. Endowment mortgages. Paracetamol. Insurance services. Backgammon. Delhi counters. Advertising. TV gameshows. Sun Tan Lotion. Cigarettes. Supermarkets. Crockery. Politics...
And in our generosity we forget the fundamental fact that these folk aren't evolved do deal with this kind of thing.
And more poignantly, neither are we.
Paul takes a club to his head rather than deal with the new mass of pointless input. A little while later, so do we. In droves.
Our modern lifestyles are a fight between the emotional and conscious parts of our brain. We are able to - quite brilliantly - use our cognition to control less superficial parts of our personality. And in the process, we lose sight of what is right, what is wrong and what is good for us, things that are widely influenced by our emotional psyche. Each single facet of this western existence involves such mind-bending complexity and pressure that we are unfurling at the mental seams. Regardless of whether or not we know better, we do the things that are socially expected of us, or that fit within the cultural remit of success.
And with the loss of our moral consciousness, we're taking an abrupt turn in our evolutionary journey...
We're becoming less human. More electrical appliance.
Dee.
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