Capitalism as Contagion: Burnout Syndrome in Ling Ma’s Severance and Brett Easton Ellis’ American Psycho
In his 2010 work, The Burnout Society, Byung-Chul Han boldly asserts that “despite widespread fear of an influenza epidemic, we are not living in a viral age… the incipient twenty-first century is determined neither by bacteria nor by viruses, but by neurons.” For him, the primary afflictions of the current era are neurological conditions such as depression, borderline personality disorder and ADHD. Han posits that these “infarctions” are the result of our neoliberal leistungsgesellschaft, wherein a culture of excess positivity encourages over-work and self-exploitation, rather than any external contagion. Though this framework captures the pressures and detriments of neoliberalism on the individual, Han’s dismissal of viral threats, materially and metaphorically, ignores the economic dynamics that perpetuates their existence in a globalised capitalist system. Perhaps most damning to Han’s point is the COVID-19 pandemic. Political economist Akram-Lodhi blames the “globalised, profit-driven, meat-centered capitalist world foodsystem” (Akram-Lodhi) for the conception and spread of the virus, establishing the contemporary relevance of pathogenic diseases. Moreover, capitalist systems exacerbate the spread of such diseases by prioritising profit over healthcare and social welfare, disproportionately affecting marginalised communities. Thus neoliberal capitalism allows both physical and mental disease to fester, challenging Han’s purely neuronal outlook.Ling Ma’s Severance bridges the gap between the internally generated “burnout syndrome” (Han 10) described by Han and the enduring presence of physical infection through an imagined pandemic, which predates COVID-19 yet closely mirrors it as Ma recognises the leistungsgesellschaft’s role in augmenting both mental and physical diseases through the exploitation of the global South. Shen Fever, a fictitious fungal infection that renders sufferers “creatures of habit, mimicking old routines and gestures they must have inhabited for years” (Ma 25) with supposedly no consciousness behind their actions until they drop dead from exhaustion, realises Han’s contemplation on whether the “motorization would resemble a biological mutation” (Han 26) to an observer and embodies burnout syndrome in its most extreme form. Though not herself fevered, Severance’s Chinese-American immigrant protagonist Candace Chen also exemplifies the neoliberal “animal laborans that exploits itself—and it does so voluntarily, without external constraints” (Han 19) As a production assistant at Spectra, Candace is complicit not only in her own exploitation, but also the Chinese factory workers who produce the Bibles her company sells. As such, both are dehumanised and reduced to the sum of their labour.
The critique of leistungsgesellschaft in American Psycho is closer aligned to Han’s philosophy, with the dissatisfaction and burnout of the wealthy white Wall Street characters manifesting as a psychopathology. Protagonist Patrick Bateman suffers from an “excess of positivity” (Han 10) causing an obsession with status, self-optimisation and consumption. Despite belonging to the elite class as heir of Pierce & Pierce, Patrick is not immune to neoliberal dehumanisation. As the factory workers in Severance are reduced to laborours, Patrick is reduced to a mere consumer. Though his privilege allows Patrick to remain insulated from the “Other” (Han 12) and consequently risk of biological contagion, he is already infected. The leistungsgesellschaft has left him with “not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust.” (Ellis)
Through placing Han’s insights on the leistungsgesellschaft in dialogue with both Severance and American Psycho, it becomes clear that capitalism and burnout syndrome function as both a viral and neuronal affliction that impacts everyone regardless of social standing, but operates within a hierarchy.
In Severance, Shen Fever is explicitly linked to patterns of labour and consumption, with the routines victims fall into including “a saleslady, folding and refolding pastel polo shirts” even as “half her jaw was missing” (Ma 214) This reflects the exploitative nature of capitalism its dehumanisation of workers into mechanical objects. Though Candace herself is not fevered, she is no different to the saleslady, adhering to her own monotonous routine, to the point of absurdity. She describes: “I got up. I went to work in the morning. I went home in the evening. I repeated the routine.” As Emily Waples says, “Ma escalates and satirizes this mindless mechanization by integrating it into the symptomatology of Shen Fever.” (Waples) Fundamentally, there is no real difference between Candace’s supposedly conscious actions, and those of the fevered. In response to a post on her blog, the NY Ghost, one reader asks “How do we know that you’re not fevered yourself?” (Ma 215) Ma gives Candace no answer.
Much of Candace’s abidance to corporate routine can be understood through Han’s theory of an “achievement-subject” who “ gives itself over to compulsive freedom—that is, to the free constraint of maximizing achievement.”(Han 20) This is the ideal within the leistungsgesellschaft, as evidenced by the motivational posters in Candace’s office, boasting slogans such as “YOUR GREATNESS IS NOT WHAT YOU HAVE, IT’S WHAT YOU GIVE. Or AS LONG AS YOU’RE GOING TO THINK ANYWAY, THINK BIG.” (Ma 193) Candace dreams of becoming an “art girl”, who are invariably “colt-legged, flaxen-haired, in their late twenties, possessors of discounted Miu Miu and Prada.” (Ma 20)Candace defines these art girls by their consumption habits, ignoring the racial and cultural preclusions, in hopes that she can join their ranks. Thus as an achievement-subject, Candace sets an impossible goal for herself, which forces her to maintain her mindless routines. The internalisation of neoliberal values shown by Candace is amplified to the extreme by those who are fevered.
Patrick Bateman’s disturbed mental state can similarly be attributed to the leistungsgesellschaft, and he too spends much of the book describing his monotonous routines. Just as Han warns, Patrick’s neoliberal pursuit of self-improvement “drives the subject into narcissistic self-repetition; consequently, it fails to achieve gestalt, stable self-image, or character.” (Han 48) Patrick lists the branded fruits of his consumerism, from “Greune Natural Revitalising Shampoo” to the “Interplak tooth polisher” (Ellis) and describes their alleged benefits in the tone of an infomercial. Patrick’s disconnect from his actions is further amplified as he takes on the second person perspective and imperative mood, distancing himself from his own body with lines such as “if the face seems dry and flaky [...] use a clarifying lotion.” (Ellis)These routines of self-improvement, far from fulfilling Patrick, only deepen his sense of inadequacy and reliance on the leistungsgesellschaft system. This neurosis mirrors Richard Sennett’s understanding of narcissism bred from a capitalist society, whereby there is a “Continual escalation of expectations so that present behavior is never fulfilling.” (Sennett) Patrick embodies this concept almost formulaically, lists of increasingly expensive commodities giving way to excessive violence as he finds himself unsatisfied by each benchmark. Sennett is however flawed in his ideas of narcissistic self-sabotage. He claims that the narcissist bred from neoliberalism intentionally avoids achieving goals, yet this is markedly untrue in Patrick’s case. Thanks to his privilege, he has achieved all the success characters such as Candace in Severance unfeasibly strive for, yet he remains dissatisfied. The neoliberal narcissist is not unwilling, but unable to feel fulfillment. What Sennett does get right is the impact of this lack of fulfillment leading to an emptiness. Burnt out by the endless demands of neoliberal achievement culture, which he self-inflects, Patrick himself recognises “there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory” (Ellis) leaving him with no emotions other than greed.
In both texts, a key symptom of the disorders representing burnout syndrome is consumerism. Candace clings to her consumptive habits even as society falls apart, and she is not the only one. Just as she indulges in non-essential commodities such as “Shiseido facial exfoliants, Blue Bottle coffee, Uniqlo cashmere” (Ma 12) and the art girls’ identities are reduced to their “Miu Miu and Prada”(Ma 20), the fevered even in their unconscious state gravitate towards “Juicy Couture” (Ma 214)and “dresses in all colors and fabrics, satins and tulles and canvases.” (Ma 104)The deeply entrenched consumerist mindset is further exemplified by the “Facility”, which the survivors spend much of the book trying to reach. Ma writes “The Facility, he informed us, had everything.” positioning it as a location emblematic of societal requirements. This El Dorado is eventually revealed to be a strip mall owned by Bob, encapsulating neoliberal values. As Koolhaus predicts “‘In the end, there will be little else for us to do but shop” (Jameson) Social spaces have been abandoned in favour of such commercial hubs made to perpetuate leistungsgesellschaft and alienation. Malls offer an illusion of infinite choice and satisfaction, which in turn sustains the emptiness described by Sennett, resulting in a vicious cycle. In Severance, Ma briefly offers hope within the mall’s setting, now abandoned and serving as a sanctuary for the group of survivors, who reclaim public property as a base for community building. Some of Bob’s fondness for the location even stems from this potential, as he recalls: “I’d eat free samples in the food court. When I was bored of walking, I’d play games in the arcade.” (Ma 204) Such activities, though still based in alienation, are not inherently consumerist in the sense expected by malls and help conceptualise how such a space could be reclaimed in a rejection of leistungsgesellschaft. This illusion is quickly shattered however, as the survivors soon reenage in the capitalist structure of a five day workweek, self-exploiting despite the knowledge of its futility. Unable to break free from her achievement-subject nature, for Candace this regression “feels strangely comforting.” (Ma 184) Even in the apocalyptic world, she and her peers seek comfort in brand names, with Candace choosing L’Occitane as her living quarters. Her narrative is filled with constant references to goods from brand names such as Nike, Lacoste and Clinique which are aspirational, yet still accessible to an office worker like Candace. Woven into the narrative at every opportunity, these allusions serve as a symbol for the permeation of consumer culture into the daily routines of individuals thanks to the leistungsgesellschaft. Candace’s reliance on these consumables for a feeling of safety exemplify the system’s reduction of individuals to material capital.
The ubiquity of brand names is even more pronounced in American Psycho, with Ellis creating a catalogue of nearly every item Patrick owns or notices in the world around him. Unlike Candace’s mid-level luxury aspirations, Patrick’s financial privilege allows him to own absurdly expensive luxuries, which he boasts in heavy detail. These “Valentino suits” and “Armani ties” (Ellis) are used for the creation of a superficial external identity whose only purpose is to breed envy, in supplementation of any real inner depth. As Patrick himself claims, “there is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me.” (Ellis) The numbness and burnout Han warns to be inevitable in achievement-subjects as a result of hyper-materialism and overconsumption can be felt by the reader too through Ellis’ descriptions. Pages listing corporate workwear are succeeded by depictions of graphic murder, which are skimmed over as easily as details about lapels. As posited inParodied to Death: The Postmodern Gothic of American Psycho, “we are capable of becoming accustomed to anything if it can be described, and hence imagined, in recognizable terms.” (Hayler) This mirrors the characters in the text, who equally inflicted with burnout syndrome, fail to notice Patrick’s mental decline, as they disregard anything that does not further perpetuate the achievement culture of excess positivity. The narcissistic consumerism of the yuppie leistungsgesellschaft also destroys any potential for genuine human connection. Every relationship portrayed by Ellis is shallow and transactional, with even seductions amounting to consumerism. Patrick masturbates to the memory of “a near-naked model in a halter top [he] saw today in a Calvin Klein advertisement” (Ellis)and Tim in his surface-level flirtations with Evelyn entreats her to wear a “sexy black Anne Klein dress.” (Ellis) Sennett considers this relational and specifically sexual aspect key to diagnosing the neoliberal narcissist, whose “feelings do not express themselves sexually in inability to have an erection or to ejaculate. Instead, while making love he feels empty, bored.” (Sennett 72) This is not only latently true of Patrick’s relationship with Evelyn, sex with whom he describes as “passionless,” (Ellis) but also his general sensual experience of the world. Despite numerous descriptions of exotic foods, for example, Patrick never once comments on flavour. The more he consumes, the emptier he becomes.
In this way, both texts epitomise Han’s burnout syndrome, but where he fails to consider leistungsgesellschaft through a post-colonial lens, American Psycho and Severance highlight the impact of race on the experience of this contagion. While Patrick Bateman embodies the detachment and alienation caused by an excess of positivity with no Foucaltian disciplinary consequences, Shen Fever is tied more directly to racialised labour hierarchies. Candace Chen’s experience with burnout is tied directly to her identity as a Chinese-American immigrant working in an exploitative capitalist system. Raised by her foreign parents, Candace internalises the “work ethic was like that of many other immigrants, eager to prove their usefulness to the country that had deigned to adopt them” (Ma 156)modelling herself as the ideal achievement-subject of the leistungsgesellschaft. In doing so, she reduces her value to her labour alone, compounding the effects of burnout along with her preexisting alienation. Candace is both tokenised and invisible within her predominantly white corporate environment, simultaneously expected to conform but also handed additional responsibilities managing production in Shenzhen solely because of her race. These demands, common of racialised individuals, exacerbate their experience with burnout in a manner their white counterparts do not experience. While Candace’s position in the supply chain grants her some agency, her labour is ultimately merely exploited by a system that devalues its workers. It is the factory workers Candace oversees who bear the brunt of the leistungsgesellschaft. Shen Fever itself originates from Shenzhen factories as it “somehow traveled here through the shipment of goods from China to the States.” (Ma 19)Emerging from such sites of racialised labour, Shen Fever symbolises the dangers of neoliberal globalisation as the spread of burnout extracts value from marginalised workers while simultaneously dehumanising them. Han criticises present society for “presenting itself as a society of freedom” (Han 45) while simultaneously perpetuating exploitation, and this can be seen by Spectra’s dealings with Shenzhen factories. Of her clients, Candace narrates “they donated to nonprofits that advocated against low-wage factories in South Asian countries, even as they made use of them” (Ma 129) emphasising the illusory nature of the freedom provided by leistungsgesellschaft, especially to marginalised workers.
Patrick’s whiteness shields him from the racialised aspect of burnout syndrome, with his pathology arising not from exploitation like Shen Fever, rather a compulsion to maintain and boost his social standing. At a dinner party, Patrick recognises the racialised harm of contemporary society, proclaiming that “we have to end apartheid for one. And slow down the nuclear arms race, stop terrorism and world hunger” (Ellis) benevolently acting impassioned on issues that generally do not affect his privileged white circle. Like Candace’s clients, this is no more than a farce, as Patrick inevitably perpetuates the exploitation and violence of the leistungsgesellschaft. Patrick’s performative civility is juxtaposed by his mistreatment of racialised characters, such as his murder of Al, a homeless black man whom he humiliates and calls slurs before killing. Al’s death serves no purpose beyond providing Patrick with a fleeting sense of power and control, emphasising the expendability of racialised workers within the capitalist system. The disparity between Patrick’s public and private selves is made possible only due to his whiteness, and allows him to hide his burnout syndrome and subsequent psychopathologies. His peers are equally complicit, and neither notice nor care about racialised minorities within the system. They too are infected with burnout syndrome, alienated and devoid of empathy.
Han's concept of burnout syndrome as a symptom of the leistungsgesellschaft resonates across both Severance and American Psycho, with both works elucidating the inescapable reach of neoliberal exploitation and its distinct racial and class dynamics. Burnout syndrome is materialised in Severance through Shen Fever, with its roots in Shenzhen factories exposing the racialised exploitation that underpins global capitalism. Meanwhile, Patrick Bateman’s burnout syndrome in American Psycho manifests as narcissism and psychopathy leading to compulsive self-optimisation and empty consumerism. Where Candace Chen’s identity as a Chinese-American immigrant ties her directly to the racial hierarchies of capitalist production, Patrick’s whiteness insulates him from external exploitation but does not save him from self-exploitation and the dehumanising effects of neoliberal achievement culture. Together, these texts critique leistungsgesellschaft and underscore how it infects everyone within the system, albeit unequally. While Han’s framework identifies the self-destructive achievement-subject as central to burnout, these narratives expand the analysis, illustrating the intersection of race in perpetuating both physical and mental contagion. Thus, burnout syndrome is not only a neuronal epidemic but also a racialised and hierarchical affliction, with leistungsgesellschaft as its inescapable pathogen.
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