Carl Cederström, sociologist: ‘Wellness has become a corporate tool. It doesn’t make you happier; just more productive’

What happens when happiness ceases to be a desire and, instead, becomes an obligation? This is a question that Carl Cederström has been posing for years. The sociologist teaches at Stockholm Business School and is the author of several critical essays on workplace culture and the happiness industry. His popular book The Wellness Syndrome (2015) is a sharp and engaging work, co-authored with André Spicer, dean of Bayes Business School in London.

In the book, they analyzed the rise of the wellness industry, focusing on its darkest corners. They explored how mindfulness went from being a countercultural trend to becoming a corporate tool.

By looking inward, we stop seeking answers in the political and social spheres of life. And, when we obsess over counting calories and steps (on our “wellness spreadsheet,” as Cederström calls it), this offers some people a mirage of certainty… the possibility of a world in which a clear relationship between cause and effect seems to exist.

Question. In the book, you argue that feeling good has become a moral imperative and that wellness has become an ideology. How did this happen?

Answer. The idea of wanting to live a good life has always existed. But I would say that, in the 1970s, the exercise culture, the self-help movement and “personal growth” became really big. Lots of programs and seminars emerged, aimed at helping people find their true inner selves. Companies began sending their employees to courses focused on personal growth – not only to develop as individuals, but also to be more effective at work.

I think an important part of the wellness movement is also this search for authenticity… but a very individualized authenticity. Health has always been important, but that’s when “wellness” as a concept gained traction. There’s a discourse that’s specific to wellness; a particular way of talking about it, with its own words and expressions. Wellness isn’t about generic well-being; it’s not simply about everyday health. Rather, it’s the idea of “super health,” something that could be infinitely better.

In the 1980s, figures like Jane Fonda appeared, along with exercise videos and television programs that brought wellness into the living room. That generation also quit smoking. By the 1990s, many of the ideas I analyze became integrated into corporate culture. But the real boom came in the 2000s.

Q. You argue that wellness has become a kind of moral value. And this is reflected in many areas, but especially in food, summarized in the idea that “you are what you eat.”

A. Exactly. And it’s closely related to this obsession with data. We’ve begun to break food down into metrics. We live in a world where people can work incredibly hard and do everything correctly, without necessarily getting the results they believe they deserve. And the gym and calorie counting offer some people an almost utopian universe, where there seems to be a clear relationship between cause and effect. If you go to the gym, follow a specific diet and do what ChatGPT says, you usually get the expected result. As meritocracy and other utopian projects begin to erode, these kinds of activities explain how we’d like the universe to actually work.

Q. And that’s where passive nihilism comes in: the idea of wellness as individual improvement, forgetting the collective.

A. Now, I’m not saying that engaging in wellness activities automatically turns someone into a passive nihilist. What I’m trying to question is the naive belief that engaging in them always leads to moral improvement.

The idea behind passive nihilism is that activities like going to the gym can create a sense of order. They allow you to shut everything out and focus on your own body. They give the impression that you’re doing the right thing and that the universe is simpler than it actually is. For many people, [wellness] functions as a refuge – a small, safe space where you can feel secure and distance yourself from what’s happening around you.

The individualization of responsibility can be harmless when you think, “I have to go to the gym.” But if you translate this into politics and believe that the only way to improve society is for each person to find their inner voice, become healthier and get a better job, it’s probably not going to be the most effective political tool.

Q. How has the world reacted to the widespread use of weight-loss drugs? Before, obese people were criticized for being unhealthy. Now, they’re also criticized for losing weight with Ozempic and similar products, as if they’re cheating.

A. Ozempic is really in the middle of two competing discourses in the wellness movement. On the one hand, it’s an effective weight-loss medication. On the other hand, it can be perceived as a shortcut or an artificial way to achieve the goal. It fits perfectly with a vision that accepts supplements, protein, constant measurements and body optimization. From that perspective, it [isn’t] very different from other tools designed to improve performance. But then, on the other side of this wellness movement, you have this obsession with everything being “authentic” – the idea that everything must be done naturally, that you have to endure the process, give birth without anesthesia, walk barefoot over hot coals… the idea that you have to earn the result. So, I think it’s really fascinating to analyze Ozempic in relation to the wellness movement.

Q. Mindfulness went from being a countercultural trend to becoming a multi-billion dollar industry. And HR departments were the first to embrace it. Why is that?

A. In the 1960s, Eastern mysticism served to challenge a society that was considered rigid and dominated by conservative values. But in the 1970s and 1980s, a lot of that began to be corporatized. Courses that taught Buddhism and other practices popped up, but not just so that you could achieve wisdom or enlightenment: [they were meant to make you] more effective in the job market.

The corporatization of Eastern mysticism continues to happen today. Meditation and wellness have become corporate tools. They don’t make you happier; they just make you more productive.

Q. In your book, you analyze the paradox of happiness: we live in a society obsessed with happiness… and yet, suicide rates and the consumption of antidepressants are increasing. What’s happening?

A. The increase in depression diagnoses and medication use is due to many different factors, so I’d rather not oversimplify the answer. What we did try to point out in the book is that the very expectation of happiness can be problematic. There are many ways to live a human life. Happiness doesn’t have to be the only possible goal.

Starting with the Enlightenment, in the 17th century, happiness began to be conceived as something to be pursued. And that’s also when people began to feel miserable… not just because they were unhappy, but because they failed to live up to this new ideal. What we find problematic is the ideal itself. If you analyze happiness philosophically, it’s very fleeting. It’s one thing to lead a fulfilling life, with a job or a relationship that you consider meaningful. It’s quite another to have this idea of happiness that’s understood as a permanent state of bliss.

Happiness can appear in completely unexpected situations. And obsessing over it can make us lose sight of the fact that life is made up of complex emotions. Let’s think about the death of someone close to us: if societal pressure dictates that you should get over the loss as quickly as possible, take antidepressants and immediately return to work, something important is lost.

In the precarious society that we’ve created, a lot of this boils down to productivity. Why is it important to be happy? Because then you can get back to work, continue producing and keep functioning.

Q. The book begins by quoting Sartre and ends with Zadie Smith. In both cases, they describe a euphoria for living intensely that doesn’t quite fit with the canon of health and wellness…

A. Sartre spent entire days and nights immersed in literature, philosophy, or politics. That’s very far removed from what we usually understand as happiness today. And yet, there was a profound joy in that pursuit. Meaning could be found in knowledge, in culture, in political action, or in collective projects, to the point that you were willing to risk your life because something seemed truly important.

What I find compelling in both Sartre and Zadie Smith is their love for something that’s so intense and so powerful which has nothing to do with wellness. It’s as far removed from counting calories as you can imagine. I think there’s a passion and a joy that could be lost when you become too obsessed with thinking about yourself through what we might call the “wellness spreadsheet.”

Q. That’s a nice idea… but I don’t know if the world is heading in that direction.

A. Right. We’re living through a kind of modern version of the transition that already happened between the 1960s and 1970s. The personal growth programs of the 1960s were linked to experimenting with psychedelic drugs, free love, etc. But in the 1970s, many of those ideas were repackaged as tools for becoming a better employee and a more successful person in the marketplace. Today, the same thing is happening again.

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