Humans like to think about money. We dream about it, read about it, talk about it. When we hear of an ordinary person (meaning one whose life we can comprehend) who has unexpectedly received an unjust amount of money, it pleases us to imagine how she - or we - might spend that money.
Canadian professor of psychology Elizabeth Dunn, co-author of Happy Money: The Science of Happier Spending, said in an interview with CBC News that reading about lottery winners "invites us to indulge in the fantasy of what it would be like to win".
We don't get a happy rush of unselfish joy from the thought of someone else's good fortune, says Dunn. Rather, "we enjoy smug speculation about what better use we would find for the money".
The South African student who spent R 818,000 of the R14-million erroneously deposited in her bank account has generated more conversation this week than any lottery winner ever has. Some of the debate has been legal and moral - no, it doesn't belong to you; yes, you have to give it back - but the biggest question was: "What did she buy?"
The student in question has been "named and shamed" as she put it on social media, suggesting that she was quite aware of the ethical responsibilities she flouted, so I'm not going to cause her further embarrassment. In any case, this is not about her, it is about us.
We, the people who love to think about money, were briefly transported into a cash-carpeted fantasia of wish-fulfilment. As it turned out, the gifted student spent a relatively modest amount on weaves, whisky and other luxuries, which disappointed some voyeurs while allowing others to enjoy the smug alternate speculation posited by Professor Dunn.
We do not know if 27-year-old Sibongile Mani (oops, sorry) gained more abstract delight from the thought of how she might spend her accidental windfall or whether she derived most joy from the purchases she made. What we do know, thanks to a bizarre experiment conducted on students in China and the US, is that money makes us happy.
The study required some subjects to count money while a control group counted plain pieces of paper. Afterwards, both lots were told to immerse their fingers in water heated to 50ºC. This may not boil your skin, but it is going to hurt.
As you may have guessed, the students who counted money experienced less pain than those whose senses were undulled by filthy lucre. In other words, money exerts a hold not only over our imaginations but over our bodily functions.
Incidentally, the phrase "filthy lucre" comes from the King James version of the New Testament, where it appears four times. This is the fault of William Tyndale, who first translated the Christian Bible into English, with much resistance from the Holy Roman fathers.
Tyndale added insult to apostasy when he bypassed Latin and went to the earlier Greek for his translation. Which is all well and good, except it isn't, because if you want to blame someone for the guilt we feel when we think about money, blame Tyndale. He took the Greek phrase aiskhron kerdos, meaning "shameful gain", and turned it into "filthy lucre".
In his defence, Tyndale was guided by the Latin lucrum, which evolved in meaning from "profit" to "greed" to "avarice" before it settled on mere "money". But the stain did not wash off - why else do you think those endowed with fat wallets are still described as "stinking rich"?
I put it to you that no one, rich or poor, is immune to the jolt of pure joy delivered by opening a box you thought was empty and finding it full of cash. Money is not just money. In its rank folds and furls it contains the ability to make real our every aspiration.
If you think those who have money do not think about money as much as those who have none, you think wrong. I think.
The Maggie Smiths who consider it vulgar to discuss money are paying money just as much attention as those who speak about it constantly.
The power of money to confer happiness is another subject entirely. According to Dunn's book, "happy money" is either that spent on others, which makes us feel more important, or that spent on immediate gratification, which make us feel more alive.
As I write this, my elderly mother lies ill in the next room. No amount of money will restore her former vigour, but a lifelong habit of prudence means she has good medical care. Strangely enough, these are hardly ever the things we think about when we think about money. Nor do we imagine that the application of a R10 note might ease a blister just as effectively as tea tree oil. Perhaps it's time we thought about what we think about.
De Groot is deputy features editor. Peter Bruce is on leaveear of an ordinary person (meaning one whose life we can comprehend) who has unexpectedly received an unjust amount of money, it pleases us to imagine how she - or we - might spend that money.
Canadian professor of psychology Elizabeth Dunn, co-author of Happy Money: The Science of Happier Spending, said in an interview with CBC News that reading about lottery winners "invites us to indulge in the fantasy of what it would be like to win".
We don't get a happy rush of unselfish joy from the thought of someone else's good fortune, says Dunn. Rather, "we enjoy smug speculation about what better use we would find for the money".
The South African student who spent R 818,000 of the R14-million erroneously deposited in her bank account has generated more conversation this week than any lottery winner ever has. Some of the debate has been legal and moral - no, it doesn't belong to you; yes, you have to give it back - but the biggest question was: "What did she buy?"
The student in question has been "named and shamed" as she put it on social media, suggesting that she was quite aware of the ethical responsibilities she flouted, so I'm not going to cause her further embarrassment. In any case, this is not about her, it is about us.
We, the people who love to think about money, were briefly transported into a cash-carpeted fantasia of wish-fulfilment. As it turned out, the gifted student spent a relatively modest amount on weaves, whisky and other luxuries, which disappointed some voyeurs while allowing others to enjoy the smug alternate speculation posited by Professor Dunn.
We do not know if 27-year-old Sibongile Mani (oops, sorry) gained more abstract delight from the thought of how she might spend her accidental windfall or whether she derived most joy from the purchases she made. What we do know, thanks to a bizarre experiment conducted on students in China and the US, is that money makes us happy.
The study required some subjects to count money while a control group counted plain pieces of paper. Afterwards, both lots were told to immerse their fingers in water heated to 50ºC. This may not boil your skin, but it is going to hurt.
As you may have guessed, the students who counted money experienced less pain than those whose senses were undulled by filthy lucre. In other words, money exerts a hold not only over our imaginations but over our bodily functions.
Incidentally, the phrase "filthy lucre" comes from the King James version of the New Testament, where it appears four times. This is the fault of William Tyndale, who first translated the Christian Bible into English, with much resistance from the Holy Roman fathers.
Tyndale added insult to apostasy when he bypassed Latin and went to the earlier Greek for his translation. Which is all well and good, except it isn't, because if you want to blame someone for the guilt we feel when we think about money, blame Tyndale. He took the Greek phrase aiskhron kerdos, meaning "shameful gain", and turned it into "filthy lucre".
In his defence, Tyndale was guided by the Latin lucrum, which evolved in meaning from "profit" to "greed" to "avarice" before it settled on mere "money". But the stain did not wash off - why else do you think those endowed with fat wallets are still described as "stinking rich"?
I put it to you that no one, rich or poor, is immune to the jolt of pure joy delivered by opening a box you thought was empty and finding it full of cash. Money is not just money. In its rank folds and furls it contains the ability to make real our every aspiration.
If you think those who have money do not think about money as much as those who have none, you think wrong. I think.
The Maggie Smiths who consider it vulgar to discuss money are paying money just as much attention as those who speak about it constantly.
The power of money to confer happiness is another subject entirely. According to Dunn's book, "happy money" is either that spent on others, which makes us feel more important, or that spent on immediate gratification, which make us feel more alive.
As I write this, my elderly mother lies ill in the next room. No amount of money will restore her former vigour, but a lifelong habit of prudence means she has good medical care. Strangely enough, these are hardly ever the things we think about when we think about money. Nor do we imagine that the application of a R10 note might ease a blister just as effectively as tea tree oil. Perhaps it's time we thought about what we think about.
De Groot is deputy features editor. Peter Bruce is on leave..