The NS Interview: Nassim Nicholas Taleb

“Cameron is extraordinary. He’s the only thing we have left”

Many people believed that the banking crisis was unforeseeable, but you disagreed.
Well, I wrote in my book The Black Swan that the banking system was sitting on dynamite. I made bets on it because nobody was listening.

Your investments and books have made millions. Do people ask you for financial advice?
Yeah, but I don't answer. That's not my profession. I am a thinker. I like to use investment as a discipline.

In what way?
My motto is: "Never forecast anything unless you have your neck on the line."

Is there one person you think is most to blame for the financial situation we find ourselves in?
There's a collective, but I blame Ben Bernanke the most. He studied the Great Depression, so he should know better. Alan Greenspan is unskilled; you don't take the unskilled seriously.

A new version of The Black Swan has just come out. What's the theory behind it?
There are things we don't understand - low-probability, high-impact events - and they hurt us. In the first version, I identified those things. Now, I've written about what to do next.

Why is your opinion of economists so low?
Being an economist is the least ethical profession, closer to charlatanism than any science.

Why did economists get the crisis so wrong?
That's like asking why fortune-tellers don't get things right. Their tools don't work, but they continue to use them. And the Nobel committee gives prizes to people who aren't scientists.

You have a great phrase in The Black Swan: "Don't drive a school bus blindfolded." Is that still happening?
Worse. I was talking about Bernanke - they've given him a bigger bus.

Here in the UK, the government is giving even more power to our central bank.
Your new government is at least conscious. You don't have the Office of Management and Budget, which never forecasts anything right.

We'll soon have an office of budget control.
But here they understand. David Cameron understands expert problems. He is extraordinary.

You have described him as "the best thing we have left on this planet".
Exactly. I went to Washington, and the discourse had nothing to do with the real problem. And I thought, "He's the only thing we have left."

What would you advise Cameron to do?
Build robustness in the economy. You have to take some pain to remove the tumour.

You've written a lot about chance and probability. Do you believe in God?
I'm in favour of religion as a tamer of arrogance. For a Greek Orthodox, the idea of God as creator outside the human is not God in God's terms. My God isn't the God of George Bush.

What's your view of the "new atheists", people such as Richard Dawkins or Sam Harris?
They're charlatans. But see the contradiction: people are sceptical about God, yet gullible when it comes to the stock market.

Your family is Lebanese, and lost its wealth in the civil war. Has that shaped your views?
The key to wealth is that it doesn't matter. Once you've had it, you don't think anything of it; you can wear cheap watches.

You say in your book that four former Lehman employees sent you death threats.
I'm a threat to people on Wall Street. Typically, I'm better off than my detractors in finance, and higher-ranking than the economists, and I have more readers than the journalists.

What book has most influenced you recently?
The maxims of a Roman slave called Publilius Syrus. And maybe Wittgenstein's Philosophical Investigations.

Are you a happy man?
Where is the trace of the happy man?

You look happy! You're a bestselling author with as many fans as detractors.
Ah, detractors. Actually, you trust them more than fans. Fans send you two emails before breakfast, and if you don't reply they turn into detractors. Detractors are more predictable.

What would you like to forget?
My detractors look for incoherence in what I've written. They haven't found it, but if they do . . .

Is there a plan?
To make society more robust, or stop it from getting more fragile. I wish I didn't have to, so I could do something more pleasant for myself.

Are we all doomed?
Economically? Not if we do the right thing and bite the bullet.

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

This article first appeared in the 21 June 2010 issue of the New Statesman, The age of ideas

Biteback and James Wharton
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“It was the most traumatic chapter of my life”: ex-soldier James Wharton on his chemsex addiction

One of the British Army’s first openly gay soldiers reveals how he became trapped in a weekend world of drug and sex parties.

“Five days disappeared.” James Wharton, a 30-year-old former soldier, recalls returning to his flat in south London at 11pm on a Sunday night in early March. He hadn’t eaten or slept since Wednesday. In the five intervening days, he had visited numerous different apartments, checked in and out of a hotel room, partied with dozens of people, had sex, and smoked crystal meth “religiously”.

One man he met during this five-day blur had been doing the same for double the time. “He won’t have been exaggerating,” Wharton tells me now. “He looked like he’d been up for ten days.”

On Monday, Wharton went straight to his GP. He had suffered a “massive relapse” while recovering from his addiction to chemsex: group sex parties enhanced by drugs.

“Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army term”

I meet Wharton on a very different Monday morning six months after that lost long weekend. Sipping a flat white in a sleek café workspace in Holborn, he’s a stroll away from his office in the city, where he works as a PR. He left the Army in 2013 after ten years, having left school and home at 16.


Wharton left school at 16 to join the Army. Photo: Biteback

With his stubble, white t-shirt and tortoise shell glasses, he now looks like any other young media professional. But he’s surfacing from two years in the chemsex world, where he disappeared to every weekend – sometimes for 72 hours straight.

Back then, this time on a Monday would have been “like a double-decker bus smashing through” his life – and that’s if he made it into work at all. Sometimes he’d still be partying into the early hours of a Tuesday morning. The drugs allow your body to go without sleep. “Crystal meth lets you really dig in, to use an Army expression,” Wharton says, wryly.


Wharton now works as a PR in London. Photo: James Wharton

Mainly experienced by gay and bisexual men, chemsex commonly involves snorting the stimulant mephodrone, taking “shots” (the euphoric drug GBL mixed with a soft drink), and smoking the amphetamine crystal meth.

These drugs make you “HnH” (high and horny) – a shorthand on dating apps that facilitate the scene. Ironically, they also inhibit erections, so Viagra is added to the mix. No one, sighs Wharton, orgasms. He describes it as a soulless and mechanical process. “Can you imagine having sex with somebody and then catching them texting at the same time?”

“This is the real consequence of Section 28”

Approximately 3,000 men who go to Soho’s 56 Dean Street sexual health clinic each month are using “chems”, though it’s hard to quantify how many people regularly have chemsex in the UK. Chemsex environments can be fun and controlled; they can also be unsafe and highly addictive.

Participants congregate in each other’s flats, chat, chill out, have sex and top up their drugs. GBL can only be taken in tiny doses without being fatal, so revellers set timers on their phones to space out the shots.

GBL is known as “the date rape drug”; it looks like water, and a small amount can wipe your memory. Like some of his peers, Wharton was raped while passed out from the drug. He had been asleep for six or so hours, and woke up to someone having sex with him. “That was the worst point, without a doubt – rock bottom,” he tells me. “[But] it didn’t stop me from returning to those activities again.”

There is a chemsex-related death every 12 days in London from usually accidental GBL overdoses; a problem that Wharton compares to the AIDS epidemic in a book he’s written about his experiences, Something for the Weekend.


Wharton has written a book about his experiences. Photo: Biteback

Wharton’s first encounter with the drug, at a gathering he was taken to by a date a couple of years ago, had him hooked.

“I loved it and I wanted more immediately,” he recalls. From then on, he would take it every weekend, and found doctors, teachers, lawyers, parliamentary researchers, journalists and city workers all doing the same thing. He describes regular participants as the “London gay elite”.

“Chemsex was the most traumatic chapter of my life” 

Topics of conversation “bounce from things like Lady Gaga’s current single to Donald Trump”, Wharton boggles. “You’d see people talking about the general election, to why is Britney Spears the worst diva of them all?”

Eventually, he found himself addicted to the whole chemsex culture. “It’s not one single person, it’s not one single drug, it’s just all of it,” he says.



Wharton was in the Household Cavalry alongside Prince Harry. Photos: Biteback and James Wharton

Wharton feels the stigma attached to chemsex is stopping people practising it safely, or being able to stop. He’s found a support network through gay community-led advice services, drop-ins and workshops. Not everyone has that access, or feels confident coming forward.

“This is the real consequence of Section 28,” says Wharton, who left school in 2003, the year this legislation against “promoting” homosexuality was repealed. “Who teaches gay men how to have sex? Because the birds and the bees chat your mum gives you is wholly irrelevant.”


Wharton was the first openly gay soldier to appear in the military in-house magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

Wharton only learned that condoms are needed in gay sex when he first went to a gay bar at 18. He was brought up in Wrexham, north Wales, by working-class parents, and described himself as a “somewhat geeky gay” prior to his chemsex days.

After four years together, he and his long-term partner had a civil partnership in 2010; they lived in a little cottage in Windsor with two dogs. Their break-up in 2014 launched him into London life as a single man.

As an openly gay soldier, Wharton was also an Army poster boy; he appeared in his uniform on the cover of gay magazine Attitude. He served in the Household Cavalry with Prince Harry, who once defended him from homophobic abuse, and spent seven months in Iraq.


In 2012, Wharton appeared with his then civil partner in Attitude magazine. Photo courtesy of Biteback

A large Union Jack shield tattoo covering his left bicep pokes out from his t-shirt – a physical reminder of his time at war on his now much leaner frame. He had it done the day he returned from Iraq.

Yet even including war, Wharton calls chemsex “the most traumatic chapter” of his life. “Iraq was absolutely Ronseal, it did exactly what it said on the tin,” he says. “It was going to be a bit shit, and then I was coming home. But with chemsex, you don’t know what’s going to happen next.

“When I did my divorce, I had support around me. When I did the Army, I had a lot of support. Chemsex was like a million miles an hour for 47 hours, then on the 48th hour it was me on my own, in the back of an Uber, thinking where did it all go wrong? And that’s traumatic.”

Something for the Weekend: Life in the Chemsex Underworld by James Wharton is published by Biteback.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 21 June 2010 issue of the New Statesman, The age of ideas