It has been most interesting, observing the media coverage of the anniversary of the death of Princess Diana, to note how attitudes have changed in the 12 months since she died. Already there is a growing sense of embarrassment at the indulgence and pretences that followed on our awakening a year ago to the news that the world's most famous woman had been killed in a car crash.
Within hours, a version of events was being created which was fashioned out of the very character of Diana to gratify those who had worshipped her most mindlessly when she was alive. The most disquieting aspect was the search for a demon to act as counterpoint to her sainthood, with her ex-husband and mother-in-law conscripted as scapegoats.
A year on, we begin to see that Diana was the victim of nothing but her own insatiable pursuit of gratification, which, by leading her into the proverbial bad company, made tragedy all but inevitable. A colleague who has been engaged in some research relating to the anniversary has remarked upon an interesting division in attitudes on the subject between women and men. Women whom she interviewed were given to encomiums of Diana. Men, although reluctant to express clear-cut opinions, were much less prone to eulogy, and many appeared to harbour some profound anger on the subject. She didn't know why this was so. I suggested that it is because men are tired of being held responsible for the unhappiness of women.
One of the few voices of sanity to cut through the nonsense of a year ago was that of Dr Oliver James, a British clinical psychologist who had just finished a book which, without particularly setting out to do so, told as much of the truth about Princess Diana as any of us truly needs to know. The book is Britain on the Couch: Treating a Low Seratonin Society. Dr James suggests that perhaps the principal difference between the 1990s and the 1950s is that most or all of us now "know" far more people than if we had lived a generation ago.
Whereas our grandparents "knew" just their immediate family, neighbours, a small circle of friends and acquaintances, most of us today, courtesy of the mass media, have come to "know" hundreds, perhaps thousands of people, from soap stars to kings. Dr James argues that this has multiplied the effects of our natural tendency to compare ourselves with others. Confronted on a daily basis by the manifest success of the famous, we are surrounded at all times by the evidence of our own "failure".
Dr James argues that levels of the brain chemical serotonin - on which human beings depend for their sense of well-being - are connected to social status, and therefore become diminished by this constant, invariably negative comparison.
The chemical imbalance thus created undermines our self-esteem, creating envy, depression and spiritual malfunction; a downward spiral leading to drug-addiction, eating disorders and insatiable appetites for newer and greater forms of gratification which, in turn, destroy our capacity for healthy relationships with other people.
Dr James employed the otherwise unemployable female members of the British royal family to illustrate the remarkable irony that this condition increases in virulence as the social ladder is climbed. The winners in our societies feel more like losers than the losers.
While greatly admiring his book, I believe that Dr James does not go far enough. One of the most dangerous aspects of the creation of a myth of Diana is the promulgation of the notion that she was at once a heroine and a victim.
This ostensibly oxymoronic combination is essential to the ideological purpose which women like Princess Diana have acquired in our societies. The pseudo-myth of Diana derived largely from her own self-publicity. By her own telling, she was the perfect mother, the selfless benefactor of the poor, the unhappy princess trapped in a bad marriage.
However much such notions appealed to elements of popular sentiment, they were far from the truth. Princess Diana, for example, was very far from the perfect mother; she was a jet-setting multi-millionairess who spent most of her time in gyms, shops or on beaches. It is one of the wonders of the modern world that grown people can seriously put forward the notion that this hugely privileged woman would make it into a list of the top ten billion unhappy people on earth. She had everything the world has to offer - except, ah yes, a happy marriage.
So? Was her husband happy, and does this matter? Why should he be responsible for his wife's unhappiness, but not she for his? Indeed, was there one bad thing in Diana's life that was not the fault of her husband, her father or some other male? Princess Diana was an icon to a particular form of female self-indulgence, which Oliver James has hinted at without naming. The subtext of the exaltation of Diana is the accusation that men have failed women - modern society's most notorious crime. She was the personification of the idea that women have a divine right to perfect happiness, which female popular culture has reduced to a longing for hourglass figures, multiple orgasms and platinum credit cards.
What the cult of Princess Di says is that if a woman is unhappy, it is the fault of the nearest adult male. If a woman is as rich, as privileged and as beautiful as Diana, and is still unhappy, it proves the case beyond doubt. Diana's life, and the treatment of her death, present a case study in the incapacity of elements of modern society to accept one of the ineluctable realities of human existence - that life is a bitch and then you die.
Moreover, the bulk of female popular culture is now directed at the modern woman's growing sense of victimhood and pique - from the plethora of magazines inciting narcissism and self-absorption, to the growing popularity of television shows like Ally McBeal, which turn neurotic women into heroines, to the rash of misandristic media adverts for everything from car insurance to sausages. As the demands created by this culture become more and more insatiable, so too does the anger at the consequent lack of fulfilment.
At the cutting edge of this phenomenon are the cults of a handful of female celebrities, of whom Princess Diana was the most prominent. With the collaboration of the popular media, these women present themselves as saints, "strong women" and selfless carers for their children, but also as victims of male failure and abuse.
In the majority of cases, the truth is the opposite of everything the cult suggests: most such women are extremely selfish, manipulative and abusive of those around them. These cults are used to promote ideas which serve nothing except hedonism and spite, and make all of us more unhappy than we already are.