Greater financial literacy is something I have no issue with. In fact, I consider it essential. According to the Women’s Financial Wellness Barometer, 60% of women in the UK consider their financial planning to be poor or average when it comes to planning ahead for the next 12 months, five years or decade, yet how we handle our money has never been more important.

A recent ONS report found that the UK household savings ratio dropped to 6.8% in the third quarter of 2022, compared to 9.8% in the same period in 2021. This decline suggests that a growing number of us are struggling to save money – something I also know anecdotally to be true.

But the framing of financial security as ‘health’, and those who are struggling with it as ‘ill’ feels unsettling. There’s also little room for nuance, and it fails to acknowledge that blanket, prescriptive advice (save more, spend less!) can’t and doesn’t work for everyone.

It turns money management into a morality issue that’s directly tied to the individual and their capability or capacity, rather than looking at the systemic barriers to prosperity that so often befall women and ethnic minorities.

Already, society places too big a moral value on money and success. Wealthy people are no longer just rich but ‘high-value individuals’, cementing this idea that our financial situation directly reflects our character and that the amount in our current account is indicative of our self-worth. And when we, somewhat inevitably, don’t live up to these expectations, we’re bombarded with feelings of guilt and shame.

Should we be striving for financial ‘wellness’, or does the pressure cause more harm than good?