A friend of mine called Bhanumati asked about
'happiness' in a forum to which I contribute. I told her that I think happiness
is paradoxical, in that pursuance of it in itself is futile, but pursuance of
other things can bring about happiness. There's a famous quote by Kierkegaard
in his terrific work 'Either/Or' - he
says:
“Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry
past it”
Kierkegaard is reliably good on these matters. As
you saw from my above response, I would actually take it further than
Kierkegaard - things like happiness and pleasure are not really pursued for
their own qualities - they are qualities that emanate from other pursuits.
Usually it's quite ignoble to pursue these things in and of themselves, as
their levels of enrichment should ideally act as by-products, not goals in
themselves. For example, people who pursue money for the sake of having wealth
or sexual activity for the sake of hedonistic pleasures miss the very
quintessence of the delights that money and sexual activity bring in the
pursuit of their better relations like honest hard-work and love with a
beloved.
You can imagine, then, my shock when I found out
that not only had UK Prime Minister David Cameron sought to assess the
well-being of the nation as a thing in itself, he'd actually made it a project
for the Office for National Statistics (ONS) to investigate with the intention
of generating some political policies from the results. This investigation was conducted as part of David Cameron's 'happiness index' initiative to
assess the well-being and happiness of the nation alongside economic data like
GDP (in a future Blog I'll explain why GDP itself is a poor measure of standards).
According to the results of David Cameron's happiness index, the average Brit
rates their happiness as 7.4 out of 10. ONS programme director Glenn Everett thinks
that this data can be used to generate good governmental policies. He said:
"By examining and analysing both objective statistics as well as
subjective information, a more complete picture of national wellbeing can be
formed. Understanding people's views of wellbeing is an important addition to
existing official statistics and has potential uses in the policy making
process and to aid other decision making"
Alas, both Glenn Everett and David Cameron do not
understand where they are going wrong here. What they need to realise is that
happiness is not amenable to blanket commentaries, and nor can it be broadly tended
to with government policies. Suppose you were one of the several hundred
thousand people who were asked questions in the survey like "how satisfied
are you with your life nowadays?" and "how happy did you feel
yesterday?" - the only possible metric you have to consider such questions
is other people's happiness and satisfaction. You may believe that when
answering a question about how happy you are, you are making comparisons based
on other times in your life - and it's true, you are - but that doesn't change
the fact that all your ideas and perceptions of happiness, satisfaction and
well-being are constructed relative to how you see other people.
If the average Brit rates their happiness as 7.4,
then how does that compare to the 7.4 variant in, say, Sweden or Sudan? Perhaps a personal rating of
9 in Sudan would only be
equivalent to a 6 in Sweden.
Sweden is a more prosperous country than Sudan – so maybe a Sudanese
person's happiness is measured without knowing how happy they could be in a
more prosperous country. Maybe in some cases the opposite is true - perhaps
some Sudanese people see European modernisation as being full of unenviable
plights (depression, addiction, binging, celebrity worship, lack of
spirituality, etc). Maybe Swedes are more developed because they are less
naturally content than Sudanese people. Who knows? The point is, nobody knows,
because one's own personal interpretation of people’s reported happiness says
almost nothing about actual happiness as a quantifiable state.
That a plighted Sudanese man might rate his own
reported happiness as scoring higher than the average Swede or Brit will strike some people as strange - not because it should be assumed that the Sudanese man
should be less happy, but because the criteria by which people measure their self-proclaimed
happiness cannot be contained by any objective metric, irrespective of whether
we are comparing nation to nation, or century to century. To show this, let's
use two objective qualities as an illustration - height and weight. If you
compared the average Brit today to the average Brit 100 years ago, you'd find
that the average Brit today would be a few inches taller and quite a few pounds
fatter than their century old counterpart. So asking a man today 'Are you
tall?' or 'Are you fat?' doesn't tell you anything about historical trends or
comparable data, nor would the answer given provide us with any clue about an
objective identification without recourse to other statistics. A 5ft 9, 12 stone man probably would
have answered 'yes' to both questions in 1914 and 'no' to both questions in
2014.
Similarly, people might on average be happier now,
or they might have been happier in 1914, but simply asking 'Are you happy?'
brings no light to the measure of happiness at all. This is because all
self-proclaimed accounts of happiness, fatness or tallness depend on how you
feel in comparison to others in your society. If happiness has increased, it
won't show up in reports of happiness on the scale Glenn Everett and David
Cameron are using, because our perceptions adapt to the changes in society. In
other words, if we expect our happiness to increase, then our happiness rating
won't necessarily change in value (because the value is measured against
perception of our peers) but it will increase in absolute value, just as being
in the median in height doesn't change your relative position, even if you are
a few inches taller than someone in the median range in 1914.
Because we rate these things in comparison to
others in our society, it means that if on average everyone in UK societies gradually gets happier (as they
have fatter and taller) the members of the UK will rate happiness as
unchanged. Despite these significant changes, most people when asked would tend
towards a report that places them somewhere near the median. It isn't the
number of people who class themselves as a 7.4 on the happiness scale that
changes (same goes for fatness and tallness scales) it is the happiness levels
of the 7.4 that changes.
That David Cameron asked the Office of National
Statistics to construct a survey to measure people's happiness is absurd enough
- but that he and Glenn Everett think the results have "potential uses in the policy making process and to aid other
decision making" displays a puerile ignorance of the complexity and
diversity of a nation's proclaimed happiness and well-being, and a foolish
over-estimation of the State's power to introduce happiness-inducing policies
for the nation's betterment.
That covered self-proclaimed reports of happiness.
Now we can look at why happiness itself is so ambiguous. To see why, let's take
just one component of happiness - the enjoyment of watching films. Suppose
David Cameron, acting on his desire to make us all happy, decided to plough
taxpayers' money into the film industry and give us lots more films to watch.
Imagine the task he'd have working out into which areas the money should be
spent. There is no national preference for films - some people like westerns
most, some prefer comedies, some prefer action films, some prefer period
dramas, and some prefer romances. Different people like different combinations
of genres, and some people don't like films much at all. Further, the ranking of films
as preferred by the individuals varies according to age, context and
circumstance, so it does not match any actual ranking in the aggregate
affections of the nation. On Saturday night I probably prefer a comedy; on
Sunday afternoon I’m more partial to a western.
These are the reasons why there is no such thing as
the nation’s favourite film, or the nation's most desirable man, or the
nation's most favoured chocolate bar, because tastes are diverse and complex,
and there is no 'one size fits all' measure that can be used politically. You
know how futile it is to identify even just your own favourite film or your
favourite chocolate bar. Just imagine the ultimate futility in trying to
identify the appeal of the whole nation.
On top of that, what are bad things for some people
are good things for others. Smoking, divorce and Rik Mayall are not things that
make me happy. But for Tony, the Marlborough-smoking Bottom fan who has just
escaped an unhappy marriage, smoking, divorce and Rik Mayall do make him happy.
If David Cameron classifies smoking and divorce as bad things, and Rik Mayall
as a good thing, his policy will be bad for Tony twice and me once.
Neither David Cameron, nor any politician, has the
data or omniscience to construct policies to make the nation happier, nor any
chance of even identifying happiness as an objectively quantifiable quality
like weight or height - so it's a policy he should try to resist if it rears its head again in his future thinking.