On the nature of Happiness

Happiness, the indisputable goal of human existence. Happiness, the end goal of every human being’s actions.

But, is happiness really all that important? In a recent gathering of friends, everyone except me seemed to agree, to the point that the idea that happiness could be overrated was not open to debate. Not willing to ruffle the tranquility of the gathering, I turned inward and introspected - had happiness been the end goal of all my actions so far?

The question turned out more intricate than I’d thought. Before I could answer it to myself, perhaps for the first time I had to stop and think about the meaning of “happiness”. Of course, we all know it’s a good feeling. At the surface, all actions that I undertake are either for the sake of survival or for the sake of happiness. If I buy veggies, it’s because I need it to live. If I write and run – two of my favourite activities presently – I do get a good feeling at the end of each. That should settle the debate in favour of happiness, right? Nope. Not that simple. The enquiry about happiness has more layers to peel.

As one of the friends in the gathering pointed out, he derived the most happiness from human relationships – from actions such as taking a long drive in a slightly inebriated state with a bunch of friends. Sure, friends make me happy too. But if that good feeling can be derived from such simplistic actions that require nil effort, why do I write and run? After all, both of these activities require considerable heartburn, frustration, and sheer mental and/or physical exhaustion, before the good feeling can be felt.

Writing and running is easy. Why would one perform the unthinkably painful act of summiting Mount Everest, when the same good feeling can be derived from being a couch potato? Or, why would one build Google and Microsoft, when going on a drive with friends suffices? To me, the answer boils down to just one thing – not all happiness is equal. Such a ‘higher form’ of happiness, often derived from goal-setting, toil and accomplishment, is what Aristotle called “Eudaimonia”. Like all things precious, Eudaimonia is exacting and often downright nonsensical to those who don’t strive for it. On the other hand, the ‘lower form’ of happiness is akin to a stroll in the park – easy and devoid of the need for any enterprise, bang in the centre of one’s comfort zone.

I realise I come off pretty judgemental right now, trying to distinguish between the degree and sources of happiness for individuals. But here’s what convinces me of my argument – the gathering unanimously agreed that rarity was the currency that gave activities such as a booze-laced evening with friends its value. Too much of it, and it would get boring.

To those who’ve experienced it, the pursuit of Eudaimonia never gets boring. Not for a minute do people feel bored with their passion. Tired, exhausted, frustrated, yes. Bored, no. The moments spent not chasing their passions are the ones spent craving them. Can anyone say that about a gathering of friends? I don’t think so. That tells me that an attempt to derive ultimate pleasure from activities such as drinking with friends, instead of just using them as well-timed breaks, is only a last-ditch attempt to find some purpose in an otherwise purposeless, passionless life. Lie to yourself enough times, and throw in the seductive cocktail of alcohol and ruminations about the inherent meaninglessness of life, and you’re on your way to being content with the third base of Maslow’s hierarchy, instead of striving for the fifth and final one.

What makes contentment with lower happiness more ruinous is that the activities, such as an evening with friends, that get us there occupy not more than 5% of the entire life. This means that the vast majority of the rest of life – primarily involving work – is spent building up a much disliked scaffolding to support the fleetingly pleasurable minority of life. Instead, living the remaining 95% life passionately makes far more sense.

The segregation of happiness into higher and lower forms isn’t too different from the quintessential “look at what he’s doing and look at me…” reaction that great human beings evoke in most of us. At the root of it lies the fact that great men strive for a higher form of happiness, and mere mortals are content with its lower form. To further substantiate my observation, I can point to how most people are quick to judge others on the basis of their choice in entertainment. Again, at the root of it, some are content with the lower form of happiness afforded by salman khan movies, while others look to sometimes bafflingly complex music and cinema for their kick.

The reasons behind why some put themselves through hell for Eudaimonia while others settle for lower happiness could be several. Surely, constant failure is one. As one of the friends rightly pointed out, by the age of 30, most people have lost the battle on two great fronts of life – an exciting career and a suitable partner. That might break most people enough to leave them content only with lower happiness, because after all, achieving success on one or both of those fronts is a higher form of happiness. Other reasons could be sheer laziness, lack of ambition, or circumstances.

Nietzsche considered alcohol and religion (Christianity) to be great poisons – escapisms that needed to be avoided in order to face up to life’s challenges. It is pretty clear how alcohol lubricates the descent into lower happiness. It should not be difficult to view religion in a similar light, as something that allows its adherents to settle for lower happiness by bowing to a non-existent entity. Let’s guard against such evils and their ultimate consequence.