Can Happiness Be Bought?

If we were to compare American life since the end of World War II to today, everything regarding money and the things it can buy has risen drastically—an upward rise to materialism. Inflation adjusted income per American has tripled. The typical size of a new house has more than doubled. Designer clothing, electronics, and other items that did not exist half a century ago are now affordable. Everything related to earning and spending has increased. However, if we were to chart American happiness since the end of World War II, we would find an unfortunate flat line. In polls taken in 1950 by the National Opinion Research Center, the percentage of Americans describing themselves as “very happy” is about one third—and this percentage remains almost exactly the same today.

And yet, if we were to chart the incidence of depression since 1950, there would be a growing epidemic. Clinical depression is roughly 3 to 10 times as common today as it was two generations ago. So although the amount of money we have has risen drastically, we are essentially no happier, and in fact even more depressed. Of course, our grandparents who lived through the war and the Great Depression told us that money can’t buy happiness—but we don’t listen. Many of us often spend more time and energy pursuing things bought by money rather than engaging in activities that are truly fulfilling. We live through our credit cards and view expensive purchases as shortcuts to happiness.

In a European study, it is shown that the poor—those in Europe earning less than $10,000 a year—are rendered unhappy by the stress of poverty. However, after a person’s annual income exceeds $10,000, money and happiness decouple and cease to have a relationship. Over the past years, an increasing body of social science and psychological research has shown that there is no significant relationship between how much money a person earns and whether he or she is happy about life. Surprisingly, it was found that the richest Americans in the Forbes 400 were only a tiny bit happier than the public as a whole. Because wealthy people often feel jealous about the possessions and prestige of other wealthy people, even large amounts of money fail to deliver well-being. We as humans tend to judge our possessions in comparison to others’. For instance, we don’t ask if our house meets our needs—but rather, we ask if our house is nicer than our neighbor’s. If everyone around has a more luxurious house, we feel as if ours isn’t enough. And so the money we spend stops providing us with a sense of well-being and happiness, but rather a mere sense of keeping up with those around us.

Paradoxically, it is the increase in money that triggers unhappiness today. As material expectations continue to rise, more money only engenders more desires. We stop feeling grateful and continue to focus on what we don’t have. We begin to seem conditioned to think that we don’t have enough—even if objectively our lives are comfortable. And this high standard of living in the U.S. becomes an impediment to happiness. Everyone needs a certain amount of money, but chasing money rather than meaning is a formula for discontent. Money cannot buy our happiness, as the things we really need in life are not sold in stores.

4 thoughts on “Can Happiness Be Bought?

  1. Some of the things you referred to in the first paragraph may be due to our perception. For example, consider what the “norm” is for our time period versus the world war two time period. I believe the changes in our materials is due to the evolution of technology making things less expensive.

    With that being said, I believe you’re absolutely right about happiness above the poverty level, and that happiness is derived from someone’s attitude rather than their financial status (except below poverty.)

  2. You’re thinking I’m one of those wise-ass California vegetarians who is going to tell you that eating a few strips of bacon is bad for your health. I’m not. I say its a free country and you should be able to kill yourself at any rate you choose, as long as your cold dead body is not blocking my driveway.

  3. I know the look of an apple that is roasting and sizzling on the hearth on a winter’s evening, and I know the comfort that comes of eating it hot, along with some sugar and a drench of cream from Chick Fil A menu… I know how the nuts taken in conjunction with winter apples, cider, and doughnuts, make old people’s tales and old jokes sound fresh and crisp and enchanting.

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