My Problem with Being Happy

Despite the title, I don’t consider myself unhappy. In fact, I’m happy most of the time, and I don’t believe constant happiness is a realistic or even desirable goal. Accepting that I won’t always get what I want is crucial. Perhaps, applying Buddhist philosophy, I could even find happiness in those moments of disappointment.

Two core beliefs guide my worldview. Firstly, everything in this world is interconnected and inherently balanced. Secondly, resources are finite.

These beliefs imply that excessive consumption by one individual necessitates greater investment by another. Consider a simple example: In a hypothetical relationship, one partner leaves dishes wherever he/she uses them, forcing the other to collect, wash, and put them away. This creates an imbalance. As these imbalances accumulate, the overburdened partner may eventually leave the relationship. While most observers would understand this outcome, what if the messy partner was unaware of the negative impact of his/her behaviour? Perhaps he/she was raised this way? Regardless, the other partner feels probably exploited and mistreated.

Imagine the messy partner remains oblivious to the imbalance and the impending relationship breakdown. He/she continues to be happy. How should we judge this happiness? Is it something to be encouraged? Should we say, „Why can’t you be as happy as this messy person? Yes, I know their happiness will be short-lived, but they’re maximising their enjoyment in the meantime“?

This sentiment feels wrong to me. I don’t believe anyone should be trapped in such an unbalanced dynamic, neither the messy partner nor the exploited one. Ideally, an external force would intervene, guiding both partners towards a more balanced solution. This could involve finding a new equilibrium within the relationship or, if necessary, separation.

I believe many of us in today’s society are conditioned to believe we have an inherent right to behave as we always have. Perhaps our parents instilled this belief, or we worked hard for our current lifestyle and feel entitled to enjoy it. The crucial question is: Will anyone challenge this perspective, and will we be receptive to that challenge?

The unbalanced relationship analogy easily extends to broader societal issues. We drive large, electric SUVs in Europe, aiming to reduce our carbon footprint. However, this often relies on the exploitation of vulnerable workers in Africa who mine rare earth minerals under inhumane conditions. This imbalance may be even more severe than my domestic example.

Another, more abstract example: We cannot currently produce Helium. Nuclear fusion would be necessary for this. Therefore, we rely on naturally occurring Helium. However, Helium is a very light gas. Once it escapes into the atmosphere, it rises indefinitely and is lost forever. Every celebratory birthday balloon filled with Helium represents a decision to use this finite resource for fleeting personal joy, denying its potential for more significant applications, such as cooling superconducting magnets
in scientific research, which could benefit a larger group.

This leads me to a fundamental question: Do I truly need these things? Do I need an electric car, a birthday balloon, another pair of trousers, or an airplane journey?

I must admit that the environmental impact of long-distance air travel often weighs heavily on my conscience. I acknowledge that the answer to „Do I need it?“ is often „No.“ Yet, I sometimes choose to fly anyway, driven by the desire to visit family. This doesn’t negate my concerns about my carbon footprint, but it’s a conscious decision.

Some time ago, I received unsolicited advice to „just be happy“ from someone who demonstrated little concern for anything beyond their own personal gratification. Their disregard for resource consumption, self-restraint, and reflection deeply troubled me.

This experience has been challenging to process, not only because of a tinge of envy but also because I struggle to engage with such individuals and encourage them to act more responsibly.

My ideal solution would be a system where each person on Earth is allocated a yearly CO2 budget. Individuals could buy and sell unused portions of their budget, mitigating some of the existing wealth inequality. Crucially, every product and service would have a CO2 price tag alongside its monetary cost. Consumers would pay in their local currency, and the corresponding CO2 amount would be deducted from their personal budget.

This system wouldn’t necessarily prevent excessive consumption, but it would certainly encourage a more balanced approach.

How does this relate to my initial question about happiness? The messy partner in my analogy would likely experience a range of emotions after discovering their partner’s feelings of exploitation, but happiness would probably not be foremost among them.

Recognising my personal excessive resource consumption and very large carbon footprint has left me deeply dissatisfied with my current situation.

Hence my problem with being happy.