The Happiness Myth_ An Expose - Jennifer Hecht [72]
Giving oneself a midday treat by drawing on inner resources is an unbelievable drag in comparison to buying something nice to eat or doing a little window-shopping with an option to buy. And, of course, you are going to need to use your inner resources, too, to see such acts not as an empty and meaningless exchange but as the kind of thing that makes us complex apes happy: a little give-and-take, a little novelty, a little confirmation of self-value. Money can help in the service of lifelong happiness, too. Showing yourself that you are grown up enough to be a parent is reasonably well accomplished by purchasing a large, safe car and a home full of furniture. People get emotional work done with money. Other people get emotional work done without money. All of them report that they feel sort of happy. Of course, with or without money, some people don’t do their happiness maintenance work, and they feel a little lousy. Happiness maintenance work is creating things to look forward to on a daily basis; arranging some peak experiences for yourself occasionally; and making sure the overall story of your life has some feeling of progress and growth.
One guess about the happiness flatline since the fifties is that the statistics reflect a case of rising expectations and competition: keeping up with the Joneses. You might become dissatisfied with your lovely backyard lawn when your friends all put in swimming pools. Philip Brickman and Donald Campbell named this the “hedonic treadmill” some four decades ago.3 The idea is that in this consumerist, competitive world, whatever you purchase or achieve makes you happy for only a moment, exciting your appetite for more rather than satisfying you. When it comes to promotions, film roles, or a new handbag, one makes you want two. But is this really about wanting more? Sometime in the hours after you have eaten lunch, you will begin to be aware of a desire for dinner. Is this an eating treadmill? It would be bad if we could not enjoy breakfast because we already wanted lunch. Maybe you enjoy the lawn, and then later put in a deck, and enjoy that, too, and then a pool, and you enjoy that, too. If you thought money gestures were going to be permanent, this is going to look like a treadmill. Otherwise, maybe not.
Money can also make you feel like you are part of a group. But you don’t have to have much money for this; you just have to have the same amount as the group you are in—so long as you are above the line of real poverty. Consider an argument I’ll call falling down with the Joneses. In the British film Hope and Glory, set in London during the Blitz, there is a scene where two female friends rummage through racks of used clothing at a “make-do-and-mend session.” Molly says, “God, how I hate all this scrimping and squalor,” and Grace responds: “I don’t mind it. It was harder before the war. Trying to keep up appearances. Now it’s patriotic to be poor.” For some people, some of the time, community status is more important than the quality of one’s possessions. Note, however, that Molly said she hated the squalor; she did not say she hated no longer being envied. Walking around a shiny-floored department store, touching lovely pristine blouses, is an objectively different experience from walking around a dingy room with your coat on and buttoned against the chill, looking at worn, tired clothes. Likewise, chances are good that you genuinely enjoy gliding around your new in-ground pool on a hot summer