7.11.2006
Where Did I Put that Happiness?
Last night I headed down to the pub with some good people, one who I hadn't seen for some time, one who I just met. We drank some pints. We talked about Prozac and behaviourism. In short, it was lovely and I was happy.
But now, this morning, I found out a reason not to be happy. Not because of anything I'm feeling or doing, but because I may belong to a city that scores lower on the "Authentic Happiness Inventory," a sooper idea from UPenn research/capitalist institiution, the Positive Psychology Center. Goddammit. I was doing so well and then I found out from the PPC that If I don't live in "Missoula, Montana. Rural Minnesota. Rural Indiana. Rural Alabama. Savannah, Georgia," then I'm not as happy. But I feel happy. What the heck is going on?
Nay, I kid. I am happy. The problem I find with the numerous studies mentioned in this epic NYT article is that they all focus on statistical data and this approach cannot usefully explain a complex world. If, for example, New York has a lower percentage of happy people, the study makes no mention of how the happy New Yorkers do it. The researchers' perception of "happiness" seems to rely fully on a digital model (on or off), rather than attempting to sort through the infinite nuances of an analog universe. Their approach underscores the absurdity of contolled experiments, rather than offering an indicator of anything useful.
That shizz aside, the article itself is good, even fascinating, and Jennifer Senior pulls out some deft moves in teasing out the limitations of the psychological approach: "Recently, I’ve come to wonder whether positive psychology isn’t also the perfect discipline for the era of George Bush, the decider, the man who remains shinily optimistic no matter how many red lights are glowing on his dashboard." She follows up her ironic jab with a full-on humanities smackdown: "Read a really good book on positive psychology, and read a great European novel. And the difference is evident in one thing—the complexity and subtlety of the moral and emotional life of the characters in the European novel are incomparable."
Back to the pub, then. I can't tell you how dingy the Toucan is: the floor stinks of fifty years of beer, there are national enquirer articles stapled above the foetid men's urinals, the bartender serves you drinks and cuts you off according to some entirely unpredictable logic. And it is the perfect place to bitch about the stupidity of things like positive psychology. It brings an unquantifiable kind of bliss: "Even the director of the Positive Psychology Center associates pessimism with seriousness and greatness. He sounds as divided about the question as his critics. It’s a conundrum, certainly. A psychoanalyst might even call him conflicted." Ooh you got served!
Golden Quote: "Canadians always do well (hardly a surprise to anyone who knows Canadians)." Phew! I can be happy after all.
