Lucy Pearson 

I looked for happiness in the world’s most contented nation – and learned the importance of pessimism

Yes, Finland has nature and saunas in abundance. But to my surprise, I learned that pessimism has a vital part to play, says writer Lucy Pearson
  
  

An archipelago in Lake Saimaa, Finland.
An archipelago in Lake Saimaa, Finland. Photograph: Miemo Penttinen/miemo.net/Getty Images

When I was invited to take part in a masterclass in happiness on the shores of Finnish Lakeland, a few of my friends expressed their surprise. But, Lucy, said one, you’re one of the happiest people I know. What are you hoping to learn from the Finns? I suppose she had a point. I’ve always been one of those annoying, glass-half-full people – not the most obvious choice for a four-day trip designed to teach me why Finnish people are consistently rated the happiest in the world. But, ever the optimist, I gladly accepted.

We Britons have about 60 words for happiness: blissfulness, ecstasy, pleasure, delight … The list is as varied as it is surprising, given that we only just scraped into the top 20 happiest countries in the world this year. Finns, who have been named the happiest nation for the sixth year running, are either onnellinen or iloinen. The latter roughly translates as joyful or glad: you might be iloinen that you’re heading off on holiday. Onnellinen, on the other hand, speaks to the notion of being content with your life, rather than describing a fleeting feeling.

In the decade since the first World Happiness Report was released in 2012, four countries have held the top position: Denmark, Switzerland, Norway and now Finland. It’s based on an evaluation called the Cantril ladder, in which respondents are asked to assess the overall happiness of their current lives on a scale of one to 10. The report looks at several factors that could influence a population’s happiness, including generosity, freedom and trust.

For the fourth year running, the UK has slipped down the global happiness rankings, dropping two places to number 19. I suppose it’s not entirely surprising, given the cost of living, Partygate and the political minefield that is Brexit. Even more worryingly, however, the 2022 global Oracle happiness report for the UK specifically found that nearly half of Britons (49%) have not felt true happiness in two years. We’re currently behind the US, Israel, New Zealand and Luxembourg, but mercifully ahead of the likes of Afghanistan and Lebanon – currently the two least happy countries in the world. This persistent decline in British contentment is concerning.

To find out what we miserable Britons can learn from the Finns, I went to Lake Saimaa – a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Helsinki. It is a resort designed around taking things slowly. Each villa has its own sauna, set in a fragrant pine forest; the smells, the music and the materials have all been designed to appeal to the senses and help guests relax. As many friends rightly pointed out, how could anyone not be happy here?

In many ways, though, my admittedly luxurious stay revealed to me how the Finns approach happiness for everyone. There’s no doubt they have got a lot of things right – their love of saunas, for one. Known for their health benefits, saunas are fantastic for calming the mind. And with an estimated 3m saunas for a population of just over 5.5 million, the Finns certainly integrate them into everyday life.

They also have an inclination for spending time in nature, which is something I can get behind. It doesn’t have to be extravagant or expensive; some studies suggest that spending just 15 minutes among trees can lower blood pressure and improve physical and mental health. The accessibility of nature surely plays a part for the Finns: they have 41 national parks, all of them free to enter, 647 rivers and a shoreline that stretches over 1,100km, not even including the country’s tens of thousands of islands. Our guide insisted that just getting out for a morning walk to grab a coffee can have beneficial health effects. But as I stood on a deserted stretch of island, inhaling the woody scent of a fire after a cup of soot pan coffee, surrounded by trees and the still waters of a lake, I wasn’t entirely sure I would feel as serene on a morning walk to Gail’s.

Of course, Finland scores well on indexes that are considered in global happiness tables: GDP, equality, social support, healthy life expectancy, freedom, generosity, lack of corruption. The Finns face many of the same challenges we do, but their response has been underpinned by three key elements: equality, education and transparency. But more than this, there is an attitude among the Finns that I don’t see in the kind of British people who always wonder why I’m so upbeat: a sense of being grateful for their lot. It’s a notion echoed in the Finnish proverb, onnellisuus on se paikka puuttuvaisuuden ja yltäkylläisyyden välillä, which means “happiness is a place between too little and too much”.

Perhaps my biggest takeaway from the trip is the Finnish focus on contentment over joy. On my second day in Finland, I met Timo Auvinen, who leads guided walks around Lake Saimaa. What, I asked, did he think was the secret to his country’s world-beating happiness? Laughing drily, he said that Finns have several sayings about their quest for happiness. They include, “the pessimist will never be disappointed” and “happiness always ends in tears”, but also, “nothing is so bad that there’s nothing good in it”. He noted that Finns’ lower expectations leave far less room for disappointment, meaning that a more neutral feeling of contentment is – more often than not – well within reach.

All of which made me think the Finns may be on to something. Instead of striving to have it all, should we be trying to make the most of what we already have: hot coffee, acts of kindness to strangers, free parks, beautiful trees? I wonder if we’re missing a trick by focusing on a never-ending search for happiness. That instead of striving for joy – our most highly coveted emotion – we should be satisfied with good old-fashioned contentment. And the occasional walk in a park.

  • Lucy Pearson is a freelance writer, book blogger and host of The Bondi Literary salon

 

Leave a Comment

Required fields are marked *

*

*