Let’s start with a little perspective: we write and read this column from the vantage point of being the most insanely wealthy people in the history of the human race. You have a roof. You have clothes. You ate breakfast. You can buy things you want. You are thus, in the great sweep of history, “the 1 percent.”
And, again stating the obvious, we live in a culture where happiness is directly tied with how much money you have to spend. Jefferson penned our “unalienable rights” to “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” but it was also clear that Jefferson was a lot happier when he had discretionary cash than when he was up to his ears in debt.
Finally, one more caveat. I’m wide awake to the theological reasons of why happiness and money have no correlation, or even negative correlation. Objection sustained.
Having said all of this, though, we rich Americans have a lot of money, and spend a lot of money. And we do so in the hopes that how we spend will increase our happiness. How is that working out for us?
The answer is, it depends. So-called “happiness studies” are proliferating around the country, and they are producing interesting research on how our spending habits add to or decrease our overall happiness.
First, these studies show that people who spend on experiences are happier than those who spend on consumer goods. Spend on a trip or a concert, and you’re more likely to be happier than if you bought, say, a couch or a television. Even less-than-ideal experiences get better happiness markers than regrettable durable objects.
Second, social spending brings more happiness than solitary spending — particularly when it comes to experiences. Go to that concert alone if you must, but if you want to be happier about it in the long run, go with someone with whom you can share it at the time and recall it fondly later. This is particularly true when we spend on experiences with family and close friends.
Finally, spending altruistically can bring some of the highest levels of happiness. In a study in The Journal of Positive Psychology (“Experiential Purchases and Prosocial Spending Promote Happiness by Enhancing Social Relationships,” Yamaguchi et al, September 2016), people were assigned to buy goodies for either a hospitalized sick child or for themselves. Those who bought treats for the sick child reported more positive feelings.
I used to be offended by the IRS-required statement on my contribution statements: “No goods or services were provided in exchange for your contributions other than intangible religious benefits.” You mean all that giving to the church netted me nothing tangible? Ah, not so. Those “intangible religious benefits” seem to be the stuff of happiness that so many strive for and so few seem to find. That may be the stuff worth spending on.
