“I feel happy when...” - a very personal response to a Singaporean development planning “White Paper.”

One of my current projects is writing a reflection on a Singaporean development “White Paper.” It is entitled,  A Sustainable Population for A Dynamic Singapore.  The Paper was  recently made public by Singapore’s Office of the Prime Minister, Population and Talent Division.  Last week, this document was the subject of an unusually vigorous public-media and Parliamentary debate before being formally adopted.  A strong commitment to economic growth, requiring continued population growth to a possible level of 6.9 million or more, is one of the document’s major themes. I will be sharing excerpts from my more formal response to the document later.  This posting is about a personal one. 

A question emerging from the debate has also engaged non Singaporean scholar-practitioners  who struggle  with “sustainable development” issues is this:  “What is the relationship between economic growth/income on the one hand and feelings of well being (or happiness) of individuals living in a country on the other?”  In particular, my friends who are members of a leading sustainable development network, The Balaton Group, struggle with this issue.  In the course of discussing my reflection with a colleague, she mentioned an exercise she had heard about (I can’t recall the source).  She suggested I might give it a try as a possible help to clarifying my thinking.  The exercise was to take a few moments, without much preparation and for no audience other than oneself, and to write completions to a sentence that begins, “I feel happy when I..."   What follows is what I wrote early yesterday morning in response to this suggestion

I feel happy...

•  when I experience unconditional love.

•  when I greet someone and they greet me back.

•  when I walk through the Singapore Botanic Gardens.

•  when I can work with a supportive collaborator who will also tell me when I am wrong

•  when I think about how my children are living their lives

•  when I have finished a piece of writing that expresses what I envisioned it would express

•  when I can help a student achieve his or her goals

•  when a student, or someone else I have mentored, does great work

•  when I look at the pictures of my mentors that I have posted in my apartment and remember how they have helped me

•  when I have cooked a great meal and others have enjoyed it

•  when I look at or through a book I have written and know I did the best I could do.

•  when I have no debt and my expenses are less than my income

•  when I can contribute to someone else’s happiness

•  when, at the end of a day, I believe I have accomplished something good

when my commitments and the time I have to fulfill them are in balance

I feel happy when I reflect on many good choices I have made in my life

A Reflection on Happiness

Yesterday was spent with two friends, driving to the Malaysian border city of Johor Baru and visiting the Farmers’ (and small entrepreneurs) Market that is held each Saturday morning in a vacant lot adjacent to the Johor Bahru Stadium.  My friends are a long-married Singaporean couple, whom I will call Chao (the man) and Lihua (the woman).  They know of my interest in Singapore and have kindly offered to help teach me.  The question “what can be learned about issues of city/regional level resilience and sustainability from a rigorous examination of Singapore’s post independence history?” is the focus of my current research.  However all three of us are also drawn to a more fundamental question that is the focus of “National Conversations” in Singapore.  The government initiated National Conversations are country-wide discussions about the long-term goals of the society and government’s appropriate role in achieving those goals.

Our discussion began with Chao’s reflections on reasons for his bi-weekly visits to Johor Bahru and to the Farmers Market. Apart from the opportunity to buy a wide selection of  economically priced fresh vegetables, he told us, he enjoys the less stressful pace of life that the vegetable farmer/merchants seem to enjoy.  He introduced me to several with whom he holds regular, sometimes lengthy, conversations on his bi-weekly visits. Occasionally he has visited their homes.   Chao’s appreciation of Johor Bahru’s slower-paced way of life is nuanced, however.  When I asked him if he might like to retire there, he said “no.”  He also values Singapore’s cleanliness, efficiency, safe streets and absence of corruption. But over coffee after leaving the market, we all wondered whether the drive to excel, long working hours and especially the monetization of all aspects of daily life were necessary accompaniments of the qualities that make Singapore a good place to live.

Lihua contributed examples to the discussion from her own experience.  She reflected on spiritually-based support groups in which members care for one another without any thought of monetary gain. She mentioned a caring counselor who, before his untimely death, would provide his services to needy patients at low cost or for free.  She spoke of peacefulness gained from a hectic, demanding daily-routine that walks in Singapore’s beautiful Botanic Gardens provided.  She mentioned the satisfaction she gains from empowering her staff members to work collegially together, maintain a positive attitude and think constructively about their futures.  As in other conversations, she also posed gentle but challenging questions about my research agenda, encouraging me to be more clear and specific about the questions I wished to investigate.

Our conversation lead me to reflect and share thoughts on happiness as a social goal that had crystallized as I rode a rapid transit (MRT) train in the early morning to meet-up with my friends.  As one walks through MRT stations and rides the trains, one encounters many posters with commercial messages.  Most have two qualities in common.  First, the attractive role-models featured are almost all smiling (usually broadly smiling).  The intended message is that they are happy.  Second, the reason for their happiness is some service or product they have purchased – a great dinner served by a smiling chef: an educational course of study; retirement insurance; a profitable stock portfolio; a can of “Pokka” green tea or a “luxurious” travel vacation.  If one walks along Singapore’s commercial strip, Orchard Road, one is further encouraged by joyfully beaming role-models (or sometimes haughty, disdainful ones) to believe that expensive watches and jewellery along with high fashion garments are sources of human happiness.

My professional craft is dynamic systems computer modeling.  Discovering “metrics” – quantitative measures of social life - is important to me.  Thus, as conversation with my friends progressed, a metric popped into mind.  If I were to count the total number of smiling (i.e. happy) role-models appearing on advertising posters that I see on my daily rounds and divide that number  by the total number of all role models the resultant per-centage would be near 100%.  (One rarely sees grumpy role-models promoting products.)  Purchasing the products being promoted is clearly being communicated as the path to happiness that the joyful, smiling role-models are experiencing.

Our conversation progressed and I was lead to reflect on a second metric, the number of smile-wreathed ordinary people (not professional role models) - students, maids, executives, construction workers, taxi drives hawker stand proprietors ad cleanup persons, etc.  – that I see on my daily rounds, divided by the total number of all individuals, both smiling and unsmiling, I encounter. 

I do see some smiles each day.  The security guards in my gated community often smile when we exchange greetings as do the staff members who greet me when I arrive at the office.  Mothers playing with their children in the Botanic Gardens and, sometimes, dog-owners walking their pets, look happy.  Since I say “good morning,” “good afternoon” or “good evening” to most people I encounter, I often receive a smile in return. In these circumstances and exchanges, no jewellery, upscale dinners, expensive jewellery, or luxury vacation is being purveyed.  But if I were to take the total number of smiling individuals I encounter each day and divide it by the total number of all  individuals I encounter, the per-centage would far smaller than that depicted by my advertising-poster metric.

Two messages I draw from these unsystematic observations, which are not intended to single-out Singapore, are clear. (These are not intended to Single-out Singapore or Malaysia of course).   First, there is, indeed, a significant happiness deficit in the world, as contrasted with the idyllic world depicted by the joyously smiling advertising-poster role-models.  Second, the remedy for this deficit is to work harder and to earn more money in order to be able to purchase more of the stuff that is producing the role-models “happiness.” 

Literally billions of dollars are being spent, each year, to convince us these two messages are true.

But is that really the case?

To what does humankind aspire? What might the very purpose of life be?

(The source and background of the passage from which this is excerpted is given at the end. Why the text continues to appear in all caps, despite my best efforts, I have no idea)

To what does humankind aspire most deeply and what might the very purpose of life be? Buddhism’s answer is that what we all seek in life is happiness. but this is not just an agreeable sensation.

What is happiness? It is the fulfillment of living in a way that wholly matches the deepest nature of our being. It is knowing that we have been able to spend our life actualizing the potential we have in all of us. It is to have understood the true and ultimate nature of the mind.

What distinguishes the experience of a happy life from an unhappy one? For someone who knows how to give meaning to life, every instant is like an arrow flying to its target. Not to know how to give meaning to life leads to discouragement and a sense of futility that may even lead to the ultimate failure, suicide.

Happiness necessarily implies wisdom. It provides the capacity to put right the principal cause of what we perceive as unhappiness. That is, persistent dissatisfaction dominating the mind; a consequence of the inability to overcome the mental poisons of hatred, jealousy, attachment, greed, and pride. These poisones arise from an ego centered vision of the world and a powerful attachment to the idea of a "self" that is inage and powerful, withinn us

The other essential component of happiness is summed up in three words: altruism, love and compassion. We cannot fully experience happiness for ourselves, when around us others are suffering all the time. Thus, our own happiness is intimately linked to the happiness of others.

What Buddhism offers that is of greatest value is a ‘contemplative science.' It is a science of mind that deals with the most basic mechanisms of happiness and suffering. Why is this needed? It is because the mind is critical in determining how we live our lives and how we see “our” world. It is behind every experience in life. Changes in the mind can “turn our world completely upside down.” They can completely change how we perceive people and things. All great spiritual traditions are, fundamentally, intended to help us become better human beings, [which requires training the mind].

Why can science cannot help us much to attain that goal? The purpose of science is to elucidate the nature of tangible phenomena and in the light of those discoveries, to harness phenomena for our use, It can provide us with warmth if we feel cold. It can cure us if we feel ill. From the viewpoint of its own purposes, the goal of science would be to have every human being live for hundreds of years in perfect health But science does not address the goal of inner meaning.

What is the role Buddhism can play? It seems to offer the means to instill in all of us a degree of inner peace. Its fundamental truths can be used in such a way that the potential for perfection we all have within us can be actualized. (As we pursue our practice, we must check over the months and years to keep in touch with our commitment to attaining it and to ensure that we are moving forward toward it.) Our goals should be to free ourselves from hatred, grasping, pride, jealousy and, above all, to free ourselves from the ego-centeredness and ignorance that causes them.

The discipline that achieves these goals should be viewed as true wisdom. Experience is the path. In the quest for wisdom, dialogue (as in the dialogue between Mathueu Ricard and his father, Jean Francois Revel) can be enlightening. But no dialogue, however enlightening it might be, can ever be a substitute for the silence of personal experience, so indispensable for an understanding of how things really are.

Experience is the path and, as The Buddha once said, “It is up to you to follow it.” … so that one day, the messenger might become the message.

The above is from the concluding epilogue by Matthieu Ricard, one of the two co-authors of a remarkable book, The Monk and the Philosopher: A Father and Son Discuss the Meaning of Life (1998). “The Father” is Jean-Francois Revel (1924-2006), a leading French philosopher and author, among many other books, of Without Marx or Jesus: The New American Revolution has Begunand The Flight from Truth: the Reign of Deceit in the Age of Information. “The Son” is the author of the passage outlined below, who became a Buddhist Monk after receiving his Ph.D. in molecular biology at the Pasteur Institute. Ricard is the French translator for the Dalai Lama and has been a leader in the Mind and Life Conferences, a dialogue on the relationship between contemporary psychology (especially neuroscience) and Buddhist contemplative practices. He was the first Buddhist monk to collaborate with the University of Wisconsin’s Richard Davidson on the emerging fields of contemplative neuroscience and neuroplasticity. Those fields use state-of-the-art brain scanning techniques to study how the structure (and consequently, the functioning) of the brain are altered by practices, especially those that are intensely pursued. These include meditation but also, chess playing, musicianship, computer programming, and craftspersonship (such as sculpture or pottery making), and athletic practices such as tennis, badminton, quarterbacking an NFL team, world class football (soccer) and competitive endurance racing (50 and 100 mile marathons) on horseback.

Pursuing Happiness

Pursuing Happiness

Here is a link to a wonderful audiofile on the topic, “Pursuing Happiness” from a live event at Emory University. The event was moderated by Krista Tippett, creater of the program, Speaking of Faith (recently renamed “Being”). I often listen to podcasts of her interviews as some may know. The podcasts were a particularly meaningful link to home during my nearly seven month sojourn in Singapore.

Participants in the conversation were the Dalai Lama, Rabbi Johnathan Sacks (the Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom), the Rev. Katherine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop of the US Episcopal Church and Islamic Scholar Professor Seyyed Hossein Nasir from George Washington University. I found the comments by Rabbi Sacks, who is an international leader in interfaith dialogue, particularly memorable and evocative.

How seems happiest walking down East 40th Street in New York City, early in the morning.

A week ago Wednesday I was in New York City having breakfast outside a Dunkin Donuts on the corner of 2nd Avenue and East 40th street. It was a bit cold, but I was comfortable enough in my warm coat and fur hat. There was only one other customer braving the cold, a younger man who was constantly negotiating ‘deals’ on his cell phone.

The ‘sidewalk cafe’ served as a vantage point for watching passers by, most walking very fast with intense expressions on their faces and often preoccupied with cell phone conversations. People walk much faster and seem more purposeful than in DC.

I decided to take note of whom, among those striding purposefully down East 40th Street between 8:30 and 8:45 on a cold late fall morning seemed most happy. The results of this informal survey and assessment follow.

Most happy were the handsome young men and women featured on a poster advertising a condo across the street that was soon to be opened. They looked carefree and relaxed. I saw no one who remotely resembled them on the street.

Next were mothers walking with small children, holding their hands. Mothers pushing their children in strollers did not qualify. They all seemed to be talking on cell phones, walking as rapidly as other passers-by and looked stressed.

Next most happy were pre-adolescent children, apparently walking to school. Like the mothers walking with small children, their pace was slower and they were mostly holding each other’s hands. The seemed connected with one another.

Next were people walking one or two dogs. They seemed to be connected with their pets and enjoying the outing. People walking three or more dogs did not qualify. They looked stressed and unhappy. I assumed they were paid pet-walkers.

The street sweeper who was cleaning the sidewalk in front of my vantage point at a deliberate pace also seemed reasonably content. He responded to my greeting with a slight smile and a fairly cheerful ‘good morning.’.

The pigeons who clustered around my feet waiting for a handout seemed in good spirits. If they were disappointed that I had finished my somewhat meagre breakfast before they arrived, they kept their feelings to themselves.

As I said, most others strode by at a rapid pace with serious expressions on their faces, not looking from side to side and often with cell phones at their ears. They appeared to have urgent, important work to do and to be in a hurry to get to it.

This small slice of New York, at least, did not seem like a very happy place.

A cost effective path to happiness

I was listening yesterday to an NPR segment on ‘extreme sports.” It described the exploits of a skier - I can’t recall his name - who may have been responsible for coining the term. His feat is was climb to the top of precipitous cliffs in snow covered mountainous regions and ski down them. A single lapse of focus or insurmountable obstacle in his path meant instant death. In justifying this risk-taking, he described the “high” the “total focus” the “adrenalin rush” that this feat produced. And having completed one feat, it was not enough. Like Alexander the Great, he soon felt compelled to seek new worlds to conquer.

Many of us can cite similar, though less dramatic,‘highs,’ They are membered as notable, transient way-stations on a never ending quest for experiences of happiness and fulfillment. I can remember the moment I knew that the best - and most unconventional book - I ever coauthored would be completed. The first time I viewed my first child is another deeply etched, never-to-be forgotten high. First consummating a deep, passionate relationship is another.

In technologically advanced wealthy societies, the quest for happiness has become commodified and commercialized. In America, Christmas Season may be the best example. As the day set aside to commemorate the birth of Jesus Christ draws near, merchants, economists and politicians wait anxiously to see whether “consumers” will make the requisite 20 per-cent of the year’s purchases necessary to keep the economy healthy. Expensive hobbies, expensive hotels, expensive vacations all seem to be part of the elusive quest. Expensive watches are featured advertising subjects in the Economist magazine, which I read regularly. Typically, those pictured wearing them are sports stars (Tiger Woods) or handsome, somewhat disdainful young men, escorting beautiful young women in elegant surroundings. Clearly the purpose of these beautifully crafted timepieces is not to tell the time. One only need read the headlines in supermarket checkout tabloids to realize that the quest for happiness of young men and women who look like those is the advertisements is often elusive.

It must be my current exposure to the Dali Lama’s thinking, via his audio book, The Universe in a Single Atom, that keeps bringing Buddhist themes to mind. Lord Buddha’s teaching reminds us that the origin of suffering is attachment, in particular desire, passion and the striving for wealth, fame and popularity. Though the book is not about meditative practice, it reminds readers that meditative practice is an important discipline whose mastery can alleviate suffering and achieve happiness. Buddhist theories of consciousness maintain that our mental states, including suffering and happiness have causes. We can alter our mental states, the theories assert, by mastering the ability to alter their causes.

My beginner’s skills in meditative practice leave much to be desired, but I have learned two lessons. First, they can be put to use almost anywhere. Doctors’ and airport waiting rooms are places where meditations on breathing and single-pointedness seem particularly appropriate. Second, they require little in the way of commercially traded paraphernalia. I do use a standard issue candle, candle holder and small stone Buddha statue in my apartment. Total cost, less than $15. In waiting rooms, no paraphernalia is needed (though a set of ear plugs can be helpful).

Meditative practice may not be the only path to happiness - there is always, yachting, costly vacations, first class travel, expensive watches, and extreme sports. My purpose is not to denigrate these pursuits, but only to suggest an alternative if funds are limited or the satisfactions those options produce turn out to be transient.