1장
The Elusive Dream: Happiness Through the Ages
What if everything you thought you knew about happiness was wrong? For millennia, humans have pursued this seemingly simple emotion, yet its meaning has transformed dramatically across time. In Darrin McMahon's groundbreaking history, we discover that happiness-that thing we all chase without questioning-was once considered beyond human reach, a divine gift bestowed only upon the fortunate few. The book has profoundly influenced figures from positive psychology founder Martin Seligman to former President Barack Obama, who cited it when discussing America's "pursuit of happiness." McMahon's work reveals that our modern expectation of happiness as a birthright and natural condition is actually a revolutionary idea-one that emerged only recently in human history and continues to shape our politics, culture, and personal aspirations in ways we rarely recognize.
2장
The Ancient Paradox: From Divine Gift to Human Pursuit
The ancient Greeks viewed happiness (eudaimonia) not as a feeling but as divine favor-literally having a "good spirit" (eu-daimon) on your side. This conception framed happiness as largely beyond human control, subject to the whims of fate and fortune. As Solon wisely advised King Croesus, no person could be judged happy until after death, when their complete life story could be assessed. The linguistic connection between happiness and luck persists across Indo-European languages: the English "happiness" derives from "happ" (chance), French "bonheur" from "heur" (luck), and Greek "eudaimonia" connects good fortune with divine favor.
Yet ironically, in democratic Athens, where citizens governed themselves with remarkable equality, a revolutionary new perspective emerged. Socrates dramatically shifted philosophical attention from natural science to ethics, proposing that happiness was within human grasp. "What being is there who does not desire happiness?" he asked, transforming Croesus's quest from hubris to the highest form of inquiry. For Socrates, happiness meant something loftier than mere pleasure-it required disciplining desires toward genuine good and beauty.
Plato's Symposium illustrates this vision through its discussion of Eros (desire). While earlier speakers connect love to happiness in various ways, Socrates maintains that Eros represents desire itself-the acknowledgment that one lacks something essential. He describes an arduous ascent to happiness: from loving individual physical beauty to beauty in general, then to beauty of mind, and finally to the pure form of beauty itself. This contemplation produces a moment when "life is worth living"-a sort of intellectual orgasm where desire is sated and happiness flows forth.
Aristotle approached happiness more practically, defining it as "an activity of the soul expressing virtue." Unlike Plato's quasi-mystical ideas, Aristotle acknowledged popular conceptions of happiness, defining it broadly as "prosperity combined with virtue," including good birth, friends, wealth, children, bodily excellences, fame, honor, good luck, and virtue. Yet even Aristotle ultimately concluded that the highest happiness comes through pure contemplation-a godlike activity "superior to the human level." For most people, true happiness remained unattainable-barred by birth and circumstance-while even the elite fell short of the godlike activity of contemplation.
3장
The Stoic and Epicurean Response: Controlling Desire
By the close of the fourth century BCE, happiness had become the undisputed goal of all philosophical schools. Yet the proliferation of competing approaches revealed that earlier philosophers had raised expectations they couldn't entirely fulfill, offering happiness only to the godlike few. Epicurus and Zeno (founder of Stoicism) addressed this problem by focusing explicitly on alleviating human pain.
Though seemingly opposed-Epicurus claiming "pleasure is the beginning and goal of a happy life" while Zeno emphasized virtue alone-both schools actually converged in their ascetic approach to desire. Epicurus defined pleasure negatively as the absence of bodily pain and mental anguish, achievable through "sober reasoning" that examines our motives. Far from hedonism, Epicureanism demanded strict regulation of desire, teaching that our necessary desires are extremely limited: "The requirements for happiness are few."
Similarly, Stoics taught that happiness comes from bringing our individual natures into harmony with the rational order of the universe through virtue. They rejected even the importance of pleasure and pain, with Cicero arguing that the virtuous man would be happy even under torture.
Both philosophies offered the same radical prescription: happiness comes from the ratio of satisfied desires to total desires. By drastically restricting our wants, we ensure our ability to satisfy them fully. Most significantly, while Plato and Aristotle restricted happiness to the privileged few, Epicurus and Zeno proposed to make gods of many. Epicurus accepted women and slaves into his garden, while Stoics preached the natural kinship of all humankind.
4장
Christianity's Revolution: Finding Joy in Suffering
Christ's beatitudes promised a radical new vision of happiness: "Happy are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Happy are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Happy are you who weep now, for you will laugh." This lavish promise was partly recognizable to readers of Jewish scripture, but Christ's means were strikingly different. While earlier sages counseled avoiding suffering, Christ recommended its active embrace.
Perpetua's diary offers a window into how early Christians embraced this alternate path. For Perpetua, martyrdom was not punishment but divine favor-the ultimate mark of the Holy Spirit's grace. Her vivid dreams reveal what ultimately moved these early Christians to sacrifice everything. She envisions climbing "a ladder of tremendous height" past a dragon and weapons, reaching heaven itself. These premonitions offered concrete images of paradise: "an immense garden" with a shepherd giving her milk that tasted sweet even after waking.
Augustine, the most influential church father on happiness, made the search for higher happiness his ultimate goal. After exploring various philosophical schools and pursuing professional success, he experienced a profound realization of his misery. Observing a laughing beggar in the street, he confessed that despite his ambitions, he had failed to reach "the goal of peaceful happiness" that this simple man had achieved with "a few pence."
Augustine's conversion to Christianity became not only "the way" to happiness but also the explanation for why all other earthly pursuits fail. In his work The Happy Life, he concludes that happiness must "always endure" and cannot be "snatched away through any severe misfortune." True happiness is "fullness" flowing so that one lacks nothing, being filled with the "supreme measure" of wisdom. To be happy is to "have God within the soul," to "enjoy God." Yet Augustine recognizes that neither goal is attainable in earthly life-we remain seekers, not yet "wise and happy" despite God's help.
5장
Medieval Paths to Happiness: Mystical Flight and Earthly Journey
Medieval paths to happiness evolved through different visions: martyrdom as rapid ascent, Augustine's difficult journey sustained by hope, and mystical flight of the soul. The thirteenth century introduced yet another way-combining locomotion with lift along what Saint Thomas Aquinas likened to a "ladder of being."
Aquinas constructed his vision of the universe's ordered hierarchy around this central symbol, describing a progression from non-living bodies at the lowest level, through plants, animals, humans, angels, and finally God as "pure intellect above the highest rung." While confirming Augustine's teachings that "true happiness" is impossible in life and comes only in heaven, Aquinas proposed something revolutionary: the possibility of "imperfect happiness" on earth while traveling toward the "perfect happiness" of heaven.
This "double happiness" (duplex felicitas) included an earthly happiness through natural capacities and a divine happiness in the afterlife. While maintaining a clear hierarchy between these forms, Aquinas opened space for "some partial happiness" in this life, restoring agency to individuals and dignity to the world itself. "Human nature," he observed, "is not so completely corrupted by sin as to be totally lacking in natural goodness."
Medieval Europe was crisscrossed with pilgrimage routes, marked by roadside stones and walkways smoothed by countless feet. Pilgrims traveled to sacred sites seeking spiritual fulfillment, hoping to reach thresholds where the dark curtains of the world opened slightly to reveal eternal light. As Chaucer's knight declares in Canterbury Tales, "The world is but a thoroughfare of woe, and we are pilgrims passing to and fro..." The medieval pilgrim understood that "ever the latter end of joy is woe," expressing life's journey in essentially tragic terms.
6장
Renaissance Rebirth: The Dignity of Earthly Life
Giovanni Pico della Mirandola's "On the Dignity of Man" (1486) is often invoked as the Renaissance manifesto. In Pico's text, God tells Adam: "thou art confined by no bounds; and thou wilt fix limits of nature for thyself... Thou, like a judge appointed for being honorable, art the molder and maker of thyself." Yet contrary to interpretations of Pico as a harbinger of modernity, a closer reading reveals his thoroughly conventional Christian worldview. For Pico, true dignity comes from ascending toward God up the great ladder of being.
Renaissance humanists didn't discover man or his happiness, but they revitalized interest in both through passionate engagement with classical texts. They hunted lost manuscripts, searched forgotten monastery corners, and sifted through ancient ruins. Leonardo Bruni produced a fresh translation of Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics, while others gathered and republished Roman Stoics and reacquainted Europeans with Epicurus. By 1440, more than twenty-one translations of Plato's works were completed.
Renaissance medicine reengaged with classical tradition to treat excessive sadness as an aberration rather than the natural effect of original sin. Medical literature on melancholy flourished in the sixteenth century, culminating in Robert Burton's comprehensive Anatomy of Melancholy (1621), which aimed to "prevent and cure" this "epidemical disease" that "so often, so much, crucifies the body and mind."
Martin Luther's revolutionary understanding of happiness emerged from his own struggles with melancholy. His injunction that Christians should "be merry" offered a powerful endorsement of earthly good feeling. For Luther, living as a justified person meant experiencing the world as a "pleasure garden for the soul." Since God originally intended humans to be happy, making merry became a way to serve Him and spite the Devil. The Reformation "sanctified the ordinary" and commanded followers to be "joyful in all things," thereby moralizing and consecrating mood.
7장
The Enlightenment Revolution: Happiness as Natural Right
The Enlightenment transformed happiness from a marker of godlike perfection to a natural human endowment attainable by all. Where classical philosophy and Christian practice saw happiness as the preserve of a "happy few" whose virtue or divine favor made them exceptional, Enlightenment thinkers presented it as something all humans could achieve in this life. This revolutionary shift positioned happiness not as a gift from God or trick of fate, but as humanity's default position-a "self-evident truth" to be pursued in the here and now.
Thomas Jefferson's "pursuit of happiness" in the Declaration of Independence and the French Revolution's goal of securing the "happiness of all" marked the beginning of a great human pursuit that continues today. "Does not everyone have a right to happiness?" asked the Abbe Pestre in the French encyclopedia edited by Denis Diderot-an extraordinary question by the standards of the preceding millennium and a half.
Material factors played a role in this shift: nation-states with standing armies and civil administrations better able to guarantee security; advances in agricultural productivity; the expansion of trade and consumer cultures providing disposable income for fashion and entertainment. Europe's population grew from 120 million to nearly 190 million in the eighteenth century, sustained by declining mortality rates and longer lifespans. Consumer goods-from Brazilian coffee to West Indian sugar, Virginia tobacco to British porcelain-became available to wider segments of the population.
The principle of "the greatest happiness of the greatest number" became the cornerstone of Enlightenment utility theory. Though commonly associated with Jeremy Bentham, this phrase was employed by many before him. Bentham's 1776 Fragment of Government merely reiterated what was already a widespread eighteenth-century conviction when he defined utility as approving or disapproving actions according to their tendency to augment or diminish happiness.
Yet the practical application of this principle proved challenging. How could pleasure be measured? Bentham proposed six criteria: intensity, duration, certainty or uncertainty, propinquity or remoteness, fecundity, and purity. But he acknowledged the serious limitations of his method, even confessing the impossibility of assigning a value to intensity. In an undated manuscript, he even questioned the comparability of pleasure: "One man's happiness will never be another man's happiness: a gain to one man is no gain to another: you might as well pretend to add 20 apples to 20 pears."
8장
The Dark Side of the Happiness Pursuit
The limits of the Enlightenment's utilitarian approach to happiness are vividly illustrated through the controversial figure of Julien Offray de La Mettrie. His materialist view claimed that just as the soul could not be found in human matter, neither could God be found in the universe. "The world will never be happy until it is atheist," he declared, arguing that without religion, "nature infected by a sacred poison would recover its rights and purity."
La Mettrie's radical hedonism exposed a fundamental weakness in Enlightenment thought: how could one combat rampant hedonism using the pleasure/pain calculus? Utilitarians like Bentham countered that utility meant maximizing pleasure for the greatest number, not just individual gratification. Yet this response merely patched over the problem without solving it. If humans were moved solely by sensations of pleasure and pain, why should individuals sacrifice for others?
Jean-Jacques Rousseau rejected the Enlightenment equation of happiness with pleasure, insisting "Happiness is not pleasure." For him, true happiness must be "a single and lasting state" rather than fleeting moments that leave "our hearts still empty and anxious." Rousseau believed that in humanity's pristine state, people were perfectly content because their needs harmonized with their desires. What disrupted this harmony was "perfectibility"-the faculty of self-improvement that enables progress but breeds restlessness and dissatisfaction.
Since unhappiness arises from "the disproportion between our desires and our faculties," progress-with its expanding horizon of possibilities-continually undermines our peace. Modern commercial culture had unleashed desire with unprecedented force, creating the paradox that "It is by dint of agitating ourselves to increase our happiness that we convert it into unhappiness."
9장
Revolutionary Happiness and Its Contradictions
The French Revolution heralded a radical new conception of happiness throughout Europe, transforming it from a private pursuit into a public mandate. The Declaration of Rights of Man (1789) boldly pledged to work for the "happiness of everyone," elevating collective well-being to a fundamental political right. This was further codified in the Constitution of 1793, which declared in its first article: "The goal of society is common happiness." Maximilien Robespierre, one of the revolution's most influential figures, demanded citizens "Occupy yourself uniquely with the happiness of a great people and the happiness of humanity." Louis Antoine de Saint-Just's famous proclamation in spring 1794 that happiness was "a new idea in Europe" captured the revolutionary spirit of this transformation.
Yet this revolutionary conception of happiness revealed deep contradictions and often came at a devastating human cost. Representatives like Joseph-Marie Lequinio, armed with extraordinary powers, were dispatched across France to suppress counter-revolutionary activities through violent means. When the Convention decreed that "terror was the order of the day," these agents took this directive to extreme lengths. Lequinio became notorious for his brutality, not only orchestrating mass executions by guillotine but personally participating in killings. He would travel from city to city, leaving a trail of death and proudly boasting of "blowing the brains out" of prisoners, all in the name of securing collective happiness.
The relationship between revolutionary happiness and Christianity proved particularly complex and paradoxical. Despite the Jacobins' fierce anti-clerical stance and explicit rejection of religious doctrine, their vision of happiness bore striking parallels to Christian theology. Lequinio's idealization of "the man who makes a sacrifice of himself" - willing to give his life for humanity's salvation - clearly echoed Christian martyrdom and Christ's sacrifice. His rhetoric frequently employed quasi-religious imagery and concepts, even as he denounced traditional faith.
Most revealing was how revolutionary discourse appropriated religious structures of meaning while claiming to reject them. Lequinio's sermons typically concluded by invoking a utopian future vision of happiness - precisely the kind of "promise of a future life" he had earlier condemned in Christianity - to justify present-day violence and sacrifice. His millennial vision looked forward to when "all tyrannies will be annihilated... all thrones will crumble, all limits be effaced" and "humanity will live as a single family." This secular paradise, like the Christian heaven it implicitly mimicked, required absolute faith from its adherents and demanded earthly suffering in exchange for future redemption. The revolutionaries had, perhaps unwittingly, created their own religion of happiness, complete with its own martyrs, prophets, and promised land.
10장
The Romantic Response: Joy Through Suffering
As the Enlightenment's promise of happiness collided with the harsh realities of modern life, a new sensibility emerged. Heinrich Heine's famous poem "Die Lorelei" begins with the haunting line "I do not know what this can mean, that I am so sad." This nameless pain exemplified a new cultural phenomenon-Weltschmerz or "world suffering"-that spread across Europe in the early nineteenth century.
The Romantics rediscovered what Christianity had long embraced: the transformative power of suffering. Unlike the Enlightenment view that pain was unnecessary and contingent, something to be banished, the Romantics saw suffering as natural to the human condition. As Heine observed, Christianity had been "a blessing for suffering humanity" for eighteen centuries, with "the blood of the crucified Christ" serving as a "soothing balm" that could transform pain into "uncanny pleasure."
Joy stands as "a central and recurrent term in the Romantic vocabulary," distinct from yet related to happiness. It wells up from within and rains down from above-the counterpoint to despair and often its bosom brother. In Coleridge's "Dejection: An Ode," joy appears as "strong music in the soul," a "light," a "glory," a "fair luminous mist," and a "beauty-making power" that "wedding Nature to us gives in dower a New Earth and new Heaven."
The Romantic conception of joy rested on two fundamental assumptions. First, they rejected the Enlightenment view of the mind as a passive recipient of sense impressions, instead seeing it as an active force that shapes experience-not a mirror reflecting the world but a lamp projecting outward. Second, they believed there was more to the universe than matter in motion; they sensed Spirit, Idea, Life, Mind, Nature-an organic force binding all living things.
11장
The Modern Dilemma: Happiness in a Disenchanted World
Arthur Schopenhauer stands as the Western tradition's greatest pessimist. He believed his contemporaries suffered from massive delusion: "Every immoderate joy always rests on the delusion that we have found something in life that is not to be met with at all, namely permanent satisfaction." The fundamental cause of human suffering, he argued, lies within us-in what he called the "will-to-life" (Wille zum Leben).
This will-to-life, a surging force permeating all living things, has no teleological meaning or purpose. It is blind, striving without aim simply to reproduce itself. With the will's desires unlimited and claims inexhaustible, no satisfaction could ever still its craving. Pain, Schopenhauer argues, is "positive" while pleasure is merely "negative"-felt only as the absence of discomfort. Happiness is thus the will's mirage on the horizon of longing, a "chimera," and the "notion that we exist in order to be happy" is the only "inborn error."
For those unable to follow the ascetic path of renunciation, Schopenhauer offers one merciful alternative-aesthetic contemplation. Before great art, we achieve temporary respite from desire. In music especially, which he called "the copy of the will itself," we experience the fullness of desire's patterns in their "extracted quintessence," achieving momentary peace.
Freud's analysis of happiness recognized that humans face three sources of suffering: our own decaying bodies, the destructive external world, and our relationships with others. In response, people employ various strategies to pursue happiness, but Freud concluded that "the program of becoming happy... cannot be fulfilled" yet insisted we must continue striving for it. This was humanity's tragic predicament: noble in our defiance despite inevitable defeat.
12장
The Happiness Paradox: Our Modern Condition
The modern pursuit of happiness intensified in the 1960s, symbolized by Harvey Ball's creation of the smiley face in 1963. Originally designed for an insurance company merger, it sold fifty million buttons by 1971 alone. This constant bombardment of cheerful imagery marks a significant cultural shift from earlier generations who rarely presented themselves as perpetually happy.
We've undeniably traveled far materially. Life expectancy in the United States rose from about 47 years in 1900 to around 77 years in 2000, with similar increases in Europe. Yet surveys since 1950 show Americans describing themselves as "happy" has remained constant at 60 percent, while those "very happy" declined from 7.5 to 6 percent. Meanwhile, unipolar depression has risen sharply.
Recent research suggests genetics plays a significant role in determining our happiness. David Lykken, who initially estimated that 50 percent of happiness is heritable, now believes nearly 100 percent of variation in happiness set points stems from genetic differences. Others studying happiness heritability rarely put the figure below 50 percent.
As Pascal Bruckner observed, where once God was happiness, happiness has since become our god-a taskmaster sometimes as hard as the deity it sought to replace. The tension between the belief that humans are meant to be happy and mounting evidence to the contrary defines our cultural landscape. Happiness has become both the "sole horizon of our democracies" and an elusive dream, a modern faith carrying the deepest longings of old.