From the start of unrecorded history humanity sought the favor of gods, the blessings of kings, and the wisdom of philosophers or (false) prophets. Now, in the age of data and dopamine, we have narrowed our aspirations to a single, radiant goal: happiness. Not merely the occasional joy of a fine wine or a clever witticism, but a constant, unbroken state of bliss – a right as undeniable as the air we breathe. Or so we tell ourselves.
That very human habit of chasing happiness like it’s a golden ticket… Somewhere along the line, we decided happiness wasn’t just nice to have – it was a right, as fundamental as air and water. If life doesn’t feel like a nonstop carnival, something must be wrong, and we set out to fix it. But Harari has bad news for us: happiness isn’t something you can chase down, wrap up, and keep. It’s more like a cat -it comes and goes as it pleases, and the harder you try to catch it, the faster it bolts under the couch.
According to Yuval Noah Harari, this obsession with happiness as a constant state is a relatively new invention. In earlier times, people were too busy surviving wars, famines, and plagues to worry about whether they were “fulfilled.” Back then, happiness was a rare treat, like stumbling across a good pie recipe. It wasn’t until the Enlightenment—when we started putting humans, not gods, at the center of the universe—that we decided happiness should be our permanent address.
The trouble, Harari points out, is that we’re trying to rewire a brain that wasn’t built for endless joy. Nature, that clever and slightly sadistic inventor, designed our minds to care about survival, not satisfaction. A burst of happiness is evolution’s way of saying, “Good job! Now, get back to work.” Once the hunt was over or the harvest was in, the happiness faded, replaced by the gnawing desire to do it all again. In other words, our ancestors didn’t sit around thinking, “Am I truly happy?” They were too busy wondering if that rustling in the bushes was dinner—or something that wanted to eat them.
Fast forward to today, and we’re still stuck on the same hedonic treadmill, as Harari calls it. No matter how much we achieve, the thrill wears off. You buy a shiny new car, and for a week or two, it feels like life itself has shifted into high gear. Then the car payment arrives, and it’s just another object in your garage. Achievements, possessions, and even relationships all have a way of losing their sparkle once they become familiar. Harari’s conclusion? Happiness is more about our expectations than our circumstances. If you expect fireworks and get sparklers, you’ll be disappointed every time.
Now, let’s not dismiss the whole idea of happiness altogether. The right to pursue it, at least, is worth hanging onto. The trouble starts when we confuse the pursuit with the prize. Harari warns that in our rush to be happy, we’re outsourcing the job to algorithms and marketers who promise quick fixes. They’ve got a gadget, app, or course for every problem, all designed to boost our happiness -right after they swipe our credit card. The danger isn’t just that we’ll waste money; it’s that we’ll forget how to look for happiness in simpler places, like a walk in the woods or a good joke at the dinner table.
And this is where Mark Twain might raise an eyebrow and chime in. Twain had a knack for deflating our grandiose ideas with a sharp wit and a dose of common sense. He might say that happiness is like weather: unpredictable, uncontrollable, and best enjoyed when it shows up unexpectedly. “You can’t make sunshine by yelling at the sky,” he’d quip. And he’d be right.
Harari’s critique reminds us that the harder we chase happiness, the more it feels like a trickster leading us in circles. The Taoists figured this out centuries ago when they suggested we stop trying so hard and let happiness come to us. Twain might call this the art of “loafing with purpose”—an approach that sounds a lot more appealing than endlessly striving for some mythical state of perfection.
But let’s not give up the chase. There’s value in trying to make life better for ourselves and others. The pursuit of happiness, even if it’s a bit misguided, is what keeps us dreaming, building, and laughing at our own missteps. The trick, perhaps, is not to take the whole thing too seriously. Missed trains, lost keys, and that neighbor’s barking dog – are as much a part of the ride as the moments of bliss.
So, where does that leave us? Maybe it’s time to stop treating happiness like a finish line and start treating it like a surprise guest: delightful when it shows up, but not something you can count on. Instead of chasing it, we might do better to focus on living well—sharing stories, doing work that matters, and finding humor in life’s quirks. And when happiness does appear, we should welcome it warmly, like an old friend who drops by unannounced.
After all, the secret to happiness isn’t in having everything go your way. It’s in learning to laugh when it doesn’t. And with that, let us raise a glass to the maddening joy of being alive.