On March 20, the United Nations Sustainable Development Solutions Network released its annual World Happiness Report, which rates well-being in countries around the world. For the sixth year in a row, Finland was ranked at the very top.
But Finns themselves say the ranking points to a more complex reality. “I wouldn’t say that I consider us very happy,” said Nina Hansen, 58, a high school English teacher from Kokkola, a midsize city on Finland’s west coast. “I’m a little suspicious of that word, actually.”
Hansen was one of more than a dozen Finns whom The New York Times spoke to — including a Zimbabwean immigrant, a folk metal violinist, a former Olympian and a retired dairy farmer — about what, supposedly, makes Finland so happy. The subjects ranged in age from 13 to 88 and represented a variety of genders, sexual orientations, ethnic backgrounds and professions. They came from Kokkola as well as the capital, Helsinki; Turku, a city on the southwestern coast; and three villages in southern, eastern and western Finland.
While people praised Finland’s strong social safety net and spoke glowingly of the psychological benefits of nature and the personal joys of sports or music, they also talked about guilt, anxiety and loneliness. Rather than “happy,” they were more likely to characterise Finns as “quite gloomy,” “a little moody” or not given to unnecessary smiling.
It turns out even the happiest people in the world aren’t that happy. But they are something more like content.
Finns derive satisfaction from leading sustainable lives and perceive financial success as being able to identify and meet basic needs, said Arto O. Salonen, a professor at the University of Eastern Finland who has researched well-being in Finnish society. “In other words,” he wrote in an email, “when you know what is enough, you are happy.”
“‘Happiness’ — sometimes it’s a light word and used like it’s only a smile on a face,” said Teemu Kiiski, the CEO of Finnish Design Shop. “But I think that this Nordic happiness is something more foundational.”
The high quality of life in Finland is deeply rooted in the nation’s welfare system, said Kiiski, 47, who lives in Turku. “It makes people feel safe and secure to not be left out of society.”
Public funding for education and the arts, including individual artist grants, gives people like his wife, Hertta Kiiski, 49, a mixed-media artist, the freedom to pursue their creative passions. “It also affects the kind of work that we make, because we don’t have to think of the commercial value of art,” Hertta Kiiski said. “So what a lot of the artists here make is very experimental.”
As a Black person in Finland — which is more than 90 per cent white — Jani Toivola, 45, spent much of his life feeling isolated. “Too often, I think, you still feel, as a Black gay man in Finland, that you are the only person in the room,” Toivola said. His father, who was Kenyan, was absent for much of his life, and Toivola, whose mother is white, struggled to find Black role models he could relate to.
In 2011, he became the first Black member of Finland’s Parliament, where he helped lead the fight for the legalisation of same-sex marriage.
After serving two terms, Toivola left politics to pursue acting, dancing and writing. He now lives in Helsinki with his husband and daughter and continues to advocate for rights in Finland. “As a gay man, I still think it is a miracle that I get to watch my daughter grow,” he said.
The Teenagers Raised to Be Content
The conventional wisdom is that it’s easier to be happy in a country like Finland where the government ensures a secure foundation on which to build a fulfilling life and a promising future. But that expectation can also create pressure to live up to the national reputation.
“We are very privileged and we know our privilege,” said Clara Paasimaki, 19, one of Hansen’s students in Kokkola, “so we are also scared to say that we are discontent with anything, because we know that we have it so much better than other people,” especially in non-Nordic countries.
The Finnish way of life is summed up in “sisu,” a trait said to be part of the national character. The word roughly translates to “grim determination in the face of hardships,” such as the country’s long winters: Even in adversity, a Finn is expected to persevere, without complaining. — New York Times
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