The problem with money is the more of it people earn, the more they tend to spend. A pay rise consequently can often result in only short-term gains in happiness, because the extra cash is often spent on nicer clothes, better food or more exotic holidays, resulting in concerns that the more expensive lifestyle cannot be maintained. A lottery win, salary increase or unexpected inheritance from a distant relative does increase happiness, but not for as long as you might expect. Happiness is much more than money. Individuals seem to have a baseline level of happiness that they return to. Increases or decreases in happiness (excluding depression) tend to be short-lived. Psychologists refer to our tendency to return to our baseline level of happiness with a great phrase: the hedonic treadmill.
People have a tendency to compare themselves with their friends and colleagues. These comparisons can become obsessive, and when they do, they usually result in a decrease in happiness. One reason why social media can be pernicious for some people is that the steady stream of apparent success in Facebook, Instagram or X feeds reduces happiness through leading to feelings of inadequacy. I deleted my Facebook and Twitter accounts several years ago, and although I had withdrawal symptoms for a few days, I have not missed them. I will likely need to sign up again to social media to promote this book, but the thought doesn’t fill me with joy – even if any extra income from doing so buys me a couple of weeks of happiness.
Comparing oneself to one’s peers and friends can reduce happiness, but having a strong friendship circle is healthy. Humans are a social species, and strong social bonds are important for happiness. This starts at home, with people whose partner is also their best friend tending to be happiest. I can relate to this. Sonya is my best friend, and that does make me happy. When she travels, I miss her and I am not as happy as when we are both in Oxford. But contact with other friends is important too. The absolute number of friends does not seem to be hugely important, rather the strengths of some of the friendships are key. Having one or two close friends can lead to greater happiness than having many tens of friendly acquaintances.
Friends are important for happiness, but comparison to them is not, and these observations underpin a strategy that appears to help improve happiness – keeping a gratitude diary. Writing down things you are grateful for can help quash negative emotions brought about by worrying you are not doing as well as your friends or colleagues are. Positive thoughts do improve happiness. If you keep a gratitude diary, you shouldn’t write entries in it too often. Turning to your diary more than two or three times a week can lead to stress about not having enough to be grateful for.
A final thing that does seem to contribute to happiness is a sense of fulfilment in work. If your job is not a chore, then the happier you will be. I can relate to this following a series of unexpected events that happened to me at work since moving to Oxford in 2013 that, surprisingly, made me happy.
Part of my Oxford employment contract stated that, if asked, I would have to take on the role of head of department. I was assured when I was negotiating terms that this would not happen for very many years. However, by 2016 I was being suggested as a possibility for the next head of the Zoology department. So too was Ben Sheldon, a good friend and colleague. Neither of us wanted the job, but one of us had to do it, and it was up to the faculty to decide. Ben and I fought a campaign to lose the vote. Ben’s campaign strategy was to do nothing, while I actively campaigned for him, and I was delighted when he was appointed department head and I his deputy. I knew I was next in the firing line, but I would have five years in which to write this book. Or so I thought.
Five months later, the building which housed both my department, the Zoology Department, and the Department of Experimental Psychology was shut with twenty-four hours’ notice due to airborne asbestos levels crossing a health-and-safety executive threshold. The risk to users of the building was minimal, but the closure was a crisis for the departments involved, and the university. The Tinbergen Building had been the University of Oxford’s largest research and teaching edifice, with 1,650 people regularly using it, and its closure created a major headache. It very quickly became clear to both Ben and me that dealing with the repercussions of the closure was going to occupy our lives for months, if not years.
The university organized frequent crisis meetings to work out what to do. These were chaired by the head of the university’s administration and were attended by about twenty people, mostly senior administrators. It very quickly became clear to me that the university wanted to find a way to solve the problem of two homeless departments as painlessly as possible, and ideally without spending a fortune. I realized they would likely sort out a short-term solution of where to house those displaced by the building closure quite quickly, but that a longer-term solution was going to be much harder as there were no empty suitable buildings. This posed a huge threat and a massive opportunity for the department, and Ben asked me if I would lead on a strategy to dodge the threats and realize the opportunity.
I liked this challenge, and although I had never much liked the idea of putting my research on pause, I found that taking on the strategic role was rewarding. I felt I was achieving something. I developed, with input from many others, a vision and financial case for Biology at Oxford. It involved delivering an exciting new undergraduate course we had already begun planning, merging the Department of Zoology with the Department of Plant Sciences to form a new Department of Biology, growing the new department by about 25 per cent, and persuading the university to construct a building to house the new department, along with the Department of Experimental Psychology. Although Ben and I had no training on how to do this, and largely made it up as we went along, we had success in selling the vision to a few key people who encouraged us to develop it further. I twigged that to deliver the vision, we needed to sell it across the university’s decision-making committees, and that involved me standing in an election to become a trustee of the university. I was elected following a ballot, and I became a member of the University Council, equivalent to the board of trustees.
The vision was accepted by the university, which agreed to a new building. We launched the new course, the merger date was set for 1st August 2022, and the department grew. However, becoming a member of the council had a cost I hadn’t expected. I was asked to join and chair several committees, and this meant I was doing no research. Despite that, I did feel my job had purpose, and although I was extraordinarily busy, I was surprisingly happy. It also helped that Sonya, too, was very supportive.
Ben, too, was overloaded with administrative work that stemmed from delivering our vision for Biology. We have contrasting skill sets, and once detailed planning for the approved new building began, Ben took charge of ensuring it met department needs. I stood back from my role in fundraising for the building and became joint head of department, with Ben and I sharing the role. Eventually Ben stepped back as head of department and I took up the reins. I led the department through the pandemic, spending hours on Microsoft Teams each day, but by the beginning of 2021 the time had come round to vote for the next department head. Flatteringly, but frustratingly, the faculty voted for me to continue until the move into the new building. The problem I had was that I was no longer enjoying the job. We had delivered the vision, and that had given me purpose, but the day-to-day running of the department was not rewarding. It is a job that needs to be done, but I did not find it fulfilling. Nonetheless, I agreed to accept on the condition I could take a year’s sabbatical in Australia. I needed a chance to resurrect my research and write this book.