From Happiness to Wholeness: Discovering the World’s Happiest Places to Live

How are you? Wait—don’t answer just yet. Give it a beat; let the question settle. Past the pat British, ‘can’t complain’ – usually with some reference to the weather tacked on. Unlike the Americans’ constitutionally enshrined “pursuit of happiness”, we have something more akin to the pursuit of ‘not too bad, thanks’. Yet despite these quite different sensibilities, we find ourselves right next to one another in the latest World Happiness Report (WHR). The UK and the US are in 23rd and 24th place (incidentally, both having fallen in recent years).

Let’s explore the top of the WHR rankings, considered the most comprehensive survey of its kind globally. In descending order, Finland, Denmark, Iceland, Sweden, and the Netherlands comprise the top five. So much has been written on the topics of ‘Hygge’ (‘contentment’), ‘Lagom’ (‘moderation’) and ‘Gezellig’ (‘cosiness’), and what makes these countries great places to be, but the abbreviated version is as follows: security—safety from hardship, war, etc; work-life balance—prioritising connection and community; equality— everyone is treated well and fairly; and abundant access to nature.

The bottom ten countries confirm, rather uncontroversially, that conflict, poverty, climate change, social instability, and trauma all stunt happiness. The majority are African; Afghanistan, Lebanon, and Venezuela are also among the regions with the lowest satisfaction levels worldwide.

Curiously, even though these Northern European countries have dominated since the inception of the WHR in 2013, the scores have remained roughly flat or even declined over the last three years. And here’s where the plot thickens even more: four of the top five highest-ranked nations are also the biggest consumers of antidepressants globally. Upside-down emoji.

It would be hard to argue against many of the positive outcomes of what author Michael Booth calls the ‘Nordic Miracle’ (‘The Almost Nearly Perfect People’). Still, something more complex is happening here if the happiest populations seemingly require pharmacological help to maintain what they’ve got.

The WHR ambitiously attempts to rank happiness by answers to a single question: ‘Please imagine a ladder with steps numbered from 0 at the bottom to 10 at the top. The top of the ladder represents your best possible life, and the bottom represents your worst possible life. On which step of the ladder would you say you feel you stand now?’

The ‘Cantril Ladder’ is a simple and accessible metaphor, so it is probably a good way to measure how nations feel in the round and over time. However, digging deeper into what makes certain countries the top-ranked locations for happiness, we see there’s more to the story than meets the eye. A review of the WHR found that its approach tends to make people focus on thoughts about power and wealth. Other research shows that people’s answers are heavily influenced by how they compare themselves to others financially and their relative income position. Interestingly, when researchers instead tried using concepts like ‘harmony’ as a measure, they got quite different results about the happiest places to live.

Over the years, thinkers have generally considered happiness in three ways. First, feelings in the moment, for example, having sex versus a boring commute. Second, a more evaluative, ‘am I doing well?’ assessment, for example, having a successful career versus being unemployed. And, finally, feelings about the meaning and purpose of one’s life: ‘Am I living well?’. Aristotle developed this deeper consideration of life – ‘Eudaemonia’. This third dimension is more about internal alignment – needing no social comparison as such – but accessible by looking inward. It is about, among other things, developing one’s unique potential, engaging in activities for their intrinsic value, contributing to the greater community, and living in balance. The Cantril Ladder under-indexes on the eudaimonic dimension when ranking the top locations for well-being worldwide.

Looking beyond the World Happiness Report, other places perform well based on different metrics. So-called ‘Blue Zones’ have an unusually high number of centenarians, who are also in excellent health, that is to say, not just benefiting from lifespan but ‘healthspan’. The five identified hotspots are: Okinawa, Japan; Sardinia, Italy; Nicoya Peninsula, Costa Rica; Ikaria, Greece; and Loma Linda, California (USA). Though none of these places are at the top of the WHR’s happiness leaderboard, they have aspects in common: social connection, work-life balance, and clean, accessible natural environments. The most interesting point of divergence is that they are not wealthy (with the possible exception of Loma Linda). The fact that Blue Zone inhabitants live almost twice as long as Sierra Leoneans (whose average age of mortality is 54 years) is poignant.

Let’s zoom in more and consider Okinawa, one of the world’s most remarkable communities for life satisfaction. Dan Buettner, author of ‘Blue Zones: Lessons on Living Longer from the People Who’ve Lived the Longest’, describes it as follows: “Older people are celebrated, [and] feel obligated to pass on their wisdom to younger generations… This gives them a purpose in life outside of themselves, in service to their communities”. They embody something called ‘Ikigai’. Although there is no direct translation, it’s akin to ‘value’, ‘worth’, “happiness in living”, or “your reason to get up in the morning”. Unlike the Cantril ladder’s evaluative framing, which invites reflecting upon the present and the past, Ikigai is present and future-oriented, allowing you to look forward even if you’re unhappy. Ikigai also embodies action, particularly small actions, and crucially, those in service to others.

There’s a fascinating difference between Okinawa and mainland Japan. Whilst Ikigai is still a thing, an affluent society optimised for comfort and entertainment seems to be at the cost of an inability to balance work and life, declining birth rates, and loss of social connection. 

Another interesting example is Bhutan’s Buddhist-inspired model, based on ‘Gross National Happiness’ (GNH). Introduced in the 1970s, it centres human progress on well-being, rather than GDP (Gross Domestic Product). Based on four pillars—sustainable development, cultural preservation, good governance, and environmental conservation—GNH is measured through a 33-indicator index across nine life domains. Although Bhutan doesn’t appear in the WHR’s list of top countries for life satisfaction, by its own [quite different] measure, GNH studies reveal a population with strong community ties and a growing sense of well-being, especially by non-material standards. However, there are ongoing threats to Bhutanese wellbeing, including more work pressure, unemployment and modernisation.

These cases reveal that true, enduring happiness is more complex than just ‘metrics’. Whether it’s the Nordic model’s structural security, Okinawa’s deeply rooted sense of purpose, or Bhutan’s holistic, culturally grounded GNH framework, each offers a different lens on what it means to live well. The takeaway is not to crown a winning location for joyful living, but to recognise that well-being arises from the interplay of meaning, connection, contribution, and balance—none of which are easily captured in surveys. If we want lives that are not just ‘not too bad’, perhaps we should stop aiming at happiness and start cultivating wholeness, no matter where we make our home.