How not to buy happiness explores the paradox of money not buying happiness:
Considerable evidence suggests that if we use an increase in our incomes, as many of us do, simply to buy bigger houses and more expensive cars, then we do not end up any happier than before. But if we use an increase in our incomes to buy more of certain inconspicuous goods — such as freedom from a long commute or a stressful job — then the evidence paints a very different picture. The less we spend on conspicuous consumption goods, the better we can afford to alleviate congestion; and the more time we can devote to family and friends, to exercise, sleep, travel, and other restorative activities. On the best available evidence, reallocating our time and money in these and similar ways would result in healthier, longer — and happier — lives.
Humans are remarkably adaptable, but we’re not equally adaptable in all dimensions. Some things we think we adapt to just fine, but our body still reacts to negatively:
One strand in this literature focuses on the experience of urban bus drivers, whose exposure to the stresses of heavy traffic is higher than that of most commuters, but who have also had greater opportunity to adapt to those stresses. A disproportionate share of the absenteeism of urban bus drivers stems from stress-related illnesses such as gastrointestinal problems, headaches, and anxiety. Many studies have found sharply elevated rates of hypertension among bus drivers relative to those of a variety of control groups, including a control group of bus drivers pre-employment. Additional studies have found elevations of stress hormones such as adrenaline, noradrenaline, and cortisol in urban bus drivers. And one study found elevations of adrenaline and noradrenaline to be strongly positively correlated with the density of the traffic with which the bus drivers had to contend. More than half of all urban bus drivers retire prematurely with some form of medical disability.
Some forms of inconspicuous consumption have been rising; others have been declining:
There have been increases in the annual number of hours spent at work in the United States during the last two decades; traffic has grown considerably more congested; savings rates have fallen precipitously; personal bankruptcy filings are at an alltime high; and there is at least a widespread perception that employment security and autonomy have fallen sharply. Declines in these and other forms of inconspicuous consumption may well have offset the effects of increases in others.
Why do people decide to spend their money the way they do?
That many purchases become more attractive to us when others make them means that consumption spending has much in common with a military arms race. A family can choose how much of its own money to spend, but it cannot choose how much others spend. Buying a smaller-than-average vehicle means greater risk of dying in an accident. Spending less on an interview suit means a greater risk of not landing the best job. Yet when all spend more on heavier cars and more finely tailored suits, the results tend to be mutually offsetting, just as when all nations spend more on armaments. Spending less — on bombs or on personal consumption — frees up money for other pressing uses, but only if everyone does it.