It’s another dark, dreary day, and I can hear the pitter-patter of rain on the roof. The sky beyond looks ominous. I drag myself out of bed, have a shower and pull out my usual outfit of woollen pants, thermal under-layers, cashmere or wool jumpers (yes, plural), a down coat, my scarf and matching beanie, and a pair of woollen socks. I then slip my feet into fur-lined, chunky, black boots, grab an umbrella and ready myself for the freezing day ahead.
I’m an Aussie expat living in the second happiest country in the world, Denmark, a northern European nation a stone’s throw from Finland which has, for the seventh time in a row, topped the World Happiness Report.
The report is based on a Gallup World Poll sample of 100,000 people from 130 countries who rate their own happiness from 0 (the worst possible life) to 10 (the best). And researchers use the results to extrapolate the role of GDP, life expectancy, generosity, social support and so on in the final score.
Once again this year, the results set the world into a flurry as other nations asked, what are these Nordic people doing so right, and what can the rest of us learn from them?
Helsinki born-and-bred Aino Keskinen believes the key to happiness is feeling safe. I meet her through my Danish friend, Marie Austevoll, a 23-year-old childhood educator who helped look after my toddler when we first arrived in Aarhus, Denmark’s second biggest city, for my partner’s fellowship at the local university.
Aino, a Bachelor of Music graduate, says she loves always having someone to turn to, whether that’s a friend or the state. “I don’t ever feel lonely,” she explains. “I also don’t have to stress about money that much. Even though Helsinki is the most expensive city in Finland to live in, I have a job, I get to buy the clothes and food I need and want, and I get to invest in concerts, festivals and music.”
Aino reckons the darkness and cold also play a part. “For some, the dark time has its own aesthetic, and they enjoy this period. But for most of us, it has a very negative effect,” she says. “I can never get used to it; every time the winter falls, it feels as bad as last year’s.”
Before I moved to Aarhus, I knew it would be cold. Scandinavian winters are brutal – temperatures can plummet to -25, and snow is not uncommon even in spring. I just didn’t realise it would be quite this cold, and for so long. We’re nearing May, and while the trees and flowers are blooming, the weather remains abysmal. I wander the streets, often covered head to toe in my ugly-yetfunctional parka, the only coat that keeps the wind out and warmth in (despite finding an amazing Max Mara coat at a consignment store which I am desperate to wear).
Like many people, I’ve read about ‘hygge’, that sweet little word that defines Denmark’s love of all things cosy. Hygge, I’ve been told, is what makes living in sub-Arctic temperatures and six-month darkness bearable. It includes the warm lamps strategically placed around restaurants, cafes and homes; fires kindling in corners; plush cushions scattered around couches and big, wool rugs warming the wooden floors. Still, I didn’t understand how it was possible to be happy in a country with so little sunlight and such intense, brainfreezing Arctic winds, until I accepted that it will never, ever get warm.
Danes have been telling me for months that spring is coming, that it will be so wonderful I won’t know what hit me. In the last week I’ve stopped believing them, and strangely it has helped. When I told my daughter’s childcare educator, Camilla, about my change of attitude, she laughed. “The trick is to lower your expectations, then you can never be disappointed,” she told me. And I think this might explain at least in part why the Danes score so highly on happiness.
Once I stopped obsessing about the weather I started to see the cosiness – the wine bars dotting the streets, the friends who visit the pool together, pottery classes filled with families. I’ve also started paying more attention to the trust that underpins so much of Danish society – the unlocked bikes and expensive prams; the racks of second-hand clothing outside people’s homes, accompanied by the seller’s “MobilePay” number (a method of paying by entering their phone number); and the care everyone takes to keep their streets clean and cities peaceful.
I mention my observations to Tone Tardeng, a 63-year-old line producer in the animation industry. “We feel very safe in Denmark. We know that if someone falls they will be taken care of,” Tone explains. Trust, she says, is a reciprocal relationship: The society trusts itself and its authorities to help them, and the authorities trust society to behave in the best interests of others.
In general, Nordic countries tend to score particularly highly in the happiness poll on social support and freedom questions. That’s because they share high taxes and a large public sector, have broad, universal public support services and the government makes significant investments in health, education and training.
Sometimes, however, this sense of trust in the system can translate into inertia. Jennifer* is a 37-year-old Copenhagen expat who has lived in at least five countries. While she also grew up in Scandinavia, her Eastern European background meant she has never felt at home in the region.
“I moved to Denmark five years ago,” she tells me. “In the time I’ve been here, I can count on one hand how many Danish friends I have. It’s really hard to infiltrate the friendship groups here, because people tend to make friends in school and just stick to those forever.”
While Jennifer is grateful for the lifestyle living in Copenhagen affords her – “I work nine to five, I get paid fairly, I can ride my bike everywhere and I have access to a lot of cultural events” – she struggles with the Danes’ reserved nature, and what she calls their “surface level happiness”.
“They live on the surface, and they never put their head under water, so they never get to know themselves, what they like or don’t like,” Jennifer says. “I really don’t think people are that happy: They just don’t talk about their problems.”
Tone agrees Danes often come across as reserved, but says it’s not unfriendly. “It has to do with respect and not getting involved in each other’s business.”
Finnish national Katariina (Kata) Tikkala, 34, has been living in Denmark for the past year. When I first arrived here I assumed there wasn’t much difference between the Nordic countries. But the longer you remain in Scandinavia the more visible the nuances become. Kata believes it might be the ability to be satisfied with less that differentiates Finns from Danes.
“I think Finns don’t expect quite so much,” she tells me over lunch. “Finland was a very poor country 100 years ago, and that weighs heavily on our selfesteem, and means that generational wealth transfer isn’t quite as common as in Denmark. As a result it may take people a little less to be happy.”
Like Aino, Kata credits a good work-life balance, access to family and friends and a strong financial safety net as the main sources of her happiness. She is also an avid skier, having spent much of her childhood travelling, chasing the next great ‘powder’ (snow).
I ask if losing her job (at a design agency) would drastically affect her sense of security. “I’m part of an unemployment insurance fund where you pay an annual membership fee to be compensated in relation to your salary in case of job loss,” she says. To date, Kate has amassed roughly 400 days of freedom. “It makes me feel very secure to know I have ample time to find a new job if something were to happen.”
It is this appreciation for the small things, as well as a feeling of security, that strike me as the keys to happiness in Denmark, Finland and the rest of Scandinavia. People often leave work at 3pm to pick up their kids, and family and leisure time is protected by the state in a way I’ve yet to see in Australia.
This bears out in data. According to the OECD Better Life report, Danes have a better work-life balance than any other country surveyed, with only 2 per cent of employees regularly working very long hours. Instead, they spend about two-thirds of their day eating, sleeping, engaging in hobbies and being social. Finns and Danes feel they’re generally paid fairly, and that the government has their best interests at heart.
“If you ask Finns what makes life there satisfying, it’s most probably a well-functioning government and a robust welfare system,” says Dr Jennifer DePaolo, a researcher in social psychology at the University of Helsinki. Their love of nature also helps, with studies showing that Finnish people often associate nature with happiness.
For Aino and her friends, the World Happiness Report is both a source of pride and scepticism. Yes, it’s nice for your nation to be constantly cited as the happiest in the world, but sometimes the ranking obscures the fact many Finns struggle with mental health issues which, while reflective of global trends, are not being treated at the same rate as in the rest of Europe.
A recent report found Finland’s health expenditure is 11 per cent below the EU average, and lower than other Nordic countries. Finnish households pay more for healthcare than their Nordic neighbours. The report also found that, in 2022, the number of Finns reporting unmet medical care needs was nearly three times higher than the EU average. Yet, here they are, at number one the seventh year running – so they must be doing something right.
Australia, too, must be on to something. While in so many ways different from Scandinavia – we are one of the most multicultural nations in the world, while Finland and Denmark have largely homogeneous populations – we nonetheless come in at 10th place in the report, suggesting some key similarities.
“Coming in 10th is closer to first or second than most other countries on this list,” points out happiness expert Dr Tim Sharp. “That being said, the Nordic countries have typically done well because they have strong social support systems, good health and education, a smaller gap between rich and poor, and are peaceful democracies.”
Really, there is not a whole lot of difference between Finland, Denmark and Australia, “except that it could be argued these Scandinavian countries do the above better,” Dr Sharp adds.
As to how we could climb the ladder, he says: “Australia could increase taxes. When taxation is applied effectively, only a small number of people at ‘the top’ end up worse off, while the majority of the population benefit via better and more affordable health care, education, public transport and other infrastructure.”
Having spent nearly four months in Denmark, I can see Dr Sharp’s point. The work-life balance is better, everyone seems to have a hobby, there are fewer homeless people and the general pace of life is slower and gentler. But would I move here permanently? No.
Australia may not be the “happiest” country in the world, but it is irreplaceable for me.
