When Lyubomirsky arrived at graduate school for social psychology at Stanford in 1989, academic research on happiness was only beginning to gain legitimacy. Ed Diener, a psychologist at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign who would eventually be known for his work in the field, waited until he was granted tenure before tackling the subject, despite harboring a longstanding interest in it. Lyubomirsky, too, was wary of choosing happiness as a specialty — she was a woman in science eager to be taken seriously, and anything in the realm of “emotions” was considered somewhat soft. Nonetheless, on her first day of graduate school at Stanford, in 1989, following an energizing conversation with her adviser, she resolved to make happiness her focus.
Lyubomirsky began with the basic question of why some people are happier than others. A few years earlier, Diener published a survey of the existing research, which touched on the kinds of behaviors that happy people seemed inclined to engage in — religious observance, for example, or socializing and exercising. But the studies, which sometimes had conflicting findings, yielded no clear consensus. Lyubomirsky’s own research, over many years, pointed toward the importance of a person’s mind-set: Happy people tended to refrain from comparing themselves with others, had more positive perceptions of others, found ways to be satisfied with a range of choices and did not dwell on the negative.
But Lyubomirsky knew she couldn’t separate cause and effect: Did being happy encourage a healthy mind-set, or did adopting that mind-set make people happier? Were people like her mother doomed to live with whatever their natural level of happiness was — or could they take control of their mood, if they only knew how? Even if you could change your mind-set, that process seemed to take a long time — people spend years in therapy trying (and often failing) to do it — and Lyubomirsky wondered whether there were simpler, easier behaviors they could adopt that would quickly enhance their sense of well-being. She decided to put it to the test.
Lyubomirsky started by studying some of the habits and practices that were commonly believed to be mood boosters: random acts of kindness and expressions of gratitude. Each week for six weeks, she had students perform five acts of kindness — donating blood, for example, or helping another student with a paper — and found that they were happier by the end of that period than the students in her control group. She asked a separate group of students to contemplate, once a week, the things they were grateful for, like “my mom” or “AOL Instant Messenger.” They, too, were happier after doing so than a control group. The changes in well-being weren’t particularly large in either study, but Lyubomirsky found it remarkable that so small and low-cost an intervention could improve the quality of students’ lives. In 2005, she published a paper based on those studies arguing that people did have considerable control over how happy they were.
Lyubomirsky’s research came out just as the field of psychology was reconsidering its objectives and even its purpose. When Martin Seligman, a psychologist at the University of Pennsylvania, took the helm of the American Psychological Association in 1998, he expressed a concern that he and his colleagues had spent too much time focusing on dysfunction and not enough devoted to fostering life satisfaction; he encouraged his peers to pursue “the understanding and building of the most positive qualities of an individual: optimism, courage, work ethic, future‑mindedness, interpersonal skill, the capacity for pleasure and insight and social responsibility.” He called for a return of the field to its origins, “which were to make the lives of all people more fulfilling and productive.”
