Have We Forgotten How to Be Happy?
A photo. Faded colors, people stretching to the horizon. Love Parade, 1998. The world visiting Berlin. Summer, sun, boundless ecstasy. No overthinking, no hesitation—just being. A single, shimmering moment of happiness.
I recently saw this photo and asked myself: Where did it go? That happiness. Back then, it was so simple. A beat rolling through the streets, arms in the air, bodies in motion—a collective sense of freedom that no one questioned. You were just there, in the middle of it all, swept up in a current of music and people who left everything else behind for a day. And today? Today, everything must have a purpose, everything must be balanced, reflected upon, and responsible. You shouldn’t rejoice too much, laugh too loudly, be too carefree. Happiness has become political—and with that, a matter of debate, of calculation, of control.
Maybe that’s exactly what’s missing: the unselfconsciousness. Happiness was once a feeling you simply had, without needing to justify it. Today, it’s dissected, debated, regulated. If you’re too happy, you become suspicious. Euphoria is seen as indecent. It’s as if we’ve placed happiness in a glass case—a museum piece from a past era that we are no longer allowed to experience.
Of course, the world has become more complicated. You can’t just dive blindly into the night anymore. Who knows what could happen? You can’t enjoy things carelessly without being aware that happiness is unevenly distributed. But does that mean we have to forgo it entirely? Does everything always need meaning, does every laugh need justification? Why have we become so uncomfortable with just being?
A new kind of German Biedermeier is emerging. Biedermeier reloaded. Everything must be regulated, examined, reflected upon, made palatable for all. It feels safe in this carefully calibrated world, where every emotion has an appropriate dose. But as we steer everything into measured paths, we lose the intoxication. That sudden moment of exhilaration when you step outside of yourself and dissolve into something greater.
Intoxication? Too dangerous. Lightheartedness? Too naive. The collective experience? Too uncontrollable. So, we keep our distance, observe each other, weigh everything, maintain the balance between duty and self-care. Happiness today is a private matter, something to be optimized. There are apps to help us feel happier. Guides to teach us how to do it correctly. Happiness must be measurable, predictable, individualized—but never too excessive, never too loud, never in a way that might disturb others.
And so, many have come to terms with the ongoing absence of happiness. Or have even declared it improper, problematic, suspicious. Those who let go make themselves vulnerable. Those who stop overthinking for even a moment are accused of not thinking enough. But happiness was never a matter of reason. It lives in excess, in the irrational, in the moment that doesn’t need to be counted, weighed, or documented.
But what if we take it back? Not the private, curated happiness recommended in mindfulness books. But the shared happiness. The happiness that arises between people, in a space, in a moment, when everyone forgets—just for a brief instant—who they are supposed to be, and simply is.
Maybe we’ve forgotten how to do that. Maybe we need to learn again. To stop questioning whether what we feel is right, and just feel it. Maybe we need music that is so loud it drowns out doubt. Streets full of dancing people who, for one day, forget everything else. A feeling that cannot be optimized.
Happiness—without an agenda, without justification, without footnotes.
Maybe it’s time we remember.