Staff Writer- William Tran
I sat on the familiar bus leaving the city, heading back to my hometown to celebrate the New Year with my family. I had taken this route for years, yet somehow every trip felt different. As the bus rolled away from high-rise buildings, slipping past the lights and the traffic, I watched society shift in layers—from the city to the town and finally to the quiet countryside. And along that journey, a larger question surfaced: what should a nation prioritize—wealth or happiness?
For decades, the world has treated economic growth as a kind of guiding star. China is perhaps the clearest example of a GDP-first approach: rapid, relentless development since the economic reforms of the late 1970s. Special Economic Zones like Shenzhen rose from fishing villages into megacities within a few decades, becoming symbols of extraordinary growth. Hundreds of millions escaped poverty, and infrastructure expanded at a pace few nations could match.
Yet behind that rise lie costs not easily seen on an economic chart. Rapid development brought severe air pollution, the “996” work culture pushed workers to exhaustion, and the younger generation responded with the “lying-flat” movement to escape overwhelming pressures. At the other extreme is the United States—despite being the world’s largest economy, it faces its own paradox: GDP continues to rise, but lack of universal healthcare, expensive education, and widening inequality have made stress, loneliness, and depression national concerns. In cities glowing with wealth, many still struggle to find time to actually live.
In contrast, Bhutan chose a completely different path. The country places Gross National Happiness (GNH) at the heart of every policy decision. And GNH is not just a slogan: every proposed law must pass the GNH Screening Tool—an evaluation of more than thirty criteria covering environment, culture, mental health, and sustainability. Costa Rica made an equally bold decision in 1949 when it abolished its military to redirect funding toward education and healthcare. As a result, despite its modest GDP, it enjoys European-level life expectancy and some of the highest life satisfaction scores in Latin America.
Meanwhile, New Zealand has adopted a more contemporary approach through its Wellbeing Budget, introduced in 2019. Instead of chasing growth figures, the nation prioritizes mental health, child welfare, and support for vulnerable communities. The government invested heavily in public mental health services, making therapy widely accessible at low cost or free for low-income residents. This is one of the rare examples where well-being becomes the core of a national budget rather than a symbolic aspiration.
Yet perhaps the most balanced model belongs to the Nordic countries—places where GDP and happiness not only coexist but strengthen each other. Finland maintains free education through university to reduce inequality from the ground up. Denmark uses its “flexicurity” model to provide both flexible labor markets and strong worker protection. Norway channels its sovereign oil fund into long-term welfare programs to secure future generations. These nations show that when a country invests in fairness, human development, and social trust, economic growth and happiness can emerge naturally together.
As I reflected on this, I realized these national models resembled the scenes passing by my bus window. In the countryside, people have little but seem light-hearted; in the town, people chase hope while balancing their worries; in the city, people have much yet are always in a rush. These three spaces mirror three paths a nation might choose: live slowly to be happy, live fast to be rich, or find a balance between the two. None is perfect, but each answers a question we cannot avoid: what are we building our country for—speed or quality of life?
A nation cannot be defined by economic indicators alone. A country may grow steadily yet leave its people exhausted. Another may prioritize happiness but lack the economic tools to ensure long-term stability. The real question is not choosing between GDP and happiness, but finding a way to develop without losing the very purpose of development: allowing people to live better lives.
When the bus finally stopped in my village, I saw my mother waiting at the gate, surrounded by neighbors preparing their homes for the New Year. Children ran under the late-afternoon sun, their laughter echoing through the small alleyways. And in that moment, all thoughts about GDP, policies, and development models felt suddenly simple: what is the point of progress if it does not make moments like this last longer, reach farther, and belong to more people?
Wealth may take us far, but happiness is what gives us a reason to keep going. Perhaps the ultimate goal of a nation is not choosing between growth and happiness, but building a place where people can live a life worth living.