A Modern Guide to Wellbeing Research 1789900158, 9781789900156

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© Beverley A. Searle, Jessica Pykett and Maria Jesus Alfaro-Simmonds 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. Published by Edward Elgar Publishing Limited The Lypiatts 15 Lansdown Road Cheltenham Glos GL50 2JA UK Edward Elgar Publishing, Inc. William Pratt House 9 Dewey Court Northampton Massachusetts 01060 USA A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Control Number: 2021935910 This book is available electronically in the Geography, Planning and Tourism subject collection http://dx.doi.org/10.4337/9781789900163

ISBN 978 1 78990 015 6 (cased) ISBN 978 1 78990 016 3 (eBook)

Contents List of figuresvii List of tablesviii List of contributorsix Forewordxiv Katherine Trebeck, Wellbeing Economy Alliance 1

Introduction to wellbeing research 1 Beverley A. Searle, Jessica Pykett and Maria Jesus Alfaro-Simmonds

PART I

APPROACHING WELLBEING

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Commentary to Part I: reanimating the radical possibilities of wellbeing Sarah Atkinson

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Towards a queer epistemological framework for wellbeing research29 Julia Zielke

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A Marxian approach to wellbeing: human nature and use value David Watson

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Developing qualitative, biographical research into happiness and wellbeing: a sociological perspective Mark Cieslik

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Practicing wellbeing through community economies: an action research approach Thomas SJ Smith and Kelly Dombroski

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PART II 7

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PRACTICING WELLBEING

Commentary to Part II: a wellbeing lens in practice Neil Thin

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A modern guide to wellbeing research

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Prisoners’ rehabilitation and wellbeing: a psychosocial perspective110 Fabio Tartarini

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Gender and wellbeing in post-war Sri Lanka Fazeeha Azmi

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Wellbeing and inclusion: a place for religion Laura Kapinga and Bettina Bock

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Children experiencing happiness in the city Maria Jesus Alfaro-Simmonds

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Housing inequalities and wellbeing: a critical analysis of narratives from stakeholders in Luxembourg Magdalena Górczyńska-Angiulli and Elise Machline

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Woodlands and wellbeing: evaluating the ‘Actif Woods Wales’ programme Heli Gittins, Sophie Wynne-Jones and Val Morrison

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PART III WHERE NEXT FOR WELLBEING? 14

Commentary to Part III: wellbeing: a means for informed policy-making229 Susan J Elliott

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Who benefits and who suffers from international migration? Global evidence from the science of happiness Martijn Hendriks

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Human wellbeing in environmental management Kelly Biedenweg and David J Trimbach

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Budgeting for wellbeing Arthur Grimes

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Subjective wellbeing and transformation Beverley A. Searle

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Index301

Figures 6.1

Diverse economies iceberg

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6.2

Tools for thinking about wellbeing

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11.1 How often do you play/meet with friends in outdoor spaces?

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11.2 How much time do you spend with your friends in outdoor spaces?172 11.3 Parks as places for experiencing happiness

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11.4 Streets as places for experiencing happiness

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11.5 Availability of urban spaces as a variable mediating urban happiness175 11.6 Environmental quality as a variable mediating urban happiness

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16.1 Vital signs wheel for monitoring biophysical and human wellbeing goals in Puget Sound restoration

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16.2 Social ecological conceptual model of Puget Sound restoration257

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Tables 1.1

Dimensions of wellbeing as situated and socially differentiated practices

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12.1 An overview of research on housing-related determinants of residential and life satisfaction

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12.2 The views of housing-related stakeholders on importance of residential attributes in affordable housing

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16.1 Table summarizing case studies in this chapter

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16.2 Table summarizing conservation efforts that reflect human interactions or wellbeing

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Contributors Maria Jesus Alfaro-Simmonds is an architect and researcher on urban childhoods and urban happiness. PhD in Human Geography with a focus on children’s geographies from the University of Birmingham. Her research explores young people’s everyday experiences, needs and use of urban spaces, through the lens of happiness and wellbeing. Her interest is on contrasting models of urban wellbeing, human flourishing and resilience between Western and Latin American Societies. She leads ‘Urban Wellbeing’, an urban social research initiative exploring ways to fuel urban happiness providing a holistic view upon the city. Sarah Atkinson is Professor of Geography and Medical Humanities at Durham University, UK. She has published several papers advocating greater engagement with social and relational understandings of wellbeing as a critique of mainstream individualist approaches and practices. She contributed to the What Works Wellbeing Evidence Programme on community wellbeing and to the WHO European Region Expert Advisory Group on Cultural Contexts of Health and Wellbeing. She is lead editor on a collection of essays published by Springer, 2019, ‘GeoHumanities and Health’. Fazeeha Azmi is a Senior Lecturer at the Department of Geography, Faculty of Arts University of Peradeniya, Sri Lanka. Her research interests include post war youth, poverty and livelihood changes, women and migration, internal displacement, fishing communities, post war development and tourism in Sri Lanka. She has published journal articles and book chapters on gender, migration, youth and forced displacement and tourism in Sri Lanka. Kelly Biedenweg is an Assistant Professor of Human Dimensions at Oregon State University’s Fisheries and Wildlife Department. She studies human wellbeing associated with the natural environment and natural resource management in Latin America and the Pacific Northwest. She received an EPA Early Career Award for her research on Integrating Human Wellbeing and Ecosystem Services. She has a PhD in the human dimensions of natural resource management, with a concentration in Tropical Conservation and Development. Bettina Bock is Professor for Population Decline and Quality of Life at ix

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Groningen University and Professor for Inclusive Rural Development at Wageningen University. Her areas of research include inclusive rural development and social innovation, migration and spatial justice, governance and rural gender relations. She was the editor in chief of Sociologia Ruralis and board member of the European Society for Rural Sociology until 2019 and is still on the board of the International Rural Sociology Association. Mark Cieslik is a sociologist at Northumbria University, Newcastle Upon Tyne, UK. Since the 1990s he has conducted research into various aspects of learning across the life course that have been widely published. In 2009 he established the British Sociological Association Happiness Study Group, undertaking a number of studies into happiness/wellbeing, details of which have been published in journals, edited collections and monographs. Kelly Dombroski is a community economies scholar researching in the areas of feminist geography, post-development and urban change. She is a Senior Lecturer in Geography at Te Kura Aronukurangi School of Earth and Environment, University of Canterbury, Aotearoa New Zealand. Susan J Elliott is a medical geographer at the University of Waterloo, with a focus on global environment and public health research. Previous roles include Director, Institute of Environment and Health (McMaster); Senior Research Fellow, United Nations University Institute for Water, Environment and Health; Dean, Social Sciences (McMaster); Dean, Health Sciences (Waterloo). She has published widely on wellbeing, is PI for GLOWING (development of a Global Index of Wellbeing), and is Editor in Chief of the new Elsevier journal, Wellbeing Space & Society. Heli Gittins is a Teaching Associate at the School of Natural Sciences, Bangor University where she lectures on environmental and conservation modules. Her research focuses on how nature can impact wellbeing. Her cross-disciplinary PhD research was between the School of Natural Sciences and the School of Psychology at Bangor University, funded by the KESS programme in partnership with The Woodland Trust and Actif Woods Wales. It examined how a nature-based intervention could impact sustainable personal wellbeing and independent woodland use. Magdalena Górczyńska-Angiulli, PhD in geography (from Polish Academy of Sciences and University of Paris 1, Panthéon-Sorbonne, 2012), is a researcher at LISER since 2016. Her areas of expertise are: housing policy, affordable housing, gentrification, social mix and inequalities. She has authored articles in leading scientific journals (Urban Studies, Environment and Planning A, Housing Studies), and was a Principal Investigator or collaborator in research

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projects funded by the Luxembourg National Research Fund, the National Research Centre in Poland, and ESPON. Arthur Grimes is Professor of Wellbeing and Public Policy at Victoria University of Wellington’s School of Government and Senior Fellow at Motu Economic and Public Policy Research. He is a former Chairman and Chief Economist of the Reserve Bank of New Zealand. His current research focuses on the economics of wellbeing, and on urban economics. Martijn Hendriks is an Assistant Professor at the Department of Applied Economics and the Erasmus Happiness Economics Research Organisation (EHERO) of the Erasmus University Rotterdam. He serves as an associate editor for the Journal of Happiness Studies and on the boards of the International Society for Quality-of-Life Studies (ISQOLS) and the Happiness Research Organisation (HRO). His specialism is the subjective wellbeing of migrants. Laura Kapinga is a PhD candidate at the Department of Cultural Geography, Faculty of Spatial Sciences, University of Groningen, the Netherlands. Her research interests revolve around the geographies of religion and spatial dimensions of diversity, inclusion, and wellbeing. In her research project, she zooms in on the postsecular urban context and focuses on the following themes: everyday lives of young people, lived religion, and transitions from youth to adulthood. Elise Machline, PhD in geography, is a researcher at the Luxembourg Institute of Socio-Economic Research (LISER), Urban Development and Mobility Department. She received her PhD from Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne in cooperation with Ben Gurion University of the Negev (2018), on the socio-economic impacts of ‘green’ buildings. Her research interests lie in sustainable urban planning, affordable housing policies, eco-neighbourhood sustainability assessment, socio-economic impacts of ‘green’ buildings, international comparisons, and eco-gentrification. Val Morrison is Professor of Health Psychology, studying the cognitive, emotional, social and contextual factors influencing responses to stress, illness, or caregiving in order to inform psychosocial intervention. Examples include interventions to increase social and leisure activities post-stroke, and to improve recovery following hip replacement. With international colleagues, Professor Morrison has received a €4.1m Marie Cure Slodowska International Training Network award to lead 15 projects addressing caregiving motivations and outcomes. She collaborates with Actif Woods Wales/Woodland Trust to study woodland activity and wellbeing. Jessica Pykett is a social and political geographer at the University of

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Birmingham, with research interests on governance, citizenship and knowledge practices. These are explored in the fields of behavioural public policy; urban wellbeing, welfare inequalities, mental health, emotion science, and digital futures. Publications include Brain Culture (Policy Press, 2015), and Neuroliberalism (Routledge, 2017). Her current research examines the science and ethics of wellbeing promotion in public policy, histories of emotion sensing technologies and the role of happiness economics in shaping urban futures. Beverley A. Searle is a Senior Lecturer in Human Geography at the University of Dundee. She received her PhD in Social Policy from the University of York in 2005. She is co-founder of the Pollinating Wellbeing network established in 2017. Her interest is in transdisciplinary understandings of subjective wellbeing and welfare. This is applied to aspects of social inequalities and intergenerational justice. More recently her work explores how subjective wellbeing impacts attitudes towards environmental change. Thomas SJ Smith is a human geographer interested in community economies and postcapitalist economic spaces. He received his PhD at the University of St Andrews and is currently Assistant Professor at the Department of Environmental Studies at Masaryk University, Czech Republic. Fabio Tartarini is a PhD candidate at the University of Cambridge and a Chartered Psychologist in Italy. He has lectured in Psychology and Criminology, including for the MSc Leadership and Custodial Environments (in collaboration with Unlocked Graduates). He has provided training courses for the Continuing Professional Development division of the British Psychological Society and worked for the Criminal Justice System, both within a private prison and Restorative Solutions CIC. Research interests include: positive psychology, critical social psychology, and community psychology. Neil Thin is a Senior Lecturer in Social and Political Science at the University of Edinburgh. He researches and lectures on happiness, social quality, sustainable development, and appreciative and aspirational social planning. He has authored four books and several institutional policy guides on these themes. He has worked in over 30 countries on wellbeing and social planning, collaborating with NGOs, trade unions, bilateral aid agencies, and the governments of Bhutan, Rwanda, India, and Indonesia, and for the United Nations and World Bank. David J Trimbach is a Postdoctoral Research Associate in the Department of Fisheries and Wildlife at Oregon State University. He is an interdisciplinary social scientist with a PhD in Human Geography. His research primarily focuses on understanding the complex relationships between people and place.

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His research interests include: sense of place, human–environment interactions, and human dimensions of natural resource management. David Watson is Lecturer in Organizational behaviour at Norwich Business School and an interdisciplinary researcher interested in the concept of wellbeing and its relationship with work. Research interests include, but are not limited to the theorisation of wellbeing, in particular its relation to Marx’s concept of alienation and his early writings; the capabilities approach; the role of wellbeing in organisations, including ‘alternative’ forms of organisation. He has authored and contributed to a range of journal articles, book chapters and public reports. Sophie Wynne-Jones is a Lecturer in Human Geography at the School of Natural Sciences, Bangor University. Her work focuses on human–nature relations and environmental governance. She has undertaken research funded by UK research councils, DEFRA and Welsh Government, exploring processes of environmental change and stakeholder interactions. This includes recent work on novel governance approaches, evaluating the socio-cultural dynamics and epistemic controversies arising. A critical component of this research is understanding how nature impacts and is valued in relation to human wellbeing. Julia Zielke is a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Bielefeld School of Public Health where she researches gender dimension in health care provision, funded by the German Ministry of Health. Previously she lectured in sociology at a Berlin-based start-up university and earned her PhD on community wellbeing from the University of Liverpool Management School. Julia’s broader research is qualitative and theory-driven and covers multi-scalar epistemologies of health and wellbeing, feminism, housing inequalities and participatory methods.

Foreword Katherine Trebeck, Wellbeing Economy Alliance The title A Modern Guide to Wellbeing Research of this collection firmly – proudly – situates it as a useful practical aide for charting the challenges facing us today. This intent is more than timely. Wellbeing is as diverse a concept as it is ubiquitous. Perhaps unsurprisingly for such a multifaceted concept, as civil society and academics have advocated for an embrace of wellbeing as an explicit goal, different emphases in the meaning of wellbeing have come to the fore. The suite of different understandings and emphasis is also mirrored in a range of measures that each purport to improve a particular aspect of wellbeing. This is where this book steps up to the plate. The various chapters in the book also ask the ‘so what?’ question and with a range of perspectives each dive into various understandings of wellbeing and, crucially, unpick the implications. In many countries, efforts to enhance wellbeing is no longer a question of data – the statistics are largely available (if not yet perfect). It is thus now up to policy entrepreneurs to help apply them to the levers of policy and the ledgers of government budgets. In those efforts, if political decision makers, businesses, civil society groups, city leaders and others are to have a chance of taking the plethora of changes, shifts, alterations, transformations and redesigns that are necessary to truly embrace a wellbeing agenda, they are going to need all the clarity they can get. The authors of respective chapters don’t shy away from probing where the onus of change lies in order to improve wellbeing. This is a question which is too-often dodged, yet differences between respective conceptualisations of wellbeing tend to lie in where to situate political responsibility and policy focus. For example, often the call from advocates of focusing on subjective self-reported wellbeing measures is for immediate support for individuals suffering stress and anxiety – often in the form of investment in mental health support to help people survive and cope with current circumstances. In contrast, advocates for the ‘system change’ conceptions of wellbeing, while strongly supporting the vital importance of helping people survive and cope with current circumstances, would point to the need to also pay attention to xiv

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those circumstances themselves, that is the drivers of stress and anxiety, rather than merely treatment for those who experience them. The beauty of the book is that the chapters don’t get stuck on a false binary. In exploring what sort of measures are most useful, the implicit recognition is that it depends on the purpose. Change doesn’t happen through parsimony – it happens through finding the most relevant tools for each purpose. So a headline measure might be most useful for communications purposes (for example, I have long been suggesting governments pay more attention to the number of girls who ride their bikes to school than they do to GDP). And a multifaceted dashboard of measures might be more useful to cover the richness of domains that matter to multidimensional wellbeing and the suite of policy changes needed to get there. But before getting too complex, a message often coming from government advisors is a warning that too many indicators will increase the cognitive load on ministers and in turn lead to more of the status quo, rather than the bold, silo-busting policies that will attend to the upstream causes of wellbeing inequalities. The chapters in the following pages will be invaluable for policy entrepreneurs, in and outside government, in their efforts to distil the most poignant measures. The authors thus do not cover concepts in lead: they position wellbeing as an evolving idea in service of the people, communities and societies it speaks about and describes. In that way it enables diversity and local relevance, but also brings to the fore that which makes us innately human. The title Modern guide is thus more appropriate than perhaps originally envisaged: while many of the debates and discussions about wellbeing are as old as the hills (stretching back to Aristotle), it is now time to deploy them in the service of humanity.

1. Introduction to wellbeing research Beverley A. Searle, Jessica Pykett and Maria Jesus Alfaro-Simmonds We are producing this volume at a productive and pivotal time for wellbeing researchers and practitioners. There has been burgeoning interest in wellbeing measurement and analysis, and decades of investment in wellbeing research promises to provide policy makers with data, evidence and blueprints needed to secure more sustainable futures, placing the ‘happiness’ of people and planet at centre stage. As a focus on personal, national and global wellbeing becomes central to policy and industry alike, wellbeing research plays an ever more important role. Knowledge, understanding and evidence of the necessary conditions for supporting wellbeing, shaping our collective goals and prioritising action are needed. At the same time, our experiences of global catastrophes; the threat of global terror, the global financial crisis of 2008, increase awareness of the gravity and urgency of the climate crisis, the rise of mental ill-health, and the Covid-19 pandemic of 2020 reinforce the scale and accumulation of challenges we collectively face. These crises are of course experienced differently across the globe. For many, crisis and insecurity has long been a fact of life. But for others, they bring into sharp relief the fragile nature of our everyday security and our economic systems. They open up a new lens on the adequacy of public health and welfare infrastructures, the resilience of communities, and the ways in which we relate to the environment. Governments worldwide have struggled to cope, to organise, to collaborate and to lead. It is in this context that in 2018 at the World Government Summit in Dubai, UEA that the Global Happiness Council launched the first Global Happiness Policy Report, asserting that for governments to pursue happiness ‘is the world’s best and perhaps only hope to avoid global catastrophe’ (Sachs, 2018, 4). Moments of crisis can also act as a reminder that the way in which we have often come to subordinate social relationships to economic ones is problematic. The Covid-19 pandemic in particular brought public debate on welfare, anxiety, social isolation, need and inequalities, and on kindness and actions of care to the fore. These debates have long histories which remain far from resolved.

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In this introductory chapter, we explore what is meant by happiness and wellbeing across a range of research disciplines which have been instrumental in shaping global debates about wellbeing policy. We set out what kinds of definitions, measurements and evidence of wellbeing are proposed, and think about what their ‘inward’ or ‘outward’ looking approaches say about what aspects of personal, social and planetary life should be valued. Wellbeing is often seen as a goal to be pursued, in which case research is focused on the factors which drive wellbeing and the mechanisms for improving it. Yet wellbeing is also a driver of activity, policy, personal behaviour and social action. As a result, wellbeing can be seen by some as a guiding principle for setting research agendas, whereas for others it can be seen as a distraction from matters of ‘deeper’ concern, or worse still, as a suspect means of psychological governance (Greco and Stenner, 2013), obscuring the destructive effects of the hyper-individualist account offered in much contemporary wellbeing research (Atkinson, 2020). By navigating through these differences and tensions, we set out our own framing of an inclusive wellbeing which offers a focus on the situated and socially differentiated practices of wellbeing. Such a focus is necessary because a global wellbeing agenda and calls for post-crisis forms of governance are increasingly challenging established approaches to societal and economic organisation (Joseph and McGregor, 2020). This has involved rethinking the purpose of government and over-reliance on simplistic economic metrics such as GDP. The failure of political and economic systems to ensure stability, sustainable growth and social equality has been met with calls for a political focus on shaping the circumstances in which human life can flourish in harmony with the environments in which we and future generations will live (Trebeck and Williams, 2019). We contribute to this call through bringing together contributions from across the social sciences to demonstrate how understanding the ways in which wellbeing is mobilised as a concept in research, practice and policy is central to these endeavours. In this edited collection we highlight practice-based approaches. These provide a contrast to the dominant psychological and economic perspectives on wellbeing. We foreground an inclusive perspective on how people living in diverse circumstances experience wellbeing. We examine where it takes place, and how it is conceptualised, constructed and contested. Our contributors offer plural methodologies and engage to different degrees in a research process based on explaining, understanding and re-thinking wellbeing. They are interested in issues such as political turmoil and crisis, wellbeing metrics, economics and policies, individualised and societal values, diverse knowledge practices and standpoints (for example, feminist, queer, indigenous), the intersections of nature and culture, and a future orientation to action and transformation. They elaborate on how these issues play out on the ground and provide detailed expositions of what a wellbeing policy agenda

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does or would look like in different sectors. Providing a stimulating guide to the current research landscape on wellbeing, the volume also aims to address the provocative questions of what wellbeing is for, and where next for wellbeing research and action. In particular, we are keen to advance interdisciplinary research debate on the connections between wellbeing and welfare, and to elaborate on the practices, routines, institutions, objects, techniques and spaces associated with the contemporary governance of specific emotions.

WELLBEING RESEARCH AND POLICY At a national level wellbeing is being embodied in government policy in a number of ways. In Europe, a framework to guide national policy development in reducing health inequalities and improving governance for health and wellbeing was introduced in 2020 (WHO, 2020). In the same year the Wellbeing For Future Generations Bill was put before the House of Lords in the UK, requiring public bodies to meet wellbeing objectives and consider the impact of policies on future generations. This followed a similar Act in Wales passed in 2015, the Scottish Government’s Performance Framework of 2016 (Wallace, 2019), and the high-profile ‘Wellbeing Budget’ approach launched by the New Zealand Government in 2019. These initiatives are supported by an increased global standardisation of social wellbeing indicators (OECD How’s Life Survey (2011); European Social Survey since 2002 (ESS, 2015)) and life satisfaction measures (World Happiness Reports since 2012 (Helliwell et al., 2012)). Both psychologists and economists have been integral in making the case for wellbeing as a goal of government (Diener et al., 2015; Frijters et al., 2020; Helliwell et al., 2012), and have often found themselves on influential advisory committees and panels for national governments. Happiness economists, Frijters et al. (2020, 126) argue that placing wellbeing as a central goal of government can lead to the ‘gradual optimisation’ of public services, a culture of local experimentation and learning, and international policy transfer. They argue that governments should adopt life satisfaction measures, supported by a set of quantified ‘believed effects’ (that is, agreed in the scientific community). These, they argue are the best currently accepted metrics of wellbeing to guide policy evaluation, judge policy trade-offs and aid strategic government decision making (Frijters et al., 2020). In contrast to this global standardisation and public policy agenda-setting, wellbeing research is troubled by definitional crises, disciplinary divisions and methodological impasses. There are often fundamental disagreements about what wellbeing is, whether it can be quantified, how, and if, it is distinct from happiness, thriving or flourishing (Alexandrova, 2017; Dodge et al., 2012; Dolan et al., 2017). So too, wellbeing is implicated in the increasing

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instrumentalisation of social research towards narrow policy goals as opposed to independent enquiry. As such, critics have highlighted a culture of ‘optimal functioning’ and a potentially crushing drive towards optimism and unattainable life goals (Atkinson, 2020; Davies, 2015; Ehrenreich, 2010). The ideas of workplace wellbeing and human capital, ecosystem services and privatisation of health behaviours are indicative of the strategic placement of wellbeing as an economic goal – in these cases, to prevent burnout and improve productivity, to mobilise the value of natural resources for enhancing human wellbeing, or to align personal and public health in the service of population management and a for-profit wellness industry. Behind these more recent debates and trends, there lies a much longer history of wellbeing research. Wellbeing researchers often search for an enduring and universal account of happiness. They reach for the Ancient Greeks, Asian philosophy or nineteenth-century British Utilitarian thinkers for confirmation that wellbeing, the good life, and happiness are of the highest moral virtue and social value, or central to economic thinking. With any philosophical dispute thereby apparently resolved, researchers are swiftly driven to establish ways to define, measure and compare conditions for wellbeing (Diener, 2009, 12). This has given rise to a wealth of research based on subjective wellbeing, happiness, life satisfaction, and social indicators (Myers and Diener, 2018). With the imperatives towards standardisation, objectivisation and generalisability, the psychological perspective on wellbeing also comes a well-trodden path of methodological individualism which many social researchers find deeply problematic, in the sense that it decouples people from the environments in which they think and feel (Smith and Reid, 2018). That is not to say that such research is not of societal or political relevance. Indeed, wellbeing researchers in the psychological and health disciplines are commonly interested in the social determinants of mental health (for example, Allen et al., 2014; Currie et al., 2012). But psychological research on wellbeing often aims to identify demographic correlations, behavioural characteristics, components and valid measures of wellbeing (for example, Winefield et al., 2012). The focus is less frequently on the systems, social structures and community bonds which support positive wellbeing – and indeed, for psychologists, wellbeing is often equated with health. As scholars in the medical humanities and social psychologists have noted, this unhelpfully shifts attention from systems of welfare to components of individual wellbeing (Atkinson, 2011; Greco and Stenner, 2013). The dominance of psychological and economic approaches to wellbeing research, and their disproportionate influence on the policy debates generates questions about what can be gained from drawing on a wide range of disciplinary perspectives. Economics and psychology have indeed become very closely entwined in driving wellbeing research, through happiness economics

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and behavioural economics. But they have limitations in terms of their tendency to centre on the individual mind, to aggregate levels of life satisfaction, to mistrust human experience, and to examine correlation coefficients as opposed to causes. A review of current literature in this field suggests that the future research agenda should bring in the neuroscientific and biological dimensions of subjective experience. These are valued, we would argue, erroneously, because they are deemed to be more objective: ‘well-being measures here come straight from the horse’s mouth’ (Clark, 2018, 263). Despite the methodological sophistication and advances in evidence, it is perhaps ironic that the field recommends some fairly traditional policy implications: a focus on wellbeing cost-effectiveness, and on self-help, educational and therapeutic interventions to boost pro-social behaviour and emotional ‘skills’. Wider disciplinary perspectives and more pluralistic methodologies are largely absent from these policy debates. In the following sections, we consider why this matters, and outline how this has informed the approach we take in this book.

METHODS, METRICS AND DEFINITIONS USED IN WELLBEING RESEARCH Despite its growing relevance, wellbeing remains ‘a complex multi-faceted construct that has continued to elude researchers’ attempts to define and measure’ (Pollard and Lee, 2003, 60). Yet as wellbeing continues to transcend beyond academic spheres into lay debates, and as wellbeing inequalities persist, it becomes a duty to find an adequate and understandable way to communicate what it is (Dodge et al., 2012). The drive amongst wellbeing researchers, government statisticians, policy makers and government leaders has been somewhat contradictory. On the one hand there has been an emphasis on inward looking psychological definitions, such as identifying four aspects of personal wellbeing (ONS, 2020), or searching for single question measures, for instance of life satisfaction (GHC, 2018). On the other hand, recent decades have seen a more outward looking approach, whereby wellbeing is considered as a multi-dimensional concept (Diener, 2009; Stiglitz et al., 2009). Social indicators research, for instance, has continued to focus primarily on wellbeing as an integrated, umbrella term. In addition, the notion that wellbeing can be universally defined via a narrow range of European and American disciplinary perspectives has been increasingly challenged (e.g. Yen, 2010), and attempts to develop more geographically and culturally situated ways of defining wellbeing are rising to the fore. Psychologists have focused on the subjective dimensions of wellbeing, in particular developing measures of ‘global subjective happiness’, testing and refining scales for consistency, validity and reliability across a range of national contexts (Lyubomirsky and Lepper, 1999). This inward-looking

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emphasis has been intellectually rooted in ancient Greek philosophical debates on distinctions between hedonia and eudaimonia. Hedonia highlights constructs such as positive affect, low negative affect, life satisfaction and happiness (for example, Diener, 1984; Diener et al., 1999). It is concerned with the outcome of pleasurable moments seen as a result of a person’s experiences and actions. Eudaimonia pays attention to a life lived well in which wellbeing is achieved through purposeful actions (Joseph and McGregor, 2020). It highlights human development and behaviour (Ryff, 1989; Waterman, 1993). The ‘science of positive subjective experience’ (Seligman and Csikszentmihalyi, 2000, 5) emanating primarily from American schools of psychology has become a well-established field, based on the potentially contradictory objective measurement of subjective experiences. It may therefore seem surprising that the core method remains ‘simple survey questions that asked people, for example, if they were “very happy, pretty happy, or not too happy”’ (Myers and Diener, 2018, 218). As a counterbalance, these measures are increasingly complemented by more momentary assessments of happiness, such as Ecological Momentary Assessment (EMA) and the Day Reconstruction Method (DRM) (Kahneman et al., 2004; MacKerron and Mourato, 2013; Shiffman et al., 2008), as well as looking for ‘hardwired’ biological answers, through affective neuroscience (Tanzer and Weyandt, 2020) and genetics (Pluess, 2015). Much influential research – informing, for instance, the Global Happiness Policy Report and the Sustainable Development Goals – is based on global surveys of individual subjective wellbeing with relatively small national sample sizes, designed for international comparability rather than detailed understanding of the important pathways of positive mental health. In contrast to this individualistic approach, a more unifying understanding of wellbeing has emerged around human needs and social equality, embracing both individual and collective aspects. Social equality is defined as ‘the extent to which citizens are able to participate in the social and economic life in their communities under conditions which enhance their wellbeing and individual potential’ (Beck et al., 1997, 3). This more social approach to wellbeing research can be traced to European and Germanic concerns for social indicators able to measure the ‘quality of life’ within their societies (Noll, 2011), connecting ‘strongly with the European Union concerns for social inclusion and social cohesion’ (Joseph and McGregor, 2020, 20). Notably this approach has also resonated in East Asia (Lin and Ward, 2009). In this more outward-looking approach, wellbeing is seen to comprise of a large number of factors concerning what is needed for a good life whilst dealing with a wide set of economic and social elements which determine individual experiences of quality of life including health, wealth and freedom domains (Joseph and McGregor, 2020). This creates an expansive set of elements to examine which potentially makes the quest for reaching a universal

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definition even more elusive. The relative merits of both approaches for application in public policy has been the matter of extensive debate (Atkinson, 2013; Maasoumi and Yalonetsky, 2012). Some regard the multi-dimensional components approach as leading to both cherry-picking and oversight on the part of government departments, given the remit to enhance wellbeing (Frijters et al., 2020). Meanwhile others argue that governments should work with dashboards of wellbeing indicators which are more sensitive to the multiple drivers of wellbeing and the effects of current policies on future generations (Durand, 2020). Whilst developed and wealthy western nations have dominated academic and policy research, there is an increasing body of research from different cultural contexts, providing alternative perspectives on what matters in terms of experiences of wellbeing. Bhutan might be one of the most prominent examples in this regard. Embedded within a specific set of religious values and national culture that are usually overlooked, in the 1970s the Bhutanese government developed the concept of ‘Gross National Happiness’ to measure levels of human fulfilment (GNH Centre Bhutan, 2020). This was later to inform the UN resolution on happiness passed in 2011, emphasising the importance of inclusion, equity and balance in economic development. Likewise, in Bolivia and Ecuador, policy makers have been attempting to translate the indigenous notion of ‘buen vivir’ (good living) into government initiatives which place particular emphasis on living well with nature (Joseph and McGregor, 2020). Indigenous knowledge is also influential in consideration of the situated and relational effects through which wellbeing emerges (Spiller et al., 2011). Atkinson (2013) and Gergen (2009) propose a relational framing of wellbeing which encompasses a mosaic of relations between people, and between people and places, where wellbeing is an effect ‘of mutually constitutive interactions amongst the material, organic and emotional dynamics of places’ (Atkinson, 2013, 142). This relational approach, which we explore in more detail below, encourages a wider inclusive social vision (White, 2017) and challenges the binary between ‘individualist’ and ‘collectivist’ societies, celebrating multiplicity. By acknowledging the openness and fluidity of the term wellbeing, in this book we seek to recognise wellbeing as an important rationale for pursuing social research. At the same time, we aim to set out its shortcomings as a concept, show how it has been contested, and contribute to a more situated, inclusive and socially differentiated approach to undertaking social research through a wellbeing lens. This openness is relevant to long-standing debates on the reliance on social surveys in which the inherent biases, emotional states and perceptions of individuals are ignored, and the assumption that the sum of many individuals’ personal wellbeing is equivalent to societal wellbeing (Noll, 2013, 2). To challenge this, wellbeing measures aimed at inclusivity should aim to gather

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what really matters for the population in terms of a good life, whilst considering sources of bias likely to emerge from uncertainty and memory (Allin and Hand, 2017). The so-called global measurements, as well as the more local ones, should aim for an integrative approach combining both objective and subjective measures. They should aim to trace the diversity of interests that constitute what living a good life means, not only within different cultural backgrounds, but also within often overlooked populations; for example, minorities and groups who may lack voice and agency to express themselves through standard wellbeing metrics. Inclusive wellbeing measures would need to adopt a pluralistic approach reflecting both the individual within their social and environmental context as well as the relations that emerge from this. In this volume we demonstrate that a focus on wellbeing has seen developments in measures of human welfare, notably shifting from what has been the dominance of a single measure (GDP), to a dashboard approach using a range of indicators to identify differing aspects of human flourishing and suffering (Grimes, Chapter 17 in this volume). Such wellbeing measures are often linked back to individual circumstances and lifestyles. However, wellbeing is impacted by wider systems and the circumstances in which those individuals live (Alfaro-Simmonds, Azmi, Cieslik, Kapinga and Bock, Tartarini, Zielke, this volume). Indeed, what most measures actually record are the responses or reactions to those broader contextual circumstances – and that individuals are not the cause of their own wellbeing, in spite of interpretations to the contrary. Whilst recognising the value of quantitative wellbeing measures in identifying patterns, relationships and the extent of human suffering or flourishing, the reasons behind why those patterns emerge and what impact they have on societies and the communities and individuals that live within them are best supported by a mix of methods that provide qualitative narratives to explain them. This volume includes the voices of individuals as agents of their own social experiences, reporting on research that has involved groups that are victimised, marginalised in some societies or mainstream research, such as prisoners (Tartarini), war widows (Azmi), Muslims (Kapinga and Bock) and children (Alfaro-Simmonds). Our contributors also recognise the relational aspects, including human–nature interactions (Gittins et al.) and the importance of monitoring environmental as well as human wellbeing (Biedenweg and Trimbach).

WELLBEING AND KNOWLEDGE PRACTICES The predominant psychological and economic modes of understanding wellbeing have been essentially driven by data and evidence. These are used to develop individualised and/or econometric methodologies which can identify the correlations between wellbeing as an outcome, and its driving forces –

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putting the measure before any firm and mutually agreed conceptualisation of wellbeing (Alexandrova, 2017). The explicit aim is to influence government policy informed by expert knowledge to improve wellbeing – the meaning of which is delegated to the unspecified evaluations of people’s individual life-satisfaction scoring. What is often missing from this wellbeing research is a recognition that our own scientific and knowledge practices matter. These knowledge practices are said to be indicative of the imperialist and technocratic appeal to expertise which underpins the modes of knowledge production pursued in happiness economics (Singh and Alexandrova, 2020). In this sense, the scientisation of happiness and subjective wellbeing research has been a notable knowledge practice worth unpicking here. By knowledge practices, we mean the ways in which particular ways of seeing, talking about, measuring and writing the world become codified as scientific truths and are made to appear universal. Recognising the contested nature of definitions of wellbeing, happiness, and life satisfaction, in this book we focus on the situated and socially differentiated practices of wellbeing. This incorporates several inter-related dimensions which are often overlooked in mainstream psychologies and economies of wellbeing (Table 1.1). Table 1.1

Dimensions of wellbeing as situated and socially differentiated practices

Situated subjective

Multiple and sometimes contradictory felt experiences including our sense of

wellbeing

who we are in the world

Social wellbeing

Relationships with others, with prevailing social values and cultural norms in specific places

Relational wellbeing

Emerges from specific environmental and social relationships and practices which collectively shape individual felt experiences, rather than vice versa

Political wellbeing

Contextually grounded in relations of power, recognition and inequalities

This provides an integrated perspective on wellbeing, which intentionally blurs the lines between emotional experiences and material life chances – or between subjective and objective wellbeing. It addresses a gap in mainstream wellbeing research which treats subjective wellbeing as a black-box phenomenon – only knowable to the subjects addressed in self-report surveys. Rather, it defines wellbeing relationally, in terms of the social and environmental contexts within which it emerges. It acknowledges that the definitional, measurement and research challenges of wellbeing are also political challenges. It defines wellbeing as a set of practices, rather than as a goal to be attained, a psychological trait, or a personal evaluation of life. This open definition shapes the organisation of the book, which focuses on approaches, practices and futures for wellbeing research. By bringing these dimensions together we

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hope to be able to address urgent contemporary concerns about inequalities in wellbeing which go beyond the rhetoric of promoting happiness. In compiling this book, we build on previous research which has advanced situated, experiential and practice-based accounts of wellbeing. For example, in Wellbeing and Place (Atkinson et al., 2012), human geographers explore the intersections of identity, discourses of wellbeing, the conflict and tensions between people’s ethical values and the characteristics of modern individualistic culture. They consider the ways in which particular local places and landscapes can become therapeutic, connected to global wellbeing and environmental concerns, and evident in community conflicts over place. Exploring further how subjective wellbeing is situated, anthropologists too have focused on the intersections of culture, place and wellbeing. Ferraro and Sarmiento Barletti (2016) for instance argue that ethnographic methods are essential for understanding the nature, discourses and practices of wellbeing, as opposed to treating it as an outcome of specific measures. They maintain that wellbeing(s) should be researched in terms of a multiplicity of meanings, place-based imaginaries and creative practices. ‘Place’ cannot be reduced to context or country, as is common in wellbeing research (ibid., 2016). One key advancement in recent wellbeing research has been the increased focus on wellbeing as a social phenomenon. That is not simply to say that people’s personal wellbeing is socially determined, but that wellbeing itself is a sociological construct of emotions and relationships. In this vein, Neil Thin (2012, xi) argues that happiness is about ‘love, empathy, engagement in the workplace and in communities, and about collective aspirations for a world that could be even better than it already is’. Thin adopts a ‘meso-scale’ analysis which is neither focused on the individual or on national policies, but on everyday interactions in particular social contexts (families, schools, neighbourhoods, social networks, media and workplaces). This social understanding of happiness informs many of the chapters in this book. It is part of broader developments in which emotions are increasingly viewed as central to the reproduction of social life, the shaping of subjectivity and as essential to reflexive practice in the construction of social worlds (Holmes, 2010). In sociology, geography and development studies, this focus on the intersubjective and on social relationships has commanded more relational definitions of wellbeing and happiness, which maintain that wellbeing emerges from living well together, or the common life (Atkinson et al., 2019; White, 2017). In this sense wellbeing can be defined as ‘an effect of mutually constitutive interactions amongst the material, organic and emotional dynamics of places’ (Atkinson, 2013, 138). This definition addresses the limitations of disambiguating or aggregating ‘components’ of individualised wellbeing as described earlier. It enables cross-sector integration and collaboration in developing effective and long-term policy solutions and change, and enables

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flexibility in practice (Atkinson, 2013). It also captures the sense of wellbeing as an unfinished process or practice, which is open to contestation and subject to change over time. Atkinson (2013) preserves a crucial role for wellbeing researchers to focus on relationality itself rather than relations as a resource for enhancing wellbeing. Such ideas are now informing novel measures of intersubjective or community wellbeing (Choi et al., 2020; Cloutier et al., 2019). These will potentially enable closer attention to be paid to the dynamics of inequality, scale and time in which wellbeing is embedded. They will highlight how the drivers and outcomes of wellbeing are unevenly distributed, how material and non-material legacies and meanings of wellbeing can be transferred through generations, and how multiple scales (e.g. individual, global, national, regional, local) interact to produce ‘community wellbeing’ (Atkinson et al., 2019, 7; Bagnall et al., 2018). This relational approach has been pursued by a number of researchers who want to emphasise the political struggle for wellbeing. To date, however, there has been limited engagement with wellbeing research from the discipline of politics (Bache and Scott, 2018, 3). But political scientists have now begun to investigate how particular values and interests are represented in debates focused on wellbeing for policy – including how wellbeing is framed, how power relations shape wellbeing, legitimacy claims and public deliberation, who gets excluded, and how it is used to shape both policy decisions and political ideologies (Bache and Scott, 2018, 3, 6). Thus, they emphasise wellbeing as a fluid, rather than a fixed concept. Human geographers have also provided critical analysis of the politics of wellbeing, emphasising the primacy of the intersubjective above the individual account of wellbeing, to reveal ‘the embodied sense of self as deeply embedded within wider systems of recognition and misrecognition’ (Atkinson, 2013, 142). Sociologists have set out to demonstrate how this politics of recognition and distribution can be useful in explaining why equality is a more powerful factor than wealth in shaping happiness. Defining happiness as a set of ‘emotions [which] are individually felt but also intersubjectively achieved’, Holmes and McKenzie (2019, 440) open up scrutiny of the impact of political processes of marginalisation, discrimination, disrespect and socio-economic polarisation on socially differentiated experiences of happiness. These considerations have long been the concern of development economists who have adopted a capabilities approach to wellbeing. This is characterised as the potential people have to realise their own goals through the material and symbolic resources available to them (Sen, 1999). For White, this definition remains too individualistic, failing to acknowledge how such goals and values are always already relational, and subject to unequal power relations (White, 2017). One of the key insights here is that the contemporary research and policy interest in wellbeing is produced within a political-economic

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context which has itself prioritised the individual and cumulatively destroyed the value of the relational, social and civil society. Yet it is these very same modern forms of subjectivity which are measured through mainstream wellbeing research, rather than any essential or universal attribute (White, 2017). As Singh and Alexandrova (2020) have recently argued, there is thus a pressing need to decolonise wellbeing research, in particular the happiness economics approach described in the first section. In this way, happiness economists ‘are set on a universal range of factors and on estimating their context-free average coefficient’ (Singh and Alexandrova, 2020, 240; see also Pykett and Cromby, 2017). It is no coincidence that much of the relational account of wellbeing has been forwarded by scholars experienced in social research in non-Western, economically and culturally diverse contexts, where the modern idea of the individual self may not be so domineering. This strand of research has also long criticised the colonising knowledge practices of economics more broadly (McGregor and Pouw, 2017, 1124).

STRUCTURE OF THE BOOK The purpose of this edited collection is to try to include these many different components and narratives of wellbeing in an account of why wellbeing matters in social research. The chapters cover a range of empirical sites, and are organised into three broad themes: Approaching Wellbeing; Practicing Wellbeing; and Where Next for Wellbeing. Each section starts with a commentary from globally leading researchers with expertise on wellbeing, followed by the chapter contributions. Part I on Approaching Wellbeing outlines the state of the art for current wellbeing research, asking what do we know about wellbeing? Sarah Atkinson starts in a provocative style, setting out the disadvantages of wellbeing research, questioning the usefulness of the application of the concept as a means for changing the status quo. She emphasises how the chapters in the first part offer a point of entry for breaking out of engrained ways of thinking about wellbeing and entrenched assumptions about human nature. Julia Zielke offers a feminist and queer epistemological framework to critique the politically charged, persistent and deep-rooted structural injustices that are often ignored in contemporary policy discourse of wellbeing. The key premise being that the master’s tools (the practices of powerful institutions) perpetuate rather than challenge the way resources and power are distributed in society, thus creating the very inequalities that undermine wellbeing. Moving on to Marxist theory, David Watson explores alienation and paradox of capitalism, which violates opportunities to realise a way of life in line with human nature and enables wellbeing, whilst creating new opportunities to expand the economic system out of which the wellbeing crisis has

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emerged. Watson argues for extending a Marxian understanding of species being, to include use value, as the basis for an open-ended approach to human wellbeing. Mark Cieslik considers wellbeing as a cultural practice, shaped by social structures, and embedded in the myriad shifting relationships and roles that constitute people’s lives. This rare longitudinal qualitative study shows us wellbeing is a dynamic process, which reinforces the importance of not just looking at the objective conditions of people’s lives, but understanding the subjectivities of wellbeing as they unfold across life stories. The first part finishes with Thomas Smith and Kelly Dombroski’s postcapitalist call to reclaim wellbeing from a narrow individualistic, psychological understanding, and reframe it as a socio-economic concept. As such the wellbeing emphasis is on care and ‘commoning’, embedded in economic practices of surviving well together. The focus of Part II is Practicing Wellbeing. Here we consider what wellbeing is for and what it means for specific groups or spaces. Building on some of the themes in Part I, the chapters in this section show wellbeing consists of individual material, subjective and relational dimensions, but is also impacted by social structures and systems, compounded by socio-cultural norms and gendered inequalities. Neil Thin starts by reminding us that a wellbeing lens implies positivity, lives which are going well. This, as he points out, clashes with the often negative context of the situated experiences recorded in the chapters in this section. Yet by focusing on suffering and marginalisation, he highlights how the authors give voice to people in diverse places who aspire to live well, moving them beyond being a victim or sufferer. Marginalised groups are the focus of several chapters in this section. Fabio Tartarini considers the wellbeing of prisoners. Whilst being in prison is not expected to be a good experience, neglecting prisoner wellbeing can be severely detrimental to the individual and society. Drawing on prisoners’ experiences Tartarini argues that a focus on protective practices in prisons rather than risk factors could be a more effective strategy in reducing negative behaviours and outcomes, such as reoffending or suicide. Fazeeha Azmi exposes stories of war widows in post-war Sri-Lanka and how they negotiate their wellbeing. The research demonstrates how wellbeing is a dynamic, multi-dimensional concept that is context-specific with intergenerational implications. The agency of widows to manage their and their children’s wellbeing is unevenly distributed between the household level, where they have power and influence, and the community level where they mediate wellbeing in a ‘silent way’. Against a background of increased Islamophobia in Europe, Laura Kapinga and Bettina Bock argue that wellbeing research in the field of urban planning needs to engage with the post-secular nature of society. They explore how being situated in different urban places can engender feelings of being in or out of place among Muslim university students in the Netherlands. They highlight

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the complexity and contradictions of in/materiality, in/visibility and il/legitimacy, arguing for more inclusive religious spaces to enhance wellbeing. Maria Jesus Alfaro-Simmonds’ research explores children’s wellbeing in urban settings in Lima, Peru. She uncovers the complexity behind the way in which children and adolescents experience happiness, as being situated in the nature and quality of public spaces in the city. Issues of perceived social dangers, insecurity as well as economic accessibility differentiate experiences of young children and adolescents. Similar to Kapinga and Bock, Alfaro-Simmonds argues for more inclusive urban design. This needs to go beyond child-specific spaces to consider young people’s engagement with all aspects of their urban settings. Staying with an urban context Magdalena Górczyńska-Angiulli and Elise Machline look at housing policy in Luxembourg, to explore inequalities in access to affordable housing and the consequences for wellbeing. The research shows how policy goals to link quality housing and wellbeing are artificial. A paradox exists in that rents for affordable homes are beyond the means of eligible populations, and lets are based on meeting income thresholds, rather than priority needs. A way forward is suggested by empowering tenants through tenant-led housing projects (similar to other nations) as a means of meeting housing needs and enhancing wellbeing. To complete this Part, we move from the built to the natural environment. Heli Gittins, Sophie Wynne-Jones and Val Morrison look to Nature Based Interventions as a means of harnessing local environmental resources for wellbeing benefits of marginalised social groups in Wales. Their research shows that participation in an active woodland initiative was not only beneficial for mental wellbeing, but also provided the catalyst for positive changes in habits and behaviours of participants beyond the programme. The third Part of the book looks towards future directions asking Where Next For Wellbeing Research? To what extent can wellbeing guide the future of people and planet? For Susan J Elliott the concept of wellbeing is quite simple, occupying the space between expectation and reality. What is more complex, and reflecting the discussions throughout this volume, is how this concept is theorised, conceptualised and operationalised. This is not only relative to human–human relationships but also relative to place and the context within which wellbeing happens. Wellbeing offers the means, rather than the ends, by which we can move to a new future. The first step, however, is defining the future to which we aspire. Martijn Hendriks considers the global wellbeing potential of migration. Whilst the impact, as demonstrated in chapters throughout this volume, is individual and context-specific, overall it seems that international migration does contribute to human happiness across the globe. Whilst opening international borders could facilitate global happiness, it needs to be supported by better

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integration policies and improved communication about immigrant life in host countries. Kelly Biedenweg and David J Trimbach suggest integrating wellbeing with natural resource management to provide a progressive worldview that recognises how social systems are inextricably a part of natural ecosystems. They argue for a focus on capabilities and a more human wellbeing centred understanding of international conservation and development. In particular the chapter presents a case for ‘buen vivir’ (good living) as a post-growth development alternative. Turning to another set of international developments, Arthur Grimes, the former Chairman and Chief Economist of the Reserve Bank of New Zealand, also considers the capabilities approach. He contrasts this with utilitarian approaches and the incorporation of wellbeing into public policy and budgetary decision making across six nations. The country examples suggest that overarching wellbeing frameworks, whilst expanding the field of economics, have not (yet) been successful in modifying policy-making towards a greater focus on residents’ wellbeing; instead, micro-oriented approaches appear to offer a more coherent way forward. Beverley A Searle finishes the collection with a consideration of the potential for wellbeing to be part of the process for achieving a different kind of future. Despite 30 years of sustainability policy agendas, addressing global inequalities and injustices remains an urgent challenge. What is needed is a fundamental change, or transformation, across many systems of processes, practices, beliefs and behaviours. The chapter builds a framework to show how changes in systems of subjective wellbeing are an important co-evolving part of the process contributing to the whole systems transformational change that is needed.

CONCLUSION As is by now clear, wellbeing research is diverse in its approaches and extensive in the ranges of sites, practices and phenomena studied, highlighting its complexity. One can no longer, if it were ever possible, hope to provide a comprehensive review of the now immense volume of contemporary research on wellbeing. Instead we offer some thematic and practical pathways through which to adopt a wellbeing lens on social research more broadly. The central claim is that the way we think and talk about wellbeing matters. It matters to the kinds of research questions we ask, the scope, scale and remit of research enquiry, the cases we select and the methodological approaches we pursue. How we think about wellbeing shapes the impacts, policies and actions which follow on from, or indeed co-constitute wellbeing research. As we have alluded, a key part of this debate is whether wellbeing is seen as an outcome or process. This raises further questions of whether wellbeing should be the goal of policy or the means of challenging existing systems and overturning

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the status quo. Our aim is therefore to explore the links between wellbeing research and transformational change, noting that good wellbeing supports transformation and transformation supports good wellbeing (Searle, Chapter 18 this volume). Through this volume we call for different ways of knowing. A process-based account of wellbeing generates a focus on value, empathy, sharing, and caring for the common good. The dynamic and social nature of wellbeing demonstrates that declines in empirically measurable wellbeing need not be debilitating but can provide the catalyst for positive political change. Importantly, these perspectives demonstrate that wellbeing is not only something out there to be discovered, measured and assessed, but is embedded in cultural practices and structures. Collectively, we demonstrate that the situated physical environment of particular wide-ranging empirical sites (prisons, forests, housing, urban design) is important. But also that there are key social and political dynamics to attend to, such as the social construction of those places, how we are treated or perceived by others, the right to have one’s claims for living well heard and acted upon. Engaging in research based on this situated and socially differentiated sense of wellbeing is not about an unrealistic ideal of promoting perpetual happiness, but a realistic understanding of life experiences and challenges. Adopting an inclusive wellbeing approach, the focus shifts to understanding how particular dimensions of life come to matter, to be valued, to particular groups of people in specific situations. In this sense, researching wellbeing as a process is about gaining a sense of how particular beliefs, motivation and capability are put to work to shape outcomes. Furthermore, applying relational wellbeing ensures we recognise wellbeing is simultaneously an individual and shared experience – of our relationships with each other as well as with the physical and natural environment. Relational wellbeing requires the consideration of multiple knowledges and a sense of how they are ascribed value. Many chapters in this volume highlight the detrimental effect to wellbeing of existing systems and power structures, conflict, and cultural practices. Wellbeing research can also provide the means through which the changes needed can be achieved. The more inclusive and plural disciplinary approach to wellbeing research we envisage is helpful in establishing whose knowledges come to matter, what values and goals are pursued in the name of wellbeing, and how more diverse methods and standpoints can contribute to wellbeing research and global policy debates. The complexity of wellbeing makes it challenging to pin down, but it is this very multiplicity of wellbeing that provides the basis for transformation. The transformational potential of wellbeing lies in a new focus not on ‘what works’ but ‘how and why things do (or do not) work’, ‘how and why we behave the way we do’ and ‘why things are the way they are’. This means engaging with our

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histories, understanding how we got here, as well as our futures; understanding where we want to go. A research focus on transformation means moving beyond incremental change or reform at the individual or organisational level. Changing one element in the system is not enough. We need greater ruptures to penetrate across multiple existing systems of practices, beliefs, behaviours and narratives. The fundamental changes necessary to overcome global challenges need to occur at a whole systems level, and wellbeing research is one element of the imperative to generate change. This transformational change is not something that can be assessed exclusively via the kinds of programmes or projects represented in many chapters in this volume. Indeed whole systems evaluation is an area that is still in the early stages of development (Quinn Patton, 2019). Nonetheless this volume collectively points us in the direction for shaping the sometimes far-reaching and enduring changes which are envisaged by social researchers and others. Transformative potential lies in shifting cultures of practice that break negative feedback loops and promote positive wellbeing. Enabling a shift in culture away from othering, exclusion, environmental degradation and punishment, and towards acceptance, inclusion and empowerment could aid the promotion of human flourishing, collective action and planetary wellbeing. What wellbeing research offers that is unique is a co-evolving transformation of the self with the transformation of the multiple systems of society. Zielke (Chapter 3) for example challenges us to think of our own knowledge as partial, making space for multiple integrated perspectives, and breaking down the walls that exclude marginal voices. This raises questions about what different ways of understanding wellbeing would we research. What different solutions, policy recommendations and interventions may we find if we allowed a more diverse range of perspectives and more open definitions of wellbeing to be heard? At the time of writing (October 2020) the world is still experiencing its greatest health pandemic, Covid-19. This has not only upended economic and social systems but has exposed deeply ingrained inequalities and injustices. A palatable sense of possibility and transformational change seems to be within grasp. The research in this volume demonstrates how wellbeing could form the foundations of a new post-pandemic world. Fundamental questions of social difference, interconnection, inequity, common values and diverse wellbeing needs are cast in a new light. Wellbeing research has the potential to inform how we can best support each other towards the kind of future we collectively envision. Researching wellbeing provides the means for actively being, engaging, imagining and forming new worlds. To borrow from Gibson-Graham (2008), the opportunity arises not only in terms of what wellbeing says about the world, but what it can do to the world and how it can do it, namely, the identification of what could be. This sense of imagination

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is not well-served by wellbeing metrics and evidence alone. Where wellbeing research contributes to a different worldview, we can see existing problems from a different perspective. This opens up the tantalising potential for identifying different solutions and making alternate futures possible. But there is no magic bullet here. Wellbeing research will only be of value where it is put into practice. This means not only putting wellbeing evidence to work, but examining the politics of how knowledge about wellbeing is produced and acted upon. It is only through navigating this sense of contestation that we can think about wellbeing as a transformative lens for action. We hope this volume takes us a step closer.

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Joseph, J. and J.A. McGregor (2020), Wellbeing, Resilience and Sustainability: The New Trinity of Governance. Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan/Springer. Kahneman, D., A.B. Krueger, D.A. Schkade, N. Schwarz and A.A. Stone (2004), ‘A survey method for characterizing daily life experience: The day reconstruction method’, Science, 1776‒1780. Lin, K. and P. Ward (2009), ‘Special Issue: Social quality in Asia and Europe’, Development and Society, 38, 201‒208. Lyubomirsky, S. and H.S. Lepper (1999), ‘A measure of subjective happiness: Preliminary reliability and construct validation’, Social Indicators Research, 46, 137–155. Maasoumi, E. and G. Yalonetzky (2012), ‘Introduction to robustness in multidimensional wellbeing analysis’, Econometric Reviews, 32 (1), 1‒6. MacKerron, G. and S. Mourato (2013), ‘Happiness is greater in natural environments’, Global Environmental Change, 23 (5), 992‒1000. McGregor, J.A. and N. Pouw (2017), ‘Towards an economics of well-being’, Cambridge Journal of Economics, 41, 1123–1142. Myers, D.G. and E. Diener (2018), ‘The scientific pursuit of happiness’, Perspectives on Psychological Science, 13 (2), 218‒225. Noll, H.H. (2011), ‘The Stiglitz–Sen–Fitoussi report: Old wine in new skins? Views from a social indicators perspective’, Social Indicators Research, 102, 111‒116. Noll, H.H (2013), ‘Subjective social indicators: Benefits and limitations for policy making – an introduction to this special issue’, Social Indicators Research, 114, 1‒11. OECD (2011), How’s Life?: Measuring Well-being. Paris: OECD Publishing. https://​ doi​.org/​10​.1787/​9789264121164​-en. Office for National Statistics (ONS) (2020), ‘Personal well-being estimates’. https://​ www​.ons​.gov​.uk/​peoplepop​ulationand​community/​wellbeing/​datasets/​person​ alwellbein​gestimates. Pluess, M. (2015), Genetics of Psychological Well-Being: The Role of Heritability and Genetics in Positive Psychology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pollard, E.L. and P.D. Lee (2003), ‘Child well-being: A systematic review of the literature’, Social Indicators Research, 61, 59‒78. Pykett, J. and J. Cromby (2017), ‘Mapping happiness, measuring urban emotions’, in V. Higgins and W. Larner (eds), Assembling Neoliberalism. Expertise, Practices, Subjects. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 195‒216. Quinn Patton, M. (2019), Blue Marble Evaluation: Premises and Principles. New York: Guildford Press. Ryff, C. (1989), ‘Happiness is everything, or is it?: Explorations on the meaning of psychological well-being’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 57, 1069‒1081. Sachs, J. (2018), ‘Good governance in the 21st century’, in World Happiness Council, Global Happiness Council Report. http://​www​happinesscouncil​.org/​, 3‒10. Seligman, M.E. and M. Csikszentmihalyi (2000), ‘Positive psychology: An introduction’, American Psychologist, 55, 5‒14. Sen, A. (1999), Development as Freedom. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Shiffman, S., A.A. Stone and M.R. Hufford (2008), ‘Ecological momentary assessment’, Annual Review of Clinical Psychology, 4(1), 1‒32. Singh, R. and A. Alexandrova (2020), ‘Happiness economics as technocracy’, Behavioural Public Policy, 4 (2), 236‒244.

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Smith, T.S.J. and L. Reid (2018), ‘Which “being” in wellbeing? Ontology, wellness and the geographies of happiness’, Progress in Human Geography, 42 (6), 807–829. Spiller, C., L. Erakovic, M. Henare and E. Pio (2011), ‘Relational well-being and wealth: Māori business and an ethic of care’, Journal of Business Ethics, 98, 153‒169. Stiglitz, J.E., A. Sen and J.P. Fitoussi (2009), Report by the Commission on the Measurement of Economic Performance and Social Progress – Executive Summary. economie.gouv.fr. Tanzer, J.R. and L. Weyandt (2020), ‘Imaging happiness: Meta analysis and review’, Journal of Happiness Studies, 21, 2693–2734. Thin, N. (2012), Social Happiness. Theory into Policy and Practice. Bristol: Policy Press. Trebeck, K. and J. Williams (2019), The Economics of Arrival. Ideas for a Grown Up Economy. Bristol: Bristol University Press. Wallace, J. (2019), Wellbeing and Devolution. Reframing the Role of Government in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. London: Palgrave Macmillan. https://​www​ .palgrave​.com/​gp/​book/​9783030022297. Waterman, A.S. (1993), ‘Two conceptions of happiness: Contrasts of personal expressiveness (eudaimonia) and hedonic enjoyment’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 64, 678‒689. White, S.C. (2017), ‘Relational wellbeing: Re-centring the politics of happiness, policy and the self’, Policy & Politics, 45 (2), 121‒136. Winefield, H.R., T.K. Gill, A.W. Taylor and R.M. Pilkington (2012), ‘Psychological well-being and psychological distress: Is it necessary to measure both?’, Psychology of Well-Being: Theory, Research and Practice, 2, art. 3. https://​doi​.org/​10​.1186/​ 2211​-1522​-2​-3. WHO (2020), Implementing Health 2020: 2012‒2014. Copenhagen: WHO Regional Office for Europe. Yen, J. (2010), ‘Authorizing happiness: Rhetorical demarcation of science and society in historical narratives of positive psychology’, Journal and Theoretical and Philosophical Psychology, 30 (2), 67‒78.

2. Commentary to Part I: reanimating the radical possibilities of wellbeing Sarah Atkinson What constitutes a good life and what facilitates its realisation? These are experiential questions provoking centuries of philosophical thought and underpinning, at least ostensibly, the re-emergence of widespread policy attention to wellbeing in the 21st millennium. While such questions are deceptively simple and, at best, portals to a myriad of further questions, they do highlight how wellbeing, or any of its closely related concepts such as flourishing, quality of life, happiness, wellness, challenges thinking about social progress to go beyond, or even to replace, economic growth. Much of the enthusiasm for mainstreaming wellbeing within policy goals, policy practices and policy evaluations recognise this opportunity to open a space in which radically to reconsider the values we pursue, the connections we build and the futures we generate. The operationalisation of wellbeing as a concept, however, has not delivered on these possibilities. On the contrary, there is now a substantial body of research evidencing the ways in which wellbeing has been integrated into the practices of contemporary governance and become another instrument through which to maintain, rather than challenge, the status quo (McCormack and Salmenniemi, 2016; Smith and Vonthethoff, 2017; Whitehead et al., 2019). Such arguments draw attention to the mobilisation of wellbeing as an internalised and subjective attitudinal construct that is dependent on individual responsibility for its maintenance and premised on the assumption of human nature as rationally self-maximising self-interest. This in turn feeds the growth of an industry supporting individual investment in wellbeing (Davies, 2015) and eclipses consideration and importance of collective life such as sociality, community, history or sustainability (Atkinson et al., 2020). As the editors collate this volume (in late summer, 2020), the Covid-19 pandemic has made visible the inequalities globally, nationally and locally in livelihoods, places and risks to health, the vulnerability of global capitalism to shocks and the benefits to other forms of life with whom we share our planet when human life slows. The pandemic is, nonetheless, only a more striking case of a set of existing and burgeoning crises that includes environmental degradation, inequalities, mental health and modern forms of slavery and other violations 23

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of human rights. Dismayed by the co-option of wellbeing into the processes of governance that, at best, does nothing to address these crises and, at worst, actively produces and reproduces them, some authors, myself included, have asked whether it is time to abandon the concept of wellbeing altogether and seek other tools to challenge the status quo (Atkinson, 2020). The authors in this first section decide on a more optimistic approach, one that refuses to give up on the radical potential that the concept of wellbeing may still afford. The reflections they provide recognise, and indeed build out from, a profound awareness of the shortcomings in the work done with and through the concept of wellbeing in contemporary policy. In response, they counter with sophisticated engagements with various social theorists, social and political concepts, methodological tools and empirical accounts. The content is rich and varied, speaking to multiple debates including: the relations of individual, sociality and structures; differentiation, inclusivity and justice; the nature of being human. This section as a whole brings a welcome and necessary provocation to hopefulness and a determination to recover and reanimate the radical possibilities inhering to the concept of wellbeing. Reanimating the radical possibilities of wellbeing demands that we contemplate ‘making other worlds’ (Zielke, Chapter 3). Critiques of contemporary global capital and associated forms of governance have addressed the question of why we might do this, and the chapters in this section contribute in ways that position issues such as power, injustice, marginalisation, alienation and care as central to conceptualising wellbeing. The question of how we go about making other worlds is a far more difficult challenge and the chapters in this section all contribute through interventions into methodology, theory, concepts and empirical accounts related to wellbeing. There is a strong common thread through this section of advocating and espousing approaches to thinking and researching wellbeing that diverge from those currently in practice in mainstream wellbeing work. The mainstream measures and monitors much of wellbeing, and all of subjective wellbeing, through individual data on a range of indicators which can then be aggregated and disaggregated to assess association, distribution and social differentiation (see Atkinson et al., 2020). This approach is underwritten by assumptions of an individualised and self-interested human nature, generalisable, even universalised, responses and expressions of wellbeing regardless of setting, culture or experience, and in many cases, a policy response to enhance how people might manage their wellbeing through their own behavioural and attitudinal choices. The authors in these chapters are having none of this and firmly insist on bringing to the foreground the political, social, spatial, cultural and historical contexts as vital to any understanding and assessment of wellbeing. They direct our attention to the offer from different research approaches. Queer and feminist (Zielke, Chapter 3) approaches stress the value of open, qualitative

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data collection that captures the diversity of lived experiences and the ways people navigate their individual lives within structural constraints and opportunities (Cieslik, Chapter 5). Such first-hand accounts, made within an explicit framing of wider political relations, reveal what is surely the core of wellbeing, that is what being, doing and participating in the conditions of different social spaces feels like (Cieslik, Chapter 5; Smith and Dombroski, Chapter 6). This attention to the messy details of everyday life not only documents the impacts of power but rejects normative and abstract understandings of justice and the political subject in favour of constituting politics as inherently personal (Zielke, Chapter 3). These approaches also intentionally engage power and injustice by centring the marginalisation of people and issues, as does the call for a renewed engagement with Marxian analyses of human nature, alienation and use value (Watson, Chapter 4). The authors do not shy away from the challenges of these kinds of approaches, particularly in the face of the relatively limited engagement from mainstream wellbeing work and the difficulties of translating the insights from ‘messy’ data into practical indicators. The authors, supported by this whole volume, argue for the value of expanding the diversity of disciplinary contributions within wellbeing research beyond economics, psychology and philosophy. The challenges of interdisciplinary work are, nonetheless, multiple and demand a willingness to confront conflict and to support debate across divergent voices in order to build understanding beyond a ‘fragmentary pastiche’ of disciplines that can enable the emergence of negotiated truths (Zielke, Chapter 3). This requires recognition that the measurement of wellbeing is not a politically neutral activity and for indicators to be meaningful socially, their development needs to be informed by political analysis, such as a gendered analysis, of the kind of detailed qualitative research illustrated by Mark Cieslik (Chapter 5). There are multiple conceptual and theoretical resources across the chapters that offer entry-points and assistance in breaking out of engrained ways of thinking about wellbeing and entrenched assumptions about human nature. Thomas Smith and Kelly Dombroski introduce three concepts – care, commons, and resonance – to provoke an engagement with wellbeing as something we do together, specifically in terms of ‘surviving well together’. Several authors also flag the opportunities to explore a collective wellbeing through the work on affects as, amongst other things, potentially connective and as enabling us to side-step the pervasive individualism of mainstream wellbeing approaches (Smith and Dombroski; Zielke). This brings into view a whole set of relational aspects to wellbeing that are rarely included in mainstream measures and that revolve around the pleasure of being with others, including friendliness, trust, conviviality or companionable connection (Smith and Dombroski). A possible expanded lexicon of relational wellbeing excavates a more fundamental question of what it is that we value, pursue and enjoy, and

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what it is that subverts, misdirects or obstructs this. This is most explicit in the chapter by David Watson presenting a Marxian analysis of human nature and his own stress on Marx’s discussion of use value of labour. Capitalist economies clearly undermine wellbeing if, as Marx argued, they have resulted in a human nature alienated from the intrinsic value of productive labour. The question left is the identification of what ‘use values’ do enable human nature and societal wellbeing and how we support these institutionally. Watson links this question to existing work within wellbeing on capabilities but also to empirical study of a variety of spaces in which production, consumption and exchange operate for values beyond the purposes of generating surplus value. Watson and several others (Zielke, Smith and Dombroski) flag the work of Gibson-Graham (2006) on hybrid and community economies as a theoretically and empirically informed place in which to find possibilities for bottom-up, local or challenging activities for a different engagement with wellbeing. This ‘doing’ of wellbeing, particular in Gibson-Graham as a communal effect, has resonance in Cieslik’s empirical work on wellbeing within the trajectories of people’s lives, the decisions and trade-offs made. Together these complement and begin to open potential ways of documenting the formation of wellbeing in ways that are sensitive to time, place, culture and politics, whilst reflecting on what support and modes of communal action might both scaffold these trajectories and provide new spaces for wellbeing through collective participation. In both cases, wellbeing is not positioned as something to be acquired, as suggested in the mainstream advocacy of personal development (see Ehrenreich 2010 for a critique of this), but rather as an effect of a range of actions, stimulating the potential for new theories of wellbeing as ‘doing’ (Cieslik). The role of theory in wellbeing research emerges explicitly in several chapters and, again, Gibson-Graham informs some of these reflections having posed this question about what theory can do for us: ‘What if we asked theory to do something else – to help us see openings, to help us find happiness, to provide a space of freedom and possibility?’ (Gibson-Graham, 2006, 7, cited in Smith and Dombroski). Zielke similarly draws attention to the agency that theory has in making the world, drawing on Gibson-Graham again, ‘how we represent the world contributes to enacting that world’ (Gibson-Graham, 2014, 149, cited in Zielke). With this collapsing of categories of what to discover and how to do it, of ontology and epistemology, intimates how we may also be able to collapse entrenched dualisms related to wellbeing of human and other, of agency and research, and of wellness and illness (Zielke, Cieslik). These rethinkings of the role of theory, the collapsing of ontology and epistemology, and the challenges brought to wellbeing categories from interdisciplinary debates demand the recognition of the potential of research to function as agency as much as reflection in relation to society in general and as practice as much as assessment in relation to wellbeing in particular.

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The challenges for a more just and inclusive experience of wellbeing are huge and likely to grow. The chapters in this first section show how thinking about what wellbeing is, could be, and could do, still has the potential to be a central tool in tackling the imminent global and local crises of inequality, environment and conflict, but this thinking is going to need a serious overhaul if this potential is to be realised. This is made particularly clear by Smith and Dombroski who introduce a final tantalising concept in their chapter, that of resonance. Smith and Dombroski draw on the work of Rosa (2019) and argue that relations of resonance serve as the basis of a good life underpinning important practices of care, friendship, politics, alienation and so forth. Living through a mode of resonance, however, requires allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, a language that expressly counters the privileging of independence, autonomy, resilience and personal positivity that infuses much of our contemporary wellbeing discourses. The near future of the next few years will witness whether the disruptions of a global pandemic, the associated economic crisis and growing awareness of environmental threats prompt critical exploration for different ways of ‘surviving well together’ and a wider engagement with the kinds of alternative engagements with wellbeing aired across these chapters. What is clear is that these authors, their modes of theorisation and practice in research themselves are active participants in trying to make that happen through reanimating the radical possibilities that the concept of wellbeing has to offer.

REFERENCES Atkinson, S. (2020) The toxic effects of subjective wellbeing and potential tonics. Social Science and Medicine. https://​doi​.org/​10​.1016/​j​.socscimed​.2020​.113098 Atkinson, S., Bagnall, A.M., Corcoran, R., South, J. and Curtis, S. (2020) Being well together: individual subjective and community wellbeing. Journal of Happiness Studies 21: 1903‒1921. Davies, W. (2015) The Happiness Industry. London: Verso Books. Ehrenreich, B. (2010) Smile or Die: How Positive Thinking Fooled America and the World. London: Granta. Gibson-Graham, J.K. (2006) A Postcapitalist Politics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Gibson-Graham, J.K. (2014) Rethinking the economy with thick description and weak theory. Current Anthropology 55: 147‒153. McCormack, D. and Salmenniemi, S. (2016) The biopolitics of precarity and the self. European Journal of Cultural Studies 19: 3‒15. Rosa, H. (2019) Resonance: A Sociology of Our Relationship to the World. Medford, MA: Polity. Smith, G.J.D. and Vonthethoff, B. (2017) Health by numbers? Exploring the practice and experience of datafied health. Health Sociology Review 26: 6‒21.

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Whitehead, M., Jones, R., Howell, R., Pykett, J. and Lilley, R. (2019) Neuroliberalism: cognition, context and the geographical bounding of rationality. Progress in Human Geography 43: 632‒649.

3. Towards a queer epistemological framework for wellbeing research Julia Zielke INTRODUCTION: OPENING THE TOOLBOX … survival is not an academic skill. It is learning how to stand alone, unpopular and sometimes reviled, and how to make common cause with those others identified as outside the structures in order to define and seek a world in which we can all flourish. It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths. For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women [or any other marginalised group] who still define the master’s house as their only source of support. (Lorde, 1984, p. 112)

Audre Lorde’s words are a timely reminder for the necessity of a different set of tools for thinking about and researching wellbeing. But it is also easy to misread her words: what she did not mean is that the master’s tools, that is the practices of powerful institutions like the government, businesses, media, health and social care sector are bad per se. Quite the opposite, many of these large institutions have actively adopted and embraced the tools that have emerged bottom-up in local communities. In a policy context, for instance, the rise of Big Society, localism and neighbourhood renewals have actively fostered community-based wellbeing interventions (Corcoran, 2020) such as social prescribing, where doctors prescribe activities like volunteering, arts classes or community gardening, instead of or adjunct to antidepressant or individual therapy (Stickley and Hui, 2012). Social prescribing does not only boost local economies and provide huge cost savings to the health and social care sector, it also has a sustainable, positive effect on the mental and social wellbeing of patients (Bickerdike et al., 2017; Swift, 2017; also see Gittins et al., Chapter 13 this volume). So where is the problem with using the ‘master’s tools’ then when they are bringing about positive change and are basically the same as those of local communities anyway? The problems, according to Lorde and other feminist thinkers concerned with human flourishing (Ahmed, 2006, 2010, 2013; 29

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Ehrenreich, 2010), is that these tools perpetuate rather than challenge the way that resources and power are distributed in society. This is problematic, to say the least, because the root causes for poor mental wellbeing are often inextricably entrenched in socio-economic, spatial and political inequalities (Abdallah et al., 2014; Marmot et al., 2017; Wilkinson and Pickett, 2010; see also Chapters 4, 6, 7 and 8 this volume). So to say that the onus of ‘being well’ lies with the individual (the patient, citizen or consumer) is merely an exercise of passing the buck onto the individual who ought to ‘just be happy’ or ‘pull themselves together’ (Ahmed, 2010; Cederström and Spicer, 2015; Ehrenreich, 2010). This shifting of responsibility then distracts from persisting and deep-rooted structural inequalities, which are the foundation of the master’s house. If we continue to use the master’s tools, even though they look like our own, only the ‘most narrow perimeters of change are possible and allowable’ (Lorde, 1984, p. 112), precisely because the powerful are invested in keeping intact their house as a sole locus of power. It is with this context in mind, that feminist and queer authors are calling for genuine change and ask: How can feminist epistemologies and ‘queer tools’ help us understand who or which bodies produce what kind of wellbeing knowledge and how? They do so by offering insights from the margins that challenge contemporary (policy) discourses around wellbeing that, in buzzwordy fashion, are often just looking at symptoms rather than causes, thereby continuing to ignore the plight of the less fortunate. Before moving on to the six different tools, this chapter opens with an extended introduction, as a feminist instruction on why we need these tools and how we can utilise them in wellbeing research. ‘Call the Operator’: The Personal is Political One of the key tenets of feminist theory is its emphasis on affect and experience and an insistence on how one’s personal emotions, like feeling depressed, are actually a reflection of a wider socio-political ‘sickness’ brought about by an unequal distribution of power and resources (Cvetkovich, 2012; Hanisch, 1969; Segal, 2017). Therefore, we need to weigh up the power of affect and the way it inevitably moves us in our thinking and political actions, both as humans as well as researchers (Hemmings, 2012; Pedwell and Whitehead, 2012; Tomlinson, 2010). Sara Ahmed, for instance, sees rage and anger as her prime motivator for living a feminist life and contributing to feminist scholarship (Ahmed, 2017). For her, like many other feminists (Lorde, 1984; Young, 1997), the deeply felt, everyday injustices and mistreatment she has experienced as a queer woman from mixed ethnic origins, have fuelled and ignited her passion to expose and challenge these injustices. Rather than turning inwards on feelings of sadness, rejection and frustration, feminists

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tend to turn outwards and hold their environment accountable for the structural disenfranchisement they and other disenfranchised groups are experiencing. This experience is more than just a feeling of being upset, it comes in the very tangible and embodied form of higher suicide rates, poor housing, higher number of teen pregnancies, higher obesity rates, higher unemployment rates, fewer social connections, and fewer social support infrastructures, just to name a few (Abdallah et al., 2014; Wilkinson and Pickett, 2010). Therefore, the way we feel and function in our day to day lives is not just a private affair but is indicative of oppressing hegemonic orders and (lack of) infrastructural support systems that value some ways of living as more ‘desirable’ than others (Butler, 2015; Segal, 2017). For Hanisch (1969), a second wave feminist, it is this structure which lies at the root of our ‘sickness’. She goes against the idea of individual theory and instead advocates that any healing needs to take place on a collective level, making the personal a concern for the political: ‘women are messed over, not messed up’ (Hanisch, 1969, p. 2). ‘Do It Yourself’: Caring for One Another Code (2015) draws a strong analogy between caring and knowledge. In a feminist vein, coming to know about xyz is coming to care for xyz. We develop a sense of stewardship and advocacy for the kind of knowledge we (partially) discover in our research. And we take on responsibility to make this knowledge heard, to have our participants’ affective dispositions become part of a wider academic discourse on what it means to be and become well (and see Smith and Dombroski, Chapter 6 this volume). This is what Code (2006, 2015) refers to as epistemic responsibility: ‘people singly and collectively – indeed, singly because collectively – are responsible for what and how they know, on an understanding of responsibility that is as epistemological as it is ethical and political’ (Code, 2006, p. ix). Inevitably, then, our job is not (only) one of describing wellbeing, it is one of collective caring brought about by the unavoidable nature of having been moved. Once we started feeling, listening and looking, we can start drawing connections and recognising the entrenched effects between people, power and place (Marmot et al., 2017). Caring for others and one’s own wellbeing is underpinning our ability to produce knowledge about wellbeing in the first place. In other words, we cannot properly understand the holistic complexities of wellbeing if we do not care. This is why wellbeing is not just the outcome or object of wellbeing research, it is the very starting point and subject of wellbeing research. As wellbeing researchers (feminist or not), we cannot help but be moved by what we encounter in our field of research. In the context of doing sensitive research, Mallon and Elliott (2019) describe this as a pain by proxy through

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the power of empathy. That is by ‘caring’ how our participants experience their (lack of) wellbeing, we share their pain and might even be reminded of and reveal part of our own painful histories. But we are also moved by the neoliberal climate under which we research, that may lead to depression, stress and anxiety, more so than in most other professional groups (Berg et al., 2016; Mountz et al., 2015). The question is what we do with that emotion, how to address it? How legitimate is my own emotion over that of my participants, for instance? And why would we keep these emotions separate in the first place? That is, to what degree can an emotion be collective? How do we join our affective dispositions in the struggle of being heard and seen, of being well together? It is here where the sting of more recent feminist thought lies (Butler, 2015; Segal, 2017) and where we can think of a feminist knowledge production as a practice of coming together to care, that is care for one self and care for one another (Code, 2015; Martin et al., 2015; Mountz et al., 2015). ‘Know thy Powers’: Introducing Queer Tools In this chapter, I am therefore concerned with how we come to know and care about wellbeing (or that what we refer to as wellbeing) vis-à-vis its affective, complex, interdisciplinary and politically charged backdrop (Alexandrova, 2017; Dodge et al., 2012; MacKian, 2009; Sointu, 2005; Watson, Chapter 4 this volume). That is to say, I am interested in the field of wellbeing research as a whole, and want to understand better how different explanations, definitions and epistemic cultures can jointly participate in a discourse around the multiple facets of what wellbeing means to different people in different contexts (for example as reported in Part II of this volume), without homogenising these views. How do we, as researchers, not necessarily fall back on familiar assumptions, naïve interpretations, available discourses (see also Searle, Chapter 18 this volume)? What does it mean to know about wellbeing in one way but not another? It is with these questions in mind, that this chapter conceives a feminist epistemological framework in the shape of six queer tools for wellbeing research. I am calling these tools ‘queer’ because being queer or queering, following Ahmed (2006), is a way of orientation towards other objects. This orientation is not just a sexual one in that one may desire other bodies, it is also a phenomenological one in that one attunes to other ways of being conscious, of experiencing and feeling, especially those that are less proximate to us (Ahmed, 2006; Butler, 1993). By orienting ourselves towards other, less proximate bodies (bodies of flesh, bodies of a community, organisational bodies, bodies of knowledge, institutional bodies), a queer approach may help us uncover and question the political structures that underpin the ways we research and define wellbeing and help us orient towards new ways that address the deeper

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causes of poor mental health and wellbeing in our communities. A feminist approach distinguishes itself from other critical approaches towards wellbeing research and epistemology by putting emphasis on bodies and affect, linking both to wider structural inequalities. As such, it helps to address the ways on how wellbeing knowledge is deeply connected with our own and one another’s dispositions and situatedness.

SIX QUEER TOOLS FOR WELLBEING RESEARCH ONE: Situating Knowledge: Against Objectivity and for Understanding Ourselves and Each Other The knowing self is partial in all its guises, never finished, whole, simply there and original; it is always constructed and stitched together imperfectly, and therefore able to join with another, to see together without claiming to be another. (Haraway, 1991, p. 193)

This first tool is one that chips away at the concept of knowledge as something perfect, concrete and absolute and introduces it as partial, embodied and constitutive. Feminist epistemologists or sociologists of sciences thus build a body of critique against a more positivist, ‘masculine’ model of sciences, concerned with universal rules, rationality, hierarchy, control, as well as artificially created binaries between body/mind, nature/culture or object/ subject (Fox-Keller, 1983; Harding, 2008; Harding and Norberg, 2005). In the social sciences, this mode of knowledge production has historically assigned simple causal relationships between people and certain social categories and order (‘ill’, ‘deprived’, ‘poor’, ‘black’, ‘gay’, ‘homeless’, ‘single parent’, ‘foreign’). These types of simple explanation then allow institutions to govern everyday lives in a way that is conducive to sustaining the social order and mechanisms of control perpetuating social injustices (Harding and Norberg, 2005). Knowledge is therefore, intimately connected to practices of power that become inscribed on to our bodies (Butler, 2015). In other words, what is known and how it is known has a direct effect on people’s wellbeing and their chances for a good life. Knowledge about wellbeing is performative of wellbeing. To challenge these practices, feminists, like Haraway (1991) put forward a radically different way of knowing. Rather than deterministically assigning ‘reality’ to a neatly contained group of people, a feminist standpoint recognises that there is no ‘real’ that awaits to be discovered by an objective researcher, no fixed categories or universal patterns to be established. Instead, the knower is always situated in her specific standpoint in the world. Haraway’s epistemology of situatedness has been criticised for putting forward ‘a politics of “sites”

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and “spaces” from which materiality is largely vacated’ (Katz, 2001, p. 1230), and therefore without attention to the globally conditioned effects of inequality (Katz, 2001; see also Swarr and Nagar, 2012). Indeed, our personal histories, different type of bodies, and different local as well as global socio-spatial contexts around us determine not only how we experience the world around us through affects, bodily sensations or narratives, but also determine what kind of knowledge these experiences produce. Notwithstanding possible criticism, an epistemology of situatedness is not to say that we cannot put ourselves in the shoes of someone else or exchange our experiences with someone else, in fact, as Haraway’s quote above makes clear, it is because our knowing is partial, that we can join with an other’s knowing – imperfectly and without claims to absoluteness. In wellbeing research, giving a voice to bodies of knowledge that are normally excluded from knowledge production (for example, experts by experience (Rose, 1999)) may help stitch together an inclusive and porous web of multiple partial knowers. Such a web may challenge the often monolithic, inflexible and ready-formed solutions and therapies vulnerable people are often offered, specifically in the context of mental health and wellbeing care (Swift, 2017). In short, a feminist epistemology acknowledges: first, that we can only know things partially and how that understanding is always plural and in discourse with other ways of knowing; and, second, that by appreciating this plurality we can open up a holistic framework for understanding each other and ourselves. The next tool will focus on possible barriers that feminists might encounter when building such a holistic framework. TWO: Breaking Down Walls: Power and Inclusion Feminism: how we survive the consequences of what we come up against by offering new ways of understanding what we come up against […] A feminist job is also ‘a banging your head against a brick wall job.’ Our job description is a wall description. (Ahmed, 2017, p. 22 and p. 110)

The next tool exposes and disrupts wall building. Wall building, for Ahmed (2017), is the practice of drawing lines of inclusion and exclusion – specifically around the context of diversity in academia. There is ample evidence to support the claim that more diverse research and learning environments make for more creative and innovative (research) outputs, simply because people with different backgrounds have different experiences and will approach the same question in different ways. This could help fellow collaborators and colleagues to question their own assumptions and build a more nuanced and inclusive understanding of their respective field (Bodla et al., 2018; Guillaume et al., 2013).

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Inclusive environments then need to include voices who did not have the privilege of going to university and participating in academic or public discourse often because of where and as who they were born. Women, people of colour, people with low socio-economic capital or voices of the Global South are often facing certain barriers when trying to enter the realms where knowledge is produced or challenged. Their voices remain either completely unheard by the virtue of not being seen, or muffled, that is they want to speak and have something to say but are perceived as nothing but noise on the other side of an imaginary wall that separates ‘us’ from ‘them’ (see Rancière et al., 2001; see also Azmi, Chapter 9 this volume). To better understand the ‘us’ and ‘them’, we need to ask: who are today’s wellbeing researchers? Where do they come from? How will their dispositions and their subjectivities determine the type of knowledge they are likely to produce? And what stops these silenced voices from stepping into the realms of knowledge production? As often these people belong to the group of the privileged, we must, on top of asking these questions, analyse and discover what prevents marginalised voices from stepping into this knowledge production and make sure they can make it into discourse. What prevents an inclusive discourse according to Ahmed (2017), is walls. Walls continue to exist because people in power (the ‘masters’) are invested in not seeing them, as any new, diverse arrival would naturally widen the scope and scale of the kind of research carried out (Mountz et al., 2015). This move towards more inclusive research would therefore also usher in a substantial shift in decision power, control, and influence that might be felt in terms of a cut in salary, research time, funding or loss of senior positions (ibid.). Thus we have a decision to make that entails real consequence to the field of wellbeing research: do we invest funding and time to research wellbeing solutions that are effective for white, middle-class people who can afford to take out hours of their day to follow a social prescribing course and volunteer in their community; or are we looking for solutions for harder to reach people, like single mothers living in a low-income community who simply cannot leave their children unattended in the afternoon to join a knitting group (Riley et al., 2013)? What type of knowledge would we produce that we could use to achieve this? What different ways of understanding wellbeing would we build, if we created knowledge environments with no walls towards participation? What different solutions, policy recommendations and interventions may we co-create if we allowed bodies from that other side of the wall to speak and be heard? Taking a more personal tone, Ahmed (2017) further urges us to reflect on the ways in which we are bruised and hit by the walls, inviting us here, to share with others our experiences of coming up against walls. By doing so we can also begin to empathise with voices that were excluded from prominent

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discourses and give them a voice by proxy. We may assemble the ghosts of those left behind and insisting that they, too, matter (Butler, 2015). As of yet, wellbeing and policy researchers continue to research in silos and are failing to address the entrenched needs of these hard to reach groups simply because the walls are drawn in such a way that keeps them from collaborating pluralistically and holistically around the wicked problems of wellbeing (Smith and Reid, 2018; and see Smith and Dombroski, Chapter 6 this volume). Specifically, in the context of wellbeing research, the widely spread understanding of wellbeing stems from the disciplines of economics and psychology and often looks at wellbeing as an ex post facto list of attributes that describe ‘static, articulate and abstracted individuals’ (Smith and Reid, 2018, p. 816) but does not do justice to the context-specific, emergent, outward-looking subjectivities of feeling well (Atkinson, 2013; Smith and Reid, 2018). THREE: Emancipate from Your Discipline: Interdisciplinarity I If we follow disciplinary habits of tracing disciplinary-defined causes through the corresponding disciplinary-defined effects, we will miss all the crucial intra-actions among these forces that fly in the face of any specific set of disciplinary concerns. (Barad, 2003, p. 810)

A conclusion on the necessity to break down walls is also central in studies on interdisciplinarity, especially in regard to better understanding complex social issues across different academic disciplines (Klein, 2012; Weingart, 2012). Therefore, the next tool is intended to encourage interdisciplinary collaborations through the emancipation of oneself from one’s discipline’s often specific and narrow ways of thinking and speaking. Indeed, ‘[n]owhere is the need for genuine interdisciplinarity more evident than in research related to health and wellbeing. For a human being is patently a totality and cannot be studied as a congeries of distinct and separable parts’ (Bhaskar et al., 2018, p. 3). When it comes to getting to the root of what makes a liveable life, it simply makes no sense to unreflectively follow the gospel of any single discipline as ‘a person cannot be perceived as being made up of a number of parts that relate to distinct disciplines’ (ibid.). For instance, for one discipline to only look at brain functions and another to solely look at the environment, when these are so intimately connected in the totality of human existence, we have the risk of missing perspectives that would otherwise help us gain a better understanding of what wellbeing actually is and where and how it emerges (Alexandrova, 2017; Callard and Fitzgerald, 2015; Lederbogen et al., 2011). Although the term ‘interdisciplinary’ is used generously to describe a number of wellbeing research projects, it is argued that most such projects merely present ‘a fragmentary pastiche of disciplines’ (Turner cited

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in Bhaskar et al., 2018, p. 19), a piecemeal of different opinions rather than truly interdisciplinary, intellectual integration. And despite a rich historical background in international, interdisciplinary health collaborations (think of the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals, for instance), there is very little critical awareness of how interdisciplinary wellbeing research actually works (Bhaskar et al., 2018). Sayer (2011, p. 14) links this to mutual hostilities across departments and faculties who, because of ongoing competitions for funding, have an interest in being perceived as different and distinct from their intellectual neighbours, despite possible synergies in interests. This may lead to parochialism and disciplinary reductionism that inhibit understanding of and communication about complex social (and socio-medical) mechanisms (see also tool 1). For instance: • Different disciplines might use different terms that describe the same or a very similar concept (consider for instance the overlap in the terms: happiness, subjective wellbeing, pleasure and joy; or belonging, togetherness and community). • Or they might use the same term to describe different concepts (think about the how the term ‘resilience’ can broadly refer to how a community is bouncing back to normal after a state of crisis, achieving environmental sustainability (Fazey et al., 2018); or how de-centralised health care infrastructures give ‘power back’ to local health care providers (Eley et al., 2013; Pencheon, 2015); or the idea of growing from personal experience after traumatic experiences (Ahmed, 2010)). • Or they use a term colloquially without any reference to concepts (note, for instance, the vast and varied literatures behind colloquially used terms like: practice, process, identity, health or power). These different terms and meanings arise because each discipline carries with it an epistemological culture that, to some degree, has to funnel complexity into concrete explanations, where cause can follow effect into a logical and coherent structure, necessary for wider science communication (cf. Barad, 2003, p. 810; Bowler and Morus, 2010; Callard, 2003; Fleck, 1980; Schoenberger, 2001). Citational practice Ahmed (2017) argues that these historically imbued, linear ways of understanding may also be linked to chains of citational practices as a ‘rather successful reproductive technology, a way of reproducing the world around certain bodies’ (Ahmed, 2013 online), thereby shaping the very formation and function of academic disciplines and their specific ‘canons’ (Mott and Cockayne, 2017; Keighren et al., 2012). Citational practices actively shape disciplinary

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habits, to come back to Barad’s words in the beginning and thereby routinely reproduce the interests, experiences and dispositions of (scholarly) bodies that are ‘white, male, able-bodied, economically privileged, heterosexual, and cisgendered (when the sex assigned at birth matches a person’s gender identity later in life)’ (Mott and Cockayne, 2017, p. 955). Arguably, these bodies experience less discrimination, struggle and exclusion in their organisational, professional and social roles because the epistemic environments around these bodies are designed in a way that helps them flourish and grow. At the same time these environments will make sure that other, less proximate bodies will be unable to thrive. For these bodies, environments created on the basis of specific citational practices are harsh and hostile (see tool 2). Citational practices can therefore actively produce exclusion and discrimination and lead to silo-thinking; that is the idea that one citational practice will not speak to another, insisting on each other’s historical uniqueness (Ahmed, 2017; Mott and Cockayne, 2017). However, citational practices may also be used as a deliberate tool to produce new and different kind of practices. For instance, Annemarie Mol (2002) and Sara Ahmed (2017), two feminists concerned with health, happiness and wellbeing, actively choose to only cite female authors, or (in case of Mol), those which have a feminist standpoint. This is, of course, a political choice that clearly states: if we want to create inclusive discourses around what it means to flourish, we need to, first and foremost, consider the experiences of those bodies less likely to flourish in the current social climate. We need to consider that socially marginalised people might express their affective dispositions and subjective experiences through different type of media and spread them through non-academic channels.1 This means that in order to challenge and make inclusive our citational practices, we need to consciously cite, and give a platform to, insights from other types of media, disciplines and voices than one’s own, for example from the Global South, from lesser known journals, from research published in a language not native to the reader, and from books and from non-academic sources like blogs (Mott and Cockayne, 2017; Swarr and Nagar, 2012). Adjusting the way we reproduce citational practices, may help break down cultures of disciplinary reductionism and silo thinking (Sayer, 2011) that is inhibiting intra-action between different disciplines vis-à-vis their epistemic environments (Barad, 2003). FOUR: Discipline Your Emancipation: Interdisciplinarity II Difference must not merely be tolerated, but seen as a fund of necessary polarities between which our creativity can spark like a dialectic…. Only within that interdependency of difference strengths, acknowledged and equal, can the power to seek

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new ways of being in the world generate, as well as the courage and sustenance to act where there are no charters. (Lorde, 1984, p. 112)

The next tool is almost antithetical to the previous one. Instead of emancipating oneself from the restraints of disciplinary discourse, we also need to subjugate ourselves to these constraints; this tool is one that helps us garner power through emphasising polarities and differences by means of subjugation. In their book on interdisciplinarity Callard and Fitzgerald (2015) are critical of the ‘typical’ advice given to interdisciplinary scholars: ‘relations of power need either to be overcome or at least faced up through reinvigorated forms of transparent dialogue, mutual respect, frank talking, and manifestations of emotions appropriate to the situation, such as anger’ (p. 98). They felt this approach acted as though the grounds they are working from was like a ‘chessboard of disciplines’ (p. 81) – even, symmetrical and purely transactional (cf. Rabinow, 2009). In other words, they criticise the belief that when researchers from two or more different disciplines can speak up for themselves and communicate effectively and self-reflectively (see Hemmings (2012) on failure of reflexivity in feminist thought), they will eventually reach some middle-ground or compromise. From their experience of researching between sociology, human geography and neurosciences, Callard and Fitzgerald (2015) contend that this sort of advice is creating false fantasies of mutuality when in reality financial, epistemic and social power is hardly ever evenly distributed between different actors. For instance, different researchers might have access to different departmental pots of money, have different writing practices and styles, and engage in different citational practices that afford them different recognisability or acceptance in different communities. What we need to come to terms with then is our own weakness and short-comings. The fact that within any interdisciplinary research collaboration on wellbeing there will be disagreements, tensions and viewpoints that might have been relevant but hidden in blind spots. Because wellbeing means so many different things to different people and is such a multifaceted field of study, a single research study has to battle with these negative spaces, the known unknowns as well as the unknown unknowns. In field research, too, we have to come to terms with the voices we could not reach in our recruitment efforts and the depth and nuance that interviewees were not willing or able to share within our own time constraints. Whereas this is of course for any type of research, the stakes are arguably much higher in wellbeing research as how we come to know about something contributes to how we enact it (see tool 6). And so when collaborating, wellbeing researchers are faced with a number of ethical and practical dilemmas: is it more important to understand the individual experiences of mental health service users, or should we talk more

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to front line workers and GPs, or should we talk to politicians, or should we perhaps do policy analysis; are we interested in making interventions on a local level with one single community or do we want to take an ecological view on the mental health challenges at hand? Whose opinions matter most and from which direction should we tackle our research question? There often is no one right answer, and different disciplines are likely to be interested in different units of analysis and therefore approach research design with different priorities in mind. While this is true for a number of research fields on complex problems, it is especially pertinent for wellbeing research. Choosing approach x over y carries with it a potential violence in that it reduces a person’s complex subjectivities and relational embeddedness in biological, social, economic and environmental systems into a single disciplinary pursuit and monolithic block of analysis of what might make someone ‘well’ (Bhaskar et al., 2018). Again, this is not bad in and of itself and to some degree necessary but what Callard and Fitzgerald (2015) want to draw our attention to is how this happens and with what possible consequences. Specifically, they talk about how, as wellbeing researchers, we often need to subjugate our own interests to those with whom we collaborate, including participants, funders, colleagues or reviewers. That is to say, by giving up the fantasy of mutual reflexivity (see also Hemmings, 2012, p. 153), we may (temporarily) accept a certain set of definitions of wellbeing that may not be native to our understanding of what wellbeing is or how it is operationalised as a research concept. For example, we may adapt theories from the psychology literature that have set out to measure how well we feel and how well we function, in order to trace improvements of subjective and objective factors of wellbeing over a period of time (for example based on Ryff and Keyes, 1995). This may serve the purpose of evidencing to funding bodies that a specific research project has ‘impact’, despite the fact that you may object to a simplified and atomistic tickbox-approach to understanding what is essentially a relational practice (Smith and Reid, 2018). In this example, you would subjugate your philosophical stance for the purpose of measuring impact and gaining institutional support. Through that moulding they might lose some of their edges, may need to give up some form of power, a sense of ‘standing your corner’. But on the other hand, through that subjugation they may also harness another kind of power that allows them to change and influence discourse from within, by intentionally using the language of those in power in a playful way (cf. Katz (1996) on minor theory). The key word here is intentionally. Intentional decisions mean that, at one point, we had a choice and were asked to consent in an informed way to the option that we chose. Here, Balmer (2013) draws parallels to sadomasochistic sex practices, like bondage, and puts forward the types of self-discovery and pleasure we may encounter when wilfully subjugating.

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This is a notion of interdisciplinarity that runs somewhat counter to the idea of democratic knowledge production by means of wall destruction (Ahmed, 2010; Harding and Norberg, 2005), but perhaps opens up more adaptable, strategic and emergent ways towards bringing together otherwise incommensurable views and interests while appreciating that there will always remain the not yet chartered. FIVE: Claiming Truthfulness in a Post-truth Era Our fieldwork showed that in medical practices a lot of work is done to coordinate between versions of reality. The politics, here, is not one of otherness. In a first instance, it is about fights; not between people (a politics of who) but between versions of reality (a politics of what). (Mol, 2014)

The fifth tool is a normative tool; against the backdrop of a ‘post-truth’ era it helps establish a framework for truthfulness in wellbeing discourse. Truthfulness can be defined as ‘a pervasive suspiciousness, a readiness against being fooled, an eagerness to see through appearances’ (Williams, 2002, p. 1). In contrast to truth, truthfulness has a history. It is imbued with social structures and politics of exclusion; as a concept truthfulness actively engages with the tension that comes with becoming suspicious and denying certain claims to knowledge (Hacking, 2005; Williams, 2002). I introduce this concept here because, if every body of knowledge from across different disciplines and even outside disciplines can claim a place in scientific discourse around wellbeing, we need to make sure that we do not allow lies, hate speech or capitalist growth fantasies into these discourses. We must prevent the manipulation and instrumentalisation of the discourses of being and becoming well to ensure they do not only benefit those already in power (Cederström and Spicer, 2015; Code, 2015; Ehrenreich, 2009). As an example, take the infamous red bus that was part of the Brexit campaign that claimed: ‘We send the EU £350 million a week, let’s fund our NHS2 instead’. The promise for improved health care struck a deep chord, especially, with more rural low-income communities hoping and yearning for better wellbeing services and more social justice (Loewenthal, 2016). Later, this claim turned out to be completely unfounded which goes to show how people’s vulnerabilities can be exploited to serve specific (political) interests by citing ‘facts’ that are, in fact, just tools for (voter) manipulation. In a post-truth era (Neimark et al., 2019), where opinions, fears and fact are often conflated, how can we make sure when we are producing knowledge about wellbeing, we can still claim a certain degree of validity, responsibility and advocacy (Code, 2015). We must, as scholars, not perpetuate the perverted discourses that often lie at the root of inequality, marginalisation and

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depression. I introduce here a tool to check whether and how some wellbeing research is perhaps more truthful than others (Hacking, 2005; Harding, 2008; Hartsock, 1983; Sayer, 2011). Although there is no simple feminist yardstick for measuring whose opinion is more true or right, feminist theory advocates to ‘stay with the trouble’ of these debates and not shying away from challenging the misrepresentations of facts, and offers alternative explanations of the lives of other, perhaps more precarious, bodies who matter just as much (Butler, 2015; Haraway, 2016; Hekman, 1997). It is this dialectical movement, the struggle between different knowers who converse and move with different human and non-human actors, imaginations and sensibilities. It is within these movements that something like truthfulness emerges. Here, ‘truthfulness’ does not belong to any one single entity, it is forever ephemeral and veracious, kept alive and valid through the heat, intensity and energy generated in debates, refusals, tensions, troubles, or ‘fights about version of reality’ between different bodies to come back to Mol’s (2014) words above. Focusing on this vitality for a moment (Rose, 2013), knowledge becomes ‘good’ or ‘true’ when it moves and can be moved across a spectrum, in flux with and folded through time and space, never rigid, never smooth, never complete, always responsive and situated. Truthfulness then can be defined as a struggle, rather than being a transcendental idea, between marginal and dominant voices (Hemmings, 2012) where the end goal is to represent all voices. Truthfulness becomes a crucial part of caring and sharing (Code, 2015) and constant renegotiation of knowledge by considering the multiple voices/ versions of reality/definitions of wellbeing that speak and are spoken to, listen and are listened to (cf. Mol, 2002). ‘Truthfulness’ emerges as a process of evaluation against these multiple definitions and the ability to move between them, settling at neither, never becoming a single or compromised ‘it’ to agree on (cf. Fraser, 1985). This lets us be open towards evolving definitions in response to these changing dispositions in time and space. In a post-truth era, ‘true’ or ‘good’ wellbeing knowledge will be able to join in these struggles and conversations, to stitch together with some and form alliances without becoming singular. By process of elimination, those claims that cannot join in these debates, either because they are not willing to listen or because they knowingly discriminate or offend other knowers, cannot claim truthfulness. SIX: Making Other Worlds By accepting that how we represent the world contributes to enacting that world, we collapse the distinction between epistemology and ontology. (Gibson-Graham, 2014, p. 149)

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Finally, when battling with questions of knowledge production, we must consider questions of epistemology (study of knowledge) and ontology (study of being); that is questions of how our role and experience in society contributes to how we come to know and what we come to know about being and becoming well. This final tool is a performative one; it brings about change by critiquing the split between ontology and epistemology as a ‘metaphysics that assumes an inherent difference between human and nonhumans, subject and object, mind and body, matter and discourse’ (Barad, 2007, p. 185). Critiques of dualistic thinking are also pertinent in wellbeing research that question the biomedical idea of health as a split between wellness and illness, looking at deficits rather than towards ways of flourishing (MacKian, 2009). Such dualistic thinking, however, does not appreciate that one might feel well within an illness, for instance one might have high wellbeing despite hearing voices, something that is traditionally considered as pathologic (Corstens et al., 2014), or women with chronic pain conditions may still live fulfilling lives, despite having to adapt to changes in how they can manage their everyday life (Juuso et al., 2011). Thinking about wellbeing non-dualistically therefore has real-world consequences for how we treat and care for those labelled ‘un-well’ and ‘well’. Gibson-Graham (2008, 2014) therefore not only considers what their research says about the world, but also what it does to the world. This is where research can become performative, by representing it in a way that brings into focus different types of narratives and engages with voices on the margins, creating a space for counter-narratives (Hemming, 2012) that fuel heat and debate, changing the landscape of that which is being enacted within. In that context, Waddock (2015, 2016) calls for new cultural ‘myths’ and stories, which she refers to as memes, that can create a counter-weight to growth-oriented practices and can help restore dignity and wellbeing in a holistic way (2016). By collapsing the sharp distinction between ontology and epistemology, it becomes conceivable that new memes of knowing will also produce new worlds of being. Hence, I argue knowledge production is no longer a reproduction of our environment ‘as it is’; instead it is a distortion and experience of our environment ‘as it could be’, stressing here that it could be different (see Searle, Chapter 18 this volume). A kind of different that is concerned with more hopeful and just futures enabling flourishing and wellbeing across the societal spectrum. The question is how to do that. Gibson-Graham (2008), relating to the economy, proposed to bring about change in three ways, which I have slightly reframed and adapted in the context of wellbeing:

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Ontological reframing Much like the economy, being well comes in many different and sometimes unexpected shapes and colours, not all of which are part of our vocabulary. To appreciate what works for wellbeing, we need to start broadening our vocabulary and look at practices of healing, support and companionship not typically associated with what we expect wellbeing to be or look like (think of prescriptive models like NEF 5 ways to wellbeing3) (Healy, 2008; Smith and Reid, 2018).

Re-reading for difference to excavate possibilities Gibson-Graham frames this point as a call for attunement towards diversity and the plight of those not yet heard and seen. But rather than this being an exercise of differentiation, it may be seen as a practice of finding commonalities across differences, to recognise one another’s irreconcilable otherness, while at the same time acknowledging how experiences of low mood, anxiety, anger, stress and disempowerment may be structurally similar. This acknowledgement of the shared experience may then become the grounds for a feeling of togetherness and initiate collective healing through a joining of forces, for instance through assembling (Butler, 2015).

Creativity to generate actual possibilities In the context of doing (wellbeing) research, creativity is pivotal in a number of ways. Art-based methods, for instance, may help us to understand someone else’s experience more fully. By co-creating knowledge through creative methods, we may join into a shared space of vulnerability and understanding. Through creative recruitment techniques we may be able to widen our sample and become more inclusive in those who we research with. And by analysing our data creatively, we are able to draw out new counter-narratives and allow for distortion of our assumptions and that of the literature. It is in these practices of distortion that we can create room for othernesses of experiences, emotions and stories, where it becomes clearer what works for whom and under what circumstances.

These three ways of thinking aim to open up new ways to approach wellbeing research not only as a practice of scholarship, but also one of activism and change. These struggles are always already emotionally charged and remind us of how one’s personal wellbeing may be a consequence of wider socio-political inequalities. By collapsing the distinction between ontology and epistemology, we may open up non-dualistic ways to explore more diverse approaches towards wellbeing that can help create more hopeful and inclusive futures.

CONCLUSIONS: CLOSING THE TOOLBOX In this chapter I have argued that a new set of tools is needed that can challenge the ‘master’s tools’, tools that are designed to sustain the kind of practices that

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keep power and privilege in the hands of the masters, leaving out less proximate bodies and voices. These six tools come together to: (i)

acknowledge that any finding is by definition incomplete and deeply situated in a specific body (body of flesh, body of knowledge, institutional body); (ii) expose and chip away at the walls that marginalised and disenfranchised knowers bump up against by questioning and widening citational practices to add deeper intra-action between disciplines; (iii) breaking up citational practices by assembling different bodies; (iv) giving up fantasies of interdisciplinary mutuality and wilfully subjugating; (v) insist that truthfulness matters; and (vi) collapse the distinction between ontology and epistemology and bring about change by way of knowing and enacting alternatives. Naturally, some of these tools are made from the same cloth and overlap, while others stand strongly on their own. Some tools are an invitation for personal reflection whereas others demand collective action. Together, they bring a cohesive epistemological framework for all of those interested in exposing and addressing the underlying structural inequalities that support the master’s house thereby perpetuating wellbeing inequalities. This chapter has laid out a framework for queering wellbeing research that brought together different feminist epistemologies and philosophies of sciences. In contrast to other critical approaches, a feminist standpoint focuses on affect and body; where the personal becomes inseparable from the political. Any type of knowledge production, inevitably, produces an architecture that by virtue of being politically structural, favours some forms of life over others. Such an architecture can, under a hegemonic order, actively disadvantage the lives of precarious communities, who typically struggle more than others with mental health and wellbeing issues (Wilkinson and Pickett, 2010). To challenge and change these wellbeing inequalities, we also need to challenge and change how we come to know wellbeing, and create more inclusive, collaborative and strategic ways to create structures of knowledge production that redistribute power and voice in a way that helps to shape more caring forms of knowledge. A type of knowledge that enacts change by way of representing alternative ways of survival and growth, and can challenge untruthful or power-perpetuating narratives of what a good life should look like. As such, the toolbox is a not just a valuable resource for feminists, but also other critical, post-colonial, post-structuralist and participatory wellbeing researchers, scholars or students, who have the ability, and thus the responsibility, to address

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wellbeing inequalities; attuning to and caring for their own and other’s bodily dispositions and subjectivities.

NOTES 1.

Audre Lorde’s cancer journals or Sara Ahmed’s ongoing blog feministkilljoy.com are both good examples of how two academics choose to write about their personal struggle and ways towards wellbeing in non-traditional academic formats. 2. The NHS is the UK’s National Health Service that has undergone a lot of recent cuts, hitting people living in precarious conditions the hardest (Eley et al., 2013). 3. The New Economic Foundation (NEF) 5 ways to wellbeing is a policy framework that focuses on connecting, being active, taking notice, giving and learning (Aked et al., 2008).

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4. A Marxian approach to wellbeing: human nature and use value David Watson INTRODUCTION …there exists in Marx a consistent conviction that the ends of social life are to produce a common happiness, a concrete form of freedom, and an emphasis on personal development and self-realization as opposed to human degradation and debasement. (Thompson, 2015, p. 1)

This chapter focuses on elucidating an account of Marxian wellbeing based primarily on Marx’s account of human nature and alienation in the Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844 (henceforth, EPM). Marx is not generally regarded as an ethical or moral thinker, and although he does not provide us with a clear ethical framework in the manner that someone like Rawls or Kant1 does, there is a clear moral current that runs through his work (Ollman, 1976). Marx’s writings are underpinned by the view that capitalism violates human beings’ opportunities to realize a way of life that is in line with their human nature, and therefore what constitutes flourishing, a good life, or enables wellbeing (Leopold, 2007). This understanding of Marx is not uncontroversial and significant debate about the moral current in Marx’s work has been ongoing (Musto, 2015). Thompson (2015) argues that normative justification for Marxian critique was considered unnecessary when structural conditions and a growing proletariat swelled the socialist and communist parties and threatened to bring down capitalism. The rediscovery of Marx’s concept of human nature, or species being, as a lens for understanding and addressing the current realties of society is no coincidence (Dyer-Witheford, 2004; Thompson, 2015). Whilst the capitalist economic system continues to expand, despite cyclical crises and confounding any expectation of collapse expected by Marxian structural analysis, society is experiencing what might be characterized as an emerging crisis of wellbeing. Marx’s concepts of species being and alienation go to the very heart of understanding this crisis and can provide the basis for a notion of Marxian wellbeing that can address it. 51

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Before elaborating on Marx’s account, it is necessary to situate it within the current discourse of wellbeing and underline its relevance in making a contribution to this. I therefore begin this chapter by considering how capitalism has colonized the concept of wellbeing in order to realize profit; I argue for attention to the way in which we define wellbeing and the need to develop critical approaches. In response to this need, I explore Marx’s early writings to develop a Marxian approach to wellbeing, drawing on his concept of alienation as a moral critique of capitalism and the notion of human nature this entails, which capitalism is said to alienate us from. Taking human nature as a starting point for a critical conception of wellbeing I turn to ‘use value’ to expand this account of wellbeing linking it to human needs and capabilities approaches to wellbeing. Finally, I consider some limitations and implications of this Marxian approach to wellbeing. Whilst this approach and its application is likely to resonate strongly with understanding so-called capitalist societies, the aim is also to set out an approach that has much wider application. Indeed in the final sections of this chapter I argue that if we are to develop this Marxian approach to wellbeing in theoretical, practical and political terms then it is to the elements of life that are not subjected to the logic of capital we must turn, which are to be found in all societies.

WELLBEING AND CAPITALISM In some regards the resurgent interest in wellbeing can be seen as a positive signal that the failures of capitalism are being taken more seriously (White and Blackmore, 2015, p. 4). The often cited Easterlin paradox (1974; Easterlin and Angelescu, 2009) is a key reference point for the rejuvenated discourse around wellbeing. This paradox identifies a gap between Gross Domestic Product (GDP) and measures of subjective wellbeing, questioning the assumption that wealth creates happiness. There is a substantial body of work disputing the positive association between wealth and wellbeing (Pretty et al., 2015; Daly, 2013; Skidelsky and Skidelsky, 2012; Galbraith, 1958) and although Easterlin’s claims have been challenged (Stevenson and Wolfers, 2008; Büchs and Koch, 2019) it is clear that GDP growth cannot be straightforwardly assumed to improve wellbeing. As economic indicators alone have been seen as insufficient measures of human progress, a range of indicators have emerged that seek to capture progress by measuring wellbeing, such as the Human Development Index (Alkire and Santos, 2009), Bhutan’s Gross National Happiness index (Ura et al., 2012) and more widespread national attempts to measure wellbeing (Alkire, 2015; Forgeard et al., 2011; see also Grimes, Chapter 17 this volume), yet GDP remains a key measure. It should be noted that increases in material wealth do produce objective changes likely to enhance wellbeing, such as improved life expectancy, but such benefits are

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more markedly experienced in less affluent contexts (Inglehart et al., 2008). The pursuit of GDP in developed economies becomes a ‘zero sum game’, in part because increased material consumption can have negative consequences (Pretty et al., 2015; Soper, 2007). The single-minded pursuit of economic growth at the expense of other priorities is unlikely to produce a development trajectory that maximizes wellbeing, particularly in contexts where GDP is at a level that supports basic consumption needs for food, health, and shelter. The questioning of GDP has caused some economists to move away from the traditional focus on income and return to the principles of utilitarianism in evaluating happiness or subjective wellbeing (Layard, 2006, 2009; see also Frey, 2008). This psychological perspective, which prioritizes subjective wellbeing, has come to dominate the current discourse of wellbeing (Atkinson, 2013). Notwithstanding, methodological issues associated with psychological and social adaptation processes in the measurement of subjective wellbeing, this approach can also accommodate the logic of capitalism rather than challenge it (Büchs and Koch, 2019; Stewart, 2014). Underpinning utilitarian approaches is a view of human beings as homo economicus, a rational self-maximizing actor, able to self-interestedly pursue utilities. The notion of subjective wellbeing also ‘fits well with the individualist ideologies of late capitalism and their faith in the pursuit of happiness through choice in consumption’ (White and Blackmore, 2015, p. 5; see also Ehrenreich, 2010; Soper, 2008). The wellbeing industry has seen rampant growth recently (Cederström and Spicer, 2015; Davies, 2015) in parallel with growing health crises, including rises in various mental illnesses, malnutrition and obesity, some of which can be directly linked to neoliberal policies of market fundamentalism and austerity (Schrecker and Bambra, 2015; Wahlbeck and McDaid, 2012). In the context of work, wellbeing is becoming an increasingly important issue for organizations, although typically it is conceived of as a vital factor of production, to be managed through employee wellness programmes (Maravelias, 2011). Increased attention to ensuring workers are happy and satisfied has been largely driven by the costs of sickness, both in terms of absence from work and lost productivity through phenomena like ‘presenteeism’ (that is the phenomenon of employees attending work whilst ill) (Findlay and Thompson, 2017, p. 126), which has been associated with a loss in productivity and decreased organizational performance (Johns, 2010; see also Schultz and Edington, 2007; Lohaus and Habermann, 2019). Calls for greater attention to employee wellbeing are usually accompanied and justified by the latest statistics on the costs of work-related stress and illness (Harvey, 2019). Yet, there is little attention to how the current organization of work produces this ill being in the first place (Fleming, 2015). Performance and productivity remain the key concern, despite increased focus on employee wellbeing (Guest, 2017).

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Even vehement critics of the rising discourse of happiness and wellbeing recognize that the shift from measures of income as a proxy for human development to measures of wellbeing constitutes progress (see Ehrenreich, 2010, p. 2 for example). However, careful thought needs to be given to the way in which wellbeing is defined and understood, both in theoretical and practical terms, as well as the purpose it serves in particular contexts (see Zielke, Chapter 3 this volume for a feminist perspective). Attempts to address different forms of ill being caused by the configuration of the economy can easily be turned around to offer new opportunities to expand the economy. This possibility is explored by Purser in his conceptualization of McMindfulness (2019), where he explores the capitalist capture of mindfulness and creation of an industry that highlights personal responsibility and occludes social determinants of wellbeing whilst turning a profit. Resilience and the maintenance of personal wellbeing become all the more important as traditional working patterns are replaced by precarious and highly flexible forms of work and individuals must become ‘achievement subjects’ (Han, 2015) capable of maintaining themselves as enterprises of the self. When viewed from a critical perspective the rising political and practical interest in wellbeing can be seen as not just failing to redress the economic model that has created a wellbeing crisis, but actively maintaining it by producing subjects fit for work. However, it would be an oversimplification to characterize the wellbeing discourse as hegemonic; time and resources dedicated to wellbeing do not necessarily or universally maintain and deepen capitalism (McGillivray, 2005). There are those arguing for a radical programme of degrowth, that would tackle capitalism head on, who believe a reduction of economic growth can be accompanied by an increase in wellbeing (Lang and Marsden, 2017; Weiss and Cataneo, 2017; Andreoni, and Galmarini, 2014; Bilancini and D’Alessandro, 2012; Nierling, 2012). Therefore, much hinges on our approach to wellbeing and related concepts that underpin this. Marx’s views on human nature have particular relevance because of the way in which capitalism has turned society towards the furthering of accumulation. These views can provide the basis of a Marxian approach to wellbeing and thereby address capitalism’s tendency to absorb elements of critique as it transforms itself (Boltanski and Chiapello, 2007).

HUMAN NATURE AND ALIENATION: LABOUR, SOCIETY, CONSCIOUSNESS AND FREEDOM For Marx, the way in which capitalism structures production and consumption is antithetical to the pursuit of wellbeing. This moral critique of capitalism is captured by the concept of alienation, most clearly expressed in the EPM. In order to understand the normative force of the concept of alienation (Byron, 2013) it is essential to first understand Marx’s account of human nature since

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it is alienation from human nature wrought by capitalism that Marx considered to be so damaging: ‘[Capitalist] Production does not simply produce man as a commodity, the human commodity, man in the role of commodity; it produces him in keeping with this role as a mentally and physically dehumanized being. – Immorality, deformity, and dulling of the workers and the capitalists’ (Marx, [1932] 1959, p. 36). The Marxian system and his account of human nature is based on a historical understanding of social reality (Mészáros, 1970). Yet Marx also advocates an essence of human nature or species being that is trans-historical, it is this dimension of the EPM that has separated humanist Marxists from structural or scientific Marxists to use Althusser’s ([1965] 1969) terminology. For Althusser, the idea of a trans-historical basis to Marxian analysis was unscientific and idealistic with ‘no theoretical value’ (Althusser, [1965] 1969, p. 247). However, Marx argues at length against an idealist philosophy and is strongly critical of Hegel for this very reason (Fromm, 2004, pp.  8‒11). Instead he attempts to synthesize idealist and materialist positions in what Wartenberg (1982) describes as a genuine theoretical innovation. What distinguishes Marx’s approach from Hegel is that he begins from the observed social and material reality to posit an essential human nature. Beginning in material reality, Marx sees humans as essentially and inescapably natural beings, from this status follow needs, and therefore powers – for the gratification of needs (Mészáros, 1970, pp. 166‒169). This character does not distinguish human beings from other natural beings but raises the question of what particular needs and powers define human nature. The answer, according to Marx, can be found in human history, which originates when humans begin to satisfy their needs by producing the means of their subsistence (Mészáros, 1970; Fromm, 2004). The ability to consciously transform nature into tools and means by which to satisfy essential needs, such as hunger and shelter, but also the ability to create means with which to satisfy new, socially developed needs, distinguishes essential human nature: ‘The nature which develops in human history – the genesis of human society – is man’s real nature; hence nature as it develops through industry, even though in an estranged form, is true anthropological nature’ (Marx, [1932] 1959, p. 47 [emphasis added]). Therefore, real human nature can be discerned from the history of human activity in establishing the means of production or industry, even when these develop in an estranged, alienated form, as Marx observes in the quote above. This understanding of human nature as defined by the deployment of our productive capabilities in ‘conscious life activity’ or labour is what might be considered the trans-historical or universal character of human nature (Ollman, 1976). However, as we can see, this theoretical understanding is grounded in the real development of human history, so this is in reality a synthesis of a historical and essentialist views of human nature with labour at the heart of it.

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The ability of humans to produce their own means of subsistence in a conscious way distinguishes them from animals, but the inherently social way in which humans produce is also a key part of human nature for Marx: Conscious life activity distinguishes man immediately from animal life activity. It is just because of this that he is a species-being. Or it is only because he is a species-being that he is a conscious being, i.e., that his own life is an object for him. Only because of that is his activity free activity (…) But an animal only produces what it immediately needs for itself or its young. It produces one-sidedly, whilst man produces universally. (Marx, [1932] 1959, pp. 31‒32)

The universal way in which humans produce, and the consciousness that defines it, is possible because humans are inherently social (Marx, [1932] 1959, pp. 44‒45). Communication, language, shared norms and values make possible the complex organization of productive capabilities that is apparent in society, the tools of production are social products. Whilst capitalism has the tendency to make social relations abstract and seemingly individualize experiences of consumption and production, this apparent individualism can only take place within the framework of society, as human beings are social animals (Fetscher, 1973). Therefore, we have a view of human nature as inherently social, continuous with extra-human nature and defined by the expression of conscious life activity to meet human need. One final aspect bound up with the notion of consciously chosen life activity as humanity’s essence is freedom, it is the conscious nature of life activity that creates this freedom. The ability to produce one’s own means of subsistence is contrasted with an animalistic nature, whereby needs must be met in a much more direct sense and are driven by necessity. In contrast Marx considers that humans only ‘truly produce’ when free from physical need. The essence of human nature outlined by Marx in the EPM is ruptured by the organization of production in capitalism, although paradoxically it is only human beings’ consciousness that makes capitalism possible: ‘Estranged labor reverses the relationship, so that it is just because man is a conscious being that he makes his life activity, his essential being, a mere means to his existence’ (Marx, [1932] 1959, p. 31). Marx’s conception of human nature gives rise to the alienation described in the EPM and brought about by the abstract relations of wage labour typified in capitalism. Under waged labour, the products of conscious life activity are produced to be sold by capitalist enterprise and this labour is controlled by an external or alien force, not the individual. Consequently, the activity of labour is described as the ‘activity of alienation’, but it is the alienation of species being wrought by alienated labour that gives alienation its normative force. The individualization that comes with waged labour and consumption of products bought with those wages, estranges the social nature of human beings, according to Marx. Since this follows from the alienation of species

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being and the alienation of labour product and process are constitutive of the estrangement of species being, it is clear that the central basis for any ethical critique rests with his idea of human nature/species being.

MARX, HUMAN NEED AND USE VALUE The extent to which Marx carried his ideas on human nature and alienation into his later work has been debated extensively. Whilst I take the view that what Marx expresses in the EPM is consistent with later work, I do not wish to speak to this debate here since the central question that concerns me is the relevance of this view of human nature for developing a Marxian approach to wellbeing. The account of human nature I have sketched out is drawn from an understanding of human needs and how these are met in a very general sense. The needs described in the EPM can be separated into physical and social needs (Leopold, 2007, p. 229). Leopold (2007) attempts to build up a picture of Marxian wellbeing from the information contained predominantly in the EPM, although acknowledges that Marx did not himself set out a prescriptive account of wellbeing. Whilst there is arguably merit in such an endeavour, this is not the route to a Marxian account of wellbeing that I propose. Rather it is more helpful I think to turn to the concept of use value and connect this with the central elements of human nature Marx considered to be frustrated by capitalism. Leopold (2007) identifies community and fulfilling work as the two most central social needs discussed in the EPM, however whilst they may be social in nature they cannot be described as social needs. The social aspect of human nature and the ability to engage in free conscious life activity, Marx considers alienated by capital, cannot be described as social needs, since this implies needs that have been developed rather than essential elements of human nature. Whilst Leopold and others (see Ollman, 1976; Mészáros, 1970; Fetscher, 1973) admit that Marx argued human nature was both mutable and constant, the question of how these different aspects separate is key. As already noted, Marx has a historicized understanding of human nature, but this does not mean he has a deterministic view of how society will develop (Mészáros, 1970, p. 118). Rather this view is open to how those needs essential to human nature are defined and met, as well as how further, socially determined needs are defined and met. Whilst the concept of use value does not appear very explicitly in the EPM, the relationship of use value to human nature and wellbeing can also be seen in Marx’s later works and is helpful in thinking about how to build from Marx’s concept of human nature. For Marx, productive life activity defines the character of humanity, this activity produces use values – that is articles, actions, services and experiences that are capable of meeting a human need. In capitalism, use value, becomes

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dominated by the need to produce exchange value through the production of commodities (Marx, [1867] 1977). The creation of use value is an inescapable condition of existence that characterizes human society and development (Byron, 2016, p. 383). How humanity organizes life activity to meet its needs through the production of use values determines the nature of society. The creation of exchange value is socially constructed and imposed (Mészáros, 1970, pp.  89‒90) and it is the production of use value as a consequence of exchange value that typifies capitalism. Whilst capitalism produces many use values it does not prioritize them as the goal of production, therefore it does not prioritize wellbeing. The overarching logic of capital is to continually produce and grow capital value (Chambers, 2018), and the key mechanism by which this is achieved is through the exploitation of labour in the production of commodities. The worker is paid for their labour, but the capitalist pays them less than they will receive themselves in exchange value for the commodity produced. This is the fundamental analysis that Marx offers in his critique of capitalism, this is how surplus value – profit – can be realized by the capitalist and the worker gets exploited (Marx, [1867] 1977). Of course, Marx’s analysis explains this in much more depth, and goes on to present a range of implications. One implication is that the appropriation of use value in the commodity form engenders the creation of desires and artificial needs in order to realize a profit (Marcuse, 2013; Böhm and Batta, 2010). We can see this process in action in a range of services and products, including those that are marketed by appealing to our desire to be fit and well (Smith Maguire, 2008). A further consequence of prioritizing surplus value is that if it is possible to create surplus value without producing use values then this is not problematic for capitalism. Therefore, you have the possibility of profit through ‘unproductive labour’, although within capitalism this labour would be considered ‘productive’ because it produces surplus value (Gough, 1972). Whilst I have suggested that the account of human nature expressed in EPM is consistent with Marx’s later work, certainly it is not centre stage in his analysis of capitalism. Under a conventional reading, the subordination of use value to exchange/surplus value and its resolution appears as class war between the working class and the capitalists. When the production of use value is taken to define the character of a society and that society produces use value in a manner that is not in line with human nature you have a much more damning and moral critique of capitalism. If we return to the idea of needs, one can argue that the creation of social needs that is bound up with humans’ essential species characteristics is completely warped under capitalism. An economic (and therefore social) system has been established to satisfy human needs by producing use values, but only as a secondary consequence of producing another value – this is the abstractness or alienation Marx refers to: ‘Estranged labor reverses the relationship, so

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that it is just because man is a conscious being that he makes his life activity, his essential being, a mere means to his existence’ (Marx, [1932] 1959, p. 31). Engaging in work for wages enables us to purchase use values to meet our needs rather than engaging in work that directly produces the use values we need, therefore productive life activity becomes a means rather than an end in itself. Marx’s idea of alienation or estrangement and conception of human nature are central to a moral critique of capitalism, but how do we move past this to an account of wellbeing? At the core of a Marxian perspective on wellbeing must be the trans-historical account of human nature that is based on the real material history of human society. However, this essential dimension alone constitutes a rather narrow account of wellbeing, the non-essential or socially determined elements rest in my view on the concept of use-value. What are the free and conscious life activities that human beings can or do engage in to produce use value? In species being you have the basis for an open-ended approach to wellbeing that is focused on meeting human need (Dyer-Witheford, 2004), but sets no limit on what those needs might be, only the manner in which they are realized.

USE VALUE AS A STARTING POINT: IMPLICATIONS AND LIMITATIONS OF MARXIAN WELLBEING There are of course certain essential use values that must be produced by society in order to meet the essential physical needs of human beings, the provision of adequate food for example. Such basic needs do not distinguish humans from animals, who must also drink and eat, but in capitalism it is only in meeting these needs that workers feel themselves free because they have some agency over how they are met. ‘What is animal becomes human and what is human becomes animal’ (Marx, [1932] 1959, p. 30). Wage labour on the other hand becomes animal because the worker is compelled to do it in the way an animal is compelled to find food and therefore produces one-sidedly, being defined as a worker not a full human being. This discussion in the EPM clearly underlines how the way in which needs are met is as important as the needs being met. The account Marx provides enables us to see the way human needs are being met in capitalism is in opposition to human nature, but offers little by way of imagining a post-capitalist future whereby the satisfaction of human needs is in line with human nature. Use-value can form the basis for understanding the dynamic element of what expresses human nature and wellbeing, but the trans-historical element must be retained because it sets out how to produce or meet needs in a way that does not conflict with human nature. The Marxian approach to wellbeing shares something with other needs-based approaches and capabilities approaches, all of them drawing on the Aristotelian notion of human goods (Büchs and Koch, 2019; Koch et al., 2017; Nussbaum,

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2011). At their core is a notion of humanity and from this proceeds an argument for the satisfaction of human goods or needs. For example, Doyal and Gough’s (1991) hierarchical theory of human need is founded on the universal good of ‘successful social participation’ – which they describe as an essential feature of human nature (Gough, 2003, p. 8). One can see a parallel here with the inherently social conception of labour and humanity that Marx has. Doyal and Gough (1991) then outline a hierarchy of needs that follow from their universal good. Whilst this kind of approach allows for some diversity in how particular needs can be met, it can also be described as a somewhat parsimonious approach. Likewise, Nussbaum’s list of central human capabilities has been criticized for lacking theoretical justification and being too narrow (Gough, 2003). The limitations of list type approaches to wellbeing might also be seen to apply to Marx’s account of human nature – even if we take Leopold’s (2007) quite generous interpretation this still looks a fairly limited account. However, these limitations can be avoided if use value is utilized to extend a Marxian account of wellbeing beyond the essential features of human nature. Such an approach has more in common with the open conception of capabilities approach to wellbeing, as defined by Amartya Sen in contrast to Nussbaum’s narrow list: ‘The capability of a person reflects the alternative combinations of functionings the person can achieve, and from which he or she can choose one collection’ (Sen, 2008, p. 271; see also Sen, 1985). Sen’s expansive capabilities approach does not induce problems of over-specificity, but has instead been criticized for being underspecified, and vague (Nussbaum, 2003; Gasper and Van Staveren, 2003). Freedom and agency are central to Sen’s approach as they are in Marx. The strength of a Marxian approach in comparison is the historicized basis for understanding human nature and its grounding in a critical understanding of the current configuration of the socio-economic reality. This understanding also gives the basis by which use values should be determined, as Dyer-Witheford puts it ‘Species-being is thus not a given set of attributes but a socially constitutive power, a mobile and self-augmenting potentiality’ (2004, p. 6). The key question then for a Marxian approach to wellbeing is, what use values should society be creating and what are the institutional forms that can create them to realize human nature. The answer to this question is not to be found in theory or Marx’s writings, but the empirical reality of the world. A significant proportion of production, consumption and exchange is non-marketized and non-commodified (Fraser, 2014), that is to say does not produce surplus value, this applies within both so-called capitalist and non-capitalist economies. Capital cannot therefore be regarded as hegemonic creating capitalist economies or societies, but is better conceived as a logic that exerts variable influence in different domains or contexts (Chambers, 2018, p. 56). For Gibson-Graham (2006, 2008), non-capitalist elements are impor-

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tant aspects of a diverse or hybrid economy, but, as Fraser highlights, they also constitute the ‘conditions of possibility’ for capitalism. The activities of social reproduction – forms of provisioning and interactions that produce and maintain social bonds (Fraser, 2014, p. 61) – are vital in creating and maintaining the workforce that capital will employ to produce value. From a wellbeing perspective, these social practices offer a temporal escape from capitalism, but also a potential basis for bottom-up change (Boonstra and Joosse, 2013). As Marx notes, it is outside conditions of wage labour that humans produce most freely and humanly. Therefore, we can look to those spheres of life where human beings are relatively free from the logic of capital to understand the what and how of use value which might make up a fuller Marxian account of wellbeing. Although, it would be misguided to think that such practices can occur unperturbed by the influence of capitalism, recognizing these practices as producing wellbeing from a Marxian perspective can mitigate their appropriation by capital. Only by recognizing those practices that create use value in accordance with human nature and separating them as independent from the drive for surplus value can we build on and extend these practices and enhance wellbeing. Seeing these practices only as alternatives engenders capital-o-centric thinking, not accounting for the diversity and hybridity of practices (Gibson-Graham, 2006, 2008). Practices that are consistent with a Marxian account of wellbeing are not limited to the sphere of social reproduction, scholars of alternatives have highlighted a range of new and traditional organizational models that run counter to the logic of capital and produce multiple use values (Zanoni et al., 2017; Parker et al., 2014; Cheney et al., 2014). These alternatives can act as places of new identity formation counteracting the individualization entailed by capitalist consumption and organization of work (Reedy et al., 2016). Once we start looking for those practices that create use value in accordance with human nature and thereby realize wellbeing, we see that capitalism is not necessarily such a dominant force as it is considered to be. The current juncture during which this chapter has been written affords a particularly penetrating lens with which to consider the questions raised by a Marxian account of wellbeing. The coronavirus pandemic that has swept across the globe since the beginning of 2020 placed many economies into stand-still and constituted a ‘holiday for exchange value’ bringing use value to the fore (Davies, 2020). The enforced closure of large parts of the economy that realize exchange value has served to refocus attention on the creation of use value – those things which realize human need. Those elements of the economy that have remained open have tended to be those which most clearly produce essential use values, such as food retail and caring services. Moreover, those people engaged in work creating these use values have been reclassified

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as essential workers and applauded (quite literally) rather than considered low skilled or menial (Lancet, 2020; Siegmann, 2020). A Marxian approach to wellbeing implies a politicization and democratization of wellbeing, because it asks the question of what use values we should prioritize and how should those be realized. A debate, which is now currently raging as politicians and social commentators consider how society should be built back better following the coronavirus pandemic (Krebel et al., 2020; United Nations, 2020; Knight 2020). There are many examples of the production of use value not driven by a logic of capital, such as social reproduction activities (Fraser, 2014), grassroots and community based initiatives (Daskalaki et al., 2019; Watson, 2020), co-operatives (Cheney et al., 2014) and so on. As I have acknowledged these activities are not entirely removed from the logic of capital, but they are not guided by them. In reflecting on how we can move from these examples to a society more clearly underpinned by a notion of wellbeing, a Marxian approach can help distinguish those features we wish to retain and develop.

CONCLUSION The view that ‘there is no alternative’ is a refrain repeatedly thrown back at those who seek to critique and resist capitalism (Parker et al., 2014, p. 18). It is a ‘definitional impossibility’ to resist capitalism by attempting to value its structures or effects differently since ‘capitalism does not offer a choice of value-systems; it produces and imposes its own’ (Chambers, 2018, p. 143). Therefore, opposition can only be meaningful through undoing and remaking capitalism and this entails the production of values and a corresponding institutional framework that is non-capitalist. It is impossible to ignore the normative question implied. An approach to wellbeing is needed that in theory and practice can produce values which support human and therefore extra-human nature, which it is continuous with (Marx, [1932] 1959). Yet this approach also needs to be fully cognizant of the way in which current socio-economic forces produce ill being. Such an approach should not overlook the interweaving of capitalist and non-capitalist value production, nor should it be forgotten that capitalism produces an array of use values that support wellbeing. However, a Marxian approach to wellbeing recognizes that capitalism is not guided by the logic of maximizing wellbeing and is constituted in such a way as to systematically limit and erode wellbeing, addressing this should be of central concern in theory and practice.

NOTE 1. Rawls’ theory of ‘justice as fairness’ seeks to establish a moral framework for society balancing equality and freedom. Two fundamental principles are key to

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this framework: First, that every person has access to basic liberties, which is compatible with access for all; and second, that any inequalities in society must be attached to positions that are open to all and arranged to the benefit of the least advantaged (Rawls, 1971). For further explanation and discussion of Rawls see Rawls (2001), Richardson (2011) and Wenar (2017), for example. Kant makes a number of contributions to moral philosophy, although probably most prominent is his ‘Categorical imperative’ which establishes a rational basis for morality through central maxims: Universality of action, act only in a manner that all others are capable of acting; the treatment of others as ends as well as means; and expectation of universal agreement and acceptability. Only when it conforms to these maxims can it be deemed morally correct and rational and therefore a duty (Kant [1785] 1964; Aune, 1979). His work is considered central in the branch of moral philosophy known as duty or deontological (from the Greek for duty) ethics (see Alexander and Moore, 2016, for an introduction and review).

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5. Developing qualitative, biographical research into happiness and wellbeing: a sociological perspective Mark Cieslik INTRODUCTION Recent decades have seen the emergence of a happiness industry and a popular culture saturated with discussion of wellbeing, flourishing and self-development. Academic research emerged amongst philosophers, economists and psychologists (Layard, 2005; McMahon, 2006) and recently from other disciplines (Mathews, 2010; Searle, 2008; Pykett and Cromby, 2017; White, 2017). In my own field of sociology, wellbeing has been studied in relation to emotions (Holmes and McKenzie, 2019), young people (Pople et al., 2015), and migration (Hendriks and Bartram, 2019; Hendriks, Chapter 15 this volume) among other issues. Much sociological scholarship uses large-scale (cross-sectional and longitudinal) survey techniques generating insights into how factors like income, education, gender, age and marital status are correlated with aspects of wellbeing such as life satisfaction. Another strand of sociological scholarship analyses wellbeing/happiness as a problematic feature of individualised, consumer capitalism (Marcuse, 2002; Furedi, 2004). These critiques suggest corporations deploy wellbeing concepts in their pursuit of profits, creating alienated social identities in western societies (Illouz, 2008; Cabanas and Illouz, 2019; Davies, 2015). Whilst I have engaged in a lengthy critique of these other approaches to happiness/wellbeing (Cieslik, 2015, 2017), the focus of this chapter is to illustrate the contribution that qualitative and biographical research can make to this field of study. Existing scholarship has helped our understanding of the elastic nature and functioning of wellbeing/happiness but there is a need to study the everyday experiences of wellbeing and how they emerge from social relationships across the life course. My research grew out of a dialogue with earlier studies developing a focus on three broad dimensions: everyday meanings and subjective experiences; relational and collaborative features; and the 68

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biographies of wellbeing, illustrating processes of structure/agency (Cieslik, 2017). First, commentators (Thin, 2012; Mathews and Izquierdo, 2010) note the inherently complex subjective nature of wellbeing and the difficulties quantitative research has conceptualising and measuring such a subjective phenomenon (see also Zeilke, Chapter 3 this volume). As a qualitative researcher it seemed apparent that the shifting, contested meanings around wellbeing could be well captured through life history or narrative research. As Searle discusses (2008, pp. 2‒4) people are creative in adapting to their surroundings but such processes are often seen as problematic by survey researchers, accounts neglect how wellbeing emerges through family, work and friendship networks and their collective rituals, practices and traditions. Wellbeing researchers have grappled with the challenge presented by these social relationships as witnessed in debates around social comparison (Layard, 2005, p. 43) and social inequality (Wilkinson and Pickett, 2009). Third, I wanted to explore how power relationships and struggle/conflict are features of living well. More empirically focused survey research sometimes neglects these issues (see for example Blanchflower and Oswald, 2004), while critiques of the happiness industry (see Cabanaz and Illouz, 2019 for example) focus more on the way that power flows through happiness/wellbeing discourses than the empirical diversity and creativity of citizen’s lives. In contrast I focus both on subjective experiences and broader power relationships through a sensitivity to structure and agency, which is central to sociological research (Mills, 1959). This allows me to analyse how people are conditioned by social forces creating identities and patterns of inequality and divisions. As people age they mobilise resources, working with others to manage the effects of social forces on their lives hence I explore wellbeing evolving across the biographies of interviewees, reflecting this interplay of structuring and agency, creating distinct temporal patterns of good/not so good wellbeing – the ‘ebb and flow’ of happiness. My interest in happiness/wellbeing arose in 2005‒2006 as I approached my 40th birthday – friends were struggling with young children, long hours at work, strained personal relationships and demands of elderly parents. There were disappointments and many emotions around how to balance careers with responsibilities for others. How does one learn from past mistakes and make better choices about how to live well? I assumed sociologists would have researched these dilemmas yet mainstream sociology is more concerned with social problems (like poverty and unemployment) than living well. Even key figures in happiness studies at the time like Ruut Veenhoven (1984) and Richard Layard (2005) were concerned with mostly quantitative research and numerical data that seemed abstract and far removed from the everyday struggles of living well. Survey findings are a good starting point for research, to frame empirical questions but I also wanted to document the experiences, emotions and the voices of people going through the challenges of life and

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their efforts to live well with others. How do people actually experience some of these factors discussed in survey research – family life, affluence and low income – and what is their influence on wellbeing? As the survey research discussed by Layard and Veenhoven helped me formulate some empirical questions for a qualitative project, so too did the more polemical work of writers such as Christopher Lasch (1979), and Frank Furedi (2004). I was keen to examine their claims that western societies were increasingly narcissistic; ordinary people were more aware of wellbeing, fixating on personal happiness and fulfilment. Are ordinary people now using psychological terms (such as flourishing, self-worth, self-actualisation) to understand their lives and are they more willing to consume new products and services that promise happier ways of living? Are these therapeutic or wellbeing discourses displacing earlier principles for living such as the Protestant Work Ethic or other religious, political and spiritual ideas that traditionally provided ethical frameworks that guided people in their daily lives? To explore these questions, I illustrate how small-scale qualitative research can discern the interpretations and meanings around happiness as they emerge across biographies and everyday relationships, revealing wellbeing as a socially situated and biographical phenomena. It is this social and biographical ‘embeddedness’ that distinguishes qualitative/biographical research from other survey approaches and critics of the happiness industry. Although my research has drawn on many disciplinary influences it is primarily sociological in exploring respondent’s biographies and networks structured by class and gender relations documenting how individuals managed such social forces as they struggled to get on in life. The chapter first details my definition of happiness/wellbeing as a practical, collaborative process. I also discuss the theoretical framework and methodology that I employed using Bourdieu’s (1977) concept of habitus to model social background effects, concepts from Archer (1988) and Sayer (2010) around agency/reflexivity and from Goffman/ Hochschild on emotions and impression management. I use two empirical case studies of young women to highlight how class and gender relations influence wellbeing – how different resources and opportunities frame the good and not so good experiences people have growing up. I document how the young women creatively managed some of these classed and gendered constraints and the effect of agency on their wellbeing – leading to an ‘ebb and flow’ patterning of wellbeing across their biographies.

QUALITATIVE/BIOGRAPHICAL RESEARCH AND DEFINITIONS OF HAPPINESS/WELLBEING I developed a definition of happiness/wellbeing drawing on this earlier scholarship complemented with other features to reflect a subjectively complex and

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processual understanding of happiness/wellbeing suited to biographical, qualitative research. I drew on classical writings around Hedonia and Eudaimonia (Aristotle, 2009) to acknowledge fleeting experiential dimensions (the subjective and the emotional) as well as more enduring (the embodied, meaningful and biographical) that conceptualise happiness as an everyday practical activity. Classical writers debated the sources of good wellbeing like friendships, luck, health, love, family, work and money which points us to a relational definition of wellbeing – or ‘social happiness’ (Thin, 2012). The Greeks saw happiness as rooted in the quality of relationships through life – happiness or living well embedded in social networks and the meaningful life this supports. Positive psychologists have usefully developed these ideas (Argyle, 2001) suggesting that wellbeing has two subjective dimensions (a balancing of affect or positive/negative emotions and also the reflective/imaginative processes of cognition) as well as an objective/structural dimension such as employment, family, neighbourhood, housing, leisure and so on. In my study conducted between 2010 and 2014 in North East England and South Wales, respondents completed survey questions on life satisfaction in different life domains, general happiness level and positive/negative affect in their lives (drawn from a number of popular surveys such as Fordyce, [1986] and used in a recent study [Hoggard, 2005]). I also incorporated respondents’ understandings of happiness/wellbeing into the research design using interview data from participants on their notions of ‘being happy’, ‘contented’ or ‘living well’ and interrogating their experiences and ideas about the sources of a good life. The data suggested happiness as a ‘good balance of mood’, or feelings or emotions that were experienced subjectively, emerging through social relationships. Respondents talked about the ‘quality of jobs, housing, education and level of income’ as influential for wellbeing. As interviews progressed respondents often acknowledged the unexpected complexity of happiness – how meanings around happiness change with age and how different people held conflicting views on happiness stemming from differences in life experiences and social background.

APPROACHING WELLBEING AS HABITUS The theoretical framework was designed to investigate wellbeing emerging from everyday social experiences, evolving across biographies and structured by economic, cultural and social policy processes (Cieslik and Simpson, 2015). This framework informed the mapping of participants’ social relationships from broader macro connections (like social policy and cultural traditions) to meso processes in employment and community, to micro interactions in families and intimate relationships. This echoes other qualitative approaches in anthropology (Mathews, 2010, p. 167) that modelled wellbeing in relation

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to four key dimensions; the physical or embodied; interpersonal relationships; existential issues such as values; and the structural such as economic processes. A sociological approach to happiness is sensitive to the cultural embeddedness of wellbeing and the ways it is shaped by power relationships (see for example Holthus and Manzenreiter, 2017; Holmes and McKenzie, 2019). Anthropologists similarly show how disparate cultural traditions create surprising variations in wellbeing experiences in different societies (Manzenreiter and Holthus, 2017). I used Bourdieu’s concept of habitus to focus attention on socio-cultural backgrounds and their significance for wellbeing – how as we grow we acquire classed and gendered identities, resources and opportunities that can frame conceptions of a good life and efforts to live well (Bourdieu, 1977, p. 170). Habitus focuses on our ways of acting, feeling, thinking and being. It captures how we carry within us our history. How we bring this history into our present circumstances, and how we then make choices to act in certain ways and not others. (Maton, 2014, p. 51)

Yet a key feature of being human is our ability to reflect on our endowments and re-imagine and remake our lives. Hence I adapted Bourdieu’s concepts that are sometimes criticised for being overly deterministic (Jenkins, 1992), to emphasise the creative qualities of people. As the research progressed I realised how ‘living well’ as a social, practical activity is a multifaceted, elastic process and I needed to draw on a battery of concepts to explicate the emotional (Hochschild, 2003), performative (Goffman, 1956) and psychic dimensions (Craib, 2001) of people’s wellbeing (see Cieslik, 2017, pp. 67‒91). Respondent’s narratives indicated a wide range of emotional experiences and expressions to describe their wellbeing (sorrow, guilt, excitement, elation); how it often involved manufacturing or playing out these emotions for other people; and that the emotions attached to earlier events are internalised influencing later wellbeing. Interviewees’ talk about their wellbeing therefore suggested a complex model of the self, one that is biographical, embedded in shifting social relationships and sensitive to reflexivity/agency as people act in relation to values/ interests through cognitive processes or internal conversations (Archer,1988; Sayer, 2010). This approach helped shape interview questions, for example, when navigating key life phases (such as transitions into work, leaving home and marriage) – how do people manage the shifting notions of what happiness means and how to achieve it? As we age how do we continue to share aspirations for a fulfilling life with partners, family and friends? What trade-offs and compromises do people make trying to flourish whilst also caring for others?

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METHODS: RESEARCHING BIOGRAPHIES AND SOCIAL NETWORKS Lengthy initial interviews (of usually two to three hours duration) together with follow up interviews spanning four years (with 19 men and women of different ages, class backgrounds) allowed me a deep insight into participants’ life stories revealing their efforts to ‘be happy’ were woven into the everyday fabric of their lives. To capture data on social relationships and their contribution to wellbeing I carefully mapped (on rolls of paper) social networks and collaborative activities across different domains (such as intimacy, employment, leisure and friends). I also created maps of biographical routes through life from childhood into education, employment, parenthood and so on. Respondents kept diaries (usually for a few days to one week), documenting changing moods, emotions and feelings around wellbeing. Interviewees also provided images (from phones) and artefacts (CDs, clothes, posters and books) that helped tell their stories around happiness/wellbeing. The research asked questions about experiences and attitudes of life satisfaction in relation to income, housing and health, consumerist lifestyles, and issues around collective efforts to ‘work’ at living well. The interviews explored wellbeing as a practical accomplishment, loaded with meanings, framed by people’s histories and their social relationships. Many of the themes from the data analysis focus on critical moments in life, such as moving from school to work, setting up home, becoming parents and retirement from work. These illustrated how power relationships, opportunities and resources (operating through class/gender relationships) hinder or enable people’s wellbeing as they age (Cieslik, 2017).

WORKING CLASS WOMEN, WELLBEING AND TRANSITIONS TO ADULTHOOD I use two case studies to explore key questions about wellbeing illustrating some themes from my happiness research – everyday subjective experiences, the relational nature of wellbeing and structure/agency across biographies. Teresa’s Wellbeing: Class, Gender and Anxieties about Education The first respondent case study, Teresa, was 21 years of age when first interviewed in 2011, her parents held routine clerical jobs and they lived in a small house in a working class district in the North East of England. At her first interview she completed a wellbeing questionnaire that suggested she was mostly happy with her life and positive about key aspects such as main relationship,

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family, friends and employment. She had started work in a clerical job after recent temporary employment positions, was living at home with parents, had a long-term boyfriend and a circle of good friends. Through the course of the two interviews (Teresa was re-interviewed in 2012) the biographical maps we created and her narratives pointed to various peaks and troughs in her wellbeing. Her parents were keen for her to do well at school, she achieved good examination results at 16 and 18, securing a place on a teacher training course at university. The biographical timeline charted the ups and downs of her wellbeing and possible influences on these trends – the different people, relationships and events significant for her happiness. She spoke positively about her wellbeing at school feeling a sense of achievement in gaining A level qualifications and a place at university. However, after the first term at university her wellbeing dipped as she dropped out of her teaching course spending two years in casual employment whilst living at home. I always wanted to be a teacher but then like, when I spoke to my cousin’s fiancée she’s qualified to be a teacher and she still hasn’t got a job… I thought university was going to be different but it was worse. There was more pressure. At school you had the teachers… to get things finished. But then at Uni it was up to you… Didn’t want to be stuck after three years with loads of debt and no way of getting a job. (Teresa)

Drawing on Bourdieu’s concept of habitus (and Archer and Sayer on reflexivity/agency) we can interpret Teresa’s wellbeing as structured through classed and gendered processes (that were enabling and constraining) as she managed these in her efforts to live well. Her working class habitus conferred a range of resources cultural, material and social – culturally as her parents supported her studies and ambitions, materially by funding her lifestyle and socially through developing contacts with the school and other parents. But this gendered and classed socialisation was also limiting culturally as we can interpret from her choice of a teaching course at a ‘local, new university’ – research showing that many female students from working class backgrounds attend local institutions and study on traditional gendered and vocational programmes such as nursing and teaching (Sutton Trust, 2014). She therefore had relatively modest ambitions, being concerned about financial costs, ‘fitting in’ at university and the demands of academic study. Viewing this through the concept of habitus allows us to model the way that early life experiences of class inequalities are internalised, influencing identities, dispositions and everyday practice, often in problematic ways, creating hidden, psychic injuries of class (Cieslik and Simpson, 2015). For example previous studies document working class students’ sensitivities about the financial costs of higher education compared to affluent middle class students including how this can undermine the enthusiasm that working class students

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have for extended studies (Sutton Trust, 2014). Growing up with extensive economic resources can imbue affluent middle class students with confidence and self-worth – cultural capital necessary for academic success that working class students like Teresa often lack (Reay et al., 2009). The consequence for Teresa as she reflected on her situation was uncertainty and anxiety about university study which informed her decision, ‘to play safe’, drop out and find waged work. Though at some emotional cost – she was disappointed about these anxieties and angry at being unemployed again. She was upset she had let her parents down as they were so happy when she passed her examinations and attended university. I have a really good relationship (with my mum). I can talk to her about anything and we go shopping and go for drinks… I was worried about my mum being angry that I wanted to leave (university). I did think about it a lot before I told my mum to make sure it was what I wanted to do. Because she was like, ‘Well what are you going to do instead?’ And I was like, ‘I’ve already thought about it and like we talked about what I wanted to do’… my mum was like, ‘just do what you want, whatever makes you happy’. (Teresa)

We see here some of the emotional and relational complexity associated with wellbeing. We can begin to disentangle these emotions and experiences around wellbeing and identify how past events, social backgrounds and wider social relationships influence these. With Teresa she grew up with certain cultural expectations (shared and negotiated with parents) about school, examinations, university and a career and fulfilling these were associated with good wellbeing. But part of her class cultural make-up (habitus if you like) also involves a certain insecurity about her academic abilities and doubts about achieving these ambitions. We can see these contours on Teresa’s biographical timeline and the shifts from good to poorer wellbeing from school to university, reflecting some of these cultural influences. We can also recognise the three key themes I identify about wellbeing – its subjectively nuanced and social character, emerging from people’s networks and interaction involving reflection/agency as people consider their interests and actions, responding to structural constraints. In this case, the initial satisfaction Teresa felt from her educational achievements and the pleasure it brought her parents. But then on realising that university was not for her, managing this change in her life, the choices and dilemmas, illustrating how reflexivity/agency is a key part of the interpretative understanding and subjective complexities of wellbeing. Teresa was concerned that her supportive parents would be disappointed with her choices. She mulled over the trade-offs between her desire to leave university and the emotional costs for herself and her parents, planning a route into waged work that would be acceptable to all. Here is an everyday example (that many of us experience) of our personal happiness bound up with the wellbeing of

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others so we navigate our way through life choices balancing personal interests and self-care with care for others and their interests. Teresa therefore seemed far from the inward-looking, narcissistic individual documented by recent sociological accounts of happiness (Furedi, 2004; Illouz, 2008; Davies, 2015) suggesting instead a far more relational, form of ‘social happiness’ (Thin, 2012) or ‘conviviality’, ‘striving to live well together’ (Thin, 2021). Teresa’s Happiness Highs and Lows: Work, Friends and Fun yet Fragile Wellbeing Teresa’s biographical timeline went on to suggest declining wellbeing during temporary employment and then improvements as she secured a permanent clerical job – her income had increased and her parents too were happy for her. I also mapped Teresa’s social networks, the people and activities this involved and their contribution to her wellbeing. Her wellbeing was enhanced in part through her networks – time with her boyfriend, nights out with friends and good relationships with parents. Findings that echo some survey research into the factors associated with good wellbeing (Clark et al., 2015). She also found her new job interesting and she was learning new skills and meeting some new people (see Layard, 2005; Csikszentmihalyi, 2002). Her narrative reminds us of the role of sociability and shared sense of belonging for good wellbeing – how people co-produce their ‘social happiness’ (Thin, 2012) and how social resources are significant for self-worth (Pahl, 2007). Teresa’s good wellbeing here may also reflect her point in the life course, research suggesting many young people are relatively happy and ‘care free’ as waged employment and familial resources allow for independent lifestyles with few of the responsibilities of adulthood (Henderson et al., 2007; Cieslik and Simpson, 2013, pp. 85‒90). Although Teresa seemed to be embedded in nourishing social relationships her narrative also suggested a fragility to her wellbeing. During the second interview after 12 months of regular employment she spoke of a downturn in her wellbeing. The traffic is always dead bad so we leave earlier to get to work on time… getting home is a nightmare. Just being in a car in general… If I move out I’ll get a place on the bus route so I won’t need a car… Think £800 per month was like just to live on. Like rent, bills and everything and food… I just need my own space… I did talk to her (mum) about going to America. I don’t want to stay here all my life… I get really impatient… But I know that it’s not just going to happen. I know there’s nothing I can do about it to make it happen any quicker. (Teresa)

After several months in her new job it dawned on Teresa there were several downsides and ‘hidden costs’ to her new lifestyle of waged employment.

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Teresa was dismayed with her daily commute and surprised at the mismatch between her income and the cost of her modest way of life. What at first seemed a reasonably well paid job had transpired to be less so once she had budgeted for travel, clothes and food. The novelty of living back at home had worn off too, Teresa speaking of the difficulties sharing the house with parents and younger siblings. These unforeseen changes to Teresa’s wellbeing poses interesting questions about how people adapt to their circumstances and their awareness of how these impact on their wellbeing (the so called issue of ‘fallibility’) (Gilbert, 2007). That people can be surprised at how new jobs, homes or relationships unfold having unpredictable emotional consequences and influences on their happiness. Qualitative/biographical approaches to wellbeing rightly document the subjective experiences of happiness but are also sensitive to longer term and larger scale economic and cultural processes that influence happiness. It is difficult to understand Teresa’s later disenchantment without reference to the growth in poor quality employment in the UK (as part of long-term processes of de-industrialisation since the 1970s) leaving some young people on low incomes that fail to meet the costs of transport, housing and consumer lifestyles (Willetts, 2011; Standing, 2014). Rising housing costs and poor labour market opportunities therefore are significant economic and policy factors that help us understand the relatively poor wellbeing of young people in the UK compared to other European countries (UNICEF, 2007; Pople et al., 2015). How did Teresa reflect on the structural conditioning of her wellbeing and how did she respond? She discussed ways to limit her disenchantment with her job and lifestyle, exploring how to save money and sharing a flat with her boyfriend as the next step towards adult independence. This is an interesting example of how a period of difficult emotions and dip in wellbeing can be a catalyst for creativity and reflexivity (Archer, 1988; Sayer, 2010) that may lead to later improvements in wellbeing. Behind these ‘peaks and troughs’ of wellbeing therefore lies some intriguing features sometimes neglected by survey research and more critical sociological commentary. Attention to the structuring and agency around wellbeing illuminates how there may be ‘silver linings’ to what appear at first to be troubling emotions and challenging events. In Teresa’s case, as with other interviewees, she did come to acknowledge (echoing Eudaimonic notions of happiness) that living well often involves working through problematic experiences and that disappointments are part of this process and not viewed somehow as ‘pathological’ as some critical commentary suggests (Furedi, 2004; Illouz, 2008).

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Louise: Multiple Disadvantage and its Influence on Wellbeing The second case study Louise, is similar to Teresa in that social class/gender processes combined with periods of agency/adaptation appear to condition the ebb and flow of her wellbeing – disadvantage framing periods of poorer wellbeing and creative adaptations influencing better wellbeing. The case study illustrates the three inter-related themes emerging from my data – namely the complex interpretative understanding of wellbeing emerging across interviewee’s relationships as they age. Although I employed the concept of habitus to model her emerging wellbeing the ‘thickness’ or ‘depth’ of the data also called for other analytical concepts to interrogate the emotional, psychic and performative dimensions of wellbeing. For young working class women like Louise, difficult, uncertain transitions to adulthood generate a wide range of challenging and more positive emotions (of varying frequency, intensity and duration) implicated in emerging social identities. Louise’s wellbeing narratives (and the centrality of early life events) suggested the need to connect early life experiences to the shaping of the self and later wellbeing – the deployment of some psychoanalytical concepts. These concepts created another level of meaning and interpretation of wellbeing as it emerged biographically (see Cieslik, 2017, pp. 93‒122, for examples). Initially I analysed Louise’s narrative in relation to the socio-economic and cultural disadvantages she experienced. Growing up in a working class district of North East England meant Louise (aged 24 at interview in 2012), like Teresa had access to distinctive classed/gendered resources/opportunities but these were much more problematic for her life and happiness. Her parents had low paid, insecure work, suffering from mental health and drug/alcohol issues. Louise’s parents separated when she was young so she lived in poor quality accommodation (with her mother and two older brothers) attending a poorly performing school. Like Teresa, Louise’s learning identity (a relative lack of confidence about her academic abilities) was partly shaped by her class cultural background or habitus. This was compounded by dyslexia for which she had little support, either from her mother or school. As a child of a single parent in receipt of state benefits there was insufficient money for food, school books or clothes. There were also emotional insecurities that threatened her wellbeing as her mother’s drug use reversed the usual family roles – the teenage Louise often caring for her mother. Louise spoke of these years as ‘very difficult’, feeling ‘frustrated, very low’ and being ‘angry and disruptive at school’. One sees the multiple disadvantages flowing from her social background offering meagre resources and opportunities and in turn a much poorer wellbeing than Teresa’s and the other young people in this research (see Cieslik, 2017, p. 93).

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Louise’s Happiness Highs and Lows: The Impact of Trauma and Coping Strategies on Wellbeing As with Teresa’s case study, despite some challenging circumstances people do sometimes manage difficult times and adapt their lifestyles that can lead to better wellbeing. This interplay of structuring and agency behind the ups and downs of wellbeing reflects a concern that qualitative research (in contrast to some other approaches) have with the everyday processes and experiences of wellbeing. During the final years of school Louise spoke of ‘coming to terms’ with the difficulties she experienced and realising the importance of education as a way out of working class disadvantage – a shifting pattern of orientations towards learning amongst working class girls that has been documented elsewhere (Reay et al., 2009). The happiness mapping we did at interview revealed the complex positive influences on Louise’s wellbeing – a part-time job, sporting activities, good friends, her partner, Faye and time with grandparents. At school Louise’s academic ability was also finally nurtured by teachers providing specialist dyslexia support. My family really messed up. Mum was a heroin addict and brothers were in prison… always been around drugs, crime whatever, everyone expected me to be like my brothers, even at school got tarred with same brush… Faye (girlfriend) puts up with a lot… she saved me from this destructive cycle… roller hockey broke the cycle, I really wanted to try this, went down and played instead of drinking, taking drugs went training instead, gave me structure… Didn't want to live below the breadline, wanted a better life, so I used what I got, a brain, to get on. (Louise)

We can see, despite threats to a good life, the subjectively complex experiences of wellbeing emerging from social networks enhancing self-esteem and nourishing a positive identity. Other research notes the role that friendships play in supporting women’s wellbeing in the face of gender inequalities (Hey, 1997) and this was also evident with the women in this study (see Cieslik, 2017, pp. 123‒156). These positive experiences and better wellbeing as a teenager helped Louise to persevere with her studies and secure a place at university. She moved onto campus and spoke of enjoying these years of studying, sport and new friends. In her third year she was looking forward to graduating and a new career. However, during her final year at university Louise’s mother was diagnosed with a terminal lung disease triggering a new low point in her wellbeing. Had panic attacks and some days I stayed in bed all day, I couldn't sleep, just wanted to die, I was suicidal. Couldn’t control my emotions, I was just falling apart. (Louise)

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Louise was surprised at the range and intensity of her emotions during this time and the difficulties she had understanding them. She felt engulfed by sadness yet also a surprising anger – why feel so angry about her difficult and distant mother? Here we see another example of the paradox or ‘riddle of happiness’ – objectively Louise appeared to be successful with academic achievements, friends, part-time employment, and supportive partner yet subjectively felt very low. Previous research has suggested that people adapt to their improving circumstances and envy the lives of others so trappings of success can fail to sustain good wellbeing – the hedonic treadmill (Layard, 2005, p. 48). In Louise’s case however, the troubling emotions and difficult family relationships suggested other processes at play. Counselling helped me to see that I was worried about losing my mum… When I was growing up I felt like I had lost my mum because of her drug addiction… she said to me, ‘I’m not going to lie to you Louise, but if I had not taken drugs I would have killed myself’. But I said, ‘you don’t understand, that to me you were dead because you weren’t yourself’. Then she finally gets off them… and I get her back and then she gets emphysema and she’s dying… I was angry at my mum, ‘how dare you get ill’, and I was angry at the world because I’m losing my mum and there’s nothing I can do about it. (Louise)

I sought some insights from the sociology of emotions and psychoanalytical theory to help analyse emotions around Louise’s biography. As a child Louise often cared for her mother, ‘managing her emotions’ and putting a ‘brave face’ on these difficult times. She saw herself as ‘tough’ symbolised by playing hockey, working at a bar and ‘having a laugh’ with friends. We can interpret this period using Goffman/Hochschild’s performative notion of emotions and impression management. Louise was constructing an image or ‘front’ of a carefree hedonist, concealing the deeper self and emotions or ‘back region’ of her more troubling homelife. Over time, however, this gulf between the appearance/front and deeper emotional self can become problematic, ultimately threatening wellbeing. Psychoanalytical theory deepens this analysis of emotions suggesting the effects of difficult family experiences are internalised into the unconscious, later emerging to create surprising and disconcerting emotions that can shape wellbeing (Elliott, 2015). For some time Louise had come to believe in the ‘tough’ persona she had crafted and felt she had coped successfully with a dysfunctional family – the drugs, violence and her absent mother. She was perhaps unaware of the repression, denial or other defence mechanisms at play (Freud, 1992; Craib, 2001) and how echoes of her earlier troubled self could emerge later in life, disrupting her sense of self and her wellbeing. Psychoanalytical concepts therefore can offer another level of interpretation targeting the symbolic and contradictory features of biographies of wellbeing –

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elements sometimes neglected by survey and critical approaches in happiness research. At interview Louise suggested counselling helped her to understand her emotions rather more and she was moving forward with her life with plans for a new home and career. Psychoanalytical concepts are useful for qualitative wellbeing research as they help us analyse what appear to be inexplicable emotions and wellbeing that seem to disrupt the expected relationships between objective circumstances and subjective evaluations of quality of life. Concepts such as the unconscious and defence mechanisms can help make sense of the peculiar biographical patterns to wellbeing, connecting earlier life events (both traumatic and nourishing) to processes of internalisation, later triggers and subsequent shaping of wellbeing.

CONCLUSIONS: WHAT CAN QUALITATIVE/ BIOGRAPHICAL RESEARCH TELL US ABOUT HAPPINESS/WELLBEING? I have drawn on two case studies to illustrate how qualitative and biographical approaches to wellbeing can offer insights into happiness sometimes neglected by existing research. Qualitative studies in particular illustrate the subjectively complex, emotional and performative aspects of wellbeing that flow from everyday relationships as people age. In contrast to some other research, qualitative life course studies offer a view of the ebb and flow of wellbeing that reflects the influence of structural processes as well as the creative powers of people adapting to the constraints they face. As the case studies suggest, episodes of good and not so good wellbeing emerge from access to structured opportunities and resources, yet wellbeing can also be influenced by subjective understandings and everyday creativity employed to ‘get on’ in life. There are some key ingredients for good wellbeing such as fulfilling employment and supportive relationships as we saw at points in my interviewee’s lives. Yet an intriguing feature of biographical research is that despite these conditions and the best efforts of people they are often confounded by how their wellbeing evolves, sometimes because of earlier life events. This happiness riddle is one of many reasons why qualitative and biographical approaches deserve to be further developed in wellbeing research.

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Manzenreiter, W. and B. Holthus (eds) (2017), Happiness and the Good Life in Japan, London: Routledge. Marcuse, H. (2002), One Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Industrial Societies, London: Routledge. Mathews, G. (2010), Finding and keeping a purpose in life: well-being and ikigai in Japan and elsewhere, in G. Mathews and C. Izquierdo (eds), Pursuits of Happiness: Well-Being in Anthropological Perspective, Oxford: Berghahn Books, pp. 167‒188. Mathews, G. and C. Izquierdo (eds) (2010), Pursuits of Happiness: Well-Being in Anthropological Perspective, Oxford: Berghahn Books. Maton, K. (2014), Habitus, in Michael Grenfell (ed.), Pierre Bourdieu: Key Concepts, London: Routledge, pp. 48‒64. McMahon, D. (2006), Happiness: A History, New York: Grove Press. Mills, C.W. (1959), The Sociological Imagination, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pahl, R. (2007), Friendship, trust and mutuality, in John Haworth and Graham Hart (eds), Wellbeing: Individual, Community and Social Perspectives, London: Palgrave, pp. 256‒270. Pople, L., G. Rees, G. Main and J. Bradshaw (2015), The Good Childhood Report 2015, London: Children’s Society. Pykett, J. and J. Cromby (2017), Mapping happiness, managing urban emotions, in V. Higgins and W. Larner (eds), Assembling Neoliberalism, London: Palgrave, pp. 195‒216. Reay, D., G. Crozier and J. Clayton (2009), ‘Fitting in or sticking out’: working class students in UK higher education, British Education Research Journal, IFirst article, http://​dx​.doi​.org/​10​.1080/​01411920902878925. Sayer, A. (2010), Reflexivity and the habitus, in M. Archer (ed.), Conversations About Reflexivity, London: Routledge, pp. 108‒122. Searle, B.A. (2008), Well-Being: In Search of a Good Life, Bristol: Policy Press. Standing, G. (2014), The Precariat: The New Dangerous Class (2nd ed.), London: Bloomsbury Press. Sutton Trust (2014), Analysis of Trends in Higher Education Applications, Admissions, and Enrolments, London: Sutton Trust. Thin, N. (2012), Social Happiness: Theory into Policy and Practice, Bristol: Policy Press. Thin, N. (2021), Living well together: conviviality and the social constitution of happiness, in M. Cieslik (ed.), Researching Happiness : Qualitative, Biographical and Critical Perspectives, Bristol: Bristol University Press, forthcoming. UNICEF (2007), Child Poverty in Perspective: An Overview of Child Wellbeing in Rich Countries, Florence: UNICEF. Veenhoven, R. (1984), Conditions of Happiness, Lancaster: Kluwer Academic Publishers. White, S. (2017), Relational wellbeing: re-centering the politics of happiness, policy and the self, Policy and Politics, 45 (2), 121‒136. Wilkinson, R. and K. Pickett (2009), The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone, London: Penguin. Willetts, D. (2011), The Pinch: How the Baby Boomers Took their Children’s Future – and Why They Should Give it Back, London: Atlantic Books.

6. Practicing wellbeing through community economies: an action research approach Thomas SJ Smith and Kelly Dombroski INTRODUCTION: ANOTHER ECONOMY, ANOTHER WELLBEING Given that wellbeing is a term used to examine ‘the complex relationships between interior life, self or relational selves and the external environment’ (Atkinson et al., 2020, p. 1917), it is bound to be polyvalent. With divergent research approaches coming to the fore across respective disciplines, the discourse of wellbeing is therefore only partly formed and already diverse. This characteristic – meaning many things to many people – may in fact be one of wellbeing’s strengths as a rallying concept. At a moment of drastic unsustainability, where human survival on Earth itself appears an open question, we can see the openness to discussions around this concept as an opportunity for intervening in the present and future. The wellbeing research agenda has risen to prominence in recent decades amidst deepening concerns about the destructive relations between society, economy, culture and ecology. As discussed in detail elsewhere (see, for instance, Jackson, 2011), a key driver of scholarship on wellbeing, quality of life, happiness and related terms, has been the desire to understand and conceive of socio-economic ‘development’ differently. This impetus stems from the long-standing – yet wholly inadequate – practice of equating social progress with growth of Gross Domestic Product (GDP). Since taking its modern form in the 1930s, GDP (a measure of the market value of all goods and services produced in a certain jurisdiction during a certain time, normally calculated at the country level) has been cemented as the key measure of national and societal health or success, often used as a shorthand by government advisors, policy makers, the media and others. For much of the last century, a rise in GDP has been the ideological symbol of a nation that is doing something right. Even in a situation of deep inequality, 84

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where some hold far more wealth than others, the conventional narrative holds that growing overall monetary wealth will trickle down to those who need it. A rising tide, it has been asserted ad nauseum, lifts all boats. On the other hand, declining GDP brings panic, anxiety and – in the context of capitalist mechanisms which necessitate growth – social and personal hardship. When an economy enters recession, it brings with it widespread unemployment, poverty, inequality and increased suicide rates (Oyesanya et al., 2015). Such reliance on the growth of one simplistic measure is highly problematic, however, as has been meticulously explored by a growing stream of degrowth and steady-state economists. Going even further back in time, for instance, Latouche (2017) discusses how this link between national productivity and ‘wellness’ has historical antecedents in the Enlightenment and French Revolution. ‘The program of modernity’, he notes (p. 19), ‘which was to give rise to the society of growth, is nothing other than the greatest happiness for the greatest number.’ Fundamental problems with GDP were noted by the very founder of the metric, the economist Simon Kuznets, in the 1934 report in which he outlined and clarified the concept of national income. There, Kuznets spends considerable effort highlighting its partiality and fallibility, disavowing any logical relationship between national economic productivity and the quality of life in a nation. Given all that the measure excludes (domestic labour, non-monetary transactions, and so on) and all that it problematically includes (inhumane and unsustainable economic activities, the costs of repairing societal problems, cleaning up pollution, and much more), he expressly warned that it was susceptible to ‘oversimplification’ and ‘abuse’ (Kuznets, 1934, p. 6; see also the pioneering work of Waring, 1988). Kuznets went on to say that ‘The welfare of a nation can, therefore, scarcely be inferred from a measurement of national income’ (p. 7). Recognizing this, much recent work on wellbeing has been explicitly grounded in an attempt to conceptualize social ‘wellness’ beyond its reduction to one problematic metric (Jackson, 2011; see also Grimes, Chapter 17 this volume for an evaluation of how policy and budget decision-making in different nations are incorporating wellbeing). If ‘wellness’ cannot be represented by GDP, then, in what other ways have societies and researchers tried to measure it? This has taken a number of forms, from the formulation of multidimensional indices – such as the UN’s Human Development Index (HDI) and the New Economics Foundation’s Happy Planet Index (HPI) – to the so-called ‘science of happiness’ (Miller, 2008), which focuses on gathering individual psychological assessments of wellness, usually through surveys. This ‘happiness turn’ has simultaneously permeated broader society, with books on positive psychology and mindfulness consistently entering bestseller lists, and numerous national commissions established to operationalize wellbeing as a policy-relevant concept (Smith and Reid, 2018).

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However, critical voices have increasingly questioned these developments, not least for their tendency towards methodological reductionism, their grounding in individualist understandings of society, or their sometimes dubious quantifications (Carlisle et al., 2009). Fredrickson and Losada’s positing of a singular ‘critical productivity ratio’, discussed by Brown et al. (2013), provides an infamous and high-profile case. Moving from the individual to the country scale, however, there has been a tendency to aggregate individual statistics and take the average figure to speak for the ‘wellbeing’ of the nation as a whole. If a country’s average score is good, then wellbeing is good; a blunt instrument at best. The production of such statistics holds its own assumptions, whereby ‘Homo economicus, the monadic, self-interested individual of late capitalist market societies all-too-quickly reverts to homo felix, the monadic, self-interested pleasure-maximizer’ (Smith and Reid, 2018, p. 814). This is to replicate rather than challenge an already problematic research approach, with the variable of individualized happiness standing in for income. Other authors have questioned a tendency in the literature towards pathologizing negativity or dissatisfaction with the status quo (Davies, 2016; Ehrenreich, 2010; Purser, 2019). Yet there remains something about the concept that seems important to retain, if developed in conversation with these critiques. The aim of this chapter is to move beyond narrowly individualistic and psychological measures, and to reclaim wellbeing as a shared socio-economic concept. Our approach to wellbeing research is to examine the concept through the lens of a particular school of heterodox economic thought: diverse and community economies. We explore how community economies scholars have engaged with wellbeing to open up a seam of radical economic possibility – most prominently through the formulation of ‘surviving well together’ and, methodologically, through action research approaches. After exploring the notion of GDP further, and introducing the diverse and community economies tradition, the chapter outlines how community economies and wellbeing scholarship are parallel projects which would benefit from continued dialogue.

(DE)LINKING GDP AND WELLBEING You have taken over the job of creating desire, and have transformed people into constantly moving happiness machines. Machines which have become the key to economic progress. (Herbert Hoover addressing an audience from the advertising industry, 1928)

Just as GDP per capita came to stand in for collective wellbeing at the national level, so too has it been assumed – based on the assumptions of neo-classical economic theory (Guillen-Royo, 2007) – that being a financially rich indi-

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vidual would inevitably equate to greater personal satisfaction. After all, in a market society inhabited by rational economic actors, cash facilitates access to ‘goods’ and rising income brings rising utility satisfaction. Despite the assumption in conventional economic discourses that the two are coupled, prominent findings in wellbeing scholarship question any obvious or linear link between wealth per capita and ‘wellness’ (see Jackson, 2011). Max-Neef’s ‘threshold hypothesis’, for instance, posits that beyond a relatively low point, increases in income are very weakly – if at all – connected with reported life satisfaction (Bruni, 2006; Max-Neef, 1995). Furthermore, the Easterlin paradox appears to show that life satisfaction increases with wealth within countries, while contradictorily not increasing in a similar manner when measured between countries (Bruni, 2006; Guillen-Royo, 2007). Given the contested and likely minor role of income in quality of life, Guillen-Royo (2010, p. 391) summarizes that ‘Research on the relationship between income and happiness has repeatedly indicated that in rich societies the wellbeing dividend can be obtained by changing the stress from increasing income to the promotion of those aspects that make life worth living’ (see also Rosa, 2018). While the link between GDP and wellbeing appears shaky, a very real connection has been shown to exist between GDP growth, unsustainable resource use and over-consumption (Hickel and Kallis, 2019; Næss and Høyer, 2009; Raworth, 2017). Such studies underscore the radical necessity for human- and earth-centred economic alternatives, with a wellbeing orientation requiring a deeper shift than just replacing metrics. Sekulova et al. (2017, p. 160), for instance, note that ‘Gross domestic product growth is just the skin of a broader socio-economic process of expansion, and of increasing control of humans over nature and one another.’ As this implies, the economy and socio-ecological welfare are tightly and materially connected in a number of ways. One such connection, which social critics have long noted, is the importance of instilling dissatisfaction and individualistic status competition as a key driver of GDP-generating consumption (Jackson, 2017; Löwy, 2015). Ewen (2001, p. 25) notes that, as industrialism developed, ‘Men and women had to be habituated to respond to the demands of the productive machinery.’ This consumption, in turn, is not necessarily for direct use, but often part of a vision of themselves as being happier or a ‘better’ person in possession of a particular product (see Watson, Chapter 4 this volume). The rise of aspirational and lifestyle-based advertising played a key role in Fordist mass production in the early 20th century, driving the reproduction of high-consumption societies over the last century (Ewen, 2001). Kimmerer (2013, p. 111) reminds us that ‘In a consumer society, contentment is a radical proposition. Recognizing abundance rather than scarcity undermines an economy that thrives by creating unmet desires.’

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By basing an economy on ‘having’ over ‘being’ in this way (Löwy, 2015), a person is reduced to their role as an individual ‘consumer’, rather than, say, a community-member, denizen, mother, father or friend. Economic activity thus becomes cut off from wider social or community networks or needs, and is reduced to mere purchasing and consumption. As Gibson-Graham (2006, p. 166) argues: All strategies [in mainstream economics] are pursued with the promise that increased well-being will trickle down from the capitalist sector and its employees to the wider community. And all are beholden to the conviction that economic growth… is unquestionably desirable. Underpinning the complex set of strategies, policies, and beliefs that constitutes development discourse is a particular ontological framing of economic dynamics that is rooted in the experience of Western European and North American industrialization. The relationships between production and consumption, investment and growth, proletarianization and material well-being, competition, technological change, and efficiency that ostensibly characterized these experiences have been reified as structural logics of economic functioning and elevated as universal principles.

Given exponential GDP growth since the industrial revolution, the world would seem destined for a state of high-consumptive bliss, to paraphrase WW Rostow (1960). The economic model has backfired, however, and its very foundations have proven not just false, but actively harmful. After all, if neo-classical assumptions around the market (operating optimally, left to the ‘invisible hand’) and individual (as rational, utility-maximizing market actors with insatiable desires) were true, then it’s difficult to see why such extensive consumer manipulation – through the PR industry – would be needed. Furthermore, in countries of the Majority World, these neo-classical assumptions simply do not translate, with ‘other psycho-social factors [playing] a major role’ (Guillen-Royo, 2007, p. 166). Even in the United States, a seminal text on the pitfalls of capitalist business-as-usual – Tim Kasser’s The High Price of Materialism (2002) – presents evidence that ‘the American dream has a dark side, and the pursuit of wealth and possessions might actually be undermining our well-being’ (p. 9; see also Atkinson et al., 2020). The trans-disciplinary research agenda focused on community economies instead aims to reintroduce place-based ethics to the conversation around wellbeing, rescuing it from both this universalist neo-classical economic paradigm and the tendency to replace homo economicus with homo felix (the latter often measured in terms of Subjective Well Being [SWB]). This approach converts wellness from a thing out there in the world – ready for measurement and objective analysis – to being something shared and dynamic: akin to a conversation. As the next section makes clear, this is ‘to think about what our human

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lives are actually about, and how we should best live them together’ (Tronto, 2017, p. 37).

FROM DIVERSE TO COMMUNITY ECONOMIES – SURVIVING WELL TOGETHER What if we asked theory to do something else – to help us see openings, to help us to find happiness, to provide a space of freedom and possibility? (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. 7)

Drawing from the seminal work of JK Gibson-Graham in economic geography, the study of diverse economies is a feminist economic project which sets out to appreciate the plethora of economic forms which constitute what we think of as ‘the’ economy. In particular, it grew from criticisms that swathes of economic thinking tended to focus on just the capitalist elements of social reproduction – namely, waged labour, market transactions and capitalist enterprise (Figure 6.1) – and ignored the more-than-capitalist world of social reproduction, exchange and provisioning that underpin it. The tendency to ignore the diversity of the economy and focus only on the capitalist tip of a larger iceberg has been described as ‘capitalocentrism’ (Gibson-Graham, 2008, p. 623). This parallels arguments that we live at a time of profound ‘capitalist realism’ (Fisher, 2009) where alternatives to capitalism are obscured, or viewed as deeply unrealistic, if not simply unthinkable in the first place. In a diverse economies framing, the economy is seen as already full of possibility: it is a ‘contingent assemblage of process, practices, and actors (human and non-human) that make possible the production and distribution of goods and services’ (Community Economies Collective, 2019, p. 57). While capitalist accumulation occurs, the economy is understood as not necessarily only and inevitably structured by it. The well-known cast of exploitative capitalists, parasitic landlords and oppressed wage labourers feature as only part of the overall performance, present alongside subjects of other class processes – independent, communal, feudal, slave, and more (Gibson-Graham, 1996). In this work, local and participatory inventory exercises are often used to create a fuller appreciation of everyday and more-than-capitalist economic practices, highlighting the rich diversity hidden by conventional approaches (Figure 6.1). Of course, the uncovered diversity also includes class processes and economic activities that are racist and oppressive (Gibson-Graham and Dombroski, 2020). The question then becomes which of these diverse economic activities can seed different kinds of economies that are better for people and planet (Gibson-Graham et al., 2013) – what kinds of community economies can we imagine? And how can we build on parts of what is already there to foster these ethically rather than contribute to oppression?

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Source Ken Byrne, Community Economies Collective (Creative Commons License).

Figure 6.1

Diverse economies iceberg

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By moving discussion from diverse economies to community economies, a series of more normative questions are raised by scholars and activists (see Box 6.1). Scholars of community economies thus pay particular attention to which diverse (more-than-capitalist) practices contribute to individual, community and ecological wellbeing and how they might be marshalled to enable communities to survive well together. This acknowledges ‘the plethora of hidden and alternative economic activities that contributed to social well-being and environmental regeneration’ (Gibson-Graham, 2008, p. 216). The Community Economies Collective (2019, p. 56) defines a community economy as ‘a set of economic practices that… foregrounds community and environmental wellbeing’. The resulting scholarship in this field (which, at the time of writing, includes a network of researchers spanning various continents through initiatives such as the Community Economies Research Network (CERN) and the Community Economies Institute (CEI) (see communityeconomies.org)), has reinvigorated an interest in the diversity of local economies from which more-than-capitalist worlds could flourish, which are often dismissed as too small or too local in conventional theorizing. By looking at how economies are performed, and how they can be performed differently in the here and now, community economies scholarship evades the dilemma of either simply accepting the status quo, or waiting idly for some future revolution (Roelvink and Zolkos, 2015).

BOX 6.1 KEY CONCERNS OF A COMMUNITY ECONOMY • How do we survive well? What do we really need to live healthy lives, in ways that don’t impinge on others’ health and wellbeing (including the planet)? • How do we distribute surplus? What do we do with what’s left over from meeting our survival needs? How do we decide what to do with it? • What kinds of transactions do we want to have? How do we secure the things we can’t produce ourselves? What kinds of relationships with human and non-human others do we create in these transactions? • How do we consume sustainably? What do we use up in the process of surviving well? How do we do this with care? • How do we maintain, restore and replenish our natural, social and intellectual commons? • How do we invest for future generations? How do we store and use our surplus for the wellbeing of people and planet into the future? Source Gibson-Graham et al. (2013).

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There are many parallels between disaffection with the hegemony of GDP, as described in previous sections, and this move beyond capitalocentrism, towards community economies. These start with the common aim of weakening the hegemonic economic narratives or discourses of the 20th and 21st centuries: away from reifying capitalism and conventional understandings of development in the case of the community economies school, and away from fixations on GDP in the case of wellbeing scholarship. These are not unrelated goals, of course: As Kuznets admitted, GDP sets up our understanding of the economy in a capitalocentric way, excluding the non-market and non-commodified. The assumption made by neo-classical economics – that access to money satisfies utility – excludes the role of the various non-monetized spheres which diverse economies scholars bring to light. This includes domestic reproductive labour, but also various forms of gift economies, barter, Indigenous modes of exchange, volunteering and mutual aid, to name just a few. Together, community economies and wellbeing research can thus shift our focus in a number of ways: from privatized profit to socio-cultural connectivity and equitable surplus distribution; from wage labour to good work and livelihoods; from private property to commoning; and from speculative investment and finance to investing in common future wellbeing. While sceptical of the rise of new quantified wellbeing indicators which ‘make a complicated world both knowable and manageable’ (p. 121), Gibson-Graham et al. (2016) appreciate that at least some of these attempts to assess wellbeing ‘move away from understanding happiness in purely individualized terms as a personality trait, and acknowledge the role that collective endeavours play’ (p. 117). Furthermore, while metrics such as the Human Development Index problematically maintain GDP as a constituent, other representations of wellbeing have concretely expanded our vision of ‘the economy’ in the way the iceberg diagram does. This has included, for instance, re-centring on the importance of unpaid and volunteer work, both in the home and the community. Gibson-Graham et al. (2016) cite the World Happiness Report as a positive development on this front and, while the 2020 report primarily relies on aggregation of individual data, it too pays attention to the ‘social foundations of happiness’ (Helliwell et al., 2020, p. 33), including social interactions, interpersonal support, trust, and (combating) inequality (see Ceislik in Chapter 5 and contributions in Part II this volume for research exploring these themes). Similarly, the inclusion of care and volunteer labour hours in census systems in Canada and New Zealand are helpful developments towards balancing the exclusions of GDP calculations in both countries. While we can identify productive resonances in a broad sense, much contemporary wellbeing research sits uncomfortably with the theoretical commitments of community economies scholarship. First, the community economies tradition moves away from confidently asserting what ‘wellbeing’ is. There is

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no a priori sense of what is at the heart of the good life, nor would it be possible to instrumentally and objectively ‘test’ or ‘verify’ a nation’s wellbeing (see Smith and Reid, 2018). Second, by individualizing and psychologizing notions of wellness, some wellbeing research naturalizes conventional representations of the economy and the rational actor, taking these as a seemingly neutral backdrop in the same way that capitalocentric economics does (Bruni, 2006). By moving away from GDP and focusing on the context for wellbeing itself, community economic practices attempt ‘to meet local needs by delivering increased wellbeing directly (rather than relying on the circuitous route of capitalist industrialization)’ (Gibson-Graham, 2006, p. 193). Focusing on community practices for wellbeing, rather than indirect goals such as ‘development’ or ‘GDP’, is what Fischer (2014) describes as Aristotelian or ‘eudaimonic’. The eudaimonic approach contrasts with ‘hedonic’ ones by focusing on cultivating the context for flourishing and the quality of processes over time, rather than immediate and often short-lived individualistic sensations of happiness (Atkinson et al., 2020). As Amartya Sen (1985, p. 197) noted, ‘It is hard to avoid the conclusion that although happiness is of obvious and direct relevance to wellbeing, it is inadequate as a representation of wellbeing.’ This tradition thus seeks a more durable sense of wellness, often through shared eco-social and economic practices (Schmid and Smith, 2020). More nuanced understandings of the ‘collective or relational aspect of happiness’ (Gibson-Graham et al., 2016 p. 118) are notoriously difficult to measure or track. Gibson-Graham et al. (2016) propose a ‘relational metrics approach’ (p. 122) as one way to ‘challenge the tenets of neoliberal government that promote individualism, austerity and disinvestment in social welfare as the rightful way to progress the nation’ (p. 119). Using a time-use clock and rudimentary ‘wellbeing scorecard’ (Figure 6.2) as examples, Gibson-Graham et al. assert that such tools could be used as a starting point for people ‘engaging in joint reflection on their lives as a prelude to collective actions to more effectively survive well together and in so doing achieve happiness’ (2016, p. 129). While the tools themselves are asking for individuals to reflect, the idea is that this happens within a process of communities together negotiating to enhance material, social, occupational, community and physical wellbeing. These sorts of simple facilitative tools can be coupled with other participatory exercises to understand the various economic practices which underpin community wellbeing. This includes the participatory creation of a specific ‘iceberg’ (Figure 6.1) using local terminology and practices (McKinnon et al., 2016), or conducting a community economic inventory broken down into categories such as transactions (whether market or non-market), labour (waged or non-waged) and enterprise (capitalist or non-capitalist) (Gibson-Graham, 2005). Such exercises play a performative role, intervening in social reality to create new ways of discussing, framing and, ultimately, enacting social

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Source Gibson-Graham et al. (2013).

Figure 6.2

Tools for thinking about wellbeing

possibility. They can, for instance, bring to light ‘the wide range of economic practices that support wellbeing directly, offer a social safety net and are vehicles for community celebration and civic engagement’ (Gibson-Graham and Roelvink, 2011, p. 30). Furthermore, they can be crucial in revaluing those groups/practices/individuals which may be marginalized or even seen as unproductive, or shed light on the economy’s broad dependence on (or exchange with) ecological and more-than-human processes (Gibson-Graham and Roelvink, 2011). They are designed to create conversations around difference and to negotiate community around shared concerns. While it is not opposed to representations of the ‘good life’ and what it might entail, the community economies tradition does not merely replace one set of wellbeing metrics with another. Instead, the argument made here is that it draws on a fundamentally different and more open economic framing than orthodox neo-classical economics. ‘Being’ in the community economies tradition is always being-in-common and, thus wellbeing becomes reframed around practices of ‘surviving well together’ (Gibson-Graham et al., 2016). In the next section we provide an insight into the implications this has for undertaking wellbeing research.

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Action Research: Negotiating (Well)Being-in-Common through Practices of Care In a community economy of care, the relationality of livelihoods and economies are foregrounded, allowing us to focus on the ways that practices of economy create opportunities to care for human and non-human others. (Dombroski et al., 2019b, p. 113)

The notion of wellbeing was central to the recovery of the city of Christchurch in Aotearoa New Zealand following a series of devastating earthquakes in 2010 and 2011. While the major seismic events were the 7.2 megawatt (Mw) earthquake in September 2010 and the more devastating 6.3 Mw earthquake of February 2011, where 185 people died, the entire earthquake sequence over almost five years included more than 4,000 noticeable earthquakes and many minor shocks. Christchurch residents experienced an average of around 2.4 earthquakes per day for some five years (Dombroski et al., 2018). One can imagine how wellbeing might be under strain with such constant reminders of death and destruction combined with loss or damage of homes, battles with insurance providers, broken sewerage and drainage systems and recurrent flooding, ongoing erosion of citizen’s rights under emergency law and deeply disrupted place attachment with over 80 per cent of the central city demolished. As an indicator of the poor mental wellbeing of the population at this time, the Canterbury District Health Board reported a 69 per cent increase in the number of children and youth presenting for mental health services, and a 40 per cent increase in adult referrals after the 2011 earthquakes (Liberty et al., 2016). Indeed, while the initial community response to the earthquakes was to work in common for collective wellbeing, through both new organizing and drawing on older organizations (Carlton and Vallance, 2017), over time, the daily grind of living with significant, long-term disruption continued to affect people’s mental health and wellbeing (Sepie, 2015). It was in this context that community economies scholars began a number of interrelated projects, working with community organizations in post-earthquake Christchurch to research – and support – different forms of being-in-common that were emerging in response to the many wellbeing deficiencies of the city. These interrelated projects sought to both document community economies of care and to also research in ways that enacted community economies of care. Care emerges as one of the recurring answers to the set of questions asked by Gibson-Graham (2006), and later, Gibson-Graham et al. (2013) (see Box 6.1). In each of these key concerns, care might form part of the answer as communities marshal their diverse economic practices to carefully negotiate what a community economy might look like and what kinds of values might underpin how we survive well together. Indeed, in the ethical actions suggested by

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Gibson-Graham et al. in each chapter of their activist handbook Take Back the Economy, care for (and with) planet and people is centred (Gibson-Graham et al., 2013). In the context of Christchurch, where so many people were struggling in response to the difficult circumstances, care was at once highly valued and clearly needed, while also operating in constrained conditions – everyone needed care, and while some needed more than others, the conditions were such that no one was likely to be operating with a ‘surplus’ of care (Dombroski et al., 2018). In such conditions, strategies aimed at the collectivization of care for wellbeing are the ones most likely to lead to surviving well together (see also Smith, 2019). The remainder of this section explores two key research projects in Christchurch, New Zealand where community economies of care were both documented and enacted. Life in Vacant Spaces: commoning for urban wellbeing While the post-earthquake Alright? campaign sought to alert Christchurch residents to the ‘five ways to wellbeing’ they could try to enact themselves, other organizations sought to provide spaces in the city that fostered wellbeing. These spaces would provide the material and social context for these ‘five ways’ to wellbeing to be enacted. Building on research on wellbeing, the Canterbury District Health Board’s Alright? campaign began in 2013 in the ‘disillusionment’ phase of the recovery (https://​www​.allright​.org​.nz/​about​ #history). It encouraged residents to ‘connect’, ‘be active’, ‘give back’, ‘take notice’, and ‘keep learning’, promising that if the individual introduced these five strategies to their life they would ‘feel the difference’ in their wellbeing. While subsequent campaigns have been more collectively framed, the original Alright? campaign encouraged residents to take their wellbeing into their own hands. This individualist take on wellbeing contrasted with the work of organizations such as Gapfiller and Life in Vacant Spaces (LiVS), which attempted to create wellbeing spaces in the city, through urban regeneration projects that fostered social transformation and community recovery. Gapfiller is an organization that fostered community wellbeing through providing spaces for fun and connection in a city where most of the public spaces for social connection had been destroyed or shut down. Successful projects included the Pallet Pavilion, the Dance-o-Mat – a pop up interactive sound garden – ‘letterboxing’ activities, mini-golf and The Commons, all fun-enabling spaces through which quirky, community-led activities gave respite from the grind of post-quake life. Life in Vacant Spaces is an organization that came into being to foster urban regeneration spaces through carrying out the behind-the-scenes negotiation and legal work required for these kinds of fun projects to be carried out on private and public land that was not being used by its owners for the time being. As such, both organizations emerged as collectivized forms of care that sought to promote community wellbeing

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through enabling residents to have common spaces to connect, be active, take notice, give back and keep learning together. Community economy scholars worked with Life in Vacant Spaces chairperson Irene Boles to document and analyse some of the work that LiVS and Gapfiller were doing. Using literature on commoning to document the work of these organizations in caring for common spaces in the city, the team argued that even if these were to be temporary at a project level, the reverberations were in the social transformation that occurred, where urban commoning comes to be ‘common sense’ for the people of Christchurch (Dombroski et al., 2019a). The relationship has continued, with the research team working out how to assess the ‘community economy return on investment’ of the work LiVS is carrying out with the Burwood community, co-managing a space in the ‘red zone’ (a vast area of unoccupied land where houses were demolished due to ground destabilization after the earthquakes). So far, the commons to be cared for has called into being a community of residents currently negotiating shared visions of their future community wellbeing. Cultivate Christchurch: developing a community economy return on investment tool Cultivate Christchurch is an urban farm and social enterprise set up in response to the lack of community mental health services in the post-earthquake period. It seeks to address youth mental health on multiple scales through providing internships to young people. These young people are welcomed into a community of urban farmers, working alongside others to grow nutritious food in soil literally built up from the green waste discarded by city-centre restaurants. In a research project in 2018, community economies scholars worked with the organization – both young people and staff – to identify the underlying values that they hoped to see enacted through concrete practices in their community, at the individual, organizational and wider community and environment scales. An assessment tool was co-created that articulated the ‘return on investment’ that these practices gave against the identified core values. For example, the values of sustainability were invested in through practices of ‘organic-ish’ farming practices, circular economies of waste, and low-carbon transportation. The values of community wellbeing were invested in through non-hierarchical practices of care and connection, slower ‘take notice’ production rates, active transport, inclusive work practices, and open days for volunteers to give back (see Healy et al., 2019). Through this action research project, Community Economies scholars worked alongside Cultivate (both in the garden and in workshops) to identify and enhance the practices of care already in place, to enact wellbeing through being-in-common in the research process, and to create meaningful outputs such as community grant applications to foster wellbeing for others.

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While the title of the funded project, ‘Delivering Urban Wellbeing through Transformative Community Enterprise’, was meant to refer to Cultivate as an organization delivering urban wellbeing, the research team negotiated with the organization as part of a community economy of care where wellbeing was co-delivered in the research action.

CONCLUSION How do we shape social institutions and practices, from education to the allotment of work time, to see whether all people can care more? (Tronto, 2017, p. 38)

This chapter has introduced the community economies approach and highlighted what it can contribute to understandings of wellbeing. It presented parallels between how discourses of wellbeing counteract a focus on GDP, and the kind of heterodox economic re-envisioning undertaken by community economies researchers. In accordance with a focus on ‘surviving well together’, wellness was cast as something intimately tied up with our community, environmental and economic relations, rather than something individuals possess or are passively bestowed with. In some ways, this is a return to the discussions of ‘quality of life’ which preceded ‘happiness studies’ as a concern in the 20th century, albeit in a less positivist manner (Bruni, 2006; Smith and Reid, 2018). The approach outlined here shares much with emerging work across a number of disciplines which connects wellbeing, community and relationality (Atkinson et al., 2020; Guillen-Royo, 2010; Rosa, 2018). Here we can follow Hoffmann and Metz’s (2017, p. 156) understanding of relationality: ‘if a person A has a relational property, then she has this property in virtue of her possible or actual interaction with at least one other person, B. Accordingly, a relational property cannot be found within either A or B alone.’ We would extend relationality beyond human relations, however, being irreducibly grounded in diverse connections with the more-than-human. As White (2017, p. 128) puts it: Wellbeing is understood as arising from the common life, the shared enterprise of living in community – in whatever sense – with others… Subjective perceptions are anchored in material and relational contexts, producing a sense… of ‘life within limits’.

While care has been increasingly commercialized and marketized – and thus increasingly disembedded from community life – it can also be the connective tissue for liberation, commoning and slower, more sustainable economies. This community focus emerges in part from scepticism of national-level well-

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being measures, which can mask inequalities, erode differentiated experiences or be driven by particular interests. The question must be asked, in conclusion, as to why wellbeing measurement has so often been the tool of top-down governance, and not of communities themselves. There is no pre-existing definition of wellbeing for community economies researchers, and no optimized surveys which can capture it. Rather, it can be better understood through conversations and participatory exercises taking place close to the action. The methods used by community economies researchers require acknowledgement that wellbeing research is often implicated in the very thing which it studies, and not ‘objective’ in any distanced sense. By going beyond utilitarianism and methodological reductionism, community economies facilitate caring for the commons at various scales – a crucial intervention for times of social and ecological crisis.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The authors would like to acknowledge a number of people who, through constructive commentary and suggestions, greatly improved this chapter. This includes the editors of this collection, as well as Benedikt Schmid, Nadia Johanisová, Stephen Healy, Lucie Sovová, Juliana Essen and other members of the Community Economies Research Network. Thomas acknowledges the support of Masaryk University (Postdoc@​ MUNI, Grant No. CZ.02.2.69/0.0/0.0/16_027/0008360). The Christchurch case studies are supported by National Science 11 Building Better Homes Towns and Cities, grant Delivering Urban Wellbeing Through Transformative Community Enterprise. Kelly would like to acknowledge the research team Gradon Diprose, Irene Boles, David Conradson, Stephen Healy and Alison Watkins, as well as participants at Cultivate Christchurch and Life in Vacant Spaces.

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Næss, P. and K.G. Høyer (2009), ‘The emperor’s green clothes: Growth, decoupling, and capitalism’, Capitalism Nature Socialism, 20 (3), 74–95. Oyesanya, M., J. Lopez-Morinigo and R. Dutta (2015), ‘Systematic review of suicide in economic recession’, World Journal of Psychiatry, 5 (2), 243–254. Purser, R. (2019), McMindfulness: How Mindfulness Became the New Capitalist Spirituality. London: Repeater. Raworth, K. (2017), Doughnut Economics: Seven Ways to Think Like a 21st-Century Economist. Hartford: Chelsea Green Publishing. Roelvink, G. and M. Zolkos (2015), ‘Affective ontologies: Post-humanist perspectives on the self, feeling and intersubjectivity’, Emotion, Space and Society, 14, 47–49. Rosa, H. (2018), Available, accessible, attainable: The mindset of growth and the resonance conception of the good life, in H. Rosa and C. Henning (eds), The Good Life Beyond Growth: New Perspectives. London: Routledge, pp. 39–53. Rostow, W.W. (1960), The Stages of Economic Growth: A Non-Communist Manifesto. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schmid, B. and T.S.J. Smith (2020), ‘Social transformation and postcapitalist possibility: Emerging dialogues between practice theory and diverse economies’, Progress in Human Geography. doi:​10​.1177/​0309132520905642. Sekulova, F., G. Kallis and F. Schneider (2017), Climate change, happiness and income from a degrowth perspective, in P.A. Victor and B. Dolter (eds), Handbook on Growth and Sustainability. Cheltenham, UK and Northampton, MA, USA: Edward Elgar Publishing, pp. 160–180. Sen, A. (1985), ‘Well-being, agency and freedom: The Dewey Lectures 1984’, The Journal of Philosophy, 82 (4), 169–221. Sepie, A. (2015), ‘Psychosocial wellbeing: Communities, families, youth and children (0-18 years): A literature review and qualitative analysis of psychosocial postdisaster adaptation considerations following the Canterbury sequence of earthquakes and aftershocks’. Christchurch, New Zealand: The Collaborative Trust for Research and Training in Youth Health and Development. Smith, T.S.J. (2019), ‘Therapeutic taskscapes and craft geography: Cultivating well-being and atmospheres of recovery in the workshop’, Social & Cultural Geography. https://​doi​.org/​10​.1080/​14649365​.2018​.1562088. Smith, T.S.J. and L. Reid (2018), ‘Which “being” in wellbeing? Ontology, wellness and the geographies of happiness’, Progress in Human Geography, 42 (6), 807–829. Tronto, J.C. (2017), ‘There is an alternative: Homines curans and the limits of neoliberalism’, International Journal of Care and Caring, 1 (1), 27–43. Waring, M. (1988), Counting for Nothing: What Men Value and What Women Are Worth. Wellington, NZ: Bridget Williams Books. White, S.C. (2017), ‘Relational wellbeing: Re-centring the politics of happiness, policy and the self’, Policy & Politics, 45 (2), 121–136.

7. Commentary to Part II: a wellbeing lens in practice Neil Thin This section of the book provides examples from a variety of qualitative research projects, in highly varied contexts around the world, aimed at contributing to our understanding of how wellbeing can be promoted and experienced in different contexts. Some are about ‘interventions’ with a salient focus on wellbeing, while others simply try to apply a wellbeing lens to understanding people’s experiences of social contexts, physical environments, and social changes. How can qualitative researchers produce knowledge that will inspire better practices that promote wellbeing? Or is the main value rather in the process of conducting considerate, empathic, wellbeing-focused research? Perhaps being asked about wellbeing is intrinsically rewarding, beyond any eventual usefulness of research output? What does it mean to make wellbeing more salient as an organizing concept or principle in policies, plans, activities, and evaluations? How well does this very broad and diverse idea translate between different contexts, individuals, sectors, and ethnicities? Many have tried to address these kinds of practice questions by recommending specific operational definitions and measures of wellbeing in general, or of particular kinds of dimensions of wellbeing. In my own work, rather than trying to force definitions of something so elusive and diverse, I have found it more helpful and persuasive to think in terms of a ‘happiness lens’ or a ‘wellbeing lens’ (Thin, 2020). When we highlight wellbeing, how does this shift our attention, colour our attitudes, or influence our priorities? I have argued that it is fairly easy to identify three main features of the wellbeing lens: positivity, empathy, and life integration. Of these three, it is very clear that empathy was a key driver of the research conducted by contributors to this section. But positivity and life integration, though less salient, can be discerned here too. As a three-part analytical device, the moral and practical importance of the wellbeing lens is fairly easy to grasp. To think about wellbeing means to consider in a positive or aspirational light what it means for lives to go well, beyond thinking about coping with stresses or making ends meet. And since each individual has their own idiosyncratic motivations and experiences, it 104

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also means to put yourself empathically in other people’s shoes, imagining how someone else might feel good or evaluative their life positively. And third, to think about wellbeing entails looking at how the process of living well is composed. Research on wellbeing must be holistic and must look at long-term narratives, exploring the complex interactions and complementarities through which people’s lives are composed – how various bits of people’s lives fit together and evolve through the life course. It is less obvious whether and how this wellbeing lens actually influences applied research or social planning, or how we might encourage it to do so. Does positivity require us to shift resources away from remedial work, and focus more on the enhancement of lives that are already going well? In contexts of mass suffering this would seem a morally suspect conclusion. Statistical happiness research worldwide has shown us that rich countries all have very similar aggregate happiness scores, showing that there is little scope for deliberate enhancement of lives that are already going well. In poor and unstable countries, by contrast, there is a wide range of individual and aggregate scores, indicating that our best prospect for raising world happiness is to focus on relieving the suffering of poorer people in poorer countries. In this section you will read about the wellbeing of war widows, prisoners, drug addicts, domestic abuse victims, minority religious groups, and disadvantaged children. On the face of it, the authors’ choice of these research subjects clashes uncomfortably with my expectation that a wellbeing lens implies ‘positivity’. The social science norm remains dominant, steering most of our attention towards disadvantaged people and social pathologies. Nonetheless, in each of the chapters a sincere effort has been made not only to look on these people as victims and sufferers. All subjects are given a decent chance to air their views on moments of happiness; on the experiences, relationships, and places they associate with wellbeing; and on aspirations and longer-term pursuits of wellbeing more generally. ‘Empathy’ is easy enough to cultivate in the mind, but it’s not obvious how planners can translate empathic insights into different plans. This is particularly problematic when working with extremely disadvantaged populations, whose suffering, lack of resources, social vulnerabilities, or disrupted education may have severely curtailed their vision of what kinds of life are possible. ‘Life integration’ similarly becomes a much more challenging concept as you shift from analysing wellbeing to thinking about what can be done. In a loose sense, it’s obviously important for planners to respect the fact that people’s lives are composed of multiple sources of wellbeing in many different domains that have important interaction effects. It’s also important to thinking about compositional wellbeing in narrative senses, paying heed to the unfolding stories of people’s lives. But what is a planner to do with this appreciation of compositional wellbeing?

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Although none of the chapters in Part II specifically uses this three-way system for analysing wellbeing in practice, it may be instructive to think about them as you read the chapters. After all, it is easy enough for scholars and planners to declare a central concern with wellbeing, but it is quite another to demonstrate that this choice has made any substantial difference to research or to planning or implementation. In fact, the awkward truth is that a great deal of ‘wellbeing’ discourse quickly reverts to looking mainly at illbeing, failing to pay serious attention to what goes really well in people’s lives. And similarly, the mere adoption of ‘wellbeing’ as a label offers no guarantee that people will use empathic insights strategically, or think in integrative ways about the whole of people’s lives. In this section, all the chapters help readers imagine how various people in diverse places aspire to live well, enjoy good experiences, and reflect both positively and negatively on different aspects of their lives and environments. Alfaro-Simmonds (Chapter 11) shows how urban planning could be significantly modified by learning from children’s own perspectives regarding their happiness. Based on empirical work in Lima, Peru, and on analysis of relevant research from elsewhere, she invites planners to see urban environments through children’s eyes, thinking about their perspectives in relation to their activities. In addition to survey questions, a photo mapping activity with 111 participants provided a rich set of visualizations that help us in a more literal way see what children see when they think about how urban surroundings allow them to be happy. For example, both the accessibility of public places (whether or not there were formal barriers to entry) and feelings of security were highlighted as key concerns by many children. Also, whereas adult-focused urban planning has tended to emphasize ‘comfort’ as the main environmental contribution to urban quality of life, adoption of children’s perspective shifts more attention towards a variety of experiences deriving from interactions between social and physical environments – including their gradual interactive development of a sense of belonging and identity, and their ability to have different kinds of active and more passive ‘fun’ in various kinds of natural and built environments. The research on children’s experiences in urban public space by Alfaro-Simmonds shows the importance for planners to consider the life course as a crucial way of appreciating the interactions that produce wellbeing or illbeing. Children’s feelings about their environments develop over the long term (e.g. attachment to familiar public spaces where they feel safe) and change through different phases of childhood (for example, fear of outdoor urban space may dominate more in early childhood, whereas in adolescence the attraction of being free to hang out in shopping malls may become a more salient interest).

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An emphasis on absolute practical disadvantages is one kind of approach to understanding interactions between wellbeing and inequality. Górczyńska-Angiulli and Machline (Chapter 12) look at the wellbeing implications of housing inequalities in Luxembourg, asking how empowerment through citizen participation in housing planning could help develop housing that better promotes the wellbeing of disadvantaged populations. This emphasis on absolute practical disadvantages is one kind of approach to understanding interactions between wellbeing and inequality. The potential harms of socio-economic inequalities are assessed according to whether or not they cause practical deficits that damage people’s wellbeing. Although not explicitly explored in their chapter, this suggests an important set of linked considerations in the analysis of now wellbeing and inequality interact. Wellbeing can be enhanced through removal of practical material deficits, or through alleviation of the experience of unfairness or relative privation. Hence equalization can have instrumental value (getting rid of practical harms) or intrinsic value (improving social quality). These distinctions matter, because according to a ‘sufficientarian’ approach to egalitarian reforms, inequalities should only matter if they cause practical harms (Hirose, 2016). This position holds that if everyone had good-enough housing, it should be of little or no moral concern if some people have exceptionally wonderful housing. From a social wellbeing perspective, however, housing inequalities may matter also if they are experienced as unfair. If elites have superb houses that the rest of us can’t realistically aspire to, this indicates an intrinsically bad quality of the society we live in, even if everyone’s basic housing needs are met. So a significantly different approach to housing inequality research would be to shift some of our attention from the instrumental to the intrinsic value of equalization. It would involve paying attention not just to absolute deprivations but also to relative deprivations, and to the wellbeing value of social goods. If we can make society fairer and more considerate, this would have intrinsic value over and above any benefits that ensue from the removal of harmful deficits. Everyone’s wellbeing is connected through the social fabric, and so when equalization works well, everyone benefits. Social wellbeing is good if, for most people, society feels reasonably equal and fair. In this perspective, unfair inequality is intrinsically bad, not just a potential source of harmful disadvantages. And conversely, fairness has intrinsic value for everyone, over and above its practical usefulness for disadvantaged people. Using this additional perspective we might ask of researchers studying inequality whether particular kinds of inequality, in specific contexts, are mainly a concern because of their practical harms, or because of their role in signalling and constituting unfairness. Górczyńska-Angiulli and Machline hint at the importance of an integrative approach to wellbeing when they discuss the ‘life-domain approach to well-

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being’ which, for example, looks at how the ‘housing’ domain interacts with other domains. They note that, for example, housing–health interactions may be all that is considered in policy discourses, implying that it remains rare for planners to give holistic consideration to the multiple ways in which housing interacts with other sources and experiences of wellbeing. A life course approach is somewhat more explicit in Fazeeha Azmi’s (Chapter 9) account of how war widows in Sri Lanka develop their thoughts on wellbeing through the long years of recovery from traumatic bereavement and the strains of single motherhood. Understandably, the accounts of interviews with her three informants mainly focus on the scope women have for minimizing or coping with illbeing, rather than actively pursuing excellent lives. There is no reason, of course, to believe that these war widows will never flourish, but in any situation, let alone one of continued instabilities and financial challenges, recovery from sudden bereavement leaves little scope for dreaming beyond basic needs. Strenuous efforts to ensure that their children receive a good education do, however, indicate longer-term aspirations even if these are transferred down a generation. Fabio Tartarini (Chapter 8) also writes about a category of people with very limited scope for thinking aspirationally about flourishing. Wellbeing, he argues, is something given all too little consideration by people charged with looking after prisoners. Nonetheless, he makes a strong case for more considerate facilitation of prisoners’ wellbeing with a view to helping them ‘flourish’ even while in prison. This is of course something that would be good in itself, while also giving prisoners a better chance of longer-term rehabilitation. Based on qualitative analysis of conversations with prisoners about their prison experiences and their hopes, his chapter achieves the empathic perspective that is one of the hallmarks of a wellbeing approach. Noteworthy here is that although perhaps inevitably prisoners talk more about their deficits and sufferings than about their joys (prison life is ‘painful and traumatic’ in general, and based on a ‘series of deprivations’), this isn’t entirely a ‘downward-facing’ empathy. The researcher also hears of good experiences and aspirations, and discusses the aspirational ‘Good Lives Model of Rehabilitation’ and the potential for changes based on positive psychology that would enable prisoners to ‘flourish’. Another account of the pursuit of wellbeing in the face of severe life challenges is provided in the chapter by Gittins, Wynne-Jones and Morrison (Chapter 13), who present findings from their study of 120 adults who participated in therapeutic nature-based interventions in Welsh woodlands. For a variety of reasons (mental illness, drug abuse, domestic violence) all were in need of long-term remedial therapy. In other words, this is quite distinct from the mass of general research on wellbeing and nature, much of which focuses on short-term recuperation and moods, or on longer-term wellbeing of the general population. Yet it is quite possible to discern here lessons about

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the rehabilitative experience of relatively wild nature that are of relevance to mainstream populations. Finally, Laura Kapinga and Bettina Bock (Chapter 10) look at how religion (identity, belonging, worship, buildings) can strengthen wellbeing by facilitating social inclusion. They focus on the specific example of young Muslims in the Netherlands. This is not the same thing as some of the naïve survey-based claims that are sometimes made about religious people being happier in general (in general, religiosity correlates positively with self-reported happiness in religious cultures, but not in highly secularized cultures). More modestly, it shows the importance of looking for ways in which provision of opportunities for religious participation can be helpful to some people even in highly secularized societies. Overall, these chapters exemplify a modest and suitably cautious use of a wellbeing lens in practice-relevant qualitative social research. They show that the ‘positivity’ of the wellbeing lens need not be all about a dramatic shift towards research on people who flourish. More modestly, it might be better understood as an insistence that even when we work with extremely disadvantaged populations, we should discuss and plan with them in appreciative and aspirational ways – paying attention to what goes right in their lives, and to their hopes and prospects for living really good lives rather than just surviving and avoiding misery.

REFERENCES Hirose, I. (2016), ‘Axiological sufficientarianism’, in C. Fourie and A. Rid (eds), What is Enough? Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 51‒68. Thin, N. (2020), A Research Agenda for Social Wellbeing. Cheltenham, UK and Northampton, MA, USA: Edward Elgar Publishing.

8. Prisoners’ rehabilitation and wellbeing: a psychosocial perspective Fabio Tartarini INTRODUCTION The criminological literature has shown the painful nature of the ‘total institution’ (Goffman, [1957]1999) and painted a concerning picture in relation to the effects of imprisonment. Prison practices and procedures affect the liveability of this experience and prisoners’ wellbeing in the delivery of prisons’ objectives: incapacitation, punishment, and rehabilitation (HMPPS, 2018, p.5). A growing body of evidence is highlighting the connections between wellbeing and rehabilitation, in prison and the Criminal Justice System at large. According to proponents of the Good Lives Model (see Laws and Ward, 2011) rehabilitative interventions should also support the flourishing of individuals in order to promote positive life changes. Within this theoretical framework, this chapter draws on an original short longitudinal study on the effects of imprisonment in the conceptualisation and experiences of wellbeing in prison, and its effects on the process of human flourishing. It highlights the importance of adopting a critical psychosocial approach in research with marginalised populations (that is, affected by a wide range of problems including, but not limited to, discrimination, psychophysiological health, and social deprivation). Person and environment are inextricably interdependent and the study of their interplay has been long considered fundamental to the understanding of individual behaviours (see Lewin, 1936). The psychosocial approach is therefore necessary to understand the psychological and social dynamics of lived experience in light of their specific contexts and intersubjective relationships (Woodward, 2015). This epistemological framework should inform interventions which support prisoners’ wellbeing as a key target of rehabilitation.

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PRISONS AND THE CRISIS OF WELLBEING Suicides and self-harm in Western European prisons occur at higher rates than in Australia, Canada, and New Zealand (Fazel et al., 2011, 2017). In the year running up to December 2018, self-harm and self-inflicted deaths in prisons of England and Wales increased respectively 23 per cent from the year before (52,814 total incidents) and 30 per cent (92 total incidents) (Ministry of Justice 2019b), with 1.1 deaths per 1,000 prisoners in 2019 – rising from about 0.7 deaths per 1,000 prisoners in 2008 (HM Government, 2019). These figures are five to six times, and up to 20 times higher than those for the male and female general population respectively (Health and Social Care Committee, 2018; Ministry of Justice, 2019a; Woodall and Freeman, 2019). They signal an overall decline in prisoners’ levels of wellbeing and imply the institution’s severance in their duty of care. While personal factors and imported vulnerabilities like previous suicide attempts, self-harm, and psychiatric treatment (Liebling, 1999; Liebling et al., 2005) are important factors, individuals’ levels of health and wellbeing are additionally affected by the pains and traumas experienced in prison (Sparks et al., 1996), rendering everyone inside vulnerable (Medlicott, 2001; Sim, 2018). Negative prison environments have deleterious effects on previously healthy individuals: mental health can be seriously damaged in overcrowded and violent prisons; where prisoners lack privacy, are not provided adequate health services, and have access to illicit drugs (Blaauw and Van Marle, 2007; Durcan, 2008; Fruehwald et al., 2003, 2004; HMIP, 2019; Mann et al., 2019; Woodall et al., 2014). In addition, the forced idleness and lack of stimulation found in various institutions (National Audit Office, 2017) can initiate a downward spiral where negative emotions and resulting thinking patterns feed on each other, worsening prisoners’ mental state, and leading to episodes of violence, self-harm, and suicide (see Garland et al., 2010). Prisoners experience a series of pains deriving from deprivations typical of the total institutions like the deprivation of liberties, goods, and services, or staff use of power (Crewe, 2011; Sykes, 1958). Their identity is undermined through the highly structured rituals of punishment which strip them of and attack their sense of self (Goffman, 1961; Maruna, 2011); its architecture (Moran et al., 2016); and the shattering of the ‘web of meaning’ prisoners built around themselves with the social identities created around work, family, and other social relationships (see Cohen and Taylor, 1972). Prison experience results in a ‘meaningless, tormenting, traumatising, terrorising, humiliating and degrading’ experience (Sim, 2018, pp.244‒245). What emerges from the literature is that current prison practices are unfit for the promotion and support of mental health. The adoption of a positive approach to health and wellbeing

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is a necessary step to improve the delivery of the duty of care and, in addition, support the rehabilitation of prisoners (Woodall and Freeman, 2019). The Case for a Positive Approach to Wellbeing in Prison Research on total institutions shows that positive psychological interventions support individuals with suicidal thoughts or behaviours (Huffman et al., 2014). For example, inpatients in healthcare settings are more likely to expand their coping and resiliency strategies when engaging in therapies aimed to develop positive mental states, rather than risk-centred deficit-reduction (Kelliher Rabon et al., 2018). However, the effectiveness of such interventions depends on the successful translation of positive mental health into more positive emotions – as these can lead to further personal growth and expansion of personal repertoires (Teismann et al., 2019). Equally important is the increase in the sense of self-determination: the feeling of being in charge of one’s life, autonomous, and supported (see Deci and Ryan, 2002). The presence of these factors can defuse suicidal ideation as the resulting experience of wellbeing prevents a downward spiral of negative emotions and associated negative psychological processes (Bureau et al., 2012). Similarly, positive prison environments where security, wellbeing, development opportunities, and harmony are present are more survivable than others (Liebling, 2011). This in turn can lead to a culture that is more rehabilitative and provides space for self-reflection and personal development (Perrin and Blagden, 2014). Supporting offenders’ achievement of valued primary human goods (for example, life, excellence in play, work and agency, relatedness) leads to a satisfactory and fulfilling life which promotes human flourishing (here defined as ‘feeling good and doing well’; Huppert and Cooper, 2019, p.1) and the intrinsic motivation to engage in rehabilitation (Laws and Ward, 2011; Mann et al., 2004; Ward and Brown, 2004). However, the realisation of these goals is conditional on a cultural shift in the role prisons fulfil in our societies: from places of deterrence, punishment, and reform to places of enablement and empowerment (Woodall et al., 2014). The current wellbeing crisis can be contrasted by putting wellbeing at the centre of prison’s objectives and adopting an approach that is ‘more strategic and comprehensive, rather than opportunistic’ (Woodall and Freeman, 2019, p.9). This chapter supports and contributes to the empirical basis needed for this change. It draws on a research project exploring prisoners’ conceptualisations of what constitutes human flourishing in prison, the related social and structural limitations, and the role of wellbeing in this process. In particular, the next sections explore how prisoners conceptualise wellbeing in prison: the smooth sentence; feeling human; and maintaining a positive identity. These will be discussed together with the strategies adopted to establish sustained

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levels of wellbeing (for example, getting into a routine, avoiding troubles, managing social relationships, and defining a social bubble).

A SHORT LONGITUDINAL STUDY OF WELLBEING IN AN ENGLISH PRISON The study reported in this chapter adopted a short longitudinal design to reconstruct the temporal psychosocial dynamics of human flourishing (Farrall, 2006). The fieldwork took place between May and November 2015 in an English category B local prison, housing individuals flowing from local area courts (sentenced or on remand; Ministry of Justice, 2019b). An opportunistic sample (N=40) was identified and interviewed (on average one hour). Two months later, 25 interviewees participated in the follow up stage and were interviewed at least a second time, totalling 84 interviews. This methodological choice helped to explore eventual changes in prisoners’ wellbeing and increased data reliability (Seidman, 2006). Interviewees were given a pseudonym and any sensitive information was edited to ensure anonymity. Interviews have been analysed adopting the Adaptive Theory framework (Layder, 2013) and drawing from psychological theories of Human Flourishing selected through a systematic literature review. The orienting wellbeing concepts adopted were: Positive emotions, Engagement, positive Relationships, Meaning, and Achievement (PERMA model; Seligman, 2011), and environmental mastery, personal growth, autonomy (Psychological Wellbeing model; Ryff, 1989). Before outlining the definitions of human flourishing and wellbeing, it is fundamental to state the first and most fundamental finding: interviewees’ unanimous scepticism about prisons as places of human flourishing. In an environment like this, you are oppressed.… It takes all the decisions away from you, it takes your identity away from you, and how can you flourish if you are just a prison number? (Charles, first interview) There is no good life in prison man… There's that one thing they took away from me: freedom. (Ian, second interview) You can’t make a good life, you could just have the same life, over and over again… You can only make it as good… as certain restrictions have let you…. It’s as good as the officers will let you have it. And it’s as good as what you want it to be. (Mark, third interview)

Prison was considered an arid environment in its inherent contraposition with the opportunities on the outside: the loss of freedom, the everyday prison practices and interactions, the dependency on staff for the satisfaction of basic needs, the regimented structure of the day were all quintessential symbolic signifiers of the powerless condition and role of prisoner. This juxtaposition between life inside and outside inevitably led to reinforcing the feelings of

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‘irrefutable discordance’ (Gallagher, 2015 p.33) between society and the captive world: participants considered their life to be on hold until after release (see Cohen and Taylor, 1972) and, with it, their human flourishing. The pains and stresses experienced directed prisoners’ concerns to the more pressing need to adjust to this environment and secure sustained levels of wellbeing. Wellbeing as the Smooth Sentence Time was one of the most important factors characterising the experience of imprisonment. On entering the prison, the meaning of time was altered and became something to be served and passed, rather than enjoyed (see Cohen and Taylor, 1972; Crewe et al., 2020; O’Donnell, 2014). Prisoners unable to cope with idleness were stuck in a vicious cycle of boredom, rumination, anguish, and hopelessness. The contrast between the ‘eventfulness of life outside prison and emptiness of prison routine’ (Toch, 1977, p.29) painfully slowed time down when prisoners were just ‘clock watching’ (Steve). ‘Killing the bird’ (that is, making time pass) became a way to resist this punitive imposition and avoid the period of incarceration to ‘become a longer sentence’ (Norman), especially when time was unstructured. Prisoners tried to focus on the achievement of discernible targets that could reinstate a sense of ‘eventfulness’ and linear progression into the mundanity of prison life, whilst facilitating the passage of time. These activities included going to work, reading books, gaining qualifications: I focus on my work, that’s how I get through my prison. I use my work to get out of prison, because when I’m cleaning or when I’m doing something, [I’m] not focussing on where I am, I’m focussing on what I’m doing. I’m doing [it at] the best of my ability at that task and that takes you out of prison. (Charles, fifth interview)

Prisoners ‘forgot about prison’ when fully absorbed in activities whose physical and psychological demands reduced the cognitive resources and time available to ruminate. The resulting experience was one of psychological escape from the physical constraints and frustrations of the environment (see also Cohen and Taylor, 1972; Crewe et al., 2020). Prisoners described these experiences as being in a ‘flow’, where time disappeared and they felt in control of the situation, safe, and disembodied. This dissociation from the prison’s limitations (in time and space) provided a psychological temporary buffer against its negativity. The resulting positive emotions led to an improvement in prisoners’ levels of wellbeing (Fredrickson et al., 2000, 2003; Fredrickson

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and Levenson, 1998) and a halo effect that ameliorated the lived experience of imprisonment through time: … if you worked 5 hours, going home after a shift, so when I go back to my pad, it’s like I were on the outside. coming back from work I’d be going home and I’d read my book before bed, you’d have your last meal or whatever you want to do. so in that sense from what I’ve gained in the kitchen I’ve taken away some of that empowerment through to my time in the pad. (Hugh Saint, third interview)

Keeping busy in proactive and positive ways promoted a sense of wellbeing interviewees described as ‘flow’ or the ‘smooth sentence’, especially when these elicited a sense of familiarity as in Hugh Saint’s example. Given the promising positive outcomes, prisoners identified sets of activities which, put together in clearly defined routines, helped to maintain the experience of flow through days, weeks, and months. Establishing a sound routine resulted in sustained levels of wellbeing and helped to prolong the experience of positive emotions by easing the weight of time and increasing prisoners’ mental capacity. The mental energies so gained enabled prisoners to fine-tune their daily routines and include activities reflective of personal values closer to dimensions of the self, values, or desired identity. In these situations, the shift undertaken was from behaviours aimed to survive and react to the prison pains, to routines and activities centred around valued approach goals, like personal development or leading a good life. Defining the Bubble Experiences of the ‘smooth sentence’ were conditional on the absence of attritions and disruptions within the social context. Violent environments disrupted prisoners’ routines and ability to make time flow as they were forced to spend longer periods of time behind their doors. This unpredictability affected prisoners negatively, as it inevitably increased levels of stress and fear over physical safety. Interviewer: What is a good day for you? The day without violence in prisons is a good day, to be honest with you. And the more you can have those good days, the more happy you should be. (Ian, fourth interview) If I’ve had a good phone call and it’s gone good at work and there’s probably a good film I’m looking forward to later on, on TV, and there’s been no dramas on the wing… Just having a normal day in prison to be honest, with no stress. (Clint, first interview)

As Ian and Clint show, the elevated contextual unpredictability increased their need to find a sense of normality¸ with some sense of predictability and stabil-

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ity. Prisoners tried to exert some control by managing their environments and create a safe haven. This psychological and physical space echoed Seymour’s concept of ‘niche’ (1992): ‘a functional subsetting containing objects, space, resources, people and relationship between people. A niche is perceived as ameliorative; it is seen as a potential instrument for the relaxation of stress and the realization of required ends’ (p.181). The best environments were those with limited disruptions to the experience of flow. Prisoners sought more positive experiences and the maximisation of opportunities to buffer from prison stressors. Whilst prisoners could exert some levels of control over their daily routines, this was quite difficult in relation to social interactions and relationships. Prison’s pervasive control over social relationships was substantiated in the disruption of pre-existing social relationships, the power inequalities with staff, and the forced closeness with strangers. Social interactions reiterated the sense of powerlessness and lack of control initiated with imprisonment impinging on the positive emotions needed to maintain a sense of flow. Furthermore, compared to activities promoting the flow, social relationships were less predictable and had the potential to suddenly disrupt the smooth flowing of prisoners’ daily lives (for example, prisoners’ bullying, ‘Dear John’ letters, and so on). For this reason, prisoners adopted behavioural strategies to reduce the sense of powerlessness and pains associated to social interactions with staff, outside contacts, and other prisoners: … when I go into prison I just go into a bubble, just try not to think too much about outside. Just concentrate on the day to day in prison, you know every day is more or less the same, you know you get up you do your bit of work, have an hours kip, tea, tea time, it’s just a circle… I am not interested in what they [my mates] are doing, drinking and don’t need to know. That’s not going to make me feel better… if I see them once a year that will do me, they keep in touch. (Paul, first interview)

Identifying and defining a ‘bubble’, as Paul indicates, was instrumental to improving levels of wellbeing: living in harmony with others, within a more predictable environment, facilitated a smoother experience of imprisonment and, as it will be shown in the next sections, favoured the reacquisition of a sense of humanity. Feeling Human Following imprisonment, the identities imported from the outside lost their purpose as a result of the physical separation from the social domains and functional contexts giving them meaning: individuals were stripped of the ‘identity materials’ that defined them and were associated to the roles they fulfilled on the outside, such as fathers, partners, friends (see Crewe et al.,

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2020; Garfinkel, 1956; Goffman, 1961; Sykes, 1958). Consequently, social interactions were more likely to affect prisoners’ sense of self at a deeper level. Interactions reflecting the typical scripts associated with bad staff–prisoner relationships, such as staff exhibiting negative attitudes and behaving unprofessionally, led to feelings of powerlessness and hopelessness. Prisoners’ sense of self and self-worth were consequentially mortified, leading to painful feelings of dehumanisation (see Capps, 2016; Goffman [1961], 2006): in prison… you start feeling like an animal.… because you’re always called by your surname it kind of strips away your humanity… giving me the odd ‘thank you for doing things’ one of them simple things it makes you feel human… That’s what it is ultimately about, being in prisons… you’re not just another prisoner, you’re not just another statistic, you’re not just a criminal, you’re a human being with dreams and ambitions…. with feelings and whatever else. (Hugh Saint, third interview)

As Hugh Saint indicates, being treated like a prisoner was dehumanising as it reiterated the irrelevance of his individuality and personality. Staff behaviour affects individuals’ perception of their self (Butler and Drake, 2007; Liebling, assisted by Arnold, 2004), has particular significance in relation to personal identity and the ensuing sense of wellbeing: social and personal identities are constructed in social interactions and affected by how individuals feel perceived by others through the ‘looking-glass’ (see Cooley, 1902). As shown in the literature on social psychology, the sense of self and social identities do not exist in isolation and depend on the social context to be validated (see Bizumic et al., 2009; Hogg and Vaughan, 2018). The stripping down of pre-existing social identities experienced at the beginning of imprisonment left prisoners struggling to regain a sense of self which went beyond the role of prisoner. Given the consequential effect of self-perception on wellbeing (see Haslam, 2014; Haslam et al., 2009), prisoners put in place strategies to limit these negative experiences and foster a sense of wellbeing originating from feeling human again. Interviewees identified members of staff who were more supportive and were more likely to break from scripts that relied on power imbalances. The social bubbles so defined contributed to the definition and reinforcement of prisoners’ identities and led to feeling recognised and treated humanely. In this respect, being the recipient of gestures of recognition was antithetical to the dehumanising experiences earlier described: prisoners felt seen and this, indirectly, signalled their sense of worth. … it was a really sunny day and one of the managers brought out some ice lollies for us. You can get so much enjoyment for the little things like an ice lolly. I felt like I’m not in prison, I’m having a nice ice lolly with the lads, having a cigarette in the nice sun and… it was nice! Staff treats you differently. and you don’t feel

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the way that you feel on the wings… and that’s them little things that people do for you… it’s just those little times when you just ask somebody how you’re doing, is everything alright, you know? that makes you feel human in a sense! (Hugh Saint, second interview)

The support and demonstrations of appreciation like those here described pierced through the negative traits associated with the stigma of being a prisoner, touching upon dimensions of self and identity that were peripheral in everyday interactions. The quality and nature of these social relationships provided the ground upon which prisoners could regain not only a sense of humanity but also the validation of their positive identities, boosting their self-esteem and overall wellbeing. In this respect, the management of social relationships echoed the behaviour of Schopenhauer’s porcupines (Schopenhauer, [1851]2015): the social bubbles prisoners defined, maximised the potential benefits of social relationships with a healthy distance from their harmful consequences. Two main approaches were adopted in the mustering of these benefits: avoidant and approach strategies. The first ones were aimed at the creation of distance from others and consisted in avoiding troubles and cutting off relationships. Mottos like ‘keep your nose clean’, ‘keep a low profile’ and ‘keep yourself to yourself’ encapsulated the efforts made to avoid troubles with staff and other prisoners: The only way I flourish in this jail is by doing what I want to do, keep myself to myself and do my job properly, get down my dorm, and just ignore the screws. (Smurf, first interview) Just keep yourself to yourself, don’t get in trouble, don’t get in debt with anybody, don’t be cheeky or don’t rob from people’s pads, do you know, stuff like that… just keep yourself to yourself and not get in trouble like in bother with people. (Law, first interview)

Smurf and Law’s avoidance of behaviours like stealing and grassing onto others contributed to the definition of a social bubble where troublemakers and potential attritions were kept away or at least limited. These strategies were mostly used in situations where forced closeness to others, like prisoners and staff, meant that negative interactions were highly likely and unavoidable. When it was possible to remove these sources of pain and negative emotions from their niche, prisoners adopted more drastic measures and culled social relationships. The thinning of social connections typically occurred when relationships became persistently hurtful or interviewees felt unequipped to

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deal with the potential future pains of strained and painful connections. This strategy was mostly adopted with family and friends. If you write to them [family and friends] you always expect a letter back from them, and you always you get wound up more easily if it takes that little bit longer or the post gets delayed in the mail or if it just takes more time to reply… I always make sure that when I come to jail I’ve got no girlfriend or I’m not in a relationship in any way because you’re always worrying about them, they’re cheating on you or what not so… over the last 10‒11 years… I’ve just been sitting in my pad… basically going mad. (Craig, third interview C)

Maintaining social ties with the outside, whilst a source of positive emotions and a protective factor against suicide and self-harm (Borrill et al., 2005; Liebling, 1992; Marzano et al., 2016), left prisoners vulnerable to the uncertainties of relationship breakdowns. In the absence of effective coping strategies, negative thoughts found fertile ground in rumination and, together with negative emotions, led to a downward spiral of wellbeing and emotions. Limiting or completely cutting off these interactions represented an effective solution: it helped prisoners to focus on coping by increasing environmental predictability and their feelings of control whilst reducing potential setbacks and anxieties. One downside of these avoidant strategies was the consequential loss of valuable social capital and emotional support. For this reason, the avoidant strategies here discussed were often counterbalanced with approach ones: these helped prisoners to define niches which could grant the reaping of the benefits of positive social interactions. This set of behaviours, which will be outlined in the next section, besides improving wellbeing levels, supported the satisfaction of a third definition of wellbeing: maintaining a positive identity. Maintaining a Positive Identity The fine balance between approach and avoidant strategies contributed to the formation of social bubbles positively contributing to self-perception and wellbeing: if you go to work… it gives you time to interact with other inmates of different wings. You can come back feeling something different… if you’ve got a good work environment and good lads, you are going to get good work done and nothing’s going to go wrong. But you start getting idiots in there and they just start messing everything up. (Clint, first interview A)

Clint’s routine and social bubble were focused on his daily work in one of the workshops, away from the wing, and together with ‘good lads’. This and similar social bubbles were quite often geographically defined spaces and

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became poles of attraction for prisoners with similar underlying affinities and personal motivations and ambitions. Clint’s bubble was the result of avoidance and approach strategies: he identified a workshop where he could experience flow on a regular basis (that is, routine) and actively selected prisoners committed to this objective: ‘I pulled the lads in… got our own little table’ (First interview). Belonging to groups constituted by members bearing positive characteristics such as being light-hearted, hard workers, or good prisoners, reinforced prisoners’ positive identity, besides supporting the experience of the ‘smooth sentence’. For example, Clint’s bubble was made by people willing to work rather than being ‘idiots’ looking for reasons to fight or bully. The resulting positive self-image, reflected through this membership, defined new or sustained already existing positive identities, strengthening individuals’ sense of worth. The incorporation of outside contacts into social bubbles had various positive outcomes as it led to positive emotions and the maintenance of a positive identity. It meant prisoners could embrace behavioural scripts centred on pre-existing social identities, eschewed from those characteristic of prison; they could also shape the qualitative nature of these niches by actively selecting the information they wished to share, as this social bubble was situated in a psychological space outside of prison and away from its idiosyncrasies: it provided a safe context to talk about non-prison related matters and enjoy a sense of normality. External contacts served as historical repositories for interviewees’ pre-existing identities, providing a temporal escape from the limiting impositions of the role of prisoner. Some prisoners kept interactions centred on positive events and personal traits: I’d tell them [my family] anything that has happened on a positive note, say perhaps I've been to the gym and I’ve lifted more than I usually deal, or I ran a faster time than I usually do or, like with my distance learning courses and things telling them how I’m getting on with them. (Steve 2, first interview)

By selectively sharing his positive or proudest moments, Steve ensured the looking-glass self, reflected through interactions with his family, reinforced the positive dimensions of his identity and the resulting positive emotions could provide a temporary escape from prison. Prisoners also sought the inclusion in their social bubble of contacts who could validate their personal change, including outside connections but also other prisoners and members of staff. Historical relationships represented one of the main sources of approval for personal change and newly achieved dimensions of the self: … when I came to jail I couldn’t read and write and my dad says now ‘not only does he write, he writes good’… and it’s great to get that feedback from my family. ‘I can’t believe the way you actively understand things from a constructive

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argument or [write] a complete sentence which is clear and concise’… that’s a big journey to do. Very big journey. (Charles, first interview)

In Charles’ case, the reactions of significant others provided a litmus test necessary to validate the personal change he had accomplished through his life sentence: family reactions, with their historical memory of his past self, were particularly significant and reinforced the pride he felt about his personal development. Social relationships provided a validation for prisoners’ social identities and reinforced a positive sense of self. Similarly, associating with other prisoners provided a litmus test for personal change: I think the reaction of other people around you show that you’re flourishing because if you’ve been a horrible person, people don’t want to be near, people don’t want to associate, not all correct people want to associate with you, like for like. if you’ve been bad, bad surrounds you. If you’re trying to do good, you know, and you can recognise in others, then you recognise that’s the sort of people you've around you. (Charles, second interview)

Beyond the feedback from the family, the social environments and social circles belonging to his bubble also revealed his positive progression: Charles considered the association with this prosocial crowd a confirmation of his own betterment. Similarly, the social approval from staff inhabiting prisoners’ social bubbles had a significative symbolic effect, especially when prisoners held them in high regard. This positive effect was consequential to the closeness to staff members who showed positive attitudes towards prisoners and were particularly supportive (see Auty and Liebling, 2019). [a member of staff told me:] ‘I’d rather keep you as the older prisoner’s rep because you’re doing a good job in that role’. And I felt quite sort of pleased that somebody else thought I was doing a good job as well. And the fact that it wasn’t another prisoner, it was actually a member of staff, I thought: ‘My, that’s good. I am doing something useful.’ And in doing that, they’re adding it to my sentence plan, which must be a good thing. (Jo, second interview)

Jo’s compliance and friendliness with members of staff, together with his role as old prisoners’ representative, paid off: this closeness and efforts were rewarded with social approval, leading to positive emotions of pride and practical support in his sentence progression. Similarly, the engagement in prosocial roles at odds with the current identity of prisoner or past identities provided positive forms of validation. A good example was provided by those interviewees who kept ties with their families

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and kids on the outside, ensuring they were present by fulfilling their role of family men to the best of their abilities: Interviewer: What is flourishing for you? Getting money, as much as I can and as easy as I can… providing for my kids makes me happy… while I am here if I can make their lives a bit easier that’s all… I do feel warm and I know I have bought them something or they have got this trip and it’s all covered. (Steve, second interview)

The enactment of a prosocial role, antithetic to that of prisoner, symbolically signalled Steve’s commitment to and reinforced his positive identity. This symbolic process supported and was supported by a virtuous cycle: the activities undertaken to be present with his family and kids were socially recognised and validated his role as family man and provider; in return this role motivated him to undertake actions consonant to the maintenance of this role. This virtuous cycle (see Bishop, 2015) provided prisoners with well-defined series of activities, like calling home, writing letters, and working, as well as role scripts (for example, providing for the family) that substantiated their positive identities. Similarly, prosocial interactions with other prisoners had a similar scope: enacting upon selected dimensions of the self reinforced a positive identity and validated prisoners’ sense of personal progression. Interviewer: What do you think is a good life in prison? For myself, that’s helping myself, and helping others to do better. That makes me feel good… Interviewer: What do you do to make yourself feel better? I do this insider role to help others.… when they first come into prison. If it’s their first time… a lot of them have emotional difficulties and they don’t know where the library is, if there even is a library here, etcetera… the gym, you know. They don’t know what they can do, what they can’t do. And I just help them adjust really… and try to encourage them to keep active, like going to the gym and keep their mind active, by visiting the library, or, taking their education on. And then once they’ve settled in, I try and encourage them to see how they can use this time constructively to benefit them when they get out. Because we’re all here for a reason. But it doesn’t have to be, like your life being on pause, you can do something while you’re here. (Steve 2, fourth interview)

What Steve 2 described was the ending point of his successful adaptation to imprisonment: he started by keeping busy going to the gym, studying, and working, to experience a ‘smooth sentence’. He further defined a social bubble where he could feel human and re-gain the ability to focus on his self and experiment with new identities, by attending horticulture courses and working out in the gym. Supporting others was the quintessential demonstration of prisoners’ positive identity and symbolised a set of important changes: first, in

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supporting others, the feeling of humanity and worth were the result of prisoners’ self-directed agentic action rather than the outcome of incidental positive interactions with others. Second, the ability to effectively help others signalled the successful progression towards an altruistic and generative social identity. Third, providing support symbolically communicated to prisoners their successful survival and ability to cope with imprisonment. This also had a further positive effect as prisoners were now able to effectively control those pains of imprisonment they initially struggled with. Finally, experimenting with the role of support provider gave prisoners the possibility to perceive themselves in a prosocial light: successful interactions provided a tangible proof that their identity was moving further away from the imposed label of criminal, and contributed to prisoners’ hope of successful rehabilitation and reintegration as valuable members of society.

CONCLUSIONS This chapter has explored prisoners’ lived experience of imprisonment in a local Category B prison in England. It has highlighted the centrality of wellbeing and its effects on early stages of rehabilitation, as well as human flourishing. Coping with imprisonment and successfully navigating social relationships were key to initiating an upward spiral of positive emotions leading to a renewed sense of worth, mental space for self-reflection, and the possibility to maintain a positive identity. These results support recent calls to put wellbeing at the centre of rehabilitative practices (Laws and Ward, 2011; Mann et al., 2004; Ward and Mann, 2004; Ward and Stewart, 2003). Whilst they indicate some prisoners can progress in their process of human flourishing, they also highlight the need to adopt a systemic and critical approach to wellbeing research within prisons. First, as highlighted at the very beginning of this chapter, prisons are predominantly places of oppression, rather than of flourishing. Although prisoners demonstrated various levels of adjustment to this environment, by developing coping strategies and reaching sustained levels of wellbeing, prison’s negativity and painful experiences were still strongly present and limiting. Pains and deprivations affected all prisoners from the beginning of the sentence and led to reactive forms of coping; whilst these contributed to adaptation, they did very little to support prisoners’ rehabilitation or human flourishing. For example, in defining their niches, prisoners mostly focused on the immediate present: on passing time, by keeping busy; or to limit emotional pains, by avoiding or abruptly cutting off social connections. This approach was oftentimes consequential to the sense of hopelessness carried inside through and originating from prisoners’ imported vulnerabilities. Prisoners with limited coping abilities were mostly aiming at keeping busy, avoiding

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trouble, and getting through their sentence day by day. For them, imprisonment represented a moment of suspension in life which was not ameliorative: avoidance coping strategies and cutting off social relationships slimmed down prisoners’ social capital and, with it, the chances of successfully reintegrating back into society (Farrall, 2004). Second, this research shows that prisoners’ limited use of approach strategies is also linked to restrictions intrinsic to the prison environment. Prisons need to address the social and psychological harms they produce in order to promote wellbeing and foster human flourishing. Staff have a considerable role in this process: lack of support and dehumanising treatment, with their symbolisms, have serious repercussions when added to the pre-existing deleterious effects of captivity on mental health. A prison that wants to promote rehabilitation ought to act also at the symbolic level and limit the neglect of prisoners’ individuality by tailoring staff–prisoner interactions and activities to individuals’ dimensions of the self and personality (for example, values, goals, ambitions). Only in this way can prisons provide a nourishing environment, where prisoners feel respected and valued. Third, this research highlights the crucial role of identity in the process of human flourishing. Without a positive sense of self or identity neither higher levels of wellbeing nor human flourishing were barely achievable. Wellbeing research should dedicate more attention to the psychosocial dynamics linked to the construct of identity and congruently develop models of human flourishing which include these dimensions. A psychosocial theoretical framework would be the most logical choice, given the continuous negotiations of the sense of self in social situations and its inextricable link to wellbeing (Haslam et al., 2009). Finally, this chapter calls for a wellbeing research that is more biopsychosocial and multidisciplinary. Mainstream wellbeing theories, like those discussed in this chapter, have important shortcomings when considering populations usually falling at the margins of academic research. These theories miss the opportunity to effectively capture the wider range of factors affecting these social groups, including their subcultures – which inevitably affect human flourishing (see also Chapters 5 and 8 this volume). These shortcomings have implications for the prison population and the practices they are subjected to. The interventions promoted within the institution ought to account for prisoners’ imported vulnerabilities and identities which affect and mediate the success of prison practices in relation to rehabilitation and, as shown in this chapter, wellbeing levels. Without a fully developed body of research to draw from (and a more effective link between research and practice), prison regimes will keep perpetuating stagnation, disempowerment, and dehumanisation of prisoners rather than their wellbeing and full rehabilitation. Only within a criti-

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cal and multidisciplinary framework, can wellbeing research support practices that promote a type of human flourishing that is truly humanising and for all.

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HMPPS (2018), Her Majesty’s Prison and Probation Service Annual Report and Accounts 2017‒18. https://​www​.gov​.uk/​government/​publications/​hmpps​-annual​ -report​-and​-accounts​-2017​-18 (accessed 1 November 2020). Hogg, M. A. and G. M. Vaughan (2018), Social Psychology. Harlow: Pearson Education. Huffman, J. C., C. M. DuBois, B. C. Healy, J. K. Boehm, T. B. Kashdan, C. M. Celano, J. W. Denninger and S. Lyubomirsky (2014), ‘Feasibility and utility of positive psychology exercises for suicidal inpatients’, General Hospital Psychiatry, 36 (1), 88–94. Huppert, F. A. and C. L. Cooper (eds) (2019), Wellbeing: A Complete Reference Guide. Volume VI. Interventions and Policies to Enhance Wellbeing, Volume 53. New York: Wiley. Kelliher Rabon, J., J. K. Hirsch and E. C. Chang (2018), ‘Positive psychology and suicide prevention: An introduction and overview of the literature’, in J. K. Hirsh, E. C. Chang and J. Kelliher Rabon (eds), A Positive Psychological Approach to Suicide: Theory, Research, and Prevention. Dordrecht: Springer International Publishing, pp. 1–15. Laws, D. R. and T. Ward (2011), Desistance from Sex Offending: Alternatives to Throwing Away the Keys. New York: the Guilford Press. Layder, D. (2013), Doing Excellent Small-Scale Research. London: Sage Publications. Lewin, K. (1936), Principles of Topological Psychology. New York: McGraw-Hill. Liebling, A. (1992), Suicides in Prison. London: Routledge. Liebling, A. (1999), ‘Prison suicide and prisoner coping’, Crime and Justice, 26, 283–359. Liebling, A. (2011), ‘Moral performance, inhuman and degrading treatment and prison pain’, Punishment & Society, 13 (5), 530–550. Liebling, A., assisted by H. Arnold (2004), Prisons and Their Moral Performance: A Study of Values, Quality and Prison Life. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Liebling, A., S. Tait, L. Durie, A. Stiles and J. Harvey (2005), ‘An evaluation of the safer locals programme final report (assisted by Gerry Rose) Prisons Research Centre’, Initiatives, 2005 (January). Mann, R., G. Barnett, G. Box, F. F. Howard, O. O’Mara, R. Travers and H. Wakeling (2019), ‘Rehabilitative culture in prisons for people convicted of sexual offending’, in N. Blagden, B. Winder, K. Hocken, R. Lievesley, P. Banyard and H. Elliott (eds), Sexual Crime and the Experience of Imprisonment. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 1‒33. Mann, R. E., S. D. Webster, C. Schofield and W. L. Marshall (2004), ‘Approach versus avoidance goals in relapse prevention with sexual offender’, Sexual Abuse: A Journal of Research and Treatment, 16 (1), 65–75. Maruna, S. (2011), ‘Reentry as a rite of passage’, Punishment & Society, 13 (1), 3–28. Marzano, L., K. Hawton, A. Rivlin, E. N. Smith, M. Piper and S. Fazel (2016), ‘Prevention of suicidal behavior in prisons: An overview of initiatives based on a systematic review of research on near-lethal suicide attempts’, Crisis, 37 (5), 323–334. Medlicott, D. (2001), Surviving the Prison Place. Aldershot: Ashgate. Ministry of Justice (2019a), Safety in Custody Statistics, England and Wales Deaths in Prison Custody (September 2018), 1–12. https://​www​.gov​.uk/​government/​ collections/​safety​-in​-custody​-statistics (accessed 1 November 2020). Ministry of Justice (2019b), Your A‒D Guide on Prison Categories. https://​prisonjobs​ .blog​.gov​.uk/​your​-a​-d​-guide​-on​-prison​-categories/​ (accessed 23 October 2019).

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Moran, D., Y. Jewkes and J. Turner (2016), ‘Prison design and carceral space’, in Y. Jewkes, B. Crewe and J. Bennett (eds), Handbook on Prisons. London: Routledge, pp. 114–130. National Audit Office (2017), Mental Health in Prisons. London: National Audit Office, Her Majesty’s Prison & Probation Service. O’Donnell, I. (2014), Prisoners, Solitude, and Time. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Perrin, C. and N. Blagden (2014), ‘Accumulating meaning, purpose and opportunities to change “drip by drip”: The impact of being a listener in prison’, Psychology, Crime & Law, 20 (9), 902‒920. Ryff, C. D. (1989), ‘Happiness is everything, or is it? Explorations on the meaning of psychological well-being’, Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 57 (6), 1069–1081. Schopenhauer, A. ([1851]2015), Parerga and Paralipomena. Short Philosophical Essays, Volume 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Seidman, I. (2006), Interviewing as Qualitative Research: A Guide for Researchers in Education and the Social Sciences, Volume 3. New York: Teachers College Press. Seligman, M. E. P. (2011), Flourish. A Visionary New Understanding of Happiness and Well-Being. London: Nicholas Brealey Publishing. Seymour, J. (1992), ‘Niches in prison’, in Toch, H. (ed.), Living in Prison: The Ecology of Survival. New York: American Psychological Association, pp. 235‒238. Sim, J. (2018), ‘“Malignant reality”: Mental Ill-health and self-inflicted deaths in prisons in England and Wales’, in A. Mills and K. Kendall (eds), Mental Health in Prisons: Critical Perspectives on Treatment and Confinement. London: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 235–258. Sparks, R., A. Bottoms and W. Hay (1996), Prisons and the Problem of Order. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sykes, G. M. (1958), The Pains of Imprisonment. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Teismann, T., J. Brailovskaia and J. Margraf (2019), ‘Positive mental health, positive affect and suicide ideation’, International Journal of Clinical and Health Psychology, 19 (2), 165–169. Toch, H. (1977), Living in Prison: The Ecology of Survival. New York: Free Press. Ward, T. and M. Brown (2004), ‘The good lives model and conceptual issues in offender rehabilitation’, Psychology, Crime & Law, 10 (3), 243–257. Ward, T. and R. E. Mann (2004), ‘Good lives and the rehabilitation of offenders: A positive approach to sex offender treatment’, Positive Psychology in Practice, 4 (1), 238–239. Wiley Online Library. Ward, T. and C. Stewart (2003), ‘Criminogenic needs and human needs: A theoretical model’, Psychology, Crime & Law, 9 (2), 37–41. Woodall, J., N. de Viggiani, R. Dixey and J. South (2014), ‘Moving prison health promotion along: Towards an integrative framework for action to develop health promotion and tackle the social determinants of health’, Criminal Justice Studies, 27 (1), 114–132. Woodall, J. and C. Freeman (2019), ‘Promoting health and well-being in prisons: An analysis of one year’s prison inspection reports’, Critical Public Health, 1–12. Woodward, K. (2015), Psychosocial Studies. An Introduction. Abingdon: Routledge.

9. Gender and wellbeing in post-war Sri Lanka Fazeeha Azmi INTRODUCTION It is important that wellbeing research is relevant and appropriate to the particular setting in which it is to be applied. Researching the wellbeing of war widows is important in post-war reconstruction, reconciliation and peacebuilding activities. Policies and programmes designed to improve the lives of war widows would benefit from a deeper engagement with wellbeing research. In the literature on the gender dynamics of conflict in Sri Lanka, only a few studies highlight how war widows from different ethnicities within a country negotiate their own wellbeing. This chapter focuses on the stories of three war widows from the three main ethnicities who are differently affected by the 26-year war in Sri Lanka. It begins by outlining what approaches to and definitions of wellbeing are most relevant to the situations of war widows actively re-building their lives in a post-conflict situation. During the last two decades, wellbeing has been identified as a multidimensional and context-specific concept, rather than being associated only with material dimensions such as income (Chambers, 1997; McGregor, 2004; Gough et al., 2007; Camfield et al., 2009; McGregor and Sumner, 2010; Weeratunge et al., 2014; White and Blackmore, 2016; White, 2017). Wellbeing is now commonly viewed as a concept that combines objective and subjective dimensions, and takes into account social and cultural relationships. Among various contributions, Sen’s capabilities approach has been considered as a better framework to understand all aspects of human wellbeing (Clark, 2005). The concepts of ‘wellbeing’ along with ‘agency’, are central to the concept of Sen’s (1985) capabilities. Sen uses the term ‘functionings’ to identify wellbeing or ill being achievements or failures. According to Sen a person’s wellbeing includes a person’s current functioning and his or her freedom to function in alternative ways (Crocker and Robeyns, 2009). Sen identifies ‘capabilities’ as the real opportunities for functioning or freedom for functioning. However, capabilities are also shaped by a person’s objectives. 129

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The capabilities approach to wellbeing has informed feminist research on women’s empowerment. Kabeer (1994, 1999, 2005) reflects on the notion of wellbeing and women’s empowerment through the concepts of agency and achievements. She identifies that agency and resources are important for people’s capabilities. She refers to resources as access, as well as future accessibility to material human and social resources. Agency or ability to choose goes closely with the definition of freedom for functioning as put forward by Sen. Achievements according to Kabeer (1999) are wellbeing outcomes. Kabeer (2005) using the concept ‘transformative forms of agency’ claims that transformative agency is about women’s ability to question and challenge the structures of patriarchal constraints they face in their lives. Resources and agency are essential for anyone to navigate/enhance their wellbeing targets or objectives (achievements). In understanding wellbeing, the conceptual and methodological frameworks used by the University of Bath’s ESRC Research group on Wellbeing in Developing countries (WeD) approach have received considerable attention. The group defines wellbeing as ‘a state of being with others, where human needs are met, where one can act meaningfully to pursue one’s goals, and where one enjoys a satisfactory quality of life’ (WeD, 2007, p.1). The notion of wellbeing advocated by the WeD research group identifies three dimensions that encompasses material, relational and subjective wellbeing (Gough et al., 2007; McGregor et al., 2007; White, 2010). The objective outcome of wellbeing is called material wellbeing which is related to human capital and identified as ‘capabilities’ in Sen’s definition. Here I refer to relational wellbeing to describe people’s interactions with others, including aspects of social connectedness, social capital and social inclusion. Subjective wellbeing is understood as how people feel about their own wellbeing and satisfaction related to the quality of their life. Similar to WeD, the Psychological Assessment of Development and Humanitarian Intervention (PADHI) programme established by the Social Policy Analysis Research Center, of the University of Colombo, Sri Lanka, takes a multidimensional approach to wellbeing. This programme was created in response to the 2004 Tsunami disaster. One of the objectives of the PADHI programme is to develop a framework to understand wellbeing determinants in Sri Lanka. PADHI emphasizes the importance of psychosocial wellbeing in development activities and humanitarian interventions. It identifies five domains that influence individual, family or community wellbeing. These are: (1) access to physical, material and intellectual resources; (2) experience competence and self-worth; (3) exercise participation; (4) build social connections and (5) enhance physical and psychological wellness (White and Abeysekara, 2009, p.13). PADHI also pays attention to the aspects of power and influence. The programme considers both the external environment and how a person

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deals with it as influencing a person’s wellbeing. Hence, they explicitly reflect that power and influence are essential for wellbeing in Sri Lanka as they decide one’s ability to access resources, experience feelings of self-worth, ensure participation and establish connections. PADHI further asserts that one’s identity highly influences the ability to exert power. This identity could vary according to gender, marital status, ethnicity, religion, caste, class, socio-economic status, education and so on (see Tartarini, Chapter 8, this volume for the importance of identity to prisoners). The PADHI wellbeing framework also focuses on different institutions or levels. These are identified at micro (family, community groups); macro (community-based organizations, local government bodies, NGOs), and individual level. This chapter uses the three dimensions of material, subjective and relational wellbeing and PADHI’s five domains in order to explore the lived experiences of war widows after three decades of conflict in Sri Lanka. The study participants include a widow of a Sinhala army soldier, a widow of a Muslim army soldier and a widow of an LTTE freedom fighter, who is a Tamil. These women’s attempts to achieve wellbeing are captured through structured interviews conducted with them at their homes. The analysis of their narratives reveals that their strategies to achieve wellbeing do not show any open confrontation, but through using their agency in silent ways by strategically navigating the social norms and carving a secure place for them and their children at the present time and for the future.

GENDER DYNAMICS IN POST-CONFLICT SOCIETIES The literature on the legacies of war for men and women has received considerable attention among scholars, both during and after war (Moser and Clark, 2001; Rajasingham-Senanayake, 2004; Handrahan, 2004; Luna et al., 2017; Aoláin et al., 2018; Luna and Der Harr, 2019; Koens and Gunawardana, 2020). Developing a broad understanding of how different people in post-conflict situations negotiate wellbeing is essential in post-war development contexts (Eifler and Seifert, 2009; Handrahan, 2004; Zuckerman and Greenberg, 2004; Greenberg and Zuckerman, 2009). Eifler and Seifert (2009) highlights how gender relations and gender identities are reconstructed in pre-war, war and post-war situations. Gender roles and relations considerably change in these situations. Taking a feminist approach to development and disasters (war and tsunami) in Sri Lanka, Hyndman (2008) highlights how the meaning of widows attached to both these disasters have changed across ethnicities. She also points out how war provides both enabling and disabling spaces for women. Gender roles and relations change across caste, ethnicity and geographical locations.

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Bokek-Cohen and Ben-Asher (2018) show the differential positions of Orthodox and Bedouin widows in Israel, who are treated differently. They point out that while the Orthodox widows are celebrated, the Bedouin widows are marginalized and excluded. They try to demonstrate, within this context, how the Bedouin widows are trying to gain and preserve religious capital to cope with their social exclusion. They argue that an individual’s position cannot simply be gained through material assets, but by context-specific cultural expectations. Handrahan (2004) highlights the importance of ethnicity in post-conflict settings, drawing attention to women’s disadvantaged positions within local and global power structures. In understanding conflict and post-conflict dynamics, recognizing the underexplored linkages among gender, ethnicity, patriarchy and conflict are essential.

SRI LANKAN CONTEXT Sri Lanka, located off the southern coast of India, is a country emerging from three decades of war between the government and the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) who fought to carve out a separate land for them in the north and east. The government declaration of the military victory ended it on the 18th of May 2009. After this, Sri Lankans experienced and enjoyed a decade of peace dividend. However, this was interrupted by the 21 April terrorist attack in 2019. The coordinated attacks on Easter day, killed nearly 250 people and injured several hundreds, local and tourists. It also raised Sri Lanka’s conflict history to a global level, as government intelligence officers identified that the responsible terrorists had connections with ISIS. The conflict threatened Sri Lanka’s economic stability and ethnic relations. It has also created a completely new set of social harms for war widows, who lived peacefully in the country and whose stories are yet to be known. Sri Lanka is a multi-ethnic country and different ethnic groups have maintained distinct identities marked by religion, culture and language in their everyday life. According to the Department of Census and Statistics (2012), the predominant ethnic group in Sri Lanka is the Sinhalese, who account for 74.9 per cent of the population. A large majority of Sinhalese are Buddhists and a small number belongs to Christianity. The next largest group is the Tamils. Among the Tamils, there are two groups. One group is identified as Sri Lankan Tamils who account for 11.2 per cent and the other group is identified as Indian Tamils who account for 4.1 per cent. The majority of the Tamils are Hindus and there a few who follow Christianity. Muslims form the third minority group in Sri Lanka in terms of ethnicity. Ethnic and religious identities have played an important role in Sri Lanka’s war history. The civil war in Sri Lanka has typically been identified as an ethnic conflict (Korf and Silva, 2003). The involvement of women in war in Sri Lanka, more

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particularly Tamil women, has already received considerable attention among scholars. Rajasingham-Senanayake (2004) highlights that the war in Sri Lanka created new roles for women such as combatants, main income earners and heads of households. In her study area, although women were involved in income-generating activities and had undertaken responsibility as heads of households, the war forced many women to come out of their comfort zones and forced them to take some of these roles. Changes in gender roles have taken place in a typically patriarchal gender context. Rajasingham-Senanayake (2004) argues that with the return of peace these women might not return to their pre-war gender status. However, at the end of the war, many ex-combatants (Tamil women) were forced to return to their pre-war situations as marginalized and socially excluded women (Azmi, 2015). These women who were powerful during the war subsequently lost the power they had gained. Hence, in the former war areas of the north and east of the country women who were directly and indirectly involved in the war have different positions in the post-war situation. Those combatants who were involved in forceful recruitment and abduction of children face many challenges in the current situation. Most of them have left the country as refugees or live a marginalized life in their villages. Some of them are living in hiding. At the same time, women who were indirectly involved (other family members were combatants) in the war or not involved in the war continue to be in the middle of an identity crisis. While some are struggling to embrace a new identity and some have already reverted to their old identities, others have already accepted their new identity. This transition has implications for their wellbeing too and especially in the wellbeing aspirations of war widows. Unlike Tamil women, Sinhalese and Muslim women were not involved directly in the war, except a small percentage of Sinhalese women who served in the government security forces. Hence, their concerns have received less attention in the research scholarship. Regardless of their direct and indirect connection with the war, the three decades of war impacted women’s lives differently. The war changed the traditional image of Tamil women and they have received considerable attention in gender and conflict literature of Sri Lanka (Schrijvers, 1999; Ruwanpura and Humphries, 2004; Azmi, 2015). While the impacts of war on Tamil women have received greater academic attention, the impacts of the war on the women from the other two ethnicities have not received equal attention. Pannilage and Gunawardene (2016) discuss the impact of war on Sinhalese women. Though inadequately researched, Muslim women have also been affected by the war differently from the above two ethnicities (Azmi, 2013). Among the many social impacts, the war left a large number of war widows in the country, mostly in the northern and eastern provinces. According to statistics released by the Department of Census and Statistics (2012), half of

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the 23 per cent of women heading Sri Lanka’s households are widows. They include war widows (widows of government security forces; widows of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Ealam (LTTE) cadres and widows whose husbands were not directly involved in the war but killed by the LTTE or the government forces) and widows whose widowhood is not necessarily connected to the war. Although the exact number is not clearly known, some estimates show there are as many as 9,684 military war widows and 90,000 LTTE war widows (United Nations Sri Lanka and CEPA, 2015; Pannilage and Gunawardene, 2016; FOKUS Women, 2016). The latter excludes two categories of women. First, women who were not able to produce their marriage certificates as proof of their widowhood (many of them lost their properties and documents during the war; others have not registered their marriage or have cohabited illegally). Second, women whose husbands were missing or made to disappear during and after the conflict. Regarding ethnic identities, the LTTE war widows belong to the Tamil ethnicity, whilst the majority among the government forces belongs to Sinhalese ethnicity. Additionally, a small number of war widows belong to Muslim ethnicity. The literature on Sri Lanka’s war and post-war situation has documented that women from all communities were affected differently during the war and continue to bear the brunt of the war, even in the post-war period (Rajasingham-Senanayake, 2004; Ayadurai, 2006; Hyndman, 2008; Ruwanpura and Humphries, 2004). Due to the war, they lost their livelihoods, properties, loved ones, social networks and their identities affecting their wellbeing. The war forced new roles on women. Since the beginning of the war, women had to become the head of the households, forced to engage in economic activities, and even fighters in the field. Hence, for many women, in particular for those who were already living within the parameters of their societies, the post-war period exacerbated their everyday struggles. It is the impact of these changes that I explored in my research with war widows.

METHODS This study aimed to explore the detailed personal experiences of war widows in relation to how they constructed their own wellbeing, drawing on in-depth interviews with three war widows. Based on the participants’ willingness and availability, three war widows were selected representing the three ethnicities. Small samples have previously been criticized in qualitative methodologies (Denzin and Lincoln, 2008). In Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA), the aim is to search for deep understandings of phenomena as they are experienced by specific people. In qualitative research, phenomenology provides the space for detailed interpretative approaches to capture lived experiences (Smith et al., 2009). It also provides opportunities to articulate

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individual experiences through description. Feminist scholarship has also developed this approach. More importantly, it is also claimed that feminism and phenomenology create spaces to hear women’s stories and examine women’s experiences through the lens of gender (Cosgrove and McHugh, 2002). Smith and Shinebourne (2012) identify semi-structured interviews as a flexible data collection method under IPA. To select my research participants, a Sinhala war widow (respondent 1) from the district of Amparai was contacted through a colleague. A Tamil war widow (respondent 2), from the district of Mullaiteevu, was connected through an NGO worker. A Muslim war widow (respondent 3) from Kandy was contacted through a family connection. After identifying war widows through the above contacts, they were approached informally through telephone conversation. Before the interviews were conducted, the purpose of the research was explained to the participants. Three to four meetings were held with each woman. The initial meetings commenced with very informal discussions during which the participants talked about politics, the weather, the rising cost of living and basic socio-economic and historical information of their villages. This was important to build a relationship with the women. They talked about how they became widows and their subsequent experiences. Shortly after the informal discussions, the semi-structured interviews commenced. With their consent, interviews were recorded and whenever necessary transcribed. Interviews were conducted in both Tamil and Sinhala languages by the author. Questions in the semi-structured interviews were informed by the PADHI framework and covered dimensions of material, subjective and relational wellbeing. The domains of wellbeing identified in the framework were useful in exploring how individuals negotiated their wellbeing using their abilities, opportunities and freedom. This complements Sen’s (1985) conceptualization of wellbeing, providing a holistic understanding of the concept which includes both material and non-material dimensions, and values the importance of abilities (agency), freedom and spaces for participation. The interview guide contained information on the meaning of wellbeing, demographic information, ownership and access to resources, competence and self-worth, social connections, participation and power, which are highlighted as important domains of wellbeing in the PADHI framework. The interviews lasted between one and three hours. The interview with the Tamil war widow was held on two different days as she could commit time only when she was free from her work. All the recorded interviews were transcribed on a daily basis. These interviews were also looked at through the authors’ field notes and observations. Second, the transcripts were re-organized according to the major domains of the structured part of the interview. The respondents belong to the three main ethnicities of Sri Lanka, namely Sinhala, Tamil and Muslims. Their ages were

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37, 38 and 33. Two of them have studied up to secondary education, while respondent number two had studied up to grade nine. She had to drop from her schooling due to being recruited by the LTTE as a child soldier. She now works as a labourer in a vegetable garden. Additionally, she has a cow and some hens at home to cover her daily expenses. She has three children. Two of her children are living with her and one of them is still schooling. She was 19, when she became a widow. Her elder daughter is married. The other two war widows also have young children who attend school, and they were aged 25 and 27 when they became widows.

ANALYSIS: WHAT WAR WIDOWS VALUE FOR THEIR WELLBEING War Widows’ Definitions of Wellbeing In order to understand the war widows’ understandings of wellbeing, participants were first asked to tell what they understood by wellbeing. They provided a range of answers that varied from basic needs to social support. According to the respondents: Well-being for me is about having a good income to do the things that we want. We should be able to spend on food, education of children and get our health expenditures. We also should be able to look after our extended families. Simply, if we have enough income, we do not have to depend on others for our well-being. Although I get my husband’s pension, I had to work hard to get that. Still some of the benefits, I should get are not included in the salary. (Respondent 1) In order to live well, we need a house, job, money and good children. But, during the war, wellbeing was simply about not being killed during an attack or blast. Now things have changed and what we need to live a good life has changed. One needs to have money to live well. It is also important that we need our relatives, friends and villagers living in the same place as earlier. When we live in a new place, you do not know people. You can’t share your problems with them. Support from friends and relatives are very important for widows like us. (Respondent 2) Wellbeing is about happiness and living with the family. Since the day my husband was killed, I am suffering a lot. But I do not want to tell this to my children. I have a good house, a van and other properties. But nothing could be equated with having a husband, that I miss very much. Married women will lose their identities and respect in their societies, after the death of their husband, especially, when women are young. I am financially good as my brothers and parents support my family. (Respondent 3)

In the above narratives, different dimensions of wellbeing are captured. In the first and the second interviews, the importance of money for wellbeing is highlighted, while the third respondent emphasizes the importance of having

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a good husband and a family. In general, income and money were deemed as an important dimension of wellbeing directly and indirectly among all three. However, the quote from the second respondent shows that wellbeing is dynamic. During wartime, wellbeing is connected to safety, security and protecting their lives and not necessarily connected to money. With the war over, what people want are jobs. The second respondent has been living in a post-war re-settlement village for the last five years. She does not know many of her neighbours. She stressed the importance of social support and networks in ensuring the wellbeing of widows. The available support in childcare, household help, financial help and other types of assistance in conflict-affected areas are not similar compared to women living in other areas and are not accessible for most of the women living in the settlements. The war widows conceptualized wellbeing as a multidimensional concept emphasizing material as well as relational dimensions – for example compromises and sacrifices made for children. Their narratives also showed that the meanings attached to wellbeing are contextual as reflected by their changing priorities during wartime. Access to Resources: Material Wellbeing During and after the conflict, access to properties becomes complicated as they are influenced and manipulated by warring parties. In discussing wellbeing, access to material resources has always been a central concern. In all three interviews, among the resources needed to fulfil their basic needs and that of their children, a regular income was highlighted as necessary for wellbeing. A continuous flow of financial resources was identified as an important means to meet wellbeing expectations. The widows were worried about the future security of their children, in case something happens to them, which will block the flow of their income. They had good plans for their children’s education. The Ampara war widow mentioned: I am saving money for my son’s future education. I don’t want my children to live here in Sri Lanka as I think we are not able to settle our problems. With many hardships, I am saving some money from the husband’s pension. I did not do any jobs as I had to take care of my sick mother and children. My mother is now living with my brother’s family and my children are growing. These days, I am looking for a job. I had difficulties in getting my husband’s pension. Some benefits that should be included in the salary are not included yet. I have been to their office and submitted all the documents. It has been 8 years, nothing has happened yet. (Respondent 1)

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The Mullaiteevu war widow was seriously worried about her economic security. She said: I do not have regular work. Once the work in the farm is over I need to find another one immediately. That is not easy. Until I find another job, I rear some hens and goats. But if I get work, I need to stop this and go. My children cannot take care of goats. So, I stopped that. My main worry is that we do not have much work for labour in the settlement. We need to go to other villages. We have a very poor bus service. If we go to work late, we will not get the day’s full pay. Some NGOs working in the area gave me a sewing machine. They said they would provide training. But they never came. To get helps from the AGA (Assistant Government Agent) office, one needs to visit them several times. So I decided not to. My only worry is to educate my son, who would be able to look after my family, when I can’t. (Respondent 2)

Although in the cases of first and third respondents, their regular income was assured through their husband’s pensions, the second respondent worked in a precarious situation, where she could not access regular work. She identified the lack of support given by the Assistant Government Agent (AGA) office. Moreover, lack of services such as transport were also mentioned as barriers to access work and hence a hindrance to their economic security. Accessing government offices for assistance has been a difficult procedure for women in the situation of the second respondent. Such women have to undertake multiple roles to ensure the wellbeing of their families. When they are burdened with the sole responsibility of earning an income, and especially if they are employed as labourers, they do not have time to go to government institutions to obtain services. In the case of Sinhala war widow (Respondent 3), although she wanted to find a job, taking care of her mother and her children have barred her from getting a job. Not only in the post-war situation, but in general, women face challenges in balancing economic responsibilities and family commitments. Now, she has decided to look for a job as her brother looks after her mother and her children are grown up. She faced difficulties in getting her husband’s pension. According to FOKUS Women (2016), military war widows face many social and administrative barriers in accessing their husbands’ pensions. The study also points out the irregularities and disparities in the amount of pension and allowances among various categories of war widows, and how the female heads of the households are affected. Due to the bureaucracy and attitudes of the government officers, the economic hardships of military war widows worsen (FOKUS Women, 2016). The Kandy war widow mentioned: My brothers help to cover my children’s educational expenses. That is a big thing for me. Otherwise, I will not be able to cover that. I came to know about some

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scholarship schemes for the children of war widows. But I know how difficult it is to get it due to the official procedures that takes a long time. I do not know the Sinhala language. Besides, I need to go to Colombo for all those things. I cannot go alone and I cannot ask my brothers to help me. I know education given in the schools are not enough to meet the present day competitions. (Respondent 3)

The Muslim war widow is financially helped by her brothers. Her access to resources is mediated through her brothers. She doesn’t want to trouble them. She is comparatively in a better position than the other two war widows. However, she also pointed out difficulties in accessing scholarship for her children. Besides the official bureaucratic procedures, the language barrier has also been pointed out as a factor that reduces access to resources. In order to access these institutions the affected person needs to get a translator at a cost. The situation is worse in accessing some institutions in the north and east, where the majority of the people do not know the Sinhala language. The third respondent also pointed out another important factor that hinders their access to resources, as most of the head offices of certain departments are located in the capital. People who are seeking the services must travel to Colombo. This involves many challenges to war widows as they have to bear the economic cost, find a relative or friend to go to Colombo, and find someone to take care of the children. In explaining problems in access to resources, all three war widows mentioned different types of cultural barriers to and exploitative behaviours of service providers. The Sinhala war widow shared some of her experiences, which prevented her from accepting job offers. She is apparently a young and good-looking woman. She referred to a sexual bribe asked by a school principal in order to admit her son to a popular school. Children of the security forces (army, navy and air force) are given special placements for their children in National Schools. In order to give her son a good education, she tried to send him to a popular school in the town. But after the death of her husband, and her experience with the school principal, she went back to her village and was forced to send her son to the village school. All three war widows aspire to educate their children and it was mentioned as a vital dimension of the objective aspect of wellbeing, which will lead to material and later subjective aspect of wellbeing. Children’s education was the main reason for the widows to find more money. All of them were worried about the rising cost of education, especially fees for tuition classes. Respondent 2 mentioned about the distance to school, which made her elder daughter drop out. For respondent 3, the social cultural environment she was brought up in does not allow her to go out alone. She has to depend on her brothers to get her work done.

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In all three cases, the experiences shared in terms of accessing resources show that they could not use their agency fully to overcome the challenges they face. For example, in the case of respondent 1, she could not send her son to a good school; in the case of respondent 2, she did not go to the AGA office to get any assistance; and in the case of respondent 3, she did not seek help from her family to explore more about the scholarship opportunity as she thought it would be a burden for her brothers, if she has to go to government offices several times. This not only served to marginalize the war widows but also curtail their opportunities to ensure their families’ wellbeing. Differences in ethnic and religious backgrounds, and patriarchal social norms embedded in their different communities created extra challenges to access resources. Competence and Self-worth: Subjective Wellbeing Apart from the first respondent, the other two have not acquired any educational training. The first respondent received GCE (A/L) qualifications, and also diplomas in computer science and management. She is also learning from home through an online course. She spoke about the importance of uplifting her qualifications to access a decent and good job. Among all three war widows, the second respondent is the least educated. Her education was affected by the war. During the period of the war, education in the entire northern and eastern provinces was seriously affected. Respondent 2 had very few opportunities to continue her schooling during the war as she was recruited as a female combatant. She said ‘The only skill I acquired was using some light weapons during the war. But now I just want to forget that.’ Respondent 3 did not have any formally acquired skills. She was stopped from going to school after her GCE (O/L). Consequently, respondents 1 and 2 have competencies to find a job, unlike respondent 3. Among the three war widows, the first and second have a very positive value of self-confidence and self-esteem and positions in their families. But they are sceptical about the position in their community. They mentioned that in some instances the community appreciates their roles as single mothers, and how good they are in bringing up their children. However, in other instances, they become the topic of the village gossips. All three war widows are happy about the ways in which they have brought up their children, which also confirms their competence. Among the three, the first and second show tremendous strengths in terms of their self-confidence and self-esteem. The Sinhala war widow is happy about her ability to stand on her own feet since the day she lost her husband. She also shows how war widows can make informed choices. In the case of the Mullaiteevu war widow, although she is fulfilling her duties and responsibilities towards her family, amidst many difficulties, she is happy about her ability to find a good husband for her elder daughter and provide education for

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her second daughter. The Kandy war widow showed a dependent mentality. She explained that she has to face many cultural barriers in accessing public spaces and she believes she will have the protection of her brothers and her son later in life. All three women highlighted the social challenges they face in terms of their post-war identities as war widows, which has implications for their wellbeing. But they do not want to challenge some of the existing gender norms or social expectations related to widowhood that generally exist in society, for the sake of their children’s future wellbeing. If war widows cross the cultural boundaries in their respective societies, their families may become socially excluded. The situation is worse in rural areas where cultural and societal bonds are important in everyday lives. When social connectedness is affected, the future wellbeing of children is also likely to be affected. Building Social Connections, Participation and Power: Relational Wellbeing Participation in social activities and making social connections have not been easy for all three war widows due to their widowed status. All war widows mentioned the importance of social connections for their wellbeing. However, they also feared that some of the socio-cultural norms existing in society that work against widows might hinder their participation and hence social connections. Among the Hindus, widows are considered as carrying bad luck and considered as a curse. They cannot re-marry. They are not invited to important ceremonies. These traditions have serious implications on women’s wellbeing. In their study on Buddhism and Buddhist culture on widowhood, Edirisinghe and Wijesinghe (2017) point out that the sentiments widows have after the deaths of their husbands (such as, ‘my family is over’, ‘we are unfortunate’) have a serious bearing on their social relations. They found about 85 per cent of their sample of widows distanced themselves from the society after they became widows. The authors found the decisions to distance themselves from the society are driven by both the widows’ individual sentiments as well as the socio-cultural expectations of society, which assigns a marginal position to such women. Society and family, including the in-laws, blame the wife and children’s unfortunate fate as the cause of the death of the man (husband/father). Although in Muslim society widows are not considered as unfortunate and they are allowed to re-marry, the cultural blend with other cultures, in certain geographical areas where Muslims live, has influenced socially negative attitudes towards widows. In all three societies, when women lose their husbands at a younger age, these negative views play a critical role in their future life. Hence, all three women are very careful about the family honour and pride. Therefore, they are very selective in creating social links or

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participating in social activities. The negative connotations associated with widowhood affected their positions in the community to access wellbeing opportunities that are not directly connected to material wellbeing. Societal expectations related to widowhood marginalize them in many ways, but with varying intensities. The first respondent was in a better position compared to the other two women. Generally, married women who live with their husbands have comparatively higher respect and security in society than widowed or divorced women in the Sri Lankan society. Hence, in accessing the wellbeing benefits of social connection and participation, married women enjoyed a better position. However, for the widows, regaining the status of a married woman is not easy due to the social expectations related to re-marriage and to personal choices/decisions. When asked about re-marriage the Mullaiteevu war widow responded: Remarriage for men in our society is easy and men think it is essential. But it is not the same for women, especially if they have children. Many women believe a new partner might not treat the children well. Sometimes our in-laws and relatives do not like. In my case, I did not want to re-marry for many reasons. (Respondent 2)

For widows the deep-rooted socio-cultural ideologies work differently for different cultures they belong to. The majority of the women who became widows due to war in the north and east, have not re-married due to cultural norms also. The opinions of the war widow in Kandy reflected this perception of re-marriage: My parents planned to arrange another marriage, but I refused as I thought, my children will not have a good life, if I get a bad man. Besides, I cannot think of remarriage. I know in our society re-marriages for women like me is encouraged, thinking about a woman’s security. (Respondent 3)

The war widow from Ampara also mentioned that she did not think about re-marriage as she has two children. Although in all three cases re-marriage is associated with personal choice and partly social constraints, for military war widows re-marriage entails an economic cost due to the existing regulations on the military war widow’s pension scheme. Re-married military widows are entitled to obtain only 50‒75 per cent of the salary and compensation, which discourages re-marriage. This amount is calculated for the period of 10 years and is given as a lump sum (FOKUS Women, 2016). War widows therefore face challenges in re-establishing their identities. Neither would re-marriage guarantee them regaining their former identities. All these three war widows did not show much interest in participating in institutions or any other social events. Respondent 1 said she is a member of a military widow association. But she is not an active member. Respondent

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3 did not have any such involvements. However, respondent 2 is involved in a local NGO: I am working as the programme coordinator for the livelihood project for war widows in the settlement. I am not educated but my experience provide a good knowledge for helping other war widows. Once the officer in charge of the NGO asked me and other two women in the group to attend a meeting in Colombo to show the success of our programmes. But we could not go. I am also running a local savings group, where some of my neighbours are members. (Respondent 2)

She has been actively involved in the war widow livelihood project meetings. She mentioned that although she is not educated, her experience has provided a lot of knowledge and she was able to influence some decisions taken in the NGO’s programme. This sense of power is a central element in achieving wellbeing targets. Among the respondents, as noted above, only the narrative of the second participant shows how she has influence in her community through the NGO livelihood programme and her involvement in running a local savings group. The other two remain silent in terms of public participation and hence do not show how they exercise power. But it is evident that at a household level as the three are heads of their households, they show power in making important decisions, such as children’s education, savings and investments. In general, for the war widows, participation at the community level is much limited due to their marginalized positions. Some of them are reluctant to raise their voices or express their concerns over community matters or matters affecting them. In the war affected areas, as the number of war widows are high compared to other areas, war widows’ participation in decision making is comparatively good. They have also mobilized into groups and make collective actions which have resulted in good decisions. Through a mobilization strategy, war widows try to navigate the community space. However, in other areas war widows’ participation at the community level is much limited. Some of them are reluctant to raise their voices or express their concerns over community matters. Some war widows are actively engaged in women’s groups and organization. These are the women whose husbands were in a higher rank in the security forces. Through community participation widows expect to establish a connection with the society. Respondent 3 mentioned: I really want to engage in community works. I can share my knowledge and experience. However, I am afraid my contribution may not be accepted. I participate in such meetings with a close friend of mine. In some instances I have expressed my opinions through her. (Respondent 3)

The participants wanted to extend their relationship beyond their immediate families within the community. However, accessing such space was curtailed

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by many factors including their own choices regarding with whom they want to maintain links and why should they maintain such connections. In the war-affected areas, the previously existing social networks have been altered due to multiple displacements. Therefore, widows need to be very selective and careful in making new connections within the communities where they live at present. Respondent 2 mentioned that her participation in community works during the early years of widowhood was limited. However, later after she became involved in community-based projects, she did not feel the victimhood that she felt immediately after becoming a widow. Physical and Psychological Wellbeing The physical and psychological aspects of wellbeing cannot simply be understood separately from other dimensions of wellbeing. All dimensions of wellbeing are closely connected. When referring to their physical wellbeing, the interviewees made frequent reference to their bodily health and healthy food intake. They were also aware of common diseases such as diabetes, high blood pressure and high cholesterol. None of them reported any such health issues. However, they were worried about their mental and emotional wellbeing connected to their psychological wellbeing. The Tamil war widow mentioned: I am always worried about the future of my children. If anything happen to me, where would they go? If I think about this, I can’t sleep in the night. But I do not tell my worries to others or my children. Immediately after becoming a widow, I did not know how to go ahead with my life with small children. I felt awkward to ask help from others or ask others for a job. But, with time, poverty pushed me to find a work. During the first months of work, I was emotionally worried as I have not worked outside my home. I had to tolerate everything for my children. (Respondent 2)

A range of factors, such as their widowhood identity, their children’s future, their old age care, influenced the war widows’ emotional wellbeing. All three are emotionally worried about their widow identities and social stigmatization. Such feelings were silently experienced by them and they do not want to share with their own families.

CONCLUSION The chapter has emphasized the different conceptualizations of wellbeing by war widows that reveal different dimensions of what wellbeing is and how it is experienced. Narratives of all three respondents highlighted the importance of material, relational, subjective and physical and psychosocial dimensions of wellbeing highlighted in the literature as well as put forward by the PADHI framework in the context of Sri Lanka. It also documented the links between

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different domains. The chapter also described how war widows mediate their access to various types of resources essential for their wellbeing both directly and indirectly. In terms of social networks, participation and power, the chapter highlighted how war widows strategize their participation and power at household and community levels. While the chapter displayed the different ways war widows try to achieve wellbeing, it also shows how they are trying to escape the feeling of victimhood. Thus, their strategies to achieve wellbeing do not show any open confrontation, but they use their agency in silent ways by strategically navigating social norms, and carving a secure place for them and their children at present and for the future.

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10. Wellbeing and inclusion: a place for religion Laura Kapinga and Bettina Bock INTRODUCTION: WELLBEING, INCLUSION, AND PLACE This chapter highlights the importance of social inclusion for wellbeing, with a specific focus on religion and the role of place. It contributes to current wellbeing debates in two ways. First, it develops a theoretical approach to study wellbeing through practices of inclusion of social groups. Second, we correspondingly argue that, in so-called ‘western’ and ‘secular’ societies, it is important to consider places for religion in thinking about wellbeing today and in the future. Wellbeing is a powerful and commonly used concept that is defined, measured, and applied in many ways (Schwanen and Atkinson, 2015). Recent efforts propose to spatialise wellbeing research as a promising alternative moving beyond predefined and generic categories of what it means ‘to be well’ by bringing in everyday experiences into wellbeing debates (Atkinson et al., 2012; Schwanen and Atkinson, 2015; Smith and Reid, 2018). As Lefebvre (1991) suggests ‘space is fundamental to our lived experience in the world’ (Watkins, 2005: 209); hence, it is essential to understanding wellbeing. Evidence can be found in notions of therapeutic landscapes (see Gittins et al., Chapter 13 this volume on the therapeutic properties of woodlands). Sampson and Gifford (2010) argue that places are vital in supporting the wellbeing of refugee youth by building a sense of belonging and security. Watkins and Jacoby (2007) maintain that places can harm wellbeing since it contributes to shaping inequality, for instance, by the power dynamics at play which exclude particular persons or groups (see Chapter 9 (war widows), Chapter 8 (prisoners) and Chapter 11 (children in urban settings) in this volume). Atkinson’s (2013) work enhances the link between wellbeing and place. She demonstrates how places evoke embodied experiences through relational and situated processes of wellbeing. Experiences are relational since they are always in interaction and negotiated with others present, the material, and the 148

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objects of a place. Furthermore, experiences are never isolated in a specific place, but situated through time and space and thus inevitably embedded in a particular sociohistorical and political context (Atkinson, 2013; Lefebvre, 1991). Following Smith and Reid (2018: 823), we ‘understand wellbeing as an emergent entanglement of networks of wellbeing and illbeing, both produced by and producing space through practices performed by persons situated in specific cultures’. Thus, by applying the spatial focus on lived experiences, we take up the book’s focus on situated and relational experiences of wellbeing (Searle et al., Chapter 1 this volume) which does not solely concern the individual level but also unfolds wider sociopolitical structures (Schwanen and Atkinson, 2015; Smith and Reid, 2018; see also Zielke, Chapter 3 this volume). While departing from place, we can approach wellbeing as socially differentiated through practices of inclusion. We specifically focus on social inclusion. This multi-dimensional concept can refer to, for instance, inclusion in the labour market or bureaucratic inclusion. Our focus, however, fits within the communal domain of social inclusion (Bock et al., 2015; Reimer, 2004). This concerns shared identities and relations to others in the ordinary context of everyday society. Sampson and Gifford (2010) show that places are essential for feelings of belonging and inclusion to a particular group of society. Similarly, Witten et al. (2015) stress that feelings of inclusion in urban places are significant for individual and societal wellbeing. Experiences of inclusion or exclusion can depend on which group you (wish to or are perceived to) belong to and where you are (Atkinson, 2013). Practices of individuals or groups can signify belongingness to a group and to what extent these fit with the practices for which a place is conceived. It raises questions such as, what practices are encouraged or welcomed in a certain place? In other words, what practices are considered ‘normal’ in everyday or public places? Who, as a result, feels ‘out of place’ and why? (Valentine and Sporton, 2009). Hence, practices reveal processes of social inclusion and exclusion at particular places which can contribute to, or prevent wellbeing. Especially in increasingly unequal and pluralistic societies, it is essential, as White (2017) suggests, to consider ‘whose wellbeing’ is at stake and whether societies or cities cater in the same way to the needs and ambitions of all its inhabitants. In this discussion, the lens of religion, and in particular Islam, is of specific interest. Religion has been mostly absent from current academic and societal debates about wellbeing and is underexposed in policies dealing with diversity or inclusion (Greed, 2016; Hancock, 2019; Manouchehrifar, 2018; McClymont, 2015). This lack of attention contrasts with the resurgence of religion and changing religious landscapes in many contemporary western European societies (Henkel, 2014). While religion was expected to fade away through processes of secularisation, it proved to remain a substantial dimension of many peoples’ everyday lives, upbringing, and identities.

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Religion is a fundamental part of identity and directly linked to wellbeing by providing purpose, structure and community (Graham and Crown, 2014; Stavrova et al., 2013). In the past decade, especially the salience of religion among young Muslims gained much attention (Huijnk, 2018). Despite the various ways of ‘being Muslim’, and intersections with a diverse range of other identity markers or personal characteristics, religion functions as a marker of difference and is central to processes and experiences of inclusion and exclusion (Phillips, 2015; Ryan, 2014). This chapter emphasises that excluding, questioning, or not fully acknowledging such an integral part of someone’s identity will influence their wellbeing. In these experiences and exclusionary processes, places play a central role. In many European societies, religion is largely banned from the public domains and often restricted or designated to particular places such as private places (home) or institutionalised places (mosques). ‘Being Muslim’ can be a marker of sameness but also at those places, but also, for instance, at halal meat shops or at meetups with young Muslim peers (Kapinga and van Hoven, 2020; Salnikova and D’Arcus, 2019). For young Muslims, it is important to not only be religious in places designated for religion or shared with other Muslims but to navigate and explore religion as part of their identities in their everyday lives through various everyday places (Ahmad, 2012; Kapinga and van Hoven, 2020). This chapter highlights that wellbeing is influenced by the mere practices of ‘being Muslim’ which does not conform to the norm at particular places. This engenders feelings of exclusion and raises the desire to openly and visibly ‘be religious’ without being seen as an undesired presence. We propose a theoretical approach, comprised of the concepts (im)materiality, (in)visibility, and (il)legitimacy, to capture the dimensions of spatially and socially differentiated practices of social inclusion needed to promote the wellbeing of religious individuals and groups. The remainder of this chapter consists of three parts. In the next section, we briefly introduce the three concepts making up the theoretical frame. Subsequently, we illustrate how those concepts interact by drawing on empirical data comprised of young Muslims’ narratives in the city of Groningen, a provincial capital in the north of the Netherlands. We conclude by arguing for including religion into future wellbeing debates and discuss the potential role of postsecular planning policies in fostering wellbeing.

THE IMPORTANCE OF MATERIALITY, VISIBILITY AND LEGITIMACY IN PRACTICES OF INCLUSION We propose a theoretical approach to understand wellbeing through practices of social inclusion based on the concepts (im)materiality, (in)visibility and (il) legitimacy. In our approach, local places are essential in analysing the inter-

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actions between these three concepts. Local places include various everyday material places, such as a coffee shop, supermarket, home, university, school, work, the mosque, public parks, squares, and streets, including its material objects and the bodies at those places. These materialities of places do not only produce certain experiences, but are also produced by immaterialities. We zoom in on practices since places are implicitly or explicitly conceived for particular practices or ‘ways of being’ which evoke (immaterial) experiences of (il)legitimacy or (in)visibility. Materiality The materiality of place refers to the concrete, tangible and physical emplacements of the city, such as buildings, artefacts, bodies, or other solid objects. Following Lefebvre’s (1991) accounts of space, the material is inevitably related to lived experiences and spatial practices, as material representations contribute to the emergence of feelings and practices, which, in turn, can also have material manifestations. Radermacher (2016: 308) explains that a material building is conceived for certain (religious) practices; it shapes the positioning of the body, influences the senses, enables interaction and creates a certain experience. Some practices are desired or encouraged by the materialities of a place, while it does not cater to other practices. Johnson and Miles (2014) show that spatial practices of Muslim women wearing a hijab, such as the ordinary performance of walking, are shaped by the openness of places which engenders feelings of safeness and security. At the same time, this practice of walking contributes to the production of material space by an embodied manifestation, which provides a sense of recognition for other Muslim women. While materiality has a rather fixed and static connotation, places are always a state of becoming and continuously reshaped by dynamic processes between the material and immaterial experiences and spatial practices (Burchardt and Westendorp, 2018; Lefebvre, 1991; Wight, 2012). Materiality and immateriality also interact in the representation of a religious congregation or community, which invites some and excludes others. Materiality can engender feelings of inclusion by marking a building or site as ‘religious’, for instance with symbols or structures associated with institutionalised religion. For some, this is a sign of recognition and belonging, a symbol of home and a point of orientation in daily life. It is not by coincidence that Medieval or early modern churches were often built in the centre of cities – as an anchor for the community (Henkel, 2014). According to Cesari (2005), mosques can provide a sense of community and belonging for Muslims, and also function as a space of representation, which can foster inclusion. She notes that ‘the fact that mosques are frequently relegated to the city’s periphery is often seen by Muslims as a sign of their own marginalisation’ (p. 1020).

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Beekers and Tamimi Arab (2016) discuss the struggles that arise when a community associated to a mosque in Amsterdam desires to moving away from the mosque as a hidden space towards a place that is materially visible and emphasises their belongingness in the cityscape. It is often in the conflicts around the material construction or location of mosques that anti-Islamic discourses become noticeable (see also Tamimi Arab, 2013). Materiality has a temporal component and represents historically embedded discourses and structures in societies (Beekers and Tamimi Arab, 2016; Della Dora, 2018; Knott, 2008). The meanings attached to a material place can, however, change over time. Havlíček and Klingorová (2018), for instance, show how processes of secularisation, sacralisation, pluralisation, and de-secularisation change the urban religious landscape of Prague. Della Dora (2018) relates new functions of vacant church buildings, such as libraries or even trampoline parks, to historically embedded and currently dominant discourses and social processes. It explains why ‘new’ or other practices are accepted or rejected, or considered normal or abnormal in a material place. However, practices of inclusion are not only related to places materially ‘marked’ as religious, such as mosques. Religion can be lived, practised and experienced everywhere (Ammerman 2014). Various places can cater to the needs and wishes, identities, beliefs, and everyday lives of religious individuals and communities and contribute to feelings of inclusion and wellbeing. For instance, Salnikova and D’Arcus (2019) found that halal meat shops are also significant places for maintaining and negotiating religious identities of Muslim communities as they allow people to express similar religious views through the daily practice of food shopping. These shared spaces can evoke and reinforce feelings of belonging and add to social wellbeing. Spatial practices in public places not shared with other Muslims, however, are also crucial for young Muslims to make sense of what religion means to them in relation to their parents or religious communities (Kapinga and van Hoven, 2020). Those places are essential in revealing processes of structural inclusion and exclusion since they reflect what is perceived ‘normal’ in wider society. There is not much attention to how the materiality of those local places contributes to inclusion and wellbeing. Visibility and legitimacy can clarify these processes through practices of inclusion. Visibility Attempts to gain visibility and the ‘politics of visibility’ are related to processes around recognition and stigmatisation, which are often highlighted in studies on Muslim communities. Studies show that Muslim communities search to claim and appropriate the material space by making themselves more visible (Beekers and Tamimi Arab, 2016). Especially young Muslims seem

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to speak up as ‘Muslim’ to gain recognition with ‘the desire to be treated not as second-class citizens, but as full citizens’ (Amiraux and Jonker, 2006: 10). Nevertheless, when Islam gains public visibility, it often encounters resistance such as in the (re)construction of mosques (Cesari, 2005; Tamimi Arab, 2013), or debates where and under which circumstances Muslims can wear a hijab or niqab (Johnson and Miles, 2014). Resistance can also result from non-visible, audible senses, such as the Azan, the call for prayer in public places (Tamimi Arab, 2013). Islamic spaces that are not noticeable from the outside encounter less resistance (Kuppinger, 2014). Studies show that visibility and invisibility relate to inclusion in seemingly contradictory and paradoxical ways (Johnson and Miles, 2014; Staeheli et al., 2009). The people struggling for visibility often strive for invisibility and inclusion at the same time. Visibility as a strategy to gain access or claim public space can be confrontational for other users, which can be the aim of claiming visibility, but also spark othering (see also Bialasiewicz, 2017b). Moreover, in many European contexts, Islamic spaces are described as hidden, yet can be considered hyper-visualised at the same time (Amiraux and Jonker, 2006; Bialasiewicz, 2017b). For some minorities or groups, visibility in public places can, hence, be undesirable or even perilous when they are noticed as different, not belonging, or ‘the other’ – as deviant. Politicised minorities are often made wrongfully invisible and visible (Arendt, 1957; Bialasiewicz, 2017b). Staeheli et al. (2009) illustrate this complexity posing the question: where can you be visible, but also where can you be invisible? The struggle for both visibility and invisibility can, hence, engender feelings of inclusion. Legitimacy Legitimacy refers to power, norms, rules and laws that denote what is accepted or normal in a certain place. Staeheli et al. (2009) explain legitimacy by referring to relations between the dominant society and the members of social groups seeking inclusion in it: ‘a group that is seen to be deviant or to violate the norms of the public, for instance, is likely to face conflicts as it seeks inclusion’ (p. 641). Thus, what is considered ‘normal’ depends on the dominant group in a particular place. Social (sub)groups can adjust the norms or create alternative places to experience legitimacy (Staeheli et al., 2009). Here invisibility, hence, offers protection, facilitates existence in a separate place. Yet, places can also visibly be appropriated by certain groups. Phillips (2015) focuses on an urban neighbourhood ‘claimed’ by its inhabitants as an Asian Muslim space, for instance, through the opening of multiple ethnic shops and restaurants. This may be interpreted as stepping aside and a reaction to be being kept out of other places but can also be considered a voluntary move, searching for a place of your

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own. Furthermore, struggles around the legitimacy of places are not necessarily related to minority–majority dynamics, but can also come from within (religious) communities (Amiraux and Jonker, 2006). Young people tend to create their own spaces far from parental control or authority (Trell et al., 2014). Studies show that young Muslims, for instance, make sense of their personal religious views and identities outside of the mosques where older generations are in charge and produce their own places for Muslim peers (Kapinga and van Hoven, 2020). As Johnson and Miles (2014) show, public places can be appropriated by Muslim women, by ordinary practices such as walking. Thus, it is important to emphasise that practices of ‘being Muslim’ can conform to the norm in one place, while the same practices create a sense of illegitimacy elsewhere. In other words, not all places in the city have similar norms or the same group of people deciding what is a legitimate practice. The dynamics of materiality, visibility and legitimacy all show the subtleties and complexities of inclusion through practices that can shape wellbeing, and stress that place is fundamental in these processes. In the next section, we illustrate how these theoretical concepts interact with each other drawing on the experiences of young Muslims.

PRACTICES AND EXPERIENCES OF YOUNG MUSLIMS IN GRONINGEN This section analyses the narratives of young Muslims living in the city of Groningen (the Netherlands) and emphasises the interaction between materiality, visibility and legitimacy in practices of inclusion and exclusion which influence wellbeing. This study is part of a larger research project scrutinising the spatial embeddedness of a diverse group of young adult Muslims (18‒30) making sense of religion in several urban contexts (Kapinga and van Hoven, 2020). In the city of Groningen, data collection took place between April 2018 and September 2019, and twelve young people, both male and female, were interviewed. They varied in many ways, such as in religious views and ethnic backgrounds, but ‘being Muslim’ was experienced as a central marker of difference. This marker was attributed by others and this attribution, as well as the feelings it engendered, differed from one local place to another. To highlight the spatial focus of this research, we conducted in-depth interviews which included a map-making practice. The interviews and map-making sparked conversations about their changing everyday spatialities; what places they (dis)liked; at what places they felt that they could be themselves; and where and how they ‘lived’ religion. When analysing and interpreting the participants’ practices and experiences, it is important to emphasise how those experiences are situated in a historical context. As Maussen (2014) explains, Islam is a minority religion in the

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Dutch predominantly secular society which is historically Christian. From the early 20th century until the late 1960s, religion was organised along different pillars representing the dominant ‘religious’ denominations (Catholic, Calvinist, Socialists, and Liberal). Those were spatially largely separated in society by having different sports and youth clubs, schools and newspapers. In the 1960s and 1970s, Dutch society developed into a secular state, moving religion from the public to private spheres. During this period, the separation between the traditional religious pillars largely disappeared, which is known as de-pillarisation. At the same time, church attendance decreased, and the religious landscape diversified. Islamic spaces emerged with the arrival of Turkish and Moroccan guest workers. With their permanent settlement and family reunifications, and later the influx of refugees from Muslim majority countries, the Islamic landscape transformed from rather ‘hidden places’ into more permanent, and sometimes visible, Islamic places (Beekers and Tamimi Arab, 2016; Tamimi Arab, 2013). Some mosques were located in vacant church buildings. Muslims today still face struggles in creating Islamic spaces and those conflicts, at least in part, reflect and result from the portrayal of Muslims as opposite of alleged Dutch values in politics and mainstream media (Van Liere, 2014). However, the experiences of participants is also situated in the more local contexts. In the city of Groningen, an estimated 2.5‒5 per cent of the population identifies as Muslim. There are three mosques located in the city. Moreover, Groningen typically has many young people because of its large student population. While this chapter highlights experiences of participants who studied, not all of them were students. The participants generally enjoyed the city as a place to live and often described it, in contrast to larger urban regions such as The Hague, Rotterdam or Amsterdam, as a rather ‘white city’ lacking cultural and ethnic diversity. However, zooming in on practices at particular local places unfolded the nuanced experiences of inclusion and exclusion which differed from one place to another and in which materiality, legitimacy and visibility play a role. Very prominent among all participants was the feeling of being viewed as different due to practices that made them visible as Muslim. This experience depended on where they were. Experiences of ‘sticking out’ and being marked as different by the dominant group, are for instance, based on participants' physical appearance associated with ‘being Muslim’. The embodied practice of wearing a headscarf evokes, as Zahra explains, Islamophobic reactions and also more implicit responses which make her feel different when visiting restaurants, coffee shops or walking on the street. Zahra (21, female, Groningen): I’m stared at a lot. I once walked with a native Dutch guy, and he said so too. I just want to be able to take a bite from my food without being stared at (laughter). I’m used to it now, but sometimes I really think

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I should say something […]. When you walk into a restaurant, everyone is staring at you. People really think: ‘What is she doing here?’ It's really weird. […] And also people ask: ‘Do you like it here in the Netherlands’? And I’m like ‘Yes, why? I was born here.’ […] Or I’m on a sidewalk, and a woman cycles by and says: ‘Take your headscarf off in the Netherlands!’

Similarly, Aziz experiences being visible by the mere practice of being present at many everyday places. When he makes himself more visible as Muslim, for example by standing up to racist jokes or stereotypes, he moves further away from what is considered legitimate in places dominated by students resulting in experiences of exclusion. Aziz (26, male, Groningen): I always felt a little bit different […] I didn’t feel 100 per cent at home. […] It is also my appearance. People notice me. And it is in my name. […] They are like, oh yeah, you are different. But no, I’m just the same as everyone else. There [pointing to the city centre on his map] I have never been able to feel completely at home, also because of the dominant prototype of ‘the student’. […] That is also what this part of Groningen [city centre] is for me, namely if you do not meet the norm then you can bugger off. And if there is something I’ve never conformed to, it is the norm. So when you show yourself a little more to the outside world, the edges become sharper.

Both reflections illustrate that being visibly Muslim does not conform to the norm at many places shared with non-Muslims. A fundamental part of their identity is not acknowledged as legitimate ‘practice’ in that specific place. In line with the literature, participants desire invisibility in those places because they feel similar to everybody else but are wrongly perceived as being different (Staeheli et al., 2009). Aziz contrasts the experience of being perceived as ‘different’ in the city centre to more culturally diverse places, such as at a shopping centre outside of the city centre and at the mosque where he enjoys the sense of legitimate invisibility. Aziz (26, male, Groningen): Going to the Mosque on Friday felt a bit like a relief to me. Here [shopping centre and mosque] you don’t have the feeling that someone is looking at you a little longer […]. Among those people, I don't have to defend myself, and of course, I don’t have to do that verbally or whatever anyway. But that [not being noticed] plays a very important role in this [what places I feel comfortable].

Aziz also explains that he goes to this particular shopping centre, and thus actively changes his experience of the space, since he feels comfortable there, and gains invisibility which provides a sense of legitimacy. The ability and opportunity to be invisible ‘when you be yourself’ seems to be pivotal in practices for wellbeing when zooming in on local places. Jasmine also substanti-

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ates how these exclusionary experiences of being wrongfully visible influence her wellbeing since she never had the feeling she belonged: Jasmine (22 female, Groningen): I just felt very uncomfortable. But at a certain point that started to change, but here, I never really had the feeling that I … I have become quite lonely now. Here in Groningen, at the University […]. Because I really didn’t feel like dealing with this negative energy around me.

Jasmine describes the negative energy as a consequence of her visibility which seems to be a barrier to connect to her peers. Places do not only shape people, but the participants’ narratives also reveal their agency to change what is considered normal, notable, or outstanding at a particular place (Johnson and Miles, 2014). Jasmine enacts her agency by actively challenging stereotypes about Muslims with the desire to prevent Muslim peers from having similar experiences as herself. Jasmine (22 female, Groningen): To show that someone with a headscarf is also normal. Really merely to do something about that stupid feeling I had in the beginning. I just wanted to… for people with a headscarf who will come here to study… that they are viewed a bit more normal and normally treated, you know.

Jasmine’s attempt to change the norm as an active student does not spark resistance, in contrast to Aziz’s experience when he stands up to racist jokes. However, when she strives for legitimacy, she needs to become more visible as an example of a Muslim student. Here the seemingly paradoxical character of visibility comes in to play (Staeheli et al., 2009). Changing the norms and making a Muslim presence more legitimate makes her also more visible as Muslim, while she desires to achieve a sense of legitimacy through invisibility. As a result, the need for places to meet other young Muslim peers emerges. At the University of Groningen, in 2018 the first Muslim Student Association of Groningen was founded by and for young Muslims. Part of their mission is: ‘to offer the Muslim student a place where his/her spiritual and social interests are represented’. Consider how Jasmine continues: Jasmine (22, female, Groningen): A Muslim Student Association brings people together, and yeah… you can just… you often have the feeling that you are alone when you don’t go out to party or drink alcohol. You are often the outsider because those things are considered normal here.

This need for alternative places becomes clear in the narratives of other participants as well and is echoed by other studies showing that places shared by young Muslims seem important for coping with experiences of ‘being different’ in other everyday places (Kapinga and van Hoven, 2020). At those places, the intersection between being young and Muslim – in all its varieties

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– seems to be the norm; it provides a sense of legitimacy and thus functions as a ‘complementary private sphere of invisibility’ (Arendt, 1957; Bialasiewicz, 2017a). Phillips (2015) also suggests that Muslim citizens practice religion in some parts of the city, where the absence of feeling different or undesirably visible make them feel safe and at home. De Koster (2010) demonstrates that such alternative places can also be found online; they appeal to people with ‘unusual’ and ‘out of place’ identities, and create a sense of invisibility and legitimacy. The desire for offline instead of virtual meetings demonstrates the importance of material presence. It underlines the importance of being legitimate in place and not to be ‘pushed away’ to immaterial virtual spaces. Being legitimately present reflects inclusion and promotes wellbeing. However, as our empirical evidence illustrates, legitimacy at one place can provide a feeling of inclusion and belonging, yet signify illegitimacy at other places. The complexity of (il)legitimacy becomes evident in its interaction with (in) visibility and (im)materiality. Some participants reflected upon the struggle around realising a prayer space in the university library, which illustrates that religion is a complex and sensitive issue when organisations search to promote diversity while fostering inclusion and wellbeing. Diversity and inclusion are prominent topics at the University of Groningen: in 2019 it was the theme of their 405th anniversary, in which they celebrated and highlighted various forms of diversity, among which they emphasised religion. While university buildings located outside of the city centre provided a place to pray, the wish for such a place in the city centre raised worries and resistance among the university management. After a seven month pilot at the University Library, a permanent contemplation room was created to provide all students with a place ‘to step away from the hustle and bustle of the university life’, to practice mindfulness and promote wellbeing. While the pilot had shown that the room was mainly used for prayer (78 per cent), mostly by Muslim students, the rules prevented any religious appropriation of the room; ‘the contemplation room is intended for individual contemplation, reflection or meditation’, and ‘users may not claim or appropriate the contemplation room in any way, for example by means of decorations, inscriptions, furnishings, layout or behaviour’. Not acknowledging the ‘religious function’ of the room seems ‘safe’ as preventing any discussion on religion; it seems inclusive too as it invites all students and allows for various forms of contemplation. However, it evokes a sense of illegitimacy of being Muslim. While Aziz explains he is pleased with having a place to pray, he says the following about the absence of its religious purpose or representation: Aziz (26, male, Groningen): Because you cannot say in public that you are a Muslim. People will think unconsciously – even if they don't want to think that way about Muslims – they oppress women or don’t participate in society. That is my

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experience. […] If you give Muslims a prayer room, it really doesn’t mean that they suddenly… that they are going to blow themselves up or something. That really is what people think and ‘joke’ about. […]. That prayer room was a struggle.

The contemplation room can therefore be described as what Burchardt and Becci (2013) call ‘hidden religious topographies, that impart religious signification to networks of sites that are only recognisable by insiders.’ (p. 12). Religion is made ‘invisible’ by and for others and is, therefore, experienced as an undesired part of this material place and engenders feelings of being different or undesired. The practice of prayer is tolerated and accepted and, thus, formally legitimate, yet, at the same time, preventing making that visible to others engenders feelings of illegitimacy and affects feelings of inclusion and wellbeing.

FINAL REMARKS: A PLACE FOR RELIGION This chapter proposed a theoretical approach to understanding the importance of practices of religious inclusion for the promotion of wellbeing in which place is central. The approach distinguishes between the materiality, visibility, and legitimacy of practices since that grants nuanced insights into the spatialities of such enactments of religious identity in everyday places. Narratives of young Muslims in Groningen (the Netherlands) empirically illustrated the complex interaction among these concepts and underlined their spatial embeddedness. Wellbeing results from practices fundamental to who you are, such as ‘being Muslim’. This approach is useful for studying wellbeing among other social sub-groups facing issues of inclusion based on an integral part of their identities such as gender, sexuality and race. For instance, same-sex couples in the Netherlands are still hesitant to visibly enact their identity at public spaces even though efforts are made to make public spaces more inclusive on various governmental levels (Engberts and Pierik, 2019). Religion particularly complicates the discussion on inclusion and wellbeing in secular societies such as the Netherlands where religion is expected to take place in private and particular places outside of public view. Expressing religious identities visibly in everyday places evokes resistance, and in particular for Islam as we discussed in this chapter. Several other studies showed that Muslim communities feel pressured to refrain from enacting their religion outside private or conventional religious places (Bialasiewicz, 2017a; Cesari, 2005; Phillips, 2015). Yet, religion is not only important at mosques, alternative places, or in private spaces such as homes. In particular, for young Muslims, everyday places are important for making sense of who they are and exploring and developing their religious beliefs and practices in this process (Kapinga and van Hoven, 2020). This chapter emphasised the struggle of being

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wrongfully visible and invisible as Muslim in places shared with non-Muslims. While the empirical data demonstrated the agency of participants in producing or changing places to gain a sense of legitimacy, we share Smith and Reid’s (2018) concerns about the neoliberal and individualistic accounts on individuals’ own responsibility for wellbeing. After all, opportunities and responsibilities to create inclusive publics and societies also lie with the public and society at large (Johnson and Miles, 2014; Witten et al., 2015). Equality, diversity, and inclusion are central goals of democratic policies since it is a governments’ responsibility to cater to all its inhabitants, including religious communities. While there is attention for other forms of diversity (such as gender diversity, see for example Engberts and Pierik, 2019), governmental organisations have to set an example and become aware of the notion that religion requires a more prominent place in inclusion and wellbeing debates. As the prayer space discussion showed, even with inclusivity objectives in mind, religion remains a sensitive and loaded matter to deal with. Many institutions and (governmental) organisations have similar conflicts, struggling with religion and supposed neutrality, which sometimes are politically charged as well (for example Bialasiewicz, 2017b). Unlike other forms of diversity, Greed (2016) argues religion is underexposed and ‘discriminated’ in planning for diverse and inclusive societies. Religious groups are often not taken seriously, and there seems to be an uncomfortableness and ignorance around dealing with religion (Manouchehrifar, 2018). Few scholars engage with discussions on religion in (urban) planning policy and the ones who do all point towards its absence (Greed, 2016; Hancock, 2019; Manouchehrifar, 2018; McClymont, 2015). Religion also needs to be seriously considered in planning for inclusive societies and wellbeing today and in the future. One of the promising ways forward is directly related to the spatial environments fundamental for practices of wellbeing. Since policymakers seem to withdraw from engaging with religion in planning policies under the guise of secularity, McClymont (2015) argues for a redefinition of religion in planning. Postsecular planning means moving away from opposing religion and secularism since these are often approached as each other’s constitutive others (Manouchehrifar, 2018). Approaching religion from a postsecular perspective emphasises the entanglement of, and respect for, various forms of belief and non-belief and enables planning to move to an agnostic, instead of an antagonistic way of dealing with religion (McClymont, 2015). This postsecular perspective allows to move beyond the institutionalised religions and the places assigned to them in the urban context (Hancock, 2019). McClymont (2015: 539) notes that this broader postsecular definition of religion ‘reasserts the possibility of spiritual and religious values beyond places of worship’. This facilitates the connection of contemporary and future urban religious landscapes in which religion is imbued in the cityscape in explicit and implicit ways (Burchardt and Westendorp, 2018). The latter is

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important for young Muslims’ wellbeing since everyday places are profound in experiences of being different. Further research is required into how postsecular planning policies can best be implemented. This implementation depends on national and local contexts regarding, for instance, planning cultures, changing religion–state relations, the development of religious landscapes, and the role of the government. Martínez-Ariño (2019: 11) has shown that governmental bodies at several levels play a role in defining what forms of religion are ‘acceptable’ public spaces, and also influence what is normal in institutions and organisations. Context-specific expertise is needed to identify the sensitivities and decision-making processes around religion and to effectively implement postsecular planning and stimulate practices of wellbeing through inclusion.

REFERENCES Ahmad, W.I. (2012), ‘“Creating a Society of Sheep”? British Muslim Elite on Mosques and Imams’, in W.I.U. Ahmad and Z. Sardar (eds), Muslims in Britain: Making Social and Political Space, London: Routledge, pp. 171–192. Amiraux, V. and G. Jonker (2006), ‘Introduction: Talking about Visibility – Actors, Politics, Forms of Engagement’, in G. Jonker and V. Amiraux (eds), Politics of Visibility: Young Muslims in European Public Spaces, Bielefeld: Transcript Verlag, pp. 9–20. Ammerman, N.T. (2014), ‘Finding Religion in Everyday Life’, Sociology of Religion, 75 (2), 189–207. Arendt, H. (1957), The Human Condition, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Atkinson, S. (2013), ‘Beyond Components of Wellbeing: The Effects of Relational and Situated Assemblage’, Topoi, 32, 137–144. Atkinson, S., S. Fuller and J. Painter (2012), ‘Wellbeing and Place’, in S. Atkinson, S. Fuller, and J. Painter (eds), Wellbeing and Place, 1st ed., Farnham: Ashgate Publishing, pp. 1–14. Beekers, D. and P. Tamimi Arab (2016), ‘Dreams of an Iconic Mosque: Spatial and Temporal Entanglements of a Converted Church in Amsterdam’, Material Religion, 12 (2), 137–164. Bialasiewicz, L. (2017a), ‘“That which is not a Mosque”’, City, 21 (3–4), 367–387. Bialasiewicz, L. (2017b), ‘The Political Geographies of Muslim Visibility: Boundaries of Tolerance in the European City’, Eurozine. Accessed 20 July 2020 at https://​www​ .eurozine​.com/​the​-political​-geographies​-of​-muslim​-visibility/​. Bock, B., K. Kovacs and M. Shucksmith (2015), ‘Changing Social Characteristics, Patterns of Inequality and Exclusion’, in A.K. Copus and P. de Lima (eds), Territorial Cohesion in Rural Europe: The Relational Turn in Rural Development, London: Routledge, pp. 193–211. Burchardt, M. and I. Becci (2013), ‘Introduction: Religion takes Place: Producing Urban Locality’, in B. Irene, M. Burchardt and J. Casanova (eds), Topographies of Faith: Religion in Urban Spaces, Leiden: Brill, pp. 1–20. Burchardt, M. and M. Westendorp (2018), ‘The Im-materiality of Urban Religion: Towards an Ethnography of Urban Religious Aspirations’, Culture and Religion, 19 (2), 160–176.

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Cesari, J. (2005), ‘Mosque Conflicts in European Cities: Introduction’, Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 31 (6), 1015–1024. De Koster, W. (2010), ‘Online Forum Participatie en Offline Identiteitsvraagstukken’, Sociologie, 6 (4), 3–26. Della Dora, V. (2018), ‘Infrasecular Geographies: Making, Unmaking and Remaking Sacred Space’, Progress in Human Geography, 42, 44–71. Engberts, M. and C. Pierik (2019), Inventarisatie Regenboogbeleid Regenboogprovincies, Utrecht: Movisie Graham, C. and S. Crown (2014), ‘Religion and Wellbeing around the World: Social Purpose, Social Time, or Social Insurance?’, International Journal of Wellbeing, 4 (1), 1–27. Greed, C. (2016), ‘Religion and Sustainable Urban Planning: “If you can’t count it, or won’t count it, it doesn’t count”’, Sustainable Development, 24, 154–162. Hancock, C. (2019), ‘Accommodating Islamophobia: How Municipalities make Place for Muslims in Paris’, Social & Cultural Geography, 1–19. Havlíček, T. and K. Klingorová (2018), ‘City with or without God? Features of Post-secularism in Religious Landscape of Post-communist Prague’, Social & Cultural Geography, 19 (6), 789–811. Henkel, R. (2014), ‘The Changing Religious Space of Large Western European Cities’, Prace Geograficzne, 137, 7–15. Huijnk, W. (2018), De Religieuze Beleving van Molsims in Nederland: Diversiteit En Verandering in Beeld, Den Haag: Sociaal en Cultureel Planbureau. Johnson, A.M. and R. Miles (2014), ‘Toward more Inclusive Public Spaces: Learning from the Everyday Experiences of Muslim Arab Women in New York City’, Environment and Planning A, 46 (8), 1892–1907. Kapinga, L. and B. van Hoven (2020), ‘“You Can’t Just Be a Muslim in Outer Space”: Young People Making Sense of Religion at Local Places in the City’, Journal of Youth Studies, accessed at https://​doi​.org/​10​.1080/​13676261​.2020​.1757632. Knott, K. (2008), ‘Spatial Theory and the Study of Religion’, Religion Compass, 2 (6), 1102–1116. Kuppinger, P. (2014), ‘Flexible Topographies: Muslim Spaces in a German Cityscape’, Social & Cultural Geography, 15 (6), 627–644. Lefebvre, H. (1991), The Production of Space, Oxford: Blackwell. Manouchehrifar, B. (2018), ‘Is Planning “ Secular ”? Rethinking Religion, Secularism, and Planning’, Planning Theory & Practice, 19 (5), 653–677. Martínez-Ariño, J. (2019), ‘Governing Islam in French Cities: Defining “Acceptable” Public Religiosity through Municipal Consultative Bodies’, Religion, State and Society, 1–17. Maussen, M. (2014), ‘Religious Governance in the Netherlands: Associative Freedoms and Non-discrimination after “Pillarization”. The Example of Faith Based Schools’, Geopolitics, History, and International Relations, 6 (2), 37–63. McClymont, K. (2015), ‘Postsecular Planning? The Idea of Municipal Spirituality’, Planning Theory & Practice, 16 (4), 535–554. Phillips, D. (2015), ‘Claiming Spaces: British Muslim Negotiations of Urban Citizenship in an Era of New Migration’, Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, 40, 62–74. Radermacher, M. (2016), ‘Space, Religion, and Bodies: Aspects of Concrete Emplacements of Religious Practice’, Journal of Religion in Europe, 9 (4), 304–323. Reimer, B. (2004), ‘Social Exclusion in a Comparative Context’, Sociological Ruralis, 44 (1), 76–94.

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Ryan, L. (2014), ‘“Islam does not Change”: Young People Narrating Negotiations of Religion and Identity’, Journal of Youth Studies, 17 (4), 446–460. Salnikova, M. and B. D’Arcus (2019), ‘Spaces of Muslim Identity in Inverness, Scotland’, Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 39, 106–117. Sampson, R. and S.M. Gifford (2010), ‘Place-making, Settlement and Well-being: The Therapeutic Landscapes of Recently Arrived Youth with Refugee Backgrounds’, Health & Place, 16 (1), 116–131. Schwanen, T. and S. Atkinson (2015), ‘Geographies of Wellbeing: An Introduction’, Geographical Journal, 181 (2), 98–101. Smith, T.S.J. and L. Reid (2018), ‘Which “Being” in Wellbeing ? Ontology , Wellness and the Geographies of Happiness’, Progress in Human Geography, 42 (6), 807–829. Staeheli, L.A., D. Mitchell and C.R. Nagel (2009), ‘Making Publics: Immigrants, Regimes of Publicity and Entry to “The Public”’, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 27, 633–649. Stavrova, O., D. Fetchenhauer and T. Schlösser (2013), ‘Why are Religious People Happy? The Effect of the Social Norm of Religiosity across Countries’, Social Science Research, 42 (1), 90–105. Tamimi Arab, P. (2013), ‘Mosques in the Netherlands: Transforming the Meaning of Marginal Spaces’, Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 33 (4), 477–494. Trell, E.M., B. van Hoven and P.P.P. Huigen (2014), ‘Youth Negotiation and Performance of Masculine Identities in Rural Estonia’, Journal of Rural Studies, 34, 15–25. Valentine, G. and D. Sporton (2009), ‘“How Other People See You, It’s Like Nothing That’s Inside”: The Impact of Processes of Disidentification and Disavowal on Young People’s Subjectivities’, Sociology, 43 (4), 735–751. Van Liere, L. (2014), ‘Teasing “Islam”: Islam as the other Side of “Tolerance” in Contemporary Dutch Politics’, Journal of Contemporary Religion, 29 (2), 187–202. Watkins, C. (2005), ‘Representations of Space, Spatial Practices and Spaces of Representation: An Application of Lefebvre’s Spatial Triad’, Culture and Organization, 11 (3), 209–220. Watkins, F. and A. Jacoby (2007), ‘Is the Rural Idyll Bad for Your Health? Stigma and Exclusion in the English Countryside’, Health Place, 13 (4), 851–864. White, S.C. (2017), ‘Relational Wellbeing: Re-Centring the Politics of Happiness, Policy and the Self’, Policy & Politics, 45 (2), 121–136. Wight, I. (2012), ‘Place, Place-making and Planning: An Integral Perspective with Wellbeing in (Body) Mind (and Spirit)’, in S. Atkinson, S. Fuller and J. Painter (eds), Wellbeing and Place, London: Routledge, pp. 231–247. Witten, K., R. Kearns and P. Carroll (2015), ‘Urban Inclusion as Wellbeing: Exploring Children’s Accounts of Confronting Diversity on Inner City Streets’, Social Science & Medicine, 133, 349–357.

11. Children experiencing happiness in the city Maria Jesus Alfaro-Simmonds INTRODUCTION Understanding what makes a happy city is a complex and varied challenge. This is especially so when focusing on how children and adolescents experience happiness within their urban surroundings. Seeking answers to these questions naturally opens a wider discussion regarding what children and young people understand by happiness in terms of their spatial experiences. In this chapter I deal with these questions and put forward the case that happiness for children and adolescents is not only an individual but rather a more social experience that can be shaped and enhanced by their local surroundings. In particular, by identifying the spaces in the city where children locate their everyday experiences, this chapter examines how children and young people’s everyday experiences of happiness relate to their urban surroundings. The concept or definition of happiness can change over time and across cultures, situations and individuals, yet it is commonly agreed that happiness provides purpose to most aspects of our lives (Thin, 2012). However, while there is by now a vast body of research on happiness based on measuring subjective wellbeing, studies regarding children’s and adolescents’ happiness have been less common. These have traditionally drawn on parents and guardians as the most relevant voices representing children’s wellbeing (Hayes, 2002). Yet, with the appearance of the Convention on the Rights of the Child [CRC] in 1989, research took an important shift towards acknowledging children as experts of their own lives, their own happiness and their subjective wellbeing. In this chapter I discuss happiness beyond self-reported subjective measures, which can be criticized as being overly individualistic (Atkinson et al., 2020). Instead, my approach examines how happiness is mediated by people’s interactions with particular characteristics of urban spaces such as their accessibility, perceived safety and environmental quality. Furthermore, while the majority of wellbeing research is limited to adults, I argue that there should be more focus on how children and adolescents experience happiness within the 164

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everyday spaces in which they live and where their individual and community identity is shaped. Awareness of children’s everyday experiences of happiness and space can provide a more accurate and daily insight towards how the urban spaces shape their lives as citizens unveiling a series of considerations of how the urban realm is lived and experienced in times and ways different to adults. The study follows the new sociology of childhood that acknowledges children and young people as social agents and experts of their own experiences (Matthews, 2007, p. 324). Reporting on a combined qualitative and quantitative study with children and adolescents in Lima, Peru conducted in 2018, I suggest that understanding children and young people’s happiness involves paying attention to their everyday experiences that gain meaning and significance in relation to the nature and quality of the urban spaces they use within the city. Wellbeing research within a variety of disciplines (for example, human geography, urban and regional studies, urban planning, psychology, sociology, economics) has explored if, and to what extent the environment affects how we feel. Typically, research on this matter has focused on macro geographical levels, such as regions and countries (for example in this volume: Azmi, Chapter 9 on wellbeing in post-war Sri Lanka, and Hendriks, Chapter 15 on happiness and migration). Yet, some studies have focused on wellbeing in urban and suburban metropolitan areas, building upon a combination of objective and subjective measures (for example Kapinga and Bock, Chapter 10 this volume). Studies regarding children and young people’s urban wellbeing have reported on their overall wellbeing similarly based on a combination of objective elements such as school performance, family structure, use of digital technology, household income, among others and subjective questions regarding satisfaction with life as a whole (for example, Rees et al., 2016; The Children’s Society, 2019; Adamson, 2013). These studies have mostly applied adult questionnaires with reduced efforts to tailor these to children. Limited studies have included a more urban and subjective approach acknowledging children as experts rather than objects of study. Among them for example, Kyttä et al. (2012) and Laatikainen et al. (2017) aimed to identify features of the urban environment that children, adults and elderly, experience and perceive as positive, appealing and attractive within their living urban environments. Their findings reported the usage and perceptions of spaces as positive differed between age groups. Likewise, Freeman (2017) has explored the wider possibilities of cities as enhancers of happiness for children. She concluded that cities which provide social opportunities and natural spaces have the potential to enhance children’s happiness. Recent studies have also advocated for children’s rights to play, with a renewed emphasis on promoting ‘child-friendly cities’ as a way to support ‘happy, healthy families in a playful, friendly city’ (Gehl Institute and Gehl, 2018).

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Previous studies in human geography have explored the relationship between place and feelings of contentment, joy and happiness in terms of health and wellbeing (Kerns and Collins, 2010), and have viewed wellbeing as intertwined within the social, cultural, economic and political context of childhood (Blazek and Windram-Geddes, 2013). Also it is widely acknowledged that social and geographical context play a significant role upon individual subjective wellbeing (Wilkinson and Pickett, 2009). By doing empirical research with children and adolescents from different socio-economic contexts, this chapter identifies the main urban spaces where children and adolescents locate their experiences of happiness. It proposes a set of three variables operating as mediators of those experiences and suggests that the urban context can either enhance or constrain, their experiences of happiness. The specific regional urban context of Peru, Latin America is characterized by rapid growth, and is historically defined by urban fragmentation, inequality, insecurity, corruption and environmental degradation (Fernandes, 2011; Inostroza, 2017). In that sense this particular array of urban traits challenge and shape how children and adolescents from Latin America experience happiness in place, suggesting that we cannot assume their experiences to be universal, but rather context dependent. As leading figures in the field of happiness studies have observed, ‘Unfortunately, the nature of happiness has not been defined in a uniform way’ (Diener et al., 2009, p. 68). The concept of happiness is elusive and multi-dimensional, and the literature on happiness broad and multidisciplinary. Researchers, for instance often prefer using the wider term ‘wellbeing’, which turns out to be a more inclusive term than ‘happiness’, as it comprises both objective [OWB] and subjective wellbeing [SWB]. SWB is commonly used as a synonym for happiness (Angner, 2010; Diener et al., 2009; Dolan et al., 2008; Ryff, 1989; Veenhoven, 2012). Sometimes the term happiness is used interchangeably with terms such as life satisfaction (Góngora and Castro Solano, 2014; Rojas, 2007), positive affect (Fredrickson and Losada, 2005), welfare (Taylor, 2011) and quality of life (Møller, 2007; Zikmund, 2003). Quality of life is understood as the extent to which a person is satisfied with their surrounding conditions, both social and physical including features of being, belonging and becoming (Renwick, 1996). Studies widely define QoL as the comfort an individual can achieve from their social and physical surroundings (Mulligan et al., 2004). QoL research has primarily used either objective or subjective variables. The first mostly based on available secondary data related to the individual (e.g. income, employment rate, age, health, human capital) and their environment, based on the quantity and quality of natural and human-created amenities (for example, climate, education, health services, leisure opportunities, environmental pollution). The second uses data from social surveys which aim to measure participants’ levels of life satisfac-

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tion. A combined approach has become commonplace as a more holistic way of understanding wellbeing, which for many remains an elusive term. These multiple definitions have been generally proposed and treated as globally universal, suggesting happiness is likely to be equally valued across different cultures (Ryff and Keyes, 1995; Ryan et al., 1996). Yet, whilst it is likely that people overall will prefer the pleasurable over the unpleasant (Adler et al., 2017; Veenhoven, 1991), it is also likely that what drives those preferences and what people understand by happiness might differ considerably across cultures (Kitayama et al., 2000; Uchida et al., 2004).

HAPPINESS: AN INSIGHT FROM LATIN AMERICA By being high in happiness in global rankings, Latin American nations have posed a paradox by suggesting that very poor people, living in unequal conditions might be happier than wealthier people living in fair conditions. Graham and Pettinato (2002) called this phenomenon ‘the paradox of happy peasants and frustrated achievers’ (as cited in Graham, 2009, p. 151). What lies behind this is the argument that happiness emerges from a variety of non-materialistic values (Rojas, 2016), such as the role of family ties, social cohesion, social fragmentation, among others (Beytia, 2016; Millan, 2016; Mochon Morcillo and de Juan Diaz, 2016; Yamamoto, 2016).This is often referred to as ‘buen vivir’ (good living, living well), which emphasizes the role of community belonging and the relationship with nature as a way of living a balanced fulfilled life (Cubillo-Guevara et al., 2016; and see Biedenweg and Trimbach, Chapter 16 this volume). In this way, happiness research in Latin America could provide a different, and more human-centric approach to happiness studies. In my study, I draw on these ideas about buen vivir, and approach happiness as a social phenomenon, as suggested by Thin (2012). This explains happiness as an ongoing engagement with the world through experiences linked to affective and cognitive mechanisms capable of turning pleasurable experiences into meaningful episodes of our lives. In doing so, Thin has called for attention to the ‘meso-world of society – families, clubs, workplaces, community organizations, social movements, social networks and thematic institutions’ (2012, p. 15). These are explored from a meso-level, arguing happiness is not only private but a social process. In that sense, the chapter explores children and adolescents’ happiness as a shared social experience, where the continuity of momentary emotional states and enjoyable experiences gain relevance in one’s life when shared with others. These experiences are also shaped by the urban physical environment in which they occur.

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CHILDREN’S AND ADOLESCENTS’ URBAN HAPPINESS Whether our urban surroundings matter or not when it comes to happiness is a question yet to reach an unequivocal answer. For children and adolescents, the relationship between their individual experiences and their local surroundings are particularly relevant as their identities are shaped and constructed within their everyday spaces (Holloway and Valentine, 2000), the city being among these. However, research seeking children and young people’s voices on their happiness or wellbeing as affected by their environment or their QoL, had mostly been done in relation to specific settings, for example, school, community centres, or neighbourhood (Koch, 2018; Moses, 2006; Stasulane, 2017) or specific variables, such as health or cognitive development (Ravens-Sieberer et al., 2005; Toscano et al., 2018). What seems to be still missing is a more detailed consideration of the relationship between children’s and adolescents’ everyday use of space, and the conditions under which spaces become places. This is, as defined by Tuan ([1977] 2011), under what circumstances spaces understood as purely locations turn into places filled with meaning to an individual. Only a few studies so far have attempted to interrogate the role of the physical surroundings upon children’s and adolescents’ positive emotions (Chaudhury et al., 2019; Kyttä et al., 2012; Rasmussen, 2004). In contrast to adults, for whom the neighbourhood might be as well, just a supporting scenario, for children and adolescents, urban spaces play a unifying role as the main scenario for their everyday experiences (Carroll et al., 2015) and social interaction (Horton et al., 2013). In that sense, urban space has the capacity not only to be translated into significant places for hanging out, to play, to have fun, but also to shape their lives as they grow up. Experiences of space can therefore strengthen their sense of belonging (Chawla, 1992; Matthews, 2003) and inform their identity, individually and collectively. By using urban space in between home and school, children’s and adolescents’ everyday experiences are commonly embedded in and affected by the city. Their lives are intertwined with their urban context (Seamon, 2014), shaping and being shaped by the city (Foley and Leverett, 2011). Consequently, the city has the capacity to frame, inform and shape more specifically their everyday experiences of happiness or unhappiness. In this way, the availability, accessibility and quality of their immediate urban environment is essential to their current and future lives (O’Brien, 2003). It is through their different uses and occupation of street space, including their encounter with adults, that young and older children, girls and boys, explore and

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come to understand their own present and prospective social relations and positions. (Christensen and O’Brien, 2003, p. 6)

Context and Methods: Eliciting Experiences of Happiness in the City This study conducted in Lima in 2018 formed part of a wider research project which aimed to examine children’s and adolescents’ everyday experiences of happiness in the urban environment. To achieve this, I spent considerable time over five months listening to children and adolescents aged 8‒16 (n=152). We discussed how they construct the concept of happiness, when they experience happiness and where and to what extent they experience happiness in their urban surroundings. The Latin American city of Lima, capital of Peru with over 9 million inhabitants contains almost a third (32 per cent) of the country’s population, 20 per cent of which are children between 6 and 17 years old. Geographically it covers over two and a half square kilometres and holds a density of almost 3,800 inhabitants per square kilometre. This is similar to Berlin, which is considered one of the most densely populated cities in central Europe, and almost triple that of Beijing, one of the most populated cities in the world. Its current urban configuration is the result of various waves of internal migration during the 20th century. Lima has been subject to a rapid and accelerated urbanization process which has posed a considerable challenge to the organization of urban planning and infrastructure. The city is politically divided into 43 districts, grouped locally in four areas upon location and socio-economic classification [SEC]. Lima Centre, Lima North, Lima South and Lima East. First, used within local market research studies, soon its use expanded to urban, economic and political research. Lima is something of a divided city, comprised of two distinct urban contexts. One is the central, consolidated, formally urbanized part, inhabited mostly by high or medium high socio-economic groups.1 This part of the city includes districts within the area of Lima Centre. The other is the peripheral city, undergoing simultaneous and overlapping consolidation and expansion processes, self-built developments, and is inhabited by mostly medium-low or low socio-economic groups.2 Districts in the latter are locally grouped in three areas, Lima North, Lima South and Lima East. My study compared the areas of Lima Centre, Lima North and Lima South. The mixed methods study included a photo mapping activity with 126 participants, a survey and qualitative interviews. Asking young people to work with cameras and photographs has proved to be effective in engaging participants with the purpose of the research as it is not a usual activity for them (Matthews and Tucker, 2000). It gives children and adolescents a different way to communicate their thoughts. Rather than verbally it builds on their strengths, providing them with the opportunity to combine visual and

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verbal language (Cappello, 2016; Einarsdottir, 2005). Furthermore, by using photographs the researcher gains additional insight into the nuances of young people’s everyday lives (Leonard and McKnight, 2014). It also provides both the researcher and the participant with an accurate way to identify which feature is under discussion (Veitch et al., 2016). Participants were provided with disposable cameras and were asked to take pictures of the urban spaces where they normally spend time and feel happy. Following this, a workshop was arranged for the participants to have their pictures back and work on a mapping exercise. Participants received their developed pictures and a Google Earth print map of their local area. With both elements they were asked to identify in the map, the places appearing in the pictures. Thirty participants were asked to participate in a follow-up photo-elicited interview regarding their pictures. This provided a more in-depth knowledge of the reasons and motivations behind each place pictured. An in-school social survey was conducted with 724 participants. This focused on youth perceptions of urban happiness with different natural and human-created amenities in their local surroundings. Participants were asked to rate natural amenities (for example, parks, trees, flowers, water bodies, among others) and human-created amenities (for example, squares, streets, neighbourhood cleanliness, noise, among others) on a five-scale graphic system, from very sad to very happy. Children’s and Adolescents’ Everyday Experiences of Happy Places in Lima Beyond the spaces of the house and the school, children’s and adolescents’ everyday experiences take place in an array of urban spaces. In this way their everyday experiences of place are regularly grounded and shaped by and within the city. The street, the neighbourhood, the urban realm transcend their physical character and become an integral part of children’s and adolescents’ everyday experiences. By discussing and identifying different types of urban spaces, children and adolescents in Lima were keen to reflect on their experiences of happiness within the urban realm. Urban spaces are in the context of this study, any space in the city different to the home and school where children are likely to spend time. These include for example public spaces such as parks or the street and private spaces such as restaurants or shopping malls. Discussing their photographs, children and adolescents in Lima first proved to consider urban spaces

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as a key element of their regular spare time dynamic. One of the participants explained: I decided to take the pictures in the places where I play, because is then, when I feel happy. I usually play outdoors, in the afternoons every day. (Celia, girl, 8 years old, Lima North)

Celia described playing outdoors almost as a routinely everyday activity proving it is key to her everyday experiences. Likewise, survey data revealed that only a minority (14 per cent) reported spending time outdoors every day of the week, whilst overall 77 per cent of participants, played or met with friends in urban spaces at least once a week (Figure 11.1). Forty-six per cent of the participants reported spending between one and two hours with friends outside their house/school (Figure 11.2). When asked to describe their photographs, out of a total of 466 pictures (Lima North n=181, Lima South n=237, Lima Centre n=48), the overall majority depicted parks (n=166, 35.6 per cent), streets (n=124, 26.6 per cent) and commercial areas (n=98, 21 per cent). The first one included local parks of a variety of sizes, the second included streets, pedestrian roads, public stairs and cycle lanes. Commercial areas, on the other hand, included shopping malls, supermarkets, local markets as well as cinemas and convenience stores. Additionally, whilst parks were commonly referred to among all studied areas, photographs from Lima Centre revealed a higher preference towards commercial areas whilst those from Lima South and North depicted more sport areas. Streets, on the other hand, were only mentioned by participants from the periphery. This reveals their experiences of happiness within the urban space to be determined by the context and the varied socio-economic opportunities they have, or do not have. Parks and streets were preferred and identified as places for everyday happiness, due to their versatility and ample possibilities as places for playing outside, running, practicing sports and being physically active. They also described them as enhancers of social opportunities, as these are spaces for meeting friends and hanging out. Saul and Diana illustrated this by sharing why they took some of their pictures. They explained it as follows and illustrated it in Figures 11.3 and 11.4. I asked my mom to photograph me in the park near my home because I feel happy there. I can meet my friends, run, jump and play soccer, it is always fun. (Saul, Lima North, boy, 8 years old) I took pictures of the street because I usually play there with my sister. Outside my house, we can ride bike, scooter, play volleyball, many things. (Diana, Lima North, girl, 8 years old)

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Figure 11.1

How often do you play/meet with friends in outdoor spaces?

Figure 11.2

How much time do you spend with your friends in outdoor spaces?

Adolescents shared similar preferences regarding parks and streets. Yet, for them parks and outdoor spaces gain more value as spaces for socializing with peers (Loukaitou-Sideris and Sideris, 2009). Instead of playing, adolescent participants referred to parks as gathering places to meet and chat. Andrea explained it as follows: The park near my house, it is a place where I can gather with my friends. We meet a couple of days a week after school and chat. (Andrea, Lima South, girl, 14 years old)

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Figure 11.3

Parks as places for experiencing happiness

Figure 11.4

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Similarly, commercial areas were also valued as providers of social opportunities. Shopping malls, supermarkets and local markets were described fundamentally as social spaces. Whilst both children and adolescents included commercial spaces in their narratives, it was mainly adolescents who preferred commercial spaces as gathering points with peers. They described them as

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places to meet friends, feel comfortable, spend time, feel safe and use disposable income. Jefferson, Briana and Fabiola illustrated this as follows: If I am not in the park with my mates, I meet them at the shopping mall, where we feel comfortable. (Jefferson, Lima South, boy, 15 years old) When I go out, and want to feel happy, I go to the shopping mall with my friends. As we are all girls, we know is safer there than meeting in the street or a park. (Briana, Lima South, girl, 15 years old) I also like going to the shopping mall with my friends. Sometimes they will come to my house and we will then go to the ‘Rambla’ (a shopping mall). We like spending time wondering around. It is easy to just stay there. When we go to the shopping mall, we can be there from 30 minutes up to 5‒6 hours. There are many shops, and we get to see what we like or dislike, try out things. Shopping makes us really happy. (Fabiola, Lima Centre, girl, 14 years old)

The data revealed that children and adolescents potentially preferred urban spaces due to their social opportunities. However, there were three additional traces of urban life affecting children’s and adolescents’ experiences of happiness in the city: accessibility; safety perception; and environmental quality. The first determines whether or not children and adolescents have sufficient opportunities to experience and be part of the city. The second regulates whether they will be allowed or not to experience the urban space. The latter establishes whether that experience will be more or less pleasant. Overall, these urban traces operate interlaced mediating children’s and adolescents’ experiences of happiness. Participants’ use of different urban spaces in Lima varied according to how convenient they are in terms of what is available, physically and economically. Children from the peripheral city (Lima North and South), found available affordable opportunities for social encounters and happiness experiences in local parks, soccer slabs or the street. Likewise, their pictures unveiled open ground, derelict, unused areas also to be part of their everyday experiences. Children living in these more deprived areas found these spaces to be places they could use, appropriate and transform. Daniel explained it as follows and depicted it in Figure 11.5. This is a place we call ‘the pampa’. It is a place where we can do lots of things. With my friends we normally use it as soccer field. It is a happy place because it is what we want it to be. (Daniel, Lima South, boy, 8 years old)

By contrast children from Lima Centre, a more affluent area of the city, showed a relative disconnection from the city and urban spaces in general. Discussing their happy places, they quickly mentioned touristic places within and outside of the country. However, they mostly failed to identify happy spaces in their

Children experiencing happiness in the city

Figure 11.5

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Availability of urban spaces as a variable mediating urban happiness

local surroundings. Urban space appeared to be a restricted space (De Visscher and Bouverne-De Bie, 2008), as their daily after school routine takes place mostly in institutionalized settings such as afterschool academies and recreational private institutions (for example, private clubs, private gyms) inside or in the outskirts of the city, to which they are normally driven. Discussions regarding their experiences of happiness reflected this disconnection as many participants revealed ‘not going anywhere’. A girl explained it as follows during a general discussion in class: During weekday, afterschool I go back to my home. In the weekend we don’t go anywhere. I go to my room, in my house. Sometimes, very rarely I go to my friend’s house. Sometimes I go to Wong (a local supermarket), sometimes to the shopping mall, but mostly, I stay in my house in pyjamas, all day, all weekend. (Lima Centre, girl, 10 years old)

This overall accessibility mediated children’s and adolescents’ decision-making process, affecting their experiences of urban space. Children and adolescents from different socio-economic backgrounds built up different kinds of relationships with their living environments. Children living in more deprived areas appeared to have a more varied experience of their urban surroundings whilst children living in more affluent areas rarely identify urban spaces as

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part of their everyday lives. Economic accessibility might provide alternative experiences of private spaces but in return limit their experiences of public spaces in the city. A second dimension of how urban experience mediates the experiences of happiness of children in the city are perceptions of safety. Children’s and adolescents’ experiences of the city are continually affected by their overall perception of the city and the potential hazards they might be exposed to. In my study, six out of ten participants in Lima considered insecurity as a problem either in their local neighbourhood or in their wider districts. Furthermore, 30 per cent of them stopped going outdoors as a result of feeling unsafe. The following quotes show how they acted upon that feeling. You grow up knowing that there are areas of the neighbourhood more dangerous than others. At the end there is no place safe, safe. You know? We need to be always aware and take precautions. Do not go out late (…) avoid gangs and not talk to strangers. (…) You don’t stop doing things, you just take care of yourself and remain alert. (Joseph, Lima South, boy, 15 years old) I feel frustrated on doing this exercise (think on spaces in the city where you feel happy). (…) I hardly go outside. I cannot even go to the corner or to the convenience store walking on my own. My dad says I can get robbed or worst kidnapped. (Laura, Lima Centre, girl, 12 years old; other girls in the class nodded their heads confirming what she was saying)

These quotes exemplified how children and adolescents in Lima are aware of the potential dangers of their urban context. They understand potential risks (‘do not go out late’, ‘do not be alone you can get robbed’). However, this might also be a reflection of parental fears amplified or an over exposition to a variety of unsafe conditions constantly displayed by the media (Thomas and Hocking, 2003). Both Joseph and Laura were aware of the risks of navigating the city, however their attitudes towards it were quite opposite. For Joseph from the peripheral Lima South his safety perceptions framed his experience of the city but did not constrain it. In contrast for Laura from the more affluent Lima Centre, her perception of safety stopped her from going out and navigating her urban surroundings. Safety perception appeared to be more of a restraining factor for children from more affluent areas of the city. Several agreed they did not know the city well and were not allowed to navigate it due to the high levels of insecurity. A third and final variable which shaped children’s and adolescents’ experiences of happiness in my study of Lima was environmental quality. The presence or absence of noise, cleanliness, and overall aesthetics of the natural environment (for example, trees and plants) and built amenities (for example, playgrounds, sport areas) among others, were assessed by participants whilst discussing their preferred urban spaces. Their evaluation of each space under

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this variable, determined whether they have a more or less pleasant experience of the urban space. This is either an enhanced or constrained everyday experience of happiness. The quality of the immediate physical environment is key for children growing up in urban areas, as it shapes key spaces for identity and confidence building (Christensen and O’Brien, 2003). Participants agreed on cleanliness as the main attribute to consider for enhancing their happiness experience. The following quote illustrates how the lack of cleanliness might turn a pleasant experience into an unpleasant one, constraining their experiences of happiness. The park used to be a place where I felt happy, but now every time I go there is always rubbish. It makes the park and the street smell bad. It is not a happy place anymore. (Adrian, Lima South, boy, 8 years old)

Likewise results from the survey uncovered that 45 per cent of participants felt either sad or very sad regarding the cleanliness in their neighbourhoods. A detailed look, however, revealed this was consistent for children and adolescents living in the peripheries, yet, for those living in Lima Centre, the results were reversed. Forty-five per cent of participants in Lima North and 43 per cent in Lima South, expressed that they were sad or very sad with the cleanliness in their local surroundings. A much lower 27 per cent of participants from Lima Centre agreed with the same statement. This proves evident contextual differences and unequal urban quality across the city. Additionally, participants shared their concerns on issues regarding overall urban maintenance. Children and adolescents from all studied areas discussed the state of wall painting, maintenance of green areas and maintenance of urban equipment (for example, playgrounds, benches) as traits affecting their place experiences. The following quote narrates a critical assessment of the local park and its surroundings. It provides an insight towards how the quality of the built environment can make happier the experiences within the urban space. Besides the cleanliness, the walls are not well painted, the playground is rusted and out of order, the grass is not green anymore, and there are not enough trees. I like playing there (in the local park) but feel like it could be way better. I will definitely feel happier and play more there if it improves. (Boy, Lima South, 8 years old)

Children and adolescents proved to be aware and affected by their local surroundings. However, whilst it is undeniable that the quality of the built environment plays a key role in children’s and adolescents’ experiences of place, this might not be necessarily directly related to its usage. In some cases, participants seemed to have learnt to live with or put up with a certain degree of environmental degradation due to the meaning attached to the place. Jorge

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illustrates it in Figure 11.6. He described a run-down soccer field, not very well cared after. He critically described it as an overall contaminated space, however, this did not stop him from using it. The reason is the meaning it holds for him and his friends who will continue to use it whilst they can. He explained it as follows: I like it (the soccer field) very much because it is big, and I enjoy very nice moments with friends. (…) The only problem is, now it is too contaminated (with rubbish and parked or abandoned cars). (…) Now that the population had grown it has become worse. The contamination is taking out space from the field and gives a very poor and ugly appearance. It does not take away that the place is still good, and we can still gather and use it, but it plays against it. (Jorge, Lima South, boy, 14 years old)

This does not mean we should not do anything about it, on the contrary, it provides evidence of the importance of listening to young people and echoing their voices towards better urban spaces for all.

Figure 11.6

Environmental quality as a variable mediating urban happiness

CONCLUSIONS: CITIES CAN ENHANCE HAPPINESS By using an experiential approach this chapter challenges the individualized emphasis of wellbeing studies and highlights the importance of social life as a driver of happiness. Moreover, I have explored the role of local urban space

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as central part of children’s and adolescent’s everyday experiences of happiness. In doing so, I showed that the adult-dominant approach used in urban happiness studies is underpinned by a biased understanding of how the city is experienced. Inclusion of young people’s voices regarding their experiences of happiness within the urban space enables a notion of urban happiness that unveils a series of overlooked considerations regarding urban wellbeing. Being aware of the complexity behind children’s everyday experiences of happiness and space is important, as these can provide different and more daily, detailed and accurate insights towards the construction of better, happier and more inclusive cities for all. For children and adolescents in a city as socio-economically unequal as Lima, the urban context was a significant factor in shaping their everyday experiences of place and happiness. The varied and multiple ways in which participants described experiencing happiness in the city revealed transactions with the space that are at the same time unique and shared. Overall children agreed that urban spaces could enhance social opportunities. Yet their experiences and attitudes towards those places were also affected and shaped by their different urban contexts. In the case of Lima, the fully developed, highly affluent areas of Lima Centre are also restricted and, in many cases, unknown areas for young people who can afford access to private recreational spaces, but lack a sense of community, resulting from a superficial relation with their local surroundings. By contrast, children living in more deprived areas of the periphery have an enriched sense of awareness and sense of community that provides them with a more varied and grounded experience of the city as they grow up. What this uncovers is a hidden structure of how inequality continues to perpetuate itself, by shaping the experiences and lives of different kinds of citizens within the same city. Considering how young people’s everyday experiences of happiness are related and affected by other people, their local surroundings and their context can provide a valuable insight towards understanding youth urban happiness. As such, urban happiness can be pragmatically approached through a set of variables that have relevance and can be practically assessed by local planners and policy makers. Attempts to transform cities into happy cities, for children and for all, need to go beyond individual and generic subjective wellbeing measures, towards considering more fully the ways in which the urban realm operates and mediates how people of all ages experience the city. In doing so, new policy approaches can emerge. Policies that focus on how the physical environment and aspects concerning urban management affect wellbeing not only for young but for all urban dwellers; and that place particular emphasis on safeguarding and guaranteeing the conditions for enhancing the quality of community life and a sociable urban environment.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS The research for this chapter was funded through a PhD scholarship awarded by the Peruvian National Council on Science and Technology [CONCYTEC], contract number 089-2016-FONDECYT-DE.

NOTES 1.

This corresponds to an average family income between 2,000 and 3,700 American dollars (APEIM, 2018). 2. This corresponds to an average family income between 760 and 1,050 American dollars (APEIM, 2018).

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12. Housing inequalities and wellbeing: a critical analysis of narratives from stakeholders in Luxembourg Magdalena Górczyńska-Angiulli and Elise Machline INTRODUCTION TO THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN HOUSING INEQUALITIES AND WELLBEING Poor access to decent housing or living in unaffordable housing have a direct impact on physical and mental health, relations with others, and children’s development (OECD, 2011). Housing fulfils different human needs and has a number of outcomes that contribute to people’s wellbeing. It provides shelter, security, privacy, fulfils social needs, self-esteem and allows self-expression. Housing location affects the access to community facilities, services and jobs (Vera-Toscano and Ateca-Amestoy, 2008). Living conditions and access to housing affect objective and subjective wellbeing (Searle et al., 2009; Solari and Mare, 2012; Smith et al., 2017; Marquez et al., 2019). In particular, tenants and low-income households suffer from diminished wellbeing due to poorer housing quality (Dekker et al., 2011), higher levels of stress associated with the tenure transition (Smith et al., 2017), or housing instability linked to unaffordability, frequent moves or evictions and homelessness (Carder et al., 2018). By improving housing conditions and the access to decent and affordable housing, public policies may mitigate social inequalities and boost people’s wellbeing. This chapter adds to the debate on the impacts of housing on wellbeing by exploring the narratives of public stakeholders involved in setting the agenda for housing policy and developing subsidized housing. It sheds light on similarities and differences between the concepts of wellbeing developed at different stages of public policy-making process: from housing policy formulation to implementation. Specifically, we explore the impact of a mixed model of an asset-based welfare and housing welfare on wellbeing outcomes of lower and middle-income households. Asset-based welfare policies focus on subsidization and development of owner-occupied housing while the housing welfare 185

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model focuses on the development of social rental housing (Norris and Fahey, 2011). In this way, both models target low- and middle-income households. To address these issues, we take a case study of Luxembourg. With a surface of only 2,586 km2 and 613,894 inhabitants (2019), Luxembourg is facing a widening imbalance between housing demand and supply. This is due to a large population inflow associated with an expansion of Luxembourg’s economy and its attractive labour market. Between 1990 and 2019, the population in Luxembourg grew by 62 per cent (STATEC, 2020). Despite the availability of constructible land, affordable housing construction is low. One explanation is that only 10 per cent of constructible land is publicly owned. In addition, individual landlords have no interest to sell their land because of continuing price increase. Consequently, house prices rose by 50 per cent between 2010 and 2018, compared to 15 per cent on average in the European Union (Eurostat, 2019). In the same period, the average housing cost-to-income ratio increased by 15.8 per cent (Housing Observatory, 2020a). In particular, low and middle-income households face severe difficulties to rent or purchase a dwelling (Housing Observatory, 2020b). Over the past forty years, a mixed model of an asset-based welfare and housing welfare has been developing in Luxembourg. The State grants individual allowances for homebuyers and subsidies for public and private developers delivering affordable housing for sale. Social rentals have been also developed but to a lower extent. This resulted in tenure imbalance with 69 per cent of homeowners and 4 per cent tenants in housing at reduced rent (Housing Observatory, 2020a). To remedy this issue, a greater emphasis is currently put on a development of social and affordable rentals and housing allowances for tenants on the private market. Our findings show a divergence between the concepts of wellbeing in housing policy and practice. Legal documents highlight the relationship between housing quality and life quality but leave room for interpretation of these terms. The housing-related stakeholders share the view that economic attributes (price, rent, affordability ratio) are the key housing features. However, their visions on other housing characteristics are mixed. Our findings show the need for a greater collaboration across different hierarchical levels, public and non-governmental housing actors. This would allow to better diagnose housing needs, to define effective and socially just housing interventions. It is necessary to mitigate widening social inequalities in access to housing. We also postulate testing the participatory methods involving people having difficulties to find decent and affordable accommodation to understand their needs and expectations. These understandings would inform the stakeholders about issues beyond economic housing features that are important for this population.

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THE ROLE OF HOUSING IN SHAPING WELLBEING OUTCOMES Housing is considered an important component of wellbeing and life quality (Lu, 1999) because of numerous human needs that it fulfils. It provides shelter, security, privacy, status, social relations, community facilities and services, access to jobs and control over the environment (for example, Vera-Toscano and Ateca-Amestoy, 2008). Objective living conditions (for example, housing cost, quality, tenure) are critically important to individual wellbeing (Clapham et al., 2018) and determine health inequalities (Dunn, 2002; Shaw, 2004). Moreover, housing cost is the largest monthly expenditure in the household budget. Thus, living in unaffordable housing may limit the non-housing expenses making households ‘shelter poor’ (Stone, 2006) which directly decrease individual wellbeing. Recently, linking housing and wellbeing appears in the debates about the new definition of affordable housing aimed at combating social inequalities. Mulliner and Maliene (2015) suggest the term ‘sustainable housing affordability’ that combines economic, social and environmental factors, and directly relates to household wellbeing. Elsinga et al. (2020) argue that wellbeing is one of the moral values present throughout the housing debate that could support the debate on affordable housing and be explicitly applied in housing policy and design. Research on housing-related determinants of wellbeing typically conceptualize wellbeing as residential satisfaction, life satisfaction (subjective wellbeing) or health. Residential satisfaction is a cognitive construct that measures the gap between household’s desired and actual residential situation (Galster, 1987), and might be a criterion of residential quality or residential mobility (Amérigo and Aragonés, 1990; Pacione, 1990). It is measured by self-reported evaluation of overall residential satisfaction (for example, Lu, 1999) or by satisfaction with housing or neighbourhood attributes (for example, Canter and Rees, 1982; Adriaanse, 2007). The vast literature on residential satisfaction has proposed a wide range of objective and subjective determining factors (see Table 12.1 for an overview). Recently, institutional factors have been identified as important determinants of residential satisfaction, particularly in public (affordable) housing. These include planning policies and design approaches (Riazi and Emami, 2018), the effects of the household registration system on access to housing (Dang et al., 2019), public allocation schemes (Huang and Du, 2015) or satisfaction with management (Paris and Kangari, 2005; Ibem and Aduwo, 2013). While residential satisfaction is a subjective measure, health is used as an objective or subjective outcome measure for housing related wellbeing. Empirical studies have demonstrated that health is affected by living condi-

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Table 12.1

A modern guide to wellbeing research

An overview of research on housing-related determinants of residential and life satisfaction

Determinants

Variables

Empirical studies

Objective,

Social environment (social/ethnic

Dekker et al 2011; Dang et al 2019

social

composition, migrants vs natives) Housing costs (including fuel poverty)

Lu 1999; Churchill et al 2020

Housing tenure (tenancy or homeownership)

Elsinga and Hoekstra 2005; Dekker et al 2011; Balestra and Sultan 2013; Ibem and Aduwo 2013; Herbers and Mulder 2017; Nguyen et al 2018; Dang et al 2019

Objective,

Characteristics of a dwelling (e g type,

Galster 1987; van Praag et al 2003;

physical

surface, crowding, equipment, comfort, home

Dekker et al 2011; Balestra and Sultan,

improvements)

2013; Ibem and Aduwo 2013; Herbers and Mulder 2017; Nguyen et al 2018

Residential density

Amérigo and Aragonés 1990

Characteristics of the neighbourhood (e g

Dang et al 2019

percentage of public housing, old building stock) Subjective,

Quality of environment (pollution, cleanness,

Amérigo and Aragonés 1990; Phillips

social

noise)

et al 2005; Fernández-Portero et al 2017; Nguyen et al 2018; Tucker and Abass 2018

Social environment (social/ethnic composition

Phillips et al 2005; Vera-Toscano and

in the neighbourhood; migrants vs natives;

Ateca-Amestoy 2008; Dekker et al

feeling safe/ unsafe; density level; crime)

2011; Balestra and Sultan 2013; Lee et al 2017; Boschman 2018; Riazi and Emami 2018

Attachment and relationships with neighbours

Amérigo and Aragonés 1990; Riazi and Emami 2018

Empowerment (self-efficacy, participation in

Seilheimer and Doyal 1996; Ibem and

housing development)

Aduwo 2013

Subjective,

Quality of a dwelling (surface, number of

Amérigo and Aragonés 1990; Phillips

physical

bedrooms, equipment, technical infrastructure,

et al 2005; Nguyen et al 2018

architecture) Burden with housing costs, house price

Balestra and Sultan 2013; Nguyen et al 2018; Riazi and Emami 2018

Quality and distance to amenities (e g shops,

Amérigo and Aragonés 1990; Dekker

parks, other services, public transport)

et al 2011; Balestra and Sultan 2013; Dinç et al 2014

tions (Kearns et al., 1992; Solari and Mare, 2012; Maidment et al., 2014),

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housing tenure status (Searle et al., 2009; Mason et al., 2013; Smith et al., 2017), affordability (Bentley et al., 2011; Mason et al., 2013; Bentley et al., 2016; Baker et al., 2020), residential stability or mobility (Stokols et al., 1983; Kearns et al., 1992; Burgard et al., 2012; Kleit et al., 2015), and the comprehensiveness of housing welfare (Bentley et al., 2016).

HOUSING POLICIES AND WELLBEING IN PRACTICE Despite numerous studies on the effects of housing on wellbeing and their policy implications, the use of these findings in housing policies remains limited. Although it is widely acknowledged that the objective of housing policy is to increase aggregated wellbeing (Nordvik and Sørvoll, 2014), the relationship between the two phenomena is rarely directly stated in housing policy documents. One of the few countries where a wellbeing concept has clearly emerged in public policies is in the UK. However, there is no consensus on its definition (La Placa et al., 2013), and often it is associated with health (Atkinson and Joyce, 2011). Many researchers argue that urban planners and designers should consider the perceptions of residents in order to fully address housing needs (Amérigo and Aragonés, 1990) and to avoid a potential mismatch between their vision and that of residents (Francescato et al., 1974; Lu, 1999; Górczyńska, 2016). Unaddressed needs and preferences with respect to housing characteristics might lead to housing vacancy (Górczyńska, 2016) or to oversupply of affordable housing (Mohamad et al., 2020). Apart from difficulties in defining wellbeing by housing policy stakeholders, another issue is the limited range of methods applied to measure the effects of housing policies on people’s wellbeing. Typically, cost–benefit analysis is used to assess the economic outcomes of housing policy, or shadow cost estimation that allows determining the required change in a household’s income to offset the negative effects of living conditions on wellbeing (Churchill et al., 2020). Rowley and Ong (2012) argue that measurements to assess the ‘non-shelter effects’ of social and housing policies on peoples’ wellbeing remain poor. They pinpoint two commonly applied measurements. The first relates to affordability indicators that represent housing cost as a percentage of a household’s disposable income. As a rule of thumb, housing expenditures that exceed 30‒40 per cent classify residents as living in unaffordable dwellings. The second measurement is based on monitoring subsidized housing construction or housing allowances paid. In this way, housing policies set quantitative objectives (that is, number of subsidized units constructed, surface area and crowding) and rarely consider social aspects (that is, related to the achievement of societal goals). This chapter adds to the knowledge about the relationship between housing and wellbeing by comparing empirical evidence with policy and practice.

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In the theoretical section, we outlined how wellbeing is conceptualized in housing studies and what are its key determinants. In the following section, we pay attention to how different stakeholders in charge of housing policy, planning and delivery define wellbeing and its housing-related determinants. The identification of similarities and contradictions highlights the mismatches between policy discourse and practice and adds to the debate on the ‘policy-outcome’ gap in housing policy implementation (Wetzstein, 2017). These understandings can be used to formulate recommendations for different stages of a public policy-making process: from setting the agenda for housing policy and planning, through defining an approach to address housing needs, to decision-making on specific interventions (for example, about the localization of affordable housing and its features such as type, size, layout, price, and so on). This in turn shall improve the effects of housing on wellbeing outcomes for lower and middle- income households.

METHODS: A STUDY OF WELLBEING IN HOUSING POLICY IN LUXEMBOURG To understand how the relationship between housing policy and wellbeing is practiced, we take a case study of Luxembourg. We argue that a case study approach is relevant for cross-national comparisons of housing-related wellbeing because the importance of this life aspect for wellbeing is shared by different nations (Cantril, 1965). However, we are aware of context-related limitations of our study. Cultural differences and national factors, such as income inequality, social welfare, individualism, democracy and freedom, social capital and physical health (Knight and Rosa, 2011), as well as national policies (Bentley et al., 2016) impact the conceptualization of wellbeing and its determinants across countries. Our research involves three analyses. First, we scrutinized the conceptualization of wellbeing and its relationship with housing in the modified Act on l’Aide au Logement (Act on Housing Subsidies) from 1979 which is a key legal document shaping housing policy in Luxembourg. Second, we analyzed the results of nine semi-structured individual interviews carried out in January and February 2020. The interviews were carried out in the offices of the interviewees located in three municipalities: Luxembourg city, Esch-sur-Alzette and Differdange. They were recorded and transcribed. In this chapter, we provide quotes, translated into English, from the interviews, which were conducted in French. We interviewed the stakeholders involved in housing policy (Councilor in the Ministry of Housing), housing delivery and management (one public developer, two municipalities, two NGOs, two Social Rental Agencies) and one housing professional (urban planner). We used open questions in order to discuss the views on affordable housing, its features, target population and

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housing demand. Without suggesting any housing features that are boosting wellbeing, our goal was to identify what kind of thinking was driving housing policy and its implementation. After having conducted the interviews, we used a review of residential attributes that are crucial for wellbeing (Table 12.1) and prepared a one-question survey. We contacted again the stakeholders and asked them to assess each residential attribute from one (least important) to five (the most important).

RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN WELLBEING AND HOUSING IN LEGAL DOCUMENTS IN LUXEMBOURG Housing policy in Luxembourg is framed by the Act on housing subsidies voted in on 25 February 1979 (coordinated text of 31 December 2019). The detailed standards of the execution of the law are presented in several regulations, labelled ‘grand-ducal regulations’ because the Luxembourgish Constitution entrusts the Grand Duke of Luxembourg this mission. Since 1979, the Act has undergone several modifications, including the introduction of new instruments, such as rent subsidies for tenants in the private market, certificates for sustainable housing, and social rental management schemes. Apart from the Act of 1979, several legal documents frame the housing sector in Luxembourg. The Act on lease for rental apartments from 21 September 2006 defines owners’ and tenants’ rights and obligations. It sets a maximum rent level equal to 5 per cent of the capital invested in housing. The Act labelled ‘Housing Pact 1.0’ from 22 October 2008 offers new solutions to increase subsidized housing stock, specifically through collaboration between the State and municipalities. It also clarifies the preemption right with respect to land and housing for public developers and strengthens the role of long-term lease of land. The Act of 23 December 2016 defined zero- and low-interest loans for sustainable renovation of housing improving energy efficiency. The Act of 23 December 2019 defined safety and healthy criteria for rented accommodations. Finally, the Act of 25 March 2020 created a special housing development fund to foster affordable housing production through subsidies granted for housing construction, constitution of land reserve by the State, and improvement of housing conditions according to the sustainable development goals. In the current form, the modified Act of 1979 focuses on the access to housing and to homeownership, construction of subsidized housing (for rent or sale) and housing renovation. The target population for subsidized housing covers the poor, large families with dependent children, the elderly and the disabled. To improve the access to housing, the modified Act from 1979 specifies two measures: individual allocations granted to homebuyers and tenants and subsidies granted to developers. Since 1979, individual allocations are granted

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to homebuyers that address income and household composition criteria. They include capital and interest subsidies to support purchase, construction or improvement of a dwelling. In 2018, 1,311 households benefited from capital subsidy and 9,975 from interest subsidy (Housing Observatory, 2020b). Since 2015, tenants on the private market may receive a rent subsidy if they address income and housing cost-to-income criteria. Around 5,400 households (15 per cent of eligible) benefitted from it in 2019 (Léonard, 2020). The Minister of Housing explains this low number by the fact that a scheme is relatively new and still not well-known. The individual allocations are widely used tools reducing households’ housing expenditures and improving affordability. However, their amounts are low and little is known about their direct effect on wellbeing. The modified Act of 1979 specifies four main actors benefiting from subsidies for housing development: two public developers (National Society for Housing at Moderate Price (SNHBM) and Housing Fund), municipalities, non-profit organizations (incl. the Church and foundations), and private developers. In contrary to other countries, residential development and ensuring the access to housing for deprived populations is not among mandatory municipal missions in Luxembourg. Municipalities are perceived as important but so far inefficient local actors in affordable housing delivery and management due to lacking expertise, staff and tools to fulfil this mission. The adoption of ‘Housing Pact 1.0’ is aimed at assisting, mobilizing and financially supporting municipalities in a greater contribution to affordable housing development. Offering affordable accommodation to people already living or working in a given municipality has positive effects on individual wellbeing. It secures residential stability and prevents long commutes to work. Subsidized housing in Luxembourg covers rentals and housing for sale (Housing Observatory, 2020b). Affordable rentals have three forms: subsidized social rentals built and administrated by public actors (developer, municipality) or an NGO, student accommodation built usually by private developers, and a social rental scheme, through which privately owned housing is rented out at below market prices. With respect to subsidized social rentals, the State finances up to 70 per cent of the construction costs. Eligible households cannot own, use or have a right to occupy other dwellings but there is no income criterion. Rents are set and regularly updated based on a household’s income and on average they do not exceed 30 per cent of household’s disposable income (Housing Observatory, 2020b). In order to address the needs of the low-income population at risk from social exclusion, a social rental scheme was introduced in 2009. The Social Rental Agency and some NGOs that signed agreements with the Ministry of Housing, look for private owners willing to rent out their property for a fixed-term at lower rents. In return, they receive stable rent payments, maintenance of the dwelling and tax reliefs. In addition, the Social

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Rental Agency assists the tenants in searching for a job and dealing with other social or health problems. Affordable rentals have mixed effects on wellbeing. Very low rents in social housing allow tenants to cover their non-shelter needs, which may positively affect wellbeing. Fixed-term rental contracts do not ensure residential stability, which have detrimental outcomes for wellbeing. Affordable homeownership in Luxembourg has two forms. Public actors build affordable housing with a long-term lease of land. The State subsidizes up to 50 per cent for the study and infrastructure cost. The surface of dwellings is limited to 120 m2 for apartments and to 140 m2 for single-family houses and the price is 30‒40 per cent below the market price. The dwellings cannot be sublet or resold over a 10-year period. Once a resale is possible, the public developers have a preemption right. The initial price is modified according to the construction cost index and any capital losses incurred during the occupation. The second form of affordable homeownership includes dwellings constructed by private developers and offered to the households eligible for capital subsidies. They are sold with part of the land at below the market price by 20 per cent. The dwellings cannot be sublet or resold over a 10-year period; however, private developers are not granted preemption rights in case of resale. Affordable homeownership has mixed effects on wellbeing. Good quality of these dwellings and affordable prices improve living conditions which might have positive outcomes on wellbeing. However, several factors may decrease it. First, the buyers of affordable housing are by definition less affluent and probably more vulnerable than other homebuyers to employment change or revenue decreases threatening their financial situation. However, they are not protected by the State in case they face difficulties in paying back their loan. The restrictions linked to the resale and unknown future when a long-term land lease ends might be also detrimental to residential stability and feelings of security. Finally, affordable housing is rarely offered in the most attractive areas (in terms of proximity to workplaces and amenities) because of scarcity of publicly owned land. Hence, the beneficiaries of this offer are sometimes forced to make trade-offs between a lower price and a more distant location of a dwelling which might decrease their wellbeing. With respect to the relationship between housing and wellbeing stated in the modified Act from 1979, there is a lot of ambiguity. The link between the two matters is formulated in the following way: The goal of this Act is to promote: […] social mix and the quality of housing so that it meets the objectives of sustainable development and those of quality of life. (Act 1979, coordinated text December 31, 2019, Art. 1)

However, the document does not outline the criteria according to which the quality of housing and the quality of life are conceptualized. Sustainable

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housing is defined in relation to energy efficiency (Chapter 2sexies, modified Law 1979), but not linked to the quality of housing. Considering a strong support for homeowners, the homeownership is implicitly seen as crucial for the achievement of life quality objectives. The mechanisms of social mix, mentioned in relation to the quality of life might take two forms. The first one is tenure mix. The modified Act 1979 imposed at least 10 per cent of social rentals in new subsidized residential projects. Second, the possibility is to mix homeowners. At least 60 per cent of affordable housing in each residential project shall be sold to lower-income households eligible for individual capital subsidy. The modified Act 1979 leaves a lot of room for the interpretation of wellbeing. It does not clarify whether wellbeing is conceptualized as objective, a subjective construct or a combination of both. This ambiguity makes it difficult to monitor and to assess the achievement of housing policy objectives and their wellbeing outcomes. Based on the content analysis of the activity reports of the Ministry of Housing, it appears that the effects of housing on wellbeing are measured only in objective terms and using mainly economic indicators (for example, number of subsidies paid and their amount, evolution of house prices and rents, and housing affordability). No subjective measures, like residential satisfaction, have been introduced so far. After parliamentary elections in October 2018, the new governmental coalition agreement 2018‒2023 formulated a goal to increase the offer of social and affordable housing. To this end, several interventions have been planned: mobilization of construction land for affordable housing, the new Housing Pact 2.0 and the introduction of a local housing action programme, improvement of urban quality, quality of life and cohesion in neighbourhoods, construction quality and energy efficiency, fighting against land speculation, improved transparency of rental market prices and limited sale of public social housing. Moreover, the Ministry of Housing under the supervision of the new Minister of Housing from déi gréng (the Greens Party) has been working on the new Act on housing subsidies to be voted on in the coming months. The orientation of the new Minister towards housing for the poorest population, gives hope for a more dynamic development of affordable rentals. A wider affordable housing offer would improve living conditions and therefore wellbeing of lower income households. Surprisingly, despite an explicitly stated will to increase affordable housing stock, the Ministry of Housing does not provide precise data about subsidized housing. This might be linked to the fact that this Ministry, created in 1989, is relatively new as an independent institution and there is still much organizational work to do. Another striking issue is that there is more information about subsidized dwellings and their occupants in the activity reports published over a decade ago than recently. As a result, Luxembourg seems to be far behind

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other countries that recognized the need to use a wide range of social indicators and to include subjective wellbeing in their political agendas 20 years ago. Some initial attempts to break this information gap have been made by the two biggest cities (Luxembourg and Esch-sur-Alzette) which set up Social Monitoring Observatories in 2020.

PUTTING HOUSING POLICY INTO PRACTICE: THE NARRATIVES OF HOUSING STAKEHOLDERS The aim of our interviews was to explore how and to what extent the concept of wellbeing is present in housing policy and its implementation. We discussed with the housing-related stakeholders their views on: (1) affordable housing definition, (2) the features of affordable housing they consider as key for boosting wellbeing, and (3) what are their opinions about the ways to mitigate inequalities in the access to housing. The practical definition of affordable housing and its target population used by housing policy, planning and construction stakeholders differs from what the modified Act 1979 stipulates. The Councilor in the Ministry of Housing defined affordable housing as cheaper than market price and offered to lowand middle-income households without giving any other sociodemographic characteristics of priority beneficiaries. Even though other interviewees shared this opinion, their practice shows a clear division between public social rentals allocated to low-income populations, and subsidized housing for sale to middle-income households: The social case, sorry for the expression, cannot buy […]. How do you think that the people can obtain a loan? Nowadays we have the problem that the lowest incomes do not get loans. […] These people should pay with their own resources and usually they don’t have own resources and cannot take a loan for 200,000‒300,000 €. For these people we should increase the rental offer. […] It is impossible to find a way for the lowest income to become homeowners. If we look at the data about the people who buy apartments today, we have reached the limit of those who can finance the purchase. We have reached the groups that we can seriously reach. (Public developer, interviewed on 6 January 2020)

In addition, there exists a diversification of the target population in social rentals offered by public developers and by the Social Rental Agency. In public social housing, the rents are typically very low and represent around one sixth of a rent on the private market. One interviewee in charge of municipal

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housing pointed out that such a low rent is an incentive to live in social accommodation for a long time. In paying such a low rent, people can buy stuff that they don’t need! [...] People that receive all the State benefits, with a 300 € rent... Well, I would not be motivated to look for something else, I stay at home with the minimum social income and I am fine. (Municipal Officer in charge of housing, interviewed on 22 January 2020)

In the case of social rentals offered by the Social Rental Agency, the rent is negotiated with a private owner and usually represents between two thirds and a half of a rent practiced on the private market. Because the Social Rental Agency cannot subsidize the rents, it is required that a household has sufficient income (at least three times the monthly rent) to cover this expense. It means that this type of social rental is allocated to those who can afford it. This questions the feasibility of putting in place a social mix and using subsidized housing to combat social inequalities. In terms of the links between housing and wellbeing, most interviewees claimed that offering housing that is affordable, in good sanitary condition, adapted to the household composition, is important to enhance wellbeing. Our interviews show that the concept of affordability remains vague. Most interviewees perceived affordability as price or rent that is lower compared to the private market and adapted to a household’s income. They agreed that a household should not spend more than one third of a disposable income on housing. Apart from housing cost-to-income indicator, one NGO applied a concept of a minimum budget that a household requires to cover non-shelter needs. Good sanitary conditions were defined as thermal comfort and good housing insulation. The interviewees highlighted that these features were crucial to reduce heating costs and improve affordability. The concept of a dwelling adapted to a household’s composition appeared controversial. The grand-ducal regulation from 1998 stipulates that children aged 12 or more should have individual bedrooms. The Councilor in the Ministry of Housing perceived it as a children’s right. The stakeholders putting it in practice had mixed opinions. One of the Municipal Officers stated that due to this regulation the allocation of a social housing was sometimes not possible, ‘while it would be totally appropriate to accommodate two children in the same room’. Other Municipal Officer argued that certain households used this regulation at their good advantage to get a social housing. It happens that beneficiaries use that regulation to require a bigger apartment, even though they previously said that they didn’t mind having two kids in the same room, just to get a social dwelling. (Municipal Officer in charge of housing, interviewed on 22 January 2020)

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Location and access to amenities were other factors highlighted by several interviewees but their opinions were mixed. The Councilor in the Ministry of Housing claimed that a central location was an important element since car ownership costs could represent up to 500€ per month. An interviewee from the NGO dealing with development and social services argued that due to housing price constraints we cannot be too demanding in terms of the access to services, schools, public facilities, or transportation. The representative from the Social Rental Agency mentioned management-related difficulties in case of rentals in remote areas. Our brief survey carried out with the interviewees provided additional information about their views on the importance of residential attributes for people’s wellbeing (Table 12.2). These findings confirm that housing cost is recognized by stakeholders as a main factor of social inequalities that should be mediated by affordable housing. Other residential features identified in the literature as important for wellbeing, such as living in proximity to the workplace, urban amenities, services and infrastructure, green spaces, or environmental quality did not receive much attention. However, we observed some differences in the ratings between the stakeholders. The representatives from the Social Rental Agency and the NGOs found location and neighbourhood quality more important than public developers and municipal officers. This shows a discrepancy between what they think as important (findings from the survey) and what they practice (opinions revealed during the interviews). It might mean that due to severe market conditions (high house prices, constrained access to constructible land) and insufficient public support, they are not able to implement what they consider as important for peoples’ wellbeing. Interestingly, only one of the interviewees saw broader outcomes of supporting the access to housing for wellbeing that is neither defined in legal documents, nor widely practiced. The beneficiaries have an initial contract of three years that can be extended depending on the situation of the people […]. The idea is that people become independent after a while. We provide housing at affordable cost and social integration projects. In return, they have to save every month and have a professional goal […]. This is not like getting public social housing for your entire life. We do social inclusion through housing. Housing is the springboard to achieve social inclusion and the goal is always the autonomy of the beneficiary after two, three, four, five years when he will manage to find an accommodation on the private market. (Representative of Social Rental Agency, interviewed on 13 January 2020)

This view might be linked to the evolution of neoliberal Western housing policies, marked by declining public expenditures on housing, privatization of public rentals and a shift from subsidies for dwellings towards subsidies for people. These trends affect wellbeing of tenants due to higher rental effort,

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Table 12.2 Category

The views of housing-related stakeholders on importance of residential attributes in affordable housing Average

Characteristics

score* Dwelling

36

characteristics

Average score*

Price or rent adapted to household’s income

49

Dwelling surface adapted to the size of a household

46

Minimize the amount of charges

44

Level of maintenance of the building

41

Type of accommodation: a unit

40

Occupancy status: rented

40

Number of bedrooms adapted to a household size

40

Rental contract for an indefinite period

35

Good energy efficiency of the building

34

Layout of dwelling

33

Insulation of dwelling

31

Type of accommodation: a detached house

30

General comfort (standard, quality of materials and

30

equipment of the accommodation) Occupancy status: owned

22

Beneficiary has a right to sell, rent out or transfer the

18

dwelling as an inheritance Social, physical and environmental characteristics of neighbourhood

28

Safety in the neighbourhood

36

Good quality of schools

33

Tranquility, good atmosphere in the neighbourhood

29

Good quality of the built environment in the

29

neighbourhood Good quality of public facilities

29

Low noise level

27

Good quality of green spaces

26

Good air quality

26

Local shops adapted to the income and expectations of

24

beneficiaries Good reputation of the district/municipality of residence

21

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Category

Average

Characteristics

score* Location

27

Average score*

Proximity to public transport

44

Proximity to schools

36

Proximity to the workplace

34

Location in urban area

30

Proximity to grocery

26

Proximity to green spaces

25

Proximity to family, friends

24

Near city centre/ neighbourhood centre

24

Location in rural area

23

Proximity to the highway

21

Proximity to leisure areas

20

Location in an area where real estate prices are very

17

high

Note * We used a scale from one (least important) to five (the most important) to assess each attribute.

poorer quality of services and progressive deterioration of housing (Aalbers, 2017). The third part of the interviews was dedicated to the ways to mitigate inequalities in the access to housing. Some interviewees considered social mix as a useful tool. According to the Councilor in the Ministry of Housing, ‘new projects should be diversified, i.e. in terms of price, dwelling size, type (single family houses and apartments), social/private housing or modality of access (purchase or rental)’. The representative of the public developer and the housing professional were against concentration of subsidized housing and argued that new socially mixed residential projects should mitigate social risks in the neighbourhoods, especially socio-spatial segregation. Currently planned residential projects in the City of Luxembourg includes one third of private housing, one third subsidized units for sale and one third of social rental; so that’s mixed, we will find the very rich, the very poor and those who were eligible [for subsidized housing]. (Housing professional from national platform for urban policy and planning interviewed on 21 January 2020)

To mitigate inequalities in the access to housing and therefore to enhance wellbeing, the councillor in the Ministry of Housing pointed out three mid-term

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and long-term goals. First, the State will continue to subsidize affordable housing construction. If we have a growth of 6,000 housing per year and 10 or 15 per cent of them are affordable then, in 10‒15 years we will have 5 per cent affordable housing in Luxembourg. These are the realistic terms if we make a lot of effort it could be achievable. But in less than 10 years it’s impossible. (Councillor in the Ministry of Housing, interviewed on 14 January 2020)

Considering shortages of workforce in the construction sector in Luxembourg (mentioned by a public developer), an increased construction of affordable housing might be difficult, even though the new residential project would be subsidized by the State. Second, as access to land is a key barrier to the construction of public affordable housing, the Ministry of Housing intends to improve the inclusionary policy in the Housing Pact 2.0. 2021‒2032. Following new regulations, the private developers will transfer the part of the land where affordable housing has to be developed, to the municipalities or to the State. In this way, the public sector will essentially increase the supply of affordable housing and promote social mix in new residential projects. Moreover, the quota of affordable housing (for rent or sale) will be increased as a function of project size. In the projects with more than 25 dwellings, 30 per cent of them shall be reserved for affordable housing. Inclusionary policies are widely practiced in the UK, France, Canada or the US. However, the empirical evidence shows that they might contribute to an increase of house prices and decrease affordability (Ihlanfeldt, 2007). Hence, their effects on wellbeing might be mixed. Third, the Ministry of Housing will promote a further shift in housing tenure in new public residential projects. Regarding public developers, there has been a change over the past five years. Five years ago, in public residential projects, 70 per cent of units were sold and 30 per cent were leased. Nowadays, it is the opposite and as far as the municipalities agree, we would even surpass 70 per cent, so it is really the aim of the government to develop public rental housing stock. (Councillor in the Ministry of Housing, interviewed on 14 January 2020)

All interviewees recognized the urgency to construct more affordable rentals. In addition, a representative of the Social Rental Agency argued that offering affordable housing for sale has not been an efficient solution because once sold, the units were lost from the public housing stock and were no longer available to other needy families. The discourse of all interviewees took a similar direction: Luxembourg shall shift from an asset-based welfare towards a housing welfare model by offering more social and affordable rentals to the poor.

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CONCLUSIONS The aim of this chapter was to explain how different stakeholders in charge of housing policy, planning and delivery conceptualize wellbeing and its housing-related determinants and how they address housing inequalities to enhance wellbeing. From our interviews investigating how housing policies are defined, interpreted and practiced across the housing sector, we found that legal documents link wellbeing with housing quality and social mix but without explaining these concepts. In practice, the stakeholders highlight three housing features that are important to enhance wellbeing: low housing costs (price or rent), good sanitary conditions, and dwelling’s surface adapted to household composition. Other residential features identified in the literature on housing and wellbeing as important determining factors for wellbeing were rarely mentioned. A focus on few residential characteristics as important for people’s wellbeing may contribute to widening the gap between people’s housing needs, aspirations, and subsidized affordable housing features. This might have negative consequences on residential satisfaction and mental health. Specifically worrying is the insufficient offer of affordable housing. As a result, more and more residents are forced to search for affordable accommodation across the border, in France, Belgium and Germany (Carpentier, 2010). Daily social mobility and practice subordinated to long commuting may additionally lower their wellbeing. Our interviews show the need for a greater collaboration between stakeholders in charge of housing policy, construction and management. The synergy across different hierarchical levels, public and non-governmental actors would allow to better diagnose housing needs, to define effective and socially just housing interventions, as well as to enhance wellbeing and mitigate social inequalities. This could be supported by more participatory methods to involve residents living in unaffordable housing in defining policy objectives, testing existing and new solutions to support access to housing. By examining housing policy in Luxembourg, we explored the extent to which a mixed model of an asset-based welfare and housing welfare that exists in Luxembourg is relevant to enhance wellbeing. The rationale for this approach is that by fulfiling basic, psychological and social needs as well as by offering opportunities, the access to decent, affordable and stable housing boosts objective and subjective wellbeing. Our study shows that there is a gradual shift in public discourse in Luxembourg from support to homeowners towards more extensive support for social and affordable rentals. It does not mean that the support for homebuyers practiced over the past 40 years will be cut. In practice, a mixed model of asset-based and housing welfare has been developing. Both individual allocations for homebuyers and tenants as well as subsidies

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for housing for rent and sale are in place. The focus on improving the access to decent and affordable housing for the poor should have positive effects on their wellbeing. However, new schemes are also required for middle-income households whose chances of getting social housing are low and whose incomes are insufficient to get a mortgage. This group is pinpointed as a second ‘needy’ category of households in Luxembourg (Housing Observatory, 2020b). Future research on housing and wellbeing could usefully focus on longitudinal data to explore how wellbeing of beneficiaries of affordable housing has changed once they were allocated a dwelling. This would also help to gauge housing policy outcomes on wellbeing. Finally, another avenue for future research is to explore the effects of housing-related empowerment on wellbeing. Recently we observed two new trends. Top-down interventions, such as granting rights to tenants (Reeves, 2014) contribute to greater involvement of tenants in property management. Bottom-up initiatives such as cohousing (Tummers, 2016), or self-organization in housing (Crabtree, 2016) reflect the willingness for a more interactive lifestyle and an attempt to self-create affordable housing (Chatterton, 2013). While the empirical studies confirmed that enhanced employee empowerment had beneficial effects on individual wellbeing (Biron and Bamberger, 2010), still little is known about the impacts of housing-related empowerment on residential satisfaction and wellbeing.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This research is a part of a research project on ‘The Effects of Affordable Housing on Subjective Well-being’ (A-HOUSE) supported by the Luxembourg National Research Fund, Project no 12700468.

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13. Woodlands and wellbeing: evaluating the ‘Actif Woods Wales’ programme Heli Gittins, Sophie Wynne-Jones and Val Morrison INTRODUCTION The wellbeing benefits of enhanced engagement with the natural environment have received increasing attention in recent years, supported by an extensive body of research connecting to questions of physical and mental health (Hartig et al., 2014; and see Biedenweg and Trimbach, Chapter 16 this volume). Public health concerns connected to sedentary lifestyles such as obesity and heart disease are highlighted as key issues that increased time spent in nature can usefully address but, equally, potential to enhance mental health and performance are noted (Department of Health, 2014). This growing scientific consensus is now acknowledged by the UK Government and informs the approach of their 25 Year Environment Plan (DEFRA, 2018) to better connect people with the environment as a means to improve health and wellbeing. Simultaneously, advancing urbanisation has given rise to a disconnect from nature, meaning that these preventative, recuperative and health enhancing benefits are increasingly out of reach. In nations like the UK, the environment remains a largely untapped resource in this regard (Maller et al., 2006). Hence, there is a need to mobilise innovative ways of addressing rising health and wellbeing issues and associated costs that could be avoided or moderated by the environment. In order to promote greater connection with nature, there has been a marked increase in advocacy and formalised interventions to enhance opportunities to do so (Bragg and Atkins, 2016). This is often in tandem with a growing Social Prescribing movement, aimed at facilitating effective partnerships between health and environmental statutory, voluntary or community projects. The intention is to prescribe non-medical based interventions and social activities aimed at addressing social, emotional and practical needs such as social isolation and thereby indirectly improving health and wellbeing (Bickerdike et al., 2017). These initiatives have often sought to extend the apparent benefits of 207

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nature experience to a wider, often marginalised demographic and to harness the potential of local environmental resources for improving wellbeing. Despite marked evidence supporting the connection between nature and wellbeing, less is known about how this translates in the messy real-world context of such ‘nature-based interventions’. In this chapter, we discuss the experience of evaluating one such intervention in situ, ‘Actif Woods Wales’ (AWW), a woodland activity programme for adults. Here we describe emergent issues in relation to the process of evaluating the initiative, gaining the user perspective, and understanding its challenges and successes. To do this, we have taken an interdisciplinary approach, combining methodological and theoretical insights from the fields of health psychology and social geography. This provides the necessary combination of tools and frameworks with which to understand and appropriately evidence any wellbeing changes experienced through the programme and the role that the social and natural environment plays therein. The benefits of these combined approaches to measuring wellbeing are considered prior to a discussion of methods and findings in relation to gaps identified in the sector. Whilst recognising it as a concept closely aligned with both physical and mental health, and acknowledging the many different definitions and measures (Linton et al., 2016), personal wellbeing is defined here as a subjective assessment of how people feel about their own lives. A personal wellbeing approach reflects a shift from historical perceptions of health as merely being free from illness towards a more holistic approach where human beings thrive or flourish. Traditionally, in a medicalised model of health, where the focus has been on disease detection and treatment, there was little or no emphasis on wellbeing at all. This quote from surgeon Atul Gawande (2014, p. 259) reflects this shift to a remit that is broader than that of keeping people alive and physically healthy, ‘We’ve been wrong about what our job is in medicine. We think our job is to ensure health and survival. But really it is larger than that. It is to enable wellbeing. And wellbeing is about the reasons we want to be alive.’

NATURE AND WELLBEING RESEARCH OVERVIEW In common with wider research into human wellbeing as a multifaceted concept, understanding the benefits of engagement with nature involves the assessment of a range of different aspects. This can encompass measures of both physical and mental health using objective physiological measures (for example, blood pressure or weight) and/or self-reported, subjective measures (for example, self-esteem, confidence or emotional state). In addition, researchers have sought to unpick different conceptualisations of human–nature relatedness, including questions of identity/identification and affective response. Whilst research in this field is well established, there are

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notable gaps and uncertainties, and as outlined in this brief review, these have informed the approach taken in our study. The terms nature, the natural environment, or greenspace tend to be used quite interchangeably, and habitat type is not often distinguished. Here, the nomenclature favoured by particular studies are echoed where appropriate, and the term nature is used as an umbrella description. Mounting evidence has demonstrated both mental and physical health benefits of simply having geographical or physical proximity to nature (Thompson-Coon et al., 2011; Hartig et al., 2014; Gascon et al., 2015; Bowler et al., 2010). Population level studies have reported positive and linear associations between access to nature and mental health, for example, lower levels of mental distress and higher wellbeing (White et al., 2013; Pope et al., 2015) and increased frequency of access and lower levels of stress (Grahn and Stigsdotter, 2003). These kind of studies evidence similar positive associations for nature and physical health. For example, a relationship between the loss of 100 million trees due to the Ash-borer Disease and increased human mortality (Donovan et al., 2013); better health reported amongst people with more greenspace in their living environment (De Vries et al., 2003); and an association between self-reported health and environmental indicators (for example, density of greenspace, bird species richness) combining land use and UK census data (Wheeler et al., 2015). The concept of what an adequate ‘dose’ of nature might be has also been addressed, for example, a large scale study (n=19,806) concluded that two hours of contact with nature a week (maintained) could be a crucial threshold for promoting health and wellbeing (White et al., 2019). Population scale studies such as these (see also Gascon et al., 2015; Beyer et al., 2014) are extremely useful in that they demonstrate clear interrelationships that validate the value of nature to public health and wellbeing. Although not aimed at identifying causation, possible mechanisms suggested have included reduced air pollution exposure, temperature moderation, stress reduction and opportunities for physical activity (Wheeler et al., 2015). It is also likely that factors such as income, health and wellbeing influence people’s mobility and their available and perceived choices about the places they live. Hypothesised explanations of mental health benefits in particular include reduced exposure to/distraction from the demands of typical life or work environments, or by helping people to restore their adaptive resources (Hartig et al., 2014). However, at this scale, they can only ever infer what the explanations/underlying processes of change might be. An important aspect of their utility is in revealing skews or subgroup differences; for example studies have repeatedly highlighted that increased levels of greenspace access may have a disproportionate benefit for lower income communities (Wheeler et al., 2015; De Vries et al., 2003). In fact, the influence of inequality (generally measured by income

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levels) on health has been found to reduce with higher levels of exposure to the natural environment (Mitchell and Popham, 2008), suggesting potential for access to the natural environment to moderate socio-economic health inequalities. However, in England at least, whilst at a population level there is an upward trend in regular visits to nature, participation is persistently lowest amongst residents of lower income areas and Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic (BAME) groups (Natural England, 2018). In addition to identifying what associations are present, extensive research has also explored the causal mechanisms of how exposure to nature benefits our health and wellbeing, particularly in urban areas. A key element is that nature provides a space for physical activity. This is an important factor in developed nations, such as the UK given that approximately a third of the men and half of the women in the UK are not sufficiently active for good health (Morrison and Bennett, 2016). As a venue, the natural environment has considerable advantages over indoor spaces, often free of charge and without the need for specialist equipment. It has been estimated that in a snapshot week, natural environments supported recreational physical activity for approximately 8.23 million people and provide approximately £2.2bn of benefits to the health of adults in England every year (White et al., 2016). Positive effects on mental wellbeing, in particular mood (Bowler et al., 2010) and greater feelings of revitalisation, positive engagement and energy (Thompson-Coon et al., 2011) have been found compared to exercise indoors. It is also thought to be a contributing factor to increased adherence to exercise programmes outdoors as compared to indoors, whereby the natural environment encourages participation (Thompson-Coon et al., 2011; Hillsdon and Thorogood, 1996). The social element has also been shown to be important, with greenspace providing a place outside our individual homes for connection, thus having potential to reduce isolation and loneliness. Neighbourhood social ties have been found to be supported by the presence of greenspace, as opposed to more ‘barren, deserted no-man’s lands’ with, for example, trees and grass in a Chicago housing project providing a common space promoting positive social interaction (Kuo et al., 1998, p. 823). There are well-established theories of the psychological benefits of nature, like how exposure can benefit recovery from short-term stress (Ulrich et al., 1991) or restore attention (Kaplan and Kaplan, 1989). Evidence even suggests that simply viewing nature has mental health benefits (Moore, 1981; West, 1985). Experimental evidence, gathered typically from healthy populations, has shown significant improvements in mental performance (Berman et al., 2008) and decreased self-reported ruminative thoughts (Bratman et al., 2015) from walking in nature compared to urban settings, due to the restoration of attentional capacity. This body of work is seminal in being able to isolate the nature component and provide important insights about causality.

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Nature and Wellbeing Research Gaps Despite this extensive body of literature, there are notable gaps. Much early research took place in controlled environments, with pre- and post- assessment of highly managed and short interventions. Most studies have been based on one-off visits or interventions, rather than measuring the cumulative effect of repeated visits. Consequently, a commonly occurring critique of the field is the paucity of longitudinal and long-term research meaning that the sustainability of effects over time, in terms of maintaining the behaviour change necessary for increased wellbeing, is unknown (Hartig et al., 2014; Thompson-Coon et al., 2011; Bowler et al., 2010; Kamioka et al., 2012). Furthermore, research has tended to focus on healthy populations, often students, rather than comparing more diverse sectors of the population. Whilst such studies provide robust data, allowing reliable inferences about outcomes to be made, their limitations highlight a need to undertake further research in context, with populations who stand to gain the most. Large, comparative, and well-controlled studies, particularly of a longitudinal nature, are expensive and hence do not happen very often, yet the need for such research is widely recognised (Hartig et al., 2014; Thompson-Coon et al., 2011; Bowler et al., 2010; Kamioka et al., 2012). Whilst we have good data on likely mechanisms of effect such as reduced stress, attention restoration and physical health improvements, the social processes enacted during outdoor activity are rarely explicitly measured, yet they are often cited as important. There is therefore a need to consider how social dynamics work within a nature-based context to better understand the current evidence base (Meyer and Buerger-Arndt, 2014). Furthermore, it has been suggested that too much research focusses on people who already use nature regularly, and that until we address potential barriers to non-users, we are merely ‘tinkering around the edge’ rather than addressing fundamental challenges (Hitchings, 2013, p. 99).

NATURE BASED INTERVENTIONS FOR HEALTH AND WELLBEING In response to the growing evidence base outlined above, health and environment sectors, who have tended to operate in somewhat separate silos, have sought to find ways to capitalise on the aforementioned benefits. Conservation organisations have compiled reports on the health benefits of being in nature (Bragg and Atkins, 2016) and health organisations have sought to champion increased access to and engagement with the natural environment (Mind, 2013, 2015). A range of projects and campaigns across the UK, by organisations such as the Woodland Trust, the Forestry Commission, the National Trust and RSPB are responding with ‘Nature Based Interventions (NBIs)’.

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That is, structured or led activities in nature where there is a direct aim to use nature to improve health and wellbeing. Such schemes may also play a vital role in widening access to the natural environment, encouraging and enabling population groups who use greenspace less to engage, and for whom it is increasingly apparent that provision needs to go beyond providing physically accessible sites. A challenge for the field in practice is working across two very different sectors. Collaborations between environment and health have not been normal practice and making the transition to offering health and wellbeing activities is not always an easy one for conservation organisations. Morris et al. (2011, p. 375) highlight a ‘need for carefully designed interventions that may lie outside the conventional remit of woodland management’, acknowledging the fact that countryside site managers are not trained or experienced in working with groups with support needs. There is an obvious role here for Nature Based Interventions (NBIs) to help bridge this gap between sectors, maximising the wellbeing benefits of the natural environment. This includes projects run within the voluntary and community sector, but is increasingly linked to formalised health care provision through social prescribing networks whereby GPs and frontline Health Care Partnerships are enabled to make links with other services appropriate to the achievement of health and wellbeing goals (Bickerdike et al., 2017). Equally, such approaches have sought to make innovative connections between services within the ‘environmental’ sector (including public sector, community and voluntary actors) and those traditionally positioned within health. There is a growing evidence base for NBIs and promising results in relation to wellbeing have been found from a range of studies (Wilson, 2009; Shanahan et al., 2019; Natural Health Service, 2016; Bragg and Atkins, 2016). However, evaluations of benefits have often been in-house, which limits the independence of findings and although not necessarily the case, can mean less robust and rigorous data collection, analysis and interpretation. This is beginning to change as organisations become increasingly aware of the need to provide ‘hard’ evidence, in order to move towards the mainstreaming of NBIs and to secure funding. The gap in the broader nature and wellbeing literature for long-term studies is also very apparent in NBI research, and the few NBI studies with follow up research indicate that sustained benefits may not be being realised by participants (Husk et al., 2016; Wilson, 2009). As most research to date has been quantitative, and in-house qualitative work has tended to be more reflective and anecdotal in nature, robust, independently evaluated, qualitative studies would enable in-depth understanding of the meanings and perceptions of nature and wellbeing held at the individual level and facilitate greater understanding of the processes of change experienced.

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Further research is also needed to investigate the role of NBIs in supporting wider lifestyle change for enhanced wellbeing and the extent to which supported programmes are a catalyst to independent activity in the natural environment. In particular, there is a need to understand whether benefits for some participants are only possible with support and structure of NBIs, or whether there is more that projects could do to support the promotion of independence and personal responsibility for wellbeing. In addition to establishing benefits, a better understanding of barriers to the independent use of greenspace would help targeted development of, and spending on, interventions. The combination of methods used in our evaluation of the Actif Woods programme aims to answer some of these questions, in particular how the programme works for participant wellbeing over the longer term.

ACTIF WOODS WALES CASE STUDY Whilst there is no definitive picture of the scale of NBIs on the ground (Bragg and Atkins, 2016), there is broad consensus that their number is growing in the UK (Shanahan et al., 2019; Bloomfield, 2017). One such programme, the focus of this study, is Actif Woods Wales (AWW). In 2018, Wales had a population of 3,138,000, a largely ageing population (Welsh Government, 2020) and consistently higher poverty rates than the rest of the UK (Joseph Rowntree Foundation, 2017). Whilst many areas of Wales are rural in nature and of high environmental quality, the average population density ranges from densely populated urban areas such as the capital city, Cardiff (545.5 persons per square kilometre), to sparsely populated rural areas such as mid Wales (25.6 persons per square kilometre) (Welsh Government, 2020). As aforementioned, access to the countryside is not always equally shared. In terms of health and lifestyle, there is an upward trend of obesity as almost 60 per cent of adults are overweight, 24 per cent of whom are obese (Public Health Wales, 2019). Just over half of the population (54 per cent) reach the recommended 150 minutes of weekly physical activity, a figure that is lower for women and lower in deprived areas (Public Health Wales, 2019). AWW have been running woodland health and wellbeing programmes for adults across Wales since 2010. Their intention, with a strapline of ‘Getting Healthy the Woodland Way’ is to connect people and nature and by doing so seek to improve their health and wellbeing. They operate a constantly evolving programme of activities ranging from bushcraft to woodland walks, conservation and campfire cooking to foraging, mindfulness and more. With relevance to the growth in social prescribing, they partner health and social care organisations with woodland leaders, providing training and support to develop cross-sector skills and services for people with a wide range of health conditions and support needs. AWW criteria is that attending adults must be

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in need of intervention, that is, be suffering from a physical, mental or social issue that would benefit from the intervention, whether self-referred or otherwise. Whilst their health and wellbeing groups for adults are broader and open to people from any postcode, they tend to work in lower income areas as part of The Welsh European Funding Office ‘Convergence Funding’. A recent AWW sub-project, included in our evaluation, was an ‘Active Inclusion’ project, which targeted long-term unemployed and economically inactive adults over 25. In addition, a newer strand of their work is working with families whereby they specifically target families and adults from areas high on the index of multiple deprivation in Wales. In these ways the project is widening access to marginalised groups. Currently, they work with approximately 700 people a year, having grown steadily since their pilot period in 2010 when they reached approximately 50–100 people annually. A key objective for AWW from the outset has been to build capacity locally, both in environment and health sectors, and to build bridges between them. As such, they are working towards specified training pathways and qualifications to improve and support provision of services with qualified leaders. Echoing the broader UK-wide picture, despite an increasing acceptance and excitement about NBIs, AWW have struggled to secure stable long-term funding and currently lack more embedded institutional support through the public health service. Their vision is to embed nature-based health care within the health system with well-developed social prescribing arrangements and improved access and green infrastructure for woodland sites. From a policy perspective, projects such as AWW could contribute towards achievement of the Well Being of Future Generations (Wales) Act 2015 objectives of ‘A Healthier Wales’, ‘A More Equal Wales’, and ‘A Wales of Cohesive Communities’. For example, with regards to the first of these, AWW promotes an increase in healthy behaviours for participants through enhanced physical activity and increased social contact to benefit mental wellbeing. In-house evaluations of the project show promising results with quantitative data collected by AWW staff showing an increase in mental wellbeing and physical activity (Sultana, 2016), whilst a small-scale qualitative study with one group identified social interaction as a key element. Nonetheless, more large-scale independent research is needed to further explore and substantiate these findings. Responding to this, and the broader gaps identified in the literature, our study explores both the immediate and longer-term impacts on wellbeing of the Actif Woods programme and the extent to which the programme affects woodland access. The independently conducted research was sponsored by the Woodland Trust (WT) reflecting their aspiration to understand more about the role that their woodland estate could play in improving wellbeing. The Woodland Trust do not fund AWW so have no vested interest in study outcomes and whilst the study was collaborative, the researchers had

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full academic licence. Their (WT) hope is that the findings will help break down barriers to woodland access beyond the Trust’s usual audience.

A MIXED METHODS AND MULTIDISCIPLINARY APPROACH FROM HEALTH PSYCHOLOGY AND SOCIAL GEOGRAPHY This study took a multidisciplinary approach, bringing together insights from health psychology and social geography, and employed mixed methods of data collection and analysis. In this section we outline the benefits of applying this blended approach. First, we employed a large-scale quantitative study to enable the gathering of a large volume of robust data with demonstrable predictive utility and validity. The data generated by representative samples in quantitative research enable the mapping of characteristics and patterns of change and provide the ability to make statistically supported inferences about who an intervention is working for and in what way, that is, what benefits are experienced between different groups of users. Quantifiable data is generally preferred by medical health boards and funding commissioners and more often used to inform policy. Recognising limitations to the depth of understanding offered by quantitative data, a concurrent qualitative study helped us to understand observed changes in more detail from an individual rather than a group or subgroup perspective. Qualitative data also enabled us to explore what wellbeing means to people, beyond what is revealed by numerical scoring on a standardised wellbeing scale, for example. Our approach is informed by a combination of social geography and health psychology. For many within the field of social and cultural geography qualitative methods are favoured, perhaps arising from historical scepticism towards quantitative methods, stemming from deeper critiques of positivist spatial-science approaches dating back to the 1970s (Dixon and Jones, 1998; Kitchen, 2006). A particular concern with quantitative assessment is how the individual interprets the statements on fixed points scales or measures that they tick or rank scores for, which are not seen to capture or fully associate with what people ‘really’ experience and how they construct meaning. Within the newer discipline of health psychology, whilst large bodies of evidence around human behaviour and behaviour change are commonly associated with large quantitative surveys, it is increasingly recognised that methods that capture individual experience and enable individual expression of meaning offer much to the development of psycho-social interventions, which are themselves often offered at an individual level. Hence, there is an emerging and strengthening crossover between such disciplines, and indeed, in the 21st century, most approaches to researching health and wellbeing recognise its multifaceted

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nature and multidisciplinary teams collaborate in research employing mixed methods (Creswell and Clark, 2017). Social geography’s emphasis on qualitative methods is particularly useful in understanding the role that nature plays and how connectedness to nature works as part of individuals’ sense of self and identity (Atkinson et al., 2016). Particular attention has been given to the ‘relational assemblages’ of human– nature interactions and the way that wellbeing is intrinsically connected to the place in which it is generated (Bell et al., 2014). This is especially evident, for example in studies on indigenous people’s relationship to the land and its link to their wellbeing (Kingsley et al., 2013; Spiller et al., 2011). Although psychometric ‘nature connection’ scales exist, qualitative approaches can better tease out the nuances of this interrelatedness and how elements of the natural landscape may or may not benefit wellbeing. A wider critique from a geographical perspective has been the focus on the individual within much mainstream psychology. This relates to a wariness that responsibility for health and wellbeing has shifted too far in the direction of personal choice, detracting attention from structural challenges and social constraints, like ensuring that everyone has the resources and ability to meet their basic welfare needs (Foo, 2015). Atkinson and colleagues advocate for a need to consider a broader focus on community wellbeing that goes beyond how communities affect individuals to ‘reflect the ways in which people feel and are well together’ (2019, p. 1903; see also Smith and Dombroski, Chapter 6 this volume), thus approaching wellbeing as being ‘greater than the sum of its parts’. Robust qualitative and ethnographic methods that capture the ‘intra-active’ space-times of wellbeing and its ‘liveliness’ as it emerges are proposed by social geographers such as Smith and Reid (2018, p. 824). However, whilst the focus in the specific sub-discipline of health psychology is about understanding and improving the life of the individual, and their resources to cope with what is in their control on a more ‘micro’ level, it is widely recognised that health behaviour is influenced by context and many of the aforementioned ‘resources’ will be socially and culturally determined (Morrison and Bennett, 2016). Consequently, instead of seeing the two disciplines at odds, geographers such as Atkinson argue for a more productive ‘both/and’ approach, which uses the integrative nature of geography to catalyse dialogues with other disciplines. This, she suggests will play an important role in ‘advancing socially inclusive and progressive understandings of wellbeing’ (Schwanen and Atkinson, 2015, p. 101), so that individual wellbeing is not exclusive of wider definitions of wellbeing, such as community wellbeing (Atkinson et al., 2019). Taking all this into account, our methods combine approaches from both disciplines and focus on the ‘micro’ world of the individual whilst also capturing the ‘macro’ social and environmental context with both quantitative and qualitative meas-

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ures. In the subsequent sections, we give an indication of early results from both studies and consider their utility in the context of how they helped us to meet identified gaps in the literature for independent, robust and longer-term research that furthers understanding on how NBIs can support wellbeing.

IMPACTS OF ACTIF WOODS WALES ON SELF-REPORTED WELLBEING The quantitative study involved participants completing a self-completed questionnaire at baseline, end of course and at a three month follow up session, administered within the context of the programme’s woodland venues. Recruitment was from 20 different courses, which were mostly multi-activity programmes, but also included more specific ‘mindfulness in the woods’ courses and one ‘coppice products’ course, with programmes varying from four to twelve weeks in length. Some were aimed at particular groups, for example, the mental health charity Mind, a group from an older persons’ sheltered housing project or a brain injury unit. Others had multiple referral routes, which included self-referral, plus mental health, substance misuse recovery, domestic violence and homelessness projects. Eligibility included all adults participating in Actif Woods who had the mental capacity to provide consent and reflect on their wellbeing. One hundred and twenty individuals were recruited and the baseline sample shows that just over half were unemployed (51.1 per cent), 11.7 per cent were retired, and just over a third (33.3 per cent) had completed university education or higher. The majority of the sample (96 per cent) were white, reflective of the areas in which AWW operate. Over three quarters of the group had declared either physical or mental health issues or both, with over a quarter having co-occurring conditions. Only 23.1 per cent of the sample reported no health issues, whilst 24.8 per cent had a co-morbidity of two issues and 28.9 per cent had plural co-morbidities of three or more conditions. These findings demonstrate that AWW’s target of working with those in need of intervention, certainly from a health perspective, is successfully being met. It is also evident from the employment and education figures that they are meeting the wider challenge of engaging with lower socio-economic status groups thus, extending the benefits of time in nature to a wider audience. This is largely due to a history of successful partnership working with health and social support providers and the explicit targeting of the Active Inclusion project noted above. The primary outcome of personal wellbeing was measured by the Short Warwick and Edinburgh Mental Well-being Scale (SWEMWBS) which is used both nationally and internationally (Stewart-Brown and Janmohamed, 2008). The decision to use this measure was a pragmatic one based on its robust reliability and validity (Stewart-Brown et al., 2009; Trotter and Adams,

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2017; New Economics Foundation, 2012) and the fact that it had been used by AWW for monitoring since the project began. Whilst recognising that it only measures mental wellbeing, it is a widely used scale in the field (Natural Health Service, 2016; Wilson, 2009), enabling comparability. Pertinent to funders and policy makers, the ability to cost improvements using this scale also provides valuable data on impact (Trotter and Adams, 2017). In order to get a broader picture of change, a range of possible mediators associated with personal wellbeing were also measured. This included general health, known to closely align with personal wellbeing (Appleby, 2016), and physical activity, which is known to influence physical (WHO, 2013) and mental health (Tessier et al., 2017). Additionally, both factors replicated measures used in previous AWW studies. Given the key role of the social dimension of overall wellbeing, this factor was investigated using a single question about social trust (New Economics Foundation, 2012). Self-efficacy and self-esteem (Schwarzer and Jerusalem, 1995; Rosenberg, 1965) were also measured as belief states that can positively or negatively influence or be influenced by the decisions people make regarding their health behaviours (such as activity). Short versions of scales were used where possible to minimise participant burden in the field. The SWEMWBS is a 7-item scale which is summed to give a total between 7 (low) and 35 (high). The mean score for the mental wellbeing of the cohort at baseline was slightly towards the higher end of the scale at the time of recruitment (20.46, standard error of the mean (SE) .42, n = 114), but lower than the UK population norm (23.61, SE .05, n = 7196) (Warwick Medical School, 2011), further suggesting that AWW reaches those in need. In terms of physical activity (measured in terms of days, when at least 30 minutes of physical activity that increased heart and breathing rate, and caused a bit of sweating, was taken), the mean score was mid-range (3.13 days per week, SE = .22, n = 118), reflecting habits of a fairly active group and suggesting that the programme attracts those who are already reasonably active. Nonetheless, given that current guidelines are to engage in some type of physical activity daily (NHS, 2020) there is room for improvement. At the extremes however, just under a fifth of the sample had done no exercise at all in the last seven days, showing effective recruitment of a hard to reach population who rarely or never exercise. Indeed, physical inactivity is the fourth leading risk factor for global mortality (WHO, 2017a) and a major concern in the UK, where it is a much greater causal factor for mortality than in similar countries like the USA, the Netherlands or France (O’Brien, 2014). As might be expected, the psycho-social measures were all highly correlated with each other, that is, if you were high (low) in wellbeing, you were high (low) in self-efficacy or self-esteem. The type of health condition that participants entered the study with affected their mental wellbeing scores, whereby those first attending with

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comorbid physical and mental health conditions reported the lowest wellbeing. This was a pattern repeated across the other psycho-social measures. Analysis of the quantitative data at entry point allowed us to see how participant demographics affected the key measures and will allow for better monitoring of differences over time. For example, there were no gender effects on any of the outcomes. In terms of age however, the over 65 age group had the highest self-reported general health. Given that physical health challenges usually increase with age, self-rated health might be expected to be lower for this group. Instead, what we see here could be a reflection of how the self-reporting relates to how participants feel their health is as indeed, self-related health judgements do not always coincide with actual health status (Morrison and Bennett, 2016). Another surprising finding was that the lowest levels of physical activity were for the middle-aged group, significantly lower than for the younger group, which perhaps indicates how busyness, stress or responsibilities in middle life play a part in making time for activity for the middle-aged group. Initial results from the quantitative data show us that mental wellbeing increased, with the mean score for the cohort across the courses having shifted up 2.21 points between baseline and end of course, bringing it almost to the level of the UK population norm, enabling broad inferences about the success of the course to be made. Data analysis showed that the impact was greatest for those reporting mental ill health and even more so for those reporting both mental and physical ill health. Similar to results for an earlier study (Sultana, 2016), the impact was greatest for those who started out with lower wellbeing. Additionally, there was significant increase in all the aforementioned mediators of personal wellbeing and longer-term outcomes (measured at three months post-course) showed that these gains had held with no significant increases or decreases. Further breakdown of mediators of wellbeing and any subgroup differences in the long-term outcomes will be presented in future papers. A particular focus of the study was exploring how the programme affected woodland use. We found that 17 per cent of our sample had never visited the woods prior to the course starting, and that a further 30 per cent reported going only between one and four times a year. This suggests that the programme has successfully recruited people who stand to gain if their access habits can be changed by participating. When the psycho-social measures were examined in relation to visit frequency, a positive association emerged between frequency of visits and levels of social trust. Corroborating this, when asked what might prevent woodland access, the most commonly occurring reason given (by almost half the sample) was not having anyone to go with, which links to an increased awareness of loneliness (What Works Wellbeing, 2018), known to impact on mental health and wellbeing. One assumption might be that those

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with stronger social networks (that is, people to go to the woods with) have higher levels of social trust, which in turn results in increased woodland access. This demonstrates the kind of questions that quantitative data usefully raises, and that qualitative data seeks to answer.

UNDERSTANDING HOW NATURE BASED INTERVENTIONS IMPACT WELLBEING In order to address the aforementioned gaps in understanding the mechanisms of NBIs in terms of their effects on personal wellbeing, we conducted a series of eleven focus groups within a sub-set of projects from the quantitative study (names have been changed to protect anonymity). These were also carried out at the course end and a subsequent three month follow up to enable crucial longitudinal insight. The qualitative data was seen to be particularly important in terms of understanding the role that both social processes and nature played in supporting the wellbeing benefits experienced. Most notably for participants reporting mental ill health, we discovered that the programme worked particularly well for them because of several attributes of outdoor space. Key factors included being able to walk around to manage anxiety and shyness, or simply feeling more relaxed and comfortable. A sense that ‘you can be yourself in the woods’ (Angie), for example, or that ‘You don’t have to perform for the trees’ (Louise) came through strongly. These sentiments connected to a wider finding from the focus groups on how the programme broadened participants’ perspectives. For example, as Janet said, ‘your bubble’s got bigger instead of being smaller’, a meaningful change for someone who had previously described herself as being socially isolated and living with what she described as the ‘stigma’ of her poor mental health. This shift was related to a combination of being in the woods, learning new skills and having new experiences, and gives real insight into how wellbeing gains were made. Alongside the supportive role that nature played in instigating positive changes in wellbeing, the social processes inherent in the NBI experience, the ‘being part of a team, doing stuff’ (Angie), were really important. This was particularly the case for those with health and social care needs, where the sense of being in a group meant that they did not feel judged by their fellow group members. Being with people ‘in the same boat’ gave rise to the sense of the group as a safe space, ‘you don’t feel like you’re on your own with your problems, you know other people have got problems similar to you’ (Wayne); ‘There’s no judgement is there? No one’s judging you’ (Louise); ‘not labelled’ (Janet). A place where you do not feel different or have to put on a front was

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described as a very normalising experience, somewhere where you do not have to hide your mental health challenges, as Marian explains: …to talk about um anxiety depression uh you know there’s a big taboo isn’t there… I’m just not comfortable with it, you know, outside of HERE really…I WOULDN’T talk about it…I would HATE anyone to ask me how I was…because…I, I don’t know what to say! But it’s just kind of been um acceptable.

Moving away from mental health stigma was an outcome Janet described from the programme. The mechanism given for her newfound resilience was the support of the group, which enabled her to manage her mental health better and find a steady place in the world from which to meet it: ‘It’s having…having difficulties that you get labelled for…but when you come to a group…and have the support that you’ve had from THIS group…you don’t feel ALONE, and you don’t feel labelled….’ For Anna, and others who had not spent much time in the natural environment previously, woodlands as a space for wellbeing really came on to their radar as a new possibility, for example, ‘I think you just realise just how much is there, just in nature… and yeah, it’s amazing….’ She went on to describe how the various social and natural elements of the course came together to improve how she felt at the end of a session: I think as the others have said, you know, just listening to bird song…and just being in nature and also, you know, we all help each other…I don’t feel challenged by anybody here…its…everybody helps everyone else…and…and so…by the time you leave…you just and just being in the open air…being in the fresh air, so by the time you leave you feel quite good.

Addressing the need for a better understanding of the sustainability of the benefits gained, and whether longer term behaviour change is supported through the provision of fixed-term programmes like AWW, we learnt that this wider perspective gained over the course was indeed a catalyst to changing habits and positive behaviour change beyond the programme. This included for example, ‘Dave’, in recovery from substance misuse, who is now a regular conservation volunteer, Fiona, a young woman with multiple health issues, who gained the confidence to use a bus on her own and Derek, an older man with physical health issues who was previously inactive and now goes for a daily walk in his neighbouring greenspace. Thus, we can see how the programme leads to increased outdoor activity and social connectedness beyond the life of the course.

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CONCLUSION Whilst recognising that a programme like Actif Woods Wales cannot be a panacea for health and wellbeing, the study has been successful in demonstrating wellbeing gains in line with similar projects such as The Mersey Forest or the Branching Out Programme (Natural Health Service, 2016; Wilson, 2009), at the same time addressing key research gaps. By working alongside Actif Woods Wales, a fundamental contribution of the research has been the ability to understand processes and changes in a real-world context, recruiting participants with a range of health and social support needs. The mixed methods approach meant that the quantitative study provided evidence of wellbeing gain suitable for funders and policy makers, using well validated measures comparable beyond the programme such as the SWEMWBS. This showed who is benefitting, demonstrating impact for those with the worst wellbeing at baseline and that the project is able to attract those who stand to make greater gains. In tandem, the qualitative approach played a critical role in understanding individually meaningful insights such as the pivotal role of the woodland environment, demonstrating the centrality of this and the social context to the wellbeing gains. Whilst not aimed at distinguishing one from the other, the research demonstrated an interdependency of influences on enhancing wellbeing through the structure and support of the intervention, the social processes engendered by taking part in activities outside with others in the supportive space of the natural environment. Overall, the study showed that taking part in the AWW NBI can lead to unsupported repeat visits to woods. This helps to address the gulf in the evidence base for longitudinal data, showing how the programme can be a catalyst to wider and lasting changes. Together, the quantitative and qualitative data showed how psychological barriers were reduced for people, including those identified as being ‘hard to reach’ (O’Brien and Morris, 2014) such as lower income groups. This is valuable data for land managers such as the Forestry Commission (FC) who own 13 per cent of woodland in the UK, and as a public body aim to increase the value of it to all sectors of society. This is particularly important given that lower income groups are persistently under-represented in countryside visit figures and that access to nature can moderate socio-economic health inequalities. The study also contributes to our understanding of how the Woodland Trust (who actively campaign to increase physical access for the public to woodlands in the UK) and others, seeking to expand the use of their estate to improve people’s wellbeing can facilitate this. Whilst some data gives valuable insight into the unique qualities of woods, much can be applied to nature more broadly as people did not often distin-

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guish. Although the study was based in Wales, this is not a unique context and there is scope for wider usage of interventions such as AWW which could work equally well elsewhere. Their model shows a way to enhance the therapeutic benefits of nature for health and wellbeing in the way that other nations, such as Japan and Korea do, where ‘forest therapy’ is well established. The World Health Organization have acknowledged that very few public health interventions can provide the range of benefits afforded by greenspace (WHO, 2017b), however there is a lack of mainstreaming. Structural change is needed to embed and mainstream NBIs to really capitalise on this. Funding through health boards for example, would remove the need to pursue repeat rounds of short-term funding for AWW and other NBIs to be able to deliver their service. This would enable long-term community engagement that provides therapeutic and preventative care for people whilst also caring for the woodland environment.

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Kuo, F.E. and E. William, C. Sullivan, R. Levine Coley, L. Brunson. (1998), ‘Fertile ground for community: Inner-city neighborhood common spaces. American Journal of Community Psychology, 26 (6), 823‒851. Linton, M.-J. and P. Dieppe, A. Medina-Lara (2016), A review of 99 self-report measures for assessing wellbeing in adults: Exploring dimensions of wellbeing and developments over time. BMJ Open, 6 (7), e010641. Maller, C. and M. Townsend, A. Pryor, P. Brown, L. St Leger (2006), Healthy nature healthy people: Contact with nature as an upstream health promotion intervention for populations. Health Promotion International, 21 (1), 45‒54. Meyer, K. and R. Buerger-Arndt (2014), How forests foster human health: Present state of research-based knowledge (in the field of forests and human health). International Forestry Review, 16, 421–446. Mind (2013), ‘Feel better outside, feel better inside: Ecotherapy for mental wellbeing, resilience and recovery’, London: Mind, 1‒48. Mind (2015), ‘Making sense of ecotherapy’, accessed 20 October 2016 at www​.mind​ .org​.uk/​making​-sense​-of​-ecotherapy. Mitchell, R. and F. Popham (2008), Effect of exposure to natural environment on health inequalities: An observational population study. Lancet (London, England), 372, 1655–1660. Moore, E. (1981), A prison environment’s effect on health care service demands. Journal of Environmental Systems, 11, 2190. Morris, J. and E. O’Brien, B. Ambrose-Oji, A. Lawrence, C. Carter, A. Peace (2011), Access for all? Barriers to accessing woodlands and forests in Britain. The International Journal of Justice and Sustainability, 16 (4), 375‒396. Morrison, V. and P. Bennett (2016), An Introduction to Health Psychology. London: Pearson. National Health Service (NHS) (2020), Exercise, accessed 8 May 2020 at https://​www​ nhs​.uk/​live​-well/​exercise/​. Natural England (2018), ‘Monitor of Engagement with the Natural Environment: The national survey on people and the natural environment Headline Report 2018’, accessed 10 September 2018 at http://​naturalengland​.tns​-global​.com/​. Natural Health Service (2016), ‘The Natural Health Service: Four key facts for health commissioners’, The Mersey Forest: Natural Health Service. New Economics Foundation (NEF) (2012), Measuring Well-being A Guide for Practitioners. London: New Economics Foundation. O’Brien, L. (2014), We have stopped moving: Tackling physical inactivity – a role for the Public Forest Estate in England? Forestry Commission Briefing Note 1–12. O’Brien, L. and J. Morris (2014), Well-being for all? The social distribution of benefits gained from woodlands and forests in Britain. Local Environment, 19 (4), 356‒383. Pope, D. and R. Tisdall, J. Middleton, A. Verma (2015), Quality of and access to green space in relation to psychological distress. European Journal of Public Health, 28 (1), 35‒38. Public Health Wales (2019), Obesity in Wales. Public Health Wales NHS Trust, 1‒74. Rosenberg, M. (1965), Society and the Adolescent Self-image. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Schwanen, T. and S. Atkinson (2015), Geographies of wellbeing: An introduction. The Geographical Journal, 181 (2), 98‒101. Schwarzer, R. and M. Jerusalem (1995), Generalized self-efficacy scale, in J. Weinman, S. Wright, and M. Johnston (eds), Measures in Health Psychology: A User’s Portfolio. Causal and Control Beliefs. Windsor, UK: Nfer-Nelson, pp. 35‒37.

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Shanahan, D.F. and T. Astell–Burt, E.A. Barber, E. Brymer, D.T. Cox, J. Dean, J.A. Jones (2019), Nature–based interventions for improving health and wellbeing: The purpose, the people and the outcomes. Sports, 7 (6), 141. Smith, T.S. and L. Reid (2018), Which “being” in wellbeing? Ontology, wellness and the geographies of happiness. Progress in Human Geography, 42 (6), 807‒829. Spiller, C. and L. Erakovic, M. Henare, E. Pio (2011), Relational well-being and wealth: Māori businesses and an ethic of care. Journal of Business Ethics, 98(1), 153‒169. Stewart-Brown, S. and K. Janmohamed (2008), Warwick-Edinburgh Mental Well-being (WEMWBS) User Guide. Warwick Medical School, University of Warwick. Stewart-Brown, S.A. and R. Tennant, S. Platt, J. Parkinson, S. Weich (2009), Internal construct validity of the Warwick–Edinburgh Mental Well-Being Scale (WEMWBS): A Rasch analysis using data from the Scottish Health Education Population Survey. Health and Quality of Life Outcomes, 7 (1), 15. Sultana, F. (2016), ‘Accruing health benefits from attending Actif Woods intervention programme, based in a natural environment’, Unpublished Masters Thesis, Bangor University. Tessier, P. and M. Blanchin, V. Sébille (2017), Does the relationship between health-related quality of life and subjective wellbeing change over time? An exploratory study among breast cancer patients. Social Science & Medicine, 174, 96–103. Thompson Coon, J. and K. Boddy, K. Stein, R. Whear, J. Barton, M.H. Depledge (2011), Does participating in physical activity in outdoor natural environments have a greater effect on physical and mental wellbeing than physical activity indoors? A systematic review. Environmental Science and Technology, 45 (5), 1761‒1772. Trotter, L. and M.K. Rallings Adams (2017), Valuing Improvements in Mental Health: Applying the Wellbeing Valuation Method to WEMWBS. London: HACT. Ulrich, R.S. and R.F. Simons, B.D. Losito, E. Fiorito, M.A. Miles, M. Zelson (1991), Stress recovery during exposure to natural and urban environments. Journal of Environmental Psychology, 11, 201–230. Warwick Medical School (2011), WEMBWBS and SWEMBS population norms Health Survey for England 2011, accessed 15 May 2020 at https://​www​.corc​.uk​net/​ media/​1243/​wemwbs​_populationnorms2011​.pdf. Welsh Government (2020), Summary statistics for Wales, by region: 2020, accessed 20 March 2020 at https://​gov​.wales/​sites/​default/​files/​statistics​-and​-research/​2020​-05/​ summary​-statistics​-regions​-wales​-2020​-629​.pdf. West, M.J. (1985), Landscape views and stress response in the prison environment. M.L.A. thesis. Department of Landscape Architecture, University of Washington, Seattle, WA. What Works Wellbeing (2018), An overview of reviews: The effectiveness of interventions to address loneliness at all stages of the life course. What Works Wellbeing, October 2018. Wheeler, B.W. and R. Lovell, S.L. Higgins, M.P. White, I. Alcock, N.J. Osborne, K. Husk, C.E. Sabel, M.H. Depledge (2015), Beyond greenspace: An ecological study of population general health and indicators of natural environment type and quality. International Journal of Health Geographics, 14 (1), 17. White, M.P. and I. Alcock, J. Grellier, B.W. Wheeler, T. Hartig, S.L. Warber, A. Bone, M.H. Depledge, L.E. Fleming (2019), Spending at least 120 minutes a week in nature is associated with good health and wellbeing. Scientific Reports, 9 (1), 1‒11. White, M.P. and I. Alcock, B.W. Wheeler, M.H. Depledge (2013), Would you be happier living in a greener urban area? A fixed-effects analysis of panel data. Psychological Science, 24 (6), 920‒928.

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White, M.P. and L.R. Elliott, T. Taylor, B.W. Wheeler, A. Spencer, A. Bone, M.H. Depledge, L.E. Fleming (2016), Recreational physical activity in natural environments and implications for health: A population based cross-sectional study in England. Preventative Medicine (Baltimore), 91, 383–388. Wilson, N. (2009), Branching Out Report: Greenspace and Conservation on Referral. Forestry Commission Scotland. World Health Organization (WHO) (2013), Global action plan for the prevention and control of non-communicable diseases 2013‒2020. Geneva: World Health Organization. World Health Organization (WHO) (2017a), Physical Activity Fact Sheet, updated February 2017, accessed 2 March 2017 at http://​ www​ .who​ .int/​ mediacentre/​ factsheets/​fs385/​en. World Health Organization (WHO) (2017b), Urban green space interventions and health: A review of impacts and effectiveness. Full report, Geneva: World Health Organization.

14. Commentary to Part III: wellbeing: a means for informed policy-making Susan J Elliott As my eminent colleague Sarah Atkinson (this volume) states: The challenges for a more just and inclusive experience of wellbeing are huge and likely to grow. As she also reminds us, COVID-19 has shone an unforgiving spotlight on existing inequalities (for example poverty; access to water; gendered violence) from which we are encouraged to ‘bounce forward, not simply bounce back’. Wellbeing – now the stuff of governance and decision making (starting with the original Bhutanese Gross National Happiness Index – https://​www​ .gr​ossnationa​lhappiness​.com/​) – has matured to a standalone concept – not just the tag-a-long poor cousin to ‘health’ (as in health and wellbeing). As such, it requires theorization, conceptualization and operationalization (I can feel the students in my undergraduate research methods course cringing as I write this!). Having investigated wellbeing for almost a decade now, I have come to three conclusions that I will expound upon in this brief commentary, informed by the insightful chapters in this section. First, the concept itself is quite simple: wellbeing occupies that space between expectation and reality. Second, its theorization, conceptualization and operationalization are not; not simple, that is – and this process is a marathon, not a sprint (or in Searle’s much more eloquent words, Chapter 18, this volume) wellbeing should not be placed as an outcome but as a co-evolving process of transformation); all of this requires humanity to disclose the type of future to which it aspires, and to also theorize, conceptualize and operationalize related concepts such as: enough (Ossewaarde-Lowtoo, 2017). Third, it is just as essential to explore and understand the wellbeing of places as it is to understand the wellbeing of people if we are going to have that future to which we aspire. As most authors throughout this text have quite rightly pointed out, there is no one agreed upon definition of wellbeing. Indeed, we have been wrestling with this issue for some time, as the myriad of references in this volume to ancient philosophers can attest. This is not a surprise given that wellbeing is a socially constructed concept – like ‘healthy’, like ‘poor’, like ‘disadvantaged’. I am compelled in this context to share with the reader my own defi229

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nition and in so doing draw upon the work of Nobel prize winning economist Angus Deaton (2013: 24): I use the term wellbeing to refer to all of the things that are good for a person, that make for a good life. Wellbeing includes material wellbeing, such as income and wealth; physical and psychological wellbeing, represented by health and happiness; and education and the ability to participate in civil society through democracy and the rule of law.

To this, as a geographer, I add the context within which wellbeing happens; for example, the characteristics of the physical and built environments, and the level of vitality attached to one’s community, as well as sense of/attachment to place. Indeed, others have shown repeatedly how important context is to our understanding of the wellbeing of populations (Matthews, 2012). In the context of the use of wellbeing measures/indices as a ‘useful’ governance tool, the answer from Grimes’ analysis (Chapter 17) is a resounding ‘no’ or at least ‘not yet’; the tools developed appear at best uncertain (Bhutan) and at worst, completely ignored (France) in decision making. Wales seems to have a solid idea of what their wellbeing goals are, and those are linked to the SDGs and hence budgets, but not much to report in terms of action to this point. New Zealand has done a good job of linking wellbeing to budgets but it’s early days yet. It would appear, in my humble view, that perhaps a useful way forward would be to develop a set of wellbeing domains that make sense globally (health status; education; state of the physical environment; community vitality; democratic engagement; time use; living standards; leisure and culture; these are just some globally acceptable examples (see Elliott et al., 2017)) and allow nation states to define the indicators underneath those domains such that they are socially, culturally and geographically relevant thus allowing for temporal and spatial comparison of policy impact and evaluation (Elliott et al., 2017). In so doing, an important recommendation of the Stiglitz–Sen–Fitoussi Commission is the need for indicators to highlight the inequalities in individual experiences. This is important, as progress depends both on the average conditions in society as well as inequalities in people’s conditions (Stiglitz et al., 2009). What about measuring wellbeing in a specific niche area? Hendriks (Chapter 15) explores happiness in the context of migration and suggests that those who migrate are indeed happier, the communities who host them are rather neutral, and those left behind enjoy greater happiness as a result of the migration process (perhaps due to feelings of satisfaction for family members and/or remittance opportunities?). Hendriks concludes that an important component of this process is the management of expectations – as I stated above, wellbeing is that space between expectations and reality. Biedenweg and Trimbach

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(Chapter 16) explore the use and usefulness of the capabilities approach in natural resource management. In so doing, these authors present two rather fascinating case studies, first of Ecuador’s buen vivir (good life) and, second, of Puget Sound in Washington State in the north west of the USA. They also explore the concept through a traditional public health lens – healthy parks, healthy people. In the academic literature, we will often see this work referred to as ‘green spaces’ (parks, wilderness areas), ‘blue spaces’ (bodies of water), and/or ‘therapeutic landscapes’ (Bell et al., 2018). I believe the take-home message from their chapter is: some things are tangible, some are intangible, but we need more work to be able to measure both to see if we are producing wellbeing through the processes of developing our natural resources in a sustainable manner. How indeed will we produce wellbeing in the process of achieving the SDGs? As Searle (Chapter 18) reminds us, Our Common Future was penned over three decades ago, and yet we continue to have these same conversations about the tensions between economy, wellbeing, and environment. In order to ‘get there’, we need to change our dominant narratives – the way we make sense of the world. So, what if we changed our dominant narrative of enough – and employed the Buddhist economic view – an economics of peace, remembering that – indeed – small is beautiful (Schumacher, 1973)? At the end of the day, do we throw the baby out with the bath water? Or do we default to the academic trope: more research is needed. Returning to the take-home messages from my decade of engaging with wellbeing as a construct, I continue to declare that wellbeing sits in that space between expectations and reality. As my team has observed in the exploration of wellbeing in LMICs, the experience of wellbeing is relative – how is my life relative to the life of my neighbour; that will set my expectations (Kangmennaang et al., 2019). With respect to the need for theorization, conceptualization and operationalization as a construct, this will happen over time as most academic work does but requires a space for conversation, which is why I secured the launch in 2020 of the new journal Wellbeing, Space and Society (https://​www​.journals​ .elsevier​.com/​wellbeing​-space​-and​-society/​). And finally, it is indeed essential that we focus not just on the wellbeing of individuals, whether subjective or objective, but also the wellbeing of places. To paraphrase Schumacher (1973): Yet it remains an unalterable truth that, just as a sound mind depends on a sound body, so the health of [places] depends on the health of [its inhabitants][and vice versa].

A major pre-requisite for measuring both objective and subjective wellbeing is to build the capacity of official statistical agencies to meet the demand for data. These sets of data, including data in areas related to economic performance and environmental sustainability are needed in high-, middle- and low-income

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countries in order to build comprehensive and comparable measures of wellbeing for policy-making. Looking into the future, measuring a complex and multifaceted concept such as wellbeing is not an end in itself but a means for informed policy-making. Thus, the challenge is not only how to create and share knowledge about how communities, groups, and countries are flourishing, thriving, and using their capabilities to achieve their full human potential, but how such knowledge is used to create healthy, just, and sustainable communities and nations (Wiseman and Brasher, 2008; Krishnakumar and Nogales, 2015; Hone et al., 2014). As the world struggles to pin down the Sustainable Development Goals and their measures, we learn from the recent Addis Ababa Action Agenda (AAAA in 2015), it’s all about building capacity – through the incentivization of science, investment in education, and knowledge sharing – in order to make good decisions to support strong and healthy global populations (Lancet, 25 July 2015: 311). As Matthews (2012: 299) points out: ‘Following Stiglitz’s advice, scientists can help governments “do the right thing” by assisting them in measuring the right thing.’ But first, we must define the future to which we all aspire: Needless to say, wealth, education, research and many other things are needed for any civilization, but what is most needed today is a revision of the ends which these means are meant to serve. (Schumacher, 1973: 219)

REFERENCES Bell, S., R. Foley, F. Houghton, A. Haddrell and A. Williams (2018), From therapeutic landscapes to health spaces, places and practices: a scoping review. Social Science and Medicine, 196, 123‒130. Deaton, A. (2013), The Great Escape: Health, Wealth and the Origins of Inequality. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Elliott, S.J., J. Dixon, E. Bisung and J.A. Kangmennaang (2017), GLOWING footprint: Developing an index of wellbeing for low to middle income countries. International Journal of Wellbeing, 7 (2), 1‒27. doi: 10.5502/ijw.v7i2.503. Hone, L.C., A. Jarden, G.M. Schofield and S. Duncan (2014), Measuring flourishing: The impact of operational definitions on the prevalence of high levels of wellbeing. International Journal of Wellbeing, 4 (1), 62‒90. Kangmennaang, J., S.J. Elliott and B. Smale (2019), ‘When you think your neighbour’s cooking pot is better than yours’: A mixed methods exploration of inequality and wellbeing in Ghana. Social Science and Medicine. doi: 10.1016/j. socscimed.2019.112577. Krishnakumar, J. and R. Nogales (2015), Public policies for wellbeing with justice: A theoretical discussion based on capabilities and opportunities. International Journal of Wellbeing, 5 (3), 44‒62. Matthews, G. (2012), Happiness, culture and context. International Journal of Wellbeing, 2 (4), 299‒312. Ossewaarde-Lowtoo, R. (2017), The humanization of economic life: The legacy of Martin Buber. Cross Currents. doi​.org/​10​.1111/​cros​.12255.

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Schumacher F. (1973), Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered. New York: Blonde and Briggs. Stiglitz, J., A. Sen and J.P. Fitoussi (2009), Report of the commission on the measurement of economic performance and social progress. Paris: OECD. Retrieved from http://​www​.stiglitz​-sen​-fitoussi​.en. Wiseman, J. and K. Brasher (2008), Community well-being in an unwell world: Trends, challenges, and possibilities. Journal of Public Health Policy, 29, 353‒366.

15. Who benefits and who suffers from international migration? Global evidence from the science of happiness Martijn Hendriks INTRODUCTION The considerable wellbeing differences between countries show that one’s place of living is a key determinant of wellbeing and suggest that migrating to another country can be a powerful instrument for individuals and families to improve their lives (Helliwell et al., 2018). Accordingly, more than 700 million people currently say they would move permanently to another country if they had the opportunity (Esipova et al., 2017). Moreover, the international migrant population is expected to increase from the current 250 million to an estimated 400 million people in 2050 (United Nations, 2015). The migration literature also emphasizes, however, many negative migration experiences, including stories about migrant exploitation and human trafficking (IOM, 2015), and unsuccessful assimilation, homesickness and emotional suffering (Abrego, 2014). Although it is unclear to what extent migrants benefit or suffer from migration, it is evident that migration to another country is one of the most impactful decisions for people’s wellbeing as migration breaks the systematic patterns in which people live their lives. Immigration is also a core wellbeing issue in hosting countries. Many inhabitants believe or fear that migrant inflows threaten their wellbeing. For instance, according to Europeans, immigration is, alongside the related threat of terrorism, the biggest issue faced by the European Union (O’Connor, 2020). This concern about immigration was, for instance, an important (even if not the only) cause of Brexit. These concerns are not unique to Europeans. Similar concerns relating to immigration seem to have contributed strongly to, for instance, the election of Donald Trump as president of the United States in 2016. By contrast, many believe that open borders are pertinent for societal 234

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wellbeing, and for this reason open borders are a key pillar of, for instance, the European Union. Given the omnipresence and potential impact of international migration, making more out of human migration is one of the biggest challenges we face in our globalizing world. Knowledge regarding the following question is essential for prospective migrants and policymakers in making informed decisions regarding migration: to what extent – and under what conditions – are immigrants, host-country populations, and those left behind better off overall as a result of migration? To answer this question to the extent possible, this chapter summarizes current knowledge from the scientific literature about the impact of migration on the happiness of migrants, hosting populations, and families and others left behind in the home country. It emphasizes how the impact depends on context and differs between individuals to reveal under what conditions positive outcomes are achieved. This chapter’s focus is on people’s subjective wellbeing, often colloquially referred to as happiness. Subjective wellbeing has an evaluative and an affective component that is assessed via people’s self-reported affective experiences (for example, the frequency of experiencing positive and negative emotions) and how they evaluate the quality of their lives (for example, their life satisfaction), respectively. Subjective wellbeing measures are rapidly emerging metrics used to comprehensively evaluate human wellbeing. While these subjective measures of wellbeing are less precise than objective measures of wellbeing such as income and educational outcomes, the core strengths of them are their ability to capture, in an integrated manner, what people hope to ultimately gain from life by allowing individuals to evaluate their own outcomes while taking into account their own preferences (Hendriks and Bartram, 2019; OECD, 2013). That is, the economics literature shows that people are strongly (even if not exclusively) driven by happiness maximization (Benjamin et al., 2014). Accordingly, relocation decisions of the large majority of voluntary migrants tend to heavily depend on their beliefs about what will make them or their families happiest (Benjamin et al., 2014). Reflecting the importance of happiness across disciplines and cultures, this chapter features the key insights and evidence from the interdisciplinary sciences of happiness and migration from a global perspective.

THE IMPACT OF MIGRATION ON MIGRANTS Empirical Evidence Most evidence suggests that immigrants generally benefit substantially from migration (Hendriks, 2015). However, important differences exist between the subjective experiences of migrants moving to and from different regions of the

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world. Notably, a recent study of some 36,000 migrants from more than 150 countries estimates that immigrants evaluate the quality of their lives 9 per cent higher after migration, they experience 5 per cent more positive emotions (enjoyment, happiness, and laughter) and 7 per cent less negative emotions (worry, sadness, and anger) following migration (Hendriks et al., 2018a). The largest happiness gains are generally experienced by people moving to more developed countries (see also IOM, 2013). For instance, of all flows examined in Hendriks et al. (2018a), the largest happiness gains occurred among migrants who moved to Western Europe from developing regions, including sub-Saharan Africa (a gain in perceived quality of life of 29 per cent), the Middle East and North Africa (16 per cent gain), Central and Eastern Europe (14 per cent gain), and the Commonwealth of Independent States (14 per cent gain). However, there are notable exceptions to this general pattern. Interestingly, the average migrant moving from Latin America and the Caribbean to Western countries does not gain much happiness by migrating (see also Graham and Nikolova, 2018). Latin American emigration is an interesting case because the region is known for being much happier than would be expected based on its level of development (Rojas, 2018). The reason Latin Americans are so happy may be due to their rich social lives, particularly their strong and supportive relationships with friends, family, and others – a part of life they may partly lose by migrating (Rojas, 2018). Another notable exception comes from the only experimental data available, which concerns a migration lottery among Tongan residents hoping to move to New Zealand. Four years after migration, the ‘lucky’ Tongans, who were allowed to migrate, were less happy than the ‘unlucky’ Tongans who stayed behind, even though the voluntary migrants enjoyed substantially better objective wellbeing, such as nearly triple their pre-migration income (Stillman et al., 2015). The impact for people moving between similarly developed places is mixed, with persons moving between developed countries benefiting more than people moving between developing countries (see also IOM, 2013). Examples of such migration flows where positive outcomes were observed are Western Europeans moving to Northern America, Australia or New Zealand and people moving from the United Kingdom to Ireland. Examples of migration flows where no positive outcomes were observed are individuals moving within South Asia or between the United States, Canada, Australia, and New Zealand. For those moving to less developed countries, the results tend to be either neutral or negative (IOM, 2013). For instance, Hendriks et al. (2018a) observe a non-significant effect for some 750,000 Western Europeans who moved to Eastern Europe, while Bartram (2015) did find a negative effect for Western Europeans moving to Southern Europe. These findings imply that despite the happiness gains achieved by a majority of migrants, there is a considerable

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group of international migrants who do not become happier from migration. A more detailed overview of this literature is provided in Hendriks (2015). Theoretical Explanations The above findings should not be interpreted to show that moving to a wealthier country is all that matters. For migrants who have no trouble making ends meet, happiness is only modestly related to individual incomes and the broader economic environment (Bartram, 2011). Other country-level conditions are at least as important for wellbeing – most notably, the host society’s social environment, particularly the attitudes of the native born toward immigrants (Hendriks and Bartram, 2016). This finding makes the strong ethnic polarization and tensions between migrants and non-migrants in many countries particularly concerning. Accordingly, Hendriks (2018) shows that the average happiness gain of migrants is more strongly correlated with the happiness gap (r=0.80) and the development gap (r=0.76) than with the income gap (r=0.62) between destination and origin countries. The specific measures used for this comparison were average life evaluation scores from the World Happiness report, the Human Development Index, and GNI per capita at purchasing power parity in current international dollars. This finding implies that moving to a happier or more developed country contributes more to happiness than migrating to a wealthier country. An illustrative example is the finding that Latin American migrants in Western countries gained relatively little happiness compared to other migrants from similarly wealthy but unhappier regions. Happiness levels of immigrants tend to converge close to the happiness levels of the host country’s native populations (Helliwell et al., 2018; Hendriks, 2015). Almost the full happiness gain from migration is achieved in the first few years after migration (Hendriks and Burger, 2020). Accordingly, various studies consistently show that migrants’ happiness does not substantially increase with their length of stay, and the second generation is not happier than their immigrant parents (Hendriks and Burger, 2020). Many immigrants perceive moving abroad to be an investment in their own (or their children’s) future. They expect their wellbeing to improve over time after overcoming initial hurdles, such as learning the host-country language and rebuilding their social lives which can take several years. Although, objectively speaking, the life conditions of most migrants moving to more developed countries improve over time, these people do not view their lives as improving. Why might this be? A prominent reason is that migrants gradually evaluate their conditions in the host country through an increasingly critical lens (Hendriks and Burger, 2020). As their stay progresses, newcomers grow accustomed to their typically better conditions, and begin to compare their situation more to that of the generally better-off native-born population and less to the inferior conditions in

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their origin country or from their past. These shifting frames of reference tend to increase their aspirations and expectations. Due to these increasing expectations and aspirations, their subjective gains will lag behind their objective gains in income, employment, health, and so forth. As a result, their happiness gains level off. Similarly, native-born children of immigrants have less-favourable perceptions of objectively similar conditions than their immigrant parents because they have never experienced, and hardly compare themselves to, the typically worse situations in the birth country of their parents.

THE IMPACT OF IMMIGRATION ON HOSTING POPULATIONS Empirical Evidence An emerging literature has considered the impact of immigration and diversity on native happiness. In the first study of its kind, Betz and Simpson (2013) find a positive, though marginal effect of immigration flows on the life satisfaction and overall happiness of native populations in 26 European countries within the period 2002‒2010 based on repeated cross-sectional data from the European Social Survey. This relationship was nonlinear, such that the impact was less positive for exceptionally low or high migrant inflows. O’Connor (2020) used repeated cross-sectional data from the Eurobarometer to explore the impact of immigration in 28 European Union countries over the years 1990‒2017 (EU12) and 2005‒2017 (new member states). He shows that there is no main effect of immigration on the life satisfaction of natives. This null result holds across population subgroups, including the poorly educated and elderly. Likewise, the null result holds regardless of whether or not immigrants were from the EU and whether they were voluntary migrants or refugees. Inspired by Brexit, various panel studies have been recently conducted for the United Kingdom (UK). Papageorgiou (2020) found non-negative (and in some specifications small positive) effects of the net-inflows of foreign-born individuals on overall happiness and life satisfaction across local areas in the UK in the period 2004‒2016. A negative effect was identified on the life satisfaction of the elderly (older than 70) and a small positive effect on the happiness of younger people (younger than 35). No statistically significant effects were identified in any other subgroups by gender, employment status, and marital status. Howley et al. (2020) also explored the impact of local-level immigration in the UK in the period 2000‒2017 but instead used the General Health Questionnaire as a broader measure of subjective wellbeing. They observed small negative effects overall of immigration on subjective wellbeing. They show that relatively older individuals, those with below-average household incomes, those who are unemployed and finally those without any

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formal educational qualifications experiencing much more substantive wellbeing losses than others. Focusing on the wave of 1.5 million workers relocating from Eastern Europe to the UK resulting from the 2004 European Union enlargement, Ivlevs and Veliziotis (2018) find no statistically significant relationship on average between local-level immigration of Eastern Europeans and natives’ life satisfaction in the United Kingdom for the period 2003‒2008. However, they did find considerable differences between subgroups consistent with the findings of Howley et al. (2020): higher levels of local immigration were associated with a decrease in life satisfaction among older, unemployed and lower-income people, and with an increase in life satisfaction among younger, employed, higher-income and better educated people. The observed wellbeing differentials are congruent with voting patterns observed in the UK Brexit vote. Focusing on the related concept of ethnic diversity, Longhi (2014) finds that white British people living in more diverse areas report lower levels of life satisfaction than their counterparts in more homogenous areas, while there is no relationship between diversity and life satisfaction for non-white British people and foreign born. For Germany, Akay et al. (2014) and Akay et al. (2017) found, using the German Socio-Economic Panel, a small positive impact of both local immigrant inflows and ethnic diversity on the life satisfaction of natives. These small positive effects were largely driven by those younger than 50 years old and the middle class as they found no significant relationship for those over 50 and the lowest and highest income quartile. In addition, ethnic diversity had a positive effect only for those with relatively open, agreeable, and conscientious personalities. Finally, the impact of ethnic diversity was more positive for ethnicities that are culturally and economically closer to Germany and for better assimilated immigrants. For the United States, Kuroki (2018) explored the relationship between ethnic diversity and life satisfaction at the country-level for the period 2005‒2010. This study shows that a 10 percentage-point increase in the percentage of the immigrant population (approximately 2 standard deviations) is associated with a reduction in life satisfaction of 0.009 and 0.021 points on a four-point scale for white men and white women, respectively. Consistent with the age pattern observed in Germany and the UK, the impact is more negative for older whites. In addition, a 10 percentage-point increase in the share of the non-white population (approximately one half of a standard deviation) is associated with a reduction in life satisfaction of 0.006 to 0.007 points for the white population in the United States. This negative association is mostly driven by the percentage of the population that is black. In sum, a consistent finding is that the impact of immigration on the happiness of hosting populations is small, and much smaller than would be expected based on the worries of many natives about the negative consequences of

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migration for their wellbeing. Hence, there is an inconsistency between how important immigration inflows and ethnic diversity are for happiness and the perception of people in, for instance, the European Union where immigration is believed to be one of the biggest societal issues (O’Connor, 2020). In some, but not all contexts, the impact is less positive (or more negative) for the elderly and economically deprived groups. In some contexts, the impact also varies with the ethnicity or origin of immigrants, but in others it does not (for example, O’Connor, 2020). Theoretical Explanations As for the impact of immigration on native’s happiness, there is little consensus about the overall economic impact of immigration on receiving countries. A small positive impact is generally found in Europe, while a small negative impact is found in the United States. Yet, inconsistencies also appear due to different empirical strategies (Dustmann et al., 2016). Immigration and ethnic diversity tends to have positive effects on innovation, the diversity of goods and services, aggregate demand, and the filling up of jobs that natives cannot do or are not willing to do. It seems that these advantages are largely offset by the crowding out of natives in the labour market and the increasing pressure on the social welfare system. Indeed, Akay et al. (2014; 2017) conclude that the effects of immigration and diversity on the local labour market and productivity do not appear to be an important channel in explaining the positive relationship between immigration and happiness in Germany. Howley et al. (2020) provide suggestive evidence that perceived as opposed to actual labour market competition and social identity are relevant channels for the negative wellbeing impacts of immigration for natives in the UK. Conversely, Papageorgiou (2020) provides suggestive evidence that higher job satisfaction and health satisfaction (reflecting better labour market and health outcomes) are two relevant mechanisms for the observed positive effects. O’Connor (2020) shows that the observed null-result in Europe does not change much when controlling for GDP per capita, suggesting that both the non-economic and economic results are not clearly positive or negative in Europe. Multiple other channels have remained unexplored in quantitative studies, such as the often envisioned potentially negative effects on social cohesion and congestion.

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THE IMPACT OF IMMIGRATION ON FAMILIES AND OTHERS STAYING BEHIND Empirical Evidence International migrants often have to leave family members behind. A common reason is to support, via remittances, the wellbeing of family members and others who remain in the less developed home country. For those left behind, this form of migration often results in significant economic gains and poverty alleviation, thereby stimulating better outcomes in other domains, such as better education and health outcomes (Antman, 2013). However, family separation also has various negative consequences for those staying behind. Notable drawbacks are impaired emotional support, psychological disconnection from the migrant, and a greater burden of responsibility for household chores and child nurturing. Other reasons are often at play in developed countries, such as career and education opportunities for the migrating individual. Various studies have explored how these advantages and disadvantages add up in terms of perceived wellbeing for those remaining behind. Hendriks et al. (2018a) and Ivlevs et al. (2019) offered a global perspective using Gallup World Poll data. These studies consistently showed that having family members abroad is associated with greater evaluative wellbeing and positive affect (happiness, enjoyment, and laughter), but also with more negative affect (worry, depression, sadness, and anger). Correspondingly, Cárdenas et al. (2009) showed that individuals having relatives or friends abroad, who they can count on, evaluate their lives more positively. People receiving remittances were the ones who benefited the most (Hendriks et al., 2018a; Ivlevs et al., 2019). However, even those receiving remittances experienced more stress and depression (two components of negative affect) than similar individuals who did not have one or multiple household members abroad (Ivlevs et al., 2019). These outcomes are, however, context-dependent; the frequency of experiencing negative affect remains constant for remittance-receiving Latin American individuals (Hendriks et al., 2018a). Given the greater benefits for those receiving remittances, it is not surprising that individuals in the developing world, with a household member living in Western countries, benefited the most, as well as poorer individuals within a certain country. There were, however, various migration flows in which no positive effects were observed, particularly short-distance migration flows, such as those moving within Western Europe or within Southeast Asia (Hendriks et al., 2018a). A plausible explanation is that these people often moved for reasons other than sending remittances or could send less remittances due to smaller pay gaps between host and home countries within world regions. Interestingly, reduced nega-

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tive affect experiences were not observed in any of the 21 explored regional migration flows in Hendriks et al. (2018a), which highlights that individuals left behind across the globe, generally cannot expect to benefit from migration in terms of experiences of negative affect. In addition, both, individuals with household members living permanently abroad and individuals with household members living temporarily abroad for work, reported higher life evaluations in an analysis of those remaining behind in countries of the former Soviet Union, Latin America, and the Caribbean (Hendriks et al., 2018a). However, more negative affect was only experienced by those with household members living temporarily abroad for work. A plausible reason that those with household members living permanently abroad experienced no more negative affect is a hedonic adaptation process. One caveat of the above studies is that the reported results represent the 15+ aged population, not children. Additional evidence comes from case studies of single communities in developing origin countries. Borraz et al. (2010) find no positive overall effect on life satisfaction among left-behind adult household members in an Ecuadorian community, arguing that the received remittances compensate for the social costs of family separation. Similarly, cases studies by Jones (2014; 2015) show that household members who stayed behind in some Mexican and Bolivian communities do not report higher family happiness than similar non-migrant households. However, the external validity of these findings is questionable because it is possible that these communities were not randomly selected, that is, these communities may be selected because they fared worse than others. Case studies focused on emotional wellbeing and mental health show mixed results. Negative effects were reported for left-behind Mexican women and caregivers in Southeast Asia, whilst left-behind families in Tonga and the elderly in Moldova were not significantly affected (Gibson et al., 2011; Böhme et al., 2015; Nobles et al., 2015). Although the above studies did not distinguish between positive and negative affect, the overall results (null or negative effects) are in line with the global observation that increases in positive affect are counterbalanced by increases in negative affect. Theoretical Explanations There is ample evidence that remittance receipt increases the happiness of those staying behind (for example, Joarder et al., 2017), although it is not associated with less stress and depression, that is, negative affect (Ivlevs et al., 2019). However, remittance receipt does not appear to be the only advantage of having a family abroad. For instance, Ivlevs et al. (2019) and Cárdenas et al. (2009) observe a positive effect of having a household member abroad on positive affect and life evaluations independent of remittance receipt or income. Plausible, but untested reasons, mentioned by the authors were that

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the left-behind may derive satisfaction and hope for their own futures from observing that migrants realize their potential abroad. Jones (2014; 2015) shows that the erosion of family values and family unity (social cohesion) are relevant negative channels, probably because it leads to more conflicts between household members. Various other drawbacks are highlighted in qualitative studies, such as changing responsibilities, loneliness, and so forth (Abrego, 2014). These channels have remained unexplored in quantitative studies on the consequences of having relatives abroad for happiness.

CONCLUSIONS The emerging literature on the happiness consequences of international migration suggests that international migration contributes to a happier world, with happiness gains in general for immigrants, positive effects on evaluative but not emotional wellbeing for families and others left behind, and non-negative effects for hosting populations. However, the outcomes are strongly context-dependent. For instance, negative effects have been reported for the elderly and economically deprived groups in some hosting countries (for example, the United Kingdom), for some groups of migrants moving to less developed countries, and for some of the studied local communities in various countries. Nevertheless, the prevalent and vast concerns in immigrant-receiving countries, about migration, are not in line with the small (and often non-negative) effects of immigration on societal happiness, even if some natives do experience substantial negative effects. Based on the current evidence, some tentative policy recommendations could be given. First, opening or closing country borders appears to have no major impact on the happiness of hosting populations. However, to the extent that other concerns are balanced, more open borders could potentially provide a major opportunity to improve happiness across the globe because of its positive impact on the happiness of immigrants and their families staying behind. Second, there is, nevertheless, a significant group of immigrants who do not become happier (or even become unhappier) through migration. Prospective immigrants could benefit from support in developing realistic expectations of migration to avoid such negative outcomes. For instance, policymakers could work closely together with immigrant communities to communicate information to immigrants about life in the host country (Hendriks et al., 2018b). Third, the observations that immigrants do not become happier with increased length of stay in the host country signal the inefficiency of current integration policies and emphasize the need for the development of a new integration framework containing the features of integration policy that are important for immigrant happiness. Fourth, increasing the happiness of immigrants can be a fruitful way to enhance the benefits of immigration for the host society, since

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happiness has proven to be a key driver of economic, social, and health advantages, such as greater productivity and more openness toward other cultures (De Neve et al., 2013). Hence, policies that contribute to migrant happiness may create a win–win situation for both immigrants and natives.

REFERENCES Abrego, L. (2014), Sacrificing Families: Navigating Laws, Labor, and Love across Borders, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Akay, A., A. Constant and C. Giulietti (2014), ‘The impact of immigration on the well-being of natives’, Journal of Economic Behavior & Organization, 103, 72–92. Akay, A., A. Constant, C. Giulietti and M. Guzi (2017), ‘Ethnic diversity and well-being’, Journal of Population Economics, 30 (1), 265–306. Antman, F. (2013), ‘The impact of migration on family left behind’, in A.F. Constant and K.F. Zimmermann (eds), International Handbook on the Economics of Migration, Cheltenham, UK and Northampton, MA, USA: Edward Elgar Publishing, pp. 293–308. Bartram, D. (2011), ‘Economic migration and happiness: Comparing immigrants’ and natives’ happiness gains from income’, Social Indicators Research, 103 (1), 57–76. Bartram, D. (2015), ‘Inverting the logic of economic migration: Happiness among migrants moving from wealthier to poorer countries in Europe’, Journal of Happiness Studies, 16 (5), 1211–1230. Benjamin, D.J., O. Heffetz, M.S. Kimball and A. Rees-Jones (2014), ‘Can marginal rates of substitution be inferred from happiness data? Evidence from residency choices’, The American Economic Review, 104 (11), 3498–3528. Betz, W. and N.B. Simpson (2013), ‘The effects of international migration on the well-being of native populations in Europe’, IZA Journal of Migration, 2 (1), 12. Böhme, M.H., R. Persian and T. Stöhr (2015), ‘Alone but better off? Adult child migration and health of elderly parents in Moldova’, Journal of Health Economics, 39, 211‒227. Borraz, F., S. Pozo and M. Rossi (2010), ‘And what about the family back home? International migration and happiness in Cuenca, Ecuador’, Journal of Business Strategies, 27 (1), 7–27. Cárdenas, M., V. Di Maro and I. Sorkin (2009), ‘Migration and life satisfaction: Evidence from Latin America’, Journal of Business Strategies, 26 (1), 9–33. De Neve, J.-E., E. Diener, L. Tay and C. Xuereb (2013), ‘The objective benefits of subjective well-being’, in J.F. Helliwell, R. Layard and J. Sachs (eds), World Happiness Report 2013, New York, USA: UN SDSN, pp. 54–74. Dustmann, C., U. Schönberg and J. Stuhler (2016), ‘The impact of immigration: Why do studies reach such different results?’, Journal of Economic Perspectives, 30 (4), 31–56. Esipova, N., J. Ray and A. Pugliese (2017), ‘Number of potential migrants worldwide tops 700 million’, accessed 2 October 2019 at www​news​.gallup​.com/​poll/​211883/​ number​-potentialmigrants​-worldwide​-tops​-700​-million​ htm. Gibson, J., D. McKenzie and S. Stillman (2011), ‘The impacts of international migration on remaining household members: Omnibus results from a migration lottery program’, Review of Economics and Statistics, 93 (4), 1297–1318.

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Graham, C. and M. Nikolova (2018), ‘Happiness and international migration in Latin America’, in J.F. Helliwell, R. Layard and J. Sachs (eds), World Happiness Report 2018, New York, USA: UN SDSN, pp. 89–114. Helliwell, J.F., H. Huang, S. Wang and H. Shiplett (2018), ‘International migration and world happiness’, in J.F. Helliwell, R. Layard and J. Sachs (eds), World Happiness Report 2018, New York, USA: UN SDSN, pp. 13–44. Hendriks, M. (2015), ‘The happiness of international migrants: A review of research findings’, Migration Studies, 3 (3), 343–369. Hendriks, M. (2018), ‘Does migration increase happiness? It depends’. Migration Policy Institute, 21 June, accessed 3 February 2020 at https://​www​.migrationpolicy​ .org/​article/​does​-migration​-increase​-happiness​-it​-depends. Hendriks, M. and D. Bartram (2016), ‘Macro-conditions and immigrants’ happiness: Is moving to a wealthy country all that matters?’, Social Science Research, 56, 90–107. Hendriks, M. and D. Bartram (2019), ‘Bringing happiness into the study of migration and its consequences: What, why, and how?’, Journal of Immigrant & Refugee Studies, 17 (3), 279–298. Hendriks, M. and M. Burger (2020), ‘Unsuccessful subjective well-being assimilation among immigrants: The role of faltering perceptions of the host society’, Journal of Happiness Studies, 21, 1985‒2006. Hendriks, M., M. Burger, J. Ray and N. Esipova (2018a), ‘Do international migrants increase their happiness and that of their families by migrating’, in J.F. Helliwell, R. Layard and J. Sachs (eds), World Happiness Report 2018, New York, USA: UN SDSN, pp. 44–65. Hendriks, M., K. Ludwigs and D. Bartram (2018b), ‘International migration decisions and happiness: The Migration Happiness Atlas as a community development initiative’, in S. Kenny, B. McGrath and R. Phillips (eds), The Routledge Handbook of Community Development: Perspectives from Around the Globe, New York, USA: Routledge, Chapter 21. Howley, P., M. Waqas, M. Moro, L. Delaney and T. Heron (2020), ‘It’s not all about the economy stupid! Immigration and subjective well-being in England’, Work, Employment and Society, 34 (5), 919‒936. International Organization for Migration (IOM) (2013), World Migration Report 2013: Migrant Well-Being and Development, Geneva, Switzerland: IOM. International Organization for Migration (IOM (2015), The Other Migrant Crisis – Protecting Migrant Workers against Exploitation in the Middle East and North Africa, Geneva: IOM. Ivlevs, A., M. Nikolova and C. Graham (2019), ‘Emigration, remittances, and the subjective well-being of those staying behind’, Journal of Population Economics, 32 (1), 113–151. Ivlevs, A. and M. Veliziotis (2018), ‘Local-level immigration and life satisfaction: The EU enlargement experience in England and Wales’, Environment and Planning A: Economy and Space, 50 (1), 175–193. Joarder, M.A.M., M. Harris and A.M. Dockery (2017), ‘Remittances and happiness of migrants and their home households: Evidence using matched samples’, The Journal of Development Studies, 53 (3), 422–443. Jones, R. (2014), ‘Migration and family happiness in Bolivia: Does social disintegration negate economic well-being?’, International Migration, 52 (3), 177–193. Jones, R. (2015), ‘Migration pessimism and the subjective well-being of migrant households in Mexico’, Bulletin of Latin American Research, 34 (3), 305–323.

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Kuroki, M. (2018), ‘Racial diversity, immigrants and the well-being of residents: Evidence from US counties’, Journal of Population Economics, 31 (1), 107–133. Longhi, S. (2014), ‘Cultural diversity and subjective well-being’, IZA Journal of Migration, 3 (1), 13. Nobles, J., L. Rubalcava and G. Teruel (2015), ‘After spouses depart: Emotional wellbeing among nonmigrant Mexican mothers’, Social Science & Medicine, 132, 236–244. O’Connor, K.J. (2020), ‘The effect of immigration on natives’ well-being in the European Union’, GLO Discussion Paper (No. 352). OECD (2013), OECD Guidelines on Measuring Subjective Well-being, Paris, France: OECD Publishing. Papageorgiou, A. (2020), ‘The effect of immigration on the well-being of native populations: Evidence from the United Kingdom’, MPRA Paper No. 93045. Rojas, M. (2018), ‘Happiness in Latin America has social foundations’, in J.F. Helliwell, R. Layard and J. Sachs (eds), World Happiness Report 2018, New York, USA: UN SDSN, pp. 115–145. Stillman, S., J. Gibson, J. McKenzie and J. Rohorua (2015), ‘Miserable migrants? Natural experiment evidence on international migration and objective and subjective well-being’, World Development, 65, 79–93. United Nations, Department of Economic and Social Affairs (UN DESA) (2015), Trends in International Migrant Stock: Migrants by Destination and Origin, United Nations database, POP/DB/MIG/Stock/Rev.2015.

16. Human wellbeing in environmental management Kelly Biedenweg and David J Trimbach INTRODUCTION Human wellbeing is directly linked to the health of the natural environment (Berkes et al., 2003; Liu et al., 2007; Biedenweg et al., 2017). Human physical health depends on fresh air and clean drinking water. Economic prosperity for many depends on the ability to extract natural resources, whilst socio-cultural cohesion often depends on access to healthy ecosystems. The field of environmental management was developed to manage these natural resources for their myriad human benefits, emphasizing the sustainable use of air, land, forests, minerals, water, fisheries and wildlife (Muralikrishna and Manickam, 2017). Yet, until recently, environmental managers have had limited, to no, expertise in understanding whether their programmes were truly addressing the human causes and consequences of environmental health. Rather, they have focused solely on monitoring and directly influencing biophysical processes. Contemporary approaches to environmental management have adopted a more progressive worldview that social systems are inextricably linked to ecosystems – that human systems both influence and are influenced by the natural environment (Collins et al., 2011). Without identifying and evaluating how human wellbeing is related to ecosystem health in each management context, therefore, environmental management strategies may not address critical pressures and desired outcomes. The global conversation around integrating human wellbeing and environment management stems largely from the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment [MA], an effort by over 2,000 authors and reviewers to characterize and classify the status of the world’s ecosystems (MA, 2005). In this framework, a healthy ecosystem was defined as one that contributes to a multi-dimensional conceptualization of human wellbeing that includes security, basic material for a good life, health, good social relations and freedom of choice and action. In illuminating this link, the authors set forth a global pathway to justify the integration of human wellbeing in environmental management. 247

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Yet the conceptualization of human wellbeing is not singular (Alexandrova, 2014; Scott, 2012). Within economics, at least two traditions have developed their own conceptualizations: preference maximization perspectives consider wellbeing to be attained when humans meet their preferences whereas capabilities perspectives consider that having many opportunities available in a myriad of arrangements, whether they form part of one’s preferences or not, is the core of wellbeing. Within psychology, at least three traditions hold unique definitions of human wellbeing: hedonists define it as regularly experiencing a happy mental state, subjectivists define it as having one’s desires fulfilled, and eudaimonists as living in accordance with one’s own nature. Furthermore, public health scientists consider human wellbeing through standard health metrics, such as obesity and depression rates, as well as access to clear air and drinking water. Since human wellbeing connects to the natural environment in so many ways, its integration in environmental management can be guided by many objectives and worldviews. Almost 15 years since the publication of the MA, there has been substantive growth in the consideration of human wellbeing by environment managers. The theoretical and sometimes methodological foundation of the trend has differed based on the initial goals of integration (such as for environmental justice, for more effective environmental management strategies or for improving public health). This chapter describes dominant philosophical paradigms in these three trajectories, providing case studies in which human wellbeing has been integrated in environmental management for each pathway (Table 16.1). Our first case study focuses on Ecuador’s buen vivir, which highlights the application of the capabilities approach to biological conservation. Our second case study illustrates an ecosystem services approach for collaborative ecosystem restoration of Puget Sound in Washington State (US). Our third case study emphasizes linking healthy human populations and healthy ecosystems as a response to the western Public Health and Environmental Management institutions. Through these case studies, we outline three dominant paradigms of human wellbeing integration into environment management and illustrate the power of wellbeing to inform more inclusive, equitable, and effective stewardship of the natural environment that recognizes and foregrounds the importance of people-place relationships to social-ecological wellbeing.

DEVELOPMENT AND TROPICAL CONSERVATION: THE CASE OF BUEN VIVIR it [economics] treats nature as an infinite supply of physical resources to be used for human benefit, and as an infinite sink for the by-products of the consumption of these benefits. (Colby, 1991, p. 195)

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Table 16.1

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Table summarizing case studies in this chapter

Case Study Ecuador’s Buen Vivir

Academic and Practitioner

Primary Conceptualization of

Tradition(s) for integration

Wellbeing

Environmental Conservation

Capabilities

and Development Environmental Restoration in the

Ecosystem Services and

Subjective wellbeing and

Puget Sound

Social-ecological Systems

indicators of ecosystem services

South Australia Healthy Parks

Public Health and Leisure

Healthy People

Studies

outcomes Biophysical indicators of health

Development and biological conservation have a complex relationship (Sutcliff, [2000] 1995; Soulé, 2013). Both invoke advancement, progress and gain; however, development emphasizes a coordinated change towards social improvement while biological conservation focuses on the protection of biodiversity. Although both share underlying motivations, the overemphasis on economic growth within development is often seen as running counter to environmental protection or management goals (Sutcliff, 2000 [1995]). Meanwhile, certain forms of conservation have been found to exacerbate poverty and inequality (Brockington and Wilkie, 2015). These critiques are not new (Colby, 1989, 1991), but with the MA’s publication (MA, 2005), human wellbeing, notably through the capabilities approach [CA], has emerged as integral to development-conservation convergence (Sen, 2003). Using Ecuador’s buen vivir as a case study, we highlight the evolution and contemporary application of CA as a component of human wellbeing in international conservation and development. Theories and Frameworks of Conservation and Development Development is traditionally equated with modernization, which posits that modernity (or development) can be achieved through progressive stages from more traditional to more modern (Rostow, 1960). Modernity is achievable via economic growth, as observed through gross domestic product [GDP], gross national product [GNP], gross national income [GNI] or other economic measures (Dasgupta, 2001; Ghatak, 2018). Modernity via economic growth theoretically increases human wellbeing through poverty reduction; however, major critiques of modernization, specifically dependency and world systems theories [WST], challenge this view (Wallerstein, 1987; Roberts and Hite, 2000). While different, both theories recognize that the wealth and modernity of some countries (for example those in the Global North) is directly linked to the poverty and lack of development of others (for example those in the Global

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South), often as a result of post-/neo-colonial ties and integration into the capitalist world economy (Wallerstein, 1987; Hoogvelt, 2001). Modernization’s unevenness also impacts natural environments, as the environment is viewed ‘as an infinite supply of physical resources to be used for human benefit, and as an infinite sink for the by-products of the consumption of these benefits’ (Colby, 1991, p. 195). Consumption leads to environmental degradation, which in turn leads to the need for conservation efforts. These include the dramatic increase in protected areas [PAs], exclusive areas designed to protect wildlife, habitats, landscapes and resources (Adams and Hutton, 2007). These high-conservation areas are designated as off limits to any human use, often displacing nearby communities from the only livelihoods and cultural practices they knew and/or increasing their negative interactions with dangerous and destructive wildlife. As with the paradigm of modernization, conservation through PAs was a strategy imported from countries in the Global North, leaving a perception of continued colonialism that undervalued individuals and local culture. This emphasis on PAs led to the people vs. parks debate: whether conservation efforts should prioritize landscapes and biodiversity, or human welfare and poverty reduction (Minteer and Miller, 2011). New approaches, including CA, sought to balance these objectives (Pieterse, 2010). CA has become the dominant way of thinking about wellbeing in development. It conceptualizes human wellbeing as a set of functionings (‘doings and beings’ of human life), that provide people with capabilities or freedoms to make choices that enrich their lives (Sen, 2003, p. 4). CA’s dominance is evidenced in the UN Development Program’s Human Development Index (1990), Inequality-adjusted Human Development Index (2010) and annual Human Development Reports that integrate social and ecological measures. Development is defined in this documents as ‘the enlargement of people’s choices’, reflecting a shift away from a growth-centred to a wellbeing-centred approach (Pieterse, 2010, p. 7). CA’s application within development has coincided with human wellbeing efforts within conservation (Table 16.2) (Basiago, 1999; Haque, 1999; Du Pisani, 2006; Blom et al., 2010). While different, these efforts have sought to better integrate environmental protection and human wellbeing, making CA increasingly more attractive to conservation. While limited in its application thus far, scholars have integrated CA into the study of environmental governance (Bockstael and Berkes, 2017) and sustainability (Peeters et al., 2015). These efforts envision CA’s application as addressing economic poverty, individual empowerment and environment access/use, which in turn can achieve both conservation and development goals. One example of CA’s contribution to conservation and development is Ecuador’s buen vivir.

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Table 16.2

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Table summarizing conservation efforts that reflect human interactions or wellbeing

Conservation Effort

Brief Description

Protected areas [PAs]

Exclusive areas designed to protect wildlife, habitats, landscapes, and resources from human use or consumption

Agenda 21

Popularized the concept of sustainable development and foregrounds wellbeing

Integrated Conservation and

Development projects that offer alternative employment

Development Projects [ICDPs]

opportunities to local communities displaced or impacted by conservation activities

Payments for environmental services

Programmes that offer incentives to land-users to protect or

[PES]

encourage the provision of environmental or ecological services (benefits derived from nature)

Reducing emissions from deforestation

Programmes that offer incentives to reduce deforestation and

and forest degradation [REDD]

improve sustainable forest management practices; includes links to carbon offsets and credits

Millennium Ecosystem Assessment

International assessment of the impacts of ecosystem change

[MA]

on human wellbeing and the actions necessary to enhance conservation and sustainability to contribute human wellbeing

Wellbeing-Centred Conservation and Development: Buen Vivir in Ecuador Buen vivir is considered a post-growth development alternative that literally means ‘good life’, ‘good living’, and/or human wellbeing. Unlike other normative conceptualizations of human wellbeing, however, buen vivir emphasizes the importance of the social-ecological community and collective wellbeing (Gudynas, 2015). This human-natural inclusivity reflects buen vivir’s links to indigenous notions, including sumak kawsay (in Quechua – there is no exact translation into English or Spanish; however, it has been equated with good living, living well, and life of fullness or plenitude (Villalba, 2013)), which captures a distinct worldview of wellbeing as achieved through material and non-material means, including social and ecological community relationships (Vanhulst and Beling, 2014; Gudynas, 2015). According to Gudynas (2015), a leading buen vivir scholar, there are three overlapping conceptualizations of buen vivir: (1) a broad critique of conventional development; (2) a narrowed critique of development that is post-capitalist and growth-critical; and (3) a comprehensive radical critique of all development paradigms and a set of plural indigenously-derived alternatives that is post-capitalist, post-socialist and non-western.

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Buen vivir emerged as an alternative following decades of conventional development failures. These failures caused economic vulnerability, environmental degradation, land dispossession, increases in socio-economic inequality and conflict (Hollender, 2015). Buen Vivir recreated and reimagined development based on human-nature interrelationships and not economic growth (Osborne et al., 2014). Buen vivir’s emphasis on the collective, community and/or social group helped reconcile some critiques of CA’s overemphasis on the individual, specifically in reference to capabilities (Scarlato, 2013; Sikkema, 2018). Buen vivir is multi-dimensional, embodying a plurality of conceptualizations and applications that continue to evolve as a legal, policy and planning framework that reimagines development as human wellbeing-centred. Under the leadership of President Rafael Correa (2007‒2017), Ecuador adopted a new voter-approved constitution in 2008 that embeds buen vivir into Ecuador’s legal, development and conservation landscape (Merino, 2016). Constitutionally, buen vivir is conceptualized as a set of rights and mechanisms to achieve or exercise those rights (Scarlato, 2013; Merino, 2016). Rights to water, food and nutrition, healthy environment, education, work, habitat or housing, cultural identity, recreation, and scientific benefits, among others, were included (Kauffman and Martin, 2014; Merino, 2016). Buen vivir is supported by other rights including indigenous rights and the rights of nature. The latter treats nature as an equal subject with formal rights, rather than an object to be used or exploited (Kauffman and Martin, 2014; Piertari, 2016). Buen vivir integrates citizen participation to inform Ecuador’s Ministry of Planning and Development, national development plans (National Development Plan, 2009‒2013) (Box 16.1) and overarching environmental governance model (Kauffman and Martin, 2014). Planning documents based on buen vivir have stressed: dismantling past neoliberal development efforts; decreasing consumption; prioritizing small-scale local production and food security; legally protecting the environment; respecting local knowledge, values, and culture; guaranteeing rights, justice, and civic participation; providing equitable environment access; and enlarging human capabilities (Scarlato, 2013; Villalba, 2013; Kauffman and Martin, 2014).

BOX 16.1 ENDOGENOUS STRATEGY FOR GOOD LIVING The endogenous strategy for Good Living requires developing societal capabilities and opportunities through the creation of value to satisfy society’s own needs, as expressed by internal demand. (Republic of Ecuador 2010, p. 110)

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Highlighted by its expansion across South and Central America, buen vivir reimagines the development–conservation nexus as a human wellbeing-centred alternative. It blends indigenous and non-indigenous understandings of what constitutes an enriched life. As such, buen vivir, like conventional CA, further cements a conceptual turn for development beyond economic growth by emphasizing human-environment interdependence.

ECOSYSTEM SERVICES DRIVING ENVIRONMENTAL RESTORATION: THE PUGET SOUND What makes ecological restoration uniquely valuable is its inherent capacity to provide people with the opportunity not only to repair ecological damage, but also to improve the human condition. (Gann and Lamb, 2006, p. 1)

In places with already degraded environments, support for ecosystem restoration has often been motivated by the value that healthy ecosystems contribute to human wellbeing. This framing of human wellbeing is encompassed in the concept of ecosystem services. Many environmental management agencies claim that a focus on ecosystem services will result in more relevant management plans and increased compliance with environmental management recommendations (Ban et al., 2013). In fact, influential agencies such as the US Environmental Protection Agency and the United Nations Environment Program have mission statements to protect and restore the natural environment with the explicit purpose of enhancing, or not hindering, human wellbeing and quality of life (US EPA, 2018; UNEP, n.d.). These dual goals lay the foundation for integrated ecosystem restoration processes (Gann and Lamb, 2006; Abelson et al., 2016). As such, the inclusion of human wellbeing in these contexts is less about creating more culturally just development, as with the buen vivir example, and more about effectively managing complex natural environments that are influenced by human actions (Gann and Lamb, 2006). Theories and Frameworks in Ecosystem Service Integration Since the 1990s, the field of ecological economics has driven the theoretical and methodological approaches for linking social and ecological goals in environmental management through ecosystem services (Daily, 1997). Dissatisfied with the ability of common metrics such as GDP to represent the invisible costs associated with degrading environments, ecological economists began to assess the value of environments according to their contribution to supporting, provisioning and regulating ecosystem services (Costanza et al., 1997). In conventional economics, acres of forest were not considered part of a country’s GDP until they were harvested and the timber was sold. An

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ecological economic assessment, however, attributes worth to the forest due to its ability to mitigate climate changes, regulate floods and purify water. These ecosystem services in turn provide a value to humans and thus enhance human wellbeing (MA, 2005). The ecosystem services perspective is clearly biased towards accounting for positive interactions between humans and the environment – highlighting the ways that natural processes contribute to human wellbeing (such as through provisioning drinking water), rather than the ways that the natural world can hurt humans (such as through dangerous wildlife interactions). The ecosystem services concept has received criticism for these biases, as well as its emphasis on placing value (usually monetary) on tangible items, when many of the things that contribute to human wellbeing are intangible and/or should not be monetized due to ethical considerations (Chan et al., 2012; Breslow et al., 2016). While the ecosystem services concept developed, environmental planners and ecologists simultaneously explored causal, linear conceptual models of social and ecological interactions (Breslow et al., 2016). The most common of these is the Driver-Pressure-Stressor-Impact-Response [DPSIR] model. DPSIR identifies humans as negative actors on the natural environment and human wellbeing as an outcome of effective ecosystem protection, making the role of humans apparently passive in environmental management (Wolanski and Elliott, 2015; Yee et al., 2012). This linear pathway largely informed the framework presented in the MA (2005) and contrasts the more recent Social Ecological Systems [SES] framing. SES is a framework for understanding environmental management that better incorporates human wellbeing as both a contributor to and beneficiary of healthy ecosystems. Originally developed to describe the factors affecting collective environmental management, the SES framework was refined throughout the early 2000s to better diagnose sustainable social-ecological systems (Partelow, 2018). SES researchers believe that ‘delineation between society and the environment [is] artificial and arbitrary’ (Guerrero et al., 2018, p. 1) and that the SES framework ‘recognizes the connections and feedbacks linking human and natural systems’ (Leslie et al., 2015, p. 5979). This inherent integration allows researchers and managers to more explicitly consider trade-offs and identify compromises between ecological and social components of a system (Ban et al., 2013, p. 194). In this framework, ecosystem services are perceived as a mediating construct linking biophysical attributes to human wellbeing and influencing how people interact with ecosystems (Collins et al., 2011). Because of the importance of human wellbeing in justifying ecosystem recovery, many natural resource agencies have recently identified relevant indicators of human wellbeing as part of their ecosystem planning and monitoring programmes (Leisher et al., 2013; Biedenweg et al., 2017; Breslow et

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al., 2016; Donatuto et al., 2011; Scott, 2012). While such efforts often adopt existing national and international standards for economic (such as jobs) and physical (such as drinking water pollution) wellbeing, some, like the Puget Sound Partnership, have launched specific efforts to identify more holistic, regionally appropriate metrics of human wellbeing. Ecosystem Services and Human Wellbeing Monitoring in the Puget Sound The Puget Sound basin lies in the northwestern United States of America. With 213.43 km of coastline and home to almost five million people, it is a large and diverse social-ecological system (Rice et al., 2015). The basin includes mountain ranges peaking at over 4,000 metres, high value Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) forests, agricultural valleys, large urban centres (including Seattle and Tacoma), over twenty federally recognized tribal nations, and productive coasts where shellfish, salmon and orca whales thrive. Yet this ecosystem is said to be ‘dying the death of a thousand cuts’ (Thompson and Scigliano, 2003, p. 104) due to rapid population growth and its correlative shoreline development, increase in impervious surfaces and diversity of extractive uses. In 2008, a Washington state agency, the Puget Sound Partnership [Partnership], was created to coordinate ecosystem recovery efforts. The Partnership’s mandate included six social and ecological goals: protect species and food webs; habitat; water quality; water quantity; human populations; and human quality of life. The mandate also required that the agency develop indicators (called Vital Signs) to monitor, communicate and highlight how restoration strategies met these goals (Figure 16.1). The first Vital Signs to be developed addressed biophysical attributes of the ecosystem, such as endangered Chinook salmon and Southern Resident Killer Whales (orcas), marine water quality and freshwater flows, and shoreline armouring and onsite sewage systems. These Vital Signs were easy to monitor because they had numeric metrics with target magnitudes to be reached by 2020. Yet even after four years of creating the Partnership, the agency still had not identified Vital Sign indicators that measured the goals of human health and wellbeing. The Partnership’s attention to strictly biophysical indicators stemmed from the prevailing DPSIR model that staff and partners held when conceptualizing the ecosystem. Since human wellbeing was considered a passive outcome of improving ecosystem services, most scientists and planners assumed that by monitoring the ecosystem component they were addressing the two social objectives. A handful of social-science trained staff and partners recognized that this framing limited the suite of restoration options the Partnership considered, and that the more comprehensive perspective of SESs would greatly benefit the conversation and restoration strategy development. They

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Source Puget Sound Partnership (www​.psp​.wa​.gov).

Figure 16.1

Vital signs wheel for monitoring biophysical and human wellbeing goals in Puget Sound restoration

created an Integrated Conceptual Model for Ecosystem Recovery that outlined and justified the myriad reasons for directly considering human wellbeing as an objective, rather than simply the outcome of biophysical restoration (Biedenweg et al., 2017) (Figure 16.2). This model mimicked ones published in the academic literature (such as Collins et al., 2011) but was specific to the region in its examples. With this Puget Sound specific SES model as a foundation, it became clearer that the region needed explicit human wellbeing indicators to both guide creative strategy development that would mitigate existing pressures and to monitor the social impact of restoration activities. The lead author of

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Source Biedenweg et al. (2017).

Figure 16.2

Social ecological conceptual model of Puget Sound restoration

this chapter implemented a participatory research process with Partnership staff to develop these indicators (Biedenweg, 2016). The process resulted in the adoption of eight new human health and quality of life Vital Signs: Air Quality, Drinking Water, Local Foods, Outdoor Activity, Cultural Wellbeing, Economic Vitality, Sense of Place and Good Governance (Stiles et al., 2015). Due to the structure of the Vital Signs reporting system, the indicators for each of these were measured with quantitative metrics. This made sense for Air Quality and Drinking Water, which both have set federal standards for maximum acceptable contamination levels. However, quantitative indicators of the more qualitative attributes of human wellbeing, such as Sense of Place, could inadequately capture the status of these Vital Signs. That said, the ability to represent the trends of these diverse attributes of human wellbeing as related to Puget Sound ecosystem restoration received substantial support from the community and policymakers. Managers now had ways to communicate the importance of restoration strategies that better align with what residents care about. They were able to make better strategic decisions that incorporate

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considerations of social and ecological trade-offs. And their evaluation of ecosystem restoration strategies could address the remaining two of the six state mandated goals: human health and human wellbeing.

PUBLIC HEALTH AND GREEN SPACES: HEALTHY PARKS, HEALTHY PEOPLE INITIATIVES Research and teaching in environmental health have centred on hazardous effects of environmental exposures…However, some kinds of environmental exposures may have positive effects. (Frumkin, 2001, p. 234)

The World Health Organization in 1950 defined health as ‘a state of complete physical, mental, and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity’ (National Academies of Sciences, 2001, p. 11). When this definition was developed, the subfield of environmental health did not yet exist. This changed in the late 1900s, after the publication of Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring in 1962 and the Cuyahoga River fire of 1969 in the USA stimulated recognition that human actions were negatively impacting natural environments, and the degraded environment in turn affected human health. Sweeping international policies arose to regulate human actions, especially in reference to drinking water and air quality (National Academies of Sciences, 2001). In the USA, the regulation and enforcement of these policies was placed in environmental protection agencies that were dominated by natural scientists who had limited understanding of the motivations for human behaviours (Kotchian, 1997). While public health agencies focused on epidemiology and medical practices, environmental protection agencies regulated human interactions with nature to protect ecological health. A recent paradigm shift, however, has linked environmental and public health agencies to embrace public interaction with healthy natural environments as a ‘treatment’ that would both enhance human wellbeing and motivate environmental protection (Hartig et al., 2014; Frumkin et al., 2017). Frameworks of Public and Environmental Health Public health as an institution did not formally exist in the USA and England until the late nineteenth century, when federal, and eventually state agencies, focused on communicable disease vaccinations, provision of water and sewer services, food protection legislation, and housing reform (Kotchian, 1997; Institute of Medicine, 1988). These early years of public health focused on protecting people from negative interactions with the environment, perceiving it as a source of infectious disease, extreme weather, and geological events that sicken and kill people (Hartig et al., 2014). Environmental health emerged as

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a subfield of public health in the late twentieth century specifically to protect ‘against environmental factors that may adversely impact human health or the ecological balances essential to long term human health and environmental quality, whether in the natural or human-made environment’ (Gordon, 1993, p. 28). According to Frumkin (2001), these efforts demonstrate a framework of public health that prioritized healing an ailing body over enabling the conditions for humans to thrive in the first place (Frumkin, 2001). In the twenty-first century, however, there was an exponential increase in the number of peer-reviewed publications devoted to identifying, measuring, and understanding the positive links between human health and the natural environment (Hartig et al., 2014). This growing interest in re-uniting public and environmental health was attributed to various factors, including an ‘epidemiologic transition to chronic, lifestyle-related diseases as the major causes of mortality’ that identified biopsychosocial factors as more predictive than biomedical factors (Hartig et al., 2014, p. 209). For example, sedentary, urban lifestyles increasingly removed people from natural opportunities for physical activity, leading to obesity. The growing knowledge of public health benefits associated with contact with the natural environment have been summarized in a handful of review papers (Maller et al., 2005; Bowler et al., 2010; Hartig et al., 2014; Kuo, 2015; Seymour, 2016; and see Gittins et al., Chapter 13 this volume) and agency efforts (for example, the US Environmental Protection Agency’s EnviroAtlas). Contact with the natural environment can reduce stress, anxiety, depression, aggression, ADHD, blood pressure, obesity, diabetes, and mortality; and improve sleep, happiness, postoperative recovery, birth outcomes, congestive heart failure, child development, and pain control, among many other factors (Frumkin et al., 2017). While this new ‘environment-positive’ paradigm in public health has identified correlative relationships between outdoor exposure and health indicators, scientists are not sure of the mechanisms by which nature benefits these health outcomes, nor the magnitude and dosage of outdoor contact required. Moreover, scientists and public health officials are not sure how to guarantee that people will adopt proposed nature-based interventions (Frumkin et al., 2017). Nevertheless, public health professionals ultimately believe that achieving the benefits of outdoor engagement depends on people adopting new behaviours. One of these is simply to spend time in outdoor parks. Healthy Parks, Healthy People, South Australia Healthy Parks, Healthy People [HPHP] programmes aim to meet the diversity of government priorities (such as tourism, health costs, climate change impacts, and childhood development) through investment in park accessibility,

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use and the communication of health benefits associated with outdoor activity. Unlike the Puget Sound Partnership example, where the coordinating agency had a mandate to reverse and prevent environmental degradation, the HPHP programme in South Australia is a joint strategy between the Ministries of Health and Sustainability, Environment and Conservation as a ‘nature-based approach for population health’ (Government of South Australia, 2016). This initiative found its philosophical home in the outdoor recreation and leisure literature as compared to the social-ecological system literature of the Partnership and the development literature of buen vivir. Proponents of the approach referenced that contact with nature reduces diabetes, heart disease, mental health issues, obesity and vitamin D deficiencies, among other public health outcomes (Government of South Australia, 2016; Maller et al., 2005; Schmalz et al., 2013). They also identified the multiple benefits of partnering two types of agencies: those tasked with conserving the natural environment (parks) and those with ensuring public health (health). Initially developed in 1999 by Australia’s Parks Victoria, the HPHP programme focused on building collaborative efforts between parks and health agencies, researching the benefits of nature contact in parks and sharing information through numerous publications and international congresses (Romagosa et al., 2015). Although it was initiated by an environmental protection agency, the dominant language in HPHP programmes was associated with individual and community health benefits. In its 2016 framework, the South Australia HPHP initiative defined its priorities as promoting physical activity in nature, increasing understanding of the natural environment’s contribution to aboriginal health and wellbeing, mitigating potential human impacts of climate change, encouraging nature benefits on childhood development, investing in green infrastructure in urban settings and contributing to biodiversity conservation (Government of South Australia, 2016) (Box 16.2).

BOX 16.2 SEVEN PILLARS OF HEALTHY PARKS, HEALTHY PEOPLE IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA • Promoting physical activity in nature • Mental health benefits and contact with nature • Promoting the cultural value of country for Aboriginal health and wellbeing • Community health and wellbeing in a changing climate • Childhood development in nature • Green infrastructure in urban settings • Biodiversity, conservation, and human health

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The designers of HPHP acknowledged that public health concerns required integrated strategies to address the multifaceted causes of chronic disease plaguing industrialized countries (Senior and Townsend, 2005; Maller et al., 2005). In their perspective, national and state-supported nature-based efforts were the primary option to tackle the diverse factors influencing public health: sedentary lifestyles, aging populations, declining social capital and increased gaps in access to resources across socio-economic groups. The national and state-sponsored aspect was crucial, as coordinated approaches in public management agencies had historically been rare, a pattern not unique to Australia. The Australian initiative started a wave of similar efforts globally, including Healthy By Nature in Canada (2006); Healthy Parks, Healthy People US (2010); and Health and Protected Areas in Spain (2013) (Romagosa et al., 2015). The National Park System in the USA identified guiding design principles to ensure national parks contributed to human health (Schmalz et al., 2013; Thomsen et al., 2013). These included committing to increased accessibility, healthy food and beverage services and investing in internal programmes to improve the public health of agency workers themselves. While these programmes continued to grow and expand, their supporters also noted the dearth of research specific to parks and protected areas (as opposed to nature in general) needed to justify government investment and improve the relevancy of services (Romagosa et al., 2015; Lemieux et al., 2015). Australian researchers continued to study diverse connections between humans and parks, with a specific focus on social capital (Senior and Townsend, 2005) and mental health (Government of South Australia, 2017). Meanwhile, some doctors already prescribed time in nature to patients based on educational and marketing outreach of these HPHP programmes (Seltenrich, 2015). Similar to the conservation and development paradigm shift, the efforts to design and market natural spaces for human health changed the debate from ‘parks vs. people’ to ‘parks and people’. By creating and promoting spaces that supported human wellbeing, both the natural environment and the human environment could be restored and protected. Moreover, the linking of these prior distinct outcomes through a singular mechanism created the opportunity for collaboration across government institutions, promoting greater efficiency and creativity in addressing public concerns.

CONCLUSION As with the conceptualizations of human wellbeing, the motivations and methods for integrating wellbeing with environmental management are highly diverse. But a trend is clear. Governments, scientists and non-profit organizations are acting on a progressive worldview that social systems are inextricably

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a part of natural ecosystems. As such, any contribution to one will require an action or reaction to the other. In this chapter we have explored how the patterns for integrating human and ecological goals in environmental management vary based on the philosophical foundation initiating the effort. In the tropics, the combination of human wellbeing and conservation objectives has been largely driven by an international development narrative around environmental justice and conventional alternatives, including capabilities (such as buen vivir). In western countries, the linking of healthy human populations and healthy ecosystems is a response to the segregated Public Health and Environmental Management institutions. At times, the initiatives are driven by a more efficient way to restore environments and obtain public support for their management (such as in the Puget Sound). Other times, the initiatives are more driven by getting people to use green spaces for leisure (such as Healthy Parks Healthy People initiatives). Both are responses to the inefficiencies of a singular perspective, adopting a more collaborative approach to public policy. Interestingly, the integration of human wellbeing and environmental management in all three case studies was initiated by the environment-focused field. And although each of these examples derives from unique theoretical and practical frameworks, they all landed on the justification that such a focus would establish healthier social and ecological systems. We foresee the continuation of this integration as validating and enhancing our understanding of multi-dimensional human wellbeing while re-connecting the field of environmental management to its social roots.

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Roberts, J.T. and A. Hite (2000), ‘Introduction’, in J.T. Roberts and A. Hite (eds), From Modernization to Globalization, Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers, pp. 1‒24. Romagosa, F., P.F.J. Eagles and C.J. Lemieux (2015), ‘From the inside out to the outside in: Exploring the role of parks and protected areas of providers of human health and well-being’, Journal of Outdoor Recreation and Tourism, 10, 70‒77. Rostow, W.W. (1960), ‘The stages of economic growth: A non-communist manifesto’, reprinted in J.T. Roberts and A. Hite (eds) (2000), From Modernization to Globalization, Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishers. Scarlato, M. (2013), ‘Social enterprise, capabilities and development paradigms: Lessons from Ecuador’, Journal of Development Studies, 43 (9), 1270‒1283. Schmalz, D., J. Hallo, S. Griffin, M. Kisch and M. Arce (2013), ‘Development of a Healthy Parks Healthy People strategic action plan for Hot Springs National Park’, Park Science, 30 (2), 37‒43. Scott, K. (2012), Measuring Wellbeing: Towards Sustainability? New York, NY: Routledge Press. Seltenrich, N. (2015), ‘Just what the doctor ordered: Using parks to improve children’s health’, Environmental Health Perspectives, 123 (10), A255‒A259. Sen, A. (2003), ‘Development as capability expansion’, in S. Fukuda-Parr, A.K. Shiva Kumar and A. Sen (eds), Readings in Human Development, Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, pp. 3‒16. Senior, J. and M. Townsend (2005), ‘Healthy Parks, Healthy People and other social capital initiatives of Parks Victoria, Australia’, in Ted Trzyna (ed.), The Urban Imperative, Sacramento, CA: California Institute of Public Affairs, pp. 111‒121. Seymour, V. (2016), ‘The human–nature relationship and its impact on health: A critical review’, Frontiers in Public Health, 4, 260. Sikkema, S.W. (2018), ‘The capability approach as an account of minimal well-being that does justice to indigenous peoples’, thesis, Utrecht University, 13 August. Soulé, M. (2013), ‘The new conservation’, Conservation Biology, 27 (5), 895‒897. Stiles, K., K. Biedenweg, K. Wellman, L. Kintner and D. Ward (2015), Human wellbeing vital signs and indicators for Puget Sound recovery: A technical memorandum to the Puget Sound Partnership, Tacoma, WA: Puget Sound Partnership. Sutcliffe, B. ([2000] 1995), ‘Development after eology’, in J. Timmons Roberts and A. Hite (eds), From Modernization to Globalization: Perspectives on Development and Social Science, Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, pp. 328–339. Thompson, T. and E. Scigliano (2003), Puget Sound: Sea Between the Mountains, Portland, OR: Graphic Arts Books. Thomsen, J.M., R.B. Powell and D. Allen (2013), ‘Park health resources: Benefits, values, and implications’, Park Science, 30 (2), 30‒36. United National Environment Programme (UNEP) (n.d.), accessed September 2019 at https://​www​.unenvironment​.org/​about​-un​-environment. US EPA (2018), Our mission and what we do, accessed 10 June 2020 at https://​www​ .epa​.gov/​aboutepa/​our​-mission​-and​-what​-we​-do. Vanhulst, J. and A.E. Beling (2014), ‘Buen vivir: Emergent discourse within or beyond sustainable development’, Ecological Economics, 101, 54‒63. Villalba, U. (2013), ‘Buen vivir vs development: A paradigm shift in the Andes?’, Third World Quarterly, 34 (8), 1427‒1442. Wallerstein, I. (1987), The Capitalist World-Economy, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Wolanski, E. and M. Elliott (2015), Estuarine Ecohydrology: An Introduction, Amsterdam: Elsevier.

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17. Budgeting for wellbeing Arthur Grimes INTRODUCTION A number of countries, at different stages of economic development, have introduced a ‘wellbeing approach’ to public policy. These countries (or nations) include, inter alia, Bhutan, Australia, France, Wales, United Arab Emirates (UAE) and New Zealand. Other countries, including the United Kingdom, have flirted with the approach. This chapter deals with how we might define a wellbeing approach to public policy based on philosophical traditions, and then examines what we might learn from country experiences with implementing such an approach. It also addresses the question of whether a wellbeing approach differs from traditional approaches to welfare (for example, welfare economics and the welfare state) or whether it is just a repackaging of traditional approaches with new rhetoric. The country examples suggest that overarching wellbeing frameworks have not (yet) been successful in modifying policymaking towards a greater focus on residents’ wellbeing; instead, micro-oriented approaches appear to offer a more coherent way forward.

WHAT IS WELLBEING? The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary includes as a definition of wellbeing: ‘The state of being or doing well in life; happy, healthy, or prosperous condition; welfare.’ Meanwhile, it includes as a definition of welfare: ‘good fortune, happiness, or well-being’. Thus, when we talk of a person’s wellbeing, we can equally talk of that person’s welfare. Immediately, this equivalence raises the question of whether a wellbeing-based approach to policy is the same as a traditional welfare-based approach. One of the founders of welfare economics, Arthur Pigou, distinguished between economic welfare (which could be judged through the measuring rod of money) and total welfare (which included all aspects of a person’s welfare whether pecuniary or non-pecuniary). He noted that there are occasions ‘in which economic causes, that affect economic welfare in one way, affect total welfare in a different way’ (Pigou, 1932, p. 9). 268

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Pigou, also noted that measures of economic activity (such as measures of GDP) could prove misleading when they do not account for work conducted within the home. In the 1970s, two subsequent Nobel prize-winners, Nordhaus and Tobin (1973), made a similar observation, and Waring (1988) further developed the importance of this issue. Pigou’s inclusion of all factors that affect a person’s wellbeing within ‘total welfare’ means that wellbeing-based policy approaches and welfare-based policy approaches can be considered as broadly synonymous, although ‘wellbeing economics’ has probably expanded the boundaries of the field. For instance, modern wellbeing economics addresses topics such as the relationship between wellbeing and both absolute and relative incomes (Easterlin, 1974; Stevenson and Wolfers, 2008), the impacts on wellbeing of unanticipated events such as layoffs and widowhood (Clark et al., 2008), the impact of fiscal settings for wellbeing (Grimes et al., 2016), the relationship of wellbeing to human rights and freedoms (Helliwell et al., 2012) and the relationship of wellbeing to migration (Preston and Grimes, 2019; Grimes and Wesselbaum, 2019; and see Hendriks, Chapter 15 this volume). Modern wellbeing economics also includes insights from behavioural economics showing that people do not always improve their personal wellbeing when making choices (Allcott et al., 2019). Whilst Smith and Dombroski (Chapter 6, this volume) adopt an alternative school of heterodox economic thought where wellbeing emerges from community economies and surviving well together. Most wellbeing approaches to policy are based either on a utilitarian (subjective wellbeing) approach or on a capabilities approach, each of which is outlined below. These approaches are useful to understand in order to interpret actual wellbeing-based approaches to public policy and budgeting across a range of countries.

WELLBEING AND PUBLIC POLICY: PHILOSOPHICAL APPROACHES Utilitarian Approach The promotion of wellbeing (or welfare, or happiness) through public policy has a long philosophical history. In approximately 500bc, the Chinese philosopher Confucius concluded: ‘There is good government when those who are near are made happy, and when those who are afar are attracted’ (Confucius, n.d.). Two hundred years later, the Greek philosopher, Epicurus, concluded that citizens should seek peace, freedom from fear and the absence of pain. Enlightenment philosophers within the utilitarian school built on Epicurus’ teachings. Bentham posited that: ‘it is the greatest happiness of the greatest number that is the measure of right and wrong’ (Bentham, 1977, p. 393),

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while Mill (1863) argued that a moral agent (including a government) should choose their actions so that total happiness was maximised. The approach was used to argue for the rights of women (Wollstonecraft, 1792; Mill, 1869), non-believers, homosexuals, prisoners and animals (Singer (2011) advocates for the rights of animals based on a utilitarian perspective); and the approach influenced the founding principles of the United States of America (The Declaration of Independence stated that people have the inalienable right to ‘the pursuit of Happiness’). Modern utilitarian approaches to wellbeing and public policy concentrate on designing policies that act to increase people’s subjective wellbeing [SWB] (Layard, 2011; Helliwell et al., 2012; Singer, 2011; Pinker, 2018). One approach to SWB is to emphasise people’s momentary happiness or unhappiness (that is, positive and negative affect). This form of wellbeing is often termed hedonic wellbeing. A second approach (influenced by Aristotle) is based on eudaemonic wellbeing, being the pursuit of a meaningful life. A third approach, which underpins most modern utilitarian-based approaches to public policy, is to concentrate on evaluative wellbeing, being a broad assessment of satisfaction with life. Evaluative wellbeing is typically measured by asking people to consider their overall life situation. The two most common questions employed in surveys are as follows: (1) All things considered, how satisfied are you with your life as a whole these days? (This wording is used in the World Values Survey and European Values Survey (with responses on a 1–10 scale). Other surveys, including official surveys, use minor variants of this wording). (2) Please imagine a ladder with steps numbered from zero at the bottom to ten at the top. The top of the ladder represents the best possible life for you and the bottom of the ladder represents the worst possible life for you. On which step of the ladder would you say you personally feel you stand at this time? (This question, which is used in the Gallup World Poll, is known as the Cantril Ladder (Cantril, 1965)). Most modern adherents of the SWB approach emphasise the importance of considering the distribution of SWB; thus, addressing inequalities in wellbeing matter for the design of public policies (Layard, 2011, 2016). Policies may be adopted that directly influence an individual’s SWB, or policies may be designed to address people’s constraints, such as their education, skills, childcare needs, human rights or other freedoms that inhibit people from enhancing their wellbeing.

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Capabilities Approach The second principal philosophical approach to designing wellbeing frameworks for public policy rests on the ‘capabilities approach’ of Amartya Sen. Instead of postulating that wellbeing is an end in itself, he argues that policy should aim to improve people’s capabilities so that they can ‘lead the kinds of lives they value – and have reason to value’ (Sen, 1999). Sen defines capabilities (indirectly) as: ‘A person’s advantage in terms of opportunities is judged to be lower than that of another if she has less capability – less real opportunity – to achieve those things that she has reason to value’ (Sen, 2009, p. 232). Within this approach, public policy should aim to enhance people’s capabilities but should not concern itself with the (wellbeing) outcomes of those capabilities. The capabilities approach is silent on how policies that might raise different capabilities (potentially for different people) should be prioritised. One clue regarding matters of prioritisation comes from the caveat that Sen places on his approach: he emphasises that people must have ‘reason to value’ the lives they wish to live. But who decides which reasons might be acceptable? Nussbaum (2011) proposed a set of central capabilities but Sen, himself, refuses to specify a set of required capabilities. The capabilities approach is consequently somewhat inchoate as a guide to policy prioritisation within the budgetary process. Nevertheless, the capabilities approach to wellbeing policy is influential. It lies at the heart of the Stiglitz–Sen–Fitoussi (SSF) Commission report (Stiglitz et al., 2009) that aimed ‘to identify the limits of GDP as an indicator of economic performance & social progress’. Reflecting the capabilities approach, SSF recommended the adoption of a dashboard of indicators relating to people’s objective and subjective conditions and capabilities. It also emphasised the importance of the sustainability of wellbeing, recommending the adoption also of a dashboard of sustainability indicators. The dashboard approach is reflected in the OECD (2011) ‘How’s Life’ approach and in its Better Life Index (BLI) (which incorporates eleven wellbeing domains: housing, income, jobs, community, education, environment, civic engagement, health, life satisfaction, safety and work life balance. It also incorporates four ‘capitals’: human, social, natural, economic.). Composite indexes, based on a range of indicators include the United Nations Development Programme’s [UNDP] Human Development Index (HDI) and the UNDP’s Multi-dimensional Poverty Index (MPI). The MPI, based on the approach of Alkire and Foster (2011), sets thresholds for each of a range of indicators and then counts the number of indicators (or groups of indicators, termed ‘domains’) for which an individual falls below the threshold. If a person is below the threshold for a certain proportion (for example, one third) of indicators the person is deemed to be in multi-dimensional poverty.

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The approach indicates the proportion of people deemed to be in poverty (the ‘headcount ratio’) and provides an estimate of the ‘intensity of poverty’, being the proportion of indicators in which poor people, on average, are deprived. We therefore observe a variety of conceptual approaches to wellbeing that a public policy agency may adopt. The following examples show how these different conceptual approaches have underpinned alternative wellbeing frameworks across a range of countries. We concentrate, in particular, on how the implementation of a country’s wellbeing approach has assisted policymakers to prioritise expenditures within the budgetary process and on how the approach has assisted citizens to hold government to account in meeting specified wellbeing goals.

COUNTRY EXAMPLES We briefly review a range of country experiences with adopting wellbeing approaches to underpin budgetary policy. The examples, presented in chronological order of establishment, illustrate the adoption of different wellbeing approaches across countries. Bhutan1 Perhaps the most famous wellbeing approach to public policy is Bhutan’s adoption of Gross National Happiness (GNH). In 1972, Bhutan’s King, Jigme Singye Wangchuck, declared that the pursuit of happiness was more important for the country than the pursuit of wealth. Article 9 of the 2008 Constitution of Bhutan requires the state ‘to promote those conditions that will enable the pursuit of Gross National Happiness’. Bhutan’s government adopted a formal Gross National Happiness (GNH) index, based on the MPI approach of Alkire and Foster. The 2010 index included nine domains, that is, broad fields of wellbeing (the nine (equally weighted) domains are: psychological wellbeing, health, time use, education, cultural diversity and resilience, good governance, community vitality, ecological diversity and resilience, and living standards). Reflecting Bhutanese culture, these domains include spirituality, ecological issues, and contributions to others, as well as more common domains (in the western literature) of health, education and living standards. The index incorporated 124 variables which together represented 33 indicator clusters. A threshold was set for each variable where the threshold denotes the level at which a person is deemed to have sufficiency of that resource. The MPI approach was used to weight indicators and to derive headcount ratios of people who are assigned to various categories of happiness: ‘Deeply happy’ (sufficient in at least 7/9 domains; comprising 8 per cent of the population), ‘Extensively happy’ (sufficient in

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6/9 domains; 33 per cent), ‘Narrowly happy’ (sufficient in 5/9 domains; 49 per cent), and ‘Unhappy’ (sufficient in fewer than 5/9 domains; 10 per cent). People in the top two groups are regarded as ‘Happy’ and others are regarded as ‘Not-yet-happy’. Average sufficiency of each person across domains (reflecting intensity of poverty in each group) is also derived. While the index itself is of interest, it is the use of the GNH framework for policy on which we focus. Apart from measurement (across people, regions and time), GNH is used to set a broad framework for development, to allocate resources, and to provide indicators to guide specific public investments and policies. For instance, if development in one domain lags developments in others, it is intended that development policy be reoriented towards addressing the lagging domain given that all nine domains are considered equally important and inter-connected. In order to help allocate resources, the GNH indices show which regions and which types of people (for example, by gender or age) are lagging behind others, and hence in greater need of policy attention. The focus on fields that are most lagging in performance has the potential, however, to create tensions in the implementation of the framework. The approach does not include explicit consideration of the costs incurred to generate improvements in some indicators relative to others. For instance, it could be the case that all people just meet the threshold for a certain indicator but would prefer to improve still further in that respect, and further improvements may involve little cost. Conversely, a large number of people may fall below the threshold for a second indicator, but the cost of improvements for that indicator may be massive. The use of thresholds to guide policy may direct resources towards addressing improvements in the second indicator whereas a comparison of benefits for the same cost may indicate that improvements in the first indicator will be of greater benefit for individuals. The Bhutanese authorities explicitly adopted the multi-dimensional poverty approach over an approach that relies on individuals’ own subjective judgements of their welfare. If we were to rely instead on people’s own SWB judgements, we see that over 2016‒2018, Bhutan ranked 95th of 156 countries in terms of the mean Gallup Poll Cantril Ladder measure of wellbeing (Helliwell et al., 2018), on a par with China (93rd) and Nepal (100th). It ranked well above both Bangladesh (125th) and India (140th). An estimate of its ranking over 2005‒2011 (Helliwell et al., 2012), placed Bhutan at around the same ranking (90th‒95th). Over that same period, China and Nepal improved their rankings considerably while Bangladesh and India slipped substantially. Thus, it is not clear that the GNH approach has meaningfully helped to lift the wellbeing of Bhutanese residents. The high proportion of ‘not-yet-happy’ people in Bhutan, combined with the country’s relatively low ranking when people rate their own lives, indicates that the GNH approach to policy still has to

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address substantial challenges. Whether it is an appropriate policy framework for doing so will be a focus of attention for scholars and policymakers alike. Australia The Australian Treasury developed its Treasury Wellbeing Framework in 2004 to guide policy (Australian Treasury, 2004). It was initially based on standard welfare economics concepts, with the framework stating: Wellbeing has different meanings for different people … each person will have their own interpretation of what is specifically important with respect to their own wellbeing, the wellbeing of others, and the weight that they place on each dimension of wellbeing … the Treasury wellbeing framework draws primarily on the methods of welfare economics and the related philosophical tradition of utilitarianism.

The framework also incorporated elements of Sen’s capabilities approach by generalising the concept of utility and its determinants so that: utility is a measure of not just happiness, but all of the elements of life that are valued by an individual. This type of utility function can encapsulate capabilities, as discussed by Sen, to the extent that they are valued by the individual.

Rather than designing a separate dashboard of indicators that might contribute to utility, the framework referred to a programme, Measures of Australian Progress, already underway within the official statistical agency, Australian Bureau of Statistics [ABS], first released in 2002. The Treasury Framework was refined in 2011 with the role of capabilities becoming more prominent. The revised framework emphasised five dimensions to be considered when making policy: (i) The set of opportunities available to people, (ii) The distribution of those opportunities across the Australian people, (iii) The sustainability of those opportunities available over time, (iv) The overall level and allocation of risk borne by individuals and the community and (v) The complexity of the choices facing individuals and the community (Australian Treasury, 2012). The first three dimensions are shared by many wellbeing frameworks. The final two are less commonly incorporated explicitly, but both are relevant to the wellbeing of individuals and communities. A less risky environment is to be preferred over a riskier one when expected outcomes are otherwise similar. In addition, while policy complexity brings some advantages (for example, being able to target assistance to those most in need) it has administrative costs and may increase cognitive load costs for people interacting with policy agencies (Mullainathan and Shafir, 2013).

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In the same 2012 document, the Treasury posed a question about its revised framework (together with their answer): whether the wellbeing framework can be used – or be refined to be used – as an analytical tool that staff can use to work through specific policy issues. The answer is clearly ‘no’.

The Treasury explained that the framework does not replace standard economic frameworks and evidence. Rather, its role is to provide direction and context for policy advice, and it does not set out a simple checklist to provide answers. Thus, the wellbeing framework is seen as a contextual complement to more specific analytical tools when specific budgetary decisions are considered. While this assessment reflects reality, the difficulty is that the more immediate tools (for example, financial or cost–benefit analysis of a programme) may crowd out reflections of a more general nature that the wellbeing framework raises. This lack of direct applicability may have been one reason behind the scrapping of the Wellbeing Framework. In 2014, the ABS’s publication, Measures of Australia’s Progress, was discontinued as a cost-cutting measure while the Treasury’s Wellbeing Framework was also scrapped. Revealed preference implies that the Wellbeing Framework was evidently not adding sufficient value to the budgetary process to be considered worthwhile at a time of fiscal stringency, and it has not since been revived. France An Act of Parliament in 2015 requires the French Government to submit an annual report to Parliament (on the first Tuesday of October): presenting the evolution, over the last years, of new wealth indicators as indicators on inequalities, quality of life and sustainable development, as well as a qualitative or quantitative assessment of the main reforms initiated in the previous, in the current, and in the following year. The report will be presented during the debates on the budget law and these new indicators will be compared to the GDP. The report can be debated in Parliament. (Durand et al., 2018, see also the French government website: https://​www​.gouvernement​ fr/​en/​new​-indicators​-of​-wealth)

While announced with a flourish, the framework appears to have fallen largely into abeyance. The 2015 report adopted ten wealth indicators and evaluated six major reform measures. It was discussed in Parliamentary committees, but that process did not occur again in 2016 (Durand et al., 2018). The official French government website does not highlight any report beyond the initial 2015 report, although subsequent reports have been delivered, albeit all late. The timing of the reports is important since they are intended to inform the debate

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on the budget law which takes place in October; delays in the wealth indicator reports compromise that intention. In an analysis of the 2017 report, Pagnon (quoted in Robert, 2018) notes that the report analysed the carbon emission implications of the introduction of a new tax credit for competitiveness and employment. While the report’s analysis showed positive employment outcomes from the tax credit, it also showed deleterious carbon emission effects. The latter findings did not alter the implementation of the policy. Thus, while reform measures are analysed in terms of the indicators, there is no process for formally making trade-offs across the indicators where a measure improves some outcomes at the expense of others. This lack of a framework for making trade-offs is a general problem with capabilities-based dashboard approaches to policy, especially when it comes to making budget decisions. Wales While not being a separate country, the nation of Wales has its own Parliament, which adopted the Well-being of Future Generations (Wales) Act 2015. The Act requires specified public bodies (including all local councils and other locally based governmental organisations) to improve the social, economic, environmental and cultural wellbeing of Wales (Llywodraeth Cymru, 2015). The Welsh wellbeing approach follows earlier forays into wellbeing policies by the United Kingdom government. David Cameron, the UK Prime Minister declared, in 2006: Wealth is about so much more than … dollars can ever measure. It’s time we admitted that there’s more to life than money, and it’s time we focused not just on GDP, but on GWB – general wellbeing. (Cameron, 2006)

While the Prime Minister did not define what he meant by ‘general wellbeing’, the UK’s Office for National Statistics [ONS] contemporaneously developed its Measuring National Well-being programme. The programme included a dashboard of wellbeing indicators to describe how well individuals, communities and the nation as a whole are doing. Similarly, Scotland adopted a National Performance Framework in 2016 (‘Scotland Performs’), with indicators of progress. The UK and Scotland frameworks are similar to the defunct Australian model, with a plethora of indicators describing aspects of wellbeing, but without a direct link from those indicators to the budgetary process. The Welsh example, while still in its infancy, provides a contrast to the UK and Scotland approaches. The new Act establishes seven wellbeing goals: A prosperous Wales; a resilient Wales; a healthier Wales; a more equal Wales; a Wales of more cohesive communities; a Wales of vibrant culture and thriving

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Welsh language; a globally responsible Wales. This setting of lofty goals is not unusual; what is more unusual is that the Act places a duty on public bodies to carry out sustainable development. The latter concept has both current and future wellbeing aspects with sustainable development being defined in the legislation as: ‘the process of improving the economic, social, environmental and cultural well-being of Wales by taking action, in accordance with the sustainable development principle, aimed at achieving the well-being goals’. The ‘sustainable development principle’ refers to the Brundtland definition of development that meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs (see also Searle, Chapter 18 this volume). The Act requires each listed public body to publish wellbeing objectives that show how they intend to achieve the seven wellbeing goals, and also to list the actions that they intend to take in order to meet the objectives they set. This process must consider the wellbeing of both current and future generations. The public bodies must also work with other bodies and with the public when setting and implementing their policies. A feature of the approach is that the Welsh Auditor-General can examine whether public bodies have acted in accordance with the sustainable development principle. This brings the framework closer to the budgetary process since budgets must be formulated with reference to the legislated wellbeing goals. Furthermore, a Future Generations Commissioner for Wales acts as a neutral guardian for the interests of future generations. Thus, public bodies are held accountable for their decisions both with respect to current wellbeing and sustainable wellbeing. The real test of the Welsh framework will be if budgetary decisions become more focused on the current and future wellbeing objectives, and if the auditor-general and future generations commissioner act decisively to hold authorities to account. It is too early to judge whether this process will work as intended, but the establishment of clear accountability mechanisms provide for a greater hope of success than the Australian or French high-level frameworks that do not have accompanying accountability mandates. United Arab Emirates The United Arab Emirates [UAE] government has been a leader in implementing a wellbeing framework that reflects the central tenets of the subjective wellbeing (utilitarian) approach. Building on work within the UK to incorporate subjective wellbeing measures into official ONS surveys and into cost–benefit analysis (see Fujiwara and Campbell, 2011; Fujiwara and Dolan, 2016; Layard, 2016; HM Treasury, 2018), the UAE and Dubai governments have adopted public policy guides for the inclusion of wellbeing metrics into

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the evaluation of public policy programmes (National Program for Happiness and Positivity [NPHP], 2017; Government of Dubai, 2018). The subjective wellbeing focus is deemed appropriate for the UAE, with the country’s leader (His Highness Sheikh Khalifa Bin Zayed Al Nahyan) stating: ‘Happiness of UAE citizens remains a top priority and permanent target of our federal and local governments’ (NPHP, 2017, p. 3). The NPHP document further states: ‘Ever since the UAE was founded, the main intention of the founding fathers was for everyone living in the UAE to be happy’ (NPHP, 2017, p. 3). While the happiness focus makes the formulation of wellbeing policies more concrete than in countries that have adopted a capabilities framework, the UAE nevertheless adopts a multi-domain approach. Based on research in happiness science, the NPHP identifies six primary drivers of happiness: economy, education, health, society and culture, government services and government, and environment and infrastructure. Policy proposals need to be assessed in light of their effects on each of these six happiness drivers. They may also be assessed directly in terms of their effects on overall evaluative life satisfaction. As described in the NPHP document, qualitative assessment is undertaken for the effects of a project on each of the six happiness drivers, assigning a policy impact score of 0 to 100 for each driver. A score of 50‒60 indicates some positive impact while a score of over 70 indicates a highly positive impact. The effects across the six drivers are then averaged to form a Happiness Impact Assessment Score [HIAS]. The number of years over which policy has an impact is multiplied by the HIAS to form a measure of Happiness-Years [HAPYs].2 Cost effectiveness analysis can then be employed by dividing the project’s HAPYs (per person) by the per person expenditure on the project in order to compare the (qualitatively assessed) benefits of each project per dirham (the UAE currency) against that of each other project within the budgetary process. In addition to using cost effectiveness analysis, cost‒benefit analysis is employed when life satisfaction benefits arising from a policy programme can be calculated (using regression analysis). NPHP give the example of the treatment of diabetes. Regression analysis may find, for instance, that 10,000 dirhams of extra income contribute 0.1 extra life satisfaction points (on a 0‒10 scale) while living with diabetes reduces life satisfaction (on average) by 0.2 points. It can then be inferred that successful treatment of diabetes produces a benefit that is equivalent to 20,000 dirhams. This figure can be used to represent benefits of treatment within a conventional cost‒benefit analysis. The UAE’s mandated approach to policy assessment for budgetary purposes integrates the utilitarian (subjective wellbeing) approach into the budgetary process (this approach compares with the option of using such methods in the

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UK’s Green Book cost‒benefit manual and in the New Zealand Treasury’s cost‒benefit manual, CBAx). Even its qualitative assessment tool (leading to the HIAS and HAPYs) is based on research findings regarding the key drivers of happiness. The cost‒benefit approach provides a rigorous linking of wellbeing economics to budget management. One aspect that is not emphasised in the UAE (or Dubai) documents is the effect of human rights on wellbeing. Layard et al. (2012) find that freedom, defined as being able to ‘choose what you do with your life’, has a significant positive association with life satisfaction across countries (it also has a significant positive association with positive affect (that is, positive emotions) and a significant negative association with negative affect (negative emotions)). Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International have both documented extreme abuses of human rights in UAE including arbitrary detention, imprisonment, and torture.3 The UAE therefore has perhaps the most rigorously designed wellbeing framework for budgetary assessment of policy proposals of any country but it is set within a broader context that is antagonistic to wellbeing, at least for those regarded as dissidents. Thus, we observe a paradox of a policy regime built on the principle of happiness within a country that exercises authoritarian denial of human rights. Furthermore, while the framework is focused explicitly on citizens (NPHP, 2017, p. 3), only 15 per cent of UAE’s residents are citizens of the country. New Zealand Supported by prior work from within the New Zealand Treasury (2018), the New Zealand government released a so-called ‘wellbeing budget’ in 2019. In 2018, the Treasury adopted a slight variant of the OECD’s Better Life Index for its Living Standards Framework [LSF]. The LSF added a twelfth domain, cultural identity, to the other eleven OECD domains, while retaining the OECD’s four capitals (natural, human, social, and financial and physical). Accompanying the LSF was a compilation of 61 indicators across the twelve domains and four capital stocks. Thus, like the OECD’s approach, the LSF rested solidly on a capabilities approach to wellbeing policy. In keeping with the experience of other dashboard frameworks in policy settings, the LSF gave little guide as to the prioritisation that should occur in light of the information provided by the 61 indicators. Instead, to guide prioritisation for the budget process, the Minister of Finance released a set of five priority areas that the 2019 budget would address: achieving a low-emissions economy; boosting innovation; lifting incomes, skills and opportunities for Māori and Pacific people; reducing child poverty and addressing family violence; and supporting mental wellbeing, with special focus on under 24-year-olds. Each of these areas had already been signalled in the (then

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opposition’s) election campaign of 2017, and there is no evidence that these priorities were influenced by the LSF. One positive aspect of the LSF approach was the release of detailed distributional information relating to the wellbeing domains according to population groups based on ethnicity, gender, age, region, area deprivation, family type, and employment status (McLeod, 2018). This information – while not explicitly used in the budget process – has the potential to assist prioritisation of government funding. For instance, the evidence showed that older people were doing better on most domains than were younger people, especially those with dependent children. This information could be used to redirect government funding from programmes designed to boost the wellbeing of older people to programmes designed to assist (especially low income) parents with children. The fact that budgeted government funding continues to increase for the over 65-year-old age group (for example, a universal ‘Winter Energy Payment’ was introduced starting in 2018 to pay an extra cash grant in winter to all people over 65 (plus other beneficiaries) without regard to the person’s income) despite this information highlights another challenge of wellbeing dashboard frameworks: the information that is released may not dovetail with political priorities in terms of voter support. Governments can pick and choose amongst a myriad of indicators to support pet projects and ignore others that do not support their priorities for vote retention.

CONCLUSIONS Several countries have introduced explicit wellbeing frameworks in an effort to improve policymaking and contribute to the budgetary process. To date, the majority of these frameworks have been built around the capabilities concepts proposed by Amartya Sen or – in Bhutan’s case – around the related multi-dimensional poverty approach advanced by Alkire and Foster. As outlined above, none of these capabilities-based approaches has proved effective in assisting prioritisation within the budgetary process, which is a process that is of central importance for policymaking. The attention to distributional outcomes across domains, as in New Zealand, may be an avenue that offers some assistance in this regard. A promising approach is the incorporation of clear accountability mechanisms within the Welsh legislation in which independent arbiters – the auditor-general and the future generations commissioner – scrutinise the impacts on current and future wellbeing of local agencies’ policy choices. Another promising approach is that adopted within the UAE. This approach is explicitly geared towards improving the life satisfaction (happiness) outcomes of people within the country. The approach provides estimates that are used in cost effectiveness analysis and, in some cases, provides benefit

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estimates to be used in cost–benefit analysis. The rigour and focus of these approaches make them much more applicable to making budgetary decisions than is the use of dashboard approaches. The latter have been largely sidelined in actual policymaking. A wider challenge now is to adopt country-relevant approaches reflecting aspects of the UAE framework in a fashion that works for all current and future residents of a country – including those residents who may not support the ruling regime. This task is as much a challenge in democracies as it is in more authoritarian nations.

NOTES 1. 2. 3.

The material in this sub-section draws on Ura et al. (2012). The HAPY concept is similar to the Happiness adjusted life year (HALY) concept of Veenhoven (2014). See: https://​www​ hrw​.org/​world​-report/​2019/​country​-chapters/​united​-arab​-emirates (accessed 10 October 2019), and: https://​www​.amnesty​.org/​en/​countries/​middle​ -east​-and​-north​-africa/​united​-arab​-emirates/​report​-united​-arab​-emirates/​ (accessed 10 October 2019).

REFERENCES Alkire, S. and J. Foster (2011), ‘Counting and multidimensional poverty measurement’, Journal of Public Economics, 95 (7‒8), 476‒487. Allcott, H., L. Braghieri, S. Eichmeyer and M. Gentzkow (2019), ‘The welfare effects of social media’, Working Paper 25514. Cambridge MA: National Bureau of Economic Research. Australian Treasury (2004), ‘Policy advice and Treasury’s wellbeing framework’, Economic Roundup Winter 2004, Canberra: Australian Treasury. Australian Treasury (2012), ‘Treasury’s wellbeing framework’, Economic Roundup Issue 3, 2012, Canberra: Australian Treasury. Bentham, J. (1977), A Comment on the Commentaries and a Fragment on Government, edited by J.H. Burns and H.L.A. Hart. London: The Athlone Press. Cameron, D. (2006), ‘David Cameron’s speech to Google Zeitgeist Europe 2006’, The www​ .theguardian​ .com/​ politics/​ Guardian, 22 May 2006, accessed from: https://​ 2006/​may/​22/​conservatives​.davidcameron. Cantril, H. (1965), The Pattern of Human Concern, New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Clark, A., E. Diener, Y. Georgellis and R. Lucas (2008), ‘Lags and leads in life satisfaction: A test of the baseline hypothesis’, The Economic Journal, 118 (529), F222–F243. Confucius (n.d.), ‘The Analects’, accessed from: http://​classics​mit​.edu//​Confucius/​ analects​ html. Durand, M. (with: C. Balestra, C. Exton, D. Marguerit, M. Mira d’Ercole, J. Monje-Jelfs, K. Scrivens, M. Shinwell, E. Tosetto) (2018), ‘Countries’ experiences with well-being and happiness metrics’, in The Global Happiness Council, Global

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Happiness Policy Report 2018, New York: Sustainable Development Solutions Network, pp. 201‒246. Easterlin, R. (1974), ‘Does economic growth improve the human lot? Some empirical evidence’, in P. David and M. Reder (eds), Nations and Households in Economic Growth: Essays in Honour of Moses Abramovitz, New York, NY: Academic, pp. 89‒125. Fujiwara, D. and R. Campbell (2011), ‘Valuation techniques for social cost benefit analysis: Stated preference, revealed preference and subjective well-being approaches’, London: HM Treasury. Fujiwara, D. and P. Dolan (2016), ‘Happiness-based policy analysis’, in M. Adler and M. Fleurbaey (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Well-being and Public Policy, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 286‒317. Government of Dubai (2018), ‘Public policy guide: A transformational journey’, Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Grimes, A., J. Ormsby, A. Robinson and S.Y. Wong (2016), ‘Subjective wellbeing impacts of national and subnational fiscal policies’, REGION, 3 (1), 43‒69. Grimes, A. and D. Wesselbaum (2019), ‘Moving towards happiness’, International Migration, 57 (3), 20‒40. Helliwell, J., R. Layard and J. Sachs (2012), World Happiness Report 2012, New York: The Earth Institute, Columbia University. Helliwell, J., R. Layard and J. Sachs (2018), World Happiness Report 2018, New York: The Earth Institute, Columbia University. HM Treasury (2018), The Green Book: Central Government Guidance on Appraisal and Evaluation, London: HM Treasury. Layard, R. (2011), Happiness: Lessons from a New Science (2nd ed.), London: Penguin. Layard, R. (2016), ‘Measuring wellbeing and cost-effectiveness analysis: Using subjective wellbeing’, Discussion Paper 1. What Works Centre for Wellbeing, London. Layard, R., A. Clark and C. Senik (2012), ‘The causes of happiness and misery’, in J. Helliwell, R. Layard and J. Sachs (eds), World Happiness Report, New York: Earth Institute, Columbia University, pp. 58‒89. Llywodraeth Cymru (2015), Well-being of Future Generations (Wales) Act: The Essentials (2nd ed.), Cardiff: Department for Natural Resources of the Welsh Government. McLeod, K. (2018), ‘Our people – multidimensional wellbeing in New Zealand’, Treasury Analytical Paper 18/04, Wellington: New Zealand Government. Mill, J.S. (1863), Utilitarianism, London: Parker, Son & Bourn. Mill, J.S. (1869), The Subjection of Women, London: Longmans, Green, Reader and Dyer. Mullainathan, S. and E. Shafir (2013), Scarcity: Why Having Too Little Means So Much, London: Macmillan. National Program for Happiness and Positivity (NPHP) (2017), Happiness Policy Manual, United Arab Emirates: NPHP. New Zealand Treasury (2018), ‘Our people, our country, our future. The living standards framework: Introducing the dashboard’, Wellington: New Zealand Government. Nordhaus, W. and J. Tobin (1973), ‘Is growth obsolete?’ in M. Moss (ed.), The Measurement of Economic and Social Performance, Boston: NBER, pp. 509‒564. Nussbaum, M. (2011), Creating Capabilities: The Human Development Approach, Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press. OECD (2011), How’s Life? Measuring Well-being, Paris: OECD Publishing. Pigou, A. (1932), The Economics of Welfare (4th ed.), London: MacMillan and Co.

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Pinker, S. (2018), Enlightenment Now: The Case for Reason, Science, Humanism and Progress, London: Allen Lane. Preston, K. and A. Grimes (2019), ‘Migration, gender, wages and wellbeing: Who gains and in which ways?’, Social Indicators Research, 144 (3), 1415‒1452. Robert, A. (translator Rob Kirby) (2018), Wealth researcher: ‘GDP growth doesn’t affect French people’s happiness’ (24 October 2018), accessed from: https://​www​ .euractiv​.com/​section/​economy​-jobs/​interview/​wealth​-indicator​-researcher​-gdp​ -growth​-doesnt​-affect​-french​-peoples​-happiness/​. Sen, A. (1999), Development as Freedom, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sen, A. (2009), The Idea of Justice, New York: Penguin. Singer, P. (2011), Practical Ethics (3rd ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stevenson, B. and J. Wolfers (2008), ‘Economic growth and subjective well-being: Reassessing the Easterlin paradox’, Brookings Papers on Economic Activity, May, 1‒87. Stiglitz, J., A. Sen and J-P. Fitoussi (2009), Report by the Commission on the Measurement of Economic Performance and Social Progress, Commission on the Measurement of Economic Performance and Social Progress, Paris. Ura, K., S. Alkire and T. Zangmo (2012), ‘Gross national happiness and the GNH index’, in J. Helliwell, R. Layard and J. Sachs (eds), World Happiness Report, New York: Earth Institute, Columbia University, pp. 108‒158. Veenhoven, R. (2014), ‘Happiness adjusted life years (HALY)’, in A. Michalos (ed.), Encyclopedia of Quality of Life and Well-Being Research, Dordrecht: Springer Reference Series, pp. 2641‒2643. Waring, M. (1988), If Women Counted: A New Feminist Economics, San Francisco: Harper & Row. Wollstonecraft, M. (1792), A Vindication of the Rights of Woman: with Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects, Boston: Thomas and Andrews (American edition).

18. Subjective wellbeing and transformation Beverley A. Searle INTRODUCTION In order to address global challenges, and create a different kind of future, we need to move beyond sustainable adaptation or incremental changes. Going forward we need to bring about restoration and regeneration through whole systems ‘transformational’ change. Societies need to fundamentally change attitudes, behaviour, narratives, processes and a range of other integrated systems to overcome existing and emerging social and environmental problems. Amongst other impacts, transformational change is deemed to enhance the wellbeing of both people and planet. However, placing wellbeing at the end of the process – as an outcome – misses the fundamental role of wellbeing as a co-evolving process of transformation. People need to have a certain level of subjective wellbeing before they become concerned with social or natural environments and have the confidence and self-esteem to challenge existing social and political structures, as well as their own behaviours and attitudes. This change needs to occur within a relational understanding of wellbeing, otherwise we run the risk of adding to existing problems through reinforcing wellbeing inequalities. In this chapter I argue that to achieve a different kind of future, through transformation we also need to transform systems of wellbeing. A review of the literature focuses on identifying the challenges facing society and the theories that have developed to address these notes a change in emphasis from sustainability to regeneration. This shift to creating alternate kinds of regenerative systems provides a frame of reference for new systems that build rather than erode wellbeing. This is developed through considering some of the cognitive abilities needed for transformation, and the role of subjective wellbeing as a co-evolving system of change. Conclusions are drawn indicating where a change in systems of wellbeing could be most effective in contributing to a whole systems transformational change. 284

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GLOBAL CHALLENGES AND TRANSFORMATIVE SOLUTIONS There is increasing recognition of the catastrophic nature of risks and challenges facing societies. Health pandemics (GCF, 2016), eradicating poverty (UN, 2015), climate change (UN, 1992; WHO, 2018) and emerging threats from new technologies and artificial intelligence (GCF, 2018) have all been identified as among the greatest global challenges of the twenty-first century. Whilst there is room for debate on which is the most fundamental challenge (Kelman et al., 2015), embedded within these discussions, arguably, one of the key shifts is in the acknowledgement that these risks and challenges are related and often reinforce each other, such that ‘in our interconnected world, the consequences could cascade globally, causing such devastation that even one such incident would be too many’ (GCF, 2018). An issue which came to light during the Covid-19 pandemic in early 2020 (WHO, 2020). In recognition of the relational nature of global challenges potential solutions are no longer deemed to be found through sustainable development, but require fundamental shifts – transformation – in thinking and behaviour. A ‘mandate for change’ in the interest of a ‘common future’ underpinned the ‘Brundtland Report’ (WCED, 1987; the report became known as the Brundtland Report after Gro Harlem Brundtland who Chaired the World Commission on Environment and Development). Although, not the first international initiative concerned with challenges crossing international boundaries, it did recognise that ‘human development’ and ‘environment’ should not be considered as separate spheres and attempts to defend one in isolation of the other amounted to political naivety, arguing ‘together, we should span the globe, and pull together to formulate an interdisciplinary, integrated approach to global concerns and our common future’ (Chairman’s Forward, WCED, 1987). Reflecting on the key crisis of the time, including famine, poverty, drought, pollution, debt, and stagnation in aid to developing countries, the Commission recognised the ‘accelerating ecological inter-dependencies’ locally, regionally and globally (para 15) and ‘became convinced that major changes were needed, both in attitudes and in the way our societies are organized’ (Chairman’s Forward, WCED, 1987). The new development path proposed by the report was that of sustainable development. Whilst the focus is on the often cited definition: Humanity has the ability to make development sustainable to ensure that it meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs. (para 27)

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the report also acknowledges that sustainable development is not a fixed state of harmony, but a process of change that is consistent with future as well as present needs. This requires ‘painful choices’, including the need to challenge existing political systems: Governments’ general response to the speed and scale of global changes has been a reluctance to recognize sufficiently the need to change themselves. The challenges are both interdependent and integrated, requiring comprehensive approaches and popular participation. (para 31) in the final analysis, sustainable development must rest on political will. (para 30)

Nearly 30 years later, the need for fundamental change in the name of sustainability still remains a global challenge. The 2030 Agenda for sustainable development (commonly referred to as the Sustainable Development Goals) was a ‘plan of action for people, planet and prosperity’ identifying that ‘transformative steps are urgently needed to shift the world on to a sustainable and resilient path’ (UN, 2015, p. 1). A key criticism of sustainable development, and arguably why progress had not been made as intended, is that it still provided the basis for continued economic progress (Washington, 2015, cited in Reyes, 2016), rooted in the idea of anthropocentric mastery over nature (Reyes, 2016). Despite the recognition of the need for political change, the Brundtland Report was still based on the development or growth paradigm which not only works in accordance with existing practices, but is biased in favour of existing power elites (Reyes, 2016). Another limitation of sustainability was its focus on maintaining the status quo, which in itself could be detrimental where this enables societies to cling to unsustainable activities (Fazey et al., 2018a). Sustainability implies current systems or paradigms are broadly accepted, or subject to some modification, when they should be critically questioned or challenged (O’Brien, 2012). If the systems themselves are the problem, then overcoming global challenges – be it poverty, health pandemics or climate change – requires overturning existing controls and functions of society facilitating a process of fundamental change (Fazey et al., 2018b; Kelman et al., 2015). This requires a subtle, but important, shift in focus from minimising damage of existing systems to creating new regenerative systems (Gabel, 2015) through transformative change. Regenerative systems are capacity enhancing, through creating positive feedback loops that start to reinforce new patterns of restoration and renewal. This regeneration process occurs through the continuous co-evolution of elements of the system and the system as a whole (Reed, 2007). According to Reed (2006, p. 4) the ‘fastest way to change a system occurs by changing the mental model or paradigm out of which the system arises’. Indeed, ‘if the process of transformative change is considered a barrier, it seems the aspect

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of “how one changes” should be of greatest interest’ (Reed, 2007, p. 677). In this way wellbeing becomes part of the regeneration process which builds wellbeing through positive feedback loops enabling wellbeing to co-evolve with transformative change: good wellbeing supports transformation and transformation supports good wellbeing.

TRANSFORMING SYSTEMS OF WELLBEING Like many terms, ‘transformation’ can have multiple meanings and definitions. According to the SDG Transformation Forum1 the essence of transformation is change that is big and complex, and will take time. They identify three types of change: incremental – working inside the box, doing more of the same within the current rules; reform – working outside the box, changing rules or structures; and transformation – which questions existing ways of thinking and understanding of the way things work, that is, ‘is it a box’? Transformation, in part, draws from the field of organisational change. In particular, a recognition that for change to have lasting impact, organisations need to engage in ‘whole system transformation’, a term coined by Roland Sullivan in the 1970s, meaning the ‘whole organisation is involved – as a system – in creating itself a new’ (Scherer et al., 2008, p. 3). When that organisation or system is at the national or global level, getting the whole system involved, clearly represents challenges. Not least that such a transformation requires very self-aware, systems-oriented individuals (Scherer et al., 2008), to create a critical mass of change makers (Waddock, 2015): When the individuals in a system are self-aware, they come to see that they need to get beyond their habitual ways of thinking, doing and being (…) More importantly, though, is that their self-awareness enables them to understand how they, themselves, are collectively responsible for what is happening in the current systems. This awareness brings a keen understanding that the system will not transform until they personally transform. (Scherer et al., 2008, p. 6; original emphasis)

Transformation then includes the capacity to become critically aware of one’s own assumptions, and those of others. It calls for a questioning of values and loyalties, challenging assumptions, questioning fixed beliefs and identities (O’Brien, 2012). According to O’Brien (2012) this includes physical and/or qualitative changes in form, structure or meaning-making or a psycho-social process involving the unleashing of human potential to commit, care and effect change for a better life. Transformation requires ‘critical reflection and open-mindedness, and the capacity to take in multiple perspectives and viewpoints, including those that challenge prevailing norms and interests’ (O’Brien, 2012, p. 673).

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On the one hand, then, whole systems transformation requires understanding the interconnectedness of challenges within a system that exist beyond any one individual, sector of a society, or national boundaries. On the other, to develop the capacity, or critical mass, to engage with whole systems transformation we need to start at the individual level, through personal transformation. So whilst a range of co-evolving cultural, systems and narrative changes are needed for transformation, many of these relate to mental models and cognitive capacities of individuals and collectives in terms of how they relate to the social and natural world, and work with the challenges they are facing. There are many components involved in the human change process, in this section I highlight three aspects by way of example of the ways we can start to transform systems of wellbeing: cognitive capacity and systems thinking; dominant narratives and path dependence; and futures conscious. Cognitive Capacity and Systems Thinking Transformation requires an awareness and ability to relate to knowledge across different interdependent contexts, it requires ‘systems intelligence’ (Hämäläinen and Michaelson, 2014). People need to be more holistic in their thinking, they need to be able to relate knowledge and information across different sources. The ability to process and sift through all the necessary information, evaluating its accuracy and relevance, filter out irrelevant information, requires the development of meta-cognitive skills and ‘synthesising minds’ (Gardner, 2006). Synthesis is a means of achieving deeper understanding, is a realisation that a phenomenon is too complex to be explained from a single perspective, and can be a powerful entry point into complex terrain. Achieving synthesis therefore ‘represents a heroic intellectual achievement’ (Gardner, 2006, p. 4). In addition to disciplined learning, synthesis also requires creative thinking as a necessary cognitive ability to challenge existing beliefs, behaviours and systems; ‘creative thinking involves an explicit rejection of current understandings, a commitment to raise new questions and produce unexpected yet inappropriate answers… one cannot become overly dependent on the current conceptualization if one is seeking to break new ground’ (Gardner, 2006, p. 17). A barrier to developing the cognitive capacity necessary for a synthesising mind is bounded rationality (Thaler and Sunstein, 2008). Our ability to think creatively and make rational decisions is limited by what we know, and the time we have to gather and process different information. To overcome this we tend to resort to mental shortcuts or ‘heuristics’ to help ease the cognitive load. We draw on information that may be readily available – from past experience, or a rule of thumb – because it is easier than challenging our beliefs and social norms, seeking alternative information, or consciously considering all the

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details or possibilities available (Thaler and Sunstein, 2008; John et al., 2009). This may lead to bias; where we gather certain characteristics or qualities together and make assumptions about people and situations in an uncritical way (Thaler and Sunstein, 2008). Heuristics can lead to the unconscious development of what we come to accept as social or cultural norms, embedded in our worldview. Dominant Narratives and Path-Dependence Ways of knowing or making sense of the world are formed through dominant narratives. Dominant narratives are a broader collection of ‘memes’ – ideas, poems, phrases, symbols, images, brands and other artefacts, which shape belief systems, attitudes and ideologies, helping humans relate to the world around them (Waddock, 2016). These narratives not only create the systems for ‘how we do things’, but crucially from a wellbeing perspective, determine ‘who we are’ (Waddock, 2015, p. 268). Dominant narratives in societies are important because they not only determine what the problems are, but have the potential to identify alternate solutions. For example, Waddock (2016) argues that much of Western culture is dominated by a neoliberal narrative that splits between humans and nature. This is in contrast to traditional or indigenous cultures where dominant narratives focus on the relationships between people and nature, forming the foundation of living for many local communities world-wide for millennia (Sangha et al., 2018). The existence of these different narratives, whilst pointing towards the social creation of global challenges, also suggest that alternative futures are possible: problems are not objective phenomena that exist independently of humankind (…) Rather, problems are often the product of a particular worldview, in the sense that they only exist as problems because society (or a particular subset of society) desire a certain state of affairs (…) many perceived problems and perceived solutions are in fact dependent on the way human beings view the world, or dependent on whose particular perspective is adopted. What this means is that if the world came to be looked at through a different worldview, a society might well find that it was faced with different problems, and perhaps different solutions would present themselves. (Alexander, 2012, p. 10)

Waddock (2015, 2016) argues that a crucial first step towards a major systemic change is a shift in the dominant narratives that determine mind-sets and worldviews. Relational wellbeing offers such an alternate narrative, because it focuses on profound subjective values not superficial material ones. Relational wellbeing offers a worldview in which people and nature are interdependent and equal (Helene and Hirvilammi, 2015; Hirvilammi and Helene, 2014; Spiller et al., 2011) (discussed further below). However, whilst narratives help

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us to make sense of the world, they can also create barriers or resistance to change, because they determine who we are and our place in the world. We adopt a particular mind-set, which keeps us on a certain life course which we are unable to change because we become locked into a certain way of thinking (path-dependence) that makes it difficult to see alternatives. Path dependence arises because systems are complex – there are multiple interacting variables that generate feedback loops or self-reinforcing mechanisms – these systems or processes are so complex that a process becomes locked-in and cannot break free, unless a significant external shock occurs (Garud et al., 2010). Path-dependence has mainly been analysed with respect to economic systems and organisational management, however, people can become path-dependent as well (Hämäläinen, 2014). We may have unconscious belief systems and behaviours or habits that keep us along traditional paths that may put up barriers to change. Obvious ones may be things like smoking, alcohol/drug abuse, lack of exercise or poor diet which put us on a pathway to deteriorating health. Other less obvious issues are low self-esteem or high social anxiety which may prevent us from talking to people, finding out information, engaging in activities that take us out of our comfort zones, challenging those close to us in fear of exclusion from our social networks or challenging those in power – in spite of the potential rewards or opportunities this may bring. Futures Conscious Bounded rationality and dominant narratives inhibit our ability to see beyond one possible future – dominated by the path we are currently on. For transformation, however, we need to develop new ways of knowing or imagining the world; one aspect of this is to develop a futures conscious (Inayatullah, 2008; Lombardo, 2012). Lombardo (2012) defines futures conscious as our general awareness of time, past, present and future; it includes capacities to ‘anticipate, predict, and imagine the future, to have hopes and dreams, set goals and plans, evaluate different possibilities’ (p. 1). A wellbeing, or emotional dimension, is central to this: anticipation involves feelings as well as thoughts and images; positive and negative emotions in the present influence the futures we create and goals we set; and it is through our emotional feelings about different possible futures that we determine what is desirable or preferable (Lombardo, 2012, pp. 6‒7). A focus on negative emotions – fear, anger, guilt, shame – Carter (2011) argues leads to a narrow focus and attention to the short-term. Negative emotions focus on the pressing, immediate problems of the here and now and can induce paralysis (Lombardo, 2012): Depression, in fact, could be seen as a disorder of future consciousness – a state where future consciousness has collapsed into nihilism and negativity (…) Positive

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emotions such as joy and happiness, enhance creative and opportunistic thinking and promote a win–win mind-set and openness to others and the world. Negative emotions, such as anxiety and depression, produce more defensive and critical thinking, a win–lose mind-set, and increased self-absorption in thoughts and images. Negative emotionality seems to prime the human mind to seeing what can go wrong in the future, whereas positive emotionality does the reverse, facilitating thinking of what can go right and how to achieve it. (Lombardo 2012, pp. 10‒11)

In particular hope is seen as an essential motivator: It is hope an emotion, which energizes and stimulates higher levels of future consciousness, our capacity to imagine and think about future possibilities is severely hindered without the feeling of hope (…) hope motivates (…) it energizes people into planning and taking action to realise their goals. (Lombardo, 2012, p. 7)

In summary, wellbeing is important for transformation, as it not only offers a new philosophy for living – where wellbeing of people and nature are treated with equal respect; but also, recognises the importance of subjective interpretations which underpin who we think we are and how we engage with each other and with the world. We need to be mindful of the language that dominates our thoughts and beliefs and have the cognitive capacity to create new narratives and ways of being. Negative emotions stifle the cognitive capabilities, creativity and collaboration needed for long-term transformational change. To facilitate the transformational change needed to address global challenges we need positive wellbeing.

CO-EVOLUTION OF TRANSFORMATION AND WELLBEING As discussed above, systems by definition are reinforcing, they like to keep things the same. In order to move beyond sustainability, the systems themselves need to change in order to heal the damage that has been done (Reed, 2006, 2007). We need to build new systems that reinforce their way into something different; we need systems that build rather than erode wellbeing. In order to achieve this, wellbeing needs to be seen as a critical part of this shift, it needs to co-evolve with the systems of transformative change. The dominance of certain narratives and our ability to challenge and change them requires a shift in mental models and cognitive capacity. The ability to develop alternate futures requires creativity and a sense of hope. Transformation not only means questioning the status quo but questioning ourselves; we need the confidence to question our own behaviours, attitudes and identity and the belief that we can make a difference.

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Confidence to Embrace Change For transformation we need fundamental change. Any change, however, comes with uncertainty (Holmes and Rahe, 1967) and can be viewed as a threat to current wellbeing. Where the risks of change are seen as greater than the risk of the status quo, this can result in inertia and resistance to change. For those societies, where change is also linked to making choices, this can be particularly problematic for embracing global challenges. Schwartz (2004) argues that choice causes paralysis; people are in fear of making the wrong choice from the plethora of options available; and even after having made a decision they constantly question themselves on whether they have made the right choice. This is particularly pertinent for consumer choice, where consumption behaviour has become tied in with our identity (Klein, 2010; Grušovnik, 2012). Changing our consumption behaviour means changing who we are: If we were to seriously admit our responsibility for natural destruction and its full consequences while still considering ourselves ‘responsible citizens’ we would have to abandon our consumerist lifestyles founded on high energy consumption. This, however, is difficult, because our lifestyle forms the basis of our identity, and consumption seems a safe and reliable embrace in the midst of our otherwise uncertain and insecure existence. Consuming is, therefore, undoubtedly the contemporary answer to the problems of insecurity, doubt, and consequently low self-esteem. Because our lifestyles are harder to change than the belief that we are causing harm to the environment, it’s much easier to deny the latter than to transform the former. (Grušovnik, 2012, pp. 101‒102)

For transformation we need confidence and self-esteem to create our own identity, out with consumption behaviour as Grušovnik (2012) argues, or out with dominant narratives as Waddock (2016) suggests. Low subjective wellbeing can result in a lack of confidence or low self-esteem and lack of a feeling of control, resulting in a limited sense of being able to make a difference, being afraid of trying something new, and fear of failure. We need to be able to accept the uncertainties that come with transformation, and not be afraid of taking risks. We need sufficient confidence and self-esteem to be able to assess, reassess, and move in new directions as possible alternate futures emerge. Believing we can Make a Difference This also leads into another important aspect of subjective wellbeing for transformation; that is the belief that we have the capacity to control our behaviour and that we can make change happen. Rotter’s (1966) seminal theory argues that individuals develop different perceptions of why things happen to them,

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based on where they think control lies. Internal control arises where a person believes a reward is contingent upon his or her own behaviour, for example, passing a test being due to their own hard work and preparation. External control arises where perception of reward and personal behaviour are not connected, but instead perceived as luck, chance, fate or under the control of powerful others. For example, failing a test being due to not wearing a lucky charm, or due to a teacher not providing the right guidance. Connected, but distinct from this, is perceived behavioural control. Ajzen’s (2002) theory of planned behaviour proposes that people’s behaviour or actions are linked to their intentions: perceived behavioural control in the theory of planned behaviour refers generally to people’s expectations regarding the degree to which they are capable of performing a given behaviour, the extent to which they have the requisite resources and believe they can overcome whatever obstacles they may encounter. (Ajzen, 2002, p. 677)

Factors, or resources, that a person will take into consideration can be internal to the individual (for example skills, knowledge or willpower) or external to the individual (proximity to resources or the place where the behaviour will be enacted, availability of time, money and so on). Whether these resources and obstacles are internal or external is not important, what matters is ‘the extent to which they are believed to be present and are perceived to facilitate or impede performance or behaviour’ (Ajzen, 2002, p. 677). The interdependencies of these elements are also crucial for transformation. Perceived behavioural control and self-esteem are important for developing futures conscious. Lombardo (2012) argues those with an internal locus of control and high self-esteem can think about different futures. They are able to embrace both the positive and negative aspects as something they can change. On the contrary, those with an external locus of control and low self-esteem are less inclined to think about the future, after all, what is the point when they do not feel they have any control over what happens? Self-esteem and perceived behavioural control could also provide the means to overcome cognitive dissonance. Being environmentally friendly clashes with desires around consumption or behaviour practices which can lead to environmental amotivation (Grušovnik, 2012). Thus: if something as important as our quest for the meaning of our existence is bound up with consumer culture, then a solution which simply advocates dropping our habits is doomed to failure. (Grušovnik, 2012, p. 102)

This approach assumes individuals are passive recipients of consumer culture, and does not take account of those who have become active agents of conscientious consumption (Alexander, 2012) – albeit accepting the wider arguments

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that we need to address materialism and consumption more broadly (Norgaard, 1995). The hypothesis being, if we increase subjective wellbeing, people will feel less need to consume to gain an identity as they become more satisfied with their self and less concerned about how others perceive them. This is linked to the concept of self-efficacy, ‘the belief that changing our behaviours can and will make a difference’ (Carter, 2011 p. 66). What follows then, is the capacity of transformational change is increased as personal resilience and wellbeing become realised. As Carter concludes ‘it is clear that without intrinsically motivated behaviours inspired by positive emotions, we will not make the progress necessary to overcome and ameliorate the multitude of environmental crises in motion today’ (2011, p. 68). Relational Wellbeing I have argued that a focus on wellbeing is essential for the transformation needed in the face of global injustices and environmental crisis. The issues discussed above, arguably, are mainly relevant to affluent nations in the global north. The systems that influence behaviour in the global north, however, are the same systems which generate global inequalities. These systems impact the capabilities of individuals to function in society, with marginalised groups having to negotiate their place in the face of multiple inequalities (Nussbaum, 2011). Those in low and middle income countries are, arguably, least likely to be contributing to the circumstances that require the need for transformation: they may have few if any choices; little opportunity for consumption; and less likely to be contributing to environmental degradation. They may however, offer an understanding and experience of connectedness to each other and nature that could inform the kind of wellbeing needed for transformation, and the kind of transformation that is needed for wellbeing. Understanding wellbeing from multiple perspectives is therefore important if we are to overcome, and not reinforce these inequalities. Dominant cultural norms and values of Western societies not only create a specific way of living that exceeds planetary boundaries but are among the key causes of humanitarian and environmental injustice that span the globe (Waddock, 2015, 2016; Carlisle et al., 2009). A critique of this Western dominance provides common ground on which ‘a broad, multi-disciplinary and culturally-informed focus on wellbeing is necessary because it promotes awareness of how certain aspects of “modern” life not only widen inequalities on a global scale but now represent a growing threat to the physical environment on which humanity and many other forms of life depend’ (Carlisle et al., 2009, p. 1557). There is little denying that ‘Western societies need to reconsider some of their deeply-held assumptions about how we should live’ (Carlisle et al., 2009, p. 1559).

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Such assumptions include definitions of wellbeing. We need to shift away from the dominance of an individualised understanding of humanity’s pursuit of happiness, and focus on relational and collective responsibility for the wellbeing of people and planet. Spiller et al. (2011) identify not one but five ‘wellbeings’, comprising: spiritual, cultural, social, environmental and economic. These collectively advocate a relational view of the world, in which wellbeing is consciously created, through a narrative of empathy, respect and an ethic of care that is deeply embedded in traditional wisdom. The inclusion of indigenous concepts such as the Latin American concept of buen vivir (living well together; see Biedenweg and Trimbach, Chapter 16 this volume) into policy (White, 2017) or mauri ora (a Maori concept meaning wellbeing that is consciously created) into business ethics (Spiller et al., 2011), recognise not just the rights of indigenous people and marginalised groups, but also the rights of the natural world. Relational wellbeing represents the first phase of transformation through the ‘transformation of consciousness’ (Spiller et al., 2011). This transformation of consciousness, however, needs to involve the capacity to recognise and respect difference. Creating relational wellbeing, ‘is to be awake to the reality of a situation, and to relationships. This conscious awareness includes consideration of context precedence, interrelationships, consequences, perspectives and importantly, value how these are applied’ (Spiller et al., 2011, p. 166). As Kegan (1994, p. 344) argues it is not about replacing one ideology with another, but about ‘finding ways to learn, work, solve problems together that leaves each culture’s distinctiveness, wholeness and dignity still standing’. Using a relational understanding, wellbeing can become a co-evolving process of transformation, not an outcome. It provides both the narrative and framework for the personal and practical transformation needed. At a personal level, adopting a relational understanding means wellbeing is no longer individualised, but consciously created as a collective, supportive and empathetic process. A relational approach means we internalise not only our relationship with each other, but also with nature. This is important for effecting change because when we consider things as being a part of us we take more responsibility for them (Helene and Hirvilammi, 2015). Through setting out the human–environment interdependencies of wellbeing, a relational approach provides an understanding of how things are interconnected. This is important because it demonstrates how systems thinking is a part of transformation. At a practical level, we still try to achieve sustainability within an economic box; leading at best to incremental change or reform. Relational wellbeing provides a basis for transformation, starting with the question ‘is it an economic box’? Relational wellbeing can help guide the process of transformation through a shift in worldview from one which puts the economy at the top of the hierarchy, and sees nature predominantly as a resource base for human con-

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sumption, to a relational worldview that sees human actions as being dependent on ecosystems. Within a relational framework there are no hierarchies, only interdependencies. This will help move towards sustainability because all aspects of society, economy, and environment must co-exist on an equal basis; each must flourish without causing detriment to the other. Removing the hierarchy will ground future research ‘in a balanced and responsible human-nature relationship’ (Helene and Hirvilammi, 2015, p. 170).

CONCLUSION: WE NEED WELLBEING TO SAVE THE PLANET We are faced with challenges on global proportions that require fundamental changes to systems, processes, narrative and behaviours. The Brundtland Report (WCED, 1987, p. 8) recognised the need for an interdisciplinary and integrated approach to global concerns, arguing that ‘wellbeing is the ultimate goal of all environment and development policies’. In this chapter I have argued that wellbeing plays a fundamental role, not as an outcome – the goal of change – but as part of the co-evolution of the transformational change that is needed to address global challenges. A barrier to transformation exists where wellbeing is low. This emerges for three main reasons. First transformation requires imagination and creativity and the freedom and cognitive capacity to think differently. Low subjective wellbeing, however, does not provide space for deep thinking and imagination, which is essential for transformative change. This is because those with low subjective wellbeing are required to address many other, more immediate issues and concerns. Second, change and its associated uncertainties can be viewed as a threat to current wellbeing. Where wellbeing is low and the risks of change are seen as greater than the risk of the status quo, this can result in inertia and resistance to change. Third, low subjective wellbeing can result in a lack of confidence or low self-esteem and lack of a feeling of control, resulting in a limited sense of being able to make a difference, being afraid of trying something new, and fear of failure. A barrier to transformation also exists where wellbeing is individualised. First, because this places responsibility for wellbeing onto the individual. This creates new risks of wellbeing inequalities where the environments, systems and processes contributing to, and resources to alleviate, wellbeing are unequally distributed. Second, because this narrows the focus on to humanity’s wellbeing at the expense of the wellbeing of the environment. This creates the scenario, as Kjell (2011, p. 256) explains, where development that ‘meets the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs’ (citing Brundtland, 1987), can be interpreted as ‘exploit

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as much as desired without infringing on future ability to exploit as much as desired’ (citing Vucetich and Nelson, 2010, p. 450). Adopting a relational understanding of wellbeing facilitates the conditions for transformative change. Defining progress and success as an integration of the wellbeing of the planet and people, provides the framework for a new external narrative for how systems should form and work, and an internal narrative that enables people to become emotionally alert to, and capable of, transformative change. However, the mental burden of dealing with the complexities of modern life leave most people already feeling ‘in over their heads’ (Kegan, 1994, p. 335). Achieving the next level of consciousness needed for transformation is something few people are yet able to do (Kegan, 1994, p. 321). Transformation will therefore be achieved through the co-evolution of wellbeing enacted from two perspectives: first, a few thought leaders high in cognitive capacity and wellbeing (systems-thinking and futures conscious) will help tread the path to transformation; second through enhanced wellbeing (confidence, self-esteem, sense of control) to facilitate sufficient first and second followers to create the critical mass and momentum needed to bring about transformative social change.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT I would like to thank Sandra Waddock and Ioan Fazey for their very helpful and constructive comments on an earlier draft of this chapter.

NOTE 1.

https://​transformationsforum​ net/​transformation/​.

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Nussbaum, M.C. (2011), Creating Capabilities: The Human Development Approach, Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press. O’Brien, K. (2012), ‘Global environmental change II: From adaptation to deliberate transformation’, Progress in Human Geography, 36, 667‒676. Reed, B. (2006), Shifting our mental model – ‘sustainability’ to regeneration. Paper submitted for the Conference: Rethinking Sustainable Construction 2005: Next Generation Green Buildings, 19‒21 September. Reed, B. (2007), ‘Shifting from “sustainability” to regeneration’, Building Research and Information, 35‒36, 674‒680. Reyes, J.A.L. (2016), ‘Exploring relationships of environmental attitudes, behaviors, and sociodemographic indicators to aspects of discourses: Analyses of International Social Survey Programme data in the Philippines’, Environmental Development and Sustainability, 18, 1575‒1599. Rotter, J.B. (1966), ‘Generalized expectations for internal vs external control of reinforcement’, Psychological Monographs, 80 (1) (Whole No 609). Sangha, K.K., L. Preece, J. Villarreal-Rosas, J.J. Kegamba, K. Paudyal, T. Warmenhoven and P.S. RamaKrishnan (2018), ‘An ecosystem service framework to evaluate indigenous and local peoples’ connections with nature’, Ecosystems Services, 31, 111‒125. Scherer, J.J., G. Lavey, R. Sullivan, G. Whitson and E. Vales (2008), ‘Whole system transformation: The consultant’s role in creating sustainable results: unleashing extraordinary performance and vitality’. Accessed 31 March 2020 from http://​ mnodn​.camp7​.org/​resources/​Documents/​2008​-March​-Consultant​-Role​-Allstate​.pdf. Schwartz, B. (2004), The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less. New York: Harper Perennial. Spiller, C., L. Erakovic, M. Henare and E. Pio (2011), ‘Relational well-being and wealth: Māori business and an ethic of care’, Journal of Business Ethics, 98, 153‒169. Thaler, R.H. and C.R. Sunstein (2008), Nudge: Improving Decisions about Health, Wealth and Happiness. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. United Nations (UN) (1992), United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change, FCCC/INFORMAL/84 GE.05-6220 (E) 200705. Paris: United Nations. United Nations (UN) (2015), Resolution adopted by the General Assembly on 25 September 2015, A/RES/70/1. Accessed 25 February 2019 from http://​www​.un​.org/​ ga/​search/​view​_doc​.asp​?symbol​=​A/​RES/​70/​1​&​Lang​=​E. Vucetich, J.A. and M.P. Nelson (2010), ‘Sustainability: Virtuous or vulgar?’, Bioscience, 60, 539‒544. Waddock, S. (2015), ‘Reflections: Intellectual shamans, sensemaking, and memes in large system change’, Journal of Change Management, 15 (4), 259‒273. Waddock, S. (2016), ‘Foundational memes for a new narrative about the role of business in society’, Humanist Management Journal, 1 (1), 91‒106. Washington, H. (2015), Demystifying Sustainability: Towards Real Solutions. London: Routledge. White, S. (2017), ‘Relational wellbeing: Re-centring the politics of happiness, policy and the self’, Policy and Politics, 45 (2), 121‒136. WHO (2018), COP24 Special Report: Health and Climate Change, Geneva: World Health Organization. WHO (2020), WHO Director General’s opening remarks at the media briefing on COVID-19 – 1 April 2020. Accessed 2 April 2020 from https://​www​.who​.int/​dg/​

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speeches/​detail/​who​-director​-general​-s​-opening​-remarks​-at​-the​-media​-briefing​-on​ -covid​-19​-​-​-1​-april​-2020. World Commission on Environment and Development (WCED) (1987), Our Common Future. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Index Balmer, A. S. 40 Bartram, D. 236 Becci, I. 159 Beekers, D. 152 being Muslim 150, 154, 155, 159 illegitimacy of 158 Ben-Asher, S. 131 Betz, W. 238 Bhutan Gross National Happiness (GNH) 7, 272–4 Multi-dimensional Poverty Index (MPI) 272, 273, 280 wellbeing approach 272–4 Biedenweg, K. 15, 230 biographical research 70–71, 73, 77, 81 biographies 70–71, 74–6, 80 biological conservation see conservation Bock, B. 13, 109 Bokek-Cohen, Y.A. 131 Boles, I. 97 Borraz, F. 242 bounded rationality 288 Bourdieu, P., habitus concept 72, 74 Brown, N.J.L. 86 ‘Brundtland Report’ 285–6, 296 budgetary policy 272–81 Burchardt, M. 159 Butler, J. 44

access 209–12, 219, 220 Actif Woods Wales (AWW) 222–3 case study 213–15 impacts on self-reported wellbeing 217–19 Act of Parliament in France (2015) 275 Act on Housing Subsidies in Luxembourg (1979) 190–95 adolescence 106 adolescents 164–6 urban happiness for accessibility 175–6 in commercial areas 173 environmental quality 174, 176–7 everyday experiences 170–79 happy places 170–78 living environments 175–6 in parks and streets 171–3 safety perception 174, 176 adulthood transitions 78 affordable housing 185–98, 200–202 affordable rentals 192–3 agency 129, 130, 140 Ahmed, S. 30, 32, 34, 35, 37, 38 Ajzen’s theory of planned behaviour 293 Akay, A. 239, 240 Alexandrova, A. 12 Alfaro-Simmonds, M.J. 14, 106 alienation 54–9 Alkire, S. 271, 272, 280 Alright? wellbeing campaign 96 Althusser, L. 55 anxiety 75 Archer, M. 70 Assistant Government Agent (AGA) office 138 Atkinson, S. 7, 11, 12, 216, 229 Australia, wellbeing approach 274–5 AWW see Actif Woods Wales (AWW) Azmi, F. 108

CA see capabilities approach (CA) Callard, F. 39, 40 Cameron, D. 276 capabilities 26, 271 capabilities approach (CA) 60, 129–30, 250, 251, 271–2, 275, 280 capital 60–61 capitalism 52–9, 61, 62, 89, 92 capitalist realism 89 capitalocentrism 89, 92, 93 carbon emission effects 276 301

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Cárdenas, M. 241, 242 care 95–7 caring 31–2 Carter, D.M. 290, 294 categorical imperative 63 Cesari, J. 151 children 106, 164–6 urban happiness for accessibility 175–6 in commercial areas 171, 173 environmental quality 174, 176–8 everyday experiences 170–79 happy places 170–78 living environments 175–6 in parks and streets 170–73 safety perception 174, 176 see also adolescents Christchurch’s earthquakes 95–6 Cieslik, M. 13, 26 citational practices 37–9 class 74, 78 Code, L. 31 cognitive capacity 288–9, 291 commons 96–7 community economies 26, 88, 91 of care 95–7 Christchurch’s earthquakes and 95–8 defined 91 key concerns of 91 and wellbeing 91–4 community wellbeing 216 confidence 292 conscious life activity 55–6, 59 conservation 247, 249, 250, 261 case of buen vivir 251–3 and development 251–3 human wellbeing 251–3 see also development consumption 250, 292–4 contemplation room 158–9 Correa, Rafael 252 cost–benefit analysis 189, 277, 278, 281 cost effectiveness analysis 278, 279 creative thinking 288 see also systems thinking creativity 44 D’Arcus, B. 152

Deaton, A. 230 De Koster, W. 158 de-pillarisation 155 development 249–50, 261 case of buen vivir 251–3 human wellbeing 251–3 discrimination 38 diverse economies 89, 91 see also community economies diversity 158, 160 Dombroski, K. 13, 25, 27, 269 dominant narratives 289–90 Dora, D. 152 Doyal, L. 60 Driver-Pressure-Stressor-Impac t-Response (DPSIR) model 254, 255 dualistic thinking 43 Dutch 155 Easterlin paradox 52, 87 Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts (Marx) 51, 54–9 economic welfare 268, 269 ecosystem restoration 253–8 ecosystem services 253 integration 253–5 monitoring 255–8 Ecuador’s buen vivir 7, 167, 231, 248, 260, 295 conservation and development 251–3 endogenous strategy 252 Edirisinghe, A. 141 Eifler, C. 131 Elliott, I. 31 Elliott, S.J. 14 Elsinga, M. 187 emotional governance 3 emotional wellbeing 144, 242 emotions 10, 11, 32, 80–81 negative 290–91 and wellbeing 75, 80–81 empathy 104, 105 environmental health 258–9 environmental management 247, 253, 254 environmental quality 176–7 epistemology 26, 38, 43–5 feminist 32, 34, 35

Index

of situatedness 33–4 ethnic diversity 238–40 ethnicity 132, 134, 135 eudaemonic wellbeing 270 eudaimonia 6, 71 eudaimonic approach 93 European Union, immigration in 238, 240 evaluative wellbeing 270 everyday experiences 168–79 Ewen, S. 87 exchange value 58, 61 exclusion 38, 149, 152, 155–7 families, impact of immigration on 241–3 Fazeeha, A. 13 feminism 34, 135 feminist epistemology 32, 34, 45 feminist theory 30, 42 Ferraro, E. 10 Fisher, M. 93 Fitzgerald, D. 39, 40 flow 115, 116, 120 Foster, J. 271, 272, 280 France, wellbeing approach 275–6 Fraser, N. 61 Fredrickson, B.L. 86 freedom 56 Freeman, C. 165 Frijters, P. 3 Frumkin, H. 258, 259 Furedi, F. 70 Gapfiller 96–7 Gawande, A. 208 GDP see gross domestic product (GDP) gender 74, 78 inequalities 79 in post-conflict societies 131–2 relations 131, 133 roles 131, 133 Gergen, K.J. 7 Germany, immigration in 239, 240 Gibson-Graham, J.K. 17, 26, 42–4, 60, 88, 89, 92, 93, 95–6 Gifford, S.M. 148 Gittins, H. 14, 108 global challenges 285–6

303

GNH see Gross National Happiness (GNH) Goffman, E. 70 Good Lives Model of Rehabilitation 108, 110 Górczyńska-Angiulli, M. 14, 107 Gough, I. 60 Graham, C. 167 Greed, C. 160 greenspace 209, 210, 212, 213, 231 Grimes, A. 15, 230 Groningen’s young Muslims 154–61 gross domestic product (GDP) 52, 53, 84–5, 92 and wellbeing 86–9, 93 Gross National Happiness (GNH) 7, 272–4 Grušovnik, T. 292 Gudynas, E. 251 Guillen-Royo, M. 87 Gunawardane, C.P. 133 habitus 71–2, 74 Handrahan, L. 132 Hanisch, C. 31 happiness 9–12, 92, 93, 164, 166, 230 biographical and qualitative research 70–71, 81 case study 76–7, 79–81 defined 70–71 of hosting populations, immigration impact 238–40, 243 of immigrants 235–8 impact of ethnic diversity on 238–40 impact of immigration on 238–40 Latin American emigration 236, 237 six drivers 278 urban see urban happiness, for children and adolescents see also wellbeing Happiness Impact Assessment Score (HIAS) 278 Happiness-Years (HAPYs) 278 Haraway, D. 33–4 Havlíček, T. 152 HDI see Human Development Index (HDI) health 187 benefits 259, 260 defined 258

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and nature 208–10 nature based interventions (NBIs) for 211–13 and wellbeing 212, 213, 216, 219 health psychology 215–17 healthy ecosystem 247 Healthy Parks, Healthy People (HPHP) programmes 259–61 Healy, S. 44 hedonia 6, 71 hedonic wellbeing 270 Hegel, G.W.F. 55 Hendriks, M. 14, 230, 236, 237, 241 HIAS see Happiness Impact Assessment Score (HIAS) hierarchy of needs 60 The High Price of Materialism (Kasser) 88 hijab 151, 153 Hochschild, A. 70, 80 Hoffmann, N. 98 Holmes, M. 11 housing 187–9 access to land 200 Act on Housing Subsidies (1979) 191–5 affordable 185–98, 200–202 cost 187, 189, 197 future research 202 inclusionary policies 200 location and access to 197 rents 195–6 residential features 197 and social mix 194, 196, 199–201 and wellbeing 187–9, 201–2 housing inequalities 199 in Luxembourg 107 and wellbeing 185–6 housing policies in Luxembourg 191–5, 201 practice 195–200 and wellbeing 189–91 housing stakeholders 195–200 Howley, P. 238–40 HPHP programmes see Healthy Parks, Healthy People (HPHP) programmes Human Development Index (HDI) 52, 85, 92, 237, 250, 271 human flourishing 108, 112–14, 123, 124

humanity 57–8, 60 human nature 25, 51, 52, 54–61 human need 56–9 hierarchical theory of 60 human rights 279 human wellbeing 247–8, 250, 251 conversation and development 251–3 ecosystem services and 254 monitoring 255–8 Hyndman, J. 131 identity 116–23, 131–4, 142, 144 illbeing 106, 108, 149 see also wellbeing (il)legitimacy 158 immateriality 151 (im)materiality 158 immigrants benefits 235–6, 243 happiness of 235–8 life conditions 237 negative effect 236, 238 population 238–9 positive effect for 238 immigration 234 and ethnic diversity 239–40 in European Union 238, 240 in Germany 239, 240 and happiness of hosting populations 238–40, 243 impact on families and others 241–3 and life satisfaction of natives 238, 239 policy recommendations 243 in United Kingdom 238–9 inclusion 34–6, 151–2, 155, 158 citational practices 38 invisibility and 153 legitimacy and 153–4 social 149 visibility and 152–3 and wellbeing 158–60 see also exclusion inclusionary housing policies 200 inclusive wellbeing 7–8, 27 inequalities class 74 gender 79 housing 107, 185–6, 199

Index

wellbeing 5, 10, 270, 284, 296 Integrated Conceptual Model for Ecosystem Recovery 256 intentional decisions 40 interdisciplinarity 36–41 international migration 235, 243 Interpretative Phenomenological Analysis (IPA) 134–5 invisibility 156–8 Islam 149, 153–5 Islamic spaces 155 Islamophobia 155–6 Ivlevs, A. 239, 241–2 Jacoby, A. 148 Johnson, A.M. 151, 154 Jones, R. 242–3 Kabeer, N., transformative agency 130 Kant, I., categorical imperative 63 Kapinga, L. 13, 109 Kasser, T. 88 Kegan, R. 295 Kimmerer, R.W. 87 Klingorová, K. 152 knowledge 33–5, 41–5 practices 8–12 Kuroki, M. 239 Kuznets, S. 85, 92 Kyttä, A.M. 165 Laatikainen, T.E. 165 labour 55–6 Lasch, C. 70 Latin America 166 emigration 236 happiness 167, 169 Latouche, S. 85 Layard, R. 69, 70, 279 Lefebvre, H. 148, 151 legitimacy 153–8 legitimate invisibility 156 Leopold, D. 57, 60 Liberation Tigers of Tamil Ealam (LTTE) 132, 134 life integration 104, 105 Life in Vacant Spaces (LiVS) 96–7 life satisfaction 187, 188, 238, 239, 279 Lima, children and adolescents in

305

everyday experiences 170–79 happiness 169–70 happy places 170–78 literature review 238, 243 Living Standards Framework (LSF) 279–80 LiVS see Life in Vacant Spaces (LiVS) Lombardo, T. 290–91, 293 Longhi, S. 239 longitudinal study, of wellbeing in prison 113–23 Lorde, A. 29, 39 Losada, M.F. 86 LSF see Living Standards Framework (LSF) LTTE see Liberation Tigers of Tamil Ealam (LTTE) Luxembourg 186 Act on Housing Subsidies (1979) 190–95 affordable housing 192–4 affordable rentals 192–3 housing inequalities in 107 Housing Pact 1.0 191, 192 Housing Pact 2.0 194, 200 housing policy in 191–5, 201 subsidized housing in 192 wellbeing and housing in legal documents in 191–5 Machline, E. 14, 107 Maliene, V. 187 Mallon, S. 31 Martínez-Ariño, J. 161 Marx, K. alienation 54–9 Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts 51, 54–9 human nature or species being 25, 51, 54–61 human need, use value and 57–9 productive life activity 57–9 wellbeing 51–2, 57, 59 implications and limitations 59–62 materiality of place 151–2, 155 material wellbeing 129, 130, 137–40 Matthews, G. 232 mauri ora 295 Maussen, M. 154

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Max-Neef’s threshold hypothesis 87 McClymont, K. 160 McKenzie, J. 11 McMindfulness (Purser) 54 Measures of Australian Progress 274, 275 mental health 111, 207–10, 217–21, 242 mental wellbeing 144, 218, 219 Metz, T. 98 migration 230, 234–5, 243 Miles, R. 151 Mill, J.S. 270 mixed methods approach 215–17, 222 modernization 249–50 Mol, A. 38, 41, 42 Morris, J. 212 Morrison, V. 14, 108 MPI see Multi-dimensional Poverty Index (MPI) Mulliner, E. 187 Multi-dimensional Poverty Index (MPI) 271–3, 280 multidisciplinary approach 215–17 Muslims 151–3, 155 visibility 155–7 Muslim women 133, 151, 154 national parks 261 National Program for Happiness and Positivity (NPHP) 278 nature 216 health benefits 209, 210 and wellbeing research 208–11 nature-based interventions (NBIs) 108, 208, 211–14, 222–3 impact on wellbeing 220–21 neo-classical assumptions 88 neo-classical economics 92 New Zealand 230 wellbeing approach 279–80 niche 116, 118–20, 123 Nordhaus, W. 269 Nussbaum, M. 60, 271 objective wellbeing (OWB) 9, 130, 139, 166 O’Brien, K. 287 O’Connor, K.J. 238, 240 Ong, R. 189

ontology 26, 43, 44 organisational change 287 OWB see objective wellbeing (OWB) PADHI see Psychological Assessment of Development and Humanitarian Intervention (PADHI) Pannilage, U. 133 Papageorgiou, A. 238, 240 parks and streets 171–3 path-dependence 290 perceived behavioural control 293 personal wellbeing 208, 217, 218 Pettinato, S. 167 phenomenology 135 Phillips, D. 153, 158 physical health 207, 208, 217–19 physical needs 57, 59 physical wellbeing 144 Pigou, A. 268–9 place 10, 148–9, 156–7 Islamic 153, 155 legitimacy of 153–4 materiality of 151–2 for prayer 158–9 for religion 159–61 visibility in 152–3 policy 3–5 positive identity 119–23 positive prison 112 positive psychology 112–13 positivity 104, 105 post-capitalism 86 post-conflict societies, gender in 131–2 postsecular planning 160–61 post-truth era 41–2 power 35 practices 9, 10 prayer place 158–60 prisoners approach strategies 118, 120 avoidant strategies 118–20 coping strategies 119, 123 daily routines 114–16 dehumanising experiences 117 identities 116–23 niche 116, 118–20 personal experiences 108 positive emotions 114–16, 119–21, 123

Index

relationships with staff 117, 124 social bubbles 117–22 social relationships 116, 118, 121 prisons 108, 123–4 adaptation to imprisonment in 122–3 longitudinal study of wellbeing in 113–23 pervasive control 116 wellbeing in 111–14 defining a bubble 115–16 feeling human 116–19, 122–3 maintaining a positive identity 119–23 smooth sentence 114–15, 120, 122 productive life activity 57–9 protected areas (PAs) 250 psychoanalytical concepts 80–81 Psychological Assessment of Development and Humanitarian Intervention (PADHI) 130–31, 135 psychological research 4 psychological wellbeing 144 psycho-social measures 218, 219 public health 258–9 see also environmental health public policy capabilities approach 271–2 utilitarian approach 269–70 Puget Sound Partnership 231, 255–8, 260 Purser, R., McMindfulness 54 Pykett, J. 1, 12, 68 QoL see quality of life (QoL) qualitative research 70–71, 77, 79, 81, 134 qualitative study 214–16 quality of life (QoL) 6, 166, 168 queer tools for wellbeing research 32–3 creativity in 44 interdisciplinarity 36–41 ontology and epistemology 44–5 power and inclusion 34–6 truthfulness in 41–2 Radermacher, M. 151 Rajasingham-Senanayake, D. 133 Rawls’ theory of ‘justice as fairness’ 62

307

Reed, B. 286 reflexivity/agency 72, 74, 75 regenerative systems 286 rehabilitation 112, 123, 124 Reid, L. 44, 149, 160, 216 relational property 98 relational wellbeing 6, 10–12, 16, 25, 130, 137, 141–4, 289, 294–6 religion 109, 149–50, 152, 154–5, 158, 159 place for 159–61 post-secular definition of 160 re-marriage 141–2 remittances 241–2 rents 195–6 research 16–17 wellbeing see wellbeing research residential satisfaction 187–8 resilience 37 resources 130, 137–40 Rosa, H. 27 Rostow, W.W. 88 Rotter, J.B. 292 Rowley, S. 189 safety perception 176 Salnikova, M. 152 Sampson, R. 148, 149 Sarmiento Barletti, J.P. 10 Sayer, A. 70 Scherer, J.J. 287 Schopenhauer, A. 118 Schumacher, F. 231, 232 Schwartz, B. 292 Scotland, wellbeing framework 276 Searle, B.A. 15, 69, 231 Seifert, R. 131 Sekulova, F. 87 self-efficacy 294 self-esteem 292, 293 self-rated health 219 self-reported wellbeing 217–19 Sen, A. 93 capabilities approach 60, 129–30, 271–2, 275, 280 wellbeing concept 135 sense of control 293 SES see social ecological systems (SES) Shinebourne, P. 135

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Short Warwick and Edinburgh Mental Well-being Scale (SWEMWBS) 217–18, 222 Simpson, N.B. 238 Singh, R. 12 Sinhalese women 133 Smith, J.A. 135 Smith, T. 13, 25, 27, 269 Smith, T.S.J. 44, 149, 160, 216 smooth sentence 114–15, 120, 122 social bubbles 117–22 social ecological systems (SES) 254–6 social equality 6 social geography 215–17 social housing 195–7, 202 social inclusion 149 social mix 194, 196, 199–201 social needs 57, 58 social networks 73 Social Rental Agency 192–3, 195–6, 200 social rentals 195–6 social research 3–5, 15 social wellbeing 107 South Australia, HPHP programmes 259–61 species being 51, 52, 54–60 Spiller, C. 295 Sri Lanka access to properties during and after war 137–40 civil war in 132–3 conflict history 132 ethnicities 132, 134, 135 gender and conflict 133 war widows see war widows wellbeing 108, 133, 135, 136 women in war 132–3 SSF Commission report see Stiglitz– Sen–Fitoussi Commission (SSF) report Staeheli, L.A. 153 Stiglitz, J. 232 Stiglitz–Sen–Fitoussi (SSF) Commission report 230, 271 subjective wellbeing (SWB) 5, 6, 9, 10, 53, 130, 139–41, 166, 235, 238, 270, 277, 278, 292, 294 for transformation 292–4, 296 Sullivan, R. 287 surplus value 58, 60, 61

surviving well together 25, 27, 86, 89–98 sustainability 286 sustainable development 277, 286 sustainable housing 193–4 affordability 187 SWB see subjective wellbeing (SWB) SWEMWBS see Short Warwick and Edinburgh Mental Well-being Scale (SWEMWBS) systems intelligence 288 systems thinking 288–9 Tamil women 132–3 Tamimi Arab, P. 152 Tartarini, F. 13, 108 Thin, N. 10, 13, 167 Thompson, M.J. 51 Tobin, J. 269 total welfare 268–9 transformation barrier to 296 co-evolution of 291–7 of consciousness 295, 297 meanings and definitions 287 subjective wellbeing for 292–4, 296 systems 287–91 transformative agency 130 transitions to adulthood 78 Treasury Wellbeing Framework, Australia 274–5 Trimbach, D.J. 15, 230 Tronto, J.C. 98 truthfulness 41–2 Tuan, Y.F. 168 United Arab Emirates (UAE) human rights in 279 wellbeing approach 277–81 United Kingdom (UK) immigration in 238–9 wellbeing framework 276 United States (US), immigrant population 239 unproductive labour 58 urban happiness, for children and adolescents accessibility 175–6 in commercial areas 171, 173 environmental quality 174, 176–8

Index

everyday experiences 168–79 happy places 170–78 Lima 169–70 living environments 175–6 in parks and streets 170–73 safety perception 174, 176 urban planning 106 urban spaces 106, 164–5, 168, 170, 171, 174–9 urban wellbeing 96–7 use value 26, 52, 57–62 utilitarian approach 269–70, 277, 278 utilitarianism 53 Veenhoven, R. 69, 70 Veliziotis, M. 239 visibility Muslim 155–7 in places 152–3, 155 Vital Sign indicators 255, 256 Waddock, S. 43, 289, 292 wage labour 56, 59, 61 Wales 213–14, 223 wellbeing approach 276–7 Wangchuck, J.S. 272 Waring, M. 269 Wartenberg, T.E. 55 war widows in Sri Lanka 129, 132–4 challenges 140–42 and children’s education 137–9 community participation 143–4 competence and self-worth 140–41 cultural barriers 139, 141 economic security for 138 education for 140 exploitation to 139 husband’s pensions for 138 identities 142, 144 job for 138, 140 language barrier 139 mobilization strategy 143 NGO’s programme 143 participation 142–3 personal experiences 134–40 re-marriage 141–2 sense of power 143 social connections 141–2 societal expectations 142

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wellbeing 136–7 material 129, 130, 137–40 physical 144 psychological 144 relational 130, 137, 141–4 subjective 130, 140–41 Watkins, F. 148 Watson, D. 12, 25 wellbeing 2, 31, 32, 39, 40, 43–4, 129, 148–9, 154, 156–7, 166 Alright? campaign 96 biographical and qualitative research 70–71, 77, 81 budget of New Zealand 279 capabilities approach 271–2 and capitalism 52–4 care for Christchurch’s earthquakes 95–7 case study 73–81 co-evolution of transformation and 291–6 community economies and 91–4 crisis in prison 111–13 defined 9, 10, 70–71, 130, 230, 268–9 dimensions of 9 economics 269 effect of human rights on 279 emotion and 75, 80–81 fragile 76–7 GDP and 86–9, 92 as habitus 71–2 health and 212–13, 216, 219 housing and 187–9, 201–2 housing inequalities and 185–6 and housing in legal documents 191–5 housing policies and 189–91 in Luxembourg 190–91 human see human wellbeing inclusion and 152, 158–60 inequalities 5, 10, 270, 284, 296 for informed policy-making 229–32 knowledge 33, 41, 42 practices 8–12 Marx, K. 51–2, 57, 59–62 measures 8, 230 mental health and 95 money for 136–7

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nature based interventions (NBIs) and 211–13, 220–21 objective 9, 130, 139, 166 personal 208, 217, 218 policies 278 political struggle for 11 in practice 104–9 in prisons see prisons: wellbeing in psychological research 4 radical possibilities of 23–7 relational 6, 10–12, 16, 289, 294–6 self-reported 217–19 as social phenomenon 10 Sri Lanka 108 subjective see subjective wellbeing (SWB) sustainable development 277 three features of 104–5 transforming systems of 287–91 trauma and coping strategies on 79–81 urban 96–7 utilitarian approach 269–70, 277, 278 in wartime 137 war widows see war widows in Sri Lanka working class women 73–81 see also happiness wellbeing approaches Australia 274–5 Bhutan 272–4 to budgetary policy 272–81 feature of 277 France 275–6

New Zealand 279–80 United Arab Emirates (UAE) 277–81 Wales 276–7 wellbeing frameworks 271–80 Wellbeing in Developing (WeD) countries approach 130 Well-being of Future Generations (Wales) Act 2015 276–7 wellbeing research 15–18, 165 methods, metrics and definitions 5–8 nature and 209–11 and policy 3–5 queer tools for see queer tools for wellbeing research White, S.C. 11, 98, 149 Wijesinghe, D. 141 Witten, K. 149 women in Sri Lanka’s war 133–4 woodlands 213, 214, 217, 219–22 Woodland Trust (WT) 214–15, 222 working class habitus 74 working class women disadvantage 78, 79 wellbeing 73–81 World Happiness Report 92 WT see Woodland Trust (WT) Wynne-Jones, S. 14, 108 young Muslims 109, 152–4 practices and experiences in Groningen 154–61 Zielke, J. 12, 17, 26