Eudamonia is the Greek word Aristotle uses to refer to well-being, happiness, or flourishing.  If you imagine a flower with optimal soil, sufficient water supply, and the ideal weather climate for its nature, you might see it stretching toward the sun with all vibrance and joy.  This is eudamonia.  It is when something, having all of its primary needs met, is doing what it is meant to do in precisely the way it is meant to do it.

It is this kind of pleasure, and not just any satiated desire that we should think of when we think of “happiness.”  The question is, if a flower needs nutritious soil, sunshine, and water in order to achieve eudamonia, what do human beings need?  What is the human equivalent to happy flowers?

I would argue that every person has a clear notion of eudamonia, whether or not we’ve ever articulated it.  I once asked a high school student why she was studying history when she did not enjoy it.  She said that is was in order to get a good grade.  When I asked her why she wanted to have good grades, she said it was in order to go to a good college.  When I pressed further, we followed her series of desires through the following process: study is for grades, grades are for college, college is for a good job, a good job is for money, money is for stuff, and ultimately, it is stuff that makes a person happy.  In other words, she was persuaded that one should memorize facts about Shakespeare’s life in order to have a nice car in about 8 years. This is why Aristotle begins his book about ethics with the question of human happiness – our concept of happiness directly influences our actions.

Now, consider how the stories we tell revolve around happiness.  Every story contains a philosophy of eudamonia, or what it means for a human being to be “happy” in this holistic sense.  Some stories place their philosophy at the forefront (like Tolstoy’s The Two Brothers), but for most stories it is an assumption in the background.  The obstacles, achievements, and moral dilemmas within a given tale are structured around an implicit belief of what makes a happy person.

For example, the entire genre of romantic comedies tends to revolve around the notion that eudamonia is to find one’s soul mate.  Nothing else matters if you can be with the one person in the world that is meant for you.  After all, what romantic comedy could maintain its drama if the main character believed that celibacy was a viable option or that an enduring love was possible with any number of potential mates? Without ever having to state a thesis like “human happiness is _________”, each story nevertheless communicates a philosophy of eudamonia.

This is why passively absorbing narratives without philosophical reflection is incredibly dangerous to our beliefs, our actions, and our happiness.  When I binge-watch a show without pausing to reflect on its implicit notions of eudamonia, I naturally imbibe a philosophy with which I may never have agreed had it been expressly articulated to me.

It is not too difficult to reflect on the beliefs which a narrative explicitly advocates, but the ideas that will shape you, for good or for bad, are often those that are never spoken at all.