One of my favorite books, “Fahrenheit 451” by Ray Bradbury, portrays a government that has created an illusion of happiness by eradicating anything that may lead the people to discomfort or self-reflection, such as books and intellectual discourse. These people are told that ignorance is bliss and that knowledge brings nothing but pain or suffering; they are taught to pursue manufactured “happiness” by avoiding discomfort and seemingly escaping the obstructive complexities of life. Recently, I’ve found myself wondering: Would it be so terrible to live in avoidance of uncomfortable knowledge? Is it possible to procure genuine satisfaction from an illusion of happiness?
Before coming to Andover, I honestly thought that I was pretty competent — I was used to breezing through classes and tests and winning some accolades here and there. I wasn’t used to struggling academically, and so not doing the best on my first chem test, getting a less-than-desirable grade on a history assignment all became hits to my confidence in the beginning of the school year. Sometimes, despite the fact that my days were perpetually packed with schoolwork and extracurriculars, there nagged a quiet, obstinate sense of emptiness I couldn’t quite shake, so I’d just end up distracting myself with endless media at night, scrolling through social media feeds, or binge-watching shows that required little emotional investment. For a while, I thought I felt genuinely happy, or at the very least content, because I was working hard and covering up anything that could “force” me to be miserable. But one night after four hours of scrolling endlessly on social media, I found myself awake but not quite alive — just existing and unaware — at three in the morning. It was then that I realized with a cold rush of reality that I was just seeking a superficial fix for an inner turmoil that wouldn’t go away by itself, an illusion of happiness to cover up what was really bothering me. Though this illusion didn’t feel inherently wrong, it was just an easy out, a way to momentarily soothe the discomfort of facing hard truths; it was only ever going to be temporary. This realization made me think of “Fahrenheit 451,” where characters like Mildred Montag, protagonist Guy Montag’s wife, live in a state of shallow bliss without deeper emotional and intellectual engagement with the world.
I began to wonder: is it so wrong to choose an easier, more comfortable happiness, if it means avoiding the pain of confronting life’s complexities? For some, blissful ignorance seems to lead to happiness, in one form or another. Mildred Montag, for all her superficiality, doesn’t seem to mind her lifestyle. To her, happiness implies the absence of discomfort and the presence of something else to distract her from ever going near that discomfort. But, as the novel shows, this illusion comes at a steep price: a life devoid of real connection, intellectual engagement, or true fulfillment. I realized that I didn’t want to become like the characters of “Fahrenheit 451,” like Mildred, living a life that, on the surface, might seem content, but lacked depth. But the more I thought about it the more reality struck me cold: I’d been living a sort of modern parallel to the lives of the “Fahrenheit 451” citizens, deriving a false illusion of happiness from ignoring my unhappiness. I’d been relying on external entertainment — social media, television, not much unlike Mildred’s parlor TV — to smother my struggles and discomforts rather than acknowledging them.
Yet our discomforts are ultimately a reflection of who we are, who we’ve been, and who we can become. We can never truly think to better ourselves without confronting the issues that are obstructing us from improvement in the first place. As I think back on the period of time in the beginning of the year when I was ignoring all my internal struggles, I can say I’ve experienced feelings of growth since. I now acknowledge and validate my doubts, my struggles, when they arise. I don’t merely ignore my academic battles: I go to conferences, reach out to teachers, and talk to other trusted adults about what I’m having a tough time with. I talk to others a lot more in general, confide in them, listen to them, form deeper connections with them. I choose to focus on the small wins — the quizzes, the homework, the short stories — allowing the tedious daily grind to become opportunities for growth rather than sources of frustration. I confide in the people around me when there is something incessantly bothering me and I try to find solutions to my problems rather than simply ignoring them and wishing like a child on their birthday that they’ll go away. I can say that I feel a lot more authentically happy now, even if I do have more struggles to face, I’m no longer trying to live by an illusion. So, I encourage you to think about the negative areas of your life you might be avoiding or ignoring. Which aspect of your life are you quieting in the hopes that it will assuage itself this way? Understanding and acknowledging these parts of you daily can lead you down a happier, more meaningful life. Like Mildred, we all sometimes seek the ease of superficial joy, an illusion of happiness that helps us avoid unhappiness. But by extinguishing everything that makes us uncomfortable, we also shut down the opportunities for growth. Someone who is happy is someone shaped by what they’ve done to face the things that could block them from happiness. Someone who strives to improve is someone driven by their shortcomings.
