Inspired by and with credit to Kwame Anthony Appiah’s New York Times article, “Our Idea of Happiness Has Gotten Shallow. Here’s How to Deepen It” (May 3, 2025).
What does it really mean to be happy?
In his thoughtful New York Times essay, “Our Idea of Happiness Has Gotten Shallow. Here’s How to Deepen It,” philosopher Kwame Anthony Appiah explores how our modern culture has reduced happiness to a fleeting feeling—one that is often curated, optimized, and filtered through the lens of consumerism, algorithms, and self-help slogans. He traces how the classical understanding of happiness, once rooted in virtue, justice, and community, has eroded into a personal pursuit of pleasure and performance. Yet, he argues, a richer, more ethical version of happiness still exists—grounded not in what we have, but in what we give, who we’re with, and how we live in connection with others.
This reflection has profound implications for the legal profession—particularly for those of us working in divorce and family law.
Too often, the legal process of separation mirrors the same hollowed-out concept of happiness that Appiah critiques: a transactional race for assets, custody schedules, and quick resolution. Clients sometimes arrive with a vision of “winning” their divorce, equating happiness with freedom, revenge, or financial gain. As lawyers, we can fall into the trap of serving this version of happiness—efficient, outcome-driven, but ultimately disconnected from what people truly need to rebuild meaningful lives.
But what if our work as divorce lawyers could be part of a deeper, more restorative model of happiness?
We see our clients at one of the most vulnerable and emotionally charged moments of their lives. The way we guide them—toward collaboration or conflict, dignity or division—can shape not only the legal outcome, but the emotional and ethical foundation of their post-divorce lives. By prioritizing empathy, encouraging cooperative parenting, supporting fair outcomes, and helping clients redefine their goals through the lens of long-term well-being, we can help them rediscover a form of happiness rooted in integrity, connection, and personal growth.
Appiah suggests that happiness is not just a matter of chasing excitement or achieving external success, but about living into shared commitments, making room for pluralism, and contributing to something larger than oneself. That insight resonates deeply with the best of what family law can offer. Whether we are mediating, negotiating, or litigating, we have an opportunity to support not just legal closure, but personal transformation.
Happiness isn’t a quick fix or a perfect settlement—it’s the shared, often difficult work of helping people move from loss to renewal, from fragmentation to stability. At its highest calling, our profession doesn’t just end marriages—it helps families begin again with purpose, care, and hope.
