This book has offered a unique overview of the state-space of well-being. I don’t mean that as a boast but rather as a testament to the value of untranslatable words.
For all its lexical richness, the English language fails to address many aspects of life in detail, just as other languages may be lacking in some of the concepts in which English is strong. This is partly a function of the cultural contexts in which languages develop. One can therefore turn to languages other than one’s own in order to fill these semantic gaps. This means borrowing other languages’ “Fremderwörter”—“stranger-words,” my term for potential loanwords that have not yet been embraced—thereby enriching one’s lexicon.
I will substantiate and elaborate on this point in this concluding chapter. The first part summarizes the analysis so far and the cartographic theory of well-being based on it. This could be called the FRD framework of well-being, named for its three meta-categories: feelings, relationships, and development. This framework can enhance the current nomological network of constructs in fields such as PP, uncovering or emphasizing aspects of life that have been relatively overlooked.
The second part of the chapter turns from theory to practice, focusing on ways people can benefit from engaging with the words in the lexicography. I discuss approaches that might facilitate such engagement and sketch a research agenda for developing such an approach.
Throughout the book, I’ve mapped constructs pertaining to well-being that have so far not been explicitly identified in English. I’ve also tried to add signposts to this map using constructs that do exist in English, terms that serve as thematic and category labels.
As outlined in chapter 1, the way I created this map was through thematic analysis, specifically an adapted version of grounded theory. This method allows theory to emerge inductively from data,1 in this case the untranslatable words themselves, along with their various renderings and interpretations.
I began by identifying themes in the data through a process of open coding. Next I grouped these themes into categories, and the categories into three meta-categories: feelings (positive and ambivalent), relationships (love and prosociality), and development (character and spirituality). These categories and meta-categories, together with their subsidiary themes, constitute the FRD framework of well-being, depicted in figure 5.1 below.
Figure 5.1 The three meta-categories of well-being, with their subsidiary categories and themes.
Each meta-category corresponds to a fundamental dimension of well-being, which is primarily—if not exclusively—experienced through feelings, influenced by relationships, and cultivated through personal development. Of course, the boundaries between the meta-categories are not always clean. Such coding dilemmas are common in qualitative analysis; themes frequently and legitimately fit into multiple categories, and the categories themselves do not have precisely delineated boundaries.2 Even if the lines are fuzzy though, we can use the FRD schema to orient ourselves within the experiential state-space pertaining to well-being.
Before I turn to these three dimensions in turn, I will briefly summarize current PP theory on well-being. As noted in chapter 1, PP makes a foundational distinction between two main forms of well-being: hedonic, or subjective, and eudaimonic, or psychological.3 Subjective well-being is determined cognitively through judgments of life satisfaction, and through attention to affect (specifically, the ratio of positive to negative feelings). Psychological well-being is measured against more developmentally oriented criteria of autonomy, self-acceptance, relationship quality, environmental mastery, meaning in life, and psychological growth.4 I should note that other multidimensional models of well-being have also been developed. For instance, there is Martin Seligman’s PERMA model, which isolates five key domains of well-being: positive emotions, engagement, relationships, meaning, and accomplishment.5 This model is increasingly substantiated by research;6 however, the hedonic-eudaimonic distinction is better established and also continues to be tested and found useful.7
How do my categories map onto these models? There are some convergences, and some divergences. On a convergent note, my first category, positive feelings, roughly aligns with the affective component of subjective well-being, and with the positive-emotions domain of PERMA. However, my reading of positive feelings is broader, encompassing even numinous concepts well outside the scope of hedonic pleasure, such as nirvāṇa. In contrast, the second category, ambivalent feelings, does not sit easily within the above models. My third category, love, aligns broadly with Carol Ryff’s model of psychological well-being, and specifically its dimension of relationships. However, my concept of relationships is arguably wider, extending to a fourth category of prosociality. Ryff’s remaining five dimensions are then all encompassed by my fifth category of character. Finally, my sixth category, spirituality, is beyond the scope of these existing models.8 The absence of ambivalent feelings, prosociality (to an extent), and spirituality from PP’s most influential models of well-being speaks to the need for a more expansive framework of well-being. FRD aims to provide that.
This first meta-category contains concepts that describe the way well-being is experienced. This includes not only emotions, but also qualia more broadly.9 The meta-category comprises two categories, positive and ambivalent feelings.
As elucidated in chapter 2, my analysis of positively valenced feelings covered seven overlapping regions of state-space: peace and calm, contentment and satisfaction, coziness and hominess, savoring and appreciation, revelry and fun, joy and euphoria, and bliss and nirvāṇa. These seven themes are collected in figure 5.2, with sample words.
Figure 5.2 The seven main dimensions of positive feelings, with select words.
Per the granularity principle, each of these seven regions was deconstructed into smaller units through the analysis of relevant words. Many of these terms are instances of specificity-based untranslatability (see figure 1.3), in that they delineate a smaller and more precise region of state-space than that covered by the English thematic label. For instance, jouissance indicates not just joy, but often specifically the euphoria of sex. Other words are examples of overlap-based untranslatability (see figure 1.2): they and their corresponding English labels share regions of state-space (while also covering territory that is not shared). For instance, hygge arguably is not merely a type of contentment or satisfaction but an all-encompassing term that overlaps with these English constructs. Finally, in a few cases of generality-based untranslatability (see figure 1.4), the untranslatable word occupies a larger region of state-space than the English label. Smṛti is one example, encompassing a wealth of meanings, including but not limited to peace and calm.
At this point, it is worth referring to the circumplex, basic, and constructivist theories of emotion introduced in chapter 1.10 To an extent, my analysis is compatible with all of them. The positive feelings I isolate could fit within the two-dimensional state-space delineated by the circumplex model of affect, which holds that emotional states are generated by the interaction of two independent neurophysiological systems, valence and arousal.11 All the terms within this category would be located toward the pleasant side of the circumplex grid, charting feelings from passive (e.g., peace/calm) to active (e.g., joy/euphoria). At the same time, the terms could arguably be situated within Ekman’s naturalistic paradigm of basic emotions, specifically his broad spectrum of “enjoyment.”12 However, the words in this book bring greater granularity to this spectrum.
I lean toward a constructivist approach based on a milder version of the Sapir–Whorf hypothesis, which allows that there may be some universal human emotions, but that these are shaped by sociocultural contexts. Barrett’s conceptual-act model clarifies my perspective. She argues that discrete emotions emerge from a conceptual analysis of a “momentary state of core affect.”13 Core affect may be hardwired into all people, but it is also mediated by a person’s culturally influenced linguistic-conceptual schemas.
Translating Barrett’s idea into my cartographic terminology, one encounters a region of experiential state-space, and then delineates and identifies this region using the boundaries provided by one’s specific language(s). With Barrett, I contend that it is possible to refine this process of conceptual analysis and boundary-drawing and thereby develop greater emotional granularity.
Specifically, I suggest that we can so refine our conceptual analysis by engaging with untranslatable words. This is because such words delineate finer-grained regions of state-space than may be provided by the English language, and as such allow people to develop a more sensitive and detailed awareness and understanding of state-space. Later in the chapter, I will discuss potential research that might corroborate this claim.
We also encountered the category of ambivalent feelings. Perhaps contrary to expectation, well-being is not only a question of positively valenced feelings. A range of feelings blend light and dark yet are highly valued and indicative of a well-lived life. Flourishing is not always comfortable, as an emerging “second wave” of PP scholarship argues.14 I grouped the words in this category into five broad themes: hope/anticipation, longing, pathos, appreciation of imperfection, and sensitivity to mystery. These themes, and sample words, are outlined in figure 5.3 above.
Figure 5.3 The five main dimensions of ambivalent feelings, with select words.
Notably, many terms capturing ambivalent and dialectic states are found in Eastern cultures. For instance, the Chinese yīn-yáng encompasses numerous “tenets of duality.”15 Similarly, Zen artistic practices and aesthetic sensibilities can help people cultivate appreciation of dialectics. That said, I do not believe that these moods are accessible or comprehensible only to people from China or Japan. Just as people in the West increasingly engage with Buddhism,16 they may also cultivate more dialectical modes of appreciation by engaging with the ideas and phenomena in this category.
My second meta-category concerns relationships. Research suggests that relationships are the most significant factor affecting levels of happiness17 and more generally are a major influence over well-being. This meta-category comprises two categories: love and prosociality—close bonds with select others, and networks of association among people in general.
My analysis identified fourteen distinct forms of love, which were grouped into four main types. This analysis extends previous theorizing on love by Lee and Sternberg.18 As useful as these earlier models are, they are mainly restricted to love for people, and often in a romantic way specifically. They fail to account for many of the ways in which people use the term “love.” In my analysis, first, there are three nonpersonal forms of love, for experiences (meraki), objects (érōs), and places (chōros). Second, there are three nonromantic, caring forms of love, specifically for friends (philia), family (storgē), and oneself (philautia). The third main form, romantic love, breaks down into five types, including passionate (epithymia), playful/game-playing (paixnidi), possessive (mania), sensible (prâgma), and fated (anánkē). Finally, we encountered three forms of transcendent love, group-based communion (koinōnía), compassionate (agápē) and reverential (sébomai). The four main forms, together with their various sub-forms, are detailed in figure 5.4 below.
Figure 5.4 The four main forms of love, with select words.
When thinking about relationships, we also need to concern ourselves with more than close bonds. Prosociality, too, affects well-being. In understanding the importance of this category, I drew on Bakan’s contention that people have two fundamental ontological modes of being: agency and communion.19 Agency encompasses our existence as separate entities, while communion acknowledges that we are also inextricably situated within sociocultural networks.20 Words in the prosociality category reflect the significance of communion and fell into five themes: socializing and congregating, morals and ethics, compassion and kindness, interaction and communication, and communality. These themes, and sample words, are detailed in figure 5.5.
Figure 5.5 The five main dimensions of prosociality, with select words.
This category is especially significant because community is widely thought to be overlooked in Western societies. The West—to the extent that such a generalization makes sense—can be seen as broadly individualistic.21 The individualist corners of the West might therefore learn from societies that show greater appreciation of the importance of social bonds, the importance of which to well-being has already been recognized by emerging paradigms such as positive social psychology.22
That said, for reasons we have examined, we do not want to be so invested in the importance of relationships that we lose sight of the value of individuality. The second meta-category is therefore balanced by the third, which addresses the significance of personal development.
The third category of the FRD model is personal development—the cultivation of well-being through the exercise of agency. It concerns the possibility of fulfilling one’s potential by bettering oneself. As with the other two meta-categories, development comprises two categories: character and spirituality.
I understand character to be the traits and elements of personality that cultures praise and encourage among their members. This aligns with usage in PP, most notably and pertinently the VIA paradigm of character strengths.23 By analyzing foundational religious and philosophical texts, this initiative identified twenty-four qualities that different cultures have historically celebrated.24 Following on VIA’s inspiration, I sought to bring further detail to this area by focusing on concepts that are not shared—that may be unique to a particular culture. The lexicography currently features over 200 such terms, which I aggregate into five broad themes: virtue, considerateness, understanding, self-determination, and skill. These themes, and select key words, are detailed in figure 5.6.
Figure 5.6 The five main dimensions of character, with select words.
Perhaps the most important difference between FRD and VIA is that the themes I isolate, and the constructs divided among them, are not just a typology of diverse individual strengths. My five character-related themes interrelate, in that collectively they constitute integral components in the process of character development. That is, virtue, considerateness, understanding, self-determination, and skill appear to be the mechanisms which enable the person to live well and fulfill their potential.
The first character theme is virtue. Virtue is central to Aristotle’s conception of eudaimonia,25 which has greatly influenced theories of personal development in PP. This theme does not so much concern specific behaviors regarded as virtuous. Rather, the focus is on the possibility of being virtuous per se. This is closely related to the second theme, considerateness, which pertains to the question of why, in the first place, one would want to be virtuous and of good character. Considerateness involves two essential qualities: awareness of the impact of one’s actions, on others and oneself, and care for the consequences. The third theme, understanding, covers the knowledge required to be virtuous and to live well more broadly. An example is Aristotle’s golden mean, discerned through wisdom.26
Yet, considerateness and understanding are not much use if one lacks the autonomy and capacity to make choices befitting a person of good character. Thus the fourth character theme is self-determination.27 This is a matter of will and self-control, without which one cannot excel and fulfil one’s potential. Skill, the final theme, recognizes that considerateness, understanding, and self-determination can be cultivated. They are not static traits but paths along which people may grow.
Skill is also vital to the second developmental category, spirituality. This area of psychological growth corresponds to the virtue of transcendence in the VIA framework. Crucially though, in my analysis, spirituality is not just one aspect of character. I place it in a separate category because, in many cultures, it is as necessary to development as character itself; reaching the peaks of flourishing requires spiritual cultivation. I organize terms related to spirituality under three main headings: the sacred, contemplative practices, and transcendence. These themes, and select key words, are illustrated in figure 5.7.
Figure 5.7 The three main dimensions of spirituality, with select words.
The sacred has been conceptualized in diverse ways cross-culturally. Across this diversity, relevant terms fall into two main types: words signifying phenomena outside the person, such as the notion of a sacred realm, force, or beings; and words denoting a spiritual dimension inside the person, such as soul and spirit. The many traditions recognizing the idea of the sacred have also developed repertoires of contemplative practices to help people cultivate a sense of spirituality, including prayer and meditation.28 The goal of such practices, and the spiritual sensibility they foster, is self-transcendence.29 In this process, one’s conventional sense of self is perceived as being illusory or partial. Instead, one feels a part of, or identifies with, some larger sacred context.30
As with feelings and relationships, the development meta-category is derived from untranslatable words and related English-language concepts. The extent to which the model can be operationalized and actually facilitate improvements in well-being is a matter for further research. Below, I will outline an agenda for that research. But first, I’d like to reflect on limitations of my analysis, to which the research agenda is in part a response.
The most basic limitation is scope. The lexicography currently contains over 900 terms, but there are surely more among the some 7,000 languages in existence.31 The list must therefore be regarded as a small sample, albeit one that may grow. A further constraint is that, in the context of this book, there is space to discuss only around a third of the words collected so far. Even then, my analysis of the included words cannot be comprehensive. That said, by keeping word-by-word analysis relatively brief, and necessarily partial, I am able to undertake a comparative inquiry.
Those analyses I am able to perform are inevitably influenced by my cultural background and personal characteristics. Any qualitative research will suffer from such drawbacks; the researcher inevitably supplies the “filter of salience through which data are sieved.”32 But while this cannot be avoided, it can at least be addressed through a commitment toward reflexivity—that is, through understanding and disclosure of one’s situatedness.33 My own attention is affected by my longstanding interest in Buddhism. It may be further relevant that I am a white, educated, British man, born in London to a loving middle-class family of working-class background. I therefore possess privileges that could influence my analysis.34
This situatedness is not necessarily a flaw, to be corrected. There is, after all, no unbiased epistemological “view from nowhere.”35 That another person might arrive at a different selection and interpretation of words, and thereby develop an alternative theoretical position, is not a problem. Indeed, I hope that other researchers will do just this, bringing their own insights into well-being by analyzing the lexicography as their own perspectives allow.
At the same time, I do not wish to overemphasize my impact on the analysis. There are limits to reflexivity; even the lengthiest autobiographies fail to capture the near-infinity of stories and experiences that constitute a person. Indeed, as psychoanalytic theory has recognized, there is much about the person that is hidden to themselves.36 To fully account for oneself is not possible.
What matters is to give the fairest possible account. In my case, that means deriving definitions and descriptions from peer-reviewed academic publications when possible and reviewing these derivations with an advisory group of bilingual speakers. These procedures help to ensure a degree of objectivity.37 Moreover, the lexicography is a work in progress, with its contents being continually refined based on feedback.
With these limitations in mind, let us turn to the research agenda.
Further investigation will help to flesh out my proposed FRD model. I suggest a research agenda with two principal components: first, empirical data-gathering to strengthen the model; second, applied interventions to develop methods for operationalizing the model, and for harnessing the value of untranslatable words more broadly.
The empirical side of the agenda aims to improve the lexicography and by extension the cartographic map of well-being based upon it.
For a start, the lexicography should be greatly expanded, and the map thereby enriched. Thus, a primary research goal would be to investigate the many languages not yet represented in the lexicography, while continuing to research the languages already included. This process could be aided by individual online contributors, such as those who have already helped compile the current lexicography through my website.
Data-gathering could also be done more systematically. One such approach, which could be ideal for a PhD candidate, would involve in-depth, semi-structured interviews with speakers of languages currently unrepresented in the lexicography. Participants would ideally, but not necessarily, be linguists, translators, or psychologists, and would also be bilingual in English.
The first purpose of the interview would be to identify words in the interviewee’s language(s) of fluency that they deem be both untranslatable (in English) and pertinent to well-being. Interviewees would have advanced notice to think about potential words and ask others for suggestions. The researcher and participant would discuss these words in as much depth as feasible to better understand their etymology and cultural significance and to collect examples of use in context. Interviews would, as per my initial research, be analyzed using grounded theory.38 Such a project could be carried out by multiple individuals on overlapping populations, building confidence in the comprehensiveness of the lexicography and the robustness of its definitions, derivations, and interpretations.
While we use qualitative research to expand the lexicography, we might also use factor analysis to quantitatively assess its contents. This would enhance our understanding of specific words, including their internal structure. We saw an example of this sort of research with Scheibe, who created a 28-item questionnaire to isolate six dimensions of Sehnsucht.39 Such analyses can be used to develop psychometric scales pertaining to other untranslatable words, which would help to establish construct validity.40 With more such scales, we will refine the FRD framework.
This research would help us ascertain the extent to which words truly are untranslatable. Consider hygge. Psychometric analyses would facilitate an understanding of where it sits within the nomological network of existing constructs within PP. For instance, we could determine the degree of overlap with related English constructs such as coziness and contentment. Doing so would refine the FRD map of well-being.
These various scales could also be subjected to cross-cultural testing (though translating the scales is of course no simple task).41 Such testing would help us determine the extent to which people can understand and/or experience constructs that are not native to their cultures. Theorists have argued that languages borrow words in order to bridge semantic gaps; cross-cultural analyses would test this proposition. Moreover, such testing could validate my suggestion that people can cultivate an appreciation for untranslatable words and for the phenomena they refer to.
Another way to test the benefits of engagement with untranslatable words is through applied research with clinical and nonclinical populations (with an example of the latter being young people in educational settings). That is the second half of my research agenda: to design therapeutic interventions on the basis of untranslatable words.
A strong relativist might argue that an untranslatable word is truly understood only by members of the culture that created it, since outsiders would not be able fully to experience the phenomenon to which it refers.42 But I am a moderate relativist. I contend that all people can access the experiences of other cultures to some useful degree and that, furthermore, all people can learn from descriptions of untranslatable words.
There is some evidence that people can adopt words from other cultures to their own benefit. Indeed, this process is integral to language development. Recall that as much as 41 percent of the English-language vocabulary is borrowed from other languages.43 Indeed, even now, loanwords are everywhere in English and other languages, whether as a Gastwort, whose foreign provenance is explicit, a Fremdwort, which has been more thoroughly assimilated, or as a Lehnwort—a loanword proper, treated no differently than a native word.44 Thus, I argue that English speakers—and indeed speakers of all languages—can benefit from engaging with the Fremderwörter in the lexicography (i.e., the words which have not yet been borrowed).
We can systematically foster this engagement using applied initiatives of the sort that have been used to enrich children’s emotional vocabulary and granularity,45 thereby improving their behavior, academic performance, and general well-being.46 These initiatives are founded on the idea that emotional differentiation is associated with well-being. Studies suggest that people with greater differentiation are more aware of their subjectivity and so find it easier to regulate their attention and emotions, thus maintaining emotional equanimity.47
There is no reason comparable interventions could not be designed with respect to untranslatable words and offered to people of all ages. Indeed, this process has already happened with at least two words in the lexicography, smṛti and maitrī. Both have been harnessed in clinical and nonclinical settings to help people practice the qualities they denote: mindfulness and loving-kindness.48
These initiatives have implications for the debates above, particularly the issue of whether speakers can experience and understand phenomena signified by untranslatable words from other cultures. Critics have argued that the ways in which these Sanskrit terms have been conceptualized in contemporary psychology overlook some of their nuances. For instance, the calque “mindfulness” can be regarded as rather cerebral, understating smṛti’s compassionate qualities.49 That said, the association of mindfulness with cognitive theories of attention is hardly outlandish when one considers the psychological nature of many Buddhist teachings on meditation.50 For instance, the Amitayus jhana sutta instructs, “Cause your mind to be firmly fixed on [the object] so as to have an unwavering perception by the exclusive application of your mind.”51 Such language is not far removed from that of modern cognition-based interventions.
This process of adoption and adaptation speaks to another debate raised above: whether English speakers can be acquainted with a phenomenon signified by an untranslatable word.52 Evidence suggests we can. Recall that the men I researched for my PhD reported a degree of familiarity with certain Buddhist concepts even upon first encountering them. This finding aligns with research on “trait” mindfulness, which observes that people who do not practice mindfulness, and who may even be unaware of the construct, nevertheless self-report experiences and states of mind that can be identified as mindful.53
Indeed, many scholars argue that mindfulness is not particular to Eastern cultures. For instance, in 1890 William James wrote, “The faculty of voluntarily bringing back a wandering attention, over and over again, is the very root of judgment, character, and will. An education which should improve this faculty would be the education par excellence.”54
What is special about Eastern cultures is that they have created practices to engender this quality, the kind of “education” James was referring to. Teachings such as the Satipaṭṭhāna sutta show that the Buddha realized that smṛti was something his followers needed to work on, even though they were presumably familiar with the concept itself.55 The findings from my PhD research suggest people from diverse cultural contexts can also learn through this sort of practice. My research focused on the impact of masculinity norms—such as expectations that men be tough—on participants’ mental health. Many reported previously experiencing restricted emotionality: they had been socialized to disconnect from their emotions to an extent. Research indicates that this is common among men and that it is associated with mental health difficulties.56 But my interviewees explained that the cultivation of smṛti and maitrī in meditation had to a large extent empowered them to overcome their prior restricted emotionality, facilitating high-level emotional differentiation and intelligence.
Just as Kabat-Zinn and others have developed experiential and pedagogical tools to help people understand and cultivate smṛti, so too could researchers create programs to enable participants to experience and develop the qualities associated with other untranslatable terms.
This process would ideally follow standard protocol for creating behavioral interventions: a pilot study, followed by larger-scale empirical testing, randomized controlled trials, replication studies, and meta-analyses.57 These studies could use psychometric scales—as discussed above—to assess the extent of improvement with respect to the outcome in question, and to well-being generally.
This book can provide the impetus for such research. But I believe that, even with just the lexicography as it stands, individuals can invest their experience and understanding of life with greater granularity and nuance. Hopefully I have made the case that we can always seek to improve our maps of existence and that untranslatable words offer a powerful means of doing so. By paying attention to such words as we proceed on our journeys, we may get to know the ground beneath us a little better. We will perhaps even be empowered to ascend to previously unknown heights of well-being, and to create the best lives we can.