“I really feel like the happiest person in the world,” confirms Sandra, 25, who lives in Kaunas, the second-largest city. In addition to her day job as a communications specialist, Sandra is the CEO of Emerging Kaunas, an organisation that involves local youth with their community. “Even though there are blue Mondays and so on, I create my own life that is good for me.”
Orinta, 21, a journalism student in the capital, Vilnius, is less convinced. “It’s unusual to hear positive things about Lithuania, especially when it comes to statistics,” she says. Although Orinta once dreamed of moving to the US, she is now content to stay put. “I like living here,” she confesses. “It’s not as bad as people made it seem when I was growing up… I kind of fell in love with my country over the years.”
The survey results suggest that, to some extent, money does buy happiness. In the last 10 years, Lithuania’s economy has soared, nurturing international investment, a vibrant startup culture and a bustling arts scene. This is in stark contrast to previous decades. The country declared independence from the Soviet Union in 1990, but the years that followed were not kind to the small nation on the Baltic Sea. Everyday life was characterised by instability, poverty and survivalism. Over the last quarter-century, an estimated 25 per cent of the country’s population departed its borders in search of fairer shores.
“Between youngsters and elderly people, it seems like we live in different countries,” says Sandra. “We not only have different experiences and different technologies that we grew up with, we also have very different experiences of what freedom is.” Lithuanian twentysomethings feel a mental divide with their parents, who grew up in the Soviet Union. Unlike millennials (who still rank at number seven on the World Happiness Report for their age group), Gen Z also grew up without the baggage of the notorious 90s.
“Our generation is the first one that is more open-minded to everything,” says Simas, 26, an IT worker in Vilnius. “I think we might be the happiest because we are the first generation not living by Soviet rules… Even 10 years ago, everyone was watching like crazy if you were dressed differently from others, or if you had a different hairstyle. All those things are different now.” The challenges faced by older generations don’t only make for a dramatic contrast with their children’s happiness – they may actually help to explain it. “Our parents’ childhoods were quite rough, our grandparents’ even worse,” says Aistė. “It’s maybe what makes us happy, because our point of reference is something that was very tragic.”
The pivotal moment came around a decade ago, when low costs and a business-friendly atmosphere inspired companies to set up shop in Lithuania. The country is now an international tech and finance hub. “We have more and more startups getting even bigger,” says Simas, who works as an IT operations engineer for a financial services tech company. As of August 2024, Lithuania is home to three ‘unicorns’, startups valued at $1bn. “Ten years ago, no one would have thought that was possible.”
“When Belarus and Russia are your neighbours, you can feel the war breathing down your neck” Aistė, 27
When Simas isn’t at his day job, he’s a DJ, spinning records in clubs across Vilnius. “Vilnius has a really good scene,” he says. “We could compare it to Berlin in some ways, just on a smaller scale. And we’re still growing.” He describes his DJing style as more progressive and energetic than the hard techno you hear in some clubs.
As opposed to their parents’ generation, who associate bars with excessive drinking, young people use these haunts as places to build community. “There’s a lot of events, a lot of parties,” says Lina, 26, an actor from Vilnius. “Nowadays people really do gather in bars just to communicate and expand their social circle. We’re not so much into alcohol. It’s not even considered cool to drink.”
The diverse cultural scene here is encouraged by government funding, affordable costs and the accessibility of different industries. Lithuania is small, with a population of less than 3 million. Its youngest generation is proportionally even smaller, due to migration and shrinking birth rates. Lithuanian creatives are big fish in a small pond, and the barrier to entry is relatively low. “I wouldn’t say it’s extremely hard to get into the industry,” says Lina of the acting industry. She decided to pursue acting when she landed a free spot at the Academy of Music and Theatre. She now splits her time between pursuing a master’s degree in vocal performance (also free), teaching Spanish at a high school and freelance acting work, especially for cartoons.
According to Lina, young Lithuanians are also liberal about sex, another difference from their parents, for whom it was once infamously said that “ there is no sex in the Soviet Union”. “We are not that strict about sex,” she says. “If a foreigner here is offered a threesome, some of them can get very offended. But in Lithuania, we would never get offended. People even joke that it’s a Lithuanian thing. All of us do it.” (I confess to Lina I have never been propositioned for a threesome in Lithuania. She reassures me that couples usually approach men.)
On any given Saturday, teens straight out of Y2K crowd the city’s shopping malls in baggy trousers, graphic eyeliner, jangling keychains and emo fringes, trends bolstered by the rich second-hand culture. Humana, a chain of thrift stores, is found on virtually every street corner. For their parents, second-hand clothing is associated with the lean years of the 1990s and 2000s. As the younger generation reclaims thrifting and its kitschy fashions, they reclaim stereotypes about eastern European aesthetics.14
Aistė offers an ironically repurposed T-shirt that says ‘luck y girl’ in cursive as an example: “When a Lithuanian person does that, it has another layer of reclaiming your style in a way, almost like a national costume.” She draws the line at tracksuits. Greta, 20, who is pursuing a degree in east Asian studies in Kaunas, says that young people are much more fashionable than they were even a few years ago. Her wardrobe is built on second-hand pieces and inspired by hip-hop dancing, her favourite pastime. “I see 11and 12-year-old people who have a very good fashion sense… I get inspired by younger people.”
“Even 10 years ago, people watched like crazy if you were dressed differently… All those things are different now” Simas, 26
While the country’s economic fortunes are arguably the key to its rising dopamine levels, many feel that costs are creeping up quickly, especially for housing. “Buying real estate seems a bit impossible if you don’t have parents to give you money for the mortgage,” says Karolina, 26, a recently qualified medical doctor who rents in Vilnius. The affordability of renting is also debatable. Lina lucked out – she pays 200€ a month to share a flat in a converted synagogue in Vilnius’s baroque old town. (Before the Holocaust, Lithuania had one of Europe’s largest Jewish populations, and Vilnius was dubbed the ‘Jerusalem of the North’. Lina, who has Jewish heritage, describes a Jewish cultural revival unfolding in Vilnius.) Others have a harder time finding affordable places to rent, and the options aren’t always desirable. “I’m not finding this 18-square-metre flat very inspiring,” says Sandra of the apartments on offer.
Disagreement over the cost of living reflects a divide between the well-off and everyone else – and thus, some argue, the happy and not-so-happy. “I’m not the happiest,” confesses Greta. She was surprised by the World Happiness Report’s findings. “I don’t know where I would rank on that scale, maybe a six.” She ties this dissonance to the country’s wealth disparity, which skews towards Vilnius. Greta dreams of moving to the capital, which is more cosmopolitan and livelier than Kaunas, but she can’t afford it. Her dad works as a driver, and her mother is unable to work due to a disability. Without financial support from her parents, she feels stuck. “As soon as I hear that people are happy in Lithuania – it’s OK. I get it. But I feel like that’s very much looking from the perspective of the wealthier people.”
What’s more, fairer fortunes in the cities disguise desolation in the provinces. “The regions are usually in decline. Youth are coming to Vilnius, Kaunas, bigger cities because there’s more opportunity,” says Kipras, 21, a political science student at Vilnius University. “I rarely go back there,” says Simas of his small hometown, Pagėgiai. “Whenever I go back, it’s a bit sad.”
On a cultural level, Gen Z’s more liberal attitudes can jibe awkwardly with the country’s conservative tendencies, the result of its Soviet legacy and the prominent Catholic church. Karolina, who has a German girlfriend, says that while her peers are accepting, older people’s attitudes inhibit progress for LGBTQ+ rights. No form of same-sex union is legal in Lithuania. But Karolina feels the tide is turning. The first Vilnius pride parade in 2013 was sparsely attended and attracted a heavy police presence. In 2024, Vilnius pride attracted a record 15,000 people and mostly went off without a hitch. “There were a couple of stupid people with some posters, but no one gives a shit about them,” says Karolina. “You can sense the situation is getting better.”
Lina sometimes worries about finding a partner. “My mum got married when she was 27. And I was like, ‘I’m going to be 27 next year,’” she says. “But then I remembered, ‘OK, the times are different.’ I can be single even until I’m 35, 36, whatever. There’s no need to rush.” Others, like university student Orinta, are nervous about job prospects. “Will it be difficult for me to find a job? Will I be able to move out of my dorm? How will it be after I finish university?”
The world’s happiest people aren’t immune to the existential dread rife in 2025, either. Political science student Kipras is worried about the rise of AI and the populist wave sweeping Europe. After Lithuania’s parliamentary elections in October, the Social Democrats broke long-term taboos by forming a coalition with the Dawn of Nemunas party, known for antisemitic extremism. Like others, Kipras is also concerned about the threat of war. The nation has been on edge since Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, with expansionist aims that some fear may one day place Lithuania on its warpath. Lithuanians – who share borders with the Russian enclave Kaliningrad and Belarus, Russia’s ally – receive government messages in their mailboxes with instructions on what to do in case of invasion. “We don’t know if we will be protected [if ] Ukraine falls, because we’re a small nation,” says Kipras.
“If a foreigner here is offered a threesome, they can get very offended. But in Lithuania no one gets offended. All of us do it” Lina, 26
Considering the existential threat looming at Lithuania’s borders, young people remain remarkably optimistic. “It’s really not useful to worry about,” says Orinta. “We do understand that we are not in a very good geographical or political position, but at the same time, we can’t really dwell on it, because life is going on and we have to live.” Kipras finds comfort in his fellow young Lithuanians. “I’m optimistic because of my friends,” he says. “They are all part of some NGO, or some youth group… This is what gives me hope, that we can mobilise. We have an active youth who cares. Maybe it’s not the majority, but those who do care, they’re very active.”
Young Lithuanians’ happiness and creativity may not only be in defiance of an uncertain world, but a reaction to it. “When Belarus and Russia are your neighbours, you can feel the war breathing down your neck,” says Aistė, who continues to plan her move home to Lithuania. “[But things] like this super vibrant techno scene come from the anxieties of people who choose to have fun and enjoy life. ’Cause this can go away at any second.”
After all, Lithuanians have been through a lot: centuries of imperial subjugation, the collapse of society as they knew it, and years of poverty and uncertainty in the name of building freedom. As the country observes 35 years of independence in March, the generations born into liberty feel confident in their ability to stay the path of progress and find joy along the way. Aistė and Algė are intensely proud of little sister Adelė, who, to them, represents the promise of the new Lithuania. Unlike her older sisters, who ran away to the UK as soon as they could, Adelė is enrolled as a first-year medical student at Vilnius University, where she studies for free. “Adelė was born in the EU. She’s amazing,” Aistė says of her sister, beaming. “I mean, she’s literally the child of free Lithuania.
Production LAIRD AND GOOD COMPANY, production management KAROLINA PAZERECKAITE, special thanks RAPID EYE DARKROOM
