After 6 months in Indonesia, I made a list of 5 values the West no longer lives by. Here’s how it impacts our happiness

When you land in Indonesia, it feels like the air itself is alive.

Thick with humidity, incense smoke curling from roadside shrines, the sound of scooters weaving around street vendors who sell fried bananas alongside phone chargers.

At first glance, it’s chaotic.

But beneath the bustle lies something Western eyes often miss: a way of life anchored by values that have quietly slipped through the cracks back home.

After six months living here, I realized these values aren’t just cultural quirks.

They’re cornerstones of well-being—ones the West has traded away for speed, convenience, and profit.

Here are five of those values, and what their absence says about our happiness.

Community over convenience

In most Western cities, convenience reigns supreme.

Groceries delivered in 15 minutes, self-checkout kiosks, apps to avoid human interaction entirely.

In Indonesia, convenience isn’t king—community is.

Daily life is threaded with tiny interactions: neighbors sharing meals, local warungs (small food stalls) that double as social hubs, children playing together in courtyards while parents chat.

Even buying fruit becomes communal—vendors know your name, your tastes, your family.

It isn’t always efficient. Waiting for a neighbor to finish gossip before your transaction can test your patience.

But it’s precisely in those “inconvenient” moments that connection grows.

The pro: you feel woven into a web of belonging.

The con: efficiency takes a back seat, and sometimes you just want to grab your groceries and go.

But when loneliness is rising in Western societies—even as we enjoy maximum convenience—maybe the trade-off isn’t so bad.

Reverence for nature over domination of it

In the West, nature is often something to manage, control, or escape into on weekends.

In Indonesia, nature is presence. It seeps into daily rituals. Offerings are left for river spirits.

The monsoon isn’t an inconvenience—it’s a season to adapt to. Volcanoes are both feared and revered.

I was struck by how often Indonesians talked about nature as if it were a relative, not a resource. A grandmother in Bali told me, “The mountain gives, the mountain takes.” No PowerPoint presentation in the corporate world ever framed nature that way.

The West’s obsession with conquering nature—air conditioning, industrial farming, mega cities—may make life predictable.

But in the process, we’ve stripped away the awe and humility that come from living in relationship with the earth.

The pro: harmony and gratitude.

The con: vulnerability—nature has the final say.

But maybe happiness isn’t about insulation from discomfort, but about alignment with something larger than ourselves.

Patience over productivity

In the U.S. and much of Europe, productivity is a religion. Your worth is measured in output, optimized calendars, inbox zero.

Indonesia teaches the opposite: patience is power.

Nothing runs on the clock you expect. Buses arrive “when they arrive.” Meetings start 45 minutes late.

A construction project may take twice as long as planned—but no one’s panicking.

At first, it’s maddening. My Western brain twitched at the slowness.

But eventually, I realized: patience makes room for people. For conversation, for laughter, for pausing to ask if someone has eaten today.

The pro: a life less ruled by stress and urgency.

The con: inefficiency that can drive outsiders insane.

But here’s the paradox: by obsessing over productivity, the West has produced record levels of burnout.

Meanwhile, Indonesians—whose GDP per capita is a fraction of ours—often seem lighter in spirit. What does that say about who’s winning?

Respect for elders over obsession with youth

Western culture worships youth. Our ads feature wrinkle-free skin and 20-year-old influencers selling us serums to avoid aging.

Indonesia flips the script. Elders are revered as carriers of wisdom. Multi-generational households are common.

The elderly aren’t tucked away—they’re central to family decisions, traditions, and daily life.

I watched teenagers defer to grandparents with patience that would astonish most Western parents.

And I saw how elders, instead of being sidelined, thrived on the respect they received.

The pro: dignity and connection for older generations.

The con: hierarchy can sometimes stifle individualism or new ideas.

But ask yourself: which society seems happier—one where aging is feared and hidden, or one where it’s honored as an achievement?

Spiritual grounding over material accumulation

In the West, success is measured in square footage, promotions, and what’s parked in your driveway.

In Indonesia, especially in Bali and Java, spiritual practice is stitched into daily life.

Morning offerings to ancestors. Evening prayers at shrines. A steady rhythm of rituals that remind you of your place in the universe.

This doesn’t mean Indonesians aren’t ambitious. But ambition is balanced by something deeper: an orientation toward meaning.

I noticed how friends here didn’t frame happiness in terms of “things” but in terms of balance—between self and family, work and rest, body and spirit.

The pro: life feels anchored.

The con: rituals can feel rigid, especially to Westerners used to constant reinvention.

But compared to Western burnout—where people chase more, earn more, buy more, only to feel emptier—Indonesia’s grounding feels like an antidote.

The trade-off we don’t talk about

So what does all this mean?

Living in Indonesia taught me that the West hasn’t just lost touch with these values—it has actively traded them away.

We traded community for convenience, nature for control, patience for productivity, elders for youth, and spirituality for materialism.

And yes, those trades gave us efficiency, innovation, and comfort.

But at what cost?

Because underneath the gleaming surface of Western progress, happiness metrics are slipping. Depression, anxiety, and loneliness are rising.

Maybe we didn’t just lose old values—we lost part of what makes life feel meaningful.

Indonesia isn’t perfect. Poverty, corruption, and inequality are very real. But it offers a mirror: proof that values shape happiness as much as economics or technology ever could.

Final thoughts: redefining happiness

Six months in Indonesia didn’t make me abandon Western life.

But it forced me to ask uncomfortable questions. Do we really need everything faster, bigger, more efficient?

Or do we need something slower, smaller, and more connected?

The values I saw here aren’t exotic luxuries. They’re ancient human truths: community, reverence, patience, respect, spirituality.

The West hasn’t lost them entirely. But it has buried them under a mountain of convenience and consumption.

If happiness is the goal, maybe it’s time to start digging them back out.