Is our obsession with rankings, a phenomenon of the 20th and 21st centuries, a hallmark of late capitalism? We find ourselves ranking countries, economies, per capita income, corruption perception, access to healthcare, obesity rates, diabetes rates, happiness levels, and countless other metrics. We rank universities, airlines, tourist attractions, best batsmen, top goal scorers, best and worst movies, and even singers like Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande, ranking them based on chart performance and income.
Recently, the American magazine, US News and World Report, released its 2023 ranking of the world's best countries. Switzerland claimed the number one spot, with Canada following closely at second place, and Sweden securing the third position. Australia earned the fourth spot, while the US and Japan took the fifth and sixth places, respectively.
Further down the list, Singapore ranked 16th, and the UAE landed at 19th place. India found itself at the 30th spot, while Bangladesh held the 69th position among the 87 countries ranked. Notably, Iran occupied the last rank. This extensive ranking relied on a composite of indices, some of which proved challenging to quantify, such as adventure and agility.
And then there's the happiness index. In the 2023 report, which ranked 137 countries, Afghanistan found itself at the bottom, with Lebanon closely trailing at 136. The usual suspects of happiness topped the list, with Finland at number one, Denmark at two, and Switzerland at three. In South Asia, Pakistan landed at 108, Sri Lanka at 112, Bangladesh at 118, and India at 126.
The intriguing question arises: Why is India, the 30th best country in the world according to the previous ranking, less happy than Bangladesh? This discrepancy serves as a valuable lesson, reminding us that one need not be the best to experience happiness.
Shouldn't we embrace stoicism and remain indifferent to happiness or unhappiness? Some people find contentment with limited resources, while others remain miserable despite having plenty. Why must we constantly strive to outperform others? Why can't we acknowledge that, within our limitations, our achievements are satisfactory, if not commendable? A Lebanese proverb encapsulates this sentiment: "Bad is better than worse."
I am not advocating for complacency, but rather encouraging a departure from the relentless pursuit of success. As a wise man in America once remarked, even when you win the rat race, you are still, fundamentally, a rat.
Is there a complacency index? Not yet. However, there does exist a World Peace Index, which ranks 163 countries. Iceland emerges as the most peaceful country in the world, closely followed by Denmark, Ireland, New Zealand, Austria, Singapore, and more. Predictably, Afghanistan, Yemen, and Syria find themselves at the bottom, mired in conflict.
Travel companies and media outlets also contribute to informal rankings. For instance, BBC's travel writers have ranked Japan as the politest society, a sentiment many visitors to Japan can confirm. Travel search sites have even ranked the rudest countries, with France taking the lead, followed by Russia –- although the reliability of such rankings remains a subject of debate.
Consider this: When French President Emmanuel Macron recently visited Bangladesh, did he express a desire to meet the country's number one musician? Instead, he chose to interact with a musician who piqued his curiosity.
Similarly, when you visit Paris, are you obligated to visit the Versailles Palace or the Eiffel Tower? What if you prefer to explore a café where Jean Paul Sartre and his intellectual comrades once frequented? Perhaps your interest lies more in observing the contemporary scene than ticking off touristy landmarks. You might not return with selfies in front of iconic structures, but what truly matters is your personal experience.
Sometimes, it seems our travels serve not for our enjoyment, but to showcase to others the breadth of our experiences. It's a subtle, if not overt, form of ranking -- an assertion that "I am more well-travelled than you."
But can everything truly be ranked? Consider this: What's superior, a genuine cheesecake made with Philadelphia cream cheese with blueberry toppings, or "Nolen gurer Sandesh"? A juicy steak or Kacchi biryani? A cappuccino in a Parisian café, or a steaming cup of tea from an obscure railway station in Bangladesh on a crisp winter morning?
During our student days in Ottawa, my friend Sajjad had a cookbook from Bangladesh, which he delighted in reading to us, particularly the section on breakfast. The author classified breakfasts into categories for the rich and the less fortunate. The rich enjoyed toasts, butter, jam, or cornflakes, while the less fortunate savoured chira (flattened rice), gur, doi, and the like. Sajjad would exclaim, "please, give me the breakfast of the less fortunate."
Are all rankings mere hype, some utterly pointless? The answer is no; there are genuinely meaningful rankings. One such ranking is the Global Gender Gap Index. In the 2023 report, Iceland claimed the top spot, followed by Norway, Finland, and New Zealand. Surprises included Nicaragua at rank 7 and Rwanda at rank 12 among the 146 countries assessed. Bangladesh found itself at 59th place, while Japan, India, and Pakistan secured the 125th, 127th, and 142nd positions, respectively.
Another significant ranking is the Rule of Law Index, a project by the World Justice Project that assessed 140 countries. Not surprisingly, Denmark claimed the number one spot, followed by Norway at 2 and Finland at 3. Here, Bangladesh faces a significant challenge in improving its less-than-desirable rank of 127.
Habibul Haque Khondker is a sociology professor at Zayed University, Abu Dhabi who previously taught at the National University of Singapore.