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I don't have to be an optimist, and surely I'm not a pessimist. Rather, I'm a possibilist.(Photo: Samuel Corum/Getty Images)
I've been called a hope fiend, and I cop to it.
More than ever, hope isn't just a "nice" feeling we're lucky to experience from time to time. No, hope has become a requirement, as despair is our worst enemy. So, let me share a few things this fiend has learned about hope.
First, it's work.
Yes, I know that hope and effort don't seem to go together. But think about it: A lot of good things in life--from a good meal to a good marriage--entail work, sometimes a lot of work. Yet, when we pause to savor them, we know it's been worth it.
So, what is the work of hope?
To be clear, I don't mean the effort of pushing out the bad news. Hope is not blind faith. Neither is it the cheery note struck by Harvard professor Steve Pinker, who in Enlightenment Now, for example, encourages us not to worry because things are really getting better. I'm not convinced.
But here's the good news.
I discovered that hope starts with one realization: Given that the nature of life is continuous change in which we're all connected--so that every action affects the whole, moment to moment--it is simply not possible to know what's possible.
It is in this very unknowing that hope lives. Precisely because I cannot be certain, I am free. I am free to go for the world I really want.
Thus, I don't have to be an optimist, and surely I'm not a pessimist. Rather, I'm a possibilist.
I have no need for certainty of success, or even strong probability. Hope is a stance, not an assessment. As long as I can see even the possibility that my actions now can make a difference in tackling our root crisis--the assault on our democracy along with citizens' weakening confidence in democracy--I'm going for it.
I can continue eagerly throwing my energies into the rising movement for real democracy in America.
To stay in a sense of possibility, however, I do have a "secret tool" I'll share. I keep a mental list of big, positive leaps that I would have given zero chance of ever happening...until they did.
Here's one.
In the early 1950s our nation was gripped by McCarthyism. Now, that was a real "witch hunt," and the lives of several of my parents' friends were wrecked. (Merely belonging to the Unitarian church my folks had helped to found in Texas made them suspect.) It was a dark era, but with the passage of time and acts of courage our culture learned.
Just over one decade later, I became a warrior in the federal War on Poverty. I was paid by the government to go door-to-door in Philadelphia's poorest neighborhoods to help people who'd been abused by slumlords and callous welfare officers to understand their rights and to find strength in solidarity.
Thus, in only slightly more than one decade, our country went from fear and finger-pointing to a shared determination to confront the devastation of poverty. Ronald Reagan later quipped that in this war on poverty, poverty won. He was wrong. Americans cut the rate of poverty by half in just over decade.
Get the idea? Try coming up with your own list.
The fall of the Berlin Wall?
Barack Hussein Obama elected US president...twice?
Marriage equality?
Or, note that it was Republican Richard Nixon who established the EPA and signed the 1970 Clean Air Act, making it possible since then to cut levels of six major air pollutants by more than 70 percent, even though our economy has grown three-fold.
I rest my case. Today, I declare myself a hard-core, died-in-the-wool possibilist. Sure, it takes work, but hope is the great reward.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
I've been called a hope fiend, and I cop to it.
More than ever, hope isn't just a "nice" feeling we're lucky to experience from time to time. No, hope has become a requirement, as despair is our worst enemy. So, let me share a few things this fiend has learned about hope.
First, it's work.
Yes, I know that hope and effort don't seem to go together. But think about it: A lot of good things in life--from a good meal to a good marriage--entail work, sometimes a lot of work. Yet, when we pause to savor them, we know it's been worth it.
So, what is the work of hope?
To be clear, I don't mean the effort of pushing out the bad news. Hope is not blind faith. Neither is it the cheery note struck by Harvard professor Steve Pinker, who in Enlightenment Now, for example, encourages us not to worry because things are really getting better. I'm not convinced.
But here's the good news.
I discovered that hope starts with one realization: Given that the nature of life is continuous change in which we're all connected--so that every action affects the whole, moment to moment--it is simply not possible to know what's possible.
It is in this very unknowing that hope lives. Precisely because I cannot be certain, I am free. I am free to go for the world I really want.
Thus, I don't have to be an optimist, and surely I'm not a pessimist. Rather, I'm a possibilist.
I have no need for certainty of success, or even strong probability. Hope is a stance, not an assessment. As long as I can see even the possibility that my actions now can make a difference in tackling our root crisis--the assault on our democracy along with citizens' weakening confidence in democracy--I'm going for it.
I can continue eagerly throwing my energies into the rising movement for real democracy in America.
To stay in a sense of possibility, however, I do have a "secret tool" I'll share. I keep a mental list of big, positive leaps that I would have given zero chance of ever happening...until they did.
Here's one.
In the early 1950s our nation was gripped by McCarthyism. Now, that was a real "witch hunt," and the lives of several of my parents' friends were wrecked. (Merely belonging to the Unitarian church my folks had helped to found in Texas made them suspect.) It was a dark era, but with the passage of time and acts of courage our culture learned.
Just over one decade later, I became a warrior in the federal War on Poverty. I was paid by the government to go door-to-door in Philadelphia's poorest neighborhoods to help people who'd been abused by slumlords and callous welfare officers to understand their rights and to find strength in solidarity.
Thus, in only slightly more than one decade, our country went from fear and finger-pointing to a shared determination to confront the devastation of poverty. Ronald Reagan later quipped that in this war on poverty, poverty won. He was wrong. Americans cut the rate of poverty by half in just over decade.
Get the idea? Try coming up with your own list.
The fall of the Berlin Wall?
Barack Hussein Obama elected US president...twice?
Marriage equality?
Or, note that it was Republican Richard Nixon who established the EPA and signed the 1970 Clean Air Act, making it possible since then to cut levels of six major air pollutants by more than 70 percent, even though our economy has grown three-fold.
I rest my case. Today, I declare myself a hard-core, died-in-the-wool possibilist. Sure, it takes work, but hope is the great reward.
I've been called a hope fiend, and I cop to it.
More than ever, hope isn't just a "nice" feeling we're lucky to experience from time to time. No, hope has become a requirement, as despair is our worst enemy. So, let me share a few things this fiend has learned about hope.
First, it's work.
Yes, I know that hope and effort don't seem to go together. But think about it: A lot of good things in life--from a good meal to a good marriage--entail work, sometimes a lot of work. Yet, when we pause to savor them, we know it's been worth it.
So, what is the work of hope?
To be clear, I don't mean the effort of pushing out the bad news. Hope is not blind faith. Neither is it the cheery note struck by Harvard professor Steve Pinker, who in Enlightenment Now, for example, encourages us not to worry because things are really getting better. I'm not convinced.
But here's the good news.
I discovered that hope starts with one realization: Given that the nature of life is continuous change in which we're all connected--so that every action affects the whole, moment to moment--it is simply not possible to know what's possible.
It is in this very unknowing that hope lives. Precisely because I cannot be certain, I am free. I am free to go for the world I really want.
Thus, I don't have to be an optimist, and surely I'm not a pessimist. Rather, I'm a possibilist.
I have no need for certainty of success, or even strong probability. Hope is a stance, not an assessment. As long as I can see even the possibility that my actions now can make a difference in tackling our root crisis--the assault on our democracy along with citizens' weakening confidence in democracy--I'm going for it.
I can continue eagerly throwing my energies into the rising movement for real democracy in America.
To stay in a sense of possibility, however, I do have a "secret tool" I'll share. I keep a mental list of big, positive leaps that I would have given zero chance of ever happening...until they did.
Here's one.
In the early 1950s our nation was gripped by McCarthyism. Now, that was a real "witch hunt," and the lives of several of my parents' friends were wrecked. (Merely belonging to the Unitarian church my folks had helped to found in Texas made them suspect.) It was a dark era, but with the passage of time and acts of courage our culture learned.
Just over one decade later, I became a warrior in the federal War on Poverty. I was paid by the government to go door-to-door in Philadelphia's poorest neighborhoods to help people who'd been abused by slumlords and callous welfare officers to understand their rights and to find strength in solidarity.
Thus, in only slightly more than one decade, our country went from fear and finger-pointing to a shared determination to confront the devastation of poverty. Ronald Reagan later quipped that in this war on poverty, poverty won. He was wrong. Americans cut the rate of poverty by half in just over decade.
Get the idea? Try coming up with your own list.
The fall of the Berlin Wall?
Barack Hussein Obama elected US president...twice?
Marriage equality?
Or, note that it was Republican Richard Nixon who established the EPA and signed the 1970 Clean Air Act, making it possible since then to cut levels of six major air pollutants by more than 70 percent, even though our economy has grown three-fold.
I rest my case. Today, I declare myself a hard-core, died-in-the-wool possibilist. Sure, it takes work, but hope is the great reward.