The Case for Staying Hopeful
Downplaying our ability to fight for the good kills the light of the soul.
Real talk: I don’t generally write about optimistic things, in case it’s not obvious. As I write this, I’m preparing an interview with a Ukrainian woman whose child escaped from Russian captivity, one story among hundreds in an unfolding tale of widespread child stealing that international organizations are on the verge of considering genocide. So yep, not optimistic (I tend to think optimism is a sin, at least according to a certain definition, but that’s a different story). Yet, there’s still a lot to be hopeful about, and given that this is the last issue of the semester, I want to talk about how I reconcile those two.
What is optimism? It’s more than seeing the glass half full—while optimists are usually perceived as being focused on the positive side of a given situation, they’re also likely to overestimate the likelihood of a positive outcome while downplaying the chances of a situation ending badly. Is this useful? It certainly can be, particularly in responding to setbacks or temporary hardships. Yet, the more people I meet, the less optimists I find.
Why? Because, at its root, optimism is the idea that things will always turn out well, no matter the opposition and despite the unpredictability of life. And if life is about one thing, it’s that things do not always go well: bad things happen to good people (before the Calvinists respond, just take a breath and listen). The Ukrainians I know didn’t deserve to have their villages destroyed by the ravages of war, and they are not optimistic in the way I’ve described. Yet, they’re unbelievably hopeful—in the midst of death, life continues in a truly baffling fashion.
The exonerated death row inmates I know didn’t deserve to spend years behind bars for crimes they never committed, yet they maintain a surprising amount of hope in the justice that remains in the world. This isn’t optimism—it’s the most courageous kind of hope possible, the kind that wakes up every day determined to struggle against all odds.
The second reason to be hopeful is the human capacity for good, as strange as that may sound. Social psychologist Jonathan Haidt argues that one of the most pernicious ideas in modern society is that life is a battle between bad people and good people. It’s a key indicator of being the worst kind of political ideologue—as Soviet political prisoner Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn famously noted, the line between good and evil goes through every human being, and that includes you and me. We all have a tremendous capacity for doing evil, and I’m the last person to pretend that I’ve never failed to restrain that. Yet, the lesson I learned from years of self-reflection and, perhaps more persuasively, heard from some of the toughest people I’ve ever met, is that we have the choice to choose the good.
I’m thinking of mental warriors like Sunny Cheung, a Hong Kong expat who wakes up every morning battling horrific survivor’s guilt over his fellow democracy protestors left at the CCP’s mercy in Hong Kong, and still fights for freedom as an advocate for justice. Or Viktor Cherniivaskyi, who bears the memory of horrific torture in a Russian basement almost a decade ago, and still gets up day after day to serve the Ukranian army and fight for a brighter future for his wife and young son.
The human capacity for evil is strong, and the power of totalitarians who wake up every day and choose evil is not to be trifled with or met with mere flowery optimism. Yet the will to resist evil and pursue the calling of life and liberty is also strong, and meeting people who embody that will has been one of the most fulfilling experiences of my professional life. More than that, it gives me hope. It’s no secret that the world’s dark and life is scary, but to ignore the light that remains is the easiest way I know how to darken the soul.
Things are not always going to turn out well for the free, the faithful, or the innocent. Yet, this fact shouldn’t lead us to walk away from the fight. In fact, it should galvanize us for every battle, losing or otherwise, with joy in our hearts, strength in our fight, and a light in our eyes that’s bigger than naive optimism. That optimism is fleeting—hope is forever.
Absolutely love this