Iβm sort of baffled by the common (Western?) social premise that hope is super important, or worse, the precursor to action. Unpopular opinion: Iβm just not into hope β it feels pretty flimsy to me. Which makes it pretty awkward that the question I get asked in almost every interview is: What gives you hope? π¬
So in my forthcoming book What If We Get It Right?: Visions of Climate Futures (coming September 17th!) I explain my antipathy and what mindset might serve us better. This short chapter, βA Note on Hope,β opens the final section of the book, which is titled TRANSFORMATION.
My editor repeatedly tried to cut this chapter, but I slipped it back in right before the book went to press. (Sorry, not sorry, Chris Jackson! But can I get points for dropping in that pre-order link? ππ½) Most of us who work on climate are grappling with hope/hopelessness in some way, so I felt compelled to address it. And I suppose I wanted to be on record that Iβm not an optimist π€£ β and you donβt have to be either!
Very glad to be sharing this close-to-my-heart excerpt with you, Substack readers, as a way to launch into the kinds of conversations I hope we will have together here. Hop in the comments and let us know: Whatβs your take on hope? So curious to hear from you.
A Note on Hope
People often say that hope is important as motivation to address the climate crisis. But I have something to admit: I have a tenuous relationship with hope. I donβt even like the word. It seems so passive, like wishful thinking. Like, βI hope that works out.β Or, βI hope someone does something about that.β And that vibe certainly isnβt going to get us anywhere.
My aversion has been solidified by being asked, ad nauseam, What makes you hopeful? How do you stay optimistic? That always snags me because I am neither. Iβm a scientist; Iβm a realist. I immediately think: Fuck hope. Whereβs the strategy? What are we going to do so that we donβt need hope?
It took me far too long to realize that what people were Β really asking was βCan you please give me hope? I need some.β And that version of the question, that vulnerable and true version, that βTell me how you, how I, can keep goingβ version, I totally get. We, those of us trying to turn things around, are not robots. We are humans with heaps of emotions and attachments and fears.
The fact that I am not prone to depression is an enormous gift, especially as someone who absorbs loads of bad climate news daily. (In a sense, my professional success has been tied to my ability to communicate about the collapse of the ecosystems I have studied. How messed up is that?) So I ease my anxiety with productivity, by completing action items. Thatβs not to say I havenβt been a puddle of tears on the NYC subway while reading UN climate reports, because Iβm picturing the human suffering and biodiversity loss implied by those graphs. I feel all of this, deeply. I can absolutely relate to the sense of grasping for a reason to keep at it. And it would be easy, after reading all these chapters, to focus on the complexities and challenges and just throw up your hands.
After all, what is hope? The dictionary definitions of βhopeβ and βoptimismβ both include the expectation of a positive outcome. A positive outcome is a wild thing to expect given the scenarios we face. But the definition of βhopeβ also includes the word βdesire,β something I have in abundance. I want climate solutions so badly. And while it would be foolish to assume that our story on this planet has a happy ending, every day I wake up, and I think more and more of us wake up, and consider what we can do to manifest that desire, to nudge ourselves closer to a healthy and safe and restored and resplendent life on Earth.
For who are we to give up on this planet or one another? We simply do not get to quit. Also, how do we keep moving forward despite the intimidating odds? Itβs normal to grapple with all of this, and the truth is, you donβt need hope at all. As philosopher Joanna Macy has put it:
Itβs okay not to be optimistic. Buddhist teachings say feeling that you have to maintain hope can wear you out. So just be present... And when youβre worrying about whether youβre hopeful or hopeless or pessimistic or optimistic, who cares? The main thing is that youβre showing up, that youβre here, and that youβre finding ever more capacity to love this world because it will not be healed without that.
Hereβs the thing: Octopuses and rainbows and music and dinner parties and love and snow flurries and the aurora borealis all exist! The world is full of delights even as it may also be spiraling toward conflagration and deluge. So when people perceive me as hopeful, I think what they are actually seeing is that I am joyful. And thank goodness for the human ability to decouple hope from joy.
My concern is that hope is insufficient. So, I encourage you to, in the words of Terry Tempest Williams, βmake vows to something deeper than hope.β If not hope, then what? Truth, courage, and solutions. Love. Collaboration and community. And all the sweetness along the way. Thatβs what can get us there. Possibility. Thatβs a word I can wholeheartedly race Βtoward. I find motivation for action in glimpses of what could be, and in values instilled by my parents that say it is my responsibility to try,without any guarantees of success. The force that propels me is a simple and deep desire to be useful.
But if you are into hope, let me stop raining on your parade, and letβs embrace author Rebecca Solnitβs definition:
Hope is not a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. It is an axe you break down doors with in an emergency. Hope should shove you out the door, because it will take everything you have to steer the future away from endless war, from the annihilation of the Earthβs treasures and the grinding down of the poor and marginal...ββTo hope is to give yourself to the futureβΒ and that commitment to the future is what makes the present inhabitable.
Yes. I can roll with a catalytic hope like that. If by βhopeβ you mean simmering passion to implement climate solutions, then despite a muffled cringe at your word choice, I am with you. Because what could be more depressing than just passively watching the world burn and melt and crumble? No, thank you.
As my friend Frank says, βHaving hope allows you to be ready. If youβre not hopeful, youβre not looking for solutions.β As Paola puts it,βHope is a propellant.β As my friend Boris says, βWhat we need is mega-pragmatic utopianism β utopianism plus a lot of detail. We need to go all-Βin on that.β As Greta Thunberg challenges us, βHope is something you have to earn.β And as Katharine Wilkinson and I concluded in All We Can Save, describing our notion of βcanβ in the bookβs title:
βCanβ speaks to sheer determination. This shit ainβt over yet. Possibility still exists, as documented in data-Β driven analysis of climate solutions and temperature trajectories, and as imprinted in the persistence of life despite all odds. We are a miracle. Our task and our opportunity is to face a seemingly impossible challenge and act in service of what is possible.
Itβs worth repeating: This shit ainβt over yet. And while I donβt have any assurances for you β hot damn, the world is a wreck and the future uncertainI β I am overflowing with motivation to work Β toward a better world, even knowing it wonβt be a perfect world. A world with mended landscapes and renewable energy and clean air and climate justice is possible. And that is worth a shot.
Comments are open. Whatβs your take on hope in the context of climate change?
And if you dig this excerpt, thereβs a whole What If We Get It Right? book with this vibe waiting for you.
Unpopular opinion: Iβm not into hope β it feels flimsy as motivation for climate action. I wrote about this in my new book What If We Get It Right?, and Iβm excited to share this excerpt here, with you. Whatβs your relationship with hope?
I approach hope from the opposite direction: despair; hopelessness. I have been there, and it tugs at me every time I read another piece of research saying "here is the tipping point we have likely raced past." EnviroDespair is real.
So. The alternative to sinking into the EnviroDespair pit is taking some action--any kind of action--that attempts to move the needle the other way. Even a tiny bit. And it helps greatly to work with others in the action, because there are many others who feel the same way and who are waiting to take some action, even if it is just a tiny one.
When you are acting in a way that promotes your goal you feel... hopeful. It may turn out to be a false hope given the size of the challenge facing us, but taking some action and feeling hopeful is a better alternative to being frozen in EnviroDespair.