Cultivating active hope in hard times
It’s been a week since Trump took office - a tough week marked by incessant attacks on the freedoms that most people in this country value, regardless of race, gender identity, or immigration status. We’ve watched as Trump and his billionaire cronies mount threats to our rights to clean air, water, and a livable climate, our rights to seek safety and economic opportunity, and our right to live openly as who we are. For those of us in Alaska, reading through the enshrinement of a policy of the absolute pillage of our state’s natural resources is gut-wrenching. It feels like we’ve been holding our collective breath ever since the election, not knowing what this new political landscape would look like - and now we do.
In times like these, it can be really hard to see any light. For those doing climate work, the outlook seems particularly dire. We know we’re on a tight timeline to make massive changes to our energy systems in order to stave off the worst of climate change. Many catastrophic changes are already underway, and people are losing their lives due to government inaction on climate change. The corporate control of some of the highest levels of government has only become more blatant. Meanwhile, people are So. Damn. Tired. We’ve been through this before, and for many, the idea of doing it again makes us want to hide under the covers.
This is the playing field from which we begin this administration. Things are undeniably bad. But today we’re going to talk about hope. Maybe this seems naive, or played-out, but this is the word that has been continually resurfacing for many of us.
The day after the inauguration, along with our friends at Fireweed Collective and Northern Center, we gathered in the evening with about 60 members of our community to share food and inspiration, and to gather energy for what’s coming next. The mood was fired up, people ready to take their place in the local fight for a livable climate. We felt buoyed by this community, and the motivation of others.
Coming out of that energetic mood, we’ve been sitting with the idea of what it takes to cultivate hope in the midst of hopelessness. Or is hope even the thing we need? What is it that animates our bodies to get out of the bed and to join others in fighting the interests of the most powerful men in the world in order to save what we can still save? Is it hope? As climate scientist and writer Ayana Elizabeth Johnson says, “F*ck hope. Where’s the plan? Where’s the strategy? What are we going to do that we don’t need hope?” For Johnson, that answer is: “truth, courage, and solutions.”
Maybe it’s different for all of us. Maybe it’s a cocktail of different proportions for everyone - some of us more truth, more courage, more solutions. Maybe for others there’s a spiritual imperative mixed in too, or love. For others, maybe there’s a strong dose of spite and anger involved. But no matter, we’re all called to find that specific mix of ingredients that keeps us going. As Johnson says, “Even though there is so much we can’t save, the other side of that is there is so much that we still can save. So, who are we to give up? What gives us the right to give up on the planet and each other?”
Johnson’s aversion to “hope” is understandable. Hope can be used as a way to avoid reality, or action. As Johnson says, “I personally perceive the word ‘hope’ as passive. When I hear the word ‘hope,’ I think ‘I hope someone does something about that.’ Or ‘I hope that works out.’”
That’s certainly not the kind of hope we’re talking about. Maybe it needs a different word, but what we’re talking about is the thing that makes us believe that radical change is possible.
In a speech given to Black Lives Matter activists in 2017, Angela Davis said, “We are the materialized dreams of those who were struggling against slavery... And we would not be here if it were not for the fact that they had their dreams and fought for their dreams of freedom… we need a kind of temporality that does not allow us to remain ensconced in the present… You have to work as if it were possible to radically transform the world.” These words help to illustrate the importance of having a dream, and believing it is possible, maybe against all odds, as abolitionists who fought against slavery did. This is the kind of tenacious hope we’re talking about, and we think Johnson might agree. Perhaps Johnson would feel better about a different definition of hope, like Joanna Macy’s “active hope” (from her book by the same name):
Active Hope is not wishful thinking. Active Hope is not waiting to be rescued … Active Hope is a readiness to discover the strengths in ourselves and in others; a readiness to discover the reasons for hope and the occasions for love. A readiness to discover the size and strength of our hearts, our quickness of mind, our steadiness of purpose, our own authority, our love for life, the liveliness of our curiosity, the unsuspected deep well of patience and diligence, the keenness of our senses, and our capacity to lead. None of these can be discovered in an armchair or without risk.
Maybe that’s closer to Johnson’s vision of truth or courage. Maybe it is hope after all. We’re happy to use Joanna Macy’s term “active hope.” Regardless of what we call it, it’s what we’ll all have to cultivate intentionally in these next four years and beyond.
For many in our FCAC community, one way we cultivate this kind of active hope is by taking concrete actions that have real pathways to success. When so much on the national political scale can inspire feelings of powerlessness, it’s important for our movements and our psyches to cultivate (perhaps smaller) areas in our lives where we can exercise our power and agency. We see our agency most reflected here in our own home, on the local and state levels. We still have a LOT of tools to enact the kind of change we need, and we have a lot of promising avenues for that change.
Our Policy and Politics Working Group is working to get more climate policy at the borough level, our Keep It iN the Ground Working Group is working to get legislation passed to stop state handouts to fossil fuel corporations, our Renewable Energy Working Group is recruiting renewable-friendly candidates for district 5 and 6 GVEA elections this spring, and our Interfaith Working Group is growing our community of faith groups committed to climate action. None of that work has changed, and we still have viable pathways to success for all of the goals of each one of our working groups.
One final thing that seems obvious, but might need to be said is: this situation we’re in is not your fault. Some of us deal with situations of powerlessness by assigning ourselves personal responsibility. No one of us had the power to change this trajectory, and no one of us will get us out of it. The people to blame are the people who are always to blame: billionaires, fossil fuel companies, and the politicians they pay for, using divide and conquer tactics to disempower working people. And the people who will get us out are the people who have always gotten us out: communities of people, working together, sharing the load and taking care of each other.
You’re not alone in this fight, and the work is still happening. Rest when you need to, join with others in community to protect what you love when you’re ready, and know that the many can defeat the money when we work in deep community and solidarity. Cultivate whatever it is that helps you to believe that this is true, whether you call it hope or something else. It’s our job now to dream new dreams of freedom into existence.
