Our addiction to hope
“Without hope, they say, what’s the point? And it’s always a rhetorical question. In my years at the bedside and at the podium in palliative care, I have never heard hope wondered much about, or challenged, or talked about as if it were anything other than goodness incarnate and the secret ingredient that makes Maslow’s “hierarchy of needs” and living and dying make sense. A few years ago some researchers proposed to test what variable had the most significant impact on physicians’ ability to accurately predict the course of their palliative patients’ disease trajectory. One of the things they discovered in their test group was that the prognostic accuracy decreased in an “overly optimistic direction” the longer the patient-physician relationship went on.” — Stephen Jenkinson, Come of Age, A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul
What’s your take on hope?
It’s a good thing, right?
Actually, it’s more than that.
It’s life-sustaining.
I think of it as another one of those norms (nothing is normal by the way) that rarely, if ever, is held aloft, examined, taken apart and then considered beyond the general acceptance that absent a hopeful way of being, we’re more than likely depressed.
Of course, like always, I generalise like hell and I’m not able to point to any study or the like in support of my proposition that hope is another chimaera that keeps us shackled to the dominant cultural narrative that I’ve expressed such disappointment and disillusionment with over the years.
In case it needs saying, hope (the etymology of the word is poorly defined) is based on a need or desire for something to change or be different in the future. Mostly, it’s about things getting better, not worse. And, assuming we’re in charge of our destiny — that’s questionable on so many levels — we figure that if do the right things etc., our lives will improve.
If it’s not as literal as this, then hope can be thought of as a state of mind necessary for us to have a positive outlook on life:
“I’m a hopeful sort of person.”
But what is it that people hope for? In Jenkinson’s case (see Die Wise) it was a long life, quick death or more time which equated to, although no one would put it this way, more time to die. In my bailiwick, it tends to hinge on a better quality of life, more prosperity, more success and all those other rather predictable signs that we’ve made it.
At this stage, I’m bound to ask, wearing my misanthrope’s hat, what happens when everyone — or at least all the hopeful ones — gets their allotted slice of the comfort-seeking good life that they believe is their entitlement?
You guessed it: the world degrades a lit bit faster than might otherwise be the case.
(If you’re hopeful that we’ll abate our earth-wrecking ways, that means all of us substantially and irreconcilably changing our lives and lifestyles. I’m not hopeful that that will ever happen!)
Apart then from the giddy heights of excess that hope might bring on, there’s also a generalised collusion with the better angels of our heart that to be hopeful gives us a purpose or something to life for.
And then there are all the other areas of our life where hope shows up — e.g. relationships, connection, love and battling cancer or a serious disease. No one would dare say, or it’s not good form, to fall to their existential knees and caress something other than the elixir of hope. That means you’ve given up and that’s not allowed.
At this stage, you might be wondering why, apart from the earth-wrecking point, what’s so wrong with holding hope aloft or relying on it to see us through our days? Nothing I suppose but I do wonder if hope isn’t at least one of the reasons why we’re trapped in the amber of a culture that’s in swoon to must-havery, comfort and of course living a long life. What do I mean? I mean, if we were to drop the pretence that we can all have the same standard of living, healthcare to die for and unlimited treatment options, that would seem much more realistic and in keeping with a finite world. Or another way to see this is to question if something (e.g. quality of life) can continue to rise higher and higher without there being any or any serious consequences?
One thing to mention before I leave you to enjoy your breakfast or whatever else you’ve got planned for the day, hope is also lauded for its ability to catalyse new or better behaviours that will improve our life. But what sort of behaviours? Well, my experience would suggest that they’re entirely anthropocentric which means that being a better version of ourselves, whatever the environmental cost. I might be wrong but I’ve never heard anyone hope they could stop growing, and be less damaging to the earth.
In the end, like so many things I write about, I’m sure I’ve got this all wrong. Sadly, though, even if that were the case that’s not enough to persuade me that I should adopt a more hopeful outlook on the world. As oxymoronic as it sounds, I’m much happier being hopeless or hope-free (not nihilistic) even if it makes people uncomfortable to be around me.
Blessings,
Julian