The Great Horse Manure Crisis of 1894 warned: “Within 50 years, every street in London will be buried under nine feet of manure.” From London to New York, thousands of horse carts were carrying people and goods, and cities’ soiled streets were spreading death and disease. Urban civilisation seemed doomed. But then came Henry Ford.
Today, the urgent need to decarbonise transportation globally seemed an insurmountable challenge. But then came Elon Musk — part villain, part saviour.
Necessity is the mother and father of invention, and these examples illustrate the boundless human capacity for creative problem-solving when our backs are against the wall. They also show we have an imperfect and overly pessimistic track record of predicting the future.
We can look at the crises we face in a way that is less about futility and more about uncertainty. As author and environmental activist Rebecca Solnit says, “We don’t know what is going to happen, or how, or when, and that very uncertainty is the space of hope.”
Despair comes from misplaced certainty. Hope comes when we can see a way forward — a refusal to take “unprecedented” events as evidence that we are incapable of doing things better.
Human nervous systems are hardwired through evolution to focus on the negative. Coined the negativity effect, narrowing in on the bad over the good developed as a way of protecting ourselves from dangerous threats. Negativity is imprinted in our genetics.
But if we want to change our story as a species, we must change the stories we tell ourselves. Even the world’s most famous natural historian confesses to optimism. Following the launch of his latest BBC series this month, David Attenborough asserts: “It’s easy to feel overwhelmed and powerless by the scale of the issues facing our planet, but we have the solutions.”
Belief in a better future is not about false hope or sitting passively on the sidelines. It is about rolling up our sleeves. Each and every one of us can cultivate active hope, grounded in practical, daily decisions.
From the dogged determination of scientists attempting to save precious reefs that face coral bleaching, to volunteer groups committing their time to predator control, active hope is the driver bringing us out of our dire situations. The conviction that something is worth doing no matter how it turns out.
Here are some good-news stories as an antidote to doom and gloom: last spring, seal populations were seen flourishing at Whanganui’s coast and rivers, with scientists observing these marvellous mammals are recolonising their range right across New Zealand, having previously been devastated by the 19th-century sealing industry. Whio, rarer than some species of kiwi, are increasing in the Whanganui river, thanks to the success of predator-free initiatives. Last year, Bushy Park Tarapuruhi Sanctuary became home once again to some long-lost residents, the treasured pōpokotea whitehead, relocated there to help them thrive.
To quote from an old Charles Dickens tale, we are living in the best of times, and the worst of times.
Hope may well be the only thing keeping the human tale from ending in despair.
Ka mua, ka muri.
– Anne-Elise Smithson is a former elected representative, strengths-based feminist, and hopeful environmentalist.
