15 Nov 24

Spaces of Hope: There Are Many Alternatives

By Nick Anim

"Each generation must, out of relative obscurity, discover its mission, fulfill it, or betray it." - Frantz Fanon.

Hope on a Tightrope

We find ourselves at a crucial crossroads in history. The world is gripped by overlapping crises - the climate and ecological emergency, growing inequality both within and between countries, the devastation of protracted wars, and a seemingly unstoppable and 'incremental genocide' unfolding before our eyes, broadcast across social media in real time. Meanwhile, societies around the world seem to be becoming more fragmented, intolerant, and polarised.

Beneath all the overwhelming catastrophes and challenges, it is quite clear that humanity is facing not only an existential crisis, but also something of an identity crisis. It is a crisis of belonging and othering. It is a crisis that calls many of us to wrestle with some of the most fundamental and inescapable questions about life and living. What does it mean to be human? Who are we to each other? How do we want to live together, within the boundaries of nature?

Unrelenting and interrelated forces of extractivism, exploitation, dehumanisation, division, and othering appear to be dominant in shaping the world around us, telling us to believe that there is no alternative to the status quo, no alternative to the onward march of market-driven forces, so that all we have to look forward to is, essentially, more of the same. That is what the historian Timothy Snyder describes as the 'politics of inevitability'. And, over time, that 'politics of inevitability' breaks and shifts, giving way to the 'politics of eternity', a situation where life becomes a constant cycle of doom and gloom, and wherein governments can no longer offer the promise of development as progress in any form. So, instead, what they do is increasingly manage their populations by manufacturing crises and manipulating emotions.

Against that doom-laden backdrop, systemic failures and societal injustices contribute to a pervasive sense of powerlessness, pessimism, and hopelessness across many communities. With hope on a tightrope, the 'politics of eternity' intravenously feeds pathologies of what the journalist and author Chris Hedges reminds us - in echoing studies by the historian Fritz Hern - is the 'politics of cultural despair'. That is a societal malaise which becomes manifest when traditional pathways for success and stability are eroded by economic decline, political corruption, and social disintegration, causing individuals to feel marginalised and abandoned by the very system(s) that should protect and elevate them. This culture of despair does not only undermine social cohesion, but it also fuels extremist ideologies and violent responses.

So, in the culture of despair, individuals and groups become more and more alienated and desperate. So much so that they invariably succumb to the tainted allure of dog-whistles that encourage what the anthropologist and cultural studies professor Roger Lancaster calls a 'poisoned solidarity' - the communal intoxication forged from the negative energies of fear, anger, suspicion, vigilance, vengeance, hatred, and mutual identification against any (false) 'demons' that are framed as posing an existential threat to the dominant identity or culture.

The seemingly unstoppable rise and success of sado-populist politicians - they who derive power by promising pain and hardship on vulnerable populations - symbiotically feeds into and feeds off 'poisoned solidarity' to entrench divisions within society. This type of solidarity capitalises on shared grievances and fears, and redirects societal anger towards marginalised or scapegoated groups rather than addressing the systemic causes at the root of widespread cultural despair and discontent. By encouraging horizontal hostility, such politicians distract public attention from the vertical, structural inequalities that require substantive political and economic reforms. This strategy does not only deepen societal divisions but also consolidates power by exploiting the very communities that are led to believe they are being protected or avenged, therefore perpetuating the divisions and distractions that hinder meaningful change.

Given all the above and much more that conspire to define this particular moment, our crucial crossroads in history, it is quite easy to understand why many people feel a sense of paralysis and hopelessness, resigned, as it were, to more or less accepting the status quo. This, though, is not a moment for resignation, but for transformation. As we look to the future, we must ask ourselves how we move beyond despair to create something different. We must ask ourselves how we can cultivate hope in our communities. We must ask ourselves what actions we are willing to take, even when there is so little empirical evidence for hope. What are we to do, when hope is on a tightrope?

The Necessity of Hope in Our Times

For many, the pathways to transformative change feel blocked. Week in week out, month in month out, year in year out, petition after petition, protest after protest, election after election, nothing seems to change. The dominant systems remain resilient. The promises of politicians and governments ring hollow. We will 'build back better', they said during the COVID-19 pandemic. And still, nothing has changed; same same, but different. The narrative we are constantly told is that things must remain as they are, the systems that created these crises are somehow unchangeable. But that narrative is but a myth, used to silence many alternatives that already exist, albeit in the margins, for meaningful transformations. Enter Transition.

Guided by a prefigurative organising approach, the Transition Network has long recognised this myth, noting that "If we wait for governments, it will be too late. If we act as individuals, it will be too little. But if we act as communities, it might just be enough, and it might just be in time." Where governments try to subdue us to become well-adjusted to injustice, and well-adapted to indifference, the Transition approach offers a defiantly positive and radical hope - a commitment to the idea that the goodness of the world transcends our many limited and vulnerable attempts to understand it. That type of hope should not be at all confused with unfettered or naive optimism, which is about observing the available evidence and predicting that things will improve. That is a spectator's viewpoint, assessing from a distance whether the circumstances suggest a positive outcome.

Radical Hope: More Than Just a Feeling

"To be truly radical is to make hope possible, rather than despair convincing."
- Raymond Williams

Hope in the tradition of the Transition Network is much more profound than optimism. It is not about looking at the evidence and inferring that everything will be fine. As the renowned philosopher, social critic, and political activist Cornel West explains, "where optimism says I see the evidence, and it looks like we can make it work, hope says, I don't give a damn about the odds, I am, we are, gonna to do it anyway." And so it is that radical hope in the Transition tradition is not a passive ingredient; it is an active, defiant choice. It is the belief that we have the power to shape the future, not because the evidence says we can, but because we refuse to let despair have the last word. And central to that refusal is the ability to imagine a future that is not bound by the numerous and continuous failures of the present. It requires us to confront our challenges with eyes wide open, and acknowledge the severity of the crises, while remaining committed to every possibility of change. It demands that we refuse to accept that nothing can be done.

The Transition hope, then, lies in 'the power of just doing stuff'. It is about being right in the thick of it, knee-deep in the funk of it, dealing with difficulties, and through our collective visions in community conversations, showing that there are many alternatives to the status quo of despair. That hope is dynamic, participatory, and rebellious, not merely observant. It lies in the power of untamed imaginations unleashed into collective actions. That hope can be found in the courage of communities coming together to reimagine and rebuild our world.

This defiantly positive and radical hope that is especially evident in the Transition approach, confronts our darkest realities - the interconnected crises of injustice, exploitation, division, environmental degradation, cultural despair - and still strives to create beauty and meaning. Therefore, when we speak of hope, we wrestle with our understanding of humanity and what it means to be human through time and space - past, present, and future. It is about how we relate to each other, nature, and our common future, based on our present understanding, and shaped by our past experiences. Radical hope in the Transition tradition is not just a passive virtue but an active verb - it requires us to embody it, it demands that we possess it.

Spaces of Hope: A Call to Action

It is in that Transition spirit of defiantly positive and radical hope that the Spaces of Hope: There Are Many Alternatives initiative was born. In a world that often seems paralysed by crises, these community conversations offer a different kind of space. Here, we are not just talking about the problems we face; we are talking about the alternatives that already exist - solutions that have been built from the ground up, in many communities across the world.

The conversations focus on the most pressing issues of our time: for example, housing, food security, health, education, youth affairs, co-operative communities, and mutual aid. But these gatherings are more than discussions - they are calls to action. They show us that while governments may fail, communities can still lead. These spaces offer the chance to come together, build solidarity, and showcase the people and projects already making a difference.

At the culmination of each conversation series, a survey and wider community consultations will help to democratically inform proposals for collective action. In that sense, the Spaces of Hope initiative is not about passively listening to inspiring presentations and then going home thinking "well, that was nice", with no follow-up. No! It is about co-learning and community 'meaning-making', which involves listening to each other, and sharing and crafting stories that resonate within and between different groups to guide a much better understanding of the world and our collective response to it. It is about turning our individual life experiences into powerful communal bonds and actions. Spaces of Hope is where alternative possibilities for our common future can be rigorously interrogated and then considered for collective action.

Our hope with the Spaces of Hope initiative is to nurture what the 'philosopher of hope' and cultural critic Ernst Bloch describes as "anticipatory consciousness" - envisioning a desired future state or outcome. That can help motivate and direct collective actions toward achieving our specific goals. It is about facilitating spaces where the seeds of future change are sown. It is in these spaces that we find the courage to create new ways of living and being together, planning for a future that is not only sustainable but also just, inclusive, and humane. And in that sense, Spaces of Hope is not wishful, but wilful; it is about doing what we can, and then some, to make the future we envision a reality.

Conclusion: Building Solidarity, Building Alternatives

The Spaces of Hope: There Are Many Alternatives initiative reflects a growing understanding that change does not come from the top down. It comes from the grassroots, it comes from people who refuse to accept the status quo and choose instead to create many alternatives from the bottom up. Across the globe, there are countless examples of this; community-led projects that are showing us the way forward energy co-operatives, urban farming initiatives, mutual aid networks, co-operative housing groups, savings clubs and much more. These initiatives are not just experiments, they are part of a broader movement towards a just, regenerative future.

The aim of Spaces of Hope is to demonstrate that while governments may fail, communities have the power to lead. This is not just desirable - it is essential. Even in the face of overwhelming adversity and despair, we, the people, have the power to create what the radical Martin Luther King Junior called a beloved community. By building solidarity across struggles, we can turn alternatives into realities, with models of change that can be scaled and adapted to different contexts.

In a world that insists there is no alternative, Spaces of Hope offers a defiant response: there are many alternatives. This is not about abandoning the fight, but about continuing to show up, to act, and to create the future we want to see. It is about facing the uncertainty of the future with courage and imagination, knowing that hope is not about feeling good - it is about taking action. Hope is a discipline. It is the practice of standing firm in the face of crises, and not allowing despair to control us. Hope is the refusal to let injustice remain or go unchallenged. It is the willingness to act, even when the evidence says it is impossible. It is about knowing that the future is not something we inherit, but something we create, together.

As Arundhati Roy writes, "Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing." Let us answer the call to build that world, not just with words, but with deeds. Let us create spaces of hope in our communities, and let those spaces be filled with love, solidarity and the defiant act of imagination that says "we're gonna do it anyway."