In a letter to his wife, Olga, Václav Havel, playwright and political dissident, wrote, “Hope is a dimension of the spirit. It is not outside us, but within us.” Havel penned this message from a Prague prison, where he was incarcerated from 1979 to 1983 for criticizing his nation’s government.
Havel’s embrace of hope might seem surprising. Following the Prague Spring, a brief period of liberalization, Czechoslovakia returned to Soviet rule. Authorities tightened control over law, media, and culture, leaving Havel to witness it all from a small cell.
Many Americans might see parallels between Havel’s situation and their own, particularly after a president’s reelection. A significant number of Democrats have traded hope for cynicism, believing that most voters are self-serving, prejudiced, and anti-democratic.
This is understandable, but not necessarily constructive. Dismissing large groups of Americans fuels undesirable trends. Research indicates that citizens distrustful of their fellow citizens are more likely to support authoritarian leaders who promise protection while eroding freedoms. Donald Trump exploited this, presenting a distorted vision that appealed to many. For example, violent crime has fallen for decades, yet many Americans—particularly those who support Trump—falsely believe it’s rising. This misperception favored Trump by over 25 percentage points. This isn’t limited to crime; Americans’ trust in institutions—education, science, and government—has declined significantly, most sharply among Republicans.
The 2024 election showed deep voter cynicism. The outcome might reasonably instill fear about the future.
Optimism—believing things will turn out well—might seem absurd given current events. But hope, as Havel understood in his cell, is different: it’s the belief that things *could* improve. It acknowledges the future’s uncertainty, while affirming the significance of our actions.
Hope is often mistakenly seen as naive, privileged, or even harmful—ignoring the world’s problems. This is inaccurate. Centuries ago, Thomas Aquinas described hope as striving for challenging goals, hardly effortless. Modern psychologists concur, viewing hope as a defense against despair in difficult times.
So, how does hope function, and how can it bring about change?
Hope involves three elements: a goal, the desire to achieve it (willpower), and a plan to pursue it (waypower). While optimists wait for a better future, hopeful individuals actively work towards it, often with great effort. This active approach strengthens people’s ability to achieve their aims.
Following this year’s election, hope can be used in two ways. First, it enhances well-being. Studies show hopeful individuals are more resilient during hardship, such as trauma and loss. Hope focuses us on what we can control, fostering agency, peace, purpose, and strength.
This isn’t simply self-care. Hope has fueled social movements globally. Psychologists have studied collective action, focusing on people’s willingness to fight for their beliefs. A key factor is a sense of efficacy—the belief that victory is possible. In other words, hope.
One source of hope among activists is the understanding that even when systems are unjust, most people are not. After prison, Havel resumed his activism. He wasn’t alone. His group, Charter 77, organized massive protests. Citizens displayed homemade protest signs, risking safety but also demonstrating the movement’s popularity. Within years, the regime fell, and Havel became the Czech Republic’s first president.
Today, too, good citizens abound. While conservative voters are incorrect about crime statistics, both sides misunderstand each other. Research reveals that over 80% of Americans—Democrats and Republicans alike—want more bipartisan cooperation and respect for the rule of law. A large majority support policies protecting the poor and vulnerable. But few know this.
Democrats and Republicans overestimate the extremism and hostility of their opponents. Media thrives on outrage, presenting exaggerated and inflammatory images of the “other side.” This prevents us from recognizing shared values.
Cynicism might feel comforting, but it’s a trap that hinders progress. Instead, we should embrace the hard work of hope: acknowledging shared humanity, seeking common ground, and building coalitions that transcend divisions. This isn’t naive; it’s strategic and necessary.
Democrats must build broader coalitions to counter cynical populism. In this, hope isn’t just an attitude—it’s the strategy.
