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Original article: https://theconversation.com/how-to-teach-hope-when-democracy-is-retreating-249926
In the wake of Donald Trump’s reelection, the United States has lurched further toward a democratic crisis.
Institutions once considered stable now feel precarious. The assault on truth — already well underway — has intensified, with political leaders openly flouting constitutional principles, suppressing dissent and dismantling democratic safeguards.
The rhetoric of grievance and retribution has become the soundtrack of public discourse.
The U.S. is not alone. Across the globe, democracy is in retreat. The list of nations such as Hungary, Poland, Brazil and India where autocrats and aspiring autocrats have tried to erode democratic norms is growing. Far-right movements in France, Germany, Finland and elsewhere, bolstered by economic anxieties and digital disinformation, stoke resentment and fear.
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People, exhausted by economic precarity and what author, activist and documentarian Astra Taylor calls the deliberate manufacturing of insecurity, are drawn to the false promise of strongman rule. The desire for stability — however undemocratic — threatens to eclipse commitments to liberty and justice.
For educators or civic leaders who teach young people about democracy these are not abstract concerns. Civic educators’ struggles to foster students’ civic engagement and strengthen their commitments to democratic institutions and the growing crisis in democracy makes these efforts even harder.
As a professor of democracy and education, and as an educator, I cannot promise young people that their efforts will always succeed. But I can assure them that whether in the face of victories or defeats, they are walking a powerful and worthwhile path.
(AP Photo/Altaf Qadri)
The risk of civic despair
One popular approach to strengthening commitments to democracy is to engage students in community projects that address difficult societal challenges.
Some teachers take students to engage in community work that is deeply tied to the curriculum, through approaches known as action civics or service learning.
But when young people take on social action projects — especially those aimed at addressing systemic injustices — the experience can backfire if it leads only to frustration and failure.
Studies have shown that students who participate in civic initiatives that do not produce tangible change often become less likely to engage in civic life in the future.
When efforts to improve conditions in their schools, communities or governments meet bureaucratic obstacles or outright resistance, young people do not always emerge more energized. Instead, many walk away discouraged, cynical and convinced that the system cannot be moved.
This is not to say that teachers, parents or other adult mentors should avoid encouraging activism — far from it. But if educators fail to prepare students for the realities of social change — that it can be slow and difficult — we risk reinforcing exactly the kind of disengagement we seek to combat.
If young people see the struggle for justice only as a series of disappointments, it’s easy to understand why they may turn away.
Redefining hope
To counter this despair, we need to redefine what it means to hope.
We need to cultivate the kind of hope that sustains action despite uncertainty — the kind that fuels long-term struggles for justice, even when victories are slow in coming.
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Václav Havel, the Czech playwright and political dissident who later became president, wrote that hope is not the same as choosing struggles that are headed for quick success: “Hope … is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.”
This distinction is vital. As I explore in my book about education for democracy, hope is not a guarantee of success, but the insistence that working for justice is meaningful in and of itself. When we work collectively on projects we believe in, we form bonds that are valued and energizing.
THE CANADIAN PRESS/Marta Iwanek
Howard Zinn, the late historian and activist, echoed this idea when he urged us to “hold out, even in times of pessimism, the possibility of surprise.”
Being part of something bigger
History is filled with unexpected turns, reversals and moments when change happens against all odds. As German theorist and activist Rosa Luxemburg wrote, before the revolution, everyone says it’s impossible. After, they say it was inevitable.
The singer-songwriter Holly Near expressed this artfully in her anthem to the many social change movements that have existed for as long as there have been things to improve. Change does not always happen at broadband speeds, but knowing one is part of a timeless march toward good goals makes much of what we do worthwhile. In her song “The Great Peace March,” Near sings:
“Believe it or not / as daring as it may seem / it is not an empty dream
To walk in a powerful path / neither the first nor the last / great peace march.”
Social change is about connecting with one another and being part of something larger than ourselves — a “powerful path” that stretches beyond any single moment or movement.
Hope as a practice
So how do we teach hope? How do we equip young people not just to work for change, but to sustain that work over the long haul?
First, we must be honest about setbacks. Too often, we romanticize past movements, presenting them as linear progressions toward justice. We do young people a disservice when we erase the years of struggle, failure and uncertainty that preceded social victories. A more honest history includes moments of despair as well as triumph.
Second, we must frame civic action as an ongoing practice rather than a single event. Students should see their work as part of a continuum.
Finally, we must model hope ourselves. Young people are watching us. If we meet today’s challenges with cynicism and resignation, they will learn that democracy is a lost cause. But if we demonstrate an enduring commitment to engagement and justice, they will see that democracy is not something we inherit; it is something we build.
We can promise young people that to engage in the work of justice is to be part of a legacy that stretches across generations. And that, I believe, is hope worth teaching.