The new year can be a time of hope, of fresh starts. But given the state of our world, the continuing genocide in Gaza, Russia’s war in Ukraine, war in Sudan, the right-wing backlash against vital climate action, hope is in short supply. And when we start to feel hopeless, that is surely intertwined with a sense of powerlessness.
And yet, we have phrases that push us forward – hope against hope or in the dark then light a candle. Or more thoughtful insights into hope, not least from former Czech dissident then President, Václav Havel, who emphasised hope was not the same as optimism but a determination to keep doing the right thing: “Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously headed for early success, but, rather, an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed.”
As we wait for Trump’s inauguration or watch Elon Musk’s backing for the far right leap from country to country, from the UK’s Nigel Farage to the AfD in Germany, or despair of the 16 months of massacre in Gaza still continuing, it’s hard to grasp at hope and easy to feel powerless.
The Cambridge dictionary defines megalomania as: “an unnaturally strong wish for power and control, or the belief that you are very much more important and powerful than you really are.” If your wealth, like Elon Musk, amounts to over $400 billion, then you might be right to consider yourself powerful as you stand at Trump’s shoulder – what professor Timothy Snyder has labelled ‘Trumpomuskovia’.
But perhaps Musk’s megalomaniacal desire to influence and control across borders is some weird sign of insecurity – he can never have enough control, enough influence. And despite the deep cracks in the foundations of American democracy, then using democracy, law, collective action is the road to defending ourselves against the megalomaniacs. Whether in the US, Germany, the EU, the UK or other countries around the world, it is holding the Trumps, Musks and all our other ‘leaders’ and powerful businesses to account that is the order of the day, surely.
And it’s hard to see the brave demonstrators in Georgia coming out day after day and night after night and not to feel, and applaud, their hope and bravery. Or to hope for better days in Syria, now the brutal Assad has gone.
In the UK, hope may be in short supply too in the face of the stuttering, right-wing performance of Keir Starmer’s government so far. His mantra of growth at all sakes, as he grasps at deregulation or consorts with unsavoury governments around the world, and still arms Israel, is not hopeful. Nor is the implicit but core belief that growth will trickle down (how, why?) and make people feel better than they do now. But there has been a sustained outcry against the foolishly mean cut in the winter fuel payment to pensioners. There is a growing understanding in the UK of the need for climate action. There is still space for dissent and action and holding to account – and a continuing need to defend that space including as climate campaigners are imprisoned.
In Scotland, the hope that drove many to vote for Labour last July, is now turning back towards hope for independence. The 2026 election is looking like an open and important democratic contest. Across the UK, despite Starmer’s Boris Johnson-like claim that Brexit is done, there is growing support for closer ties to the EU and for rejoining.
None of this makes the deeply unstable, conflict-ridden and disturbing world we live in any less real. But hope, action, speaking truth to power, holding to account in the myriad ways we do that, is still our best chance of containing those out of control, more powerful people and organisations – and not giving up.
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