The headline in this week’s Washington Post read “Americans’ optimism is dying.” The reporter, Dana Milbank, wrote “It is the very essence of the American Dream: an irrepressible confidence that our children will live better than we do. And now it is gone. It has been slipping for some time, really, but a Wall Street Journal/NBC News poll this month put an exclamation point on Americans’ lost optimism. When asked if ‘life for our children’s generation will be better than it has been for us,’ fully 76 percent said they do not have such confidence. Only 21 percent did. That was the worst ever recorded in the poll; in 2001, 49 percent were confident and 43 percent not.”
While I’m not going to completely dispute the veracity of the poll, I would argue Milbank’s premise that our loss of optimism justly indicates that our nation is now primarily united by one thing: a collective lost faith in our country. With all its faults, the United States of America remains one of the great countries in the world. It has, and does, offer individual freedom and opportunity that is mostly unmatched in the history of the world.
I believe that our collective problem is not that we’ve lost faith in our country, but that our true malady is that we have lost faith in ourselves.
As the philosopher/author Noam Chomsky so aptly put it, “Optimism is an individual strategy for making a better future. Because unless you believe that the future can be better, you are unlikely to step up and take responsibility for making it so.”
The optimistic person is not a person in a certain set of circumstances, but rather a person with a certain set of attitudes. The following story well illustrates this contrast:
There was once a traveler who was walking from a village in the mountains to a village in the valley.
As he walked along, he saw a monk working in a field, so he stopped and said to the monk, “I’m on my way to the village in the valley, can you tell me what it’s like?”
The monk looked up from his labor and asked the man where he had come from.
The man responded, “I have come from the village in the mountains.”
“What was that like?” the monk asked.
“Terrible!” the man exclaimed, “no-one spoke my language, I had to sleep on a dirt floor in one of their houses, they fed me some sort of stew that had yak or dog or both in it and the weather was atrocious.”
“Then I think that you will find that the village in the valley is much the same,” the monk noted.
A few hours later another traveler passed by and he said to the monk, “I am on my way to the village in the valley, can you tell what it’s like?”
“Where have you come from?” enquired the monk.
“I have come from the village in the mountains.”
“And what was that like?”
“It was awesome!” the man replied, “No one spoke my language so we had to communicate using our hands and facial expressions. I had to sleep on the dirt floor which was really cool as I’ve never done that before. They fed me some sort of weird stew and I have no idea what was in it but just to experience how the locals lived was great and the weather was freezing cold, which meant that I really got a taste of the local conditions. It was one of the best experiences of my life.”
“Then I think that you’ll find that the village in the valley is much the same,” responded the monk.
Some years ago, Dr. Dennis Charney, the dean of Mount Sinai School of Medicine, conducted a study wherein he and his colleagues examined more than 30 Vietnam war veterans who were held as prisoners of war for six to eight years. Tortured and kept in solitary confinement, these 30 plus men were remarkably resilient. Unlike many fellow veterans, they did not develop depression or post-traumatic stress disorder after their release, even though they endured extreme hardship and stress. What was their secret? After extensive interviews and tests, Charney found ten characteristics that set them apart. The top one was optimism. The second was altruism. Humor and having a meaning in life — or something to live for — were also important.
To sum things up, I leave you with an observation made by the two-time Nebula Award Nominee and member of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, Vera Nazarian:
“An optimist is neither naive, nor blind to the facts, nor in denial of grim reality. An optimist believes in the optimal usage of all options available, no matter how limited. As such, an optimist always sees the big picture. How else to keep track of all that’s out there? An optimist is simply a proactive realist.
An idealist focuses only on the best aspects of all things (sometimes in detriment to reality); an optimist strives to find an effective solution. A pessimist sees limited or no choices in dark times; an optimist makes choices.
When bobbing for apples, an idealist endlessly reaches for the best apple, a pessimist settles for the first one within reach, while an optimist drains the barrel, fishes out all the apples and makes a pie.
Annoying? Perhaps. But, oh-so tasty!”
Have an AWE-full weekend!
William J. “Bill” Bacqué