Optimism versus Hope

The other day I was talking with a friend about the difference between optimism and hope. The optimist, we discussed, believes that everything is fine and will continue to be fine. A hopeful individual, on the other hand, accepts when life is not good, but recognizes that through change life can expand, and hopefully, move into something richer—a more fulfilling way of being. Change is not necessarily easy. Hope does not make any promises. We cannot control the future, but we can work towards a better one.

Reflecting on this, I realized that I am not an optimist. Over the past few months, I have become a self-appointed “peak-nik.” The topic of peak oil has consumed my free time—however small. Well-meaning family and friends cannot understand my obsession with this topic and on the surface neither can I. I am sucked in daily by energy websites that I have a compulsive need to “check.” Based upon months of reading and reflection, I can say with some certainty that the future does not look good. In actuality, it freaks me out. I have two small children, for god’s sake. Topics such as the potential die-off of millions of people, the mass migrations of people seeking warmth, food and water, and the complete fragmentation of the modern industrial state are not cheery subjects. It would be easy to dismiss such scenarios if they were posited by a lunatic fringe, but these scenarios come from unlikely sources including many of the world’s top scientists and geologists, and even the US Department of Energy. As Roscoe Bartlett, Chairman of the Projection Forces Subcommittee of the Armed Services Committee presented to the US Congress this past March;

“ ‘…civilization as we know it is coming to an end soon.’ I hope not. This is not the wacky proclamation of a doomsday cult, apocalypse Bible sect or conspiracy theory society. Rather, it is a scientific conclusion of the best-paid, most widely respected geologists, physicists and investment bankers in the world. These are rational, professional, conservative individuals who are absolutely terrified by the phenomenon known as global peak oil.”

I have never been a huge advocate of the suburban way of life, preferring to live in more urban settings where I can easily walk or take public transport, so when I first heard about peak oil, I was perversely excited. Good, no more SUV’s on the road, no more bland suburban strip malls nor unwalkable cul-de-sac neighborhoods. We will be forced into a more communal way of living (ha!). After further investigation I came to understand the sick yet profound hold that cheap energy has upon our society and my individual lifestyle. I love going to the movies, I love to travel, I love rock n’ roll, I love chocolate, I love my newly renovated home. It is doubtful that these past-times would exist on the same scale and intensity for most of us, if it were not for cheap energy. Our entire economic infrastructure is based upon growth, new markets and expansion.

James Howard Kunstler in the Long Emergency says that the Pacific Northwest is one of three regions of the United States, “less likely to fall into lawlessness, anarchy or despotism and more likely to salvage the bits and pieces of our best social traditions and keep them in operation at some level.” For the last 15 years I have studied architecture and urban design in varying capacities, and the shaping of community or social traditions has been my primary pursuit. Spokane and the Pacific Northwest are important places to me. I have lived in various cities throughout the United States and Europe and enjoyed them thoroughly. But they were not my place. Spokane is. I know my neighbors and I live in the neighborhood I grew up in. The beauty of its setting and people continue to inspire and awe me. My children can walk to school and neighbors plan potlucks and yard sales on the tree-lined boulevard that runs down the center of the street. We share childcare and discuss politics. I realize that this is an anomaly, but to me, this is the best of human culture.

Steven Lagavulin in his blog entitled The Collapse of Civilization and the Rebirth of Community says that, “if our relationship with the Earth is to continue, we will need to transform our human culture and society completely,” and that possibly, peak oil is “an image that can help us prepare.” So rather than dismiss the incredibly sordid details of the pending collapse of the industrial world, I recognize them and have even come to accept them. What does this mean for my life and my children? I don’t know, but I have hope that we can move forward even through periods of enormous upheaval.

What are the questions we should be asking? How can our society change, and move into a truly sustainable system? What are healthy, viable alternatives to the standard “American Way of Life?” What does a new society look like? As a member of the Inland Northwest community, I want to help to envision something else, something more authentic. I also know that there are many wonderful, passionate people in this community that work for these ideals on a daily basis and I want more people to be aware of this.

Hopefully this blog site can enrich the Sustainable Living column I write for OutThere Monthly as well as aid in the transformation of society and in particular the Inland Northwest. It will not be simply a survivalist manifesto. I am not hoarding food and water, but I am planning an edible landscape. I am not stock-piling guns and ammo, but I did purchase a tankless hot water heater that can be operated with solar power. I believe that our move toward decentralized local communities is imperative for our survival, but beyond that it is also our opportunity to create truly responsible, life-affirming communities.