Optimism can come and go in all spheres of our lives, much as widely felt waves of it can pass in and out of cultural relevancy. In 2004 I co-wrote a manifesto about it with curator Brianna Toth, which we called Optimism as Cultural Rebellion. It did not specify what one might be optimistic about, instead stating solemnly that, ‘What should not be forgotten is that optimism allows for positive, energetic transformation and should not be feared’. At that time, as a recently graduated 22-year-old, it felt urgent and transgressive to propose the adoption of optimism as a neglected, yet crucial intellectual position. Other artists were discussing notions of ‘utopia’ that seemed connected to what I was thinking, but, in contrast to my earnest efforts, seemed to be cynically toying with the idea to highlight a perceived danger present in all forms of idealism. In response, I wrote, ‘Although it is potentially dangerous to extol ideologies, it is surely valuable to be idealistic’. I was arguing for a superfluid sense of idealism that did not have singular fixed goals and which might therefore avoid the totalitarianism of rigid ideologies that they seemed to fear.

In March 2008, I initiated a project entitled Interconnected Echoes, a year-long series of weekly salons. I sat in the same place every Saturday afternoon at 3pm and invited people with whom I had started conversations in nightclubs to come and discuss various subjects. We worked on finding critical definitions for an optimism that could be believed in and started to unpick its problematic nature. I had long rejected the idea of blind optimism, defining my own as active and ‘the vital force that entangles itself with and then shapes the future’. From our discussions the idea arose that without acknowledging the difficulties of the world, optimism might have to be defined as ‘triumph over suffering’. I now think of this ‘vital force’ as amoral in nature and recognize that the power of optimism can be applied to anything. In 2005, David Cameron, now British prime minister, spoke of his desire to be a voice of ‘change, optimism and hope’, while during Obama’s first presidential election campaign in 2008 the word ‘hope’ became the iconic visual foothold of his rise to power.

My desire to find meaning in optimism has always been part of innocently looking for ways towards a better world. Perhaps it’s just that I am older and less naive, but the current political landscape, mediated by the Internet, seems to have raised the general awareness of global politics. Looming environmental disaster, the movement of refugees and the killing of African-Americans by US police, the last highlighted by the Black Lives Matter movement, have all triggered a shift in my own readiness to discuss optimism’s importance. Optimistic thought without action will not fix broken systems. In fact, pitching optimism as the primary means of self-actualization for those facing genuine adversity can be a patronizing tool of oppression. By-your-bootstraps philosophies tacitly reassert the toxic idea that inequality arises from the attitudes of those who are oppressed rather than the systemic violence enacted upon them. So with this in mind, is there still place for a critical understanding of, or commitment to, the importance of optimism as a tool for positive change? Given the opportunities the powerful have, aren’t they the most likely to feel optimistic? After all, to some degree, optimism is a privilege and how easily one feels it is often limited by the very same situations that might most demand its transformative potential. Over time I have learned from personal experience that it is sometimes very difficult to feel optimistic: if life is tough it is usually harder to feel optimistic about changing it.

I used to think that proposing optimism was culturally rebellious; I have come to understand it to be politically sensitive. Yet even now I still see its power to affect all types of change as undeniable. I can accept that pessimists may predict the future with more accuracy, while still believing that it is optimists who create it. I don’t think it’s realistic to expect those who dominate to stop feeling optimistic about maintaining the status quo. Which leaves us with a continuing challenge: how do we find new ways to get optimism to those having the hardest time feeling it?