Beyond Cynicism: Three Steps to Make Hope Your Strategy

Today’s International Day of Hope isn’t simply a calendar date; it’s a call to action. It reminds us that, even amid entrenched inequality and paralysis, belief in a plan for a better future remains our most powerful weapon. 

According to psychologist Charles R. Snyder’s Hope Theory, hope is the combination of conviction and agency to pursue pathways towards achieving our goals—it just so happens to also feel nice. As human beings, we need to believe that things can get better. That’s why the idea of meritocracy or the so-called “American dream” remains so powerful, even when the research doesn’t support it. The belief that hard work alone can help us “pull ourselves up by bootstraps” endures, despite the phrase being coined to describe something literally impossible.

The real obstacle to a more just and equal world isn’t necessarily polarization, disinformation, or apathy, but cynicism—even among those of us fighting for change. In many contexts, consensus on policy preferences already exists. Our task isn’t merely to make the case for specific reforms, but to rekindle hope that change is achievable and that there is a pathway that can win and will deliver results. 

As Hope-Based Communications founder Thomas Coombes says, “We need to shift our focus from what currently is, to showing what could be. From raising awareness to changing awareness.”

Writing the World We Want to See

What we often miss when confronting the rise of divisive and polarizing narratives that pit groups against one another is that these stories succeed not only through scapegoating and blaming but also by offering hope: a promise of belonging, safety, and pride. What if, for some people, it’s not the hate that draws them in, but the hope—and we are not giving them any alternative?

Last week, I joined British economist and activist Dr. Faiza Shaheen to lead a workshop for 20 Atlantic Fellows for Social and Economic Equity—social change-makers from all around the world—focused on “writing the world we want to see.” We have run a few similar dialogues before at Pathfinders and the Center for Labour and Social Studies, and what struck me most was how difficult it is to articulate a clear vision of a better future—or even to describe the outcomes of the policy changes we’re advocating for. 

Too often, we default to familiar terrain—technicalities of policy design, human rights frameworks, Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) targets, or (my personal favorite avoidance technique) dissecting the complex roots of our challenges. It’s safer terrain to recount what’s gone wrong with certainty than to imagine what could go right. 

It’s not enough to simply be against harm or injustice—we need to offer people a vision of something better to move towards. Below are three strategic pivots we can all make, whether we’re researchers, policymakers, or simply speaking with friends and colleagues:

1. Lead with shared values, the vision of the world most of us want and care about

Anchor every message and strategy in the aspirations that unite most of us—freedom, safety, love, care, pride, family—before delving into data or policy details. Believing in freedom, working hard for your family, or treating others as you would like to be treated, for example, are all values. “Divisive entrepreneurs” often tap into people’s fears, pride, sense of belonging, and family; yet, too often, we make only scattered attempts to appeal to people’s better selves, defaulting instead to facts, problem lists, or jargon. Advocates often rely on shocking statistics and technical details, but research shows this overloads people and triggers a threat response that quite literally shuts off parts of the brain. To move hearts and minds, we must first connect emotionally, rooted in the things most of us care about, before introducing policies or problems.

Failing to ground our work in shared values sends precisely the wrong signal—that life can’t improve, that our only goal is to prevent further decline, and that dreaming of a better future is naïve. It makes us appear out of touch and reinforces the belief that “this is as good as it gets.” And when that message is coming from relatively elite groups, it can come across as dismissive. Or more commonly, we get stuck in defense, repeating divisive claims in an effort to refute them. But this only reinforces harmful associations, like linking the word “illegal” with “refugee.”

Instead, paint a vivid picture of the world we’re fighting to create: describe what it feels like to live in a community where everyone can afford a home, where families feel safe walking the streets, and where fair wages from employers mean families can put food on the table. As American political strategist and author Anat Shenker-Osorio says, “sell the brownie, not the recipe.” People must first feel the promise of what’s possible before they care about buying the box of ingredients.

Meeting people emotionally through shared values doesn’t replace rigorous policy work; it opens the door to it. Once hearts are engaged, we can guide our audiences towards the technical solutions that will bring that vision to life.

2. Hope is the plan: Tell the story

Once we’ve grounded people in shared values, we must lay out a clear narrative of how we get from here to there. Divisive entrepreneurs succeed with a simple formula: identify a problem, name the villain, and promise that eradicating them makes everything better. We need the same clarity—who is blocking a living wage, obstructing a wealth tax, defunding schools, stoking division, and what concrete steps people can take.

While societal problems are complex, structural, and often generations in the making, a story that recognizes that these are human-made decisions is vital.  Framing them as human-made (as the anti-right actors do) makes change seem possible. By exposing these as human-made decisions, we restore agency: people realize that inclusive change isn’t a vague ideal but a series of choices by identifiable actors. 

When we’re not clear about who is making the decisions that cause harm or block progress, that vacuum gets filled with scapegoating—of migrants, women, queer communities, and people in poverty. And we must be explicit about what we want people to do next. Ambiguous asks lead to inaction. Whether it’s calling your representative, joining a community coalition, or voting for a specific measure, offer clear, doable steps that map onto the vision you’ve painted.

Achieving this requires plain language and vivid imagery—jargon and wonky policy-speak only push people away. Yet, escaping these “language-games” is challenging for a number of reasons: for some, it’s what they are taught at university or in professional training institutions; for others, it’s hard-won terminology that has given power to name harms and struggles that have now been captured. Even so, that same language often creates in-groups and—most importantly—can mask our own uncertainty about what a better world really looks like. To truly connect, we must shed the obfuscation and paint our vision in clear and plain terms.

Describe what dignity looks like in everyday life: a parent tucking their child into a warm bed, a worker raising a union contract that guarantees safety, a community where no one lives in fear. Facts matter—but our brains are hard-wired for stories. When hope becomes the plan, telling the story isn’t optional; it’s our most powerful strategy.

3. We’ve overcome before—and we can again

Reject the defeatist story that society is irretrievably broken or hopelessly divided. Every era hears talk of a “tipping point” or “watershed moment”—a narrative that implies “if it’s not happening now, it’s too late”. But who gains from this fatalism?

Instead, anchor our vision in real victories: grassroots campaigns that reshaped policy, social movements that extended rights, and communities that rebuilt after crises. None of these triumphs came without friction, struggle, or were necessarily permanent, but they happened nonetheless: whether it was the long struggle for universal suffrage, the abolition of the transatlantic slave trade, the expansion of workers’ rights, anti-colonial and independence movements, or the end of apartheid in South Africa. In just one generation, love and marriage have gone from being illegal everywhere in the world when I was born to being a recognized right in 38 countries today.

History is full of people daring to hope in far darker times than ours. By recalling and celebrating these wins, we unlock emotions—joy, pride, determination—that shatter cynicism and spur us into action. We also shed light on the countless small and large ways we bring about material change to people’s lives, bridge divides, and demonstrate our shared humanity. This ethos drives NYU’s Center on International Cooperation (CIC): we must always bring a rich menu of policy solutions and concrete examples. Our Inequality Solutions Portal—showcasing inclusive policymaking in Kerala, India, expanded access to justice in Colombia, and universal childcare in Sweden—proves that what we advocate for isn’t merely aspirational but is already unfolding, one courageous step at a time.

This isn’t naïveté; it’s an adaptive strategy. Real social change has never come from facts and analysis alone. It thrives on shared belief, solidarity, and the conviction that a better world is not only imaginable but achievable, if we build it together.

Hope is not the opposite of realism—it’s the fuel for it.

Hope is not soft. Hope is not naïve. Hope is power. 

And today, of all days, we remember: hope is a verb.