helplessness manifesto
What good is it to sing helplessness blues?1
I would be lying to you if I told you that, following the US election results this week, I had any hope left. No, that sad spark that I have sheltered for so long has flickered out, and I can no longer see a path forward. If I believed in gods I would be cursing their names. But despair and hopelessness have never helped anyone, especially not those who give up and let themselves wallow and catastrophize about it, and there are things that you and I can do, right now, wherever we are, whoever we are, to make the world a better place. And they don't require us to have a plan, or to shoulder the weight of the world.
God damn it, you've got to be kind.2
Kindness may not fix the world, but it makes it better, and it has to start with being kind to yourself. Don't doomscroll. Take breaks, hug your pets, go for walks, do the things you love to do. Let yourself feel what you're feeling, give yourself permission to be less than perfectly composed; cry if you need to, and talk to your friends about it. The road ahead will be long and arduous, and we'll need our strength for the days to come.
But also, of course, be kind to those around you. This might sound obvious but when we are feeling helpless it is important to focus on the things that are in our power to do. I do not have the power to fix the world; I do have it in my power to create a little moment of warmth and connection for the people in my life. I can reach out to my loved ones; I can smile at strangers and try to make them feel like they were seen. I can be patient and gracious. I can do my best to make people feel better for having interacted with me. It's not much. It won't solve every problem. But it can make someone's day, and even in the best of times, that is enough.
Truth and beauty bombs.3
On the day of the election I kept myself calm by watching the sky. It was one of those fitful days which really felt like fall: bright sun and bitter wind, clear skies and gloom and rain; on the way home, I saw a rainbow, there for not even a minute, and I had this moment of clarity: the sky does not care what happens. There will still be so much beauty in this world, whether or not the worst comes, and despite my inveterate pragmatism, I think that is important. So I am going to keep engaging with art and other forms of beauty. I will write stories and essays, and watch movies and read books and play games and have thoughts about them. I will still see a beautiful sky or landscape or tree and sometimes have to just stop and feel the absolute indifferent majesty of the world we live in, how small we are, how amazing it is that we even exist. We have been creating art for as long as we have been human, and it has gotten so many people through so many dark times.
And look. I'm not saying "oh this is going to produce so much good art"; a lot of the poetry left the world for me after the 2016 election, and I have struggled to find value in the art that I create ever since then. It will be harder than ever for a lot of us to continue creating art; we should create art anyway. We should engage with art anyway. It is so important.
Hang on to each other.4
Sartre famously said that hell is other people; less famously, in an interview in 1971, he said:
But that’s only that side of the coin. The other side, which no one seems to mention, is also “Heaven is each other.” … Hell is separateness, uncommunicability, self-centeredness, lust for power, for riches, for fame. Heaven, on the other hand, is very simple—and very hard: caring about your fellow beings.5
Solidarity lifts us up. If there is a way forward, it is this: joining hands, moving forward. If we focus on fixing what we can, if we focus on helping each other, we can bring about change. This is how we rekindle the spark of hope. Institutions cannot save us, but you and I can provide shelter to those who need it, and encouragement to those who are despairing.
I don't know what the road ahead looks like. But I will be here, doing what I can. And whatever happens, we will face it together.
A question asked in the Fleet Foxes song "Helplessness Blues", which inspired the title of this post.↩
Kurt Vonnegut's advice to newborn babies remains some of the best advice out there: "Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you've got a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies: God damn it, you've got to be kind."↩
One of A Softer World's most iconic comics.↩
I have found a lot of comfort in A Silver Mt. Zion's music in these times; "Hang On To Each Other" is one of their songs.↩
This version of the quote appears on 1000 Word Philosophy's post on Sartre.↩