Introduction
Turning point - This title of the Guardini Day 2023 to mark the 100th anniversary of Romano Guardini's inaugural lecture in Berlin is neutral in itself. Changes can be for the better or for the worse, or even towards something that is neither better nor worse, but only different from what currently exists. In the present context, however, politicians are using the term to describe the situation that Russia's war of aggression against Ukraine has put the world in. It is currently also taking on a broader meaning in view of the unstoppably worsening climate crisis, right-wing populist attacks on democracies that were previously thought to be stable, painful pandemic experiences with the limits of our healthcare systems, growing migration movements caused by hunger and war and now also the fear of a conflagration in the Middle East. At the moment, it seems that the turning point means above all disillusionment, loss of optimism and the frightened realisation that time is running out to fundamentally reorganise ourselves and leave a habitable world for future generations.
In the following, I will discuss what meaning hope can have in such a time. I will take a closer philosophical look at the phenomenon of hope and in particular analyse the difference between hope and optimism. Can hope remain even if optimism goes?
Linked to this topic is the question of what role hope plays in our actions, especially in times of crisis. This is one of the oldest and sharpest controversies in philosophical theories of hope. Many contemporary authors ascribe to hope a conative, action-guiding power (see, for example, Pettit 2004, Meirav 2009, Chignell 2023). On the other hand, there is an influential tradition that sees hope primarily as a stumbling block to action and a dangerous temptation to illegitimate escape from the present. According to a traditional objection, hope puts us off until the future and encourages passivity and fatalism. Those who hope put their hands in their laps and leave it to others to actively influence the here and now, which is why hope is an evil. At least that is the accusation. Nietzsche, for example, one of the most eloquent haters of hope, attacks hope in a frequently quoted passage in The human, the all-too-human Nietzsche takes up Hesiod's famous myth, which he uses to illustrate the anthropological role of hope (elpis) in the figure of Pandora. Hope, according to Nietzsche, is not a good, but the greatest evil that has ever befallen mankind:
"[T]hen Pandora, according to Zeus' will, slammed the lid shut. Man now has the barrel of happiness in his house for ever, and thinks he marvels at what a treasure he has in it; ... for he does not know that the barrel which Pandora brought was the barrel of evils, and thinks the evil left behind is the greatest good of happiness - it is hope. ... [It] is in truth the worst of evils, because it prolongs the torment of men" (Nietzsche 1878, no. 71, Berlin edition, p. 79 f.).
Nietzsche's criticism is part of a long tradition of criticising hope. In the Timaeus, Plato critically calls hope "seductive", and according to Aristotle, it mainly occurs in inexperienced youth, because for them (and only for them) "the future is still long and the past is short" (Rhetoric, 110-11). Seneca sees hope (spes) as closely related to fear and considers both to be "impulses of a wavering mind" that is unsettled by looking to the future:
"But the most important cause of both [hope and fear] lies in the fact that we do not send ourselves into the present, but let our thoughts wander hastily into the distance. Hence it is that the faculty of foresight, that greatest good of limited humanity, turns to evil" (Seneca, Epistulae, 5.7-5.8).
In early modern philosophy, Pascal echoes this sentiment when he says that with hope we - unreasonably - try to anticipate the future "as if we wanted to speed up its course":
"Thus we never live, but hope to live, and so it is inevitable that in our willingness to be happy we never are" (Pascal, Pensèes, 47-172).
In the 20th century, Albert Camus in The myth of Sisyphus (Essay 1, The absurd and suicide), hope, especially the hope for a different life, a "deception of those who do not live for life" ("tricherie de ceux qui vivent non pour la vie elle-même", Camus 2022/1965, p. 20). And Günther Anders demands unapologetically,
"Avoid hope [...]. For no one will act through hope. Everyone who hopes leaves the improvement to another entity" (Anders 1987, 151f.).
The accusation is by no means limited to stoic, nihilistic or existential philosophical traditions. Victoria McGeer, for example, a representative of recent Anglo-American philosophy, also says that hope obviously occurs in situations in which it is true:
"[O]ur own agency is irrelevant to the occurrence of the hoped-for end. We hope for something that could not be in any way affected by our efforts to bring it about, e.g., we hope that the weather will improve, we hope that our friend's test results will be good, we hope that no one was injured in yesterday's fire, and so on" (McGeer 2008, p. 244).
The list of hope analyses of this tenor could go on and on. Let us briefly name the core objection of critiques of hope that are based on the alleged power of hope to inhibit action, the Passivity objection: Hope, so the idea goes, is (morally) bad because it condemns its bearers to inaction. In the following, I will analyse and reject this objection to some extent. More precisely, as a general objection to hope, it will prove to be misguided. Certain hopes do not in fact invite actions that are based on them: Someone who has bought a lottery ticket hopes to have won the jackpot, but will refrain from taking out a loan for their dream property based on this hope alone. After buying a lottery ticket, there is nothing more we can do to bring about what we have hoped for. Specific motivations for action are missing, hope remains. Hopes, this much is largely uncontroversial, contain wishes.
But although the wishes of a widespread action-based wish analysis although they are fundamentally motivating for action, as components of hope they obviously often have no conative power. This is what advocates of the passivity objection seem to have in mind. However, I would argue that they are making a false conclusion of inadmissible generalisation. Because what may apply to certain cases of hope does not apply to others. In fact, hope is often a particularly strong driving force for action. In any case, I will justify and defend this thesis to some extent below.
Overall, this raises the following three questions in particular:
(i) The explication question: What is hope? What exactly does the term refer to, and what role does hope play in the human soul?
(ii) The axiological question: Does hope have a positive value or is it an evil? More precisely: Is hope at least sometimes a good thing, or is it generally a bad attitude because it always tempts us to shirk our responsibility for the present?
(iii) The praxeological question: Does hope have a conative, action-guiding role?
These questions are closely related; answers to one of them have implications for answers to the others. The question of value defines conditions for an explication: A characterisation of what hope is should be able to explain what makes hope good and valuable, if it is, or why it is not. Furthermore, the explication question also leads to the praxeological question and, if this can be answered positively, this has implications for the question of value. Perhaps hope is not a good thing wherever it has the power to motivate action. (The mass murderer hopes to find new victims soon.) But it is reasonable to say that at least hopes are good hopes where they motivate good actions.
I begin with a seemingly paradoxical recommendation by Romano Guardini, according to which we should - even and especially in bad times - "hope against hope". Starting from this, I outline the core of the standard philosophical analysis of hope, according to which hope must fulfil a wish condition and a belief condition - a volitive and a probabilistic-doxastic condition - and explain an important conceptual difference between hope and optimism (section 2). I then argue that both hope and optimism presuppose not only a desire and an assessment of the probability that the desired will materialise, but also the conviction that the desired cannot be achieved by one's own efforts alone. I thus subscribe to a position that is referred to in the literature on hope as the "theory of the external factor" (external factor account) is being discussed.
According to my thesis, proponents of the passivity objection implicitly rely on the observation that the awareness of the effectiveness of an "external factor" for the fulfilment of hope is constitutive for them; however, they have misunderstood this observation or are relying on a false version of the theory. For it is by no means the case that those who hope can never contribute to the realisation of what is desired. Often, despite knowing that our influence is limited, we can very well directly or indirectly promote the realisation of what we hope for and do so precisely because of hope. Consequently, the objection of passivity, unrestricted as it is put forward by many critics, is misguided. Using a case-by-case distinction between different forms of hope, I develop a diagnosis of the passivity objection and a theory of error that explains why advocates of the objection defend it. My diagnosis is that they focus one-sidedly on a particular kind of example, obstruct their proper view by a one-sided example bias, and therefore get carried away into a hasty generalisation (section 3). Finally, I summarise the results of my discussion and identify open questions for future philosophical research on the topic of hope (section 4).
"Hoping against hope", the wish-conviction analysis and the concept of optimism
Our colloquial language is rich in expressions that we use to describe hopes and how we deal with them. We have hopes, develop, cherish, nurture or keep them; we make or take them from ourselves and others, indulge in them or lose them, give them up, destroy them, shatter them, let them die, are without or free of hope. Hopes can be certain or uncertain, indefinite, vague, justified, legitimate, beautiful, big or small, trivial, meaningful or existential, they can be fulfilled or frustrated. There are unreasonable, empty, false, delusional, vain, naïve, deceptive, deceptive, illegitimate, illusory and blind hopes. The list of examples could go on and on. This is not the place to systematically delve into linguistic and etymological analyses of these and other examples of our linguistic use of hope. However, I would like to start with a phrase about hope that Guardini uses in a letter and which does not appear in the above list.
Guardini developed his theological work under the impression of turning times. Of interest for the present question is a reflection on hope that he made in the 1960s, looking back on the catastrophes of the first half of the 20th century, presumably the Shoah and the world wars. "What is the good now?", he wrote to his friend Josef Weiger in 1963:
"The moral task? To 'cultivate and preserve' the world anew out of the power of redemption. Not merely 'doing one's duty' in the world. [...] Rather, to take responsibility for the world. And in agreement with the Saviour, 'cultivate and preserve' the world anew."
However, Guardini continues:
"An almost desperate task, since in everything, in man, in human life and in the work of man, there is a disturbance. To hope against hope" (Guardini 1977/1963, 33-34).
The choice of words is significant. In the present context, the talk of rebuilding and preserving suggests that the diagnosis of the "desperate task" and "disturbance" should be described more precisely as a task in the face of disturbance through destruction. Nevertheless, the talk of hoping against hope is, at least at first glance, a counter-intuitive recommendation. What is meant?
The topos of hoping against hope comes from St Paul, who attributes this seemingly paradoxical attitude to Abraham. Abraham, it says in the Letter to the Romansbelieved "against all hope" that he would become the father of many nations (Paul, Romans 4:18, Einheitsübersetzung). The paradox is an apparent one. It is resolved when one realises that Paul and, following him, Guardini are playing with a double meaning of the term in the phrase "hoping against hope" or "hope against all hope".
Let us first look at some important distinctions. (i) One concerns the mental activity of hoping, or episodic Hope, as opposed to hope in the sense of a psychological State. The two are connected: Hope as a state can be understood as a disposition to enter into the often conscious activity of episodic hoping in suitable situations. However, hope as a state does not have to be conscious: Even when we are not currently thinking about what we hope for, our hopes remain components of our overall psychological profile. (ii) A second common distinction is that between specific and basal Hopes. Specific hopes have specific facts as content or intentional objects (for example, that the sun will shine tomorrow); basal hopes (such as the hope for a good life) are more vague in content. (iii) Thirdly, the literature often distinguishes between banal hopes ("I hope my favourite ice cream is available in the ice cream parlour") and significant Hopes ("Hopefully my friend will survive the operation").
It should be noted, however, that banality and significance are not categorical terms, but can be graded: Hopes can be more or less banal or significant. The hope of passing the final module examination in the main field of study is more significant than the hope of having one's favourite ice cream, but less significant than the hope that a friend will survive the operation. (iv) Finally, fourthly, it is also important to note that hopes can be strong or weak or, in this case too, stronger or weaker, more intense or less intense. The intensity typically increases in proportion to the significance: the more important the hope becomes, the stronger it becomes. Combinations of the above differentiations provide corresponding descriptions: If someone consciously hopes to do well in their final exams after many years of study, this is an episodic, specific and relatively significant hope, which will therefore typically also be reasonably strong or intense.
Can Guardini's talk of "hoping against hope" possibly be reconstructed with recourse to differentiations (i) to (iv)? Although these are important and appropriate, this is not the case. According to the letter, Guardini's recommendation speaks once of episodic hope and then of the state of hope. But how or in what sense could an activity in which a certain disposition is actualised be carried out "against" this disposition? In fact, I would argue that Guardini could also have formulated his appeal with the words: "Hope against hope!", "Hope against hope!" or "Hope against hope!" As far as the paradox at hand is concerned, such variations have at best stylistic significance and are irrelevant in terms of content.
Readings according to which specific, significant or strong hope or the corresponding having of hope (or other combinations) is to be played off against basal, banal or weak hope (or other combinations) also prove to be meaningless on closer inspection: the context of Guardini's recommendation makes it clear that it is obviously not about specific hope against basal hope, significant hope against banal hope, etc. But what is it about then? But what is it about then? The key, according to my thesis, lies in the distinction between hope and optimism.
According to a traditional analysis of the concept of hope, hoping or having hope has a wish component and a conviction component. Some authors regard these conditions as both necessary and sufficient (Downie 1963, Day 1969), which is often referred to as the Orthodox definition or Standard theory of hope (e.g. Meirav 2009, Martin 2013, Rioux 2021, Blöser and Stahl 2022). Others refer to those approaches as standard theories that merely characterise these conditions as necessary conditions (e.g. Chignell 2023, p. 48), or see them as the "lowest common denominator" of various theories of hope (Pettit 2004, p. 154). For substantive reasons that will become clear below, I will initially work with this more moderate variant, which does not consider desire and conviction together to be sufficient conditions for hope. According to it:
Hope: A subject S only hopes that pwhen
(i) S wishes that p (volitive condition), and
(ii) considers it possible, but not certain, that p (doxastic condition).
Let us first consider the doxastic condition (ii). This can be described probabilistically: Accordingly, those who hope attribute a certain probability to the occurrence of what they hope for, which is neither minimal nor maximal (i.e. neither 0 nor 1), but whose value lies between these extremes. More technically speaking, hope is an attitude whose doxastic component requires a gradual or partial belief. We often do not believe categorically that something specific is or is not the case: for example, we believe to a certain extent or degree that the sun will shine tomorrow, that we will still catch the train or that we will finish the mountain hike before the thunderstorm. In everyday language, we refer to such assessments by saying that we think something is "possible" or "quite probable", "relatively certain", "strong" or even "rather not" or "hardly" likely to happen; we say that we are "not certain" or "quite certain", "very certain" about something, etc. I believe that Berlin is the capital of the Federal Republic of Germany and that Mexico City has more inhabitants than Mumbai. However, I believe this latter fact much less firmly than the one about Berlin, of which I am certain.
In formal epistemology, graded doxastic states or partial states of belief are standardly described as so-called credences are modelled and represented as probability attributions, which can in principle assume any value from 0 to 1. One credence of 0 with regard to a matter p corresponds to the certain assumption or maximum firm conviction that p not the case (and notp the case); one credence of 1 corresponds to the certain assumption or maximum firm conviction that p is the case. States of belief between these extremes represent (more or less large) epistemic uncertainty of the subject with regard to p or notp. It should be emphasised that Credence-Theorists use this as a model and do not claim that we can always express our everyday beliefs in precise probability values or intervals, or that the everyday language of guessing, believing, being (more or less) convinced, etc. always corresponds to exact numerical probability values that the subject would consciously calculate.
The point of these indications for the orthodox analysis of the concept of hope is that, according to this, hope (or hoping) that pis an attitude under epistemic uncertainty with great doxastic leeway. It requires a graded belief whose value - the subject's assessment of the probability of the hoped-for event - lies somewhere between 0 and 1. The only restriction is that the person hoping neither considers the occurrence of the hoped-for event to be impossible (which would correspond to a probability of 0) nor certain (which would correspond to a probability of 1). Anyone who believes that something is certain to happen no longer hopes that it will happen; and anyone who is certain that it will happen or has already happened can also no longer reasonably hope that it will happen. Expressed more formally, the following applies to those in a hope that pThe probability assessment of the subject contained in the credence opposite p (cr(p)) therefore: 0<cr(p)<1.
It is precisely here that a central difference to the attitude that we call "optimism" becomes apparent. According to my thesis, optimism towards a state of affairs is also an attitude under epistemic uncertainty. Like hope, it also contains firstly (i) the wish that p occurs (or has occurred): We are not optimistic about things that we wish would not happen. Second, (ii) optimism also involves a graded belief with a certain probability estimate that p occurs (or has occurred). In contrast to hope, however, one is not certain about a fact. p optimistic only if one tends to believe that p occurs (or has occurred) than that this is not the case.
The probabilistic leeway here is smaller than with hope. We can also abbreviate this by saying that the attitude of optimism involves a "positive belief" in what is desired. On a mountain hike, I can hope to reach the valley before the storm, even if I think this is unlikely; however, I am only optimistic about reaching the valley in time if I think this is likely. However, since optimism does not imply maximum certainty, but also doubt that the event in question will occur, the probability assessment constitutive of optimism also remains below 1. credence therefore 0.5<cr(p)<1 applies.
Since the sum of the probabilities for a situation p and its complement non-p 1, applies to a rational subject if it is a credence greater than 0.5 for p has that his credence for nonp is less than 0.5 (cr(p)>0.5 and cr(~p)<0.5). Accordingly, we can also characterise the attitude of optimism in a first step as follows:
Optimism: S is optimistic about the realisation of p only if
(i) S wishes that p (volitive condition), and
(ii) considers it more likely that pthan that nonp (doxastic condition).
For example, if we think it is only probable to a degree of 0.1 (or a degree that corresponds to an interval whose upper limit is <0.5) that the sun will shine tomorrow, then we are not optimistic but pessimistic about this fact, and the closer we get to 0, the more pessimistic we become. If we are "more optimistic (than pessimistic)" about a situation, then the probability assessment is above 0.5, but not yet close to 1; if we are "fairly optimistic", then it is closer to 1; if we are "very optimistic", then it is close to 1. Note again that all this is not to say that everyday probability judgements or attitudes that we describe as optimistic or pessimistic can always be expressed in exact numerical values, but that it is a model with which we can represent attitudes such as optimism (or confidence) and hope for rational actors.
From these considerations, the following resolution of the seemingly paradoxical talk of hope (or hope) against hope emerges. The first occurrence of the term, according to my thesis, is based on the orthodox analysis or standard conception, according to which hope or hoping does not require a positive belief in the hoped-for state of affairs, i.e. no belief that ascribes a probability greater than 0.5 to the state of affairs. In the second occurrence, however, in the phrase "against hope", we are not talking about hope in the "orthodox" sense. Rather, for rhetorical reasons, "hope" is used here for the attitude that I have described as optimism, and thus for an attitude, the ascribes a probability >0.5 to the desired fact. "Against hope" here means: "against what we can optimistically expect" or "against something about which we adopt an attitude of optimism".
Although this is not the orthodox usage, we sometimes use the term hope in this sense, which actually denotes optimism. Consider, for example, the emergency doctor or paramedic who treats a patient who they know has little chance of being saved. They might comment on their actions with the words (or thoughts): "I have little hope, but we'll try!", "Even if it's against all hope, we'll do our best!" The speakers would be saying something understandable and meaningful, but not express that they are acting against their wish for the patient to survive. They have this wish (or so it can normally be assumed). Since they do not consider it completely impossible that he will survive, they also fulfil the doxastic component of hope in the classical sense. What they say and show through their actions is therefore this: Even if they wish and very much hope in the classical, orthodox sense that the patient will survive, they consider this unlikely and are therefore more pessimistic than optimistic on this issue.
It should be noted that, according to this analysis, the attitudes of hope and optimism are by no means mutually exclusive. This is because in the probabilistic range of hope (with a credence 0<cr(p)<1) is that of optimism (with a credence 0.5<cr(p)<1) are included. This result is desirable and covered by our everyday language. We say (e.g. the day before climbing a summit): "I hope tomorrow will be good weather - and I'm optimistic that it will be!" We comfort the sick person with words like: "I hope you'll get over it soon, and I'm optimistic that you will!"
Such statements would be pleonastic, because the second partial statement would add nothing to the first if optimism did not have a different, higher meaning. credence than hope. What can be called (to a greater or lesser extent) "optimistic hopes" are therefore also permitted: If the doxastic component is in the realm of "positive" belief, i.e., is the involved credence cr(p)>0.5, then the hope is optimistic. However, it is crucial that an attitude is not optimistic. mustto be a hope.
As an interim result, we note that these characteristics of hope resolve the apparent paradox in Paul and Guardini's talk of "hoping against hope". Despite the "disturbed" enclosure of Optimism Guardini believes that we can hope on the ground of facts (for "the good", for overcoming crises, etc.), even and especially in times of crisis. Because hope is not optimism. Abraham may not have been optimistic that as a centenarian he would still have children with his ninety-year-old wife Sarah; but he hoped, against all odds. Guardini may not have been optimistic that it would be possible to continue to "cultivate and preserve" the world in the long term so that it would be a place worth living in for future generations (also and especially in the sense of Christian values). But he hoped so, despite the odds. Because hope is probabilistically more tolerant than optimism. Guardini's recommendation - made under the impression of "turning times" - can be paraphrased with the words: "Let us hope, even if there are hardly any good reasons to be optimistic." Whether hope always dies last, as the saying goes, remains to be seen. But if my analysis is correct, then it certainly dies much later than optimism.
A three-factor analysis and hope as a reason for action
Against this background, let us return to the criticisms of hope outlined above. To what extent are they appropriate? Is hope an evil because it encourages passivity, escape from the present and the shifting of responsibility onto others? In fact, I would argue that things are different. Not only does hope not hinder our actions; contrary to the prophecies of doom of many critics of hope, at least certain hopes are important drivers of action. Although some apologists of hope sometimes assert this contrary to the objection of passivity, they usually fail to engage in a more detailed discussion of this criticism of hope. However, this is an important question if we want to understand hope: what motivates the critics' passivity objection? In this section, I propose a diagnosis. This requires some further differentiation. By way of introduction, let us take another look at Guardini's stance on the subject, which is rather implicit in his work, but on closer inspection is relatively clear from his theologically inspired allusions.
Guardini also rejects the passivity objection. In the above quote, for example, he refers to the potential of hope to create something new. The "moral task", we have also heard, is not only to do one's duty in the world ("out of the power of redemption"), but also to "take the world into one's responsibility". This passage is also somewhat obscure at first. One holds someone or something responsible for something, which usually means morally attributing certain facts or events to the subject of responsibility, holding it accountable for the consequences, etc. But how can "the world" be held responsible in this sense?
In my opinion, the following interpretation, which is initially less obvious in terms of language but more understandable in terms of content, seems to make sense here: Guardini's admonition can be read as a call not to bury one's head in the sand, but to take responsibility. aboutWe must also take responsibility for things that go beyond the immediate sphere of our private lives. Read in this way, Guardini sees the "moral task" as including "the world" in one's own area of responsibility, even and especially in times of crisis. onand intervene in the course of events. By "world" he is probably referring to events and conditions of a political and social nature, for example, but there is no need to speculate further on this in the present context. What seems clear is that Guardini, understood in this way, contradicts the general objection of passivity with his appeal to become active in the hope of creating something new.
Guardini leaves it at these allusions without explaining them in more detail and also without explaining why critics of hope are wrong with the passivity objection. This question now needs to be clarified. Where exactly are those critics of hope who reject hope on the basis of the passivity objection wrong, if they are wrong, and what could have led them to their misjudgement?
According to the standard analysis, the state of hope must fulfil a volitive and a doxastic condition. As mentioned, references in the literature to the standard theory or orthodox analysis oscillate between interpretations that reconstruct these conditions as merely necessary (e.g. Chignell 2023) and those that present them as necessary and sufficient conditions (e.g. Downie 1963, Day 1969, Meirav 2009). I had initially characterised the conditions as necessary interpreted. Are they possibly sufficient together?
There are various arguments against this view. The following counter-example by Bovens (1999), taken from the film The Shawshank Redemptionhas been repeatedly discussed in literature over the last few decades: Two prisoners, Andy and Red, wish to escape and also estimate the probability of this succeeding to be approximately the same; but one hopes, while the other despairs. Another example comes from Adrienne Martin (2013): Two seriously ill patients, Bess and Alan, take part in a trial programme for a new drug that they are told has a 1 % chance of working. Both believe this medically well-founded prognosis and both hope to successfully fight the disease with the help of the medication. Alan, however, remains desperate; Bess, on the other hand, is hopeful. If the volitive and doxastic components were not only necessary, but together also sufficient conditions for hope, then both would hope (because ex hypothesi they have the same wishes regarding their illness and share the same probabilistic prognosis). But only Bess hopes, while Alan despairs. Since hope and despair are mutually exclusive, the argument goes, such examples show that hope is not simply a combination of wish and conviction.
This observation has provoked numerous reactions, one of which is particularly influential and of central importance to the issue at hand. The hope that pis not only based on (i) the desire and (ii) the belief that it is possible but not certain that p(iii) the awareness that the realisation of the desired exceeds our own possibilities and depends on an "external factor" that is regarded as "good" or cooperative. Otherwise, we would not have to hope in the relevant situations, but could expect, plan and firmly prepare ourselves for the realisation of what we want, if only we take the right steps ourselves. In this context, Claudia Blöser (2022) speaks of the awareness of something "unavailable", Victoria McGeer of a "limited ability to act" in relation to the desired (limits to our agential powers, 2008, S. 245). Elsewhere she writes:
"We hope for something that could not be in any way affected by our efforts to bring it about" (McGeer 2004, p. 103).
This aspect is particularly central to religious hope, especially Christian hope for redemption and reconciliation. In this context, Josef Pieper (1997/1935), for example, refers to the "gift of hope" as a Christian virtue that includes humility and the awareness of being a creature. Hope includes the awareness of not being able to "do what is decisive in any way". Ariel Meirav's (2009) analysis is very influential in the more recent philosophical debate. In a critical examination of the standard analysis, he argues that hope by no means involves arbitrary desires, but only those desires that presuppose the assumption of an "external factor" that is regarded as positive and is believed to have a positive influence on the course of events:
"When I hope for a prospect, I desire it while viewing it as beyond the reach of my causal or epistemic powers. ... If I say I hope, I imply such inability" (Meirav 2009, 228).
"What does determine [whether one hopes for or despairs of a prospect] (in combination with desire and probability assignment) is one's attitude to a relevant external factor: If one views the external factor as good, then one hopes for the prospect. If one views it as not good, then one despairs of it" (Meirav 2009, 230).
Other authors have also referred to the "positive phenomenology" of hope in this context (Kwong 2022, p. 313).
This "external factor" can be of a different nature and be represented differently by the subject of hope. As examples, Meirav mentions other persons or groups of persons, institutions, "fate" or entities that are conceptualised in a supranatural or religious way (ibid.). It should be added that combinations of various such factors may also be necessary for the fulfilment of what is desired. The hoped-for recovery of a patient may depend on good doctors, good carers, etc., but also on chance. It should also be noted that not everything that is "external" to the subject of hope in the colloquial sense is necessarily beyond his or her control. The approval of my research project depends on external factors such as, in particular, the approval of other people, but if I could obtain this through bribery, then these would be external factors, but not ones outside my causal control.
These considerations initially suggest the following extended characterisation of hope. I call it the Three-factor analysis:
Hope*: S only hopes that pwhen
(i) S wishes that p (volitive condition),
(ii) considers it possible, but not certain, that p (doxastic condition), and
(iii) believes that, if p this depends on co-operative external factors that are external to S's control (co-operation condition).
The term "co-operate" is to be understood in a broad sense in that it does not presuppose intentional co-operation on the part of other persons. The natural course of things, the world, "fate" etc. can also "cooperate" with the hoping subject in this sense if they promote the realisation of what is hoped for.
This analysis now allows a plausible explanation of the passivity objection: its proponents apparently rely on condition (iii), the thesis of the external factor. According to the critics, hope prevents us from "acting ourselves" because it necessarily places the realisation of the desired in the hands of others. Otherwise it would not be hope. For conceptual reasons, hopeful people have to outsource what they hope for from their own area of responsibility, which leaves them with the anxious wait and see whether the relevant external factors will actually co-operate and whether the future will bring what they hope for or not. In this way, hopeful people have no choice but to rely on other forces instead of themselves and, in the words of Seneca, "let their thoughts wander into the distance".
On closer inspection, however, it quickly becomes clear that this objection is based on a blatant misunderstanding of the role of the external factor that is necessary for the realisation of hopes. In fact, the above formulation of condition (iii) is fuzzy and potentially misleading at a crucial point, and it is likely that it is precisely this misunderstanding that leads critics of hope to their misguided passivity objection. Condition (iii) in the present formulation states that the realisation of what is hoped for depends on cooperating external factors. However, this leaves open the question of whether success is always exclusively or generally only also depends on such factors. Critics of hope of the type described above favour the former interpretation. But this is precisely where they are wrong. For at least in many cases, hope also presupposes the belief and knowledge that - in addition to "co-operating external factors" - one's own actions are necessary in order to achieve what is hoped for.
This thesis can be illustrated by simple examples. If Erwin Lindemann hopes to win a major lottery prize at least once in his life, then he knows that it is beyond his power to achieve this, as nothing he does can bring about such a win. ensure can. Nevertheless, he also knows that he only can win if he does certain things himself. For example, he has to buy a lottery ticket, match it with the winning numbers when they are drawn, etc. Even if all this does not guarantee that he will win, but other factors have to play a part, and even if the chances remain minimal despite buying a ticket, Erwin will certainly not win, without to buy a ticket. Or suppose, using Meirav's example, I have a difficult exam ahead of me. I know that the preparation time available to me, given my physical and intellectual capacities, is not sufficient to ensure that I will pass the exam. My success will depend in part on the choice of questions, the discretionary powers of the examiners, and so on. But only partially. I also know that if I don't turn up for the exam at all, for example, I will certainly not pass it. The list of examples could be extended indefinitely.
Meirav himself emphasises this point and says that an external factor analysis does not mean "that one takes oneself to lack all causal influence over the realisation of the relevant prospect. In saying that I hope to succeed in the exam, I am only implying that even if I do my best, this will not guarantee success. I am not denying that my success will depend on my action" (Meirav 2009, p. 229).
Blöser expresses a similar opinion:
"The epistemic uncertainty that characterises hope can be explained by the fact that it refers to states of affairs that the person hoping considers unavailable, i.e. beyond his knowledge and control ... In the case of the exam, we hope to pass precisely because we cannot control the choice of exam questions. Strictly speaking ... we can ... say that we hope for something that we have partial control over - namely insofar as it exceeds our own control"
(Blöser 2022, p. 30f.).
One problem with these references, however, is that they suggest a misguided generalisation in the other direction. Blöser's formulation reads as if hope always to something whose occurrence we can at least partially control. But that is also wrong. The correct distinction is between hopes that we can partially help to realise and those that we cannot. If it were obvious that all If the types of hope are such that the subject can promote their realisation, why then have critics of hope since the Stoa fallen back on the passivity objection? At this point, a good theory of hope also requires a theory of error that explains why critics of hope propagate the passivity objection, and such a theory, according to my thesis, provides the relevant distinction between cases.
If Erwin is hoping to win the lottery, then there is, after he has bought the ticket, there is (under normal conditions) nothing he can do to further promote the fulfilment of his hope. And unlike in the case of the hope of passing the exam, if I hope that the sun will shine here tomorrow, there is (under normal conditions) nothing I can do to increase the probability of this event. Let us also consider a theological example: according to the Pauline-Augustinian tradition, if believers hope for salvation, they cannot do anything themselves to obtain it, but it depends solely on the grace of God. For this very reason, it is emphasised, personal salvation must necessarily be the object of hope.
These considerations suggest the following theory of error: the passivity objection feeds on focussing on examples of the latter kind, but loses sight of other cases of hope, such as those described above. The critic thus commits the fallacy of hasty generalisation. To use Wittgenstein's topos: protagonists of the passivity objection obviously subject themselves to one-sided exemplarity. Admittedly, there are Cases of hope in which the subject can do little or nothing to achieve what is hoped for. But there are many other cases in which hope makes personal action meaningful or even necessary in order to achieve what is hoped for.
In view of these observations, the above formulation in condition (iii) needs to be sharpened. It is true that the realisation of what is hoped for always alsobut not always only depends on external factors. The following, improved characterisation of the initially vague formulation of condition (iii) in this respect in Hope* makes this clear:
Hope**: S only hopes that pwhen
(i) S wishes that p (volitive condition),
(ii) considers it possible, but not certain, that p (doxastic condition), and
(iii) believes that, if p occurs, this at least also depends on co-operative external factors that are external to S's control (co-operation condition).
"At least also" means here: either entirely or only partly. This formulation covers the various examples, but does not falsely postulate that the fulfilment of hope is always exclusively depends on other forces or powers.
Note that condition (iii) in the present version also applies to optimism. Even those who are optimistic wish for something that they believe they cannot achieve on their own. If I am optimistic - and thus only confident, but not certain - that I will pass the exam, then I believe that this depends at least in part on factors that I cannot control. We can therefore also add condition (iii) to our characterisation of optimism:
Optimism*: S is optimistic about the realisation of p only if
(i) S wishes that p (volitive condition), and
(ii) considers it more likely that pthan that nonp (doxastic condition).
(iii) believes that, if p this is at least also dependent on co-operative external factors that are outside of S's control (co-operation condition).
The difference to hope does not lie in condition (iii) and also not in condition (i), but still in (ii).
Further differentiations are necessary, but I can only outline them here for reasons of space. In the case of some hopes (such as the hope of winning the lottery), one's own actions (such as buying the lottery ticket) are indeed necessary conditions for the hope to be fulfilled; however, they only make this fulfilment, which remains highly unlikely, minimally more probable. In other cases (such as preparing well for the exam), one's actions may make the realisation of the hope more likely than the opposite: it may push this probability above the 50% limit or even a higher threshold. In many cases, the probability of success is also increased by acting to influence said "external factor", even if it is beyond one's complete control.
Finally, it is also important to note that having hopes can also inspire action that has no or no direct influence on the realisation of what is hoped for, but does have an impact on other aspects of the overall psychological profile of the person with hopes. Hoping for important things instead of despairing can, for example, contribute to a more positive attitude towards life overall and thus help people to behave in a way that is not passive and resigned, but active and life-orientated.
Quintessence
These reflections on hope have interpretative, conceptual-analytical and diagnostic aspects. They are diagnostic with regard to a widespread but, according to my thesis, misguided objection to hope. I have called it the "passivity objection" and interpreted it with regard to various authors from different traditions, some of which date back to antiquity, in such a way that it essentially suspects hope of leading its bearers to fatalism and passivity and not taking responsibility for the here and now. I began by explaining an important difference between hope and optimism and, against this backdrop, I analysed Guardini's seemingly paradoxical dictum, alluding to Paul, of the Hoping against hope (this was the interpretative part). The paradox disappears if one reads Guardini's call in such a way that it recommends hope even in the face of a (justified) lack of optimism, and realises that the probabilistic scope of hope is greater than that of optimism. This is precisely why hope can also and especially be appropriate when optimism is fading.
However, in addition to the desire and the belief that it is possible but not certain that it will occur (or has occurred), hope for something also includes the awareness or conviction that its occurrence depends on "external factors" that are beyond one's control (as far as the proposed conceptual analysis goes). This suggests a diagnosis of the passivity objection, according to which its proponents - tempted by one-sided examples - commit a fallacy of hasty generalisation. A simple but crucial distinction that I propose in this context, and which has been ignored in the debate about the nature and psychological role of hope, with a few exceptions (McGeer 2004, 2008), is that between hopes whose fulfilment is entirely beyond our control and hopes whose fulfilment does not depend on us alone, but which we legitimately believe or even know that we can contribute - to a greater or lesser extent - to their realisation.
At least such hopes do not make people passive but, on the contrary, typically motivate them to act. So what leads advocates of the passivity objection to their erroneous conclusion? I propose a theory of error according to which, by focussing one-sidedly on certain types of hope, they falsely interpret the role of that external factor as exclusive determinant of the realisation of what is hoped for. Overall, I propose a three-factor analysis for both hope and optimism, according to which desires, certain probability assessments and the awareness of the dependence of what is hoped for on an external factor are constitutive for both attitudes. The decisive difference between the two lies in the assessment of probability.
This has clarified some aspects of hope and answered a number of questions. Other questions arise, but can only be touched on here for reasons of space. An important one is whether the proposed list of necessary conditions for hope is complete and, if it is, whether the conditions mentioned together are also sufficient for hope. There are good reasons to be less optimistic here. Recall that Meirav and others brought the "good external factor" into play to distinguish hope from despair.
On closer inspection, however, it appears that the co-operation condition proposed in this context ("S believes that if p this is at least also dependent on co-operative external factors that are outside of S's control") also applies to the attitude of despair! The desperate prisoner or the desperate sick person also hope that, if the hoped-for escape or recovery succeed, this depends on "good", "co-operating" factors that they cannot control. So if it is true that despair excludes hope and that, in addition to the awareness of dependence on cooperating external factors, it can also contain the same desires and the same probability assessments as a corresponding hope, then conditions (i) to (iii) together are not sufficient to characterise hope. They do not distinguish hope from despair.
At this point, there are at least two options. Either we continue the search for further necessary conditions which, together with the others, could also be sufficient to distinguish hope from other attitudes. Or we question whether despair is actually different from hope in every case. Perhaps it is not, contrary to a widespread thesis in the literature on hope. In any case, our everyday language suggests overlaps: for example, we talk about "desperate hopes" and apparently mean hopes that are meaningful, but where we despair because of the simultaneous improbability of their fulfilment. Such observations suggest that hope and despair are by no means mutually exclusive.
If this were to be confirmed on closer inspection, a significantly different dialectical situation would present itself than is assumed in much of the current philosophical literature on hope. If, as I have argued, hope also overlaps with optimism, then a central question is not how hope can be distinguished from despair, but rather how despairing hope can be distinguished from optimistic hope. I am optimistic that the tools developed here will make such a distinction possible, and I hope to be able to discuss this in more detail on other occasions.
Why did Pandora close the lid on hope at the last moment, when the evils had irretrievably escaped from the barrel and began to rage among mankind? Nietzsche says that because hope is the greatest of all evils, Pandora realised her mistake and wanted to save humanity from at least this one evil. I have argued that hope is not an evil because it has the potential to motivate us to act and carry on, even when optimism fades. Perhaps Pandora believed that hope alone could hardly compete with the evils outside, but that we could not do without it either and that we would therefore do well to protect and cherish it as a treasure in the house of human soul life.
