To Be or Not to Be Hopeful

There’s a certain unspoken heaviness that lingers in conversations with friends and colleagues who’ve been in the sustainable development and impact finance space for years. It’s not something we openly name, but it’s there—a quiet sense of loss of hope. The question: that maybe, just maybe, we’re being naive. That despite all our efforts (and those of so many others), the world isn’t changing fast enough—at least not fast enough to reverse the way we produce and consume.

You sit across from a colleague who seems to have “made it to the other side” (aka professionally successful in an impact-aligned role), and you realize they’re grappling with the same doubts. The same frustration. The same lingering question: Are we helplessly hopeful?

It’s a cycle that feels almost cruel. The ambition that drives us. The hype that fuels us. The frustration that inevitably follows. And yet, we keep going. Because the alternative—hopelessness—isn’t an option.

The Weight of Responsibility

As transformation seekers, we carry a unique burden. It’s not just about doing the work, it’s about holding the hope, especially through the darker times. Seeing things through. Even when we’re tired. Even when the data feels overwhelming. Even when the noise of shallow advances and fearful news drowns out the real achievements.

This weight is almost unavoidable because we know the stakes. We have the science, the data, the evidence. We know that the longer society waits to act, the more expensive and devastating the consequences will be.

But it doesn’t come without tension. Frustration is inevitable—it’s part of the process. The key isn’t to avoid it, though, it’s to decide how we deal with it.

Choosing Hope

Hope isn’t passive. It’s not sitting back and wishing for the best. It’s a choice. A deliberate, sometimes defiant, choice to believe in the possibility of change—and to act on that belief. To contribute to setting in motion the forces that will effect the change we seek.

Yes, the uncertainty of the future is daunting. Maybe it always has been. But hope isn’t about certainty after all. It’s about possibility. It’s about imagining a world that’s different, even when it feels impossible.

The Signal We Send

I believe being hopeful isn’t just a personal choice—it’s a signal. A signal to those around us, to the “unconverted,” to the next generation. It says: We’re still here. We’re still asking (and working) for something different. And we believe it’s worth it.

Because if we—the ones who’ve dedicated our lives to this work—give up hope, what message does that send? (That’s actually the burden, the responsibility I take so seriously. Not that I’ve cracked the code to deal with it, I’m still walking the talk there).

Balancing the Noise

Balancing the noise isn’t straightforward. The mix of doom and progress, fear and achievement, can feel overwhelming and confusing. Our job, I think, is to give the right space to those wins. To cut through the noise with clarity and conviction. To remind ourselves—and others—that while the work is hard and so many unfortunate things occur, it’s not in vain. So many good and great things are also taking place and taking shape.

A Personal Choice

Ultimately, hope is personal. It’s something we choose every day, even when it feels like the harder option. It’s not about ignoring the challenges or pretending everything is fine. It’s about acknowledging the reality—and choosing to continue the path anyway, continue to build a world back in tune with nature and with the humanity we all share.

So, to be or not to be hopeful? For me, the answer is clear. Hope isn’t just a feeling. It’s a responsibility. And it’s one I choose to carry.

That’s why, as I continue sharing my journey of walking the talk, I pledge to do my best to balance the noise. To bring forward the different pieces that make up reality—where there are things we’d like to see change, but also where there are things that genuinely nourish the ground for hope. In fact, walking the talk is many times about holding that hope vibrant.

What does hope mean to you? And how do you feel about hope and our common future’? I’d love to hear your thoughts—whether it’s a personal story, a small win, or even a moment of doubt you’ve worked through. Let’s create space for the full spectrum of this journey. Share your perspective in the comments or reply to this email—I’m here for the conversation.