Hopeful Thinking: Humanity is in retrograde

It can feel, at times, as though humanity itself is in retrograde — appearing to move backward instead of forward, circling the same old conflicts, rehearsing the same arguments, mistaking noise for progress.

The political stage is loud, chaotic and exhausting. But the experience of retrograde is an illusion and politics is often only the puppet show, not the puppeteer. The deeper truth is quieter and more powerful: the real hands are ours. The real hearts are ours. We stand beside one another in the dim light, pretending we are powerless, when in fact we are, sometimes unwittingly, directing the show.

This is not an accusation; it is an invitation. To remember that culture is not shaped solely by institutions or headlines. It is shaped by the countless small decisions made in kitchens, classrooms, sidewalks and inboxes. It is shaped by how we greet a stranger, how we speak about those who disagree with us, how we treat the person who cannot benefit us in return. These gestures do not trend. They do not go viral. And yet they are the true architecture of civilization.

The puppet show persists because we continue to believe it is necessary. We tell ourselves that conflict is inevitable, that division is natural, that kindness is nice, sure, but doesn’t get us anywhere.

History offers another story — one in which human beings, again and again, reach a threshold of exhaustion with hatred and choose cooperation instead. The arc does not bend smoothly. It wobbles, stalls and sometimes appears to reverse. But over long stretches of time, empathy expands. Rights widen. The circle of “us” grows larger.

To say that there will come a day when we decide to get along is not wishful thinking; it is a statement of spiritual confidence. It is faith in humanity’s long memory of suffering and its equally long memory of love. Every generation inherits both wounds and wisdom. What changes is which inheritance we choose to invest. When we act today as though reconciliation is inevitable, we are not denying the present turmoil — we are refusing to let turmoil dictate our character.

There is profound power in living as if the future you hope for is already whispering instructions to you. Imagine that future looking back at this moment and asking gently: Did you practice the world you wanted, or only argue about it? Each word spoken with dignity becomes a rehearsal for peace. Each refusal to dehumanize another person becomes a small but sturdy bridge laid across a chasm. Each act of courage, however quiet, weakens the illusion that we are merely spectators to our collective fate.

And one day, not so far from now, our grandchildren — or the generations who follow us — will ask about this age. They will want to know what it felt like, what we believed, and what we chose to do when the world seemed divided and uncertain.

The question will not only be what we thought, but how we acted. Did we speak with courage or with cruelty? Did we widen the circle or draw it tighter? When that conversation comes, the measure of our legacy will not be the perfection of our opinions, but the sincerity of our efforts. Will we be proud of the stances we took, the kindness we extended, the dignity we defended? The answer is being written now, in the ordinary decisions we make each day.

Spiritual maturity is not found in pretending darkness does not exist. It is found in recognizing that darkness is often the space where we stand shoulder to shoulder, unseen by one another, yet already together. The stage lights may blind us, but behind the curtain we share the same air. We are already neighbors in the wings, already collaborators in the same unfolding story. The revelation is not that we must become connected; it is that we already are.

When we feel discouraged, it helps to remember that the most transformative movements in human history rarely began with unanimous agreement. They began with a handful of people deciding to embody the future before it was fashionable. They spoke with generosity before generosity was rewarded. They treated dignity as a non-negotiable principle rather than a conditional courtesy. In doing so, they made it easier for others to follow. Hope is contagious, but only when it is practiced.

The choice before us is not whether conflict will vanish overnight. It is whether we will allow conflict to define the limits of our compassion. If we believe that a day of greater harmony will come — and many of us do, quietly, stubbornly, faithfully — then the most logical response is to align our daily conduct with that belief. We set ourselves on the right side of history not by predicting its outcome, but by participating in its better possibilities.

This is the article of faith worth carrying: that humanity, for all its missteps, is capable of remembering itself. That the hands controlling the puppet can choose to take it off. That the hearts beneath the stage can guide the story toward mercy rather than spectacle. We do not need permission to begin living the world we long for. We only need the courage to act as though our shared future is already asking us to be worthy of it.

Wil Darcangelo, M.Div, is an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister of the First Church of Lancaster at the Bulfinch Meetinghouse in Massachusetts, progressive theologian and essayist on optimistic spirituality in the Information Age. Follow him on Substack, Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube.