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The Human Experience

Hope: Blessing or Curse?

John Creigan considers whether hope helps us thrive or holds us back.

Hope is often celebrated as one of humanity’s greatest virtues – a force that sustains us through adversity by fuelling dreams of a better tomorrow. It’s revered in literature, psychology, and philosophy as a beacon of resilience and optimism. Yet I find myself questioning whether hope is as universally beneficial as we often believe. Could it be that hope, so often hailed as a blessing, contains negative consequences we rarely consider? Is it possible that hope sometimes hinders, rather than helps, human flourishing?

Consider this, for a start: for hope to exist, there must also be doubt. Hope does not thrive (and is not even needed) in certainty. Rather, it presupposes uncertainty about the future, such that what we desire may or may not come to pass. Doubt, then, becomes an essential partner to hope, indeed, the very foundation upon which it rests. So doesn’t our attachment to hope also compel us to tolerate, even embrace, doubt, as an unavoidable aspect of life? And if so, what does this reliance on hope, and the accompanying doubt, mean for how we should take responsibility for shaping our future? For instance, if doubt is needed for hope to exist, would people rather live with doubt, just so they can feel hope? And does our attachment to hope compel us to tolerate uncertainty even when it might be more empowering to let go of hope altogether and face reality? If doubt is hope’s necessary counterpart, might we benefit more from confronting the doubt directly, rather than clinging to hope’s comfort?

Here I will unpack these and other questions, to present my theory that hope’s dependency on doubt limits its value. My intention is not to dismiss hope entirely, but to encourage a deeper and more nuanced reflection on its role in our lives. By exploring hope’s dual nature – the ways that it can inspire action, but also enable avoidance of action – I aim to shed light on whether hope always supports human flourishing, or whether it is, at times, merely a distraction from living in the present. Indeed, could hope, in some instances, be a curse dressed as a blessing?

Big Problems with Hope

Etymologically, the word ‘hope’ shares roots with ideas of movement and anticipation – ‘to hop or leap’. This suggests a forward-looking stance that inherently bypasses the present. On the surface, this may seem harmless, even inspiring. But what happens when hope becomes an escape from the present? To hope is, in many ways, to live in expectation, to leap away from the here and now with the belief that the future will provide what’s missing today. This orientation toward the future can prevent us from engaging fully with the present, or taking meaningful action to shape the outcomes we desire. When faced with adversity, we can either take action to make change a reality, or merely hope for change. The latter, while comforting, fosters passivity: it provides an emotional safety net, allowing us to defer responsibility for our lives to time, fate, or external forces. In this way, hope can function as an avoidance mechanism by which we shield ourselves from the discomfort of the present or personal responsibility for the future. Consider someone facing a significant personal challenge who says, “I just hope things get better”. This expression, while optimistic, shifts the burden of improvement to something beyond their control. Action, on the other hand, demands accountability, engagement with reality, and the acceptance of potential failure – all of which are more difficult, but ultimately more empowering.

Image © Melanie Wu 2025 Please visit her on Instagram: melaniewu_illu

Hope, Dependency, & Faith

For those who place their faith in a higher power, hope is often intertwined with trust in divine intervention. However, hope can become problematic for those who claim to reject supernatural frameworks yet still rely on hope. In such cases, hope can mask a subtle dishonesty – a desire to enjoy the good fruits of change without contributing to the labor of its realisation. When we hope for a better world, we often implicitly rely on others to do the work necessary to create it.

In the ancient Greek storyteller Hesiod’s Works and Days (c.700 BCE), the first woman created by the gods, Pandora, opens a jar (often translated as a ‘box’), unleashing countless evils upon the world - disease, toil, and death among them. Yet, one thing remains inside: elpis, commonly translated as ‘hope’. The traditional interpretation is that hope was preserved as a consolation for humanity, a glimmer of light amidst the darkness of all the woes Pandora had let loose upon the world. But what if this interpretation is wrong? What if hope itself was meant to be seen as one of the evils, withheld not as a blessing, but as a final, insidious torment? After all, hope can be the cruelest thing when it’s most desperately clung to, but ultimately fails. Better not to have hoped in the first place. Also consider: by leaving hope in the jar, the gods ensured that humanity would often avoid confronting the evils directly, instead ensuring that hope in the gods for their divine intervention is forever present. On this reading, hope does not empower, it pacifies. It persuades us to wait passively for a better future provided by someone else, rather than taking action to address the challenges. This interpretation supports the idea that hope distracts from agency, instead encouraging a form of emotional and moral outsourcing.

Could Hesiod have embedded this critique in his myth, yet left it deliberately ambiguous?

In ancient Greece, myths served not only as entertainment, but also as vehicles for moral and philosophical reflection. And Hesiod’s world was one of divine authority. To openly question the gods’ gift of hope – or to openly suggest that it was a curse – might have been too radical, even dangerous, for his time. Moreover, by leaving hope’s nature ambiguous as he does, Hesiod created a space for deeper contemplation, inviting future generations to grapple with hope’s duality. Such subtlety would not be unique to Hesiod, either. Myths often encode challenging ideas within allegory, allowing them to critique prevailing norms without openly defying them. The myth of Pandora could therefore be a veiled warning against relying on hope as a panacea. If so, it is a message that resonates across the centuries.

The Case For Hope

Despite these critiques, hope has its defenders, who argue that it’s essential to human flourishing. Philosophers, psychologists, and theologians have highlighted its role as a motivator and as a source of resilience, a means of enduring hardship. For instance, C.R. Snyder’s ‘hope theory’ (from ‘Hope theory: Rainbows in the mind’, Psychological Inquiry, 13(4), 2002) emphasises hope’s active role in promoting agency (by allowing optimism, thus fuelling the determination to achieve goals), and in creating pathways (inspiring finding methods to achieve the goals). In this framework, hope is not passive, but a driving force that compels individuals to set goals and take action: far from avoiding responsibility, hopeful individuals are often deeply engaged in shaping their futures. And indeed, hope has been shown to bolster resilience, help individuals cope with adversity, and maintain psychological well-being. Research suggests that hopeful people are more likely to persevere through difficulties and recover from setbacks. This makes hope a useful factor in navigating life’s uncertainties. Historically, collective hope has fuelled social and political movements, inspiring people to work together for change. In such contexts, hope is not an escape, but a rallying cry for action. Moreover, some philosophers, such as Gabriel Marcel, have argued that hope itself is a courageous act – a commitment to the possibility of renewal even in the face of despair.

The Ambiguity of Hope

The dual nature of hope – its capacity to inspire action, but also to enable avoidance – makes it a complex and ambivalent force. So the question really is, not whether hope is inherently good or bad, but how it is used. When hope complements action, it can serve as a powerful motivator, and is a blessing. However, when it replaces responsibility, it risks becoming a curse, perpetuating passivity and dependence. The ambiguity of the Pandora’s Box myth invites us to grapple with this duality. And by questioning hope’s role in our lives, we open the door to a deeper, more empowering truth: that human flourishing lies not in waiting for a better future but in engaging meaningfully with the present. To live authentically, we must confront life’s challenges directly, taking responsibility for what is within our control, and working actively to shape the world we wish to see.

Perhaps this is the deeper hidden message of Hesiod’s myth: hope, for all its allure, is not a solution. It is merely a tool, and tools are only as effective as the hands that wield them. To truly flourish, we must root ourselves in the present, taking ownership of the choices and actions that shape our lives. So hope can inspire, but it must never replace personal responsibility. When used thoughtfully, it can amplify our efforts; when over-relied upon, it can lull us into complacency. Perhaps we don’t need as much hope as we think, then: what we truly need is the courage to confront life as it is, and the determination to become our best selves now, not some day in the hoped-for future.

John Creigan is a humanistic counsellor, writer and artist exploring the unseen forces shaping human experience.