Changing the World

    We thought we could change this world

    With words like love and freedom — Eagles, “The Sad Cafe”

So many of us did. All of us young. All of us idealistic. Our world was so small in our youth that it did seem manageable, and changeable. We grew up, saw how big it is, how diverse, how Darwinian, and soon enough we settled for trying to make it a better place. We marched and carried signs, we volunteered for causes. Some of it helped. I hope.

I do think the world is a better place for many than it was when I came of age. Less global poverty, more literacy. Nations have their ups and downs. Dictators rise and are overthrown. But rise again. Democracy is a messy, unorganized effort, and fragile, as we are sensing in the US today. Some days hope seems naive. Why do so many people still support Trump?

I know, they’re angry about being left out, or behind, or both. Angry about being dissed by the elites. We should strive to give everyone a good shot at making their way in the world, no doubt about that. We are having a tough time agreeing on the best way to do that. Kill off government and let everyone fend for themselves? Or give everyone a guaranteed basic income, regardless of whether they do anything to earn it? Or something in between those extremes?

And what is the best way to steer the policy ship? Top down? Bottom up? Ban what we think hurts us, or tax it so it is just too expensive to be practical for most of us?

I realize now that these debates have been going on for longer than I have been alive. They started before I was a gleam in my parents’ eyes. Long before that. All the way back to the beginning of time. They will never be settled. We can hope that the means by which we seek to resolve them trends away from violence toward reason. Even that hope is tested every day. Even in a country as thoughtful as ours. There was nothing thoughtful about the Capitol riot. There is nothing thoughtful about “If you go after me, I’m coming after you.”

So where is the hope?

It’s in our children.

I have five. All of them have good moral compasses. All of them are kind and thoughtful. All of them are generous and loving. None of them stormed the Capitol. None of them thinks Trump won the election. None of them thinks migrants should be left to drown in the Mediterranean or the Rio Grande. None of them thinks anyone in the US should have food or healthcare insecurity.

When I was born, the global population was 2.3 billion. Today it is 8.1 billion.

That’s a lot of new people. Who knows what their values are. It’s clear to me that not many of them are listening to anything I have to say. I’m not going to convince anyone that we should all be responsible for cleaning up our own negative externalities. Or for helping our neighbors who don’t look like us. The reason I know this is because I’ve tried and haven’t, as best as I can tell, made a dent in anyone’s opinion.

But their mothers and I did raise five excellent citizens of the world. I’m proud of that, and of them. They are my hope for changing the world. It’s just going to take a little longer than I originally thought.