Sustaining Agency/Hope Is Earned
Hope is often treated as a feeling—something you either have or you don’t. In difficult times, it can seem like a passive wish or a fragile thread barely holding us up.[1] But for those who have dedicated their lives to creating meaningful change, hope is not a fleeting sentiment. It’s something far more powerful—and far more demanding. As conservationist Kristine Tompkins once said, “You have to earn hope.”
This idea challenges us to rethink what hope truly is. Rather than a product of optimism or naïveté, hope is a consequence of action. It is forged in effort, grounded in purpose, and made real by commitment. When we confront the enormity of the world’s challenges—from climate change to extinction, inequality to ecological collapse—it’s not enough to wish for better outcomes. We have to work for them.
Kristine Tompkins: Hope Through Action
Kristine Tompkins, the former CEO of Patagonia and one of the most effective conservationists of our time, didn’t inherit hope—she built it. Alongside her late husband, Doug Tompkins, she spent decades acquiring and restoring vast tracts of land in South America. What began as a dream to protect wilderness became one of the largest private land donations in history, resulting in the creation of over 15 national parks in Chile and Argentina.
This was not an easy or universally praised endeavor. The Tompkins faced skepticism, resistance, and logistical challenges on an extraordinary scale. Their mission required not only land restoration, but community engagement, ecological research, and policy reform. At every step, progress was hard-won. And yet, through this persistence, hope grew—not as a dream, but as a lived reality.
Tompkins reminds us that “hope is earned” because it is tied to trust—trust in what is possible, trust in others, and trust in ourselves. We earn hope by showing up, again and again, despite setbacks and slow progress. Each tree planted, each species reintroduced, each river protected adds weight to the possibility of a better future.
The Discipline of Hope
Hope, then, is not blind optimism. It is a discipline. It asks something of us: clarity, courage, and sustained effort. It means acknowledging hard truths while still choosing to act. In conservation, this might mean fighting for ecosystems that will take decades to recover. In education, it could mean mentoring a student who struggles to see their own potential. In justice work, it means advocating even when the odds feel insurmountable.
To earn hope is to invest in a future you may not see fully realized. It’s to plant seeds you may never sit in the shade of. But it’s also to know that your labor is not in vain. The very act of striving—of aligning values with actions—generates its own sense of meaning and forward motion.
A Personal and Collective Calling
In a time where despair can feel like the rational response to global crises, Tompkins’ philosophy is a quiet but firm call to resistance. Do not give in to numbness. Do not confuse awareness with helplessness. Instead, become a steward—of the land, of your community, of your one small corner of the world. Action becomes the antidote to hopelessness. And as you act, hope begins to take root.
This isn’t to say we won’t feel overwhelmed. We will. But we are not powerless. And that is the heart of the message: hope is not something we are given—it’s something we give rise to through our choices.
Conclusion
In her life and legacy, Kristine Tompkins teaches us that real hope is not the absence of fear or failure, but the refusal to surrender to them. It is earned in the soil of hard work, watered by vision, and sustained by a commitment to something larger than ourselves.
We cannot wait for hope to arrive. We must build it—step by step, day by day. And in doing so, we discover something profound: that the very act of trying, of caring, of striving—is hope itself.