It is a time of year when many of us take special occasion to reflect on whether we’ve been living our lives the way we mean to, whether our communities and our society as a whole have become a little more sane-minded, more sustainable, more beautiful, a little more just in the past year.

In my experience this exercise often leads to heartburn and nausea: the gap between the way things are and the way I hope for them to be is so vast as to seem impossible to bridge.Health care reform didn’t turn out nearly as well as many of us hoped. The DREAM act failed for unconscionable unreasons. Climate legislation isn’t even on the table. The Bush tax cuts for the super-wealthy were extended, at the expense of desperately needed social services. Unlimited corporate campaign contributions count as free speech.

In the face of so many disappointments, despair becomes tempting. But despair is a luxury of privilege. For many to despair would mean not merely to detach from goals, to retreat from hope, but to disappear from life, to dissolve of hunger or loneliness. To despair is also apolitical. Politics is never about the best, but about the best that is possible. Despair is apolitical as well as being a luxury of privilege.

Might utopianism also be such a luxury of privilege, might it also be apolitical? I don’t mean to call into question big ideas and big dreams and hopes. I’m absolutely that kind of a guy. Very idealistic…too idealistic much of the time, according to those who know me well.

Progressives tend to think big. But it’s just as important to join big thinking with small acts. Small acts are critical to bigger ones. Progressives tend to think of social change in revolutionary terms. But revolution is small work as well as big work. Revolutions have never happened all at once. It is unlikely that they ever will.

The revolution most needed in our moment is a revolution in moral perspective, a revolution against the tyranny of perfection. To paraphrase my colleague Sharon Welch, in order to act ethically in an age of expediency, in order to stand for justice in a world of exploitation, in order to act compassionately against despair, cynicism, and indifference, we must, paradoxically, give up the myth of a moral perfect world (A Feminist Ethic of Risk).

If we ever hope for our acts to yield anything close to the hoped for consequences, we must give up the myth of moral commensuration. A morally improved world depends upon giving up the lie that good intentions will always yield good consequences. By breeding despair, the flip side of utopianism, the perfect debilitates and subverts real progress. Every one of us is morally flawed and the world is, always has been, and always will be morally ambiguous, top to bottom, side to side.

Paradoxical though it may seem, the way of imperfection, of incremental hope, leads not to defeat, not to despair, but to the freedom really to risk impossible things. The only way to bridge what is and what should be is to act lightened of the weight of the perfect. The only possible bridge to what should be is a bridge we bravely build together by risking ourselves beyond the privileges of despair and utopianism.

At the turning of the year, may we who are imperfect risk committing together imperfectly in the imperfect present in order to repair the world the only way it has ever been done, one little imperfect act at a time.


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