As the festive season descends upon us and just a few days out from the big day itself, our surroundings are full of twinkling lights, sounds of carols or bygone hits, parties and gatherings by the day, and if you’re lucky moments of stillness and reflection amidst the chaos. Part of that chaos has been the very real challenges that are now facing both those who provide and work in social care in Scotland and more important those who receive care and support. We are living in times of unprecedented challenge and considerable uncertainty.

Recently at a gathering of professionals those present were asked to identify the social care needs of the moment and more than one voice agreed that we are all desperately looking for hope. It is a truth, I would suggest, that faced with all our challenge that the concept of hope becomes not just an aspiration but a necessity.

A short time ago I came across Jamil Zaki‘s book ‘Hope for Cynics’. The title appealed to me because, in truth, it wouldn’t be the first time that I have been accused of being cynical and pessimistic about the nature of our current political and social care discourse.

Written by the Stanford psychologist Jamil Zaki, whose work on happiness some might be familiar with, the book examines the rise of cynicism in modern society and its detrimental effects on both individuals and communities. He differentiates cynicism – a blanket assumption that people are inherently selfish and dishonest – from scepticism – which involves critical thinking and openness to evidence. Zaki argues that cynicism is not only a misinterpretation of human nature but also a self-fulfilling prophecy which fosters distrust and negative behaviours.

Zaki’s research suggests that cynicism has been increasing over time. For instance, in 1972 about half of Americans believed that most people could be trusted; by 2018 that figure had fallen to a third. This growing distrust has significant implications, as cynicism is associated with higher levels of loneliness, depression, and even reduced life expectancy.

To counteract cynicism Zaki proposes the practice of ‘hopeful scepticism’. This approach involves critically evaluating information while remaining open to the possibility of human goodness. By adopting human scepticism, he suggests, individuals can foster trust and cooperation, which are essential for personal wellbeing and societal cohesion.

His book offers a compelling exploration of hope not as naive optimism but as a disciplined practice, a muscle that grows stronger the more we use it. For those of us who live and work in social care in Scotland I suspect this resonates deeply. Our work is not built on the illusion that everything will ever be perfect instead it is grounded in the belief that despite imperfections we can create moments of individual connection, shared dignity and community joy. Social care is the bringer of hope for those who feel little ground for optimism.

Now lest you think of this as simply naive optimism, as a seasonal fairytale, it is also worth pointing out that Zaki’s conclusions are supported by extensive research in social psychology and neuroscience, including studies on empathy and prosocial behaviour. His work emphasises that our beliefs about others can shape social reality; expecting the worst in people often brings about negative behaviours whereas expecting the best can encourage positive actions.

Another key strand in Zaki’s study is the continual reminder that hope is not a solitary pursuit but a communal one. This is particularly true in social care and I think is an urgent need for our moment. Whether we are care workers, managers, family members or policy makers, the work we do is woven together by shared intentions and actions. It is in the small everyday acts of kindness – helping someone feel at home in a new care setting, ensuring their voice is heard, that they feel they matter, or simply sharing a laugh over a cup of tea – that hope finds its most powerful expression.

At Christmas these moments seem to take on a heightened significance. They remind us that the core of social care is profoundly human: it is about relationships, about seeing and being seen, about creating spaces where hope can flourish, even in the face of adversity.

The challenges we face in social care and around which I often comment in this blog are undeniable: the workforce shortages and inadequate terms and conditions; funding uncertainties and the ongoing need for systemic reform that puts the supported person first – are not issues that we can ignore but Zaki’s reflections encourage us with what he calls ‘grounded hope’ – a recognition of reality paired with a determination to change it. This is not about turning away from the hard truths, it is about facing them with courage and creativity.

As we gather around trees and tables this Christmas let us remember that hope is not just something we feel – it is something we give in social care. Hope often takes the form of creating moments of normality amidst hard times and extraordinary emotions. It is found in the festive atmosphere in a care home where staff weave memory into future; it is found in the gift of presence a homecare worker shares beyond contract; it is found in all that enables people to discover the chance to thrive.

These small acts are not insignificant. They are the threads of a larger tapestry of care and compassion, woven together by a shared commitment to ensuring that everyone regardless of age, ability or circumstance, feels valued and seen.

At this time of year, especially I think there is much to learn from Zaki’s ‘Hope for Cynics’. Let us embrace hope not as a passive feeling but as an active choice – a way of being that empowers us to re-imagine what is possible.

For those of us in social care, hope is both our gift and our responsibility. It is the spark that lights our way through all those dark days, reminding us that even the midst of uncertainty and what feels like a chaos out of our control, that we have the power to make a difference to both individuals and whole communities.

So this Christmas let us celebrate hope, not as a fleeting emotion but as the enduring foundation of the work we do and the world we strive to create. And let us do so together, with courage, kindness and an unwavering belief in the value of every human life.

My favourite poet of 2024 Jackie Kay once said “If human beings don’t have hope, then why do we live?” and so I leave you with her poem ‘Optimism’ which I came across recently:

Optimism

By Jackie Kay

The day is starting out well.

The sun shines on the rain

like a watery promise.

The cat washes itself

with its little rough tongue,

content as anything.

 

A bird flaps its wings

and you think, go on, fly,

you can do it.

The world is out there waiting.

You look at your own hands,

how they rest on the table—

 

small miracles of bone and skin.

And you think,

I have done this before,

I have lived through a dark night

and come out smiling.

 

Today I will take the first step,

hope, like an open door,

a shaft of light on the floor.

 

Donald Macaskill

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash