“Hope is not a naive ignorance of the world,” the author Rebecca Solnit wrote “Far from it. It is a feeling that moves us away from easy despair, to act courageously with hopeful action.”
Acting courageously with hopeful action is what drives us at openDemocracy. Every story we write, every abuse we uncover, every scandal we expose, is done with courage and a belief that this same courage can lead to action. To change.
It’s why openDemocracy aims to be a media for progressive movements, for whom hope offers the energy to build a fairer, more equal world.
In that spirit, the first edition of The Weekly in 2026 dedicated to hope. Our journalists from around the world have put together their hopes for the year. Hopes for peace, finding hope in the simple joys, and hopes for small, grassroots social movements triumphing over big enemies. Make sure you read through to the end for a heart warming story of an unlikely inter-religious, intergenerational friendship,
I want to hear from you, too. What gives you hope? What are you hoping to see in 2026? What are you hoping to see from us in 2026? And, in these – let’s face it – dark times, what do you do to restore your hope?
January is a time when our bank balances can feel quite strained. But if you are able to share a few pounds this new year to support our team to do even more investigative journalism with courage and hopeful action, we would really appreciate it.
Our hopes for 2026
All My People Right Here Right Now
2025 was a tough year. Heartbreaking global conflicts dominated my news feeds. The hypocrisy and silence surrounding these were deafening and the helplessness in being able to do anything about them was all-consuming. In the UK, the passive aggression of the St George flags lining the streets of my town, visibly and silently told me that I am not welcome here. I found myself questioning my identity as someone who is both a British citizen and an immigrant to the UK, and my place in the country I have called home and in which I have built my life for over 30 years.
Yet, some moments have given me hope. The Oasis reunion gig I went to, brought together a group of friends from decades ago and flooded Wembley stadium with pure joy and love. Spending time in parts of the country (Cambridge, Hove) where people were genuinely happy in diversity, reminded me of why I have loved living here for so long. My mixed-race son, skipping from door to door in our neighbourhood as we delivered leaflets about hope and unity, grounded me in the fight for a better future. 2026 may be another tough year, but I will continue to look for reasons like these that spread hope.
Rudaba Osmani-Edwards, Development Director
A Fresh Chance for Nigeria’s Ogoni People
I am hopeful for the people of Ogoni, of Nigeria’s oil-rich Delta.
Between the late 1960s and early 90s, the Ogonis suffered extraordinary environmental degradation on account of the oil exploration by Shell. Livelihoods disappeared. Life expectancy shortened. People died. Through their valiant advocacy and resistance, through the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People they were able to ground Shell’s operations. They paid dearly for it too, their leader Ken Saro Wiwa and eight other activists were killed after what is regarded as a sham trial. Their demands for inclusion in oil production, cleaned up lands, haven't been met.
Now, 30 years later, the Nigerian government (alongside oil interests) are trying to return to Ogoni and explore oil again.
I am hopeful for the Ogoni this time around because this time they are in the driver's seat to see their dreams fulfilled. Whereas decades ago, they were a smaller people, with less resources to resist (even though they still recorded some unprecedented wins), these days they are better positioned. They have the world’s attention, they are well versed in the fight for ecological rights, they may not be as easily manipulated and divided as they were before. They are in a pole position, to force the Nigerian government to give them what they have been asking for for the last 50 years and because of which Ken Saro Wiwa died. Should they succeed it would be a rare real life triumph of David against Goliath.
Ayodeji Rotinwa, openDemocracy’s Africa editor
The Zohran Effect
After Mamdani’s strong campaign rooted in hope helped to secure his victory in New York’s mayoral elections, I hope that his win will inject a new energy into left-wing politics in the US that will hopefully influence the next presidential election. I'm hoping that what he achieves in the first full year of his mayorship will serve as an example for what the rest of the US could one day have.
Carla Abreu, audience engagement manager
Hopes for a Just Peace
Last year, I travelled to eastern Ukraine for the third time since the start of the full-scale invasion. It’s hard work: Kharkiv is so badly shelled and under almost constant attack. And yet, every time I visit, I am inspired to hope. That hope is due to the courage of the Ukrainian people. From rescue workers to soldiers and human rights activists – as well as the victims of war – the Ukrainians I meet share an ambition to build a fairer country and to resist the far right authoritarianism Russia is determined to impose on them. Unsurprisingly, my hope for 2026 is for a fair and just peace for Ukraine, one that does not compromise on the safety and security of all its population, and one that creates a more equal and resilient society. It’s a hope I know that everyone fighting for Ukraine’s future shares.
Sian Norris, senior investigations reporter.
Creative Resistance
When I first read about Trump sending migrants to Guantánamo one week into his second term, I couldn’t help thinking about time being a circle. One week after his first inauguration I was in Guantánamo reporting for a book and asking questions about Trump’s campaign promises to fill again the Bush’s illegal military prison with suspects of terrorism and to bring back torture.
A decade before the war on terror, Guantánamo had been the place to detain Haitian and Cuban refugees and even people with HIV. Now, with Trump reigning unchecked, Guantánamo-like practices are once again on full display. Migrants are hunted across the US, brutally detained, deported to third countries without due process, locked in prisons where torture and mistreatment are routine (El Salvador), or sent back to authoritarian regimes which they had fled from in the first place (Venezuela). Elected officials praise these policies and show eagerness to replicate them in their countries (Chile). It feels like we’re heading to a time where Guantánamo will be the norm, instead of the ugly exception.
So my hope for 2026 stands with the people figuring out how to resist and fight back. This year, I met some of those people: the neighbours setting up chats to share information and warn families about impending raids, buying foods and medicines for those who stay at home out of fear of being detained, bringing shelter and legal assistance to migrant families, and waging legal battles in courts. Often, when talking to me, these people would break down in tears. But they got bolder when explaining the creative ways they’re finding to resist.
My hope is big. I hope Latin Americans will also push to keep this authoritarian wave in check, find strength in their long-acquired wisdom, mobilise in support of the persecuted and will, ultimately, defeat the Guantánamo style once and for all.
Diana Cariboni, Latin America editor
A tech-critical populist future
The tariffs, threats, and strategic posture of the US will continue to destabilise the globe, including for supposed allies like us in Europe. While it won’t be easy, 2026 must involve vigorous remediation. Digital sovereignty is one area requiring urgent attention, in order to wean ourselves away from US firms who it’s feared may even cut off international judges at a whim.
Optimistically, that could involve steps to move beyond the poisoned landscapes of big tech – with initiatives like the Euro Stack to offer Google Suite style utilities from trusted partners.
Furthermore, there’s hope we may recognise social media as a health and national security threat that needs to be dealt with directly, as the US does TikTok and Australia does all platforms for young people. We must take the opportunity to regain control of how platforms control public information diets. This is all the more critical as AI supercharges misinformation.
Cory Doctorow suggests this is also the time to repeal legislation that stops us from tinkering with devices we own – so-called anti-circumvention laws, that prohibit users fixing or enhancing their own property to suit US corporations. Allowing this could bring enormous economic benefits to those who can then innovate outside of monopoly strangleholds.
There is a growing awareness amongst the wider population that big US firms wield too much power and cause too much harm.
Anti-establishment voices could seize ground from immigrant-bashing politicians with calls like “stop AI taking our jobs and big tech taking our children”. Tech-critical populism can find a balance between protecting critical digital infrastructure, supporting local innovation, and reining in megacorps that are a risk to the social fabric.
Matthew Linares, Technical and publishing manager
Persistence is Resistance
Covering South America in 2025 has often meant confronting what happens when the state looks away from suffering – and who is left to absorb the consequences. My reporting has focused on painful truths: the enduring legacy of gender-based violence, the social damage inflicted by political decisions, and the neglect that leaves the most vulnerable unprotected.
And yet, what has stayed with me most this year is not the scale of that neglect – inseparable from broader democratic strain – but the persistence of those who refuse to accept it. For every institution that fails, there are people who refuse to be ignored. Here, hope does not come in grand promises, but in local organising: sustained efforts to demand justice, care for others, and insist on accountability.
My hope for the year ahead is rooted in that persistence. South America reminds us that democracy is not something you inherit and keep, but something people repeatedly fight to defend. That fight is far from over, but it is very much alive.
Angelina de los Santos, Latin America reporter
We are united by our humanity
Last week, on 24 December, a young man and his family gathered in an embroidery shop in Fort Kochi, southern India, to light the menorah for the eighth and final time that Hanukkah — just as they do every year. The man isn’t Jewish, though; there is reportedly only one Jew left in the Keralan city’s Jew Town neighbourhood.
When we met the following day, a chance encounter as I wandered aimlessly around Kochi, the man told me the story of how his Muslim father, Thaha Ibrahim, became the surrogate son of Sarah Cohen, an Indian Jewish woman who passed away in 2019, days before her 97th birthday.
Thaha met “Sarah aunty” and her husband, “Jacob uncle”, in the 1980s, when he was a teenager selling postcards to tourists on the streets outside their home. They offered him storage space, and he went on to forge a close bond with the couple, eventually helping Sarah to open an embroidery shop selling kippahs, challah covers and handkerchiefs from her living room.
Shortly before he died in 1999, Jacob asked Thaha to take care of Sarah. For 30 years, his son told me, the two were nearly inseparable, with Thaha visiting Sarah daily and eventually taking over the running of the shop when she could no longer manage.
Over the decades, they celebrated countless Muslim and Jewish festivals together. When Sarah’s health declined, Thaha moved his family to be closer to her, and when she eventually passed away, she left the shop to him. Six years later, he and his family still run it exactly as she did – with the addition of a small museum remembering Sarah’s life that they’ve built in the side room.
It can often feel like we are more divided today than ever before. Conflict rages across much of the world, not least in Gaza, where the Israeli genocide entered its third year in 2025. To hear Sarah and Thaha’s story brought me to tears, and also gave me such hope.
In a predominantly Hindu and Christian city in the south of India, a Muslim family meets every Friday evening to light a lamp for the Shabbat. There is far more that unites us than divides us, and I am grateful to have had a reminder of that.
Indra Warnes, editor
