{"id":13914,"date":"2025-09-12T13:55:36","date_gmt":"2025-09-12T17:55:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/?p=13914"},"modified":"2025-09-12T13:57:05","modified_gmt":"2025-09-12T17:57:05","slug":"byung-chul-han-the-spirit-of-hope-translated-by-daniel-steuer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/2025\/09\/12\/byung-chul-han-the-spirit-of-hope-translated-by-daniel-steuer","title":{"rendered":"Byung-Chul Han, The Spirit of Hope. Translated by Daniel Steuer."},"content":{"rendered":"

Byung-Chul Han, <\/span>The Spirit of Hope. <\/span><\/i>Translated by Daniel Steuer. New York: Polity, 2024, 111 pp. ISBN: 9781509565191<\/span><\/p>\n

Reviewed by Tanner R. Layton<\/span><\/i>, Centre for the Study of Theory and Criticism, Western University<\/span><\/p>\n

For Joel Faflak.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;<\/span>
\n<\/span>To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;<\/span>
\nTo defy Power, which seems omnipotent; <\/span>
\nTo love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates<\/span>
\n<\/span>From its own wreck the thing it contemplates\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2013 Percy Shelley, <\/span>Prometheus Unbound, <\/span><\/i>Act IV<\/span><\/p>\n

Byung-Chul Han\u2019s <\/span>The Spirit of Hope<\/span><\/i> explores hope as an existential mood we\u2019re susceptible to, one that anticipates the birth of something new, and, ultimately, one that we commit to. \u201cHope is <\/span>open<\/span><\/i>, and moves into the <\/span>open<\/span><\/i>\u201d (81). The \u201chopeful are on their way towards the other\u201d (79); they have not arrived; they are on their way; \u201chope is <\/span>searching movement<\/span><\/i>. It is an attempt to find a firm footing and sense of direction. By going beyond the events of the past, beyond what already exists, it also enters into the <\/span>unknown<\/span><\/i>, goes down <\/span>untrodden paths<\/span><\/i>\u201d (5). Hope is the attentive mood that makes one receptive to the signs of something different, something other. \u201cNew beginnings,\u201d Han writes, \u201care impossible without hope\u201d (35).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

In the Christian tradition, the birth of Jesus serves as an instructive event for Han: \u201cThe glad tiding \u2018A child has been born unto us\u2019 is a genuine expression of hope\u201d (35). It is a possibility \u201c<\/span>beyond all likelihood<\/span><\/i>\u201d (69), an event that doesn\u2019t belong properly to the world. For Han, hope itself is born in Bethlehem and the Christian subject takes its direction from it. It is a miracle that \u201cinspires action\u201d (35), leading not \u201cto idle passivity\u201d nor resignation\u2014as the common critique goes\u2014but rather to actively confronting \u201cthe world in its full negativity\u201d and thereby nourishing \u201cthe <\/span>spirit of revolution<\/span><\/i>\u201d (37). Hope enchants the world, and the subjects overcome by it are moved by \u201ca deep conviction that something is <\/span>meaningful<\/span><\/i>\u201d (51). The structure of Han\u2019s hope, then, is threefold: first, it precedes action\u2014\u201cHumans can act <\/span>because <\/span><\/i>they can hope\u201d (35)\u2014second, it happens <\/span>to<\/span><\/i> us\u2014it\u2019s \u201cborn unto us\u201d\u2014and, third, it anticipates \u201csomething different.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

This conceptualization of hope responds to a 21<\/span>st<\/span> century affective situation that, rather than simply conditioning our cultural politics, \u201cis haunting us\u201d (1). The spectre that Han is wrestling with is \u201cfear.\u201d For Han, fear is the antithesis of hope; it renders hope unthinkable. Fear makes us thoughtless. As he proclaims, in this climate of fear, \u201c[w]e seem to have lost the <\/span>courage to think<\/span><\/i>\u201d (2). Thought and hope, however, are allies. This \u201c<\/span>thinking of hope<\/span><\/i>,\u201d this \u201cthinking that hopes\u201d (86), has its roots in otherness. Whereas thinking \u201cprovides access to what is altogether other,\u201d a fear of thinking \u201cproduces a continuation of the <\/span>same<\/span><\/i>\u201d (2).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Hope, then, \u00e0 la Han, opens us to the future, but he\u2019s careful in defining it. To do so, he adapts Derrida\u2019s distinction between \u2018future\u2019 and \u2018l\u2019avenir.\u2019 These \u201ctwo forms of the future\u201d differ primarily in their availability. While we can foresee and map out the future, l\u2019avenir \u201cescapes all calculation and planning\u201d; while we can bring about the future in a way that unfolds according to our expectations, l\u2019avenir \u201cconcerns <\/span>events<\/span><\/i> that occur altogether unexpectedly\u201d (7). The crux of the matter is this: a future that can be designed and \u201cadministered\u201d is a future that is subject to the world as it is\u2014a world where \u201c[w]e voluntarily submit ourselves to the compulsion to be creative, efficient, authentic\u201d (9). This world is our world: a world ostensibly preoccupied with innovation and \u2018the new.\u2019 But, in this world, \u201cthe new [\u2026] is not something <\/span>altogether other<\/span><\/i>\u201d; \u201c[s]elf-creation,\u201d he says, \u201cis a form of self-exploitation that serves the purpose of increasing productivity,\u201d which \u201cproduces only <\/span>variations of the same<\/span><\/i>\u201d (10)\u2014and inevitably, therefore, more fear.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

L\u2019avenir, however, is not subject to the compulsions of self-creation\u2014it gestures, instead, towards something \u201c<\/span>something radically different<\/span><\/i>\u201d (9). Whereas fear has this individualizing function\u2014it privatizes and psychologizes, making us \u201c<\/span>entrepreneurs of ourselves<\/span><\/i>\u201d (9)\u2014hope has a communalizing function\u2014it opens and spreads, transforming isolated Is into a collective<\/span> We<\/span>.<\/span><\/i> Ironically, the attitude of mastery towards the future is constraining; it makes us feel \u201ccornered\u201d and \u201cimprisoned\u201d (3); in controlling the future, we block anything new from emerging. The hopeful don\u2019t desire such control: \u201cto be free means to be free of compulsion\u201d (9). For the hopeful, the future is l\u2019avenir, which is situated at this what-you-don\u2019t-yet-know: \u201can unavailable <\/span>space of possibility<\/span><\/i>\u201d (7). \u201cThe temporal mode of hope,\u201d Han argues, \u201cis <\/span>not-yet<\/span><\/i>. [\u2026] It is a spiritual attitude, a spiritual mood, that elevates us above what is already there\u201d (7).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The spirit of hope, then, is associated with a spirit of risk. Indeed, \u201cwe confront a bleak future\u201d (2), but this bleakness tends to cultivate a spirit of survival that Han sharply criticizes: \u201c[a]mid problem-solving and crisis management, life withers\u201d (2). For example, Han draws attention to climate activists who \u201copenly admit they are \u2018afraid of the future.\u2019 Fear,\u201d he suggests, \u201cdeprives them of their <\/span>future<\/span><\/i>.\u201d Han, of course, doesn\u2019t \u201cdeny that climate fear is justified,\u201d but stresses rather that \u201cthe pervasive <\/span>climate of fear<\/span><\/i> is [also] a cause for concern\u201d (3). Alternatively, \u201c[h]ope presents us with a <\/span>future<\/span><\/i>\u201d (2)\u2014a risky future<\/span>.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Risk is central to Han\u2019s emphatic remarks that hope is neither reducible to optimism nor the tenets of positive psychology. For optimists, the future is accessible and riskless. In this sense, optimism is akin to fear\u2014both \u201cdo not reckon with the unexpected or incalculable\u201d (5). Although optimism and pessimism are often seen as opposites\u2014the former insistent that everything will turn out, the latter just as insistent that everything is lost\u2014Han argues that they share a common structure insofar as they \u201ccannot conceive of an <\/span>event<\/span><\/i> that would constitute a surprising twist to the way things are going\u201d (6). Moreover, whereas hope is tied to action, and \u201c[a]ction is always associated with risk,\u201d optimists don\u2019t \u201cproperly <\/span>act<\/span><\/i>\u201d because they don\u2019t \u201ctake risks\u201d (6). Hope fully confronts the risk of the other, tarrying with what Han calls \u201cnegativity.\u201d \u201cUnlike hope, optimism lacks <\/span>negativity<\/span><\/i>\u201d (5). As does positive psychology, which turns away from what Martin Seligman, one of the founders of the movement, describes as the \u201cnegative focus\u201d of psychology. Hope, however, lingers with suffering, pain, and hopelessness. In reference to Pandora\u2019s box, Han craftily cites Nietzsche to make his point: \u201cFor what Zeus wanted was that man, however much tormented by other evils, should nonetheless not throw life away but continue to let himself be tormented. To that end he gives men hope\u201d (18).<\/span> \u201cHope is a dialectical figure\u201d (4).<\/span><\/p>\n

The repetitive form of Han\u2019s text is demonstrative of an ethics of \u201c<\/span>onward striving<\/span><\/i>.\u201d Han repeats because he\u2019s committed\u2014committed to the lastingness that is so central to his work, as well as its effect on his readership. Indeed, this onward striving is energized by the spirit of hope. If, as he argues, \u00e0 la Gabriel Marcel, \u201cto hope means \u2018to <\/span>spread<\/span><\/i> hope\u2019\u201d (14), then Han\u2019s text itself spreads hope, and resembles Hegel\u2019s \u201cbrave <\/span>mole of history<\/span><\/i> who confidently digs tunnels endlessly through the darkness\u201d (8). \u201cIt <\/span>keeps working away <\/span><\/i>amid darkness\u201d (9): \u201cthe bright light of hope feeds off the deepest darkness\u201d (39).<\/span><\/p>\n

This dialectic of hope not only lies at the heart of Han\u2019s theory, translated from the German by Daniel Steuer, but is also captured in Anselm Kiefer\u2019s illustrations, included in Polity\u2019s 2024 hardcover publication. Eight of the renowned German painter and sculptor\u2019s desolate and apocalyptic works, which span a variety of years, exhibitions, locations, and media, are interspersed throughout the text. Unpeopled, each of them glows with forsakenness on a biblical scale\u2014both in the size of the installations themselves and in the way mysterious darkness and holy lightness converge. Although some of its sublimity is lost in the downsized printed photographs of Georges Poncet chosen for the text, they still offer what Han calls hope\u2019s \u201c<\/span>contemplative<\/span><\/i>\u201d dimension, stopping the reader in their tracks, getting them to \u201c<\/span>lean<\/span><\/i> forward<\/span><\/i> and <\/span>listen<\/span><\/i> attentively<\/span><\/i>\u201d (5). In other words, Kiefer provides the conditions for the viewer \u201cto reckon with the unexpected or incalculable\u201d (5). The stirring marriage of Kiefer\u2019s aesthetics and Han\u2019s philosophy is built on this \u201c<\/span>fundamental mood<\/span><\/i>\u201d (81): hope lies somewhere in between art and wisdom\u2014equally as unsure as it is sure<\/span>. <\/span><\/i>\u201cOnly in the deepest despair does true hope arise\u201d (4).<\/span><\/p>\n

The relationship Han constructs between hope and anxiety further expresses this dialectic. Although \u201cthe precise opposite of anxiety, hope structurally resembles it\u201d (71), he claims. We are not anxious <\/span>of<\/span><\/i> something; anxiety is objectless; it comes upon us\u2014before language and experience\u2014as an existential mood that \u201ccan <\/span>ambush, capture <\/span><\/i>and <\/span>transform us<\/span><\/i>\u201d (25). The question is: must this mood be anxiety? Here, Han responds to Heidegger by suggesting an existential analysis based<\/span> \u201con<\/span> hope rather than anxiety.\u201d Whereas \u201c[a]nxiety radically narrows the <\/span>field of possibilities<\/span><\/i>\u201d (78), hope widens them. But we are also not hopeful <\/span>of<\/span><\/i> something. Like anxiety, \u201chope is <\/span>without an object<\/span><\/i>\u201d (71), and is, therefore, to be sharply distinguished from expectations or wishes, which \u201care bound up with an object or a worldly event.\u201d \u201cHope,\u201d Han tells us, \u201cis independent of how things will end\u201d (81). Although it readies us for the future, hope never arrives there. <\/span>\u201cNot-arriving <\/span><\/i>is the fundamental trait of absolute hope\u201d (42).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The temporal discrepancy Han demarcates between night-dreams\u2014which \u201creveal the past\u201d (29)\u2014and daydreams\u2014which \u201cdepict what is coming\u201d (29)\u2014also figures strongly in Kiefer\u2019s art: the darkness of coming to terms with the horrors of German fascism confronts a spiritual \u201c<\/span>premonition of a higher truth<\/span><\/i>.\u201d<\/span> The theory, like the art, is destitute <\/span>and<\/span><\/i> numinous, despondent <\/span>and<\/span><\/i> divine. \u201cBeauty, as a medium of hope that is located beyond all profane purposive rationality, illumines a <\/span>possible world<\/span><\/i> beyond what exists\u201d (63).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

We continue to let ourselves be tormented not because of some future promise\u2013hope is rendered superfluous by promises and contracts (36),\u2013nor because we are \u201cbound up with any concrete article of faith\u201d (81), but rather because hope \u201cis a <\/span>force<\/span><\/i>, a <\/span>momentum<\/span><\/i>\u201d (23). An elementary question to ask of Han, of course, is the question of agency: how do we create this momentum, how do we bring about a \u201c<\/span>politics of hope<\/span><\/i> that creates an <\/span>atmosphere<\/span><\/i> of hope against <\/span>the regime of fear<\/span><\/i>\u201d (14)? If \u201c[t]he spirit of hope inspires action\u201d (35), then, on Han\u2019s view, we are left waiting to be touched by the spirit. This, I think, is precisely his point, and it\u2019s one that reveals our cultural elevation of action over contemplation, which this question assumes. But \u201chope does not circle around the self.\u201d \u201cThe fundamental formula of hope is \u2018to rely on\u2019\u201d (83). As Daniel Steuer notes, \u201c[t]he German for \u2018to rely on\u2019 is \u2018<\/span>Sich-<\/span><\/i>verlassen-auf.\u2019 The italics hint at hope involving a trust that allows one to leave oneself behind and rely on something or someone outside oneself\u201d (97n27). In short, we do not bring about hope\u2014<\/span>hope brings about us<\/span><\/i>. Indeed, \u201c[h]ope is a catalyst for writing\u201d (40) that moves through him, and that now moves through me. In this way, the text <\/span>stages<\/span><\/i> this reliance.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Like the trinity of hope, faith, and love, this text holds all three within its pages. \u201cAll three are turned towards the <\/span>other<\/span><\/i>. Those who hope, love[,] or believe devote <\/span>themselves<\/span><\/i> to the <\/span>other<\/span><\/i>; they transcend the immanence of the self\u201d; they \u201cmove <\/span>beyond themselves<\/span><\/i>\u201d (83) \u201cin the face of total hopelessness\u201d (42). There is no clearly discernible alternative in <\/span>The Spirit of Hope, <\/span><\/i>and yet we persist. \u201cAbsolute hope is a hopeless hope\u201d (42).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The painting that dons the cover of the text is titled in homage to Venetian philosopher, Andrea Emo: \u201cThese writings, when burnt, will finally give some light.\u201d The paradise of ruins it depicts is cut in two by a rickety, redemptive ladder. This same painting stretches between pages 12 and 13. The ladder, however, is obscured by the spine of the book. A reader could easily miss it. The hope, represented by the ladder, precedes us, even as it\u2019s hidden from view; it inspires us to spread open these pages\u2014to climb it with no guarantees. \u201cTo live means to hope\u201d (22).\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Hope calls us to be ready. Han maintains that \u201cThe conventional criticism of hope ignores its complexity and inner tensions\u201d (23). By fully embracing messiness, he gives us hope that hope, too, can be <\/span>our<\/span><\/i> mood, in an increasingly hopeless world: the light visible only in the darkness.<\/span><\/p>\n

The sentences in <\/span>The Spirit of Hope, <\/span><\/i>like many of Han\u2019s pithy and packed prose demand as much of our hearts as they do of our minds. His style softens the sharp edges of our thinking while remaining incisive and cutting, his words beg to be underlined and internalized, and his ideas will be appreciated not only by students and teachers of the humanities, but by anyone wrestling with the horrors of this world. It is a text that is not only a critical companion, but a spiritual one. <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Byung-Chul Han, The Spirit of Hope. Translated by Daniel Steuer. New York: Polity, 2024, 111 pp. ISBN: 9781509565191 Reviewed by Tanner R. Layton, Centre for the Study of Theory and Criticism, Western University For Joel Faflak. To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy Power, which […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":25,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[321,322,38,295],"class_list":["post-13914","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-reviews","tag-byung-chul-hans","tag-hope","tag-phenomenology","tag-social-and-political-philosophy","et-doesnt-have-format-content","et_post_format-et-post-format-standard"],"publishpress_future_action":{"enabled":false,"date":"2026-05-04 13:20:18","action":"Draft","newStatus":"draft","terms":[],"taxonomy":"category"},"publishpress_future_workflow_manual_trigger":{"enabledWorkflows":[]},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13914","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/25"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13914"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13914\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13916,"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13914\/revisions\/13916"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13914"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13914"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/c-scp.org\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13914"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}