The opposite of fear is hope, defined as the expectation of good fortune not only for ourselves but for the group to which we belong. Fear feeds anxiety and produces anger; hope, particularly in a political sense, breeds optimism and feelings of well-being. Fear is about limits; hope is about growth. Fear casts its eyes warily, even shiftily, across the landscape; hope looks forward, toward the horizon. Fear points at others, assigning blame; hope points ahead, working for a common good. Fear pushes away; hope pulls others closer. Fears divide; hope unifies.

“The coward, then, is a despairing sort of person; for he fears everything,” Aristotle wrote. “The brave man, on the other hand, has the opposite disposition; for confidence is the mark of a hopeful disposition.”

From “The Soul of America,” by Jon Meacham

Historian Jon Meacham addresses a recurrent sickness in this country—the significant gap between the right and the left.  But that division has occurred in many countries of the Western World. In Spain, when this difference of opinion turned into hatred, the Spanish Civil War began. Half a million people died.  The author quotes Mark Twain, who said, “History never repeats itself, but it does often rhyme.”  But unfortunately, history repeats itself.  Wasn’t the second world war a repeat of the first one? The book’s political goal turns me off, but some observations are worth reading as the above snippet. Aristotle’s words say it all, “The coward, then, is a despairing sort of person; for he fears everything. The brave man, on the other hand, has the opposite disposition; for confidence is the mark of a hopeful disposition.”