Rally for Science speaker series: Mike Vlah
Posts in this series are transcribed from speeches given at the March 7 Rally for Science, from the steps of Logan Courthouse. Mike Vlah is a water data scientist and lover of rivers.
Pathfinding as the Act of Hope
Scientific credentials do not confer the respect they once did. That’s partly because fascists fear intellectuals and are actively dismantling our institutions. But it’s also because people feel helpless, feel a loss of agency, in the face of a future where AI agents might absorb our value as workers. When controlling billionaires barely recognize our shared humanity, people grow despondent.
In despondence, some turn to a nihilistic sort of hope that says, “it's all so bad right now, and I’m overwhelmed. I can’t fight this anymore. Does it even matter anymore?” This kind of hope says, “maybe someone will come along and save us. Deliver us from these times.”
Science alone can’t soothe these fears. To those who would never think of attending a rally like today’s, science might look like one of the enemies. It might look like AI, or authority, or just someone else’s inscrutable priorities. And it’s going to take time to reverse the slide toward Medieval thinking that we’ve seen in this century.
So where does hope come from in times like this, and what forms does it take? That’s what I want to talk about. Not optimism, and not faith, which must trust or presuppose. No. I want to talk about a pathfinding view of reality; a navigational hope. The process of hope, which recognizes that life, and the universe, are vast beyond measure and reckoning. That there is always a best path forward. We can never be sure we’re doomed, because time, at least for now, goes on. There are steps yet to take. Take them and see! Hope is the only rational view.
Concretely, I work in water; I think about water. Nothing lives without water. And we happen to live in Cache Valley, perhaps the water-wealthiest area of this state.
Hope starts small, and it grows, so we start by speaking up to our local water managers, explaining that we need to be bold leaders in building the systems and the culture that will deliver the arid West into a livable future. I’m talking about water banking, leasing, and tiered rating–of course, all of these. But not only these! We must be leaders in conservation, too, because what a strong example we set by having ample resources and still being careful with them. Most of all, we need to be leaders in simple generosity. There is no reason we can’t demonstrate as Cache County what Jesus would do as a person, and find ways not only to sell, but to share and dedicate our water downstream, and to make it effortless for individuals to follow suit if they are inclined. This modern world is no place for first-in-time, first-in-right, first-in-might. Let’s build a culture that takes care of those downstream–the people and the Great Salt Lake. It must start here.
Hope grows! So next we talk to our state leaders, many of whom earnestly care about water stewardship and the Great Salt Lake. More than you might think! The rest? Well, they’re at least convinced we need to look good for the 2034 Olympics! And the remaining few heed every directive handed down by their glorious leader in the White House, and even he just said we need to save the Great Salt Lake. There is hope in that. A sad, postmodern hope, but an undeniable one.
We don't need scientists to do all of this work, though of course they're well positioned to do it (and positioned to do it well). We can all message our legislators! We can all show up at rallies, or even run for office! We can all stop watering the Kentucky bluegrass on our lawns! We can be the change we need to see, and foster the kind of hope that keeps us moving, keeps us together, finding the pathways through these strange and trying times.
It starts small, and it grows to fill basins.
Speech by Mike Vlah