By the time I started working as a reporter at the Los Angeles Times thirty years ago, the California dystopia genre was already well established.

Three times in the early 1990s, the cover of Time magazine announced the demise of the Golden State: “California: the disappearing dream. » “California: state of shock. » “Los Angeles: is the City of Angels going to hell? » Not to be outdone, Newsweek stepped in with “California: American Dream, American Nightmare” and a few years later with “California in Crisis,” complete with a cartoon showing the state literally falling apart and falling into the Pacific Ocean .

Earthquakes. Forest fires. The palpable effects of climate change. Racial injustice. The very rich and the very poor live together uncomfortably. The ups and downs of an innovation economy. This is the story of California – both exciting and a little volatile. In the 1990s, the narrative of California as an epic disaster was tinged with jubilation — a reward for a star-making destination that, for decades, was the wonderland of postwar America . Now the story seems more like a permanent state of mind as well as a weapon of cultural warfare. In a sign of the times, a popular podcaster speaking about the painful recession gripping Hollywood recently said: “LA is currently a version of Detroit with much better weather conditions.”

It’s easy to see the defeat of Kamala HarrisThis is yet another loss for California, both because it is a product of the state and because much of his political philosophy was formed here.

Many Californians woke up Wednesday with a deep sense of darkness about the future of the state and nation.

April 19, 1993

(Time Inc.)

But does fatalism blind us to the role California must play today and what it can do to move the world forward?

James Fallows makes this point in a pre-election essay in Wired, where he argues that California’s role as a force for good and innovation will continue despite election results or even our own misgivings. State resistance to the rise of Trumpism is far from our most important contribution, he says.

“California deserves new attention as a ‘state of reinvention’ rather than a ‘state of resistance,’” he writes. “Even under Trump, there is still a good chance that as California evolves, the country will eventually follow, and ultimately much of the world.”

Fallows, a famous American columnist who grew up in Redlands, offers counter-narratives to some of California’s biggest black eyes. Our budget is way over “Train to nowhere” high-speed rail system? This is an epic project that, when finally completed, will fundamentally change the way we get around and could potentially make the Central Valley a hub for desperately needed affordable housing. California, a Dickensian and self-interested world of excess and disorder? How about the state’s resounding success volunteer citizen body that builds community and compassion – and is copied across the country?

His essay doesn’t dwell on some of California’s enormous and seemingly intractable challenges: homelessness, generational poverty in urban areas, crisis of housing accessibility, shocking resultsRising temperatures play a role in so many areas of life. But it offers a rare sense of optimism and a reminder of the mid-century California exceptionalism that is increasingly hard to find in the Golden State.

Optimism does not solve problems. But what about the feeling that our problems are vast and insurmountable? Fallows believes that “declinist alarmism” about California comes from the same mindset that maintains that America is a failed state (something people have been saying since the 1960s, despite ample evidence to the contrary).

The view of downtown from the Griffith Observatory

(Christopher Reynolds/Los Angeles Times)

I recently read the book “Smogtown” by Chip Jacobs and William J. Kelly, a excellent story of Los Angeles’ long but surprisingly successful fight against air pollution. It’s hard to imagine living in this world today, where toxic air kills children, your garden, crops and even crashing motorists due to blinding smog. But the most illuminating part of the book was the story of California’s uphill struggle to get the rest of America to care about smog. Los Angeles was suffocating, but to the rest of the country it seemed like a local problem. And the solution – regulating the industry – seemed downright un-American. Washington has turned its back on us. Los Angeles has gone to war with Detroit, which has led decades of successful efforts to reduce auto emissions. But California ultimately won, and in doing so, it started an environmental movement who changed the world for the better.

It might be difficult this week to take much comfort from these lessons if you’re dismayed by the prospect of President Trump and Washington Republicans rolling back the clock on climate change regulations, LGBTQ+ protections and others measures adopted by most Californians. But keeping hope and faith is essential in times like this. I devour a lot of self-help and personal development books, and many preach about the dangers of what happens when you lose hope.

Few people understand California history better than Jerry Brown, derided as “Governor Moonbeam” in the 1970s, hailed as an environmental savior in the 2010s.

“Every decade since the 1960s, dystopian journalists have written stories about the impending decline of our economy, culture, and politics. » » declared during his second term as governor.

“I see untapped potential and incredible opportunities.”