Suvin-Utopia or Bust
Suvin-Utopia or Bust
Suvin-Utopia or Bust
Darko Suvin
Darko Suvin
abstract
In the introduction to the 2015 reprint of her classical Partial Visions, Angelika Bammer
cites the pithy injunction of the American poet and feminist thinker Adrienne Rich:
“We need to imagine a world in which every woman is the presiding genius of her own
body. In such a world women will truly create new life, bringing forth . . . the visions,
and the thinking necessary to sustain, console, and alter human existence. . . .
Sexuality, politics, intelligence, power, motherhood, work, community, intimacy will
develop new meaning; thinking itself will be transformed.” Based on sustaining, con-
soling, and radically altering the present dire state of human existence, the author
leads to two sets of initial arguments: Where Are We (in general), and What Are We
(in particular) Doing Wrong. What follows are samples of possible answers, perhaps
representative beyond themselves.
keywords: Utopia, dystopia, Anthropocene
doi: 10.5325/utopianstudies.32.1.0001
Utopian Studies, Vol. 32, No. 1, 2021
Copyright © 2021. The Pennsylvania State University, University Park, PA
within philology, that is, to act against the age and so have an effect on
the age to the advantage, it is to be hoped, of a coming age. . . . But
then let this explanation, which I offer with some doubt to be sure, be
replaced by better explanations.
Friedrich Nietzsche,
On the Advantage and Disadvantage of History for Life
In the introduction to the 2015 reprint of her classical Partial Visions Angelika
Bammer cites the pithy injunction of the American poet and feminist thinker
Adrienne Rich:
Based on sustaining, consoling, and radically altering the present dire state
of human existence, I am led to two sets of initial arguments: Where Are
We (in general), and What Are We (in particular) Doing Wrong. What
follows are samples of possible answers, perhaps representative beyond
themselves.2
“What may I hope?” was Kant’s famous third question in the Critique of Pure
Reason, after asking “What can I know?” and “What should I do?”3 Indeed,
what can we know and what may we hope in the capitalocene, this over-
whelming anti-utopian tsunami we are drowning in, hoping to come within
sight of an island, which, as John Donne told us, is “a piece of the continent/
A part of the main/ . . . For I am involved in mankind.”4
Historically, capitalist corporations engaged from the mid-1970s in a
large-scale offensive to depress wages per unit of production and boost
profits. Using the slogans of free trade and globalization, the rich orga-
nized bundles of radical interventions by major states and organizations
of international capitalism (GATT, WTO, IMF, and the World Bank)
to make themselves vastly richer, while multiplying the poor in their
nations, eviscerating the middle-class prosperity based on stable employ-
ment, and upping the income gap between rich and poor countries from
10:1 to 90:1. A large class of chronically poor was created, politically neu-
tralized by creating fear of even poorer immigrants. In this top-down class
warfare, ca. 2.5 billion people, the “global reserve army of unemployed,
vulnerably employed, and economically inactive” struggle today to sur-
vive, failing fast, while more than half of them live in the most abject
poverty, more or less quickly dying of hunger and attendant diseases
(cf. Thomas Pogge); so that the hundred million dead and several hun-
dred million other casualties of warfare in the twentieth century seem
puny in comparison—though their terror and suffering is not. Add to this
hydra-headed marginalization and bureaucratic exclusion, in turn causing
violent individual and collective retaliations, as well as the “slow” struc-
tural violence caused by destruction of environment and the aftermath
of war (cf. Rob Nixon).5 Economic “growth” benefits only the rich, at
the expense of everybody else.6 I shall here insist only on two foci of the
perfectly sinful capitalocene: war and ecocide.
War
The Keynesian Welfare State of blessed memory finally succeeded only
in tandem with “military Keynesianism”: the heavy rearmament that in
the 1930s–40s primed the pump of business upswing and remained the
precondition of a relative affluence. Its price was the Nazi regime, World
War II, and High Stalinism. Imperialism today is healthy and thriving, an
embedded intellectual calling in the United States for global dominance.7
If radically anticapitalist and anti-authoritarian perspectives of exiting from
this predicament are not found, we shall have more ongoing wars in the
south (including northern ghettos) as well as refurbished fascism in the
global north.
As Subcomandante Marcos notes, war plays a structurally essential role
in state monopoly capitalism.8 War is based in the central forces of antago-
nistic competition, the “essential locomotive force” of bourgeois economy
and “generally the mode in which capital secures the victory of its mode of
production”; it is the surest way to realize capitalism’s “grow or die,” also
known as the GOD imperative.9 The political fallout is the spread of military
rule that subordinates the civil society to its barbarity even in times of official
peace—as today.
Since World War II armaments commodities are not only the source
of greatest extra-profit but also a system-pillar of capitalism. The capi-
talist market systematically favors armaments commodities because
of their uniquely high value-added price, their especially rapid rate of
obsolescence and turnover, the monopoly or semi-monopoly position of
their manufacturers, and the large-scale and secure financing of military
research, and production, and of massive cost overruns. This most prof-
itable part of global trade is the strongest factor of both international
violence and the colonization of life-worlds and ecosystems by the com-
modity economy.
American sociologist Eric Olin Wright’s verdict in 2004, when worse was
yet to come, was that capitalist class relations perpetuate eliminable forms
of human suffering as well deficits in human freedom and autonomy, largely
based on domination of work and large inequalities of wealth; capitalism vio-
lated liberal egalitarian principles of social justice.10 Going beyond Wright,
I contend that it is not only indifferent to mass middle-class democracy but
mostly inimical to mass plebeian democracy, where people—a Gramscian
civil society—control the State.
Ecocide
The capitalocene does not work for our ecological balance, sorely upset by
overconsumption of energy; to the contrary, to prevent collapse we need
To narrow the focus to our professional affairs, yet keeping very much in
mind the above general context that shapes us all, I have three main problems
with what appears a successful tendency in much important utopology of the
last decade or two. I begin with an incident that shocked me and go on with
a plea flowing from an oral Yiddish anecdote.
Of course there is no god’s eye view on any textual (or other) event or
existent; any understanding or evaluation is historically delimited, “right” for
a given social class, nation, epoch, and so on. Nonetheless, if it is difficult to
say what is right, we can from collective experience often say what is wrong.
While I remain persuaded that without formal analysis we are bound to be
wrong, I am now increasingly concerned by any stance that hides its always
already presupposed value-judgments. It seems clear there are no utopian
studies without values: these can only be open or hidden, right or wrong.
My example stems from a large exhibition called “Utopia: The Search for the
Ideal Society in the Western World” at the New York Public Library and the
Paris Bibliothèque Nationale, 2000–2001, for which some of us were asked
to supply a short text online. I did so, too—though I was unhappy at the
NYPL questions, mainly interested in internet as utopia. I have recently been
alerted by several sources, the main written one being Jacoby’s book, to the
fact that the visitors could find in one and the same room photographs, docu-
ments, audiotapes, and other artifacts from the Israeli collective farms (kib-
butzim), from Martin Luther King and the US civil rights movement, and
from Nazi propaganda.18 I checked this also with the relevant pages of the
exhibition catalog, and it was confirmed by an e-mail to me by Professor
Lyman T. Sargent after the SUS conference.19 I gather that the exhibition also
presented photographs from the Auschwitz liquidation camp but I do not
know in which room. No information pointing out that any of these were
included as contrary to utopia or utopianism seems to have been included,
or Jacoby and Sargent would surely have mentioned it. I must therefore rue
even my marginal participation on the fringe of the exhibition. As we ought
to know, the kibbutzim, where a number of my friends lived for a brief time
or permanently, were a sterling example of egalitarian and non-State com-
munism, and were logically stifled by the surge of capitalism and militarism
in Israel. To couple them with Nazism is an example of the deep wrongness
of the totalitarianism concept that I discuss later.
10
With this in mind, I shall divide the rest of this article into a brief
general discussion of method I’d find useful for our (and any other) pur-
pose of understanding sign-systems, and a main focus on anti-utopia,
which has lately persuaded me to abandon some cherished beliefs about
utopias and utopianism.
While we do not know what` the correct thing would be, we know
exactly . . . what the false thing is.
Adorno in a 1964 conversation with Bloch about utopias27
Premise: Here are some reflections on keystones for a usable epistemology. They
are an amendable initial view and stance. These presuppositions and positions
are divided into general or methodological approaches and approaches to
“science” (here omitted). They re-produce—that is, both repeat and advance
from—some of my writings of the last quarter century, in which all references
can be found.28 The subdivisions are for analytical convenience. They do not
necessarily imply a mapping of terrain but only of stances. Example: any Pos-
sible World must be acceptable for an empirical reader and thus deals also in
Values.
In both presuppositions and positions, a double cognitive movement
is necessary: destruction (deconstruction) of old ways of thinking, focusing
on useless interpretation of key terms; construction of dialectically flexible,
usable meanings of such terms, having a constant denotative core yet pul-
sating—expanding and shrinking—periphery of connotations. The rhythm
and direction of the pulsations are historically contingent and situational,
subject to phronesis (Fingerspitzengefühl, practical wisdom) rather than
theoria.
Our tools are no doubt notional, they are regulative ideas. However, in all
richer cases they repose on a metaphor (in the widest sense of a trope). They
are all initially located in the imagination, but imagination becomes reality
when it enters the belief of masses, to paraphrase Marx.
An axiom: the survival of Homo sapiens sapiens has precedence over the
profit principle.
11
Old totality was stable; it could accommodate slight or, at any rate, nonstructural
changes in the fashion of Lampedusa’s slogan in Gattopardo: “everything changes
[in politics] in order to remain the same [in economics].”29 Such totality was
then perverted by Gentile and Mussolini into the ideology of “totalitarianism,”
meaning total organization of society by the State from above, fusing the
politics and economics; Stalinism largely came to follow a kindred, equally
bloody if more productive, idea. Both were centrally aspiring to a kind of divine
perfection, perhaps relevant to times before the Industrial Revolution and its
huge changes within one lifetime, beginning with the Napoleonic Wars (not to
speak about the following revolutions in technology and cognition). Shocked by
all these politics, Arendt and the liberal doxa of post-modernism not only rightly
refused them but also threw the baby out with the bathwater, logically ending
in “weak thought.”
It is much more economical to wash the baby, that is, to retain the con-
cept of strategic, flexible, and imperfect totalities as the only possible objects
of cognitive acts.30 “Strategic” means shaped by deep and cognitively argued
situational necessities; “flexible” means changeable in extension and inten-
sion; “imperfect” means not only unfinished but in principle unfinishable
dualities and multiplicities. No image or notion is graspable except as such a
(provisional) totality.
Total does not mean all-exhaustive, or that everything is to be planned
from above and violently enforced. Many major utopian writings are
open-ended totalities. Any totality has inbuilt contradictions that make for
changes, glacially slow or explosively sudden. The art or phronesis of plan-
ning, of being ready for the unforeseeable future, is to find the dominant
contradiction.31
12
on its imaginary encyclopedia) yet significantly different from it. The possible
cognitive increment lies in the difference and its applicability, direct or very
indirect, to our common world.
All art and all planning deals implicitly with Possible Worlds. This is fore-
grounded for example in science fiction or five-year plans. It is the raison d’être
for utopias of all kinds.
A Possible World must explain to the reader any significant deviation
from his/her/our current encyclopedia as coherent; it is believable and
esthetically successful in precise relation to how clearly and fully it manages
this explanation. However, it contains in principle no guarantees of success—
or failure—for the agents and actions in it: you commit yourself and then see,
said Napoleon (on s’engage et puis on voit). Some variants may have inbuilt feli-
cific rules (for example fairytales or Sun-hero myths à la St. George, or official
optimism about a plan); some may have inbuilt horrorific rules (for example,
horror fantasy after Poe and Lovecraft, much Kaf ka, apocalyptic pessimism,
Orwell’s 1984), but these are protocols superadded to its fundamental neutral-
ity. These protocols are therefore special cases, very limited in epistemic rele-
vance and spacetime applicability. The wholly rosy and wholly bleak horizons
can still be used as suggestive hyperbolae, first, for extreme situations (when
they may be extremely relevant), and second, for propaedeutic exaggeration
in various other limited situations.
3.1. Homo sapiens knows s/he will die, and asks: What is it all for? The answer is
digital—either nihil or reliance on some value. Being a value-bound creature
defines homo’s exit from the purely animal world of infinite contingency and
instinctual reaction.
Our personal and collective lives are little barks, or at best sailboats, buoyed
by the ocean of values, with conflicting cold and warm currents traversing it
and us (most fish are to be found at their meeting points). Even if they were
transoceanic liners or super-aircraft carriers, a tsunami groundswell is stronger.
Remember the Titanic, the USSR, and Lehman Brothers! The Roman republic
seems to have wisely decreed any triumphator should be accompanied by an
official whispering to him “Memento mori! (Remember thou shalt die!).”
Since we must use the long wave-roll of values, let’s pick one main one
wisely. Surf it.
13
3.2. “If God and Communism are dead, anything is permitted” (extrapolation
from Nietzsche and Dostoevsky for today). Yet people either live with values
of freedom and friendliness (solidarity), or with values of violent domina-
tion and exploitation. These may be more conscious in intellectuals, who
articulate them in language or other sign systems, but operate and act just
as strongly in everybody else. In that sense, as Gramsci and Brecht argued,
everybody is an (at least latent) intellectual.
Positive value is co-extensive with productivity or creativity in the widest
sense, encompassing almost all human action. A mother cares for the child
because she values it, and herself for it. A worker cares for the work insofar as
it and he are not alienated. A learner (such as most of us are through most of
our lives) cares for her learning because it multiplies his strengths and delights.
A lover cares for his beloved because the love enriches both their beings.
Given that human nature and sense abhor vacuum of value, there are
after the Industrial Revolution, and with increasing insistence, two possi-
ble clusters of nonperverted value: traditional and new, known or not yet
existing (Bloch). Creativity may be rule-governed or rule-changing; often,
both interpenetrate in different proportions.32 In good times rule-governed
values are to be preferred, in bad times—such as ours—the rule-changing
values are.
3.3. My axiom and presupposition is that value gets formed and expands
where there are more chances for and experiments with comprehensive
self-determination—in exact inversion of Nietzsche’s proposition that value
increases where there are “more favourable preconditions for more com-
prehensive forms of domination.”33 The locus of self-determination is in
each individual personality, but its actualization and forms are only possible
through collective actions of production, circulation, and/or use. A believ-
able collective project always lurks in the background, shaping the horizons
of one’s individual life (or we are in anomie and pathology). This constella-
tion results in nonviolent meanings, meaningfulness.
Domination or lording it means enjoying the loss of self-determination
in others. This inevitably perverts one’s own self-determination. In today’s
inverted world most people in power follow this Satanic practice in relation
to other people and our natural environment. This is why we have to find and
favor the exact contrary.
14
God has chosen things which are not (tà mè ónta) to abolish those
which are.
Paul of Tarsus, 1 Corinthians 1:28
15
16
transoceanic ships, and in some ways a desperate attempt to use these huge
weapons of domination for freedom (as can be clearly seen in some first stir-
rings of air-travel notions). Consubstantially, space becomes a sense-making
machine by means of nomination, turning imperial conquest and coloniza-
tion into a possibility of humanizing power relationships. There might be
additional general procedures or devices, such as a deviant listing or catego-
rizing of main human relationships under power, but I think these too func-
tion by way of the first two.39
For example, Morris’s taking over in News from Nowhere the names and
map first of London city and then of the Thames valley serves his purpose of
palingenesis, the rebirth of human simplicity and esthetic joy in classless soci-
ety, but it also marks his proximity to Earthly Paradise rather than to utopia
proper which needs a strategically believable politico-economical overview.40
Thus utopian texts—and following them, all utopianism including
attempts at philosophy and colonies—were born as political animals wedded
to a possibility of freedom, to be negotiated between the individuals and vari-
ous power currents in the collectivity. At times, “utopia is a matter of inner-
most urgency, something we are pushed into as a matter of survival, when it
is no longer possible to go on within the parameters of the ‘possible.’”41 True,
there were authoritarian utopias galore, most significantly the early ones by
Bacon and Campanella, and even More oscillated between democracy and
patriarchy, but these were particular choices within an epistemologically
open horizon: if America exists, all is possible!—all kinds of freedom and
even a new elite authoritarianism. I have been insisting now for almost half a
century that “though formally closed, significant utopia is thematically open:
its pointings reflect back on the reader’s ‘topia’” and I cited Barthes to the
effect that the utopian écriture must mobilize at the same time an image and
its contrary.42
It is also to my mind incontrovertible that all such Possible Counter-
Worlds are modeled upon our everyday Possible World as a totality, a how-
ever provisional and experimental world: despite modest early avatars as an
island or colony, the space and its meaning is always an exemplary and radical
counterproject aiming at a different way of human existing. Near the begin-
ning of the best modern survey, Jameson’s Archaeologies, he writes that “total-
ity is then precisely this combination of closure and system . . . that presides
over the forms of Utopian realisation: the Utopian city, the Utopian revolu-
tion, the Utopian commune or village, and of course the Utopian text itself.”43
17
By means of the “passion for totality” the utopian impulse blossoms into the
utopian alternative project, sprung forth full-blown from the pen of Thomas
More, as Athena from the brain of Zeus.44 The paradigm can be grasped,
Jameson argues, in the qualitative jump from the preliminary sketches of
strange countries in Book One of Utopia to the radically original, totalizing
invention of Book Two: “The [countries in Book One are] . . . imagined as
enclaves within our existent world; whereas, despite the positioning and the
supplementary explanations, Utopia is somehow felt to replace our world
altogether.”45
Amid our age of “weak thought,” let me disambiguate: here total does
not mean all-exhaustive (though it is a temptation some utopographers suc-
cumb to, witness Campanella—as well as some pernicious bureaucratic med-
dlers in many capitalist or pseudo-socialist agencies); nor does it mean that
everything is planned from above and violently enforced, as in Mussolini’s
favorite adjective of “totalitarian.” Rather it entails a radically different
Possible World—that is, a notional totality that for the cognitive purposes of
feedback resembles our encyclopedic idea of our world. No image or notion
is graspable except as a (provisional) totality. Yet finally, many major utopian
writings are in curious and ingenious ways open-ended totalities, from More’s
final sentence and Bacon’s unfinished fragment to, say, the multiplicities of
choice in K. S. Robinson’s Mars trilogy, and I have been worrying at open-end-
edness since reading Bloch, who tied his “concrete utopia” to an open system,
for example in my essay “Brecht vs. Ibsen: Breaking Open the Individualist or
Closed Dramaturgy.”46
18
19
written to warn against utopias, not (as dystopias do) against the existing sta-
tus quo, and perhaps culminated, if that’s the word, in Ayn Rand’s Anthem.51
As Tom Moylan discussed at length in Scraps of the Untainted Sky, dystopia’s
mobilizing pessimism entails that the reader should do something about it
while now anti-utopia’s demobilizing pessimism entails that nothing could or
should be done.52
The pedigree of anti-utopianism has been little explored, but my
hypothesis would be that, except for possible precursors like Aristophanes’s
Women in Parliament, it began in ideological horror at the French and simi-
lar revolutions, in England by Burke and the conservative romantics.53 Such
reactions in part rightly sensed the dangers of State-worship among both
capitalists and communists, but then used it to oppose the horizon of human
disalienation and radical democracy in the nineteenth century; this became
neuralgic especially after the 1917 Russian Revolution and its direct or indirect
fallout, within which utopianism was often wedded to communism or social-
ism: the Welfare State.
In terms of literary history and narration, anti-utopia was mainly
confined to two reactionary clusters, the anti-Bellamy one in the 1890s
and the anti-Leninist one in the 1920s–30s, reprised from the 1950s on.
As a rule, it was poor. The writer and style were less important; absent
were all the usual qualities by which, first, not only the great ancestors,
from More to Percy Shelley, but also Wells or Zamyatin or Lem or Le
Guin or the Strugatsky Brothers were great writers tout court. But second,
those qualities also characterized a thick supporting substratum of what
I’d call a “2a class” of considerable writers supplying stimulating ideas,
alternatives, and plots—from Jack London, A. T. Wright, Olaf Stapledon,
Stanley Weinbaum, Aldous Huxley, the US 1940s–50s “new maps of hell,”
and Orwell to (say) Brunner, Russ, Mitchison, Callenbach, Piercy, Dick,
Atwood, Macleod, and a dozen other SF writers. Anti-utopia gets its force
outside fiction, from obsessive repetition of its ideological points in all
aligned media and think-tanks and from the whip of obscurity and hunger
(where not drone liquidation) for dissenters. However, I am concerned
with its existential embodiment rather than its narrative form here.
Given the very small role and poor quality of anti-utopia in literature,
I earlier thought it was a weird variety of the “black” utopia, but this turns
out to be wrong. All of us now live within a leaden existential global clo-
sure where we are threatened by anti-utopia as Destiny of subjection within
a long-duration collapse of capitalist structures of accumulation—Lehman
Brothers, Trump, or Brexit, anyone? This introduces a radical reversal, or
more precisely eversion, from a situation in which interested readers looked
from outside at utopia/nism as a choice of freedom, an exhilarating Possible
World, to a situation whereby all of us are willy-nilly inside anti-utopia in
our empirical, more and more decaying Zero World. This anti-utopian world
functions rather like the mathematized models in capitalist financial specula-
tion designed to make the modeled state of affairs more like the model. In
it, imaginative understanding is being pre-empted by myopic and malevolent
doing, while our choices are diverted from root—that is, radical—problems
to fickle fashion. We are being forcefully and often forcibly lived by anti-uto-
pia, a growing restriction of possibilities to work for life-enhancing change.
This is physically obvious when entire parts of the world are being thrust into
destruction by capitalist and/or its complementary nationalist armies, and
even for the richer enclaves (just so nobody should be spared) in the capitalo-
cene climate change. This changes all—including utopia/nism, its theory and
practice. And our analytic tools have to be adjusted to this victory of ideol-
ogy over utopia. One guideline: this cannot be done unless accompanied by
thorough and explicit analysis speaking against the central features of anti-
utopia—that is, today’s capitalism sliding into more or less fascism: sexism,
racism, terror, ecocide, and perpetual mega-warfare. To use critical dystopias
and eutopias in order to roll back anti-utopia is a matter of life and death for
most of us, possibly for humanity as a whole.
So what happens when, in a most radically bad novum, all of us find ourselves
thrust inside anti-utopia, a kind of demented Tron or Matrix movie we can-
not get out of, increasingly more bitter if not impossible to live in? If we are
to think about getting out, what are the events behind the events (Brecht) or
some approximation to deep causes? Whence the rise of anti-utopia as closed
horizon to politico-existential dominance or hegemony, beginning with the
breakthrough of Thatcher and Reagan and fully affirmed by the 1990s?
22
traits of anti-utopia: not only the usual fake novums foreclosing radical
ones, but also quantity instead of quality, closure instead of openness, fake
ontology instead of modest epistemology, point-like inescapability instead
of fertile traffic between past present and future, monologism instead of
contradictoriness, impotent horror instead of intervening hope and indigna-
tion, cynicism instead of belief, vertical leadership and horizontal identities
instead of polymorphic diversity enforced by recall democracy—Mussolini,
Carl Schmitt, and von Mises as Great Ancestors instead of Rousseau, J. S.
Mill, and Marx. Such traits culminate in the subsumptive unholy trinity of
anti-utopia—hatred of plebeian creativity and roaming intelligence (Denkverbot),
the State as repressive violence instead as public power, and annihilating warfare
instead of creative emulation. These traits amount to an anti-utopian “mytho-
logical machine” ( Jesi), blending degraded numinosity, power, and commod-
ity esthetics. It does not aim for truth—indeed truth is repressed and left in
obscurity, somewhere far behind—but for performativity, a fascistoid effect
on corruptible masses. In relation to the light of a disalienated humanity, it is,
to cite Milton, “No light, but rather darkness visible.”64 Sociologically, it is an
imperious reality concretized as capitalist mass media shaping mass opinion
and militarized violence enforcing it. It entails a thoroughgoing abolition of
free choice, on which any worthwhile culture, and within it the system of
literature and its genres, reposes—quite analogous to the lack of meaningful
choice in elections for the US presidency or the Council of Europe or the
Chinese Communist Party Central Committee, or in the fate of bombed-out
millions. Its ultimate horizon is not freedom but a police State, kept up by
what cannot be thought of.
As Foucault never tired to argue, despite some central waffling on
neo-liberalism, governing in his time comports “a formidable extension of
the control and coercion procedures . . . [of] the major disciplinary tech-
niques that take in and take care of (reprendre en charge) the individuals’
everyday behaviour up to the smallest detail.”65 The pretense at inclusion
of people into power and meaning is in fact a most frustrating exclusion,
where the body or “naked life” is the final and often only “capital” left.
The brunt of denial is aimed at the category of revolution and any claim
to fertile universality or open-ended totalization.66
A surface example: Rancière notes that “the pseudo-European
Constitution testifies to [hatred of democracy and egalitarianism] a contrario”;
the absence of “the irreducible ‘power of the people’” is then constituted
26
27
great fear of utopia that engendered the anti-utopia.72 Only the panic fear,
rage, and loathing at the supposed Leninism—communism come to power—
can explain the last forty-odd years of finally triumphant capitalism. Its alle-
gorical emblem is the “terminator gene” introduced by mega-corporations
into seeds to ensure they cannot be renewed, thus constituting the absence
of thousands of years of human crop cultivation, of the utopian horizon of
“bread for all.”73 Fear, as Bloch repeatedly explained, was the negative affect
we share with animals, to which hope, only present in humans, is opposed;
furthermore, hope “allows for logical and concrete correction and sharpen-
ing,” it is an “act of cognitive orientation (Richtungsakt).”74
Today we are blithely returning to the mere animality in us. Centrally,
the whole emancipatory panoply of capitalism’s radical bourgeois begin-
nings—from humanist culture and Enlightenment through revolutions and
Romanticism—is being ruthlessly and systematically scrapped, up to the
shark-like liquidation of traces of welfare for (the) people. As Marx piercingly
observed: when events force upon the bourgeoisie a democratic constitution,
this helps the proletariat “and threatens the very foundations of bourgeois
society.”75 To give one weighty example: the abolition of torture, the favorite
feudal and Church tool against rebelling lower classes, was the crown jewel
of Enlightenment and bourgeois liberalism; it is now taken back.76 Rewinding
history à rebours, the revolutionary and liberatory citoyen (citizen) aspect is
being thoroughly expunged. The result is the relentless deepening and broad-
ening of the “zone of non-being” identified by Fanon for the racialized and
colonialized subject.77 As Le Guin’s protagonist in The Dispossessed, to my
mind the best piece of utopian writing since Wells, if not More and Swift,
tells the ambassador from a totally anti-utopian Terra: “You would destroy us
rather than admit our reality, rather than admit that there is hope!”78
Notes
My warmest thanks for indispensable bibliographic guidance go to Lyman T. Sargent and
Tom Moylan; for clarifying discussions and sending me their works to Fredric Jameson
and the first two names, without whom part 3 could not have been written; last not least,
to Raffaella Baccolini, Antonis Balasopulos, John Clute, Zorica Đergović-Joksimović,
Peter Fitting, Saša Hrnjez, Richard Ohmann, Patrick Parrinder, Tamara Prošić, Bülent
Somay, Victor Strazzeri, Pavla Vesela, Darren Webb, and Phil Wegner. I couldn’t have
done this without the kind and efficient help of the Clare College and Cambridge
University Library staff, also of Jake Culank from Cambridge. For the invitation to
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deliver the keynote speech at the Utopian Studies Society in Prato 2019 and much
friendly help my thanks go to Andrew Milner. The editor of the journal thanks Chelsea
Haith, University of Oxford, for her editorial work on this keynote speech.
Epigraphs: Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, On the Advantage and Disadvantage of History
for Life (1874), trans. and with an introduction by Peter Preuss (Indianapolis, IN: Hackett,
1980), 8; lines from Johann Ludwig Uhland’s “Frühlingsglaube,” trans. Richard Wigmore
as “Faith in Spring,” https://www.oxfordlieder.co.uk/song/1541#:~:text=Nun%20
muss%20sich%20Alles%2C%20Alles,Das%20Bl%C3%BChen%20will%20nicht%20enden
(accessed June 3, 2020).
1. Adrienne Rich, cited in Angelika Bammer, Partial Visions: Feminism and Utopianism in
the 1970s (New York: Routledge, 2015), 52. Emphasis by Bammer.
2. I read China Miéville’s article “The Limits of Utopia” culpably late, but entirely
agree with most of his article (except the final reflections on what to do about it). He
rightly points out that “the very term ‘Anthropocene,’ which gives with one hand,
insisting on human drivers of ecological shift, misleads with its implied ‘We.’ After all,
[what warranted] a new geochronological term [was] a shift in the political economy by
which it and we are organised, an accelerating cycle of profit and accumulation. . . .
Which means . . . standing directly against military power and violence. Three times
as many land-rights and environmental activists were murdered in 2012 than a decade
before,” and he points to Jason W. Moore’s 2017 coinage of the term “capitalocene.”
China Miéville, “The Limits of Utopia,” Salvage, August 1, 2015, https://salvage.zone/
in-print/the-limits-of-utopia/ (accessed June 3, 2020); Jason W. Moore, ed., Anthropocene or
Capitalocene?: Nature, History, and the Crisis of Capitalism (Oakland, CA: PM Press, 2016).
3. Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Werner S. Pluhar, abridged with
introduction by Eric Watkins (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1999), 209.
4. John Donne, John Donne: Selections from Divine Poems, Sermons, Devotions, and Prayers
(Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1990), 58.
5. John Bellamy Foster, Robert W. McChesney, and R. Jamil Jonna, “The Global
Reserve Army of Labor and the New Imperialism,” Monthly Review, November 1, 2011,
https://monthlyreview.org/2011/11/01/the-global-reserve-army-of-labor-and-the-new-
imperialism/ (accessed June 3, 2020); Thomas Pogge, World Poverty and Human Rights
(Cambridge: Polity Press, 2008); Rob Nixon, Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the
Poor (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2011).
6. Darko Suvin, “To Explain Fascism Today,” Critique 45, no. 3 (2017): 259–302; Darko
Suvin, In Leviathan’s Belly: Essays for a Counter-Revolutionary Time (Cabin John, MD:
Wildside Press, 2012).
7. John Bellamy Foster, Naked Imperialism: The US Pursuit of Global Dominance (New
York: Monthly Review Press, 2006).
8. Subcomandante Marcos, The Zapatistas’ Dignified Rage: Final Public Speeches of the
Subcommander Marcos, trans. H. Gales, ed. N. Henck (Chico, CA: AK Press, 2018).
9. Karl Marx, Grundrisse: Foundations of Political Economy (Rough Draft) (New York:
Penguin in association with New Left Review, 1993), v; Stuart C. Aitken and Gill
Valentine, eds., Approaches to Human Geography: Philosophies, Theories, People and Practices
(London: SAGE, 2014).
29
30
King’s I Have a Dream speech while view[ing] photographs and artifacts from the Civil
Rights Movement.”
My answer is that as a critic and scholar I am not at all interested in an author’s -- or
a group of curators’ – intent or personal belief; that is the business of their friends and
relatives (or political friends and enemies). I am interested exclusively in what is actually
written or presented for others to see – on the effect of any work on its consumers. To
understand this, one must know first, what was being presented, and second, what that
presentation strongly implies in semantic terms. Thus I do not wish to proceed further
with Jacoby’s take, which was not clearly phrased, but to take direct responsibility in the
matter. This necessarily involves being longer -- apologies. However, please remember
that my paragraph begins by saying that it seems clear to me “there are no utopian
studies without values.” What is at stake here is first of all axiological: can scholarship
be without values, which turns it into a pure affirmation of the status quo? Not to my
mind. But secondly, more deeply, it is also epistemological: how can we have a unified
field of studies if it is unlimited, and anybody can put into it whatever he or she pleases?
The answer is, I’m afraid, no how – not a valid field of studies, anyway, either in terms of
intellectual success or of categorical clarity or of professional and civic ethics.
20. Oral source.
21. Bernard Crick, George Orwell: A Life (London: Penguin, 1982), 20.
22. Darren Webb, “Educational Studies and the Domestication of Utopia,” British
Journal of Educational Studies 64, no. 4 (2016): 431–48.
23. Phillip E. Wegner, “Jameson’s Modernisms; Or, the Desire Called Utopia,” Diacritics
37, no. 4 (2007): 3–20; Frederic Jameson, Archaeologies of the Future: The Desire Called Utopia
and Other Science Fictions (London: Verso, 2005), 202.
24. See Webb, “Educational Studies and the Domestication of Utopia,” 431–48.
25. Richard Strier, “Taking Utopia Seriously,” Moreana 54, no. 2 (2017): 141–48.
26. See Suvin, “To Explain Fascism Today.”
27. Adorno, in conversation with Bloch, quoted in Maggie O’Neill, Adorno, Culture and
Feminism (London: Sage, 1999).
28. The works can be found on my sites www.darkosuvin.com and https://
independent.academia.edu/DarkoSuvin/Papers under the rubric Epistemology.
29. Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, Il Gattopardo (1958), 1st ed. (Milan: Feltrinello,
2004).
30. Darko Suvin, “Two Cheers for Essentialism and Totality: On Marx’s Oscillation and
Its Limits (As Well as on the Taboos of Post-Modernism),” Rethinking Marxism 10, no. 1
(1998): 66–82.
31. Mao Zedong, On Contradiction (Peking: Foreign Languages Press, 1952).
32. Noam Chomsky, Rules and Representations (Oxford: Blackwell, 1980).
33. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power (1901; London: Penguin, 2016), 960.
34. Bruno referenced in Dark Horizons: Science Fiction and the Utopian Imagination, ed.
Tom Moylan and Raffaela Baccolini (New York: Routledge, 2013), 191.
35. Bertolt Brecht, The Caucasian Chalk Circle, trans. Frank McGuiness (London:
Bloomsbury, 2014).
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36. Plato, The Republic of Plato, ed. James Adam (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1902); Tommaso Campanella, The City of the Sun, ed. A. M. Elliot and R. Millner
(London: Journeyman, 1981).
37. Frederic Jameson, “The Politics of Utopia,” New Left Review, January 25, 2004,
https://newleftreview.org/issues/II25/articles/fredric-jameson-the-politics-of-utopia
(accessed June 3, 2020).
38. Ruth A. Levitas, “The Imaginary Reconstitution of Society,” in Utopia as Method:
The Imaginary Reconstitution of Society, ed. Tom Moylan and Raffella Baccolini (London:
Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), 48.
39. The full survey that Lyman Tower Sargent insists upon in “Utopia—The Problem
of Definition,” Extrapolation 16, no. 2 (1975): 140–41.
40. William Morris, News from Nowhere (1890), introduction by Rowan Williams
(London: Thames and Hudson, in association with the Victoria & Albert Museum, 2017).
41. Slavoj Zizek, cited in Lucy Sargisson, Fool’s Gold: Utopianism in the Twenty-First
Century (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012), 32.
42. Darko Suvin, “Locus, Horizon and Orientation,” in Suvin, Defined by a Hollow:
Essays on Utopia, Science Fiction and Political Epistemology (New York: Peter Lang, 2010), 120;
Suvin, Metamorphoses of Science Fiction (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1979), 51.
43. Jameson, Archaeologies of the Future, 5.
44. Tom Moylan, “Transgressive, Totalizing, Transformative: Utopia’s Utopian
Surplus,” Utopian Studies 29, no. 3 (2018): 312.
45. Jameson, Archaeologies of the Future, 38.
46. Phillip E. Wegner, Imaginary Communities (Berkeley: University of California Press,
2002), 54; Kim Stanley Robinson, Mars trilogy (Glasgow: Harper Voyager, 1992–96);
Darko Suvin, “Brecht vs. Ibsen: Breaking Open the Individualist or Closed Dramaturgy,”
in Suvin, To Brecht and Beyond (Sussex: Harvester Press, 1984), 56–79.
47. For the group of scholars, see Darko Suvin, “Introduzione sui generi letterari e la
Fantascienza,” Sincronie [Roma] no. 20 (2007): 217–27; forthcoming as “Kick Off ” in my
book Disputing the Deluge.
48. Here I part company with the inclusiveness of the most useful Sargisson, from
which I have learned a lot: for at the most, Dubai architecture, for example, can be used
as a typical component or indeed paragon of our existential anti-utopia, akin to the
Iron Heel’s super-cities in Jack London, so that calling it utopia (in either eutopian and
dystopian senses) means repeating Ernst Bloch’s major mistake, the desire to equate
utopia/nism and reality. I should add that to accept the use of “utopia” as a swearword—
as in the massive anti-Obama campaign referred to by Sargisson—is the symmetrical
obverse of accepting utopia as perfection.
49. Jameson, Archaeologies of the Future, 199.
50. Anti-utopia was brilliantly diagnosed in part 1 of Jameson’s The Seeds of Time in the
early ‘90s, but those were still early days. I note that one characteristic differentiating
anti-utopia from dystopia may well be the battle over language, memory, and expression
that usually develops in dystopia vs. the monophonic refusal of intricate contradictions in
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favor of black-and-white adversariness in Ayn Rand or, for example, on all world media.
See Rob McAlear, “The Value of Fear,” Interdisciplinary Humanities 27, no. 2 (2010): 24–42,
on how dystopia and anti-utopia share the urgency of a de facto near-future story—
whatever their ostensible spacetime—but remain incompatible because the former is
to be understood as preventable, resistance is possible even if it fails in the plot, and the
latter “seeks to shut down a discussion of alternatives” (though I should mention that he
sees hope in the Newspeak segment of 1984, where I do not).
51. Ayn Rand, Anthem (London: Cassell, 1938).
52. Tom Moylan, Scraps of the Untainted Sky, Science Fiction, Utopia, Dystopia (New York:
Avalon Publishing, 2000).
53. Lyman Tower Sargent, Utopianism: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2010), 20. For the emblematic case of Wordsworth, see the richly argued
Kantor, who finds “liberal ideology . . . a process by which we recover a way of seeing
after we have been disabused of its utopian character”; Jamison Kantor, “Immortality,
Romanticism, and the Limit of Liberal Imagination,” PMLA 133, no. 3 (2018): 517.
The Immortality Ode registers the defeat of visionary revolution and opts for
“incremental reform”: “Whither is fled the visionary gleam?/ Where is it now, the
glory and the dream?/ --- /… relinquish[ing] delight/ To live beneath your habitual
sway” (Kantor, “Immortality, Romanticism, and the Limit of Liberal Imagination,”
519). Even in this early ancestor one finds essential characteristics of liberal abstract
utopianism—order stemming out of disillusion and compensatory turn to timelessness
(in Wordsworth: nature, childhood, and deism).
Another interesting ancestor to anti-utopia, Jameson suggests in Archaeologies of
the Future, would be Samuel Delany’s Trouble on Triton, where the eponymous planetoid
harbors a plethora of changing varieties of physical appearance, gender, and sexual
orientation. It is unfortunately a much oversimplified and rather intolerant wish-
dream of homosexual and cognate gender counterculture opposed to what he wrongly
felt were Le Guin’s totalizing sociopolitical tendencies—and her foregrounding of
heterosexuality—in the “critical utopia” of The Dispossessed. On the one hand Triton deals
only with lifestyles, and one can sympathize with its quest for freedom of experiment;
on the other it presents a simple negation of however rainbow-like unity, and therefore
of positive utopianism as such, in favor of enclave diversity within a magnified version
of the 1960s New York and London yet without economics—characteristically, even
a mega-war is treated as peripheral. The undoubted verve and acuity of Delany is
therefore sectarian, choosing ephemeral and co-optable quasi-utopian enclaves—if sex
and jouissance is your utopia—within the never-shown “reigning dystopia of the system”
( Jameson, Archaeologies of the Future, 144).
54. Jacoby, Picture Imperfect, 81.
55. Darko Suvin, “Parables and Uses of a Stumbling Stone,” Arcadia 5, no. 2 (2017):
271–300.
56. Johann Gottlieb Fichte, quoted in Darko Suvin, “Lukács: Horizons and Implications
of the ‘Typical Character,’” Social Text, no. 16 (Winter 1986–87): 97–123.
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57. Sigmund Freud, “Dynamics of Transference,” in The Standard Edition of the Complete
Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, ed. James Strachey, Anna Freud and Carrie Lee
Rothgeb (London: Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-Analysis, 1953–74), 12:107.
58. Jacques Rancière, On the Shores of Politics, trans. L. Heron (London: Verso, 1995), 82.
59. Alain Badiou, “The Idea of Communism,” in The Idea of Communism, ed. Costas
Douzinas and Slavoj Žižek (London: Verso, 2010), 12.
60. Søren Baggesen, “Utopian and Dystopian Pessimism: Le Guin’s The Word for World
Is Forest and Tiptree’s ‘We Who Stole the Dream,’” Science-Fiction Studies 14, no. 1 (1987):
34–43.
61. Wendy Brown, Undoing the Demos (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2015).
62. Guy Debord, Society of the Spectacle (1967), www.marxists.org/reference/archive/
debord/society.htm (accessed November 15, 2018).
63. I came to the concept of constituted absence by being reminded of the role
of the Baroque God in Pascal and Racine, whereof Lucien Goldmann speaks in Le
Dieu caché—with thanks to Michel Loewy—or indeed of the Mbuya tribe’s father
god Ñamandu in Pierre Clastres (see my essay “Power Without Violence: A Lesson
from Tribal Communism”). This absence was in history positively sublated by the
appearance of a revolutionary wave of rich personalities like Denis Diderot, Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, or Tom Payne. Alas, the constitutive absence of value signaled by anti-utopia
is a repressed and anal-retentive obverse of the Baroque tragicalness. It flows out of
triumphant counterrevolution and it is carried by impoverished Übermenschen like Ayn
Rand and the Donalds, Rumsfeld and Trump. The return from bourgeois democracy
to a semi-masked (and often open) bourgeois tyranny adds to cynicism and it is also a
confession of weakness: as Marx noted in the 18th Brumaire, true or plebeian democracy
would work against capitalism.
64. John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667), ed. Alastair Fowler, introduction by Michael
Prodger (London: Folio Society, 2015), 1:63.
65. Michel Foucault, Naissance de la biopolitique (1979), ed. M. Senellart (Paris: Gallimard,
2004), 98.
66. Wegner, Imaginary Communities, 121–28.
67. Jacques Rancière, Hatred of Democracy, trans. S. Corcoran (London: Verso, 2014), 95.
68. Foucault, Naissance de la biopolitique, 249, 252, and 272.
69. Emily Apter, “Untranslatability and the Geopolitics of Reading,” PMLA 134, no. 1
(2019): 195.
70. Matthew 23:27, King James Bible.
71. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, K. Marx and F. Engels on Colonialism (Moscow:
Foreign Languages Pub. House, 1959), 88.
72. See Wegner’s essay, “Jameson’s Modernisms; or, the Desire Called Utopia,”
Diacritics 37, no. 4 (2007): 2–20. I have been much stimulated by Jameson’s chapter
“Journey into Fear” and the general horizon of Archaeologies of the Future.
73. Pedrag Matvejević, “Levantine Legends and Histories of Bread,” in Our Daily Bread
(Kruh naš), trans. Russell Scott Valentino (Zagreb: Ambrozija, 2009).
74. Ernst Bloch, Das Prinzip Hoffnung, 2 vols. (Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1959), 10, 83, 126.
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75. Karl Marx, “Class Struggles in France, 1848 to 1850,” first published 1850, www.
marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1850/class-struggles-france/ch02.htm (accessed
November 15, 2018).
76. Eric Hobsbawm, “Public Order in an Age of Violence,” in Hobsbawm, Globalisation,
Democracy and Terrorism (Boston: Little, Brown, 2008), 138–54.
77. Frantz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks, trans. C. L. Markmann (New York: Grove,
1967), 7.
78. Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed (New York: Harper Prism, 1994), 350.
35