Category / Utopianism

by doctormcgrail

Utopia Lost in Language: Rethinking the Politics of Possibility

What if utopia isn’t a perfect place—but a way of thinking and acting, in common?

For many people, the word “utopia” conjures images of unrealistic fantasies, naïve idealism, or even dangerous political experiments gone wrong. In everyday conversation, it often means something impossible: a dream that can’t be realised. But this understanding is deeply misleading—and more importantly, it limits our political imagination at a time when we need it most.

Rather than being a fixed blueprint for a perfect society, utopia can be understood as a political technique and a shared language for exploring social possibilities. Utopia is not simply a destination; it is an activity. It lives in how we imagine, question, critique, and attempt to transform the world around us.

Utopia as Practice, Not Blueprint

The problem begins when utopia is reduced to a picture: a finished model of “the good society.” These static visions—whether architectural masterplans or literary dream worlds—tend to close down discussion rather than open it up. They present a completed answer rather than an ongoing process.

But utopia, at its most powerful, is something else entirely. It is what happens when people begin to ask: what could be different? It is the act of imagining alternatives and bringing those imaginings into public conversation. In that sense, utopia is always grounded in the present. It is something we do, not something that is only dreamt about. Crucially, utopia does not fail because people imagine too much, as anti-utopians (like Gray, 2007) claim. It fails when imagination is suppressed—when social conditions discourage some people from thinking beyond what already exists. The real danger is not utopian dreaming, but absence of it.

The Problem with How We Talk About Utopia

Part of the difficulty lies in language. We often talk about utopia in ways that create confusion or shut down debate. For instance, utopia is frequently treated as synonymous with a “perfect world.” This conflation ignores the richness of utopian thinking and reduces it to a narrow ideal. Similarly, the common opposition between “utopia” (good) and “dystopia” (bad) oversimplifies matters. It suggests that utopian thinking is naïvely optimistic, while dystopian thinking is realistic or critical.

In reality, both are part of the same process. Dystopias are not anti-utopian—they are warnings, critiques, and provocations. They show us what could go wrong, often in order to spur us into action. Likewise, many so-called utopias contain elements that are troubling or exclusionary. Even the term “apocalypse” is misunderstood. Commonly associated with destruction, it simply means “revelation.” Apocalyptic thinking can reveal hidden truths about society and provoke transformative change. If we want better conversations about society and its future, we need a more flexible and inclusive language of utopia—one that reflects its diversity and its role as a tool for inquiry.

A Broader View: Utopia as an Umbrella Concept

Instead of treating utopia as a single idea, I consider it as an umbrella term covering many different kinds of imaginative activity. Under this umbrella, I include:

  • Eutopias: visions of better (‘good’) societies
  • Dystopias: warnings about impaired or failing worlds
  • Arcadias: nostalgic longings for a lost past
  • Apocalyptias: visions of transformation or revelation

Each of these expresses a different relationship to time—past, present, or future—but all are rooted in the present moment of imagination and action, in the Utopian thinker. This broader approach allows us to see utopian thinking everywhere: in political movements, philosophical arguments, cultural narratives, and everyday moral decisions.

The Utopian Imagination in Action

One of the most important aspects of utopian thinking is its connection to imagination. This is not just about fantasy; it is about the ability to place ourselves in different situations and perspectives.

Adam Smith (1759), for instance, argued that we make moral judgments through “indirect sympathy” (VII. iii. I. 3)—our capacity to imagine what it feels like to be someone else. This imaginative leap allows us to evaluate social arrangements, even those we have never experienced. To judge something like private property, we need the capacity to imagine a world where private property doesn’t exist. That “no place” (or not yet) is precisely where utopia operates: as a space of critical reflection. In this sense, utopia is not escapism. It is a method for understanding the present by imagining alternatives.

Is Dystopia Really So Bad?

If we rethink utopia in this broader sense, the boundary between utopia and dystopia starts to blur. Take dystopian fiction (a la Huxley and Orwell). These narratives often depict bleak or oppressive worlds—but they also rely on imagination, critique, and the possibility of change. In fact, dystopias can be powerful tools for political engagement, forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths and consider how things might be different (new possibilities).

Even the idea of a “perfect” society can be troubling (see Zamyatin’s [1924] We). A society that eliminates imagination or dissent in the name of stability risks becoming stagnant or oppressive. In this context, a flawed, changing world may be preferable to a static “perfect” one. This raises an important question: is it better to live in an imperfect world where change is possible, or a perfect one where nothing can ever change?

When Utopia Becomes Stagnation

A key danger arises when a utopian vision becomes fixed—what we might call an “autotopia,” a system that simply reproduces itself endlessly. In such a world, imagination is seen as a threat (as with Zamyatin’s OneState). Stability becomes the highest value, and any deviation must be suppressed. This can happen in political systems, economic structures, educational practices, or even cultural norms.

The irony is that a “perfect” system can become lifeless. Without the possibility of change, critique, or innovation, it loses the very qualities that make social life dynamic and meaningful. Human beings are not like machines that can simply repeat the same patterns indefinitely. We are imaginative, questioning, and creative—and any society that ignores this, risks becoming deeply alienating.

Utopia and Capitalism

Utopian thinking is not limited to radical or revolutionary ideas. It also operates within and reproduces existing systems, including capitalism. Karl Marx’s (1867) description of the capitalist marketplace (at the beginning of Capital), for example, can be read as a form of utopia: a world of perfect equality, where individuals freely exchange goods and “mutually recognise” (Chp2) each other’s rights. This “ideal” (abstracted) version of capitalism purposely strips away real historical social inequalities like slavery, xenophobia, racism, or sexism—it is a theoretical version of how capitalism could / should work.

Of course, Marx’s point was that even with this idealised scenario (a vision reformers strive for), exploitation persists (see Bonefeld, 2023). The system still depends on unequal outcomes, despite its language of fairness and equality. This demonstrates how utopian thinking can be used critically. By imagining a system in its purest form (not its contaminated reality), Marx exposes its contradictions and limitations.

At the same time, this exposition (process) highlights how defenders of capitalism rely on utopian ideas—promoting visions of innovation, growth, and progress. Utopia, then, is not owned by any one ideology. It is a shared tool, open to all. Utopia is a process we all take a ‘risk’ in promoting.

Why Utopia Matters Today

We live in a time when utopia is often dismissed as unrealistic or dangerous. But this dismissal has consequences. Without utopian thinking, we run the alternate risk of accepting the status quo as inevitable. We lose the ability to imagine alternatives, to critique existing systems, and to strive for something better. Thus, utopia, understood as a technique and a language, is essential for democratic life. It allows us to explore possibilities, challenge assumptions, and engage collectively in shaping the future. Importantly, this is not the task of a select few (e.g., the utopian ‘novelist’). Utopian thinking should not be confined to writers, philosophers, or political leaders. It should be communalised: open to everyone.

Reclaiming the Language of Possibility

In conclusion, if utopia has been “lost” it is not because the idea itself has failed. It is because our language around it has become restrictive and confused. To reclaim utopia, we need to broaden how we talk about it. There is a need to recognise its diversity, its flexibility, and its presence in everyday life.

Above all, we need to see utopia not as a distant dream, but as an ongoing practice—a way of engaging with the world and imagining how it could be different. Because the future is not something that simply happens to us. It is something we create. And utopia, in all its forms, is the language through which that creation begins.

References:

Bonefeld, W. (2023) A Critical Theory of Economic Compulsion: Wealth, Suffering, Negation London: Routledge.

Gray, J. (2007) Black Mass: Apocalyptic Religion and the Death of Utopia. London: Macmillan.

Marx, K. (1867) Capital: A Critique of Political Economy. Vol. 1. Pelican Library. [1976 edition; trans. Ben Fowkes]. Harmondsworth: Penguin.

Smith, A. (1759) Theory of Moral Sentiments. [2012 edition; edited by Knud Haakonssen]. Cambridge Texts in the Philosophy of History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Zamyatin, E. (1924) We. [1993 edition; translated by Clarence Brown]. Harmondsworth: Penguin.

Links:

This is a shortened (blog style) article of a 6,000-word essay with the same argument (fully referenced with direct quotations).  This longer version can be found at:

McGrail, B. A. (2026) Utopia Lost (in Language): Rethinking Utopia and the Politics of Possibility [PDF] (14 pages / 28 minute read). Available at: Utopia Lost (In Language): Rethinking Utopia and the Politics of Possibility

Acknowledgments:

An earlier (2024) version of this blog (and essay) was written in response to (and participant / presenter in) the Arts & Humanities Research Council (ARHC) funded Workshop Series on Utopia and Failure, organised and led by Prof. Mathias Thaler (Edinburgh), Prof. Davina Cooper (KCL), and Dr Ruth Houghton (Newcastle). I received essential and supportive feedback from Mathias, Davina, and Ruth, to whom I would like to express my gratitude.  The usual disclaimers apply.

by doctormcgrail

Racism and Fire: Capitalism’s Role in the Persistence of Race

October is Black History Month, and both of my institutional employers have emailed me with offers of Equality, Diversity and Inclusion (EDI) training as part of Continuing Professional Development (CPD), though not mandatory sessions.

Edinburgh University led the way (1st October) by presenting a one-hour workshop on a range of different groups and activities undertaking anti-racism activities (including profile-raising of minority staff networks, provision of links with outside bodies, and highlights on race education projects). Each presenter had about 10 minutes to outline (pitch) what their organisation was doing (and where it could be found).

At the end, the organisers struggled to get the question and answer (Q&A) session going, with no questions coming forward until one presenter felt duty-bound to ask something (of another presenter). This outcome was not due to lack of interest on behalf of the audience (being ‘self-selecting’, they were the ‘converted’). Rather, it was hard to think of ‘questions’ (to get a ‘discussion’ going) from such a factual presentation. What is there to disagree about?

The Open University offer was much more assertive in indicating that people will learn how to challenge their “white privilege” (by becoming aware of it) and, therein, an effective “ally” (who knows how to support people suffering racism and not how to ‘take over’ as a ‘white saviour’). At least this kind of anti-racism work allows more space for people to get into a debate. However, a general feeling of discomfort (about questioning the presented narrative) still pervades what is a workplace ‘instituted’ conversation, such that no-one is really going to challenge the expert anti-racist presenters / session leads.

The positive I take from such employer sanctioned events is that it is good to see the issue of racism being taken seriously, and provisioned with staff time (for those who choose to attend) by my employers. However, what makes me ‘chortle’ is the thought that I might now sit and wait for an email ‘ping’ to announce the equivalent EDI session on ‘The Exploitative Nature of Waged-Employment: Anti-work Initiatives’! Somehow, I can’t see that happening anytime (not even soon), within the ‘employer-employee’ environment. Yet, in anti-racism work, is it not important to investigate and explore the relationship between ‘the social construction of race’ and ‘the mode of production’ which gave rise to modern racism?

The Exploitative Source of Racism

Eric Williams, in Capitalism and Slavery (1944 – developed from his PhD research), observed that it was not racism that gave rise to the Atlantic slave trade. Rather, it was slavery which gave, and continues to give, substance to racism. On the basis of this thesis, whenever we see the smoke of racism rising it is incumbent upon us to look for the fire (the source of the smoke), or at least ask: ‘where is the smoke coming from?’ That is, we should ask ‘where is the slavery?’

To be clear, ‘smoke kills’ – it is not just a ‘signal’ meaning it can be ignored in order to shift ‘analysis’ elsewhere. But Williams’ point highlights that racism is not an ‘autoimmune disease’. It does not ‘seed itself’ in a vacuum, and has a cause (both a ground which it grows out of, and a ‘sense of progression’, or history, of which it is a part – everyone appears to be going ‘somewhere’ for some ‘reason’).

With the Atlantic slave trade, the exploitative source of the racism was ‘obvious’ – the system relied on one person being ‘enslaved’ in order to ‘serve’ another. And whilst Europeans in America initially took ‘white slaves’ (indentured poor, criminals, and vagabonds, even prisoners of war) with them (alongside a highly-oppressed population-half: women), the situation with rapid capital accumulation (the need to accumulate workers as ‘things’) meant there was soon a ‘lack’ of available people. This led to transportation from Africa to fulfil the ‘gap’. Initially, white and black slaves co-existed, even if unequally, but the ‘need’ (requirement) to categorise more and more individuals as ‘slaves’ eventually led to entire ‘groups’ of people taking on different roles in this system’s division of labour. Thus, skin-colour (being ‘black’) took on its slave-defining role.

But what about today’s voluntaristic, liberalised economies where chattel slavery (now in the form of ‘human trafficking’) has been pushed to the margins of ‘the economy’? Whilst there may be 26 million trafficked people (modern slaves) in the world today, this makes up a tiny proportion of the 6+ billion people surviving as ‘wage labourers’. So, why is racism still so widespread?

One answer, from Marx (1894), is that capitalism (in essence waged-labour, because this is the source of ‘profit’) is nothing other than “veiled slavery”! Consequently, following Marx’s assertion, Williams’ thesis holds true, with the persistence of racism (in its different forms: open, unconscious, institutionalised) being built upon the on-going existence of compulsory labour – forced not by the whip-hand but by the invisible-hand of ‘economic conditions’ (the primary condition, for most, being their propertylessness).

Indeed, in today’s contemporary corporate world, racism’s fundamental form is still the ‘reservation‘. On the one hand, there are those ‘reservoirs‘ of cheap labour ‘politically’ confined by ‘citizenship’ (or lack of it) to conditions maintained under brutal undemocratic regimes – a 21st century version of globalised apartheid with ranks of ‘nation states’ determining the extent to which an area of land mass is classified as totally useless (the ‘useless mouths’ of Afghanistan / Somalia / South Sudan) versus ripe for exploitation (Philippines / Nigeria / Bolivia).

On the other hand, there are those places were the very best (well-paid / good working condition) jobs, access to the required education, facilitation by the most ‘labour enhancing’ technologies, and consumption of advanced healthcare are ‘reserved‘ for people with specific ‘characteristics’ (including ‘citizenship’).

Taken together, these different symbiotic and bifurcated spatial reservations form a hierarchy in which skin-colour still plays a fundamental refining mechanism for the ‘underlying’ system of exploitation (capital accumulation through waged-labour). Though, in theory – and in terms of progressivist political myth-making about possible ‘futures’ liberated from race and racialism – a few ‘individuals’ are able to move from marginalised reservoirs to the lands of exclusively ‘reserved’ jobs. Such social mobility gives the impetus to much (but not all) anti-racism work within the world of corporate and institutional employers – whilst, of course, the central mechanisms of waged-labour exploitation remain untouched.

Is the Dream of Corporate Anti-racism possible?

Interestingly, with reference to Afrofuturist writing, Alex Zamalin (2025) points to one dystopian novel in which the imagined society had, finally, managed to expunge Black people, thereby producing a purified world. This is a different version of reaching a state of ‘colour-blindness’ compared to the corporate eutopia (good place). It is touching on the ‘completion’ scenario of the Nazi ‘Final Solution’ of a Jew-free Reich. But the novel is really raising the question that, if such a Nazi utopia ever ‘worked’, would the waged-labour mode of production have been maintained?

In the novel’s Black-free society, racism soon begins to re-emerge in a new form. Someone is (some ‘bodies’ are) always required to do the menial, bottom-of-the-rung jobs in any ‘exchangeable labour’ society and, consequently, the roaming, roving eyes of a surveyor class (whoever they might happen to be) begin to look for anyone who is ruddier or slightly ‘more pink’ than ‘everyone else’. Thus, a new ‘norm’ or ‘average’ is generated from which social categories (by skin, sex, height, voice-box) will ‘form’. In short, and in line with what I argue here, the categorisation process is being driven by the needs of ‘the economy’ and its forced / compelled ‘division of labour‘.

It is the social essence of capitalism’s reproductive structure (that there is a hierarchy based on ‘exchangeable labour‘) which determines the requirement for different social categories of labourers. But a ‘reason’ or justification must be given for the ordering of society (i.e., in the above dystopian society ‘you are overly pink’, though the same distinction could be based just as easily on eye-colour). The ‘passion’ (behind the reasoning) is more consistent and practical in its desire to make extractive exploitation feasible and sustainable (since this exploitation is the very means of survival for those ‘empowered’ but ‘reliant’ groups who eternally seek the social transfer of resources from person X – the ‘enslaved’ – to person Y – ‘the masters of money’).

References:

Marx, K. (1894) Capital: A Critique of Political Economy – Volume 3. [Edited by F. Engels / trans. by D. Fernbach (c) 1991]. London: Penguin.

Williams, E. (1944) Capitalism & Slavery. [Penguin Classics / 1994 imprint]. London: Penguin Random House UK.

Zamalin, A. (2025) ‘The Future of Afrofuturism: Thinking with Afrofuturism’ [Workshop Paper]. Part of Panel 3: Revisiting Utopianism from other critical and radical perspectives. AHRC Workshop 3 of Utopia & Failure: ‘Fail Again, Fail Better! Held at: King’s College London (Mon 8th and Tues 9th Sept).

by doctormcgrail

History produces nothing but Barbarism

In a recent video interview for publisher Unherd, Yanis Varoufakis asked the question: “Why is the Left the loser of history?’ He went on to argue that the Left failed to “take its opportunity” in the wake of the crisis of capitalism in 2008. Consequently, the ground remained wide-open, only to be filled by the politics of the Far Right.

Of course, since the Left failed in its historic duty to take up the reigns of ‘power’, it has the unenviable position of remaining religiously pure and untainted as the rightful and righteous outcome of ‘history’. It can live for another day, though such a position leads to the inevitable question, given there are ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ sides of history, of ‘why, so far, has the Right always ended up as the victor of history?’

There is a deeper question here: ‘What is history?’

To ‘Left revolutionaries’, Rosa Luxembourg is famous for stating that ‘the’ class struggle will end in either “Socialism or Barbarism”. The openness of the ‘choice’ with which she confronted her comrades indicates Luxembourg did not see ‘socialism’ as an automatic outcome of the ‘historical process’. But her statement does leave two interpretations: (1) that ‘socialism’ is one possible outcome of ‘the historical process’ (for Varoufakis, socialism can be ‘the victor’), and, alternately, (2) that human action – struggle – is the means by which to avoid the inevitable barbarism that ‘the historical process’ will produce (so, ‘socialism’ can never be ‘the victor’ of a socio-historical process humanity must struggle against).

Following the latter interpretation, a key question is ‘what form should the required struggle take?’ Well, aiming to take up the reigns of political ‘power’ (electoral politics; state capture, Social Democracy, Democratic Socialism, Bolshevism, Leninism, Trotskyism, Maoism, Black Power, and Matriarchy) has been tried on numerous occasions. Luxembourg was murdered in 1919, so didn’t live to see the historical outcome of ‘actually existing socialism’.

That is, Varoufakis, no matter how he, himself, sees the world, or understands contemporary ‘history’, needs to deal with the fact that for many people, in certain places and times, socialism has been ‘the victor of history’ and has done nothing but produce barbarism. When socialism has been ‘the victor of history’ then, to change Luxembourg’s quotation: Socialism becomes Barbarism! To the ‘victors’ the spoils.

What has Varoufakis missed?

Varoufakis clearly understands ‘socialism’ to be part and parcel of the historical process – it is a component of the current system which can ‘guide’ history towards a positive outcome. This ‘positivity’ is a theoretical descendant of early utopian socialists (heavily criticised by Marx) such as John Bray and Proudhon – who believed in nationalised banks and ‘fair’ labour exchanges on the basis (as Bonefeld, 2023 puts it) that they could get rid of ‘the capitalist’ but keep ‘capital’ (i.e., the waged labour relationship or social form).

Incidentally, I find Varoufakis’ coining of the ‘concept’ technofeudalism very confusing – a jumble of definitions and meanings. By ‘feudalism’ he appears to serfdom (in a similar way as Hayek referred to ‘The Road to Serfdom’). But this forgets that the tech-bros’ goal is to produce ‘surplus value’ and NOT garner tribune (rents/taxes) under a system of ‘extra-economic’ devine-rights (imposed by ‘direct’ violence). In short, Greece had a Finance Minister who never really understood ‘capitalism’ (conceptually nor practically).

I surmise that Varoufakis has never read the Frankfurt School Critical Theorists (Benjamin, Horkheimer, Adorno), or, if he has, he hasn’t understood them. Benjamin’s Theses on the Philosophy of History reminds us that the point of history is to break with it, not “swim” with its tide. Rather, the struggle is to bring the historical process to a ‘stop’ (to serve the needs of the present) and not drive history to its ‘completion’ (towards some Messianic ‘vision’). Adorno brilliantly sums the same point up: “There is a history which leads from the slingshot to the atom bomb, but not one that goes from barbarism to humanity”.

History is on the wrong side of class struggle – it is a process which runs against the presently-existing needs of humanity. Rather, history (the perpetuation of tradition) is an accumulating “nightmare” which weighs heavily on the “brains of the living” (Marx from 18th Brumaire), compelling them forward on grounds of ‘lack of alternative’. The struggle is to wake up and leave the nightmare; not stay in it to find out who will be ‘victors’. If we stay in it (do not wake up) and keep ‘falling’, then the urban myth tells us there will be just one outcome: Thump!

Notes: The featured image is from a photo of holiday postcards I took in a museum – I’ve entitled it ‘History Sails Forward’. It’s an image captured from ‘the past’, held within a time-capsule.

References:

Bonefeld, W. (2023) A Critical Theory of Economic Compulsion: Wealth, Suffering, Negation London: Routledge.