Saving Utopia: A Critical Examination of Hope in Dystopian Times
Loughborough University research fellow Joe P. L. Davidson’s Saving Utopia: Imagining Hopeful Futures in Dystopian Times offers a compelling, albeit contentious, exploration into the enduring relevance of utopian thought in an era often characterized by pessimism. The book challenges the prevailing narrative that utopianism and utopian fiction have all but vanished, arguing instead for their persistent, vital role in articulating societal criticisms and human aspirations for a better world. However, as one critical appraisal suggests, Davidson’s work, while undeniably insightful in its historical and definitional rigor, grapples with fundamental weaknesses rooted in its underlying intellectual framework, particularly its reliance on an "anti-utopian postmodernism" that may inadvertently reinforce the very narratives it seeks to dismantle.
Reimagining Hope in Dystopian Times: Davidson’s Core Thesis
Davidson’s Saving Utopia immediately captures attention with its provocative title, hinting at a rescue mission for a concept often deemed obsolete. He establishes a robust definition of utopian fiction as narratives that "constructs a society that is both radically other and significantly better than the world of the present," with the crucial caveat that such worlds are not products of supernatural forces but rather foreground "sociopolitical structures" (p. 14). This distinction is vital, separating the aspirational yet grounded from mythical paradises.
The author champions the utility of utopia, and its fictional manifestations, as essential tools for both criticizing the existing world and articulating humanity’s inherent desires for improvement. He favorably quotes Oscar Wilde’s famous remark about the value of any map that includes "utopia" on it, underscoring the idea that the pursuit of ideal societies, even if never fully realized, is a necessary intellectual and moral exercise.
Yet, the book’s title itself, implying utopia’s "need" for saving, acknowledges a widespread perception of utopian thinking’s decline. Davidson directly confronts the question: "Why is it so difficult for writers to articulate visions of new and better worlds?" (p. 2). His subsequent analysis, while lauded for its definitional clarity and historical scope, embarks on a path that ultimately invites significant critical scrutiny.
The Temporalization of Utopia: A Historical Arc
Davidson initiates his argument on solid ground, tracing the modern tradition of fictional utopias. He deftly incorporates the counter-tradition of anti-utopias and dystopias, which, conversely, present societies that are "radically other and significantly worse." This comprehensive historical overview draws heavily on Reinhart Koselleck’s theorizing on "modern time consciousness" (or "modern time regime"). This eighteenth-century shift, Koselleck argues, transformed the perception of time from pre-modern notions of "sameness" or "repetition" to a linear progression marked by "difference and novelty" (p. 119).
From "Elsewhere" to "Elsewhen": The Shift in Utopian Imagination
This nascent linearity, difference, and novelty birthed the possibility of "progressive development" and, crucially, "a strong association between the future, novelty, and betterment" (p. 30). This era solidified the belief that "a better future is written into the present" (p. 41)—in essence, the modern concept of "progress."
Consequently, where earlier utopian writers, like Thomas More in his seminal Utopia (1516), geographically located their imaginary societies "elsewhere" in the world, the eighteenth century witnessed a profound shift. Authors began to situate their ideal societies "elsewhen," imagining their own societies transformed into "radically other and significantly better" versions at a future date. This "temporalization" of the previously "spatial" utopia is exemplified by works such as Edward Bellamy’s Looking Backward: 2000-1887 (1888) and William Morris’s News From Nowhere (1890). This temporal shift also applied to the burgeoning counter-tradition, with anti-utopias and dystopias, such as George Orwell’s then far-future Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), also becoming future-set.
Catastrophe and the Collapse of Progress
Davidson argues that this temporalization rendered utopia vulnerable. Any threat to the association of "the future, novelty and betterment" would undermine utopian potential. He dismisses the notion that the paucity of utopianism today is merely due to anti-utopians "succeeding" (p. 29), suggesting instead that anti-utopianism plays a secondary, reinforcing role. The true "culprit," he contends, lies in "the catastrophes of the first half of the [twentieth] century" (p. 8), specifically citing "the industrial slaughter of World War I, the degeneration of the Russian Revolution, the Holocaust, and … the nuclear bomb" (p. 41). These events, in Davidson’s analysis, precipitated the collapse of the modern time regime and, with it, the hope of progress. While dystopia also suffered, it endured far more prolifically in a world where hope for betterment waned but fears of things worsening persisted, evident in the popularity of works like The Hunger Games series (2008-2025).
Adapting to the Dystopian Age: Critical Utopia and Hidden Impulses
Despite this perceived collapse, Davidson suggests that utopian impulses did not simply disappear but adapted. He introduces the concept of "anti-dystopia," which "sidesteps" prevailing "visions of horror" (p. 68) to continue utopian exploration, seemingly disregarding claims of modern time consciousness’s demise. More extensively, he delves into what he, following Tom Moylan and Raffaella Baccolini, terms the "critical utopia." This form, in contrast to the "well worked-out ‘world that works’" of older utopias like Bellamy’s and Morris’s, presents a "radically better" society that is still a "work in progress," "open" and evolving rather than "final" and "closed" (p. 63). These worlds, famously exemplified by Ursula K. LeGuin’s The Dispossessed (1974), subtitled An Ambiguous Utopia, openly acknowledge their inherent problems and contradictions. However, Davidson notes that even critical utopias have become less common since their brief efflorescence in the 1970s, implying their analytical value for his purposes is limited despite acknowledging contemporary works like Kim Stanley Robinson’s Mars cycle (1992-1999).
Instead, Davidson focuses on the unexpected emergence of utopian impulses in other literary forms. His final three chapters explore these manifestations in explorations of trauma (the past’s burden informing a desire for a better future), nostalgia (looking back to periods of greater perceived progressive possibility), and catastrophism (where "radical breach with the world as it exists" becomes "the condition for the positive configuration of a new society" (p. 154)). He examines Afrofuturist fiction, such as Cebo Campbell’s Sky Full of Elephants (2024), for trauma; feminist science fiction like Sandra Newman’s The Men (2022) for nostalgia; and climate fiction like Robinson’s The Ministry for the Future (2020) for catastrophism.
A Critical Lens on Historical Narratives: The Reviewer’s Challenge
Davidson’s attentiveness to definitions and history, coupled with a broad knowledge of the genre, equips him with a nuanced understanding of utopia. His discussions on the temporalization of utopia, the dialectical interplay between utopia and anti-utopia/dystopia, and the endurance of utopian impulses in unexpected places are described as "fundamentally sound and even persuasive." Many smaller observations, such as "one person’s utopia is another’s dystopia" (p. 4), also add value.
Nevertheless, the critical review argues that Saving Utopia is "less satisfying on the matter of the collapse of the modern time regime at the center of his work." Davidson’s uncritical acceptance of this premise is attributed to a "significant, and problematic, contradiction in his fundamental intellectual approach": his analysis of utopia’s prospects is conducted through the very "anti-utopian postmodernism" he implicitly seeks to counter.
The Myth of Unquestioning Progress and Its Collapse
The postmodernist inclination to treat post-war incredulity toward "grand narratives" as axiomatic, readily accepting a "belief" in progress flourishing in the 19th century and collapsing amid 20th-century catastrophes, is identified as a key flaw. This premise, the critique contends, is "more often glibly insisted upon than it is robustly argued" and vulnerable to historical reflection.
For as long as the linear, progress-expecting modern time consciousness existed, so too did its denial. The Enlightenment’s promise of progress through human reason was constantly challenged by Counter-Enlightenment conservatism, which preached the failings of human reason, the constancy of human nature, and the undesirability of change. This worldview, often rooted in misanthropic pessimism and a belief in humanity’s inherent corruption, frequently held political sway. The French Revolution, for instance, was followed by an age of continent-wide counter-revolution, leading Arno Mayer to describe the 19th century not as a period of liberal optimism but as "the persistence of the Old Regime," engaged in an "unremitting war against utopia."
Even the seemingly progressive "modern" elements of the 19th century often carried a bleak, anti-progressive cast. The Gilded Age, the Crisis of 1873, and the ensuing global depression fostered Social Darwinistic visions of perpetual struggle, with figures like Malthus, Spencer, Gobineau, and Schopenhauer shaping a pessimistic intellectual climate. The era’s artistic "Decadents," including Wilde himself (despite his nuanced view on utopia), often embraced sneering aristocratic poses or self-involvement, reflecting a disengagement from social struggles.
Moreover, the optimism of those who challenged the dominant conservative outlook was rarely unconditional. Davidson’s implication that 19th-century writers simply believed "a better future is written into the present" oversimplifies the complexity of progressive thought. Karl Marx, for example, saw the replacement of capitalism with socialism as a necessity, not an inevitability, warning of "the ruin of the contending classes" if progress failed—a "socialism or barbarism" (later "socialism or extinction") paradigm echoed by H.G. Wells. Even those confident in humanity’s ultimate choice for progress, like Wells and Jack London (The Iron Heel [1908]), recognized the path as likely "long, winding and painful." The left itself, represented by the Second International, often faced marginalization and apathy, culminating in its "last great betrayal" in 1914.
Re-evaluating the Twentieth Century’s "Apocalypse"
Davidson’s claim of a collapse in "belief" after 1914 is further challenged. While the "Thirty Years’ Crisis" of 1914-1945 undeniably brought horrors, the response was far more complex than the "familiar narrative" suggests. The "conventional wisdom" that WWI demonstrated reason’s failure, leading to despair, is countered by the argument that many saw these horrors not as a betrayal of reason, but as evidence that "reason had never been tried." They contended that the root evil lay in the "enduring social system," not "human nature," making the choice between progress and barbarism clearer and more urgent.
This perspective fueled movements like the Russian Revolution (despite Davidson’s focus on its "degeneration") and inspired widespread sympathy far beyond "respectable" opinion. Similarly, while Hiroshima prompted some to foresee humanity’s end, others saw it as an urgent call for "an end to war." The very upsurge of utopianism in the 1960s and 1970s—well after the catastrophes of 1945, amidst struggles against racism, colonialism, and the counterculture—serves as a potent reminder that both 19th-century optimism and 20th-century pessimism are often exaggerated.
The Enduring Shadow of Anti-Utopianism
Davidson’s respect for conventional wisdom on this point, even when contradicted by his own acknowledgment of post-war utopianism, leads him to accept "Cold War liberalism" and its assertion that utopia was a "harbinger of totalitarianism" (p. 34). This "irrefutable" argument, he implies, forced would-be utopians into "ambiguous" forms or abandonment. Yet, even prominent Cold War liberals, like Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., later tempered their "mystical" views of totalitarianism.
Critically, Davidson "lumps together" anti-Marxist Cold War liberalism with Marxist critiques of "utopian socialism." He thus "slights the profound differences" between Marxists, who were "enemies of Utopia for the sake of utopia’s realization" (p. 52), and outright enemies of utopia. The review further contends that, contrary to Davidson’s suggestion of less anti-utopianism today, it remains "as pervasive, strident, and forceful as it has ever been." The "end of history" narrative cemented anti-Communist variants as official wisdom, with figures like Robert Conquest and Timothy Snyder perpetuating extreme interpretations.
Neoliberalism as a Utopian Project for the Right
Davidson’s treatment of "neoliberalism" is also deemed inconsistent and insufficient. At times dismissive of the term or confused about its meaning (e.g., suggesting it was a "continuation of the revolutionary experiments of the 1960s and 1970s" [p. 124]), he ultimately relegates it to a secondary, "reinforcing" role in the "crisis of the future." This, the critique argues, fails to give neoliberalism its due as the primary force that "finished off the revolts of the 1960s and 1970s."
As scholars like David Harvey have demonstrated, the neoliberal turn emerged from a crisis of profitability for business and finance, coupled with demands for a more just order from both "First World" working people and developing countries. The "neoliberal project" was a "broader and deeper political counter-offensive" against all who sought a different world. Margaret Thatcher’s "There Is No Alternative" (TINA) mantra, a refurbished Spencerian pessimism, exemplifies this. TINA, in effect, provided no alternative to a "Golden Straitjacket"-wearing world where the short-term interests of "megacorporatized Big Business" and its beneficiaries (the "superclass" of the 0.0001 percent) reign supreme, effectively ruling out any systemic address of global problems. This explains the contradiction of billionaires fighting for the status quo while investing in "luxury doomsday bunkers," revealing a profound hopelessness about the future they actively shape. The pervasive despair regarding the climate crisis, in particular, is intrinsically linked to how this political paradigm has thwarted a desperately needed "energy transition" for half a century.
Overlooked Utopias and Biased Interpretations
Davidson’s reliance on a conventional, arguably flawed, historical reading not only creates a theory of decline that doesn’t fit all the facts but also "slights much of the field he surveys." He merely mentions Robinson’s Mars trilogy without deeper engagement and completely ignores other significant utopian manifestations from the post-1970s period. Notable omissions include Norman Spinrad’s Russian Spring (1991) and Greenhouse Summer (1999), the latter envisioning a Soviet experiment playing a positive role in a more peaceful, fairer world and highlighting the contrast between climate change under capitalism versus a syndicalist order. Iain M. Banks’ post-scarcity Culture novels (1987-2012) and Ken MacLeod’s Fall Revolution (1995-99) with their functioning Communism are also conspicuously absent.
Furthermore, while Davidson rightly acknowledges that "one person’s utopia is another’s dystopia," he rarely applies this wisdom consistently in his literary judgments. He often equates utopia with leftist works and dystopia with rightist attacks on leftist ideals. This leads him to overlook "leftist dystopias rooted in untrammeled capitalism, corporate power and political reaction," such as Wells’s The Sleeper Awakes (1899), London’s Iron Heel, or Pohl and Kornbluth’s The Space Merchants (1952)—none of which Davidson mentions. Conversely, he tends to miss the right’s rarely acknowledged utopian impulses, particularly how neoliberalism itself was a "utopian project for the libertarian right," present in works like Neal Stephenson’s The Diamond Age (1995). Finally, despite acknowledging audiovisual media, the glaring omission of Star Trek, arguably "the most popular, and frequently acknowledged, piece of utopian fiction within living memory," is highlighted as a significant oversight.
Sparking Scholarly Dialogue: A Necessary Provocation
Had Davidson been less constrained by the "weaknesses of the Koselleckian premise," he might have avoided straining "so hard to read against the grain and at the margins to search out evidences of utopian thinking and feeling." In doing so, he "missed much that was right in front of him" and potentially overestimated the significance of the specific narrative he chose to emphasize, because, "like anti-utopia, unabashed utopia, is a far greater presence in contemporary culture than most admit." The result, according to the critique, is a book that "all too often acquiesces in or even affirms the anti-utopianism that its author clearly meant it to challenge."
Nevertheless, Saving Utopia is acknowledged for asking "worthwhile questions." Even if its analysis is more compelling on secondary issues than primary ones, this alone makes it "an engaging and useful work." The very contradictions within Davidson’s analysis suggest a "stronger, more lucid, work trapped within the postmodernist argumentation that today’s academic life alas makes mandatory if one wishes to be taken seriously within it as a scholar." This, the reviewer concedes, is a "fault of the milieu as a whole than of any one researcher."
Conclusion: The Unextinguished Flame of Utopia
Joe P. L. Davidson’s Saving Utopia stands as a significant, if debated, contribution to the ongoing discourse on utopianism. Its strengths lie in its clear definitions, its historical tracing of utopian "temporalization," and its exploration of how utopian impulses persist in unexpected corners of contemporary fiction. However, its perceived reliance on a postmodernist interpretation of history, which arguably oversimplifies the decline of progressive thought and overlooks the active suppression of utopianism by powerful anti-utopian forces (from conservative counter-revolutions to Cold War liberalism and neoliberalism), presents a critical limitation.
The article highlights that the "pessimistic twentieth century" was not merely the inevitable outcome of humanity chastened by apocalypse, but rather a period where opponents of progress and utopia often held power, actively imposing their "interpretation of events on the mainstream as its conventional wisdom and ‘common sense’." The "collapse" of utopianism, the critique asserts, was largely a consequence of this anti-utopian agenda, rather than a natural societal response. Evidence from the 1960s utopian upsurge to contemporary challenges to neoliberal triumphalism suggests that the "death of utopianism" has been "greatly exaggerated."
Ultimately, Saving Utopia serves as a vital provocation, urging readers to reconsider the true state of utopian thought. Despite its internal contradictions and omissions, it underscores that utopianism remains a greater and more resilient presence in culture than is often acknowledged. As "reality’s hard knocks" increasingly challenge dominant narratives, Davidson’s work sets the stage for further necessary inquiries into the enduring human capacity to imagine, and fight for, radically better worlds. It is a testament to the ongoing power of critical thought, and the unextinguished flame of utopia itself.
