Lessons from Reckwitz and Rosa: Towards a Constructive Dialogue between Critical Analytics and Critical Theory

ABSTRACT

It is hard to overstate the growing impact of the works of Andreas Reckwitz and Hartmut Rosa on contemporary social theory. Given the quality and originality of their intellectual contributions, it is no accident that they can be regarded as two towering figures of contemporary German social theory. The far-reaching significance of their respective approaches is reflected not only in their numerous publications but also in the fast-evolving secondary literature engaging with their writings. All of this should be reason enough to take note of their collaborative work, which, most recently, has culminated in the publication of their co-authored book  Spätmoderne in der Krise: Was leistet die Gesellschaftstheorie? (Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2021). The main purpose of this paper is to demonstrate that the latest exchange between Reckwitz and Rosa contains valuable insights into recent and ongoing trends in society in general and social theory in particular. The first part comprises an outline of the central matters at stake in, and the core lessons learnt from, the constructive dialogue between Reckwitz’s critical analytics and Rosa’s critical theory, before moving, in the second part, to an assessment of the most significant limitations of their respective views and propositions.

KEYWORDS:

• Critical analytics
• critical theory
• Reckwitz (Andreas)
• Rosa (Hartmut)
• social theory

Introduction

It is hard to overstate the growing impact of the works of Andreas Reckwitz and Hartmut Rosa on contemporary social theory – not only in Germany but also, to an increasing extent, across and beyond Europe. Given the quality and originality of their intellectual contributions, it is no accident that they can be regarded as two towering figures of contemporary German social theory.¹ The far-reaching significance of their respective approaches is reflected not only in their numerous publications² but also in the fast-evolving secondary literature engaging with their writings³ – not to mention their noticeable presence in the European public sphere, illustrated in their regular appearances on the radio, television, and social media.

All of this should be reason enough to take note of their collaborative work, which, most recently, has culminated in the publication of their co-authored book Spätmoderne in der Krise: Was leistet die Gesellschaftstheorie? (Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2021).⁴ Upon closer examination, the translation of this title into English is trickier than it may appear at first glance. The obvious option would be as follows: Late Modernity in Crisis: What Does Social Theory Achieve? When grappling with the main arguments developed in this volume, however, it becomes clear that seeking a suitable translation of the German title into English goes to the heart of a key issue explored by Reckwitz and Rosa: the distinction between Gesellschaftstheorie and Sozialtheorie.

The following analysis aims to demonstrate that the latest conversation between Reckwitz and Rosa – moderated by Martin Bauer, entitled ‘Modernity and Critique’,⁵ and included in their co-authored volume – contains valuable insights into recent and ongoing trends in society in general and social theory in particular. The first part of this paper comprises an outline of the central matters at stake in, and the core lessons learnt from, the constructive dialogue between Reckwitz’s critical analytics and Rosa’s critical theory, before moving, in the second part, to an assessment of the most significant limitations of their respective views and propositions.

I.

1. Empirical Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for an empirical sociology.⁶ Both are opposed to theoretical approaches that fail to recognize that perceptive explanatory frameworks provided by sociological analysis ‘cannot simply be deduced from general concepts’⁷ but, rather, must be informed by an empirical engagement with ‘particular concrete historical phenomena’.⁸ Far from being obtainable from engaging in the intellectual exercise of pursuing ‘theory for the sake of theory’, vital insights into the constitution, development, and functioning of reality can be gained from the systematic and extensive examination of relevant ‘historical-empirical material’.⁹ To illustrate the significance of this point, Reckwitz and Rosa make reference to the works of prominent sociologists, such as Pierre Bourdieu and Luc Boltanski, whose contributions are not only theoretically sophisticated and methodologically rigorous but also empirically grounded and historically informed. The same applies to Reckwitz and Rosa themselves – notably the former’s empirical inquiries into fundamental fields of tension [Spannungsfelder] in modern forms of life, and the latter’s empirical explorations of the degree to which our relationship to the world is shaped by axes of resonance (and alienation). In short, both Reckwitz and Rosa are committed to the empirical study of social reality.

2. Historical Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a historical sociology.¹⁰ Firmly situated in Weberian thought, they are adamant that an in-depth understanding of contemporary reality requires a critical engagement with history. In Reckwitz’s view, there is ‘a strong connection between sociology and history’.¹¹ Arguably, modernity has been on the scene for at least 250 years. It is hard to make sense of it without a solid grasp of its history. Modernity is a central object of study in sociology, above all in social theory. If the term ‘modernity’ is ‘used in an “undifferentiated” fashion’,¹² however, it fails to account for the numerous specificities that characterize the genealogies of different societies. It is important, therefore, to resist the temptation to reduce modernity to a uniform, homogenous, and standardized historical condition, governed by one and the same logic. We need to recognize not only that modernity is pervaded by competing – and often contradictory – logics but also, in a more fundamental sense, that, over the past centuries, multiple modernities have emerged. In each of them, structural mechanisms are at work, which – from a comparative-historical perspective – converge and diverge to significant degrees. To be clear, all forms of modernity are constituted by a combination of social (notably economic, political, ideological, cultural, technological, and organizational) forces. These forces, however, exert their influence in different ways, to different degrees, and under different circumstances.

In the European context, we may identify different stages of modernity: bourgeois modernity, industrial modernity, and late modernity.¹³ At a global level, we may identify different types of modernity: European modernity, Asian modernity, African modernity, secular modernity, Christian modernity, Islamic modernity, capitalist modernity, communist modernity, liberal modernity, authoritarian modernity, and so forth. Rosa concedes that such a comparative-historical viewpoint remains underdeveloped in his own work,¹⁴ since he is ‘motivated by a systematic interest’¹⁵ in shedding light on modernity’s Steigerungslogik – that is, the logic of incessant increase, augmentation, and intensification. In his eyes, this systemic propensity permeates all stages and types of modernity, albeit in different forms and to different degrees. On his interpretation, all phases and variants of modernity have something in common – that is, they all share a set of fundamental features. Otherwise, it would not make sense to characterize them as ‘modern’ in the first place.¹⁶

Reckwitz, by contrast, warns that such a universalizing perspective may result in dehistoricization. More specifically, he posits that some of the most influential contemporary social theories – including rational choice theory, systems theory, and practice theory – ‘tend to dehistoricize themselves’.¹⁷ Arguably, this trend manifests itself in the artificial construction of the abstract dualism between (social) holism and (methodological) individualism¹⁸ – a binary choice that is unhelpful, preventing us from grasping the historical contexts in which terminological, conceptual, epistemological, methodological, and empirical toolkits emerge.

This point can be illustrated by reconstructing the genealogy of prominent approaches in social theory. Rational choice theories¹⁹ have come out of (originally bourgeois) constitutional modes of thinking, notably those associated with the works of Thomas Hobbes²⁰ and John Locke,²¹ who, from a liberal point of view, can be credited with having paved the way for conceiving of humans as utility-maximizing actors, anticipating the rise of bourgeois modernity. Talcott Parsons’s structural functionalism,²² with its emphasis on the consolidation of relatively stable systems and norms, ‘fits’ the logic of an organized, industrial modernity. Poststructuralism²³ and actor-network theory²⁴ – and even practice theory²⁵ – may be considered reflections of the ‘liquidation [Verflüssigung] of the social’ in late modernity.²⁶ In brief, there is a link between the thematic ingredients of sociological projects and the historical constellations in which they emerge and to which they respond.

3. Processual Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a processual sociology.²⁷ They scrutinize ‘historical processes’,²⁸ seeking to understand ‘the genealogy of social formations’.²⁹ Rosa warns of treating ‘sociology as a mere science of order’³⁰ and, by implication, as an endeavour aimed at uncovering ‘the structural typology [Strukturtypik] of the social’.³¹ This trend, in his estimation, is especially pronounced in systems theories, insofar as they draw a simplistic distinction between ‘premodern’ and ‘modern’ societies, according to which functional differentiation is the key characteristic of ‘advanced’ forms of life. Challenging this view, Rosa intends to demonstrate that ‘the basic structural principle of modernity’³² is ‘a process’³³ driven by constant acceleration. In his current work, Rosa attempts to take this theme to the next level by developing the concept of social energy, a nuanced understanding of which appears to be lacking in the contemporary social sciences.³⁴

If, for instance, one focuses exclusively on the study of social structures (such as class structures), then one runs the risk of portraying these as ‘dead matter, without a dynamic principle’³⁵ capable of explaining social change. For Rosa, therefore, it is essential to do justice to ‘the fundamental processual dimension [Prozessdimension]’³⁶ of social life. He seeks to do so by providing both ‘structural determinations and cultural analyses’³⁷ and, hence, by offering a multilayered understanding of the different forces shaping society. To account for the ‘fundamental processuality’³⁸ built into social existence requires taking ‘a temporal perspective’³⁹ from which, within the context of ceaselessly shifting historical constellations, nothing is forever. Given his interest in the genealogy of social phenomena, Reckwitz shares Rosa’s pursuit of ‘processual thinking [Prozessdenken]’:⁴⁰ anything that can be constructed can be deconstructed and reconstructed. The social can be regarded as a process and, thus, as a form of becoming that, by definition, is as open to the future [zukunftsoffen]⁴¹ as conditioned by the past.

4. Praxeological Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a praxeological sociology.⁴² Both place a strong emphasis on the socio-ontological significance of actions and the degree to which these are habitualized, leading to the emergence of practices. Both Reckwitz’s defence of ‘practice theory’ and Rosa’s ‘sociology of our relationship to the world’ are inconceivable without a critical understanding of the multiple ways in which we – as humans – engage with the objective, normative, and subjective dimensions of our existence by ‘doing’ things. This performativist reading extends to those areas of social life that are not commonly perceived, let alone studied, in praxeological terms, as illustrated in Reckwitz’s interest in the phenomenon of loss. In this respect, his central hypothesis is that ‘a paradoxical approach to losses [Verlusten] is fundamental to modern societies’.⁴³

Crucial to his framework, however, is the effort to interpret ‘losses praxeologically as doing loss [sic] – that is, not as a merely mental phenomenon but as practices of loss’,⁴⁴ which are socio-culturally conditioned and, hence, historically contingent. Indeed, he goes a step further by claiming that ‘the peculiar, paradoxical relevance of the phenomenon of loss’⁴⁵ can be grasped more accurately by a theory of society [Gesellschaftstheorie] than by social theory [Sozialtheorie], since, unlike the latter, the former is equipped with the analytic resources necessary to capture the qualitative specificities of modern societies.

Although Rosa remains unconvinced by the distinction between Gesellschaftstheorie and Sozialtheorie, his sociological approach is equally praxeological, suggesting that the multiple ways in which we relate to the world are shaped by, and expressed in, the various modes in which we interact with and act upon it. Put differently, our relationship to the world is not only interpretive but also purposive and, thus, essentially performative. We exist not only by making sense of and attaching meaning to the world but also by projecting ourselves into, interacting with, and acting upon it. For humans, Dasein is conceivable only as a form of always-to-be-reconstructed Miteinandersein.⁴⁶

5. Periodizing Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a periodizing sociology.⁴⁷ They do so, however, by proposing different stage theories. Reckwitz distinguishes three key periods: (a) bourgeois modernity, (b) industrial modernity, and (c) late modernity, to which he also refers as ‘a special version of modernity’.⁴⁸ From his – genealogical – perspective, ‘historical periods of transition’⁴⁹ are particularly interesting for sociologists, since they permit them ‘to make sense of social change’⁵⁰ (and, by implication, of the intrinsic relationship between past, present, and future).

Rosa also distinguishes three key periods, but he does so by interpreting different types and degrees of acceleration as the main indicators of social change – a process that can be illustrated in generational terms.⁵¹ (a) In early modernity, social change was a transgenerational phenomenon – that is, it was so slow that it occurred over several generations. Several successive generations were living in the same historical period. (b) In industrial modernity, social change was an intergenerational phenomenon – that is, each new generation was a carrier of a foundational innovation, associated with profound civilizational shifts generated by scientific, technological, and economic transformations. (c) In late modernity, social change is an intragenerational phenomenon – that is, the speed of transformation is so breath-taking that several stages of social change may occur within the lifetime of a generation, leading to rapidly adjusting forms of ‘cultural self – and world-perception’.⁵²

Rosa insists that, for the purpose of his analysis, there is no need to make reference to historical contingencies, since the ‘structural principle of modernity’⁵³ is, and will continue to be, the same across the world: all modern societies are governed by ‘the logic of dynamic stabilization’⁵⁴ and, hence, by the imperative of incessant acceleration. The presuppositional differences between the two thinkers notwithstanding, ‘the will to periodize’⁵⁵ plays a pivotal role in the works of both Reckwitz and Rosa.

6. Diagnostic Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a diagnostic sociology.⁵⁶ Thus, both seek to provide a diagnosis of our time. Reckwitz identifies three fields of tension [Spannungsfelder], which – in his view – are central to modernity: (a) ‘the opening of contingency’ [Kontingenzöffnung] vs. ‘the closing of contingency’ [Kontingenzschließung], (b) ‘the logic of rationalization’ vs. ‘the logic of culturalization’, and (c) ‘progress’ vs. ‘loss’.⁵⁷ Moreover, these tensions manifest themselves in the dialectic of (a) ‘the formation of order’ vs. ‘critique’, (b) ‘generalization’ vs. ‘singularization’, and (c) ‘future orientation and preference for the new’ vs. ‘coping with loss and historical legacy’.

According to Reckwitz, these tensions are ‘typically modern’.⁵⁸ He qualifies this claim, however, by suggesting that different versions of modernity result in different ‘mixing ratios [Mischungsverhältnissen]’⁵⁹ – the obvious example being late modernity, which is characterized by the constant expansion of the logic of singularization. And yet, the degree to which specific trends and developments fall into one category or another is not always self-evident. For instance, neoliberal marketization policies may be presented as an ‘opening of contingency’ and ‘progress’ by those who support them and as a ‘closing of contingency’ and ‘loss’ by those who oppose them. In Reckwitz’s opinion, this interpretive elasticity prevents us from falling into the trap of the ‘fetishization of modernity’⁶⁰ and, at the same time, allows for ‘a pragmatic use of the concept’,⁶¹ capturing the fact that, as a historical condition, it comprises several constitutive features. Crucially, Reckwitz is interested in the historical, rather than logical, connections between these tensions.⁶² Just as societies may go through ‘phases of radical opening’, they may endure ‘phases of radical closure’.

In their diagnoses, Reckwitz and Rosa concur in assuming that these ‘phases’ are shaped by socio-historically contingent dynamics, which are irreducible to a transcendental logic exerting its power in mysterious ways. In a Hegelian fashion, both contend that ‘[t]he impulse of the permanent revision’⁶³ of existing constellations is a central feature of modernity. Yet, whereas Reckwitz conceives of this inherent tension in terms of the dialectic of ‘opening of contingency’ [Kontingenzöffnung] vs. ‘closing of contingency’ [Kontingenzschließung], Rosa aims to make sense of it in terms of the dialectic of uncontrollability [Unverfügbarkeit] vs. controllability [Verfügbarkeit].⁶⁴ Indeed, for Rosa, the ‘movement of modernity’⁶⁵ is essentially shaped by the constant ‘expansion of horizons of controllability’.⁶⁶

7. Dialectical Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a dialectical sociology.⁶⁷ More specifically, both emphasize the role of tensions and contradictions in the unfolding of history. Arguably, this theme is epitomized, in Hegelian terms, in the power of ‘sublation’ [Aufhebung] and, in Schumpeterian terms, in the power of ‘creative destruction’. Reckwitz makes it clear, however, that he does not endorse a Hegelian or Marxist philosophy of history, according to which emancipatory processes will result in ‘a contradiction-free ending’.⁶⁸ Rather, the ‘dialectical movement between problem and problem solution’⁶⁹ that he has in mind is governed by ‘a logic of question and answer’.⁷⁰ His position may be described as ‘anti-Hegelian Hegelianism’, asserting that large-scale historical developments are driven by ‘a dialectic without a telos’.⁷¹

For instance, in the transitions from one form of modernity to another (bourgeois modernity, industrial modernity, and late modernity), new sets of contradictions emerge each time, only to be resolved at the next stage, so that ‘the whole game goes into the next round’⁷² and starts all over again. His endorsement of a ‘non-teleological dialectic’ notwithstanding, Reckwitz acknowledges that the idea of progress is central to the radical openness of contingency, which is built into modernity as a historical condition.⁷³ Regardless of its progressive constitution, there is no such thing as a ‘sense of direction’⁷⁴ inherent in historical processes; and, thus, there is ‘no teleology that governs the succession of different modernities’.⁷⁵ Rather, history is an accumulation of ‘contingent happenings’.⁷⁶

Paradoxically, Rosa both converges with and diverges from this perspective. He converges with it insofar as he also rejects any kind of teleological determinism. He diverges from it insofar as he concedes that his critique of modernity presupposes a certain ‘sense of direction [Richtungssinn]’,⁷⁷ shaped by the tension between resonance and alienation. He insists, however, that he conceives of this process ‘not as a type of historical teleology but as a formative one’.⁷⁸ Hence, ‘[he] would not speak of a telos’,⁷⁹ stressing that ‘[t]he history of philosophy is not [his] thing’⁸⁰ and that, in his work, he aims to cast light on the ‘processual logic’⁸¹ underlying modern formations. We are confronted, then, with a ‘telos’-vs.-‘process’ dichotomy: the paradigm shift from a ‘teleological’ to a ‘processual’ understanding of modernity involves a transition from a determinist to a contingent view of history.⁸²

To Rosa’s mind, ‘the structure of dynamic stabilization’⁸³ lies at the core of all modern societies – a constitutive process that co-conditions [mitbedingt], although not co-determines [mitbestimmt], the course of different historical processes.⁸⁴ Indeed, Rosa goes as far as to suggest that his processual approach allows for the possibility of making predictions about future developments, illustrating the need for different modes of intervention, which are aimed not only at creating the conditions for individual and collective emancipation but also at contributing to the preservation of the human species and its environment.⁸⁵

8. Contingent Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a contingent sociology.⁸⁶ As pointed out by Rosa, Reckwitz’s three fields of tension [Spannungsfelder] may be regarded as ‘universal’ and ‘transhistorical’, in the sense that – arguably – these can be found in all, rather than exclusively in modern, social formations.⁸⁷ Interestingly, however, Reckwitz distances himself from Rosa’s interpretation, stressing that he has no intention of putting forward an ‘anthropological conception of contingency, according to the motto: the moment Homo sapiens enters the scene, there is free will – that is, the capacity to do things differently, since this is part of the natural faculties of humans’.⁸⁸ In contrast to a universalist view of the human condition, Reckwitz places a strong emphasis on the link between contingency and modernity. On this account, modernity is a historical condition based on the idea that ‘society as a whole is contingent and the social, with all its realms, is essentially malleable and changeable’,⁸⁹ always potentially in need of being reconfigured and reconstructed [gestaltungsbedürftig].⁹⁰ In this sense, modern formations are fundamentally different from their premodern precursors, including hunter-gatherer societies. Arguably, these were never radically transformed, unless they were influenced by major external factors, such as climate change and epidemics,⁹¹ which is why Claude Lévi-Strauss referred to them as ‘cold societies’,⁹² in which, over extensive periods of time, hardly anything changed.

It would be short-sighted, however, to overlook the degree to which modern societies are characterized not only by the opening of contingency [Kontingenzöffnung] but also by the closing of contingency [Kontingenzschließung], which may take on radical and seemingly all-encompassing forms. This potential is expressed in the rise (and fall) of totalitarianism in the 20th century⁹³ – and, more recently, in the resurgence of authoritarian and populist regimes across the world.⁹⁴ Reckwitz interprets these phenomena as ‘typically modern’.⁹⁵

The risk of the radical closing of contingency notwithstanding, Reckwitz and Rosa agree on ‘the endogenization of the opening of contingency’.⁹⁶ In other words, for both sociologists, the relentless opening of contingency – although it can be challenged by the closing of contingency – is built into the very heart of modernity. Contingency is what makes modernity tick. Indeed, Reckwitz goes a step further by asserting that the guiding theme of modernity is revolution.⁹⁷ Profound social transformations, including revolutions, express modernity’s need (and its advocates’ desire) to open up horizons of contingency further and further. Contingency becomes real the moment it is actualized. Premodern societies, even though they were not entirely static, did not undergo structural transformations comparable, in scope and significance, to those of their modern counterparts.⁹⁸ None of these transformations can escape the tension between ‘the logic of the universal’ and ‘the logic of the particular’, both of which – far from being reducible to two poles of Kantian epistemology – are ‘at work in every cultural order’⁹⁹ and, hence, in every society.

Crucially, for Reckwitz, ‘[m]odernity generalizes and particularizes at a specific level of radicality’:¹⁰⁰ in terms of its universalizing potential, modernity can produce social orders that are radically egalitarian, uniformist, and standardizing, often in a dehumanizing fashion; in terms of its particularizing potential, modernity can produce social orders that generate the radical ‘singularization of subjects, things, places, events, and communities’,¹⁰¹ epitomized in the late-modern trend towards hyper-individualization.¹⁰² Whether one interprets this paradoxical development in terms of the tension between standardization and singularization or ‘the constant conflict between rationalism and romanticism’,¹⁰³ it is central to the contingent condition of modernity.

9. High-Resolution Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a high-resolution sociology.¹⁰⁴ In this sense, they are committed to the idea that the features of a particular epoch (including modernity) should not be exaggerated and that, by implication, every typology needs to be qualified, notably by drawing on other disciplines. It can be embarrassing for sociologists to claim that they have ‘discovered’ something entirely new (for instance, about a particular stage or form of modernity), only to realize – when exchanging ideas with scholars from other disciplines (such as history, anthropology, or psychology) – that their ‘finding’ is not as unprecedented as they had thought. A medievalist, for example, may point out that individuality, both as an ideal and as a reality, already existed in the Middle Ages.¹⁰⁵ In a similar vein, ancient historians may note that the opening of contingency and modes of democratic participation – commonly associated with modernity – already existed in antiquity.

To resist the seductive power of stereotyped and clichéd conceptions of the social, it is important – in Reckwitz’s words – ‘to flexibilize [one’s] sociological positions’¹⁰⁶ and to be open to the idea of ‘temporal hybridizations’.¹⁰⁷ Such an (arguably more differentiated) approach is wary of all-encompassing rupture-focused frameworks, according to which historical formations are entirely different from each other. Instead of positing ‘here is the break with which modernity comes into being, and before everything was entirely different’,¹⁰⁸ we need to grasp the degree to which even highly dynamic historical conditions – such as modernity – develop slowly with ‘incremental developments’.¹⁰⁹ Such a gradualist understanding of modernity is more nuanced and, hence, more likely to provide a high-resolution account of social reality than catch-all explanations and low-resolution (mis)representations. Although Rosa is suspicious of the argument that sociologists exaggerate the discontinuities between modern and premodern societies,¹¹⁰ he accepts that valuable insights can be gained from ‘interdisciplinary border traffic’¹¹¹ and, thus, from discursive exchanges taking place across epistemic comfort zones.

10. Epochal Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for an epochal sociology.¹¹² In accordance with this perspective, they are committed to identifying the key features of modernity, notably those that make it a unique historical condition. This is not to deny that modernity, its distinctive characteristics notwithstanding, may share some significant features with preceding periods of human history. This is to recognize, however, that it is marked by a series of dimensions that make it fundamentally different from previous epochal constellations.

In his recent work, Reckwitz has focused on what he describes as ‘late modernity’ – that is, a historical condition that he regards as a special version of modernity.¹¹³ In his view, one of its defining features is the ‘extraordinary expansion of the logic of singularization’,¹¹⁴ a trend through which ‘the logic of the particular’¹¹⁵ permeates almost every single aspect of social life. From the 1970s and 1980s onwards, three factors have played a pivotal role in the consolidation of late modernity: (a) the rise of cultural capitalism, including its underlying logic of expansion and, hence, its need to conquer new markets; (b) the increasing digitalization of society – a technologically driven development that, in the 21st century, pervades almost every facet of human existence; (c) socio-structural transformations resulting in the formation of a new middle class. In the initial stages of late modernity, these three factors were largely independent of each other. More recently, however, they have started to reinforce each other.¹¹⁶

Rosa, by contrast, regards ‘the logic of dynamic stabilization’¹¹⁷ as the defining feature of modernity. This ‘structural principle’¹¹⁸ has been exacerbated by the dispersion of late-modern forms of life. Given the pluralization of modes of existence within the context of late modernity, ‘disparate worlds of experience’¹¹⁹ have emerged, some of which may appear incommensurable to others, especially from the point of view of the actors participating in their construction. Irrespective of its degree of pluralization and fragmentation, modernity constitutes ‘a formation that can stabilize itself only dynamically’.¹²⁰ This incessant process of dynamic stabilization is systematically dependent on three developments: (a) growth, (b) acceleration, and (c) innovation.¹²¹ In light of these constitutive features, dynamic stabilization involves ‘the constant transgression of given and rehearsed practices’,¹²² including the normative orders by which they are sustained. Far from being reducible to a merely structural mechanism determined by a subjacent systemic logic, however, dynamic stabilization cannot unfold without ‘a particular type of relationship to the world [Weltverhältnis]’¹²³ – that is, one that, in Taylorian terms, is motivated by ‘strong evaluations’¹²⁴ and one that, in Rosian terms, is aimed at ‘making the world controllable [Verfügbarmachung von Welt]’¹²⁵ and, thus, being subjugated to the force of instrumental rationality.

Irrespective of the question of which of these two approaches one finds more persuasive, both are based on the assumption that the concept of modernity would dissolve if there were no commonalities between all societies associated with this historical condition.¹²⁶

11. Evaluative Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for an evaluative sociology.¹²⁷ Their evaluations of modernity, however, differ significantly. In Reckwitz’s eyes, Rosa’s approach can be perceived as a ‘negative theory of modernity’:¹²⁸ in terms of both its structural core and its development, ‘[t]he basic principle of dynamic stabilization contains a self-destructive potential’,¹²⁹ which, in the long run, ‘seals our fate’¹³⁰ as a species. Rosa seeks to defend himself against this fatalistic interpretation of his work, emphasizing that his own analysis differs from other – notably functionalist – theories of modernity in at least two respects.¹³¹

First, at the normative level, Rosa stresses that, for him, the term ‘modernity’ is not positively connotated, since he does not interpret modernization as a history of progress. Rather, his focus is on ‘the dark side of modernity’,¹³² notably on the processes through which modernization becomes a destructive regime of coercion, constraint, and compulsion. Consequently, in his writings, non-modern – that is, preindustrial – social relations are portrayed not as ‘deficient’ or ‘backward’ but, rather, as alternatives that are relevant to the search for salvation and emancipation.¹³³

Second, at the historical level, Rosa conceives of modernization as an open and contingent, rather than inevitable or irreversible, process. He rejects Parsons’s idea of ‘evolutionary universals’,¹³⁴ according to which historical discoveries are irreversible because they present a developmental advantage. Rosa does not believe that, at some point, all societies must become modern or face the prospect of disappearing altogether. He does not advocate the idea of ‘catch-up modernization’, according to which so-called ‘backward societies’ are doomed to follow the developmental path of those in ‘the West’, thereby confirming the consolidation of liberalism as the triumphant political ideology and capitalism as the hegemonic economic system across the world, as epitomized in ‘the end of history’¹³⁵ thesis.

In short, far from endorsing a functionalist – let alone determinist – perspective, Rosa regards ‘the ambition to open up possibilities, to expand the horizon of possibilities’,¹³⁶ as a distinctively ‘modern phenomenon’¹³⁷ – one that critical theory needs to take seriously if it aims to contribute to human emancipation.

While Reckwitz is wary of this normative mission, he sympathizes with Max Horkheimer’s contention that science needs to reflect on its place in society.¹³⁸ On this view, no knowledge-seeking subject can ‘occupy a neutral, as it were extra-societal, position’¹³⁹ of an entirely objective and disinterested observer. Reckwitz spells out that, over the past decades, he has been drawn more to Michel Foucault and Pierre Bourdieu than to Niklas Luhmann and Jürgen Habermas.¹⁴⁰ In his estimation, Habermas’s theory of communicative action is problematic, given its ambition to locate the normative foundations of critique in the emancipatory resources derived from reason and language. For Reckwitz, Habermas’s attempt to develop a grand social philosophy means that ‘sociological analysis is, from the outset, being tucked into a normative straitjacket’,¹⁴¹ resulting in an analytic impasse of one-dimensional anticipation: if communicative reason lies at the core of the emancipatory power of the ideal speech situation, which is being undercut by the preponderance of instrumental reason (and, by implication, by the pathological effects of systematically distorted communication), then ‘[y]ou always already know what to search for’¹⁴² and, consequently, fail to account for the fact that there are numerous dimensions that, in terms of their socio-ontological significance, are equally foundational. Within the rigid boundaries of a self-enclosed normative framework, however, it is not possible to grasp ‘[t]he paradoxes of the social’.¹⁴³

Hence, Reckwitz is suspicious of normativist premises, since – in his opinion – they prevent those who subscribe to them from making sense of new social phenomena, which may require innovative explanatory frameworks, irreducible to one particular paradigm, such as communicative action. Indeed, ‘it is important for sociology to be willing to let itself be surprised by new phenomena and to seek to comprehend them without proceeding from a pre-given normative grid of analysis’.¹⁴⁴ In this sense, truly critical modes of inquiry have to dispense with stringent normative stipulations, and even more so normative determinations, which stifle one’s capacity to provide valuable insights into the constitution, development, and functioning of reality.

In this context, Reckwitz mentions Boltanski’s sociology of critique.¹⁴⁵ Arguably, Boltanski’s project represents a viable alternative to Bourdieu’s critical sociology and Frankfurt School critical theory, offering a conceptually sophisticated and empirically substantiated framework for the study of regimes of justification and practices of critique in contemporary societies. While Reckwitz acknowledges that this is a major accomplishment, he warns that, in terms of its empirical orientation, Boltanski’s sociology of critique focuses ‘completely on the participants’ perspective’,¹⁴⁶ implying that this approach explores, above all, the question of ‘which kind of actors and groups of actors practise which kind of critique’.¹⁴⁷ A balanced evaluative sociology, by contrast, needs to combine the first-person perspective (of participants) with the third-person perspective (of observers).

12. Critical Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a critical sociology.¹⁴⁸ Drawing on Foucault, Reckwitz advocates a ‘critical analytics [kritische Analytik]’.¹⁴⁹ This approach stands for ‘a mode of sociological analysis that deciphers the ostensibly self-evident in its contingency, makes it appear contingent, and thereby renders social connections, which do not feature in official representations, transparent’,¹⁵⁰ since their underlying logic is at work ‘behind people’s backs’.¹⁵¹ An example of this method is Reckwitz’s inquiry into ‘the social logic of singularization’,¹⁵² which ‘usually operates behind the backs of actors, who often think things are “really” singular’,¹⁵³ when, in fact, they are embedded in historical contexts, shaped by a large web of interconnected dynamics. Reckwitz posits that ‘this type of critical analysis’¹⁵⁴ – which ‘does not evaluate itself but lets the analysis speak for itself’¹⁵⁵ – is quite widespread in the humanities and social sciences and, more specifically, can be found in the contributions made by various thinkers and intellectual currents (from Foucault and Bourdieu, as well as cultural studies, to Marx and some members of the early Frankfurt School). The problem, however, is that – in his view – this outlook is hardly ever properly defined and explained.

To illustrate the mission of his critical analytics, Reckwitz draws attention to his work on creativity.¹⁵⁶ Instead of conceiving of creativity as ‘a quasi-natural property of humans’,¹⁵⁷ Reckwitz endorses ‘a genealogy of the social fabrication of creativity’.¹⁵⁸ Thus, he proposes to replace a universalist, if not transcendental, understanding of creativity with a genealogical one, capable of accounting for its historical contingency. Such a critical analytics sheds lights on ‘the contingency of the discourse of creativity and its social consequences, without wanting to criticize creativity or the creative subject as such’.¹⁵⁹ The emphasis of this genealogical approach, then, is placed on exploring the degree to which both ‘creativity as a social imperative’¹⁶⁰ and ‘the creative subject’,¹⁶¹ whose existence is taken for granted, ‘have developed only in specific social and cultural contexts’,¹⁶² from which they cannot be dissociated.

Rosa concedes that, while he considers himself a critical theorist, he sympathizes with some of the objections levelled at critical theory.¹⁶³ In particular, he acknowledges that a central problem with previous versions of critical theory was that their ‘evaluative criteria’¹⁶⁴ seemed to be ‘fixed’ and ‘irrefutable’, serving as yardsticks for assessing the extent to which people were suffering from social pathologies.¹⁶⁵ Once these pathologies had been identified, it was just a matter of ‘categorizing the respective phenomena’¹⁶⁶ in which they manifested themselves, rather than ‘taking them seriously in their social reality’¹⁶⁷ and, hence, in their entanglement with a multiplicity of potentially unknown constellations. In his sociology of the relationship to the world, Rosa aims to proceed differently, claiming that his opening question is not normative but descriptive.¹⁶⁸ Questions such as ‘What is going on here?’ and ‘What kind of relationship to the world are we dealing with here?’ are essential to his ‘strong descriptive interest’,¹⁶⁹ which – arguably – he shares with Reckwitz.¹⁷⁰

Far from limiting his endeavour to the third-person perspective of the descriptive observer, however, Rosa is committed to incorporating the first-person perspective of ordinary actors into his work, obliging him to take their experiences, perceptions, interpretations, dispositions, and interventions seriously – including the ways in which these are permeated by their hopes and desires.¹⁷¹ At this level, Rosa declares his ‘solidarity with the first-person singular’¹⁷² – that is, with the subjective perspective of ordinary actors. As a methodological move, it is based on ‘the conviction that theory emerges fundamentally from a critical impulse, namely from the feeling that something is not quite right, something is going wrong’.¹⁷³ Somewhat controversially, Rosa posits that sociological (and other) theories – including their functionalist versions à la Luhmann – emanate from an ‘irritation or preoccupation’.¹⁷⁴

Crucial to the study of the reasons for this disposition, however, is a critical engagement with the (potential or actual) discrepancies between ordinary and scientific interpretations of the world. To the degree that ‘some self-descriptions that circulate in society are simply not true’,¹⁷⁵ it is the task of critical social inquiry to expose their problematic nature and their expression in misconceptions and misrepresentations. In light of this reflection, Rosa insists that ‘every analytic interest always goes hand in hand with a critical one’¹⁷⁶ and that, consequently, ‘the yardstick of critique cannot be gained externally and be brought to the phenomena from outside’.¹⁷⁷ Suspicious of any form of epistemic or normative paternalism, Rosa is not in the business of seeking ‘to enlighten the to-be-enlightened’¹⁷⁸ by telling them what to do and/or what to think. Rather, he is concerned with describing ‘things that are problematic’¹⁷⁹ and understanding them from both the third-person perspective and the first-person perspective. This is the essence of his various attempts at providing the ‘Best Account [sic]’.¹⁸⁰

Reckwitz rejects the obsession with paradigms – or at least key concepts – in critical theory: Theodor W. Adorno’s theory of negative dialectics;¹⁸¹ Jürgen Habermas’s theory of communicative action;¹⁸² Axel Honneth’s theory of recognition;¹⁸³ Rainer Forst’s theory of justification;¹⁸⁴ Martin Saar’s theory of power;¹⁸⁵ Rahel Jaeggi’s theory of forms of life;¹⁸⁶ and, last but not least, Rosa’s theory of resonance.¹⁸⁷ In each case, a paradigm – or at least a key concept – is used as a yardstick for assessing the possibility of the ‘good life’ and for evaluating the pressing reality of the ‘wrong life’. To be clear, Reckwitz values the significant contributions that Rosa has made to social theory. At the same time, the former accuses the latter of failing to grasp the fragility, arbitrariness, and potential mistakenness of the first-person perspective. Indeed, he reminds Rosa that he is obliged to take on the perspective of the observer (and, by implication, a third-person perspective) to establish whether or not, in particular cases, we are dealing with ‘real’ forms of resonance. In order to be able to make a judgement of this sort, Rosa needs a stable criterion for the ‘good life’. Otherwise, he would be at the mercy of the arbitrariness of the subjective perspective.¹⁸⁸

In response to this objection, Rosa, while acknowledging that this is a contentious point, maintains that he can solve this problem.¹⁸⁹ To accomplish this, he posits that it is vital to combine the two aforementioned perspectives: on the one hand, the first-person perspective, associated with the paradigms of understanding, empathy, immersion, experience, and subjectivity; on the other hand, the third-person perspective, associated with the paradigms of explanation, measurement, distance, analysis, and objectivity.

Resonance and alienation (along with other key dimensions of human life) can be conceived of as both a ‘subjective experience’ and an ‘objective social relationship’. In order to obtain a sociologically comprehensive picture, we need to take both sides into account.¹⁹⁰ Thus, Rosa remains ‘methodologically committed to this “perspectival dualism”’:¹⁹¹

Only from the first-person perspective is it possible to understand what a resonant experience is, but whether or not we are dealing with a resonant relationship can, in principle, (also) [sic] be determined, perhaps even measured, from the third-person perspective.¹⁹²

A representative of critical theory, Rosa studies modernity in terms of fundamental tensions – such as alienation vs. resonance, controllability vs. uncontrollability, and domination vs. emancipation – by pursuing a biperspectival approach. An advocate of critical analytics, Reckwitz studies modernity in terms of fundamental tensions – such as opening of contingency vs. closing of contingency, rationalization vs. culturalization, and progress vs. loss – by pursuing a genealogical approach.

Reflecting on the purpose of ‘critical analytics’¹⁹³ in general and ‘genealogical reconstruction’¹⁹⁴ in particular, Reckwitz concedes that, ‘even if, avowedly, [he] advocate[s] a non-normative theory, a residual normativism [Restnormativismus] remains’¹⁹⁵ within his conceptual framework. Paradoxically, then, Reckwitz’s non-normative theory comprises a lingering degree of subjacent normativism. Grappling with the ‘ambivalence of modernity’,¹⁹⁶ however, Reckwitz insists that modernity is far from static and that its inner tensions keep shifting. Critical analytics, therefore, is a social-scientific endeavour dealing with ‘moving targets [sic]’¹⁹⁷ and, hence, with objects of study that have to be constantly rediscovered and redefined. ‘Since history changes, critique has to change with it’.¹⁹⁸ The point is not just to change the world but also to adjust the critical analysis by which transformative ambitions are guided in accordance with one’s understanding of continuously evolving sets of circumstances.

13. Multiperspectival Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a multiperspectival sociology.¹⁹⁹ They differ, however, in terms of how they seek to defend such a multiperspectival outlook. In Reckwitz’s view, Rosa’s concept of resonance serves two key functions. First, as an analytic concept, it is used to provide a systematic account of the extent to which social reality is divided into (a) horizontal, (b) diagonal, and (c) vertical – that is, (a) social/normative, (b) material/purposive, and (c) existential/projective – axes of resonance, also referred to as spheres of resonance.²⁰⁰ Second, as an evaluative concept, it is used to equip critical theory with a yardstick for making judgements about the constitution of particular sets of social relations – including not only the structures and practices by which they are sustained but also the individual and collective experiences and interpretations without which they would remain meaningless.

In this context, Reckwitz makes reference to a criticism frequently levelled at Rosa’s understanding of resonance: arguably, the mass gatherings organized by the Nazis (and those organized by other totalitarian regimes) were ‘rich in resonance’ – that is, they were resonance-laden events.²⁰¹ As illustrated in these large-scale rallies, ‘fascism is not a rational event’;²⁰² rather, it is a movement that ‘functions via affect [Affizierung]’.²⁰³ If we use the first-person perspective as a yardstick for a critical theory of resonance, then we have a major problem on our hands: those who attended the mass gatherings of the Nazis might say that they experienced these events as oases of resonance.²⁰⁴ Indeed, even from the allegedly ‘objective’ and ‘detached’ third-person perspective of the cameras that recorded these occasions, the ‘sparkling eyes’²⁰⁵ of those resonance-experiencing attendees of Nazi rallies are hard to overlook.

Rosa admits that his theory of resonance faces some serious problems if it can be applied to collectively experienced dynamics of support for National Socialism – and, more generally, for populist, authoritarian, and totalitarian movements. In response to this line of criticism, Rosa proposes to draw a distinction between resonance and echo,²⁰⁶ arguing that the aforementioned gatherings are marked by the latter, rather than the former.

As Reckwitz notes, Rosa’s defence means that, effectively, we need to differentiate between ‘real’, ‘genuine’, and ‘authentic’ resonance [Realresonanz], on the one hand, and ‘false’, ‘fake’, and ‘inauthentic’ resonance [Scheinresonanz], on the other.²⁰⁷ In methodological terms, this means that the first-person perspective (of the participants) needs to be combined – and, potentially, contrasted – with the third-person perspective (of the observers) to make an informed judgement about the normative quality and moral defensibility of an action, situation, and/or constellation.

In his follow-up response to this serious objection, Rosa posits that, according to his definition, resonance comprises four central elements: (a) affect [Affizierung], (b) self-efficacy, (c) transformation, and (d) openness vis-à-vis the outcome, implying acceptance of uncontrollability [Unverfügbarkeit].²⁰⁸ On this view, in order for ‘proper’ resonance to occur, all four criteria have to be met.²⁰⁹ Rosa argues that, in the case of fascist mass gatherings, at least three of these four elements are missing and, hence, they do not qualify as ‘resonance-laden’ or ‘resonance-conducive’. Challenging Reckwitz’s insistence upon the purported need to combine – and, if these two levels of engagement are misaligned, to contrast – the first-person perspective (of the participants) with the third-person perspective (of the observers), Rosa goes a step further by suggesting the following: when considering the large amounts of ressentiment, aggression, and anger conveyed by right-wing populists, it becomes clear that – including from the first-person perspective – we are not dealing with the ‘good life’, even (or especially) if there are ‘sparkling eyes of hatred everywhere’²¹⁰ among those directly involved in and contributing to the retrograde dynamics in question.

The key question arising from the previous reflections is whether or not it makes sense to differentiate between ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ resonance.²¹¹ If so, it would be erroneous to define ‘resonance’ as something that is ‘inherently good’, let alone as ‘the good’.²¹² Reckwitz maintains that Rosa’s approach involves a two-step process: resonant relationships to the world can be empirically observed and, subsequently, classified as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ in terms of their respective normative quality.²¹³ Rosa, while acknowledging the importance of the first step, remains unconvinced by the validity of the proposed second step and opposed to the idea of ‘introducing an additional ethical criterion of evaluation’.²¹⁴ Without diving into the details of the philosophical complexities attached to the project of developing an ‘ethics of resonance’,²¹⁵ Rosa rejects the notion that ‘affects such as hatred, umbrage, and the desire to kill’²¹⁶ can be categorized as genuine forms of resonance.

Questioning the validity of Rosa’s line of argument, Reckwitz makes two further points.²¹⁷ First, resonant relationships are one thing, whereas ideas about the ‘good life’ are something else. Different thinkers – and, more generally, different people – have different conceptions of the ‘good life’. In other words, perspectival pluralism is built into the human condition, including disputes over whether or not emancipatory forms of life are not only possible but also desirable and, if so, on what grounds. Second, in terms of their perceptions and interpretations, participants and observers may converge or diverge. While participants may regard particular actions and constellations as ‘acceptable’, if not ‘good’ or ‘desirable’, observers – notably those making judgements drawing on social, political, and/or moral philosophy – may find these ‘problematic’, if not ‘bad’ and ‘objectionable’. More generally, however, Reckwitz posits that Rosa’s approach suffers from the same self-imposed limitation as Habermas’s discourse ethics: namely, ‘the desire to create clear conditions, under the suppression of paradoxes’,²¹⁸ contradictions, and frictions. Yet, their presence is obvious to anyone immersed in the construction and experience of everyday life. On this account, the search for an ‘ideal speech situation’²¹⁹ à la Habermas is as pointless as the search for an ‘ideal resonance situation’²²⁰ à la Rosa.

Rosa admits that his theoretical enterprise presupposes a convergence between the participant’s first-person perspective and the observer’s third-person perspective – a convergence that is based on a sort of ‘normative positioning’.²²¹ Furthermore, he concedes that this purported convergence can be called into question from both perspectives – notably in relation to the question of what qualifies, or fails to qualify, as a resonance-laden experience of, and/or relationship to, the world. The moment someone’s voice is being silenced (for instance, due to classism, racism, sexism, ageism, and/or ableism), however, we are confronted with ‘numbness towards resonance [Resonanztaubheit]’.²²² This theme applies not only to human rights ethics but also – as he remarks – to animal rights ethics, since both normative frameworks are fundamentally opposed to the silencing of another being’s voice and their respective desire for, if not right to, resonance. For both Reckwitz and Rosa, then, the pursuit of a multiperspectival sociology presents a major challenge.

14. Holistic Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a holistic sociology.²²³ In essence, this means that both examine the intimate relationship between (a) social order, (b) social reproduction, and (c) social transformation. In other words, they are concerned with (a) the constitution and possibility, (b) the relative stability and continuity, and (c) the malleability and changeability of social constellations.

Reckwitz spells out that he is particularly interested in the third dimension, which he describes as ‘the Foucault-problem’ – that is, the question of how to make sense of the transition from one socio-historical formation to another.²²⁴ Applied to the contemporary era, we need to recognize that, at some point, one particular version of modernity is exhausted, notably when it is being perceived as so ‘deficient’, ‘flawed’, ‘contradictory’, and/or ‘tension-laden’ that new movements of critique and innovative trends start to emerge and, eventually, trigger ‘a fundamental transformation’,²²⁵ resulting in a new ‘order of things’.²²⁶ To illustrate this point, one may refer to the rise of cultural capitalism, the digitalization of society, and substantial changes in social stratification patterns (in Reckwitz’s case) or to new types and unprecedented degrees of growth, acceleration, and innovation (in Rosa’s case).

Alternatively, one may scrutinize the constitution, reproduction, and transformation of key sociological (and intersectionally defined) variables – notably class, ethnicity, gender, age, and (dis)ability. Once these are no longer codified in binary terms, we will witness an opening of contingency. Crucially, however, such an opening immediately leads to new closures of contingency. When this occurs, the new (normative) order needs to be renegotiated, re-arranged, and redefined.²²⁷ Once this new (normative) order has settled, the whole process will start again at the next major point of crisis. Human history, in other words, is marked by the constant back-and-forth between opening and closure – a dialectic that is built into the very fabric of social life. In this respect, Rosa’s central hypothesis is that ‘the need to render contingency controllable’²²⁸ is not only built into but also driving this process. It is shattered, however, the moment the seemingly controllable turns out to be contingent and, at the next stage of development, uncontrollable. Put differently, the need to render contingency controllable [Verfügbarmachung von Kontingenz] is central to social development, just as the need to render controllability contingent [Kontingentierung von Verfügbarkeit] is vital to human emancipation. The social whole is inconceivable without the confluence of generative, reproductive, and transformative dynamics.

15. Multifactorial Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a multifactorial sociology.²²⁹ Reflecting on the nature of social developments, Reckwitz posits that there is ‘no single overarching mechanism’²³⁰ behind major historical transformations but, rather, a confluence of ‘historically contingent factors’.²³¹ Thus, when grappling with social change and/or epochal transitions, there is never ‘one single mechanism that explains how to get from A to B’.²³² Although, broadly speaking, Reckwitz and Rosa share this approach, the latter’s ‘explanatory claims are much stronger’²³³ than those made by the former. Reckwitz questions the validity of ‘high-level causal-explanatory claims’²³⁴ – even in relation to his own historical narrative concerning the succession of ‘bourgeois’, ‘industrial’, and ‘late’ modernity. Rosa, by contrast, defends the thesis that ‘the history of modernity and of modern society in toto can be explained in terms of the fundamental mechanisms of dynamic stabilization’.²³⁵

His emphasis on the transformative power derived from the mechanism of ‘dynamic stabilization’ notwithstanding, Rosa supports the notion of an ‘irreducible dualism’,²³⁶ which – according to him – is different from Marxian and Durkheimian theory in that it aims to explain both the structural and the cultural dimensions of social existence.²³⁷ For Rosa, it would be reductive to define modernity exclusively in terms of systemically constituted mechanisms of increase [Steigerung] – based on growth, acceleration, and innovation – with an escalatory tendency. Such an approach would provide a static account, incapable of explaining historical changes, let alone the periods they bring about. Crucially, what is missing from such a short-sighted perspective is ‘the energetic principle’²³⁸ – that is, an understanding of the social energy driving human agency. This concept – which, in his current work, has become a bit of a ‘new hobby horse’²³⁹ for Rosa – is central to explaining how behavioural, ideological, and institutional modes of functioning can innovate or accelerate in the first place. Arguably, ‘subjects and their motivational energies […] follow a different, a cultural, logic’,²⁴⁰ which, owing to its hermeneutic constitution, is irreducible to a set of systemic or structural imperatives. For Rosa, every social formation is defined by ‘the interplay between structural mechanisms and cultural motivational moments’.²⁴¹ Although there is – paradoxically – both an elective affinity [Wahlverwandtschaft] and a fundamental tension between them, they do not determine each other.²⁴²

An obvious question that arises in this context is how much causal power Rosa attributes to culture in his analysis of modern society.²⁴³ The answer to this question is far from straightforward, since Rosa seeks to avoid both culturalist interpretations of the social and epiphenomenalist interpretations of the cultural.²⁴⁴ Drawing on Charles Taylor,²⁴⁵ Rosa posits that it is important to recognize that ‘self-interpretation is fundamental’²⁴⁶ to any social formation but without falling into the trap of ‘excessive cognitivism’,²⁴⁷ which – as in the works of Kantian and Habermasian philosophers – overstates the role of reason and understates the role of affects and, more generally, the body. Hence, Rosa is wary of the concept of ‘world picture’ [Weltbild], given its narrow focus on cognitive, symbolic, and ideological dimensions. Instead, he prefers to explore ‘world conditions’ [Weltverhältnisse] and ‘relationships to the world’ [Weltbeziehungen], which – since they involve not only cognitive and rational but also affective and bodily dimensions – exert a significant degree of ‘causal power’.²⁴⁸

16. Immersive-Relational Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for an immersive-relational sociology.²⁴⁹ Rosa, in a neo-Heideggerian fashion, explores different ‘ways of being-in-the-world [Weisen des In-der-Welt-Seins]’²⁵⁰ and, in a neo-Hegelian fashion, contends that ‘[n]o theory can be abstracted from its own relationality and situatedness, that is, from its attachment to precisely the kind of historically developed object that it observes in a methodologically disciplined manner’.²⁵¹ In other words, Rosa’s conception of the social is predicated on a processual understanding of relationality:

What social entities become and are, how they are related to each other, and how their constellations change is, in my view, part of the process, of the implementation, which constitutes the social in its relationality.²⁵²

While Rosa does not seek to paint a pristine picture of human relations founded on socio-ontological idealism, he rejects the kind of ‘antagonistic social ontology’²⁵³ that is common across the political spectrum – on the left, in terms of collective struggles due to structural inequalities, and, on the right, in terms of politics as a continuation of war by other means. Rosa repudiates, in particular, the Schmittean notion that ‘we, as social subjects, stand in an antagonistic or agonal relationship to one another’²⁵⁴ and tend to act as ‘utility-maximizers’.²⁵⁵

Similar to Reckwitz, Rosa insists on the contingency of social relations: ‘[h]ow social actors are related to each other – for instance, co-operatively or confrontationally or competitively – is not an anthropological or ontological question but an element of historically variable world conditions [Weltverhältnisse]’.²⁵⁶ On this account, the interplay between co-operative and competitive dynamics is not a question of ‘human nature’ but, rather, a question of the historically variable settings in which actors are situated.

In a Wittgensteinian spirit, Reckwitz affirms that ‘language games’ cannot be dissociated from the ‘forms of life’ in which they are played.²⁵⁷ The relations between words express relations between those who use them (and vice versa). In a Heideggerian spirit, Reckwitz asserts that ‘being’ and ‘time’ cannot be divorced from each other – that is, modes of existence cannot be abstracted from the historical contexts in which they are embedded.²⁵⁸ In brief, we cannot relate to the world unless we immerse ourselves in it, and we cannot immerse ourselves in the world unless we relate to it.

17. Interpretive Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for an interpretive sociology.²⁵⁹ Drawing on Hubert L. Dreyfus,²⁶⁰ Rosa shares the hermeneutic view that ‘[w]e are interpretation all the way down’.²⁶¹ In accordance with the paradigm of understanding [Verstehen],²⁶² he insists that there are ‘no categories or conceptual apparatuses’²⁶³ that can be constructed without ‘the act of interpretation’.²⁶⁴ As meaning-projecting entities, humans are constantly involved in the business of interpretation.²⁶⁵ In a philosophical sense, they ‘seek to answer the question of what it means to be human or an acting entity’,²⁶⁶ capable of making informed decisions when confronted with different choices. Inspired by Maurice Merleau-Ponty,²⁶⁷ Rosa stresses that humans are ‘always placed in a world [stets in eine Welt gestellt], or directed towards the world, and they are obliged to interpret themselves and this world’.²⁶⁸ In other words, they are immersed in, attribute meaning to, and act upon the objective, normative, and subjective dimensions of their existence.

Our self-interpretations, however, are never purely individual enterprises but always also collective endeavours, expressed in ‘strong evaluations’.²⁶⁹ In accordance with Rosa’s holistic conception of human existence, it is important to recognize that we mobilize these ‘strong evaluations’ not only cognitively but also affectively when establishing a meaning-laden relationship to the world. Rosa regards both phenomena as universal: just as the act of interpreting is an integral part of human life, so is the fact that interpretations are value-laden and comprise strong evaluations. ‘Acting humans are always and everywhere self-interpreting beings’.²⁷⁰ Their interpretations manifest themselves in relatively solidified sets of assumptions and beliefs, which may be described as ‘strong evaluations’. Rosa acknowledges that ‘these are [his] two transhistorical propositions’.²⁷¹

Since Rosa conceives of humans as ‘self-interpreting creatures’, his sociology is motivated by ‘anti-naturalist motives’.²⁷² Yet, Rosa’s anti-naturalism, far from being a merely epistemological undertaking, has a strong societal component, in the sense that it is ‘directed against a techno-scientific civilization’,²⁷³ whose ‘background metaphysics’²⁷⁴ consists in getting rid of all ‘unscientific’ modes of interpretation and replacing them with physicalist descriptions of all world realities [Weltwirklichkeiten].²⁷⁵

Arguably, this anti-naturalist outlook is no less pronounced in Reckwitz’s sociology of practice. As such, it is also opposed to the naturalist reduction of action to behaviour and of subjectivity to a set of neurological dispositions. Reckwitz and Rosa share this ‘culture-theoretic and interpretive orientation’.²⁷⁶ As Reckwitz spells out, the key thinkers upon whose works he draws to develop this angle are (the later) Ludwig Wittgenstein²⁷⁷ and Martin Heidegger²⁷⁸ (at the philosophical level) as well as Pierre Bourdieu,²⁷⁹ Anthony Giddens,²⁸⁰ and Theodore R. Schatzki²⁸¹ (at the sociological level). A key objective of his practice theory is to overcome ‘classical dualisms’,²⁸² such as structure vs. agency and materialism vs. culturalism.²⁸³ Practices have a corporeal dimension, as illustrated in the central role played by intuitive, unreflective, and embodied knowledge when human actors navigate the world. Our bodies, however, are constantly interacting with and/or acting upon ‘artefacts’, without whose material constitution the emergence of practices would be unthinkable.

Attempts at enlarging the theory of practice in the direction of ‘artefacts’ have been made by prominent scholars such as Bruno Latour²⁸⁴ and Theodore R. Schatzki.²⁸⁵ The inquiry into different ways of ‘fabricating’ or ‘assembling’ the social lies at the core of Reckwitz’s recent work, notably in relation to the concept of the ‘hybrid subject’.²⁸⁶ Such an approach moves away from a philosophical engagement with ‘the self’ and, instead, seeks to explore the socio-ontological significance of ‘doing subject’ dynamics. Reckwitz’s sociology, therefore, sheds light on ‘the fabrication and self-fabrication [Verfertigung und Selbstverfertigung] of the subject as both corporeality and mentality’²⁸⁷ – that is, on the performative constitution of human existence.

18. Multilevel Sociology

Both Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for a multilevel sociology.²⁸⁸ Reckwitz draws a distinction between ‘social theory’ [Sozialtheorie] and ‘theory of society’ [Gesellschaftstheorie].

Sozialtheorie equips us with a basic vocabulary, permitting us to make sense of ‘the social’, including the elements by which it is sustained: actions, interactions, practices, norms, communication, and power – to mention only a few.²⁸⁹ Here, the question of how social order is possible takes centre stage. Unsurprisingly, this question can be approached from different angles: in Hobbesian terms (social atomism),²⁹⁰ Parsonian terms (sociological functionalism),²⁹¹ Luhmannian terms (systems theory),²⁹² Derridean terms (poststructuralism),²⁹³ or Husserlian terms (phenomenology).²⁹⁴ According to Reckwitz, since the 1970s, new approaches in social theory have emerged, providing valuable insights into ‘the temporality of the social’ and shifting the focus from social reproduction to social transformation. Particularly important in this respect is the tension between tradition, repetition, and habitualization, on the one hand, and change, variation, and innovation, on the other.²⁹⁵

Gesellschaftstheorie, by contrast, ‘problematizes societies in their concrete historicity’.²⁹⁶ It ‘makes claims about the difference between traditional and modern societies’.²⁹⁷ Such a historicist approach transitions from a somewhat rigid ‘science of order’ to a ‘theory of the movement of social life’.²⁹⁸ As part of its attempt at providing an explanatory framework for the ‘temporalization of the social’, it avoids the use of natural-scientific conceptions of time, notably those based on Newtonian mechanics.²⁹⁹

Thus, there is a division of labour between a systematic (and systematizing) Sozialtheorie and a historical (and historicizing) Gesellschaftstheorie.³⁰⁰ Within the realm of Sozialtheorie, two basic questions are addressed: at the socio-ontological level, ‘What is the social?’ and, at the socio-epistemological level, ‘With what kind of conceptual repertoire can the social be observed and understood as a temporalized becoming?’.³⁰¹ Within the realm of Gesellschaftstheorie, one of the key intellectual reference points is Hegel, who can be credited with offering a sophisticated approach for ‘temporalizing the social’.³⁰² Indeed, ‘the becoming of the social itself’³⁰³ has generated concepts and methods capable of studying this process and converting it into a ‘specific object of a sociological theory of modernity’.³⁰⁴

According to Reckwitz, while we need basic concepts from Sozialtheorie to make contributions to Gesellschaftstheorie, it is not possible to deduce a Gesellschaftstheorie from Sozialtheorie.³⁰⁵ Sozialtheorie can serve as an analytic tool when society [Gesellschaft] itself has changed. When this happens, however, it is necessary to revise one’s Gesellschaftstheorie to account for social transformation. Sozialtheorie serves as a ‘sensitizing instrument [sic]’³⁰⁶ by means of which not only certain ‘basic phenomena of the social can be made visible or invisible’³⁰⁷ but also particular sets of assumptions associated with a Gesellschaftstheorie may (or may not) be articulated. Reckwitz insists, however, that the relationship between Sozialtheorie and Gesellschaftstheorie represents a ‘relatively loose coupling’,³⁰⁸ with ‘no [mutual] determination’.³⁰⁹ For him, Sozialtheorien (such as rational choice theory, actor-network theory, practice theory, structuralism and neo-institutionalism) can provide the background to, and the conceptual tools for, Gesellschaftstheorien and Gesellschaftsanalysen (such as theories and analyses of capitalism).³¹⁰ Thus, it is possible to support the former’s understanding of ‘the social’ by virtue of the latter’s concern with ‘the societal’.

Rosa, however, is not convinced by Reckwitz’s distinction between Sozialtheorien and Gesellschaftstheorien. In his view, Sozialtheorien delimit the horizon of what can be articulated in terms of Gesellschaftstheorien. Rosa posits that it would be erroneous to talk of a ‘bridge’ between ‘the material’ and ‘the cultural’, since these two sides cannot be separated from one another. In Rosa’s view, one of the main problems with Reckwitz’s practice theory is that it refers to, and comprises, almost everything and nothing (body, space, time, sociality, knowledge, discourse, etc.), which makes it too elastic for a differentiated and contoured sociological analysis, based on clear selection criteria and assessment standards.³¹¹

In short, Rosa finds Reckwitz’s distinction between Sozialtheorie and Gesellschaftstheorie largely implausible – not least because, arguably, most approaches (from phenomenology to rational choice theory) can be constructed in both ways, depending on how they are being used. Reckwitz defends this distinction, however, by asserting that, in his own work, he conceives of ‘practice theory’ as a Gesellschaftstheorie, rather than a Sozialtheorie.³¹² Laying out his approach, he makes three key points:

1. The four elements of his outline – that is, discourses, affects, subjects, and forms of life/institutions – are meant to be not a simple ‘schema or finite sequence’³¹³ but, rather, a set of heuristic devices for a praxeological ‘working-through [Durcharbeiten]’³¹⁴ venture, whose main components are constantly being revised and reinterpreted.

2. The relationship between Sozialtheorie and Gesellschaftstheorie should not be conflated with the micro-vs.-macro debate; if anything, the discussion of this relationship should contribute to overcoming artificial and counterproductive dichotomies in the humanities and social sciences.³¹⁵ Practice theory – whether it focuses on ‘structures as rules and resources within space-time relations’ (Giddens),³¹⁶ on ‘the site of the social’ (Schatzki),³¹⁷ on ‘the rules of the game within a given social field’ (Bourdieu),³¹⁸ or on other aspects – should not be regarded as a toolbox of ‘universal ahistorical social-theoretic macro-concepts’.³¹⁹ In order to develop a theory of modern society, it is necessary to account for the ‘historical specificity of Western modernity’³²⁰ (and, by extension, for the historical specificities of non-Western modernities), which can be represented in ‘historically specific concepts’,³²¹ rather than in ahistorical and universal(ist) ones.

3. We should resist the temptation to derive a Gesellschaftstheorie from a Sozialtheorie. Such a methodological strategy gives the misleading impression that the former is parasitic upon the latter and that, by implication, these two types of theory are intimately intertwined. Arguably, this (mis)interpretation is at least partly due to the widespread fixation on authors and their major works, as captured in the idea of ‘theory as a system’.³²² In reality, most influential social theorists – notably the ‘founding figures’ of the discipline – have developed, engaged with, and made important contributions to both Sozialtheorie and Gesellschaftstheorie. This, however, does not apply to all prominent social theorists. For instance, one will be hard-pressed to find a Gesellschaftstheorie in Alfred Schütz’s writings³²³ or a Sozialtheorie in Ulrich Beck’s writings.³²⁴ And yet, it is common to read a kind of ‘systemic logic’ into an oeuvre in which Sozialtheorie and Gesellschaftstheorie may not be co-present, let alone intimately intertwined. Granted, in the frameworks proposed by some theorists – such as Luhmann and Habermas – this nexus is not only present but also crucial. When examining the works of ‘tool theoreticians’ such as Foucault and Latour, however, this reading does not apply. It is not the case, in other words, that Foucault’s interest in discourses and dispositifs (Sozialtheorie) leads to the idea of a disciplinary society (Gesellschaftstheorie) or Latour’s actor-network theory (Sozialtheorie) results in a theory of modes of existence (Gesellschaftstheorie). In Reckwitz’s view, the idea of conceiving of theory as ‘a tool’ opens up a horizon of new possibilities and combinations.³²⁵ In his estimation, useful examples of attempts at providing comprehensive Sozialtheorien are Giddens’s The Constitution of Society³²⁶ and Bourdieu’s Outline of a Theory of Practice.³²⁷ Although these studies occupy an important and legitimate place in the history of social theory, Reckwitz spells out that his own project is not aimed at developing a comprehensive Sozialtheorie, let alone a comprehensive Gesellschaftstheorie.³²⁸

Responding to Reckwitz’s claim that it is hard to find a clearly discernible Sozialtheorie in Rosa’s work, the latter stresses that, in his own writings, he has sought to cover both the structural and the agential dimensions of social life, thereby endorsing a form of ‘perspectival dualism’,³²⁹ which, arguably, is absent in the intellectual contributions made by the former. Rosa concedes that this is a challenging endeavour, which shares a strong anti-naturalism with Reckwitz’s enterprise.³³⁰ Rosa’s undertaking differs from the one pursued by Reckwitz, however, in that it aims to offer a ‘Best Account [sic]’³³¹ by drawing on insights not only from the humanities and social sciences but also from the natural sciences.³³² Be that as it may, the relationship between Sozialtheorie and Gesellschaftstheorie continues to represent a major source of controversy, not least because not everyone will accept the validity, let alone the usefulness, of this distinction.³³³

II.

Critical Remarks

1. Same Old, Same Old?

One important limitation of Reckwitz and Rosa’s dialogical reflections is that, while they contain several fruitful and original insights, in some respects they state the obvious and/or are based on arguments that have been made by numerous other scholars over the past centuries. Consider their – admittedly fine-grained – conception of sociology, as elucidated above: empirical, historical, processual, praxeological, periodizing, diagnostic, dialectical, contingent, high-resolution, epochal, evaluative, critical, multiperspectival, holistic, multifactorial, immersive-relational, interpretive, and multilevel. Granted, different approaches have different understandings of these modes of ‘doing’ sociology and commit to (or are opposed to) each of them in different ways and to different degrees. All of these programmatic specificities, however, have been on the agenda, in both affirmative and reflective terms, since sociology started to develop as a discipline. In this sense, Reckwitz and Rosa are grappling with age-old debates and controversies – especially with regard their conceptual, epistemological, theoretical, and methodological implications. Despite this legitimate reservation, it should be acknowledged that – as demonstrated above – Reckwitz and Rosa’s engagement with each other’s positions is both fruitful and original, insofar as it illustrates the need to combine and to cross-fertilize the aforementioned dimensions, thereby contributing to exposing the manifold difficulties arising from, and challenges involved in, the project of ‘doing’ social theory in the 21st century.

2. System Building against System Building?

A striking characteristic of the approaches proposed, respectively, by Reckwitz and Rosa is their highly systematic nature. Unsurprisingly, some commentators will be sympathetic, and others will be hostile, towards the extremely methodical and structured way in which the two sociologists present their ideas. It is ironic, to say the least, that both thinkers are suspicious of the kind of conceptual ‘system building’ associated with functionalist social theory, while, at the same time, offering remarkably systematic, if not schematic, approaches themselves.

Uncharitable critics may reject the somewhat rigid nature of Reckwitz’s tripartite models: (a) ‘the opening of contingency’ vs. ‘the closing of contingency’, (b) ‘the logic of rationalization’ vs. ‘the logic of culturalization’, and (c) ‘progress’ vs. ‘loss’ – (a) ‘the formation of order’ vs. ‘critique’, (b) ‘generalization’ vs. ‘singularization’, and (c) ‘future orientation and preference for the new’ vs. ‘coping with loss and historical legacy’ – (a) bourgeois modernity, (b) industrial modernity, and (c) late modernity – to mention only the most important ones.

In a similar vein, Rosa’s tripartite models may be regarded as suspiciously neat and compact: (a) analysis, (b) diagnosis, and (c) therapy – (a) dynamic stabilization, (b) desynchronization, and (c) adaptive stabilization – (a) expansion of our share of the world and controllability, (b) alienation, and (c) resonance – to which one may add the conceptualization of social change as a phenomenon that is (a) transgenerational, (b) intergenerational, and (c) intragenerational in (a) early, (b) industrial, and (c) late modernity.

In Reckwitz and Rosa’s defence, it can be said that scientific (including social-scientific) inquiry is inconceivable without the systematizing power of explanatory models and ideal types.³³⁴ This concession notwithstanding, their respective approaches suffer from explanatory reductionism to the degree that their highly systematic frameworks provide overly schematic models for grasping the complex constitution of society.

3. The End of Telos?

While Reckwitz and Rosa’s anti-teleological conception of history is largely convincing, it contains some problematic aspects.

First, Reckwitz’s reading of Hegelian or Marxist philosophy of history, according to which emancipatory processes will result in ‘a contradiction-free ending’,³³⁵ is based on a misinterpretation. A dialectical understanding of social development – with a strong emphasis on the role of ideas (in the case of Hegel) or material forces (in the case of Marx) – suggests that history is a fundamentally open process. For Marx, communism is not ‘a contradiction-free ending’ but – even if, at this historical stage, the antagonism between two diametrically opposed social classes may have been resolved – a ceaseless movement of contradictions and tensions.³³⁶

Second, although the notion of ‘progress’ plays a pivotal role in their respective theoretical frameworks, one finds little in the way of a differentiated understanding of this concept in their dialogical exchange. A more nuanced account, capable of distinguishing between different types of progress, is needed.³³⁷ Among the types of progress that are particularly relevant to their analysis are the following: social progress, moral progress, cultural progress, political progress, economic progress, organizational progress, scientific progress, technological progress, and – more generally – civilizational progress. It is hard to see how it is possible to pursue the project of developing a cutting-edge social theory in the 21st century unless one is prepared not only to identify crucial forms of progress but also to examine the degree to which these are interrelated (and may compete with, or contradict, each other) within and across societies.

Third, although Reckwitz and Rosa’s critique of teleological thinking is broadly persuasive, both authors appear to be flirting with postmodern accounts of history,³³⁸ albeit unwittingly. More specifically, they seem to subscribe to the notion that a striking feature of human history is contingency – a view that, in its postmodern version, is based on the following assumptions:³³⁹

1. historical developments are intrinsically ephemeral and always relatively arbitrary (historical lawlessness);

2. historical developments are open and, hence, largely unpredictable (historical unpredictability);

3. historical developments are neither progressive nor regressive, but rather chaotic, irregular, and incoherent (historical nonlinearity);

4. historical developments are not subject to a conscious or unconscious all-encompassing purpose and, in this sense, are not aimed at fulfilling the mission of bringing humanity gradually closer to an overarching or transcendental goal (historical directionlessness); and

5. historical developments are composed of a plurality of irreducible and context-dependent realities (historical particularity).

To be clear, this is not to claim that Reckwitz and Rosa make a case for postmodernism, let alone that they are postmodernists. This is to recognize, however, that their anti-teleological conception of history concurs with at least some of the aforementioned presuppositions, which are central to postmodern thought, notably its ‘incredulity towards metanarratives’.³⁴⁰

In principle, there is nothing wrong with radical scepticism about, if not incredulity towards, metanarratives. Such a position, however, needs to be defended in a rigorous fashion and, thus, on the basis of persuasive arguments.³⁴¹ Perhaps the way forward is to acknowledge that, in practice, different historical developments taking place in different (that is, spatiotemporally specific) contexts and at different (that is, ontologically variable) levels are subject to different degrees and different types of determinacy and indeterminacy. If this is the case, then historical developments occur on a spectrum between (a) lawlessness and lawfulness, (b) unpredictability and predictability, (c) nonlinearity and linearity, (d) directionlessness and teleology, and (e) particularity and universality. In other words, rather than presupposing that historical developments are an expression of mere determinacy or, alternatively, an expression of mere indeterminacy, a nuanced account of historicity needs to explore the continuum of (real or imagined) possibilities permeating the multiple paths taken by, and impacting upon, all forms of existence worthy of being regarded as carriers of agency.

4. From the Contingency of Universality to the Universality of Contingency (and Back Again)?

In their attempt to grasp the relationship between contingent and universal features of social life, both Reckwitz and Rosa tend to favour the former over the latter. This does not mean, however, that they deny the importance, let alone the existence, of both the former and the latter. After all, they aim to shed light on the degree to which historical formations, such as modernity, are viable only if they are capable of both particularizing and generalizing key elements of human existence. Indeed, if Reckwitz and Rosa subscribed to a tabula rasa conception of the human condition, it would be hard, if not impossible, for them to substantiate the view that we are essentially cultural beings (in the case of Reckwitz) or resonance-seeking beings (in the case of Rosa). Reckwitz’s three fields of tension [Spannungsfelder] may be regarded as ‘universal’ and ‘transhistorical’ if these can be found in all, rather than exclusively modern, social formations. Rosa’s assumption that humans are always and everywhere self-interpreting beings, capable of living their lives in accordance with strong evaluations, is an unambiguously ‘universal’ and ‘transhistorical’ proposition.

A significant limitation of their respective perspectives, however, is that they fail to explore the relationship between contingent and universal features of social life by bridging the gap between academic disciplines across the humanities, social sciences, and natural sciences. They may resist the idea of providing an anthropological, let alone evolutionary, account of vital components of human existence. Any attempt at developing a cutting-edge social theory that does not engage with the constitution, evolution, and functions of the species-constitutive features of the human condition, however, will struggle to grasp the characteristics shared by all forms of life, irrespective of their spatiotemporally variable specificities. The ‘interest in the self-preservation of the species’³⁴² is not just some kind of fictitious narrative, reducible to an ideological facet of Darwinian science or Schopenhauerian philosophy; rather, it lies at the heart of the reproductive logic of any – including the human – species. If, in a postmodern or poststructuralist fashion, we assume that the only transhistorical feature of humanity is its historicity, then we fail to understand that humans are not infinitely malleable and that they carry the baggage of their genealogy in their bodies.³⁴³

5. Beyond Reason?

Both Reckwitz and Rosa appear to be dissatisfied with Kantian and Habermasian accounts of the human condition in general and reason in particular. Reckwitz rejects what he describes as an ‘anthropological conception of contingency’,³⁴⁴ according to which the arrival of Homo sapiens on the historical stage is inextricably linked to the emergence of free will. In a similar vein, Rosa, given his insistence on the embodied constitution of resonance-seeking subjects,³⁴⁵ dismisses a rationalist understanding of development, according to which reason – regardless of whether it is defined in terms of ‘transcendental idealism’ (à la Kant)³⁴⁶ or ‘universal pragmatics’ (à la Habermas)³⁴⁷ – is the decisive anthropological force, which raises us out of nature and guides our actions. Even if, however, one is sympathetic towards Reckwitz’s critical analytics (notably its emphasis on culture, contingency, and history) and/or Rosa’s critical theory (notably its concern with resonance, alienation, and social energy), it is hard to deny the game-changing role of reason and rationality in the evolution of humanity,³⁴⁸ which cannot be undone by the most radical exercise in genealogy.

6. No Escape from Instrumental Rationality?

An important theme in the works of both Reckwitz and Rosa is the role played by technology in shaping the modern world. Reckwitz highlights the logic of permanent expansion, which is inherent in capitalism, and the increasing digitalization of society, which is a relatively recent phenomenon. Rosa stresses the extent to which modernity is permeated by attempts at making the world controllable [Verfügbarmachung von Welt], resulting in the emergence of a techno-scientific civilization. One would be hard-pressed to find any contemporary sociologist disagreeing with Reckwitz and Rosa’s emphasis on the powerful influence of technology on the development of modern society, epitomized in humanity’s pursuit of controllability. The problem with this analysis, however, is that it is essentially a rehash of a well-rehearsed argument of modern sociology and philosophy – namely, the insight that an increasing number of both systemic and experiential spheres in modern society are characterized by the preponderance of instrumental rationality.

In late-20th-century critical theory, this view is expressed in the earlier Habermas’s contention that the ‘empirical-analytic sciences’³⁴⁹ are driven by the ‘technical cognitive interest’³⁵⁰ in producing ‘predictive knowledge’,³⁵¹ enabling us to provide more and more accurate explanations about, and to gain an ever-increasing control over, key elements of the physical world. In addition, it is conveyed in the later Habermas’s ‘colonization thesis’,³⁵² which posits that our lifeworlds are being colonized by the functionalist rationality of the system, notably by the administrative logic of state bureaucratization and the profit-maximizing logic of market competition. Similar lines of argument about the prevalence of instrumental rationality in modern society can be found in a variety of Marxist and Weberian approaches.³⁵³ The crucial question, however, is to what extent the predominance of instrumental rationality can (or cannot) be mitigated in a way that is both individually and collectively empowering.

7. Critical Analytics à la Reckwitz?

At the core of Reckwitz’s ‘practice theory’ lies his defence of a ‘critical analytics’. Arguably, this approach, as defined by Reckwitz, suffers from several limitations.

First, since it lacks any solid normative foundations, it is not clear on what grounds it can distinguish between desirable and undesirable, legitimate and illegitimate, acceptable and unacceptable, empowering and disempowering, emancipatory and repressive, resonant and alienating social relations. Moreover, it is not obvious for what reason(s), with respect to each of these oppositions, the former should be preferred to the latter. Given its absence of explicit normative foundations, Reckwitz’s critical analytics is in danger of succumbing to moral, political, and epistemic relativism.

Second, Reckwitz’s claim that ‘this type of critical analysis […] does not evaluate itself but lets the analysis speak for itself’³⁵⁴ is, at best, questionable or, at worst, untenable. Like any other social theorist (irrespective of whether they conceive of their endeavour as normative or not), Reckwitz has to make assumptions – which, so to speak, he ‘brings to the table’ – when examining particular aspects of reality. Put differently, there is no inductive method that is not also deductive (and vice versa). Every form of analysis – indeed, every attempt at representing, comprehending, and explaining the world – hinges on our capacity to embark on an epistemic commute between the presuppositions underlying our understanding (whether these be implicit or explicit, hidden or overt, unconscious or conscious) and the object of reflection in relation to which our cognitive resources are mobilized. In short, ‘[t]he normativity of the perspective changes the descriptibility of the object’.³⁵⁵

Third, nobody would seriously disagree with Reckwitz’s statement that ‘it is important for sociology to be willing to let itself be surprised by new phenomena’.³⁵⁶ In fact, a critical engagement with the present, including the numerous old and new phenomena by which it is constituted, is the raison d’être of sociology as a discipline. The more interesting and noteworthy part of this proposition is Reckwitz’s follow-up specification – namely, that one should seek to comprehend these phenomena ‘without proceeding from a pre-given normative grid of analysis’.³⁵⁷ The problem with this qualification, however, is that – as noted above – there is no such thing as a ‘non-normative mode of analysis’: all forms of knowledge production are context-laden, value-laden, meaning-laden, perspective-laden, interest-laden, power-laden, and tension-laden.³⁵⁸ The (hermeneutic) challenge consists in making one’s (largely implicit) background horizon of presuppositions explicit, thereby highlighting the extent to which it shapes one’s perception and interpretation of the world.³⁵⁹

Fourth, Reckwitz is right to draw attention to the substantial shortcomings of mono-paradigmatic approaches. Indeed, the pursuit of ‘normative monism’,³⁶⁰ according to which one particular paradigm – such as ‘communicative action’ (Habermas), ‘recognition’ (Honneth), ‘justification’ (Forst), ‘forms of life’ (Jaeggi), or ‘resonance’ (Rosa) – can be regarded as a meta-criterion of the good life is problematic, not only because various other dimensions may be essential to the construction of society in general and the possibility of human emancipation in particular, but also because a paradigm-focused enterprise may result in explanatory reductionism, which prevents those subscribing to it from grasping the relevance and complexity of additional (and potentially new) phenomena. While one may broadly sympathize with Reckwitz’s critique of mono-paradigmatic frameworks, one should qualify his line of argument by acknowledging that he overstates his case. To begin with, not all critical theories are motivated by the pursuit of ‘normative monism’, let alone by the ambition to provide ‘normative foundations’ for their social diagnosis.³⁶¹ Furthermore, most mono-paradigmatic frameworks are not only far more nuanced and multilayered than Reckwitz seems to concede, but, in order to stand the test of time, most of them are constantly being revised and updated – not only by their creators but also by their advocates. Habermas, whom Reckwitz mentions in this context, is a case in point. Habermas’s work covers a large variety of themes: the public sphere, knowledge, language, morality, ethics, evolution, legitimation, democracy, religion, and modernity – to mention only a few.³⁶² Admittedly, Habermas explores each of these topics from a communication-theoretic perspective. Yet, he does not reduce all social phenomena to epiphenomena of communicative action; rather, he studies them from different theoretical, methodological, and empirical angles. Key concepts and paradigms should be treated as heuristic devices, rather than as dogmas or static reference points for catch-all explanations.³⁶³

Fifth, Reckwitz’s definition of a ‘critical analytics’ is vague and unoriginal: the deconstruction of seemingly self-evident truths; the historicization of putative universals, including the elucidation of their contingent constitution; the questioning of received wisdom and official representations; the uncovering of agential and structural logics operating ‘behind people’s backs’; the interpretivist and relationalist understanding of human reality, including the exposure of social and historical connections between ostensibly unrelated states of affairs – all of these elements are commonplace ingredients of teaching curricula and research agendas in contemporary sociology across the world.

Sixth, Reckwitz claims that his ‘critical analytics’ serves as an alternative framework, capable of overcoming the shortcomings of other approaches, especially those to which he is broadly sympathetic. The most obvious example in this respect is Boltanski’s sociology of critique. Reckwitz’s assertion, however, that Boltanski’s project focuses ‘completely on the participants’ perspective’³⁶⁴ needs to be qualified. In one way or another, most – if not all – of Boltanski’s writings are marked by his complicated relationship with the oeuvre of his intellectual mentor, Bourdieu. Arguably, his positions have varied from ‘Bourdieusian’ (1965–1980) and ‘anti-Bourdieusian’ (1980–2005) to ‘post-Bourdieusian’ and ‘neo-Bourdieusian’ (2005–present).³⁶⁵ In most of his major works, Boltanski has made a conscious attempt to combine the first-person perspective (of participants) with the third-person perspective (of observers). By doing so, he has sought to cross-fertilize micro-sociological and macro-sociological concerns, including the critique of power and domination.³⁶⁶ Far from subscribing to a pragmatist version of methodological individualism or a structuralist version of social holism, Boltanski – similar to Bourdieu – has sought to transcend the counterproductive antinomy between these two modes of analysis by drawing on insights from each of them. The perspective of the (detached) observer is no less important to Boltanski than that of the (immersed) participant. The key difference between Boltanski and Bourdieu, however, is that the former, unlike the latter, ascribes a large degree of reflexivity to ordinary actors, of whom he conceives as entities capable of navigating the social world by mobilizing their cognitive and evaluative resources derived from their critical and moral capacities.

Seventh, rather than conceiving of key elements of human life – such as creativity – as quasi-natural properties of humans,³⁶⁷ Reckwitz endorses ‘a genealogy of the social fabrication’³⁶⁸ of these performative components, emphasizing the ‘specific social and cultural contexts’³⁶⁹ in which practices, structures, and constellations are produced, reproduced, and transformed. The problem with this approach, however, is not only that it is not strikingly original (especially when considering the influence of Hegelian, Marxian, and Nietzschean approaches on the social sciences) but also that it does not resolve the fundamental tension between ‘the universal’ and ‘the particular’ (and, by implication, between ‘the transcendental’ and ‘the contingent’). Reckwitz may posit that he wishes to focus on the latter, rather than the former, but the antinomy persists.

8. Critical Theory à la Rosa?

At the core of Rosa’s ‘sociology of our relationship to the world’ lies his defence of a ‘critical theory’, notably in terms of the tension between resonance and alienation. Arguably, this undertaking, as defined by Rosa, suffers from several limitations.

First, Rosa’s contention that the central problem with previous versions of critical theory used to be that their ‘evaluative criteria’³⁷⁰ appeared to be ‘fixed’ and ‘irrefutable’ is questionable. The history of critical theory is marked by a large variety of competing approaches and paradigms, with both converging and diverging evaluative criteria.³⁷¹ Among the most influential ones are the following: Adorno’s theory of negative dialectics;³⁷² Habermas’s theory of communicative action;³⁷³ Honneth’s theory of recognition;³⁷⁴ Forst’s theory of justification;³⁷⁵ Saar’s theory of power;³⁷⁶ Jaeggi’s theory of forms of life;³⁷⁷ and, last but not least, Rosa’s theory of resonance.³⁷⁸ Of course, these paradigms, along with their respective evaluative criteria, serve as yardsticks for assessing the extent to which people are suffering from social pathologies.³⁷⁹ In terms of their social diagnosis, some of these frameworks may be regarded as ‘more on the optimistic side’ and others as ‘more on the pessimistic side’. And yet, it should be recognized that all of them emphasize the deep ambivalence that is built into the human condition, thereby facing up to the tension between its bright and its dark aspects and, hence, between its empowering and its disempowering dimensions. In addition, it is important to acknowledge that evaluative criteria keep changing and evolving – not only within the œuvre of a particular thinker and its development, which is based on the production of different ouvrages, but also between and across these œuvres and ouvrages. Thus, far from being ‘fixed’ and ‘irrefutable’, paradigms and evaluative criteria are constantly being questioned and revised.

Second, Rosa’s attempt to combine the first-person perspective of participants with the third-person perspective of observers is far from uncontroversial. In their dialogue, Reckwitz puts his finger on the main challenges arising from this dimension of Rosa’s endeavour. Regardless of whether these two perspectives are aligned or misaligned, there is no guarantee that they provide an accurate understanding of social reality in general and of the relationship between resonance and alienation in particular. Cases of interpretive misalignment are especially telling. What should critical theorists respond when ‘ordinary actors’ describe their enthusiastic participation in consumerist practices of late capitalism (or in authoritarian, populist, and/or fascist movements) as ‘resonant’? Some actions and experiences may be perceived as ‘resonant’ from a first-person perspective, but as ‘alienating’ from a third-person perspective (or vice versa). And even if the first-person perspective and the third-person perspective converge in terms of their interpretation of a particular action or experience, this does not mean that their respective accounts are ‘accurate’. It is far from clear, then, what kind of objective, normative, and/or subjective criteria can, or should, be used to establish whether or not specific actions and/or experiences qualify as ‘resonant’, ‘alienating’, or something else.

Third, Rosa is guided by ‘the conviction that theory emerges fundamentally from a critical impulse, namely from the feeling that something is not quite right, something is going wrong’.³⁸⁰ On this view, most sociological theories emanate from an ‘irritation or preoccupation’.³⁸¹ Their critical disposition is motivated by the assumption that ‘some self-descriptions that circulate in society are simply not true’.³⁸² This persuasion, however, undermines Rosa’s effort to ground his theoretical approach in both the third-person perspective and the first-person perspective, in the sense that it attributes more epistemic authority to the former than to the latter: the former can see through, whereas the latter is blinded by, the veil of common sense, received wisdom, doxa, and ideology. It is ironic, to say the least, that this asymmetrical divide is crucial to Rosa’s critical theory, given his ambition to avoid falling into the trap of epistemic paternalism based on a false sense of cognitive certainty. The point is not to deny that first-person accounts – including self-descriptions, descriptions of others, and descriptions of states of affairs – may be erroneous. Rather, the point is to recognize that third-person accounts, including scientific ones, can also be erroneous. Indeed, just as both first-person and third-person accounts can be inaccurate and misleading, both can be perceptive and insightful.

Fourth, building on the preceding remark, we need to draw a distinction between ordinary knowledge (generated and used by laypersons) and scientific knowledge (produced and employed by researchers and experts). Considering the distinction between ‘ordinary knowledge’ and ‘scientific knowledge’, we are confronted with three main options:³⁸³

• Option 1: The former is superior to the latter, because it is based on the ‘genuine’ (individual and/or collective) experiences made by human actors in ‘real life’. On this view, the former provides a degree of perspectival authenticity that the latter, due to its socially detached constitution, fails to embrace, let alone to convey.

• Option 2: The latter is superior to the former, because it is – at once – empirically substantiated, methodologically rigorous, epistemologically reflexive, terminologically precise, and theoretically informed. On this view, the latter guarantees a degree of epistemic certainty that the former, owing to its inevitable reliance on everyday preconceptions, fails to strive for, let alone to achieve.

• Option 3: Little is to be gained from constructing a rigid epistemic hierarchy between the former and the latter. Although ‘ordinary knowledge’ and ‘scientific knowledge’ are qualitatively different, they reflect equally legitimate types of epistemic engagement with the world. Rather than opposing ‘ordinary’ and ‘scientific’ ways of attributing meaning to and acting upon reality, we should seek to cross-fertilize these – arguably complementary – modes of relating to the world. As laypersons, we can navigate our everyday lives and – whether we do so consciously or unconsciously – draw on scientifically established insights. As experts, we can study objective, normative, and/or subjective aspects of the world and take ordinary people – including their conceptions, as well as their misconceptions, of reality – seriously.

Arguably, as critical theorists, we should make a case for the third option, which requires us to examine not only the role of social structures and the role of social actors but also, in a more fundamental sense, their ontological interdependence in all forms of life.

Fifth, Rosa states that he is methodologically committed to ‘perspectival dualism’³⁸⁴ – that is, to understanding human experiences from the first-person perspective (in accordance with the paradigm of Verstehen) and to explaining social life from the third-person perspective (in accordance with the paradigm of Erklären).³⁸⁵ As indicated above, there are both advantages and disadvantages to each side of this epistemic divide. Given its multilayered and intersectional constitution, however, it may be more accurately described as an epistemic continuum.³⁸⁶ The seemingly distortive aspects of knowledge production – such as bias, doxa, ideology, prejudice, background, and milieu – permeate both ‘ordinary’ and ‘scientific’ modes of epistemic engagement. In other words, all forms of knowledge production are context-laden, value-laden, meaning-laden, perspective-laden, interest-laden, power-laden, and tension-laden.³⁸⁷ This is reflected in the fact that ‘[t]he question of whether we consider a statement right or wrong depends not only on what is being said but also on who says it when, where, and to whom’³⁸⁸ – and, of course, how and why. Put in sociological terms, ‘objectivity (“What?”) is – inevitably – a matter of social authority (“Who?”), spatiotemporal contextuality (“Where and when?”), and interactional relationality (“To whom?”)’³⁸⁹ – as well as modality (‘How?’) and causality and/or intentionality (‘Why?’). Rosa’s critical theory would benefit from providing a more systematic account of the constitutive elements of this epistemic continuum.

Sixth, touching on the previous point, we should recognize the following: just as it is possible to understand human experiences from a first-person perspective and to explain social relations from a third-person perspective, it is possible to understand social relations from a first-person perspective and to explain human experiences from a third-person perspective. In other words, rather than remaining caught in a rigid Verstehen–Erklären dichotomy, we need to explore the extent to which these two paradigms overlap and inform both first-person and third-person perspectives. While there is no such thing as ‘pure understanding’, there is no such thing as ‘pure explanation’. Explanatory understandings and interpretive explanations are part of cognitive horizons, not only in everyday life but also in institutionalized – notably scientific – forms of knowledge production.

Seventh, the validity of Rosa’s distinction between ‘structural’ and ‘cultural’ dimensions of social existence³⁹⁰ is questionable. Granted, Rosa accepts that it would be erroneous to talk of a ‘bridge’ between ‘the material’ and ‘the cultural’, since these two sides cannot be separated from each other. It is ironic, however, that the ‘structural’-vs.-’cultural’ dualism persists in his own approach. All cultures have socio-structural dimensions, just as all social structures have cultural dimensions. Within forms of life, we cannot have one without the other. The existence of culture presupposes the existence of social structures, just as the existence of social structures presupposes the existence of culture. In Rosa’s framework, the structure–culture distinction comes across as a rehash of Habermas’s system–lifeworld architecture of the social. The former’s systemic logic can be grasped by virtue of functionalist explanations, whereas the latter’s experiential constitution can be understood by virtue of hermeneutic-phenomenological interpretations. For Habermas, every social formation is shaped by the interplay between system and lifeworld (and, by implication, by the tension between instrumental rationality and communicative rationality). For Rosa, every social formation is shaped by ‘the interplay between structural mechanisms and cultural motivational moments’³⁹¹ (and, by implication, by the tension between controllability and uncontrollability, along with the tension between alienation and resonance). Both in Habermas and in Rosa, the tension between these two constitutive elements of social life is exacerbated in modern societies, as illustrated in the preponderance of instrumental rationality and the obsessive pursuit of controllability. The colonization of the lifeworld by the system goes hand in hand with the colonization of our potential for resonance by the pathological quest for controllability and the spread of alienation. The originality and significance of Rosa’s critical theory notwithstanding, his ‘structural’-vs.-‘cultural’ dualism, apart from being conceptually problematic, does not add anything of compelling substance to our understanding of this colonization process.

Conclusion

Undoubtedly, Reckwitz and Rosa have made important contributions to contemporary social theory. Their (already substantial) impact upon key debates and controversies in the humanities and social sciences is likely to continue to grow in the coming years and decades. Owing to the breadth and depth of their respective approaches, Reckwitz and Rosa’s influence, far from being limited to the field of sociology, extends to various neighbouring disciplines and areas of inquiry – notably philosophy, history, anthropology, cultural studies, religious studies, economics, and political science. One may legitimately expect that both thinkers will carry on producing cutting-edge work of the highest quality and that the secondary literature on their writings will keep evolving at a similar pace.

As demonstrated above, the wide-ranging and multifaceted exchange between Reckwitz and Rosa contains valuable insights into recent and ongoing trends in society in general and social theory in particular. The first part of this paper has provided an outline of the central matters at stake in, and the core lessons learnt from, the constructive dialogue between Reckwitz’s critical analytics and Rosa’s critical theory, whereas the second part has offered an assessment of the most significant limitations of their respective views and propositions. Arguably, some of these limitations may be overcome by sharpening and broadening the empirical, historical, and theoretical dimensions of their respective frameworks. Their engagement with each other’s ideas and contributions is part of this journey. One can only hope that the meeting of minds between the two scholars will continue in the future and recommend that the fruitful encounter between Reckwitz’s critical analytics and Rosa’s critical theory be taken to the next level, thereby crossing boundaries between different intellectual traditions and expanding the horizon of possibilities in contemporary social theory.

Drawing on the 18 axes of analysis proposed in this paper, the main insights gained from the preceding inquiry can be summarized on the basis of the following theses:

• Thesis 1: Theoretical research without empirical content is empty, just as empirical research without theoretical ambition is pointless.

• Thesis 2: Historicization is not antithetical to universalization, provided the latter is contextualized, both as a conceptual framework and as an empirical reality, by virtue of the former.

• Thesis 3: In any form of life, the implicit tautology of the incessant interplay between structural processes and processual structures is a precondition for the production, absorption, and circulation of social energy.

• Thesis 4: As purposive beings, we can develop a meaningful relationship to the world only by engaging with, acting upon, and immersing ourselves in the objective, normative, and subjective realms of our existence.

• Thesis 5: The sociologist’s will to live is expressed in the will to periodize: the in-depth study of society requires a critical understanding of its historicity.

• Thesis 6: The dialectic of Kontingenzöffnung and Kontingenzschließung is deeply intertwined with the dialectic of Unverfügbarkeit and Verfügbarkeit: our lives are pervaded not only by the tension between freedom and constraint but also by the tension between indeterminacy and determinacy.

• Thesis 7: Insofar as large-scale historical developments are driven by ‘a dialectic without a telos’, society is a constantly shifting constellation of contingent happenings.

• Thesis 8: While our species-constitutive features may manifest themselves differently in different societies, the latter cannot come into existence, let alone be sustained, without the former.

• Thesis 9: Unless it commits to conducting both interdisciplinary and comparative-historical research, sociology will fail to account for the extent to which spatiotemporal hybridizations permeate all social formations.

• Thesis 10: The condition of modernity is marked by both historical specificities and cross-cultural commonalities.

• Thesis 11: Sociology needs to draw on both third-person and first-person perspectives to judge whether particular sets of practices, structures, and/or arrangements contribute to the empowerment or disempowerment of those involved in their production, reproduction, and potential transformation.

• Thesis 12: Critical sociology – whether it is pursued in terms of a critical analytics or a critical theory – is viable only to the degree that it succeeds in combining the first-person perspective of participants with the third-person perspective of observers.

• Thesis 13: The normativity of the perspective sets the parameters for the descriptibility of the object.

• Thesis 14: The social whole arises from, and is unsustainable without, the confluence of generative, reproductive, and transformative structures and processes.

• Thesis 15: There is no single overarching logic that shapes, let alone determines, all behavioural, ideological, and/or institutional modes of functioning in a given society.

• Thesis 16: If our immersion in the world is essentially relational and if our relationship to the world is fundamentally immersive, then Dasein is possible only through the everyday experience of being-in-and-through-the-world.

• Thesis 17: Just as individual consciousness is an emergent property of the brain, collective consciousness is an emergent property of society.

• Thesis 18: The interdependence between Gesellschaftstheorie and Sozialtheorie emanates from the entanglement between Gesellschaftspraxis and Sozialpraxis: we do, make, and perform individually and collectively; therefore, we are.

Compliance with Ethical Standards

This article does not contain any studies with human participants or animals performed by any of the authors.

In-Text Translations

Unless otherwise indicated, all page references are to Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021). All in-text translations (from the German) are mine. In the preceding notes, the authors’ names are abbreviated as follows: AR (Andreas Reckwitz), HR (Hartmut Rosa), and MB (Martin Bauer).

Acknowledgement

I am grateful to two anonymous reviewers for their valuable and constructive comments on an earlier version of this article. All errors remain my own.

Disclosure Statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

Notes on contributors

Simon Susen

Simon Susen is Professor of Sociology at City, University of London. Before joining City in 2011, he held lectureships at Birkbeck, University of London (2010–2011), Newcastle University (2008–2010), and Goldsmiths, University of London (2007–2008). He received his PhD from the University of Cambridge in 2007. Prior to that, he studied sociology, politics, and philosophy at a range of international universities and research centres – including the University of Cambridge, the University of Edinburgh, the Colegio de México, the Facultad Latinoamericana de Ciencias Sociales in Mexico City, and the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in Paris. He is Affiliate Professor of Sociology at the Universidad Andrés Bello in Santiago, Chile. In addition, he is Associate Member of the Bauman Institute and, together with Bryan S. Turner, Editor of the Journal of Classical Sociology.

Notes

1. For a previous overview, see Brunkhorst (2006).

2. See, for instance (Reckwitz): Bonacker and Reckwitz (2007); Carleheden, Petersen, Handreke, and Reckwitz (2022); Moebius and Reckwitz (2008); Reckwitz (1997); Reckwitz (2000); Reckwitz (2002); Reckwitz (2006); Reckwitz (2008a); Reckwitz (2008b); Reckwitz (2016); Reckwitz (2000); Reckwitz (2002); Reckwitz (2012); Reckwitz (2017 [2012]); Reckwitz (2020 [2017]); Reckwitz (2021 [2019]); Reckwitz (2021); Reckwitz (2022); Reckwitz, Prinz, and Schäfer (2015); Reckwitz and Rosa (2021a); Reckwitz and Rosa (2021b); Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021); Reckwitz and Sievert (1999); Wenzel, Krämer, Koch, and Reckwitz (2020).

See, for instance (Rosa): Bohmann, Keding, and Rosa (2018); Breidbach and Rosa (2010); Dörre, Lessenich, and Rosa (2015 [2010]); Kodalle and Rosa (2008); Reckwitz and Rosa (2021a); Reckwitz and Rosa (2021b); Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021); Rosa (1998); Rosa (2003); Rosa (2004); Rosa (2005); Rosa (2010); Rosa (2015); Rosa (2015 [2005]); Rosa (2017); Rosa (2019 [2016]); Rosa (2020); Rosa (2020 [2018]); Rosa (2021); Rosa (2022); Rosa, Buhren, and Endres (2016); Rosa, Dörre, and Lessenich (2017); Rosa and Endres (2016); Rosa, Gertenbach, Laux, and Strecker (2018 [2010]); Rosa and Henning (2018); Rosa, Meyn, and Philipp (2005); Rosa and Scheuerman (2009); Rosa, Strecker, and Kottmann (2018 [2007/2013]).

3. See, for instance (on Reckwitz and Rosa): Scott (2022).

See, for instance (on Reckwitz): Bååth (2019); Baert (2022); Garrett (2021); Gümüsay (2018); Halkier, Katz-Gerro, and Martens (2011); Harrington (2021); Harrington (2022); Jung and Sinclair (2015); Lulkowska (2022); Pettenkofer (2022); Rasche and Chia (2009); Stokes (2019); Strong (2019); Tomassini, Staffieri, and Cavagnaro (2021); Warde (2005); Warde (2014); Welch, Halkier, and Keller (2020).

See, for instance (on Rosa): Beljan (2017); Blatterer (2018); Brinkmann (2021); D’Ambrosio (2019); Felski (2022); Grigull (2014); Gros (2021); Hayes (2015); Heath (2016); Hess (2020); Hsu (2014); Jordheim and Ytreberg (2021); Kaun (2017); Ketterer and Becker (2019); Kläden and Schüßler (2017); Masquelier (2020); Moeller and D’Ambrosio (2019); Peters (2020); Peters and Majid (2022); Peters and Schulz (2017); Ranger and Ranger (2023); Reed (2014); Reed (2016); Reheis (2017); Ritzer (2017); Susen (2020b); Torres (2016); Torres and Gros (2022); Tsuo-Yu and Shuwen (2021); Vostal (2014); Wils (2018); Yu-sum (2022). See also, for example: Cooke (2020); Fuchs (2020a); Haugaard (2020); Keohane and Haugaard (2020); Keohane (2020); O’Brien (2020).

4. Reckwitz and Rosa (2021a). See also Reckwitz and Rosa (2023 [2021]).

5. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021).

6. See ibid., esp. pp. 284–285, 292, and 299.

7. Ibid., p. 284 (AR).

8. Ibid., p. 284 (AR).

9. Ibid., p. 284 (AR).

10. See ibid., esp. p. 255.

11. Ibid., p. 255 (AR).

12. Ibid., p. 255 (AR).

13. See ibid., p. 255 (AR).

14. See ibid., p. 256 (HR).

15. Ibid., p. 256 (HR).

16. See ibid., p. 256 (HR).

17. Ibid., p. 276 (AR).

18. See ibid., p. 276 (AR).

19. See, for instance: Allingham (2002); Allingham (2006); de Jonge (2012); Denzin (1990); Eriksson (2011); Lehtinen and Kuorikoski (2007); Lovett (2006); Tritter and Archer (2000).

20. See, for instance: Hobbes (1971 [1651]); Hobbes (1998 [1642/1647/1651]); Hobbes (2012 [1651]). Cf. Macpherson (2011 [1962]).

21. See, for instance: Locke (1993 [1924/1689]); Locke (1996 [1689]); Locke (2010 [1689]); Locke (2014 [1689/1690]). Cf. Macpherson (2011 [1962]).

22. See, for instance: Parsons ((1949 [1937]); Parsons (1951); Parsons (1964); Parsons (1966); Parsons (1971); Parsons (1977 [1966/1971]); Parsons (1978); Parsons (1991); Parsons (1991 [1951]); Parsons and Shils (1951).

23. See, for instance: Belsey (2002); Berman (1988); Dillet (2017); Moebius and Reckwitz (2008); Poster (1989); Susen (2015a), esp. Chapter 2; Torfing (1999).

24. See, for instance: Blok, Farias, and Roberts (2020); Elder-Vass (2008); Elder-Vass (2015); Hornborg (2016); Latour (2005); Sismondo (2010 [2004]); Williams (2020).

25. See, for instance: Bohman (1999); Bourdieu (1977 [1972]); LiPuma (1993); Reckwitz (2002); Reckwitz (2016); Schatzki (2000 [1987]); Susen (2007), Chapters 5–8.

26. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 276 (AR).

27. See ibid., esp. pp. 257 and 274–275.

28. Ibid., p. 256 (MB).

29. Ibid., p. 256 (MB).

30. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

31. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

32. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

33. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

34. See ibid., p. 257 (HR).

35. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

36. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

37. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

38. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

39. Ibid., p. 257 (HR).

40. Ibid., p. 275 (AR).

41. See ibid., p. 274 (MB).

42. See ibid., esp. pp. 284–285.

43. Ibid., p. 284 (AR).

44. Ibid., p. 284 (AR) (italics in original).

45. Ibid., p. 284 (AR).

46. On this point, see, for example, Susen (2007), pp. 55, 91, 94, 104, 124, 193, and 198.

47. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), esp. pp. 255–260.

48. Ibid., p. 255 (AR).

49. Ibid., p. 259 (AR).

50. Ibid., p. 259 (AR).

51. See ibid., pp. 259–260 (HR).

52. Ibid., p. 260 (HR).

53. Ibid., p. 260 (HR).

54. Ibid., p. 260 (HR).

55. See Inglis (2014), pp. 111–113. See also Susen (2020a), pp. xix and 162.

56. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), esp. pp. 258, 262, 264, 268, and 305–307.

57. See ibid., pp. 258 and 264 (AR).

58. Ibid., p. 258 (AR).

59. Ibid., p. 258 (AR).

60. Ibid., p. 262 (AR).

61. Ibid., p. 262 (AR).

62. See ibid., p. 268 (AR).

63. Ibid., p. 306 (AR).

64. See ibid., p. 307 (HR). Cf. Rosa (2020 [2018]).

65. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 307 (HR).

66. Ibid., p. 307 (HR).

67. See ibid., esp. pp. 269 and 290.

68. Ibid., p. 269 (AR).

69. Ibid., p. 269 (AR).

70. Ibid., p. 269 (AR).

71. Ibid., p. 269 (AR).

72. Ibid., p. 269 (AR).

73. See ibid., p. 269 (AR).

74. Ibid., p. 290 (MB).

75. Ibid., p. 290 (MB).

76. Ibid., p. 290 (MB).

77. Ibid., p. 290 (MB).

78. Ibid., p. 290 (HR) (italics in original).

79. Ibid., p. 290 (HR).

80. Ibid., p. 290 (HR).

81. Ibid., p. 290 (HR).

82. On this point, see Susen (2015a), esp. Chapter 4.

83. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 290 (MB).

84. See ibid., p. 290 (MB/HR).

85. See ibid., p. 290 (MB/HR).

86. See ibid., esp. pp. 264–267.

87. See ibid., pp. 264–265.

88. Ibid., p. 265 (AR).

89. Ibid., p. 265 (AR).

90. See ibid., p. 265 (AR).

91. See ibid., p. 265 (AR).

92. See Lévi-Strauss (1966 [1962]). See also Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 265 (AR). Cf. Layton (2004).

93. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 265 (AR). On this point, see also, for example: Adorno (1950); Arendt (1967 [1951]); Borch (2012); Friedrich and Brzezinski (1965 [1956]); Groth (1964); Hobsbawm (1994); Lefort (1986); Rupnik (1988); Talmon (1961 [1952]).

94. On authoritarianism, see, for instance: Adorno (1950); Ayers and Saad-Filho (2015); Bunce, McFaul, and Stoner-Weiss (2010); Cooke (2005); Fuchs (2020b); Turner (2011), Chapter 9. On populism, see, for instance: Berlet and Lyons 2000; Betz (1994); Calhoun (2017); Czingon, Diefenbach, and Kempf (2020); Etzioni (2018); Held (1996); Jones (2019); Kalb and Halmai (2011); Korkut (2012); Moore (2018); Mudde and Rovira Kaltwasser (2012); Pauwels (2014); Reckwitz (2021 [2019]); Reitz and Jörke (2021); Silva and Vieira (2019); Susen (2017a); Vorländer, Herold, and Schäller (2018); Wodak (2013).

95. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 265 (AR).

96. Ibid., p. 266 (HR).

97. See ibid., p. 266 (AR).

98. See ibid., p. 266 (AR). See also Koselleck (1985 [1979]), Koselleck (1988 [1959]), and Koselleck (2009 [2000]). In addition, see Delanty (2021).

99. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 266 (AR).

100. Ibid., p. 266 (AR).

101. Ibid., p. 267 (AR).

102. On this point, see Susen (2015a), pp. 36 and 120.

103. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 267 (AR).

104. See ibid., esp. pp. 263–264.

105. See ibid., p. 263 (AR).

106. Ibid., p. 263 (AR).

107. Ibid., p. 263 (AR).

108. Ibid., p. 263 (AR).

109. Ibid., p. 263 (AR).

110. See ibid., p. 264 (HR).

111. Ibid., p. 264 (HR).

112. See ibid., esp. pp. 258–264.

113. See ibid., esp. p. 258 (AR).

114. Ibid., p. 258 (AR) (italics added).

115. Ibid., p. 258 (AR).

116. See ibid., pp. 258–259 (AR).

117. Ibid., p. 260 (HR) (italics added).

118. Ibid., p. 260 (HR).

119. Ibid., p. 260 (MB).

120. Ibid., p. 261 (HR).

121. See ibid., pp. 261–262 (HR).

122. Ibid., p. 266 (HR).

123. Ibid., pp. 261–262 (HR).

124. On the concept of ‘strong evaluations’, see, for instance: Taylor (1976); Taylor (1985a); Taylor (1985b), pp. 65–68 and 73–74; Taylor (1985c), pp. 220–222 and 226; Taylor (1989), pp. 4, 14, 20, 29–30, 42, 60, 63, 122, 249, 332–333, 336, 337, 383, and 514; Taylor (1995b), pp. 37–39 and 59; Taylor (2011), pp. 294–295 and 297–302; Taylor (2007), pp. 544 and 595. Cf. Meijer (2014) and Meijer (2018). Cf. also Rosa (2016), p. 298, and Susen (2020b), pp. 311, 314, and 319.

125. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 262 (HR).

126. See ibid., pp. 264–265 (HR/AR).

127. See ibid., esp. pp. 271–272, 291–297, and 302–305.

128. Ibid., p. 271 (AR).

129. Ibid., p. 271 (AR).

130. Ibid., p. 271 (AR).

131. See ibid., pp. 271–272 (HR).

132. Cf. Alexander (2013).

133. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 272 (HR).

134. See Parsons (1964). See also Parsons (1966) and Parsons (1977 [1966/1971]). In addition, see Susen (2020a), pp. 181–183, 185, 346, and 416.

135. On Fukuyama’s conception of ‘the end of history’, see Fukuyama (1992), esp. pp. 276–277. On this point, see also, for example: Blackburn (2000), p. 267; Boltanski (2008), p. 63; Bourdieu and Boltanski (2008 [1976]), p. 53; Eagleton (1995), esp. p. 66; Fukuyama (2002); Good and Velody 1998, pp. 5 and 9; Hammond (2011), pp. 305–306, 310, 312, and 315; Horrocks (1999), pp. 7 and 13; Kellner (2007), p. 119; Nishitani (2002); Paulus (2001), p. 745; Susen (2015a), pp. 169, 170, 271, and 317n207; Williams (2010), p. 309.

136. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 303 (HR).

137. Ibid., p. 303 (HR).

138. See ibid., p. 291 (AR). Cf. Horkheimer (1976 [1937]).

139. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 291 (AR).

140. See ibid., p. 291 (AR).

141. Ibid., p. 291 (AR).

142. Ibid., p. 291 (AR) (italics added).

143. Ibid., pp. 291–292 (AR).

144. Ibid., p. 292 (AR) (italics added).

145. On Boltanski’s sociology of critique, see, for instance: Boltanski (1990b); Boltanski (2011 [2009]); Boltanski, Honneth, and Celikates (2014 [2009]); Boltanski and Thévenot (1999); Boltanski and Thévenot (2006 [1991]); Nachi (2014); Susen (2012b); Susen (2014 [2012]); Susen (2014 [2015]); Susen (2017d); Susen and Turner (2014).

146. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 292 (AR).

147. Ibid., p. 292 (AR).

148. See ibid., esp. pp. 291–297 and 302–305.

149. See ibid., p. 292 (AR).

150. Ibid., p. 292 (AR).

151. Ibid., p. 292 (AR).

152. Ibid., p. 303 (AR).

153. Ibid., p. 303 (AR).

154. Ibid., p. 292 (AR).

155. Ibid., p. 292 (AR).

156. See Reckwitz (2017 [2012]).

157. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 293 (AR).

158. Ibid., p. 293 (AR).

159. Ibid., p. 293 (AR).

160. Ibid., p. 293 (AR).

161. Ibid., p. 293 (AR).

162. Ibid., p. 293 (AR).

163. See ibid., p. 293 (HR).

164. Ibid., p. 293 (HR).

165. On the concept of ‘pathology’ in critical theory, see, for instance: Bowring (1996); Celikates (2009); Habermas (2001 [1984]-b); Honneth (2004); Honneth (2009 [2007]); Jaeggi (2016 [2005]).

166. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 293 (HR).

167. Ibid., p. 293 (HR).

168. See ibid., p. 293 (HR).

169. Ibid., p. 293 (HR).

170. See ibid., p. 293 (HR).

171. See ibid., p. 293 (HR).

172. Ibid., p. 294 (HR).

173. Ibid., p. 294 (HR) (italics in original).

174. Ibid., p. 294 (HR).

175. Ibid., p. 294 (HR).

176. Ibid., p. 294 (HR) (italics added).

177. Ibid., p. 294 (HR).

178. On this point, see, for instance: Susen (2007), p. 137; Susen (2013a), p. 95; Susen (2013c), p. 341; Susen (2014b), p. 55; Susen (2015a), pp. 7, 84, and 104; Susen (2016a), pp. 70–72; Susen (2017c), p. 43; Susen (2020a), pp. 38–39; Susen (2020b), p. 324; Susen (2021b), pp. 134–135; Susen (2022a), pp. 25 and 39.

179. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 294 (HR).

180. Ibid., pp. 289 and 295 (HR).

181. Adorno (1973 [1966]).

182. Habermas (1987 [1981]-a) and Habermas (1987 [1981]-b).

183. Honneth (1995 [1992]).

184. Forst (2012 [2007]) and Forst (2013 [2011]).

185. Saar (2007) and Saar (2013).

186. Jaeggi (2014) and Jaeggi (2018 [2014]).

187. Rosa (2019 [2016]) and Rosa (2020 [2018]).

188. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 296 (AR).

189. See ibid., p. 296 (HR).

190. See ibid., p. 297 (HR).

191. Ibid., p. 297 (HR).

192. Ibid., p. 297 (HR) (italics added).

193. Ibid., p. 302 (AR).

194. Ibid., p. 302 (AR).

195. Ibid., p. 302 (AR).

196. Ibid., p. 305 (AR).

197. Ibid., p. 305 (AR) (italics in original).

198. Ibid., p. 305 (AR).

199. See ibid., esp. pp. 297–301.

200. See Rosa (2019 [2016]). See also Susen (2020b).

201. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), esp. pp. 297–298 (AR).

202. Ibid., p. 297 (AR).

203. Ibid., p. 297 (AR).

204. See ibid., pp. 297–298 (AR).

205. Ibid., p. 298 (AR).

206. See ibid., p. 298 (HR). As explained by Rosa, this argument is inspired by Helmuth Plessner’s distinction between Rührung [emotion] and Berührung [touch]. See ibid., p. 298 (HR).

207. See ibid., pp. 298–299 (AR).

208. See ibid., p. 299 (HR).

209. See ibid., p. 299 (HR).

210. Ibid., p. 299 (HR).

211. On this issue, see Susen (2020b), pp. 325–326. See also Rosa (2016), pp. 292 and 743–747.

212. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), pp. 299–300 (HR).

213. See ibid., p. 299 (AR).

214. Ibid., p. 300 (HR).

215. On the ‘ethics of resonance’, see, for instance: Rosa (2019 [2016]), p. 458, and Rosa (2020), pp. 397 and 406–411. See also Susen (2020b), p. 336.

216. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 300 (HR).

217. See ibid., p. 300 (AR).

218. Ibid., p. 300 (AR).

219. On the concept of ‘ideal speech situation’, see, for instance: Habermas (1988 [1963]), pp. 279 and 281; Habermas (1970), pp. 367 and 371–374; Habermas (1990 [1983]), pp. 86–94; Habermas (2001 [1984]-a), pp. 85–86, 93, 97–99, and 102–103; Habermas (1992), pp. 419, 422, and 452; Habermas (2001), pp. 7–8, 10–13, 23, 29, 37, 42, 45–47, 52, and 83–84. See also, for example: Susen (2007), pp. 88–90; Susen (2021a), pp. 377, 383, 386–387, and 390–391.

220. On the concept of ‘ideal resonance situation’, see Susen (2020b), p. 334.

221. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 300 (HR).

222. Ibid., p. 301 (HR).

223. See ibid., esp. pp. 258, 267, and 273.

224. See ibid., p. 258 (AR).

225. Ibid., p. 258 (AR).

226. Ibid., p. 258 (AR). See Foucault (2002 [1966]).

227. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 267 (HR).

228. Ibid., p. 267 (HR).

229. See ibid., esp. pp. 258–259 and 269–271.

230. Ibid., p. 258 (AR).

231. Ibid., p. 258 (AR).

232. Ibid., p. 259 (AR).

233. Ibid., p. 269 (MB).

234. Ibid., p. 269 (MB).

235. Ibid., p. 269 (MB).

236. Ibid., p. 270 (HR).

237. Ibid., p. 270 (HR).

238. Ibid., p. 270 (HR).

239. Ibid., p. 270 (HR).

240. Ibid., p. 270 (HR).

241. Ibid., p. 270 (HR).

242. See ibid., p. 270 (HR).

243. See ibid., p. 270 (MB).

244. See ibid., p. 270 (HR).

245. See, for example: Taylor (1985b); Taylor (1989); Taylor (1995a); Taylor (2004).

246. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), pp. 270–271 (HR).

247. Ibid., p. 271 (HR).

248. Ibid., p. 271 (HR).

249. See ibid., esp. pp. 260 and 276–279.

250. Ibid., p. 260 (HR). Cf. Heidegger (1996 [1927]).

251. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), pp. 276–277 (HR). Cf. Hegel (1977 [1807]).

252. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 277 (HR).

253. Ibid., p. 277 (HR).

254. Ibid., p. 277 (HR).

255. Ibid., p. 277 (HR).

256. Ibid., p. 277 (HR).

257. See ibid., p. 279 (AR). Cf. Wittgenstein (2009 [1953]).

258. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 279 (AR). Cf. Heidegger (1996 [1927]).

259. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), esp. pp. 277–280.

260. See Dreyfus (2014). See also Dreyfus and Rabinow (1999).

261. Ibid., p. 277 (HR).

262. See Rosa (2003). On the paradigm of understanding [Verstehen], see also, for instance: Apel (1984 [1979]); Baert (2003), esp. pp. 100–102; Baert (2005); Bourdieu (1993); Celikates (2009); Dallmayr and McCarthy (1977); Habermas (1987 [1981]-c); Kögler and Stueber (2000); Outhwaite (1986 [1975]); Outhwaite (2000), esp. pp. 223–227; Taylor (1977); Weber (1980 [1922]).

263. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 277 (HR).

264. Ibid., p. 277 (HR).

265. Cf. Susen (2013b), esp. pp. 203–204.

266. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 278 (HR).

267. See Merleau-Ponty (1945).

268. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 278 (HR).

269. See ibid., p. 278 (HR). See previous note on the concept of ‘strong evaluations’.

270. Ibid., p. 278 (HR).

271. Ibid., p. 278 (HR).

272. Ibid., p. 279 (MB).

273. Ibid., p. 279 (MB).

274. Ibid., p. 279 (MB).

275. See ibid., p. 279 (MB).

276. Ibid., p. 279 (AR).

277. See Wittgenstein (2009 [1953]).

278. See Heidegger (1996 [1927]).

279. See Bourdieu (1977 [1972]) and Bourdieu (2000 [1997]).

280. See Giddens (1979), Giddens (1984), and Giddens (1995 [1981]).

281. See Schatzki (1996) and Schatzki (2002).

282. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 279 (AR).

283. See ibid., p. 280 (AR). Cf. Outhwaite (1990) and Outhwaite (2000), esp. pp. 229–234.

284. See, for instance: Latour (1987); Latour (1990); Latour (1993 [1991]); Latour (2004); Latour (2005); Latour (2013 [2012]).

285. See, for instance: Schatzki (1996); Schatzki (2000 [1987]); Schatzki (2002); Schatzki, Knorr Cetina, and von Savigny (2001).

286. See Reckwitz (2006).

287. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 280 (AR).

288. See ibid., esp. pp. 273–275, 280–289, and 297.

289. See ibid., p. 273 (AR).

290. See Hobbes (2012 [1651]).

291. See Parsons (1951).

292. See Luhmann (1995 [1984]).

293. See Derrida (1976 [1967]).

294. See Husserl (2012 [1913/1931]).

295. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 274 (AR). Cf. Susen and Turner (2011) and Susen and Turner (2021).

296. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 273 (AR).

297. Ibid., p. 273 (AR).

298. See ibid., p. 275 (MB).

299. See ibid., p. 275 (MB).

300. See ibid., p. 275 (MB).

301. See ibid., p. 275 (MB).

302. See ibid., p. 275 (MB).

303. Ibid., p. 275 (MB).

304. Ibid., p. 275 (MB).

305. See ibid., p. 280 (AR).

306. Ibid., p. 281 (AR) (italics in original).

307. Ibid., p. 281 (AR).

308. Ibid., p. 281 (AR).

309. Ibid., p. 281 (AR).

310. See ibid., p. 281 (AR).

311. See ibid., p. 282 (HR).

312. See ibid., p. 285 (AR).

313. Ibid., p. 286 (AR).

314. Ibid., p. 287 (AR).

315. Cf. Jenks (1998).

316. See, for instance: Giddens (1979); Giddens (1984); Giddens (1995 [1981]).

317. See, for instance: Schatzki (1996); Schatzki (2002); Schatzki, Knorr Cetina, and von Savigny (2001).

318. See, for instance: Bourdieu (1985); Bourdieu (1993 [1984]); Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992).

319. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 287 (AR).

320. Ibid., p. 287 (AR).

321. Ibid., p. 287 (AR).

322. See ibid., p. 287 (AR).

323. See, for example, Schutz (1967 [1932]).

324. See, for example, Beck (1992 [1986]).

325. See ibid., p. 288 (AR).

326. Giddens (1984).

327. Bourdieu (1977 [1972]).

328. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), pp. 288–289 (AR).

329. Ibid., p. 289 (HR). See Fraser (2003). Cf. Kaplan (2021) and Yar (2001).

330. On anti-naturalism in the humanities and social sciences, see, for instance: Baert (2003); Keat (1971); Outhwaite (1998).

331. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), pp. 289 and 295 (HR).

332. See ibid., p. 289 (HR).

333. Cf. Susen (2013a), p. 89. Cf. also Baert and Silva (2010 [1998]) and Baert and Silva (2013), esp. p. 104 (point 4). For a pragmatist perspective on the study of the social, see Baert (2007), esp. pp. 45–61 and 64–66.

334. On the concept of ‘ideal type’, see, for example: Haug, Haug, and Küttler (2004); Rosenberg (2016); Susen (2015a), pp. 57, 100, 204, 205, 207, and 217; Swedberg (2018).

335. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 269 (AR).

336. On this point, see Marx (2000/1977 [1844]). See also, for instance: Douzinas and Žižek (2010); Holloway (2005 [2002]); Holloway (2010); Holloway (2022); Holloway and Susen (2013); Susen (2012a).

337. On the concept of ‘progress’, see, for instance: Allen (2016); Aron (1972 [1968]); Feenberg (2017); Kirkpatrick (2003); Kumar (1978); Owen (2002); Pinker (2018); Rorty (1998); Schäfer (1983); Susen (2020d); Susen (2022b), esp. pp. 66, 69, 72, and 74.

338. On this point, see Susen (2015a), esp. Chapter 4.

339. See ibid., p. 138.

340. See Lyotard (1984 [1979]). On the concept of ‘metanarrative’, see, for instance: Susen (2015a), esp. Chapter 4. See also Susen (2016b) and Susen (2017b).

341. For a critical overview, see, for example, Susen (2015a), esp. Chapter 4, Chapter 5, and Chapter 6.

342. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 290 (MB).

343. On this point, see, for example: Arendt (1998 [1958]); Chernilo (2014); Chernilo (2017); Habermas (1987 [1965/1968]); Habermas (2003 [2001]); Honneth and Joas (1988 [1980]); Marx (2000/1977 [1844]); Marx and Engels (2000/1977 [1846]); Pinker (2002); Scheler (2009 [1928]); Susen (2007), Chapter 10; Susen (2010b); Susen (2015b); Susen (2015a), pp. 110–123 and 212–219; Susen (2016c); Susen (2016d); Susen (2020b); Susen (2020c), esp. pp. 125, 131, 137, 138, 142, 144, and 147; Susen (2022b), esp. pp. 76 and 79; Wilson (2004 [1978]).

344. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 265 (AR).

345. See Rosa (2019 [2016]).

346. See Kant (1995 [1781]).

347. See Habermas (1976).

348. On this point, see, for example, Pinker (2021).

349. Habermas (1987 [1965/1968]), p. 308 (italics in original).

350. Ibid., p. 308 (italics in original).

351. Ibid., p. 308.

352. On Habermas’s notion of the ‘colonization of the lifeworld’, see, for example: Habermas (1987 [1981]-d), p. 332; Habermas (1987 [1981]-e), pp. 134, 140–143, and 148; Habermas (1987 [1981]-f), esp. p. 196; Habermas (1987 [1981]-g), pp. 333–335; Habermas (1982), pp. 226 and 278–281. In addition, see, for instance: Browne and Susen (2014), p. 217; Susen (2007), pp. 69, 71, 72, 97n47, 110, 177, 178, 190, 246, 252, 279, 296, and 305; Susen (2009), pp. 86, 106, and 109; Susen (2010a), pp. 108 and 113; Susen (2011), pp. 49 and 51; Susen (2012b), pp. 288, 289, 290, 305, 308, and 314; Susen (2013c), pp. 354, 360, 368, and 383n352; Susen (2015d), p. 1034; Susen (2017c), pp. 12–13 and 83–84n110; Susen (2020a), pp. 42, 229, 251, and 329; Susen (2021a), pp. 379, 382, and 392; Susen (2023), esp. ‘Critical Reflections’ (section 3, point 2).

353. On this point, see, for instance: Feenberg (2017); Fuchs (2020b); Habermas (1987 [1965/1968]); Held (1980); Horkheimer and Adorno (1994 [1944/1969]); Marx (2000/1977 [1844]); Oakes (2003); Susen (2020d); Weber (1980 [1922]).

354. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 292 (AR).

355. Susen (2007), p. 167.

356. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 292 (AR).

357. Ibid., p. 292 (AR).

358. On this point, see Susen (2015a), p. 10. See also ibid., pp. 71, 152, 174, 200, and 263.

359. See Susen (2022a).

360. See Susen (2020b), p. 328. Cf. Rosa (2016), p. 749. Cf. also Fraser and Honneth (2003).

361. Consider, for instance, the case of Adorno, whose work conveys a radical critique of the idea of conceptual ‘system building’ aimed at providing not only a ‘catch-all’ account of society but also ‘normative foundations’ for critical theory. See Adorno (1973 [1966]). On this point, see also, for example: Allen (2016); Antonio (1989); Ellmers and Hogh (2017); Freyenhagen (2013); Moritz (1992); O’Kane (2021); Reynolds (2021); Reynolds (2022); Susen (2007), esp. pp. 51, 58–59n10, and 307; Wellmer (1990 [1979]).

362. See Susen (2010a).

363. On this point, see Bourdieu (1985). See also, for instance: Grenfell (2013), p. 282; Robbins (2016), p. 7; Susen (2013c), pp. 348–349; Susen (2022a), p. 36; Thorpe (2011), p. 216.

364. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 292 (AR).

365. Cf. Susen (2014a) and Susen (2015c). On the relationship between ‘critical sociology’ and the ‘pragmatic sociology of critique’, see, for instance, Susen (2014 [2015]) and Susen (2015d). In addition, see, for example: Atkinson (2020); Bénatouïl (1999a); Bénatouïl (1999b); Callinicos (2006), pp. 4–5, 15, 51–82, and 155–156; Celikates (2009), pp. 136–157; de Blic and Mouchard (2000a); de Blic and Mouchard (2000b); Frère (2004), esp. pp. 92–93 and 97n4; Nachi (2006), pp. 188–189; Susen (2007), pp. 223–224, 227n25, 228n50, 229n51, 229n52, and 271n24; Wagner (1999); Wagner (2000). On this debate, see also, for instance: Boltanski (1990a), pp. 9–134; Boltanski (1990b), pp. 124–134; Boltanski (1998), esp. pp. 248–253; Boltanski (1999–2000), pp. 303–311; Boltanski (2002), pp. 276–281 and 281–284; Boltanski (2003), pp. 153–161; Boltanski (2008); Boltanski (2009), esp. pp. 39–82; Boltanski and Chiapello (1999), esp. pp. 633–640; Boltanski and Honneth (2009), pp. 81–86, 92–96, and 100–114; Boltanski, Rennes, and Susen (2010), pp. 152–154 and 160–162; Boltanski and Thévenot (1991), pp. 40, 41–43, 43–46, and 265–270; Boltanski and Thévenot (1999), pp. 364–365.

366. See esp. Boltanski (2011 [2009]). See also Susen (2014 [2012]) and Susen (2014c).

367. See Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 293 (AR).

368. Ibid., p. 293 (AR).

369. Ibid., p. 293 (AR).

370. Ibid., p. 293 (HR).

371. Cf. Outhwaite (2017). Cf. also Burton, Outhwaite, and Susen (2021).

372. Adorno (1973 [1966]).

373. Habermas (1987 [1981]-a) and Habermas (1987 [1981]-b).

374. Honneth (1995 [1992]).

375. Forst (2012 [2007]) and Forst (2013 [2011]).

376. Saar (2007) and Saar (2013).

377. Jaeggi (2014) and Jaeggi (2018 [2014]).

378. Rosa (2019 [2016]) and Rosa (2020 [2018]).

379. See previous reference on the concept of ‘pathology’ in critical theory.

380. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 294 (HR) (italics in original).

381. Ibid., p. 294 (HR).

382. Ibid., p. 294 (HR).

383. See Susen (2021b), pp. 126–127.

384. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 297 (HR).

385. See ibid., p. 297 (HR).

386. See Susen (2022a), p. 40.

387. On this point, see Susen (2015a), p. 10. See also ibid., pp. 71, 152, 174, 200, and 263.

388. Ibid., p. 10 (italics in original) (quotation modified).

389. Ibid., p. 10 (italics in original).

390. Reckwitz, Rosa, and Bauer (2021), p. 270 (HR).

391. Ibid., p. 270 (HR).