Further reflections on theory as time travel: a response to Morgan

ABSTRACT

In his review essay on World Statehood, Morgan poses three questions, namely: does my conceptualization imply conflation of agency and structure; is the realist processual account of time contradictory; and have we humans already reached the limit of the possible? I address each question briefly one at a time, arguing that the concept of self-transformative capacity of contexts does not imply conflation; that various processes with different durations can exhibit patterns that can be reasonably discussed and assessed and, with caution, also used in anticipations; and that there is no cosmic law or limit that inevitably hinders humanity's further progress.

KEYWORDS:

• Fermi paradox
• structure
• uncertainty

Jamie Morgan has written a fantastically good summary and review of World Statehood. It's rare to get such a thorough and relevant review of a book, and in many ways writing any kind of response or rejoinder would seem to be completely pointless. However, the beauty of Morgan's review essay lies also in the way he invites me (and all of us) to continue the conversation. Toward the end of his essay, Morgan raises three critical issues: (1) whether the concept of ‘self-transformative capacity of contexts’ is prone to central ‘conflation’ in Margaret Archer’s terms and to problematic implications of strong social constructionism; (2) whether the realist processual account of time is contradictory in some ways, for example, there may be a tension between shaping the future and the future as something that is not only uncertain but also unknowable in many ways; and (3) whether it may be impossible for humanity or any species in the cosmos to progress beyond our current point (or, as Morgan also formulates this problem, ‘whether the idea of a telos within reality can be sustained with a view to cultural and moral learning’). I will briefly address each question one at a time.

Conflating agency and structure?

Morgan raises the suspicion that the concept of the self-transformative capacity of contexts may be ontologically or social-theoretically problematic. Almost in the same instance, he largely answers his question for me by stressing that in the book, relations, causation, and processes are structured, etc. However, his discussion provides an opportunity to explain the origin and meaning of the concept of self-transformative capacity a little better.

Morgan frames his question with a reference to Archer (e.g. 1995, chapters 3 and 4; and Archer and Morgan 2020, 187–91) ‘If Margaret Archer were alive to write this review it seems likely she would be sensitive to the possibility of central conflation one might think inherent in this idea’.¹ What exactly is the idea I am defending? The idea is that contexts differ in their openness to change. A change from less to more open-to-changes context does not imply conflation of structure and agency. The term ‘social structure’ refers to internal and external relations of a positioned practice; these relations are implicated and/or generated by the components of the relevant causal complex. Also in contexts that are in comparative terms open to self-generated changes, there are structures in this sense and causation applies. Moreover, a simple dichotomy actor/structure gives an incorrect picture of how a complex society is organized and functions. Actions and structures are part of larger wholes or totalities (as Roy Bhaskar called them), namely social systems (Patomäki 1991; 2002, chapter 4) and generative fields (as applied to global political economy, Patomäki 2022).

Social systems are organized as regular, interconnected positioned practices of individual and collective actors, while the components of a social system are also connected through manifold unintended consequences of actions. Social systems have emergent powers and properties, and these may constitute their raison d’être, while this raison d’être may itself have unintended consequences (think about the ideas of the ‘invisible hand’ as constitutive of market systems or ‘stability’ through power-balancing of the interstate system). Any particular agent positioned in particular practices is subject to manifold constitutive and causal determinations and she forms only a very small part of these larger wholes, the dynamics of which may seem to her to be happening with an irresistible force beyond her or even anyone’s control. The concept of field adds a notion that is implicit in concepts such as historically constituted agency, practices, structure, and system, namely that the properties of emergent wholes can explain, in part, those of their parts, the properties and powers of which are nonetheless not reducible to the whole. The organization of the whole or totality configures humans and their dispositions, capacities, and understandings.

I have adopted and modified the concept of self-transformative capacity of contexts from Unger (1997). Unger criticizes deep-structuralism (deep-structuralism in this sense subsumes each formative social context under an indivisible and repeatable type and searches for general laws governing such types) and introduces concepts such as disentranchment, revisability, plasticity, and negative capacity to explore different past and possible future formative contexts and how they have changed and can change. Unger is a realist² but uses a language that is different from CR, and I have tried to make the two compatible. Unger’s criticism of deep-structuralism is fully consistent with CR – for example, capitalism is not an indivisible type governed by some general laws or regularities, whether understood in terms of neoclassical, post-Keynesian, post-Marxian or whatever theory³ – and from a CR perspective, it is plausible to argue that changes can make contexts more open to further changes (while the opposite can also happen, as in pathological learning).

Thus I argue on p.86 of World Statehood that early modern developments such as the Copernican revolution, early explorations and colonialism, subsequent encounters with distant others, and the ensuing ethical, social, and political critique, boosted the self-transformative capacity of European contexts. I also argue – and this is a key part of the argument of the book as a whole – that often (though not in all contexts) democratization increases this self-transformative capacity. This is complicated, however. Even in tradition-bound, coercive, and hierarchical contexts, institutional and ideological clusters vary and leaders may perceive that their current forms of technology or organization may be ill-suited to their aims. Furthermore, a major premise of the book (developed originally years ago) is that the key to understanding and explaining the possibility of security communities lies in the self-transformative capacity of contexts, generating dependable expectations of peaceful changes and integration. Finally, since the emergence of the planetary economy in the nineteenth century (preceded by centuries of violent state competition and Europe-based expansionism), the conditions for collective context transformation have become increasingly global. These processual conditions do not concern only the interconnected and dynamic world economy and the related multi-spatial systems of regional and global governance, but also the war-prone field of state-reasoning and interstate relations.

Those defending a strong concept of structure – such as Archer – are usually opposed to the kind of liberalist voluntarism in which individuals have many opportunities regardless of their social positioning in the prevailing practices and systems, and in which society is in some sense the result of the agreement or at least the actions of the currently existing individuals. I concur with the general thrust of this criticism but my future-oriented story, which is in part based on Bhaskar’s ([1993] 2008) Dialectic, involves a movement in the opposite direction. By absenting geo-historical constraints on well-being (or good) in a generalizable manner, and by enabling new desirable possibilities, the future may come to be increasingly (co-)determined by our normative discourse about its desirability, though this process will never come to an end (‘what is certain is that, so long as humanity survives, there will always be a conatus for freedom to become’; Bhaskar [1993] 2008, 91). Moreover, given the multiplicity of causal processes and complexity of interconnected social systems (which are no longer confined to the surface of the planet and are already expanding into space), while the future may radically increase the developmental and other possibilities of individuals, emancipation is still primarily a question of collective self-determination and directing world history into rational and desirable directions. The evolving layer of world statehood plays an important role in this global democratic project, which aims at reflexively shaping world history on this limited and fragile planet, on which we will remain dependent at least for centuries to come.

Is the realist processual account of time contradictory?

At the end of his essay, Morgan writes that ‘it might be thought curious (though not inexplicable under some account) that a realist can be sceptical regarding foresight and futures studies and yet embrace explanatory critique and emancipation’. I could not agree more. If we do not have some adequate knowledge about whether particular emancipatory activities ‘A’ have desirable or disastrous consequences – or whether they fail to make any difference – there is no rational reason to engage with ‘A’ or to support them. To succeed, emancipation presupposes some foresight and conditional scenarios about possible and likely futures. We must be able to choose rationally between different courses of action. If this were not so, much of the appeal of judgemental rationality so important for critical realism would be eliminated at a stroke.

Morgan’s second related critical remark is directed at me: ‘Relativising the present creates numerous conceptual problems of what it means to say something is “now” in a non-event sense, while the unreconciled tension between shaping the future and unknown futures is a subject ripe for hubris’. This phrasing of the problematic reminds me of Keynes's (2008, orig. 1921) response to G. E. Moore’s (1971, orig. 1903) point we cannot know the long-term consequences of our actions. Moore’s problem is in a way amplified by the realist processual account of time. Several processes may not only occur simultaneously but coalesce and interact in various ways, each in a sense co-defining its own ‘now’, while the duration of the processes may differ radically. Any activity is thus likely to contribute to many processes simultaneously. Keynes argued that Moore was confusing knowledge of probabilities with certainty and putting too much emphasis on the distant future. Keynes’s (2008, 3)Treatise starts by distinguishing between certain (deductive, mathematical) and uncertain and inconclusive arguments. It links the study of probability with the study of argumentation: ‘[…] many other [than demonstrative] arguments are rational and claim some weight without pretending to be certain’. Rational beliefs not only rely on arguments but also come in degrees. When we are talking about practical actions and their consequences, rationality is concerned with probable outcomes. Probability judgements do not rely as much on stable frequencies as on historical knowledge (‘intuition’), argument, and evidence.

This way of framing the problematic of time, temporality, and anticipating possible and likely futures opens a space within which it is meaningful to discuss different types of processes and contexts, the epistemology of rational anticipation, degrees of uncertainty in different contexts, reflexivity of anticipations, etc. (for such a discussion between us, Patomäki and Morgan 2023, 725–34). While the realist processual account of time may complicate the task, it also makes it more interesting. Whereas Keynes tended to think that in the presence of uncertainty, rational anticipation can usually only concern the relatively near future at most (a few years, perhaps one or two decades; but see Keynes [1930] 1963 for a thought experiment about 100 years of growth and capitalism by 2030), various processes with different durations can exhibit patterns that can be reasonably discussed and assessed and, with caution, also used in anticipations. While the pragmatics of the realist processual account of time point toward reformism and experimentalism, it is also possible to discuss and make plausible arguments about tendential rational directions of world history, including in terms of self-transformative capacity and self-determination, and these kinds of considerations play an important role in emancipatory arguments – as they do also in World Statehood.

We can try to refuse to think about possible futures and how they might arise and how they might be realized, but we will nonetheless contribute to the future, which in some ways and to some degree can be anticipated reflexively. Anticipatory imagination, causation, and temporality are intertwined. The point is to choose rationally on the basis of virtues, norms, and possible and likely consequences of actions. All this notwithstanding, because of our fallibility, negative unintended consequences may apply and these could be severe. This is a central reason for the ethical circle of non-violence reproduced in Morgan’s review.

Where are the others – have we already reached the limits of the possible?

I agree with Morgan that the Fermi paradox is highly relevant to my overall argument. My argument indeed begins from the idea of a developing universe of growing complexity and diversity, creating an anti-entropic tendency of open systems processes involving the emergence of new qualities and powers, leading eventually to life, consciousness and cultural and moral learning, as these are inherent to organic intelligence insofar as it is social (apart from the sources of chapter 3 of World Statehood, see also, for example, Azarian 2022; and for a related debate on the pages of this journal, Hostettler 2010; Patomäki 2010). Now, this account of the role of the second law of thermodynamics, emergence, and growing diversity and complexity suggests that the universe is pregnant with the possibility of life and its evolution. However, if this is so, where are all the others?

The Fermi paradox can be phrased as an epistemic question about the absence of evidence: why is there no credible evidence of advanced extraterrestrial (ET) life? We see neither evidence that technological civilizations have been active over the history of the Galaxy nor signals from currently existing ET civilizations. We know that the absence of evidence does not mean evidence of absence, but it may indicate such absence. There are many possible responses to the Fermi paradox. Morgan explores the possibility that moving on from the current stage of humanity is impossible for some reason. Life may be rarer than we think, but even then we could expect there to have been many processes of evolution on different planets (the average⁣ age of planets in our galaxy is 2.5 billion years older than our solar system and planets composed of heavy elements are now being found orbiting very old stars).⁴ So perhaps our stage of development forms a nearly universal threshold? Either a technological civilization almost inevitably destroys itself through war or by undermining the ecological and other conditions for the possibility of its own life continuing (cf. Rees 2003); or in the vulgar-Darwinist universe, those life forms and civilizations that have reached a certain stage are destroyed for the fear of them becoming threats (Morgan refers to the Dark Forest conjecture made famous by Liu Cixin’s bestseller).⁵ If civilizations that can send and receive radio messages and observe the surrounding cosmos live only for a couple of centuries or so, it is no wonder the galaxy is so quiet. It may take a million or one hundred million years before the next one pops up somewhere, only to become silent in a short moment. Can we deny the possibility of such a stark threshold?

Morgan answers that we cannot, but from a reflexive perspective, it is more rational to believe that humanity will have a long-term future. ‘In a situation of uncertainty the rational thing to do is the thing that seems to offer hope not the one which closes it down’. This is a good answer, but we do not have to stop there. Once, I calculated very roughly that for two technological civilizations to co-exist in the galaxy, they should last, on average, for at least tens of thousands of years, if not much more (Patomäki 2013, 97). Guglielmo Marconi developed the first radio communication system in 1895, so we have existed only for a century so far. Even if technological civilizations may disappear for some reason at some point, 10⁴ or 10⁵ years appears to be a much more hopeful scale of time, providing ample possibilities for the future developments and adventures of humanity.

Nowadays I tend to find this line of reasoning unsatisfactory. While the time explanation remains an important consideration, a long-lived enough civilization would probably spread to other planets and other solar systems at some point, which would greatly reduce the probability of its destruction.⁶ It is also unlikely that categorically all technological species will destroy themselves before breaking out into the galaxy. There are other possibilities. One is that despite the time scales and age of our galaxy, we may, after all, be the first ones. This hypothesis becomes more likely if the ‘rare Earth’-hypothesis cannot be falsified and if the rapidly accumulating evidence will make this scenario look increasingly plausible.⁷ For the time being, however, it seems equally probable that indeed, the absence of evidence does not mean evidence of absence. We may be looking for radio signals or Kardashev-scale constructions around stars, although the ethical-political and technological developments have taken other species in other worlds to directions that we cannot even imagine (we are looking for the wrong kind of evidence). For example, there may be much better and faster ways of communication than radio waves or other major sources of energy than the nuclear fusion inside stars. (Also, we may have to account for the possibility that interstellar travel may be next to impossible or at least so impractical to be pointless, which has all kinds of implications, also regarding the likely longevity of civilizations.)

Last but not least, there is also the zoo hypothesis, which is that the ET civilizations exist but are deliberately hiding from us. This can be a plausible hypothesis to the extent that the ET civilizations are rare (to the point that at present there is only one relevant ET civilization in our galaxy or perhaps including also nearby galaxies) or that they collaborate on a galactic scale (as in Carl Sagan’s 1985 sci-fi novel Contact). We can speculate on many possible reasons why we humans might want to be kept ignorant. (See Crawford and Schulze-Makuch 2024, 48–49) A policy of non-interference could be motivated in terms of protection – either us or them. Or perhaps the principle is that a culture like ours must reach a certain stage of development before it can be contacted or made known about the existence of others.

The stories that we can and do generate about our place in the wider evolutionary schemes of the cosmos constitute our ability to create common institutions and cooperate on the Earth, as well as with ET civilizations if they exist. A hopeful cosmic vision has the potential to transform our grammar of interpretative stories and the deep logics of our moral scripts. An adequate cosmic viewpoint may thus contribute, in its part, to pushing humanity towards the next step in our collective learning, including in terms of institution-building. However, this requires much more than just our ability to imagine our place in the cosmos, namely systematic critical analyses and transformations of human social practices, structures, systems and fields. In the course of this Earthly process, we humans will gradually learn also more about exobiology and the likelihood and evolution of life on other planets.

Disclosure statement

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

Notes

1 Archer contrasts the duality of structure and agents with central conflation to highlight that structures and agents are ontologically different and that these interact in a phased schema. The purpose of this short answer is not to discuss Archer's concepts per se – suffice it to say that I agree with Archer that agency and social structure have to be related rather than conflated.

2 In most of his social scientific and political texts, Unger uses terms such as “realism” and “realistic” in assessing whether something is practically possible in a given context, or to contest the attitude of accepting the current state of affairs without hopes for a better future (“the predominant methods in the social sciences lead them to be a kind of retrospective rationalisation of what exists”; Unger 2014). In his book with the physicist Lee Smolin (Unger and Smolin 2015), Unger specifies (ontological) realism to include the following basic principles: There is only one, singular universe. Time, change, and causation are real. The present is decisive and the future is open. The reality of time is all-inclusive: there is no independent, timeless background. The principle of relativity is all-inclusive: everything is connected and determined causally and relationally. For a review of the book, Patomäki 2015.

3 There may be generic tendencies and recurring patterns, however. For a critical but sympathetic discussion on Shaikh’s (2016) claim that in capitalist market societies “many forces together generate recurring patterns transcending historical and regional particularities: the profit motive being the most powerful of these forces”, Patomäki 2017.

4 I am thankful to Ian Crawford for various illuminating discussions on the Fermi paradox and related issues, including World Statehood (see Crawford, forthcoming). The average age of the Milky Way planets is mentioned in Crawford and Schulze-Makuch (2024, 47).

5 In terms of International Relations theory, the Dark Forest scenario exhibits the economistic logic of Neorealism on steroids. In Neorealism (Waltz, Mearsheimer, etc.), state actors are concerned first and foremost about their survival. Yet, even in the Offensive version of Neorealism, the cautious or fearful anticipations of states lead at most to some kind of expansionist effort (on this basis, neorealists have presumed they can derive a few general closed-systems laws). It is also noteworthy that the dark forest hypothesis is a special case of the “sequential and incomplete information game” in game theory, which was developed on a par with nuclear weapons and deterrence at the outset, and in the course of the Cold War, to defend the “capitalist democracy of the West” (Amadae 2002). This kind of thinking generalises a very particular (and sinister) geohistorical understanding into a generic principle of the cosmos, while it has been criticised by many critical realists in economics as well as in philosophy and sociology.

6 However, the vastness of time and space can nonetheless explain the absence of contact. Even if there was an interstellar civilisation in the galaxy but confined to a particular region of it (perhaps because of limits of speed of travel and communication), two-way communication between the Earth and that civilisation with radio signals could take up to 100,000 years. Our solar system is located at a radius of about 27,000 light-years from the galactic centre and the diameter of the galaxy is 87,000 light years, so the distance to many parts of the galaxy can be even more than 50,000 light years. A lot depends on whether the speed of light is the universal speed limit of the universe, also in terms of communication. It should also be noted that current SETI surveys are unlikely to detect a signal from a distance of 10,000 light-years or more anyway, so given our current capabilities, communication with a distant ET civilisation in our galaxy is at least for the time being impossible (not to speak of other galaxies).

7 The path of billions of years of uninterrupted evolution of life may be highly contingent and Earth-like planets may be much rarer than is assumed and perhaps hoped. We humans may be inevitable but in a fairly lonely Universe. If there are others like us, they are likely to exist in distant galaxies. This hypothesis and scenario seem to be especially appealing to the religiously minded but is also the basis of the Freeman Dyson scenario of “the greening of the galaxy setting a future project for humanity” I discuss briefly on p.59 of World Statehood. See Morris (2003) for a plausible attempt to build a case for the “rare Earth” -hypothesis. The “Last word” of the book on pp. 331–2 is impressive, describing in detail the biological and other details of the ETs who have landed in England. “By now dusk was falling, Venus already bright in the sky. It was time to go home. ‘Before you leave, may I ask where you are from? Was it a very long journey?’ But we already had guessed. ‘A long journey? Well, only in some ways. Where is our home? Why, the planet we call Earth, of course. Surely you already knew in your hearts that there is only one Earth?’ We were, of course, looking at ourselves.”