Utopias, Dystopias, and the Object of Hope

For several millennia, the human race has dreamt of a utopia, a perfect earthly society. But we’ve also contemplated the polar opposite of utopia in nightmarish visions of dystopias, of societies gone very wrong, including Lord of the World (1907), Brave New World (1932), 1984 (1949), Fahrenheit 451 (1953), Logan’s Run (1967), and The Children of Men (1992). During the last several decades, we’ve seen a significant increase in the number of dystopian novels and movies being produced, as well as an increase in the discussion of dystopian themes in works of nonfiction. This recent trend is reflected in an Ngram showing the frequency of use of the terms “dystopia” and “dystopian” in books over time. Usage of those terms started to rise in the mid-1970s, peaked in 2012, and has remained at or near that peak ever since.

Some commentators have suggested this heightened focus on dystopian themes is indicative of a widespread decline in hope for the building of a better world. But that is not necessarily the case. As Peter J. Leithart correctly pointed out in an article for First Things, descriptions of both utopia and dystopia can be viewed as part of the same project—i.e., that of envisioning a better society—either by highlighting characteristics we’d like to see in such a society or by warning us of some of the innumerable ways that societies can go off the rails. Also, people continue to talk a lot about utopian themes; in fact, we still make far more references to “utopia” and “utopian” than we do to “dystopia” and “dystopian.” Use of the words “utopia” and “utopian” peaked in the same year as the use of “dystopia” and “dystopian” (2012), and although references to “utopian” and “utopia” have decreased somewhat since then, those terms are still used five and six times more frequently, respectively, than are “dystopian” and “dystopia.” Apparently, hope springs eternal for a perfect earthly society brought about by human effort alone.

But the truth is, this utopian dream is unattainable, for several reasons. One could, for example, point to fallen human nature’s tendency toward sin and evil, a tendency which sooner or later tends to corrupt and undermine all human societies from within, or else destroy them from without in the form of conquest by some other society. But even more fundamentally, there is the cold, hard reality of death. Even if human beings were able, somehow, to build one of their “ideal” societies, every member of that society will still eventually die, bringing the dream to an end. Hans Urs von Balthasar provided a blunt expression of this truth: “Secular hope has been truly broken; every moment it is concretely shattered at death. Beyond my death, there is no hope for me in the secular future. Is there any for others?” The answer, of course, is no.

Admittedly, there are some people who are seeking to overcome human mortality through technological advancements, health practices, etc., but even if these so-called “transhumanists” were to succeed in their project to expand human capabilities and extend the length of our earthly lives indefinitely, does such an extension really sound all that appealing? We want more than just a finite increase in our capabilities and an endless prolongation of our current lives; we want an elevation of our lives, an infinite elevation of our lives. We want to live at a “higher pitch of existence,” to paraphrase Bishop Robert Barron. The ultimate object of our hope is not a finite life in some earthly utopia built by human hands; the ultimate object of our hope is to share in the greatest possible life: to share in the infinite, eternal life and love of God (2 Peter 1:4).

Even atheists like Friedrich Nietzsche and Jean-Paul Sartre expressed some form of this deepest desire of the human heart. Nietzsche exclaimed that “all joy wants eternity, wants deep, wants deep eternity.” Sartre, in the same breath that he denied God, admitted his profound longing for God: “That God does not exist, I cannot deny. That my whole being cries out for God, I cannot forget.”

Secular hope—hope that leaves God out of the picture, or denies God entirely—is ultimately doomed to disappointment. Christian hope is not. The Resurrection of Jesus Christ lies at the center of the Christian faith, and indeed at the center of human history, because his Resurrection broke through death, the ultimate barrier to human fulfillment, and opened up the path for us human beings to share in the divine life. And Christian hope doesn’t pass the world by or cast the world aside, as do some Eastern religions that deny the reality of the physical universe. God promises to transform the world and bring that transformed world with us into the divine life (Isaiah 65:17; Romans 8:20–22; Revelation 21:1–5).

In the meantime, utopian dreams and dystopian warnings can still serve an important purpose. As Christians, we are called to do what we can to build a better society and a better world. We are called, as several of our recent popes (especially St. John Paul II) have emphasized, to help build a “civilization of love.” Reflecting on societal characteristics that would bring us closer to that goal and societal choices that would undermine that goal can help us with this task, but human effort alone will never fulfill our utopian visions. Only the final and total inbreaking of the kingdom of God, with the return of Jesus Christ, will bring about the ultimate “civilization of love,” when the world itself and all of the members of the Body of Christ are taken into the divine life of God. Nothing less will satisfy the human longing for the fullness of life.

This article originally appeared at Word on Fire.