I changed the name of this newsletter to “Not Yet.” It’s a phrase that speaks deeply to me. In today’s short post I’m going to explain what it means to me and why it’s a good name for the kinds of things I’m trying to explore here.
I have long been interested in the philosophy of Ernst Bloch, German-Jewish Marxist philosopher of hope and anticipatory consciousness. His work is difficult to summarize because he wrote about everything—music, theatre, literature, religion, natural law, fascism, time, and Marxist thought, of course.1 Throughout his huge body of work, he was committed to showing how even in the most dire and terrible contemporary circumstances, there is a trace of hope for a better future that has not yet materialized. In his colossal three-volume work The Principle of Hope, he discusses how humans possess an “anticipatory consciousness”—we want a better world that offers more just and fulfilling lives for ourselves and others, and we sense that this is possible, even if it isn’t our lived reality. Because that lived reality is so horrible—and Bloch would know, he was near the top of the list of intellectuals the Nazis targeted in 1933—often this wishing for a better future is “not-yet-conscious” in humans or in the cultural works that we produce. But this trace of hope is there, waiting to be unearthed, even in the most banal or ideological work of art. It’s the stuff of our waking dreams and we find its expression in images, music, prose, and so on.
Some of you who know me IRL know that Bloch’s philosophy of the Not Yet (Noch Nicht) underpins the book I’ve been writing, but why am I bringing it into this space? Well, I decided to adopt the phrase for the title of this newsletter because it captures this idea of the hidden potentiality in all that is past, present, and future. For Bloch, the entire world and everything in it is in a state of becoming that he called the “not-yet-become.” Everything that is latent and that has not yet come to the surface is full of possibility: it shows us that which is not yet. Bloch was a Marxist, though, and he remained committed to the idea of a utopian world, but in a dialectical manner: utopia is already present and all around us, and it’s also in a “not yet” state of potentiality. I find that idea thrilling, truly, and I think we could use a lot more of it, in pretty much every sphere of our existence.
What can happen when we turn our attention to that which is already present within us and around us and at the same time, not yet fully become? Can we make hope concrete? We need to find it and see it first.
Thanks for reading this extremely short gloss on Bloch and why I am enthralled by his philosophy of hope, time, and social change. Next week I will share a post on things that I consider worth the trouble, and I would say that it is some “trouble” to insist on hopeful thinking, as it was in Bloch’s own time. People love to dismiss anything remotely utopian, but I think it’s because to hope is to risk disappointment, and to be vulnerable, and to be faced with what is not yet.
I highly recommend his book Heritage of Our Times (1935), about the rise and appeal of fascism in Germany. It’s a scarily good way to understand Trumpism and other fascisms of our time too.
LOVE it: "hopeful thinking" and viewing everything as it's "becoming." As a parent, I want my kids to have that outlook too. My older ones are emerging adults and having hope for the future seems especially important during that time of life. Thanks for sharing this background. Your writing is a beautiful balance of heart and mind. I can't wait to read more of your work!
This is the real "hope in the dark" read I needed today. Glad I left it until now (any maybe it's a 'not yet' actualized?!).