Imagining New Forms

Edward O. Wilson argues that myths are essential for societal cohesion, evolving from biological roots to shape collective purpose and ethics. The modern myth of capitalism—framed around growth, consumption, and productivity—has led to ecological and emotional crises, fostering fear and disconnection. Contemporary thinkers advocate for new narratives rooted in imagination, empathy, and ecological balance to counter apocalyptic paralysis. Ultimately, reimagining our future is not a luxury but a political and existential necessity.

The Power of Myth: Stories as Survival Tools

Edward Osborne Wilson, in his book Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge, presents the idea that no tribe or society can survive for long without a myth that explains the meaning of its existence. Since the dawn of humanity, stories and fables have been deeply rooted in our species; they help us understand who we are and shape civilizations. Tribes and cultures have used these narratives to establish a common purpose, define their collective identity, and make sense of their place in the world. Without these unifying stories, societies lose direction and eventually fragment.

Wilson connects this idea to evolutionary biology, arguing that humans have an innate predisposition toward myth-making, as these narratives have played an adaptive role in social evolution. Myths not only explained natural phenomena (before science took on that role) but also reinforced ethical values, norms, and group cohesion, enabling communities to organize and survive in a hostile world.

Capitalism as Myth: The Dominant Narrative of Our Time

For some time now, the dominant myth in our society has been that of capitalism. We have internalized its narrative of perpetual growth, productivity, competition, survival of the fittest, and relentless consumption. Under this logic, both humans and non-humans are reduced to mere resources. This relatively recent myth dates back to the late 18th century and finds one of its conceptual pillars in The Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith. More than simply describing reality, Smith constructed a speculation based on a specific social context: the Industrial Revolution and rationalism. In his work, he did not merely analyze what was happening but prescribed what should happen—offering the belief that salvation from hunger, misery, and fear lay in technology and a certain economic organization. Thus, economic liberalism was structured like a religion, with promises of progress and rewards for those who devoted themselves fully to work. Above all, Smith was a moral philosopher, not an economist.

With the Industrial Revolution, new emotions emerged along with a language that reflected them. The idea that growth and progress rewarded human life above all other forms of life was promoted. Devotion to work became a fundamental principle, while values such as respect, community, and care were marginalized. Despite political changes and opposing ideologies, the myth of infinite growth has endured, even shared by supposedly antagonistic projects. Productivity continues to determine people’s value in society.

Today, we are living the consequences of having followed this narrative to its ultimate implications. Beyond growing inequality, one of its most evident manifestations is climate change and its collateral effects. In light of this reality, my creative practice has increasingly shifted toward exploring these issues. I aim to approach them from a conscious and critical perspective, acknowledging both the contradictions inherent in my own position and the privileges from which I observe. Although reflective, I choose to assume the role of a non-researcher, fully aware that every project carries its own biases.

This space, especially in the context of carrying out Signal Extraction within the framework of the Kone Foundation grant, has allowed me to expand my knowledge on issues related to this field. Throughout my exploration, I have not only observed how the deeply rooted logics of the capitalist myth are present in contemporary extractivism but also how they interact with narratives about the future.

In libraries, I have noticed the abundance of books with catastrophic titles that reinforce an apocalyptic vision of tomorrow. The same happens in news and publications. The dominant discourse—ranging from generalist to technical-scientific—tends to unify a sense of imminent loss, anticipatory mourning, and inevitable danger, saturating us with negative messages, whether explicit or implicit. Even though, in most cases, the intention is to raise awareness, is it not possible that this narrative, while confirming data, facts, and conclusions, also generates fear? A fear that prevents action? A paralysis that leads to frustration?

Fear, Emotion, and Ecological Detachment

If fear is the predominant emotion in this discourse, what effect does it have on our ability to respond? Emotions, after all, are the driving force behind our actions—the word itself comes from the Latin movere (to move) and emovere (to stir, to agitate). They mobilize us, affect us, propel us forward, or hold us back. In this context, it is understandable that emotions are used to raise awareness. But when fear becomes the primary tool, the issue becomes more problematic.

Fear has become the predominant social emotion of our time and perhaps the most corrosive. It overwhelms us when we hear news about technologies that threaten to replace us, lurking viruses, extreme ideologies, latent wars, or the possibly irreversible effects of our footprint on the planet. These phenomena share a common denominator: they are vast, uncontrollable, and difficult to grasp. They escape our control to the same extent that they threaten our security. This can generate anxiety and unease, intensifying the feeling of isolation in the digital age.

We have shifted from worrying about local transformations to fearing global ones. As humans become more powerful as a species, so does our impact—especially on ourselves. So much so that we are experiencing a kind of emotional detachment from our environment, which is evident in the phenomenon of ”generational amnesia” or the ”shifting baseline syndrome.” This concept, studied in ecology and environmental sciences, suggests that each generation perceives the state of the environment it experiences as ”normal,” without realizing the extent of the environmental degradation that has occurred over time. In other words, the very changes that should concern us are often invisible because they have gradually become the baseline for our daily existence. As Joseph Kosuth points out, ”We live in a fully enculturated world that is out of control precisely because it operates independently of nature.” This detachment—rooted in our inability to recognize the deeper ecological shifts—is a direct result of our disconnection from the long-term consequences of our actions.

The privatization of the world has reinforced the idea that we are no longer full participants in the life of the planet but merely cogs in a complex mechanism, highlighting binary positions regarding the non-human. In this context, the economy continues to grow while the quality of life for the majority remains stagnant or worsens. The current situation generates an immeasurable amount of pain and suffering across much of the planet. This invites doubt. I, too, have many. But, in the same way, I doubt that this almost dystopian narrative encourages us to imagine other possible futures.

Reimagining the Future: Toward New Myths and Collective Possibilities

Marina Garcés, in A World in Common, refers to this from the perspective of the crisis of imagination and identifies it as one of the main limitations of our time. This is not just a cultural or artistic problem but an inability to think of alternatives and build collectively. According to Garcés, we live in a present that seems unchangeable, where the future is trapped between catastrophic visions and technocratic solutions. Recovering imagination is not merely a creative exercise but a political act—it means challenging the limits of what is possible and constructing real alternatives to the current system.

Another author who reflects on this issue is Glenn Albrecht. Aware of the emotional impact caused by constant exposure to the climate crisis and its consequences, he argues for the need to expand our vocabulary to name these experiences. Thus, he introduces terms such as solastalgia, the deep pain we feel when witnessing the irreversible degradation of our environment, and mermerosity, the anxiety over the disappearance of the familiar and its replacement by something alien. In response to these emotions of loss and anguish, he proposes concepts like eutierria, a sense of connection and harmony with the Earth, and the Symbiocene, a future era in which humanity learns to live in symbiosis with nature, in contrast to the destructive Anthropocene. Through this approach, Albrecht not only expands language but also invites us to imagine new ways of inhabiting the world based on regeneration and balance.

Donna Haraway, for her part, suggests abandoning apocalyptic narratives and constructing new myths that redefine our relationship with the world. In her concept of the Chthulucene, she advocates for learning to live in symbiosis with other species and using speculative fiction as a tool to imagine alternative futures. Ursula K. Le Guin, in a similar vein, critiques the narrative of the ”conquering hero” and proposes myths based on cooperation and radical imagination. These approaches seek to re-enchant our understanding of the world, recover a more interconnected vision of existence, and offer stories that reconcile us with our environment. Yet, this push to create new, more harmonious narratives stands in stark contrast to a deeper paradox: while the need for fresh stories intensifies, the advancement of scientific knowledge—meant to connect us with the environment—is set on an increasingly dehumanized world. This knowledge, which should theoretically reconnect us to the essence of who we are and where we come from, instead often reinforces our emotional and symbolic detachment from the non-human, and even from one another.

In light of these contradictions, Edward Osborne Wilson warns that with the rise of science and the decline of traditional belief systems, societies risk losing unifying frameworks. He advocates not for eliminating the humanities or cultural traditions, but for integrating them with science to create a new shared meaning. This idea mirrors that of María Zambrano, who, in Clearings in the Forest (Claros del bosque), introduces the concept of poetic reason—a form of thought not governed solely by logic, but one that embraces the sacred, the intuitive, and the symbolic. Ultimately, this approach proposes a more holistic understanding of knowledge, one that resists the fragmentation of thought and seeks to counter the ”separations”.

The climate emergency has synchronized human societies. In the ever-changing world we inhabit, it is crucial to question ecocidal notions and stop projecting the future through the same logic. We are in desperate need of new myths —narratives that include us all. It is time to shift away from industrial morality and focus on what truly makes us human: exploration. Let new paths open, let other worlds be imagined within this one, and let real possibilities for humanity emerge. Only then can we give meaning to our time and build a shared future.

Epilogue

To conclude, I would like to return to the late 18th century, this time to speak about another rationalist: Nicolas de Condorcet, one of the most prominent thinkers of the French Enlightenment. Known for his contributions to political and social theory, as well as his advocacy for progress and human rights, Condorcet firmly believed in humanity’s capacity for improvement through education, science, and reason. His vision of the future was tied to the idea of continuous advancement, where knowledge and justice would lead to a more equitable society. For this reason, he championed the abolition of slavery, equal rights for women, and a system based on collective well-being.

Esquisse d’un tableau historique des progrès de l’esprit humain, his most celebrated work, published posthumously, is a manifesto on human potential. In it, Condorcet envisions a future where liberty and equality have triumphed, science flourishes, and humanity, guided by reason, leaves ignorance and oppression behind. However, what stands out most is not his utopianism, but the context in which he wrote this text. Accused of treason by the Jacobins for criticizing the new constitution, he was forced into hiding. For five months, concealed in a friend’s home, he wrote his final work while the sound of the guillotine echoed through the streets of Paris each morning. Eventually, he was captured and locked in a dark, damp cell, where he died under still-uncertain circumstances.

Perhaps his optimism was exaggerated, even naive. Nevertheless, considering the moment in which he formulated these ideas—amid violence and uncertainty, with his own life at risk—his legacy reminds us of something essential: imagining a different future is not merely an act of desire, but a necessity. Like Condorcet, we can recognize the shadows of the present without relinquishing the idea of a better tomorrow. Because, ultimately, all transformation begins with the ability to imagine what does not yet exist.