Abstract
This study examines the temporal structure of projected futures. The sociology of time is an established line of inquiry, but the existing literature lacks empirically grounded description of the cultural and cognitive dimensions of projected futures. When individuals imagine their futures, what is the qualitative nature and temporal structure of their projected futures? In order to address these questions, we used a mixed-methods strategy of interviews and surveys with 126 persons from a small college in North Carolina. We asked the participants to tell us about their futures. The resulting descriptions form a strongly chronological pattern. When asked about the immediate future (i.e., tomorrow or next week), they tersely describe the tasks that must be completed. In their descriptions of the near future (i.e., next month or next year), they begin to anticipate enjoyable experiences. When they describe the intermediate future (i.e., five to ten years from now), their responses are characterized by detailed and optimistic enthusiasm for the possibilities they envision. They pay little or no attention to the distant future.
Scholars have long been interested in the unique human ability to remember the past, live in the present, and anticipate the future. Yet, although time has held a central place in sociological thought since the discipline’s inception (Durkheim, [1915] 1965), sociologists have largely neglected incorporating this cognitive dimension into their research on time—this is especially so for projected futures. Although the past only exists in our always selective and imperfect memories, it is still based upon actual events. The future poses similar problems, but is further complicated by being comprised of possible events that have not yet occurred. Its cognitive or imaginary qualities may help us grasp why it has received far less attention from sociologists than the past or present (Adam, 2005). Nonetheless, Mische (2009: 695) urges sociologists to resist their tendency to back “away when it comes to the tenuous, hard to see (or verify) effects of future projections on social action.”
A notable exception to the lack of theorizing on the social imaginary is the work of George Herbert Mead. In The Philosophy of the Present, Mead (1932) makes a compelling case for the study of the future as a cognitive and imaginary but thoroughly sociological phenomenon. He asserts that the tenses of time–past, present, and future–are not essentially distinct or separate entities, as commonly held conceptions would have us believe. They are, rather, fluid and entwined. During what Mead calls the “specious present,” human beings are continuously and simultaneously engaged with the past and the future (Flaherty and Fine, 2001: 149). The future is uncertain, but Mead notes that it influences the present as a set of hypothetical possibilities or goals that people use to guide their current behavior. They construct their hypothetical futures using the cultural “tool kits” (Swidler, 1986) available in their present circumstances. In a very real sense, we “live in” our remembered pasts and anticipated futures—in this way, the future is real in its present consequences.
In a telling passage on the paradox of our temporality, Mead (1932: 42) evokes the metaphor of geographical landscape to illustrate how the past is both “real” and imaginary. As we traverse new hills and valleys in the present, we form new memories of the temporal landscape of our past—the heights and depths are there, but our memories of them are colored by our current place in the present. As the past and the future are both ideations of the mind, Mead’s landscape metaphor is provocative for exploring the temporal topography of the future—the nature and structure of the horizon before us. Mead (1932) distinguishes between two phases of the future—the hypothetical and the immediate—but they are never far away from the present moment where we take our next steps (Flaherty and Fine, 2001). We learn the process by which people imagine the future—and its effect on the present—but not about the structure of the future itself.
Subsequent research did not elaborate on Mead's insights. Bluedorn (2002: 114) conceptualizes the relationship between a society's past and its future in terms of “temporal depth.” This variable concerns the distance into the past or future that people in a particular society typically imagine as they go about their daily lives. Bluedorn demonstrates that, on average, the further backward in time a people look, the further forward they are apt to look. Put differently, the larger a society's past, the larger its future. But following Durkheim ([1915] 1965: 10), who said that time “is like an endless canvas on which all duration is spread out before the mind’s eye,” sociologists have largely conceived of the future as an undifferentiated temporal horizon that people imagine—albeit to varying degrees.
Since the individual's future time perspective (FTP) is largely a cognitive process, it is unsurprising that psychologists have been much more explicit in focusing on the temporal dimensions of projected futures than have sociologists. Carstensen and Lang’s (1996) and Carstensen (2006) FTP scale measures perceptions of the future as being relatively more limited or expansive throughout the life-span and the effects FTP has on goal setting. Similarly, the Zimbardo Time Perspective Inventory (ZTPI) (Zimbardo and Boyd, 2008) measures an individual’s respective orientation to the past, present or future as well as the corresponding values they attach to each temporal period. The authors (2008: 135, 160) identify two future orientations: “the future”, characterized by sacrificing immediate pleasures for future goals and “the transcendental future” that places the payoff of perceived goals in the afterlife. These studies provide an empirical framework that is useful for measuring the effects of time perspective on a multitude of outcomes, but they do not delineate the temporal composition of the future beyond perceptions of limited-expansive or immediate-transcendental.
This interest in our capacity for “mental time travel” (Epstude and Peetz, 2012) is most evident in streams of research that take up Construal Level Theory (Eyal et al., 2004; Read and Loewenstein, 2000; Trope and Liberman 2003, 2010;). Trope and Liberman (2010: 4) examine how people perceive temporally close versus distant objects and how levels of construal—as high or low in detail—mediate decision making in the present: “the different levels of construal serve to expand and contract one’s mental horizons and thus mentally traverse psychological distances.” To use Mead’s metaphor of temporal landscape, these studies focus on our ability to zoom-in on distant or abstract objects on the horizon, but do not demarcate how far our projections extend into the distance or the nature of the topography along the way. For this reason, we need more qualitative work to complement these studies that explores the nature and structure of the futures people imagine “on the ground.”
Tavory and Eliasoph (2013: 909) have parsed previous works on the future into three broad temporal modes of future coordination:
protentions, or moment-by-moment anticipations that actors usually take for granted; actors’ trajectories through time, which proceed in ways that are more or less culturally predictable; and plans and temporal landscapes, overarching temporal orientations that actors experience as inevitable and even natural.
The authors demonstrate, using several case studies, how actors’ projected futures shape their social interactions, but their studies invite more work into how those futures produce either smooth or disrupted interactions relative to the temporal structure. Although we find these analytic distinctions compelling and useful for understanding the role of the future in social interaction, there is still a need to explore the temporal landscape of the future from actors themselves—especially given the observational nature of their data. In an article calling for renewed attention to projected futures, Mische (2009: 698) borrows the metaphor of sociologist Henri Desroche (1979)—that hope is a rope individuals cast into the air that undergirds their actions — and it captures the impetus for this study: Sociologists need to know something about the character of the rope itself: how long or short it is; its thickness, strength, and flexibility; whether it consists of a single cord or multiple interwoven strands; whether it is cast upward to one imagined target or to several targets at once… In other words, we need to study the cognitive contours as well as the relational dynamics of project formation.
The aim of this project is to do just that. Through the qualitative and inductive study of projected futures, we hope to “bridge the analytic gap between outside positionalities and interior worlds, between the social and the individual” (Maynes et al., 2008: 16). And as Flaherty (2011: 6) contends, more robust explanatory theories of time will only come from paying “sustained and empirically grounded attention to routine agentic practices in everyday life,” which includes how people imagine the temporal structure of their future. Our subjects are engaged in time work (Flaherty, 2003).
Methods
When they investigate the future, sociologists are confronted by unique challenges—both theoretically and empirically. Mische (2014) identifies three ways researchers can make future projections visible. We use two of these methods—a survey and qualitative analysis of resulting narratives—to reveal how individuals imagine the future.
Given the questions that prompt this study, it was necessary to obtain firsthand accounts of projected futures. The first author collected the data for this project from a combination of open-ended online surveys and semi-structured interviews during May of 2012. Typically, the interviews provided richer data than did the surveys, but the latter enabled us to collect empirical material from a wider variety of people and substantiated the more elaborate data from the interviews. Furthermore, as Mische (2014) explains, the nature of the respective formats themselves allowed us to collect data on divergent aspects of projected futures. Surveys are particularly useful for quick, automatic responses that capture deep-seated, or unconscious, beliefs about the future; the in-person interview format afforded more time for self-reflective, intentional elaborations. In short, our methods balanced depth through interviews with breadth through surveys.
Our respondents completed 98 questionnaires and 28 interviews. All of the participants were either members of the faculty or students at a small college in North Carolina. The sample is fairly homogenous with respect to racial and ethnic background; since the college draws many non-traditional students, the sample provides some variation across education, occupation, and age. The total sample includes 39 males and 87 females, of which 99 are White, 12 Black, 7 Asian, 4 Other, and 3 Latino. Their ages range from 18 to 64. Of the respondents, 78 were students and 48 were members of the faculty.
All student participants were recruited from several sections of Introduction to Sociology. Participation in the study was completely voluntary, but student respondents were offered an incentive of extra credit. The faculty participants responded to an email sent to a listserv requesting volunteers to help with this research project. Faculty and students had the option of completing the online survey or participating in an interview. The interviews were completed over the course of two weeks at scheduled times and, on average, lasted from 20 to 30 minutes.
The same questions were used for the online surveys and the interviews. We asked respondents to provide information concerning their age, gender, race, education, employment status, and occupation, but the balance of our questions focused on aspects of the future. After the demographic items, we asked respondents to tell us how often they think about the future using the following scale: almost never, sometimes, regularly, frequently, and constantly. Then we asked a series of open-ended questions regarding the future in general: When you think about the future, what things do you think about most? When you think about the future, do certain images come to mind? If so, please describe them. As you think about the things that will happen in the future, when do you see them happening? Please describe what tomorrow will be like for you. What will happen? How will it go? Please describe what next week will be like for you. What will happen? How will it go? Please describe what next month will be like for you? What will happen? How will it go? Please describe what next year will be like for you. What will happen? How will it go?
We used a grounded theory approach for the analysis of our data by searching for themes and variations in the resulting narratives (Glaser and Strauss, 1967). There were two main theoretical commitments that guided our analysis. The first was a desire to “examine social process as subjects experience it from within,” which, as Katz (1988: 135) puts it, “promotes the discovery of internal variation for external validity.” Thus, we wanted to let the respondents speak for themselves as much as possible. The second commitment was to inductive theory construction where data collection and data analysis are viewed as interrelated processes (Glaser and Strauss, 1967). Using an open coding method, we analyzed the data through repeated comparisons of similarities and differences (Strauss and Corbin, 1994). Initial readings produced provisional themes and concepts that were anchored in the data. These concepts later “earned their way into the theory” by repeated representation in the data and were coded as theoretical categories (Strauss and Corbin, 1994).
Findings
We quickly noticed that respondents described segments of the future in two qualitatively divergent ways. Almost without exception, their depictions of the immediate future were bland, routine, and devoid of enthusiasm, but they portrayed the intermediate future in colorful, detailed, and hopeful terms. This, despite the fact that the intermediate future is intrinsically less certain. As we continued coding, it was apparent that the overwhelming majority of our data fit into one of these two broad themes, which we represent with the terms crystal balls and calendars.
We use crystal balls and calendars as categories to describe our data because these cultural symbols represent distinct ways to conceive of time. A crystal ball depicts the future as a specific, yet foggy, visualization of what is to come, while a calendar delineates the future as a sequence of ordinary tasks or events. A crystal ball reveals images of the obscure and uncertain future, whereas a calendar is used for the scheduling of future activities that are more immediate and predictable. In short, crystal balls and calendars symbolize the dominant ways that individuals in this study projected their lives into the future.
The future as a crystal ball
We began each survey and interview with open-ended questions that allowed respondents to define the temporal structure of the future as they saw fit. These questions enabled respondents to specify where particular segments of the future start and stop as well as what they anticipated during each segment. In response to these questions, respondents could describe the contents of whichever future time period came to mind first. With these questions, then, respondents were not “led” to privilege a particular segment of the future.
When you think about the future, what things do you think about most? Almost unanimously, participants answered this question by describing events that would not come to fruition until the intermediate future. A 19-year-old female provides the following excerpt: I would have to say I think about my career and family the most. With my career, I think about where I’m going to be with it, how I’m going to enjoy my job, who I will work with, where I will be located, when will I finish school, and everything else along with it … I want to have a steady career by the time I have a family.
This tendency to think about the intermediate future the most was apparent across different age cohorts in our sample. Many answered the “most” question by describing what their children would be like, their respective careers, or life in retirement. A 43-year-old female member of the faculty projects her concerns across time and space: Okay, so I think about my family. I think about things like, well, how many years my children will be this age—I’ll know they’re going to be driving, I’ll know they’re going to be in college. Will we have enough money? So it’s kind of parent kinds of worries. But I also think about the state of things. Is the economy going to improve? What’s going to happen in the world in the next 10 years? When I’m old enough to retire what are things going to be like? Is there still going to be social security?
As you think about things that will happen in the future, when do you see them happening? An overwhelming majority of participants answered this question by stating that the things they thought about in the future were “five to ten years” away. A representative sample of their responses is below: About ten years out. (61-year-old male) Three to five years. I don’t try to think very long-term. I think short-term (33-year-old male) I guess I kind of project it pretty far out. So I’m thinking when my children are college age. So ten years out and when I’m older, in my sixties. (43-year-old female) I don’t see things happening soon. It would probably be another ten years before I can accomplish everything I want and finally be happy with settling down. (19-year-old female) I hope the things I see in my future come in the next five years or so (20-year-old male)
Summarizing, then, when we ask people what they think about “most” concerning the future, a large majority of their responses concern things that will not come to fruition until the intermediate future. If we ask “when” their future will come to fruition, a large majority of their responses specify a future period that is five to 10 years away. These findings begin to delineate the structure of temporal depth (Bluedorn, 2002) or future reach (Mische, 2009). Given an open-ended format, participants freely privileged intermediate events in their answers to the “most” question, while overlooking the immediate future in their responses to the “when” question.
It is worth noting that their comments do not concern the distant future. A 33-year-old female's reply to the “when” question is illustrative: “Well, like five to ten years I consider to be a relatively short period of time. I honestly do not think about me at the age of 65 or 80. I don’t really want to think about that. So I think about closer [rather] than more distant.” Her perspective was predominant in our data. Generally speaking, participants described events that would occur five to 10 years down the road. Very few of their responses implicated the distant future. Younger participants described the careers and families that they imagined having. Older respondents described retirement or what their children might be doing. Yet no one had much to say about the period when they would be elderly.
These responses provide a basis for distinguishing the immediate future (i.e., tomorrow or next week), near future (i.e., next month or next year), intermediate future (i.e., five to ten years from now), and distant future (i.e., more than ten years from now). Moreover, the data suggest that our attention is not evenly distributed across the temporal terrain of the future. Regardless of age, gender, and education, participants mainly think about the intermediate future. They devote much less attention to the immediate and near futures and largely ignore the distant future. It is remarkable that a relatively narrow segment of the future commands so much of our attention.
When you think about the future, do certain images come to mind? If so, please describe them. With this question, we tried to ascertain the contents of various segments of the future. In other words, this question gives us access to the “scenarios imagined at each stage” in one's projected future (Mische, 2009: 699). As with the first two questions, the overwhelming majority of participants described images from the intermediate future.
We are struck by the consistency in their imagery. Overwhelmingly, their responses are characterized by detailed and optimistic enthusiasm for the prospects they envision. Like the images in crystal balls, their depictions of the intermediate future are filled with colorful, hopeful, but uncertain experiences. They look forward to the intermediate future as a period distinguished by the satisfaction of their desires and advantageous possibilities.
This pattern is stable across various dimensions of social status. A 23-year-old male student not only mentions his desire to be a college professor one day, but imagines giving lectures and interacting with students: Yeah, I think that I tend to think about, more about, being a professor and like what that would look like. Like I’m already thinking about, and this is the reoccurring thing, I’m already thinking about the ways that I would teach a class. That if I’m sitting in a class, I’m thinking about how can I teach that same material in a more interesting way … Yeah, and I look at it like, I think of myself or I picture myself as them, somebody that’s easy to get along with, that students can relate with, but at the same time having that respect from the student.
Our respondents see themselves in the future. The surveys and interviews often forced them to put into words that which they ordinarily experience as images: I always see myself working in some hospital in a busy city. It always comes as images, I want to be a labor and delivery nurse. I wouldn’t mind being in a woman’s hospital if possible. I always see a cozy home for my family with a husband and children. I see my parents being wonderful grandparents and my sister being the best aunt. I always picture myself graduating from college and imagine the look on my parent’s faces of how happy they’ll be and everyone else in my family. Everything dealing with my future comes as images to me when I think about it. (A 19-year-old female) I see myself as being in the human service industry and I picture myself in an office setting, interviewing people and helping people with their problems. (A 57-year-old female)
Across age cohorts, several respondents visualize scenes of peaceful relaxation in an imagined future home: When I think about the future, there are several images that pop up in my head. One is reading the paper in my scrubs before I go to work. Another image that comes to mind is sitting on the front porch when I am older with my husband enjoying a beautiful afternoon. (A 20-year-old female) My dream would be to retire to a cottage on the beach. Sitting on a covered deck in an Adirondack chair, ceiling fan on, looking out over the ocean, reading a good book and drinking a tall glass of iced tea. (A 51-year-old female)
Again, the most noticeable difference across age cohorts was not in the temporal structure of their projected futures, but in the contents. For example, unlike younger participants who imagined potential careers, homes, and spouses, many older participants shifted the focus of their projected futures from themselves to their children. None of our questions concerned children, but almost every participant (regardless of gender) who had children included them in their descriptions of the future. This 32-year-old female imagines possible futures for her children and wonders what they will be doing: I’m going to say I think about what are the ways in which I can make their future better. I also think about what are they going to look like in ten years or how are they going to change over the years? With my oldest, I imagine him, he wants to go into the science field, so I imagine him being more scientific and exploring. He wants to start playing golf, so will he still be interested in that in five years? My daughter dances now. Well, will she continue to improve? Will this be something that she wants to continue to do? Or will she go down a different path? I visualize her being in a job, and it looks like she’s going to be our only child. I can focus on her. I wonder what life will be like for her. What type of job she’ll have, where will she live, will she feel compelled to stay near us? Will she, since I’m in education, will that take her away from us? Will she seek to learn throughout her life?
The responses to our first three questions begin to map the temporal structure of projected futures. When asked what they think about “most,” individuals describe scenarios from the intermediate future. Potential spouses, children, careers, vacations, and homes were mentioned more often than anything else. Asked to specify a time frame for “when” these experiences might transpire, the vast majority of our respondents identify a period of five to 10 years in the future. In short, there appears to be a cognitive preference for this intermediate segment of the future. Asked if certain “images” come to mind when they contemplate the future, respondents depict them in vivid detail and with great optimism. These images resemble what we might see in a crystal ball: colorful, hopeful, and foggy visions of what could occur in the future. Our respondents describe other segments of the future in very different terms.
The future as a calendar
In order to examine the short-term future, we asked respondents to describe tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year. Their descriptions of tomorrow and next week are nearly indistinguishable, so we refer to this period as the immediate future. Likewise, their descriptions of next month and next year are quite similar, so we refer to this period as the near future. Our data indicate that respondents differentiate the near future from the immediate future. We summarize these patterns in the following sections of our paper. In contrast to the intermediate future, our respondents envision the short-term future as a calendar.
The immediate future
When asked to describe tomorrow and next week, our respondents evidence none of the enthusiasm, curiosity, or optimism that they devote to the intermediate future. On the contrary, they have little or nothing to say about the immediate future. Their responses display a dreary familiarity with scheduled repetition. Consider, for example, a 20-year-old male’s synopsis: “Tomorrow I will wake up and do the same routine in the morning. The only thing different from today… is that I work from six to eleven.” In the same vein, a 32-year-old male states, “Tomorrow looks a lot like today. Wake up, go to work, go home, spend time with the family, watch TV, and go to bed. Very routine.” A 44-year-old female is equally terse: “Tomorrow? Honestly, just another day. Another day at school. Same routine. Get up, going to school.” We receive nearly identical remarks from a 57-year-old female: “I get up like every weekday and go to school and come home, do my housework and relax a little and go to bed, get ready to go again.” These responses help us understand why the film Groundhog Day resonates with audiences in its depiction of a protagonist who is forced to repeat the same day over and over again.
Participants described next week in strikingly similar ways. These comments from a 23-year-old male student are typical: “Next week, kind of the same thing, just slightly different in my assignments or what I do at work. Just pretty much, I would say, the exact same thing.” Once again, male and female participants offered very similar responses, which suggests that this pattern is not gendered. A 19-year-old male tells us that “next week… will probably be the same as this week, except I will work on different days.” This 25-year-old female emphasizes the predictability of the immediate future: “I’ll work every day…. I will come home after work, I will make dinner, I will watch TV, and I will go to bed…. every day’s pretty monotonous.” This pattern was consistent across age cohorts, as well. Having just admitted that his schedule is quite “similar” from week to week, a 64-year-old male disavows any frustration: “I mean routine sounds boring and it's not, I mean it's fine.” Using words such as “same,” “routine,” and “monotonous,” our respondents condense tomorrow and next week into the immediate future, which is characterized by the repetition of a calendar.
Given the essential repetitiveness of the immediate future, our respondents “know exactly what's going to happen.” A 44-year-old female uses almost identical wording: “this is what's going to happen” tomorrow. Lengthier descriptions of next week were rare, but the few examples corroborated the emphasis on routine details of one's activity. In the following excerpt, a 33-year-old male stresses the recurrent features of his week: I’m very schedule-oriented actually so pretty much every day’s almost the same. Mondays I’ve got class, and then I go home and I do about an hour or two study time, eat lunch with my brother, and then I spend the afternoon at my computer taking care of some material. Bible study every afternoon on Tuesday, then I go to game night that night. Wednesday’s church. Thursday looks about the same all the time. This Thursday’s been busy. My week is almost literally hour for hour scheduled out. I already have my calendar filled with stuff that I have to do. I know Monday, our usual. Take kids to school, doctor appointment, come home, supper. I have Tuesday ball practice, Wednesday dance, Thursday ball practice and dance. So my week’s already planned out before it even gets here.
The near future
Participants described next month and next year in very similar ways. Thus, we lump these responses together in order to conceptualize the near future. It can be characterized as a transitional segment of the future because it combines features of the immediate and the intermediate future.
The terse and dismissive language several respondents used to describe next month is comparable to what we observed for tomorrow and next week. A 22-year-old female said, “Next month will probably be the same as this month. I have a pretty predictable routine.” A 49-year-old female responds, “Same as this month. Not much change.” However, this was not the dominant pattern.
Instead, a majority of the participants mentioned particular events and went into some detail to describe them. In response to our question concerning next month, there were rarely more than three special occasions they anticipated. They looked forward to these experiences. From a cognitive standpoint, these events stood out against the backdrop of routine and scheduled responsibilities. Comments from a 25-year-old female illustrate this pattern: Same, unless there’s some sort of vacation. I mean, like, nothing really changes until something big changes. The only thing I can think of for the actual month of April that I would be looking forward to is going to visit my parents for Easter. But other than that, no.
The following excerpt from our interview with a 64-year-old male helps us understand how he thought about different segments of the future: The way I look at it, you know, tomorrow we’re looking at we’re just 500 feet up in the air or 400 feet. And then we’re talking about next week we’re 1,000 feet maybe, next month you’re 5,000 feet and then, you know, go on out. So you begin to get the big picture. Next year will be a success because I will join more clubs, be involved in more activities, be a better boyfriend and also be a better son. (19-year-old male) Next year, will most likely be better than this year I will hopefully be transferred by then and start a better school life in the mountains. Other than that I have nothing else planned. (19-year-old male) Next year will be … my first year of being on my own in college. I’m not exactly sure how everything is going to be but I can only imagine it will be as good as I make it to be. (19-year-old female) I don’t know what next year will be like yet. Hopefully I will be pregnant, getting close to done with school and be just as happy as I am today. (22-year-old female) Well next year, my kids will be at a new school, which is kind of exciting. I hopefully will be wrapping up my school. I think it’ll be an exciting time if all goes as planned. And maybe life will slow down but I don’t think it will. (33-year-old female) It will be more of the same, I hope. Same is not a bad thing. That means normal … no crisis … and that’s preferable. But better in some ways. Maybe I will get married … or not. Either way, things are improving; I put up with less and embrace more. I look for life to be better. Again, I hope. (45-year-old female)
As we contemplate the near future, we find ourselves on transitional terrain. This temporal segment of the future is where our thoughts shift from what we have to do to what we hope to do. After describing the immediate future as routine, highly scheduled, and deterministic, a 25-year-old female has this to say about the intermediate future: But after 30, it’s like all systems go. I have no idea. I think about it all the time and what it could be, but I’m not making any plans. I think about, you know, how I would love to own my own studio wellness center, things like that. As far, like, the different stages of my life about, like, being a mom or a wife and stuff like that, I play with the thought, I play with it, you know. Like, I wonder what kind of mom I’d be, I wonder how I would raise my children, I wonder what my husband will look like, those sorts of things. But I don’t expect them to happen the way I expect a career to happen one day, you know. And so those thoughts are much more playful and much more fantastical and just, like, daydreaming really, like, you know, wild as those thoughts can be. Like, oh I’m going to be this or that or whatever but like, because I don’t know that those things will ever happen.
The near future lies between the poles of this continuum. As with the immediate future, much of the near future is prosaic, repetitive, and not subject to the whims of one's imagination. It is largely structured by the calendar. However, we begin to anticipate events that do not occur every day or every week. These are things we want to do, and we look forward to them with some enthusiasm. Unlike our visions of the intermediate future, these events are scheduled and fairly certain. Unlike much of our routine activities in the immediate future, these events are infrequent and desirable.
An Olympic skier reports that, during a downhill run, she is not paying much attention to the segment of the course immediately in front of her: “Your mind is like two sections down the course. You're doing one thing and thinking what you have to do ahead” (Deford, 1997: 80). Like downhill skiers, our respondents do not direct much attention to the immediate future. Instead, they focus on the intermediate future and do their best to ignore the end of the race.
Discussion
Although we can present only a small sample of the data here, participants responded to the interview questions with overwhelming uniformity. No less than 90 percent of the responses fit nicely into the inductive categories described above. Our findings show that the future is not an undifferentiated segment of time. In accord with Mische’s (2009: 699) suggestion for scholars to explore future “reach,” we have parsed the future into four segments: the immediate future (i.e., tomorrow or next week), the near future (i.e., next month or next year), the intermediate future (i.e., five to ten years from now), and the distant future (i.e., more than ten years from now). Clearly, our respondents allocate more cognitive and emotional resources to the intermediate future than they do to the immediate or near future, and they pay almost no attention at all to the distant future. From a practical standpoint, of course, it would be presumptuous to think that one knows (or can even imagine) what the distant future will be like in a quickly changing society. The distant future is a temporal version of terra incognita. What is more, our data suggest that, broadly speaking, there are two different cognitive structures when individuals make future projections that resemble the nature of crystal balls and calendars. In other words, there is the repetitious future (which consists of the immediate future and much of the near future) and the novel future (which consists primarily of the intermediate future).
We are not alone in categorizing time into dichotomous temporal landscapes. Durkheim ([1915] 1965) was the first to conceptualize all of social time into the categories of the sacred and profane. He paved the way for other sociologists like Henri Hubert, Edmund Leach and later, Pitirim Sorkin, and Eviatar Zerubavel who similarly characterized social life in terms of collective temporal rhythms that are distinguished by contrasting elements (Zerubavel, 1981). Findings from this study suggest these same cultural patterns also shape the ways individuals project into the future. The dichotomous nature of time—continuity and discontinuity—that Zerubavel and others describe in calendar and “free” time, shows up continuously in the ways individuals imagine their future as well.
Zerubavel (1985: 106) explains that the seven-day week includes the experience of both ordinary and extraordinary, or “colorful” and bleached, days simultaneously. Assuming a 40-hour workweek, where each of five days are largely characterized by work and routine, the two days of the “weekend” introduce discontinuity and “multi-dimensionality” in an individual’s life by offering more freedom and flexibility in their use of time. In an article on the social experience of vacation time, Karen Stein (2012) argues similarly that vacations and holidays, like weekends and Sabbaths, function as temporal “free intervals” in the same way that Goffman described spatial “free places.” Vacation time is characterized by a break from routine and therefore experienced as “extraordinary.”
The social rhythms of time are characterized by an alternation between order and disorder, ordinary and extraordinary, routine and spontaneous, structure and freedom, sacred and profane. Although Zerubavel does not focus explicitly on the future, it is implicit in many of his conceptualizations. For example, a calendar, as a social convention of time, is a society’s way of ordering and anticipating the events of future time. Furthermore, anthropologist, Kevin Birth (2012), makes a compelling case that as objects of time, clocks and calendars carry with them particular logics that shape the way we internalize and conceive of time. So given the ubiquity of schedule and calendar time in our lives, we might expect these temporal rhythms of the past and present to shape our projections of the future.
In addition to mapping the temporal structure of the future, our data have implications for several lines of sociological inquiry. Since our projected futures make up our cultural-toolkits, they profoundly shape our social interactions (Tavory and Eliasoph, 2013). Swidler (1986: 278) notes, however, that the use one makes of this cultural tool kit differs among those with “settled” and “unsettled” times. Settled times are characterized by unquestioned tradition and common sense that have a constraining effect on new ways of thinking. Unsettled times are characterized by competing ideologies that represent deeply held values, and this creates opportunities for innovative thought and action.
Although these categories represent the cultural present, our data suggest that there are “settled” and “unsettled” futures, as well. The immediate future is defined by the cultural conventions of calendar time. It is the settled future that is characterized by the unquestioned routine and common sense of one's scheduled responsibilities. In contrast, the intermediate future is defined by the uncertain possibilities of a crystal ball. It is the unsettled future that is characterized by the “free” play of imagination and hopeful images of one's possibilities. In our study, respondents described the settled future with very little enthusiasm or detail and with a considerable amount of certainty. Undoubtedly, “tomorrow will be just like today,” and they assumed that they will accomplish various tasks. They described the settled future with a passive terminology by listing things they “have to do” or places they “have to be.” The immediate future was associated with a sense of obligation and repetition. When, however, they consider the intermediate future, they enter a realm of possibility, desires, novelty, and agency. Their projections into the intermediate future were playful, imaginative, enthusiastic, and detailed. Although we did not conduct a textual analysis for grammatical patterns, our data illustrate the usefulness of coding for “future grammars” (Mische, 2014).
Our data also invite scholars to explore the ways macro forces shape the nature and structure of our projected futures (Tavory and Eliasoph, 2013). Guyer (2007: 409) argues that recent developments in the US cultural landscape have created a “relative evacuation of the near future” and infatuation with a glorified distant horizon. Our findings are in accord with this perspective. It is equally important, however, to examine how more hopeful and open futures act back on us in the present. Cerulo (2006) suggests that American culture has created an inability to imagine worst-case scenarios. This “positive asymmetry” is overwhelmingly characteristic of our data concerning the intermediate future. Almost no one mentioned careers they would not attain, marriages that would end in divorce, or their own demise and that of loved ones. The upshot may be a widespread inability to foresee and prepare for unwelcome futures. Thus, the anticipated future may be more powerful in shaping identity, emotion, and action than is the remembered past.
We recognize that our sample, like all samples, contains complexities that future scholars must take into account if they wish to build on our work. On the one hand, our sample is limited by being from a narrow geographical location and predominantly from a single institution so we are cautious about making any universalizing claims about the structure of projected futures across social locations. And we would encourage future work from scholars to explore the temporal structure of the future from diverse social contexts. On the other hand, our confidence in the generalizability of our findings is buoyed by the fact that our data both corroborate and extend the results of previous psychological studies that have found similar patterns (Eyal et al., 2004; Liberman and Trope, 1998). Like those studies, but using very different methods and data, we find that “individuals tend to be more optimistic and confident about distant future than near future outcomes” (Liberman and Trope, 1998: 6). When asked about the immediate future, our respondents feel constrained rather than agentic, resigned rather than enthusiastic, and apathetic rather than hopeful; they are terse rather than detailed in their descriptions.
Furthermore, our data add a qualitative complement to recent studies by psychologists who integrate research from neuroscience that corroborates Mead’s theory of temporality almost a century later. Schacter et al. (2012) find that there is significant overlap in brain activity in the same regions for remembering the past and imagining the future, as well as greater neural activity dedicated to imagining the future given its novel character relative to the past. These brain scanning technologies provide the empirical corollary to Mead’s notion of the specious present, where we use the information from our past to imagine our future. As Mead would have it, we use the ingredients of the past and present in cooking-up our image of the future. Our data show that this is the case for the temporal structure of the future as well.
Footnotes
Authors’ note
The third author worked on parts of this paper while serving at the National Science Foundation, but the content does not represent the National Science Foundation in any way.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
