Imminence, this relationship with hurried time, transforms our reality. Our laws, predating this shift, have become inadequate. A critical awareness is necessary to rebuild a politics of time.
The concept of imminence that I propose describes a rushed, abrupt relationship with time, in which reality is perceived through the lens of imminence. What is not imminent feels less real than what is. For example, with digital tools, this began about thirty years ago with emails: people could reply to a group multiple times per minute, creating exchanges in imminence. The same phenomenon occurs today with WhatsApp groups or notifications that disrupt the present. We believe we are grounding ourselves in a reality whose true weight comes from imminence.
This is not a simplistic or reactionary critique of social media or digital technology, which constitute a significant part of our lived environments. In this domain, oversimplification is culpable: it reductive and builds nothing but sterile postures. Instead, I believe it is essential to delve into these subjects to develop rigorous, nuanced, and real thought, far from simplifications. When I speak of imminence, I do not judge it—I observe it. And I think it is necessary to understand its mechanisms.
When I discuss this imminence, I do not judge it, I note its existence. And I believe it is worth nuancing. For example, if one chooses—which is entirely possible technically—to disable all phone notifications and set the ringer to silent (without vibration or visual alerts), then the communication device (the smartphone) will never impose itself imminently. We can check it at will, reply to messages, make calls, listen to voice notes, browse group chats, and thus reap the benefits of accelerated human communication (which does bring advantages) without suffering the harms of a fragmented present that no longer belongs to us—a present that, it seems to me, is being replaced by imminence at the expense of anchoring in the here and now.
However, one could also argue that our conditions of existence have changed, that life is no longer “here and now,” and that we now inhabit a fluid reality, a kind of omniscient space where our role has shifted—where our role is to be constantly interrupted. Let us refrain from judgment and instead define the concept of law.
Without judgment on either side, let us now define the concept of law. Law is what binds people together. It is a symbolic instance external to each individual, governing how groups function. When I use the term “law,” I go far beyond legal texts: I also include familial and cultural laws—those tacit, oral, or inherited rules of life that have not necessarily been formalized in writing. We must not assume that only post-French Revolution societies operate with laws. All societies have them, even ant colonies, where unwritten rules organize collective life so that each individual can both contribute and benefit. That is the role of law.
At first glance, the imminence governing many human lives today and the law seem to belong to two distinct realms. But I propose examining their dialectic, because, in my view, there is an important question of understanding the link between the two—perhaps to better grasp what is happening to us and possibly make decisions, whether personal or collective, particularly in education but not exclusively. The goal of this article is to illuminate our practices, not merely to critique.
We must also distinguish laws from the law. In this article, I use the two relatively interchangeably, as their connection is deep, but here is the difference:
In short, the law is the real-world embodiment of laws, whether written or not. Without the law, we might self-destruct or destroy one another, for example. The law is a symbolic order governing our reality. A person who commits suicide, for instance, is someone who has decided to override the law—a transgression against oneself, against the law within.
The law governs the reality of humans living in groups. These groups have multiple, interpenetrating levels, of course. Thus, the law addresses the organization of human reality, not their inner worlds—though, naturally, since the law is internalized by group members, it operates through each individual’s imagination while regulating the shared reality among humans.
Our laws date from a still-recent time when digital tools had not yet transformed the quality of reality into one of imminence rather than presence. In my view, the laws we have, whether written or tacit, are not yet adapted to this shift in reality. Reality has changed, but the laws remain those from before its transformation. Of course, these laws—especially unconscious ones—do evolve. They are not purely relics of the past, but I believe it is important to explore their scope and definition to perhaps consciously assess their evolution (or lack thereof) and determine what changes might be necessary. This is one of the aims of this article.
We must acknowledge that reality has changed in nature. And if we are to apply pre-existing legal rules to this new reality, we must take time to disconnect, to step back from this reality, to judge the relevance of applying our law. For example, a human group might decide on phone-free moments. But the decision is not so simple, because the phone may be missed—precisely because it is missing from reality. If an integral, defining part of reality is removed, reality itself will lack something essential. Thus, it is not at all easy to distance ourselves from the reality we inhabit, because it is precisely our reality—the one we are immersed in—that has changed, and by definition, we have no distance from it.
Therefore, I believe what we must realize—and this is also the point of this article—is that we are “trapped” in a modified reality, one largely defined by imminence, and within this imminence, we are trying to apply old laws. They are utterly ill-suited. And if we enforce them—for example, as parents, by forcing a child to stop using their phone—they will suffer in real terms. A part of their reality will be forbidden. Thus, our prohibition of phone use is itself an act of imminence: it must be done immediately, because we perceive screen time as an immediate danger. In this way, we are caught in the same system of representation we are trying to fight, convinced (without fully understanding how) that it harms our children—yet imprisoned by an injunction to act immediately, imminently, without reflection on why.
Thus, I believe it is essential to recognize that failing to rethink the necessary evolution of the law in response to the transformation of reality—which now carries an imminence that did not exist before—prevents us from applying the law in a way that is relevant to reality.
So how do we proceed? Should we write new laws? But not all laws are written—so what can we do? It seems to me that we must recognize that our laws, whether cultural or legal, are relatively disconnected from our new realities. And to enforce these laws, we must first step back from the new foundations of our reality and acknowledge that our laws are either inadequate or overly simplistic because they stem from our subconscious, our emotions, and our thoughts.
If we do not do this work, our laws—applied directly in reaction to an imminent new reality—will be entirely unfit for purpose. That is, they will contradict their very principle, which is the harmonious organization of the world (keeping in mind that everyone has their own vision of harmony, and each group carries a different harmonic ideal). Without this work, outdated laws produce the opposite of their intended effect. Because they, too, will be trapped by imminence. They cannot account for the fact that we are now in a reality where a significant part is defined by imminence, since they were established before. They will systematically miss the mark, producing the opposite of what they are meant to achieve, while those enforcing them remain convinced of their righteousness: “It’s the law, this is how it must be done, this is what is written, this is what I was taught.” But they fail to realize they are applying a law ill-suited to a new reality—one where new laws must be founded on a clear-eyed understanding of this reality’s elements.
This is very difficult because we are living this reality. And it is also quite fluid, shaped by technological advancements and evolving practices. Precisely for this reason, we must make the effort to critically distance ourselves from our present moment—that is, to step out of imminence in the here and now. This is a subtle distinction, undoubtedly hard to implement, but absolutely essential.
We witnessed the absolute pinnacle of an imminent reality that, at high speed, produced totalitarian spaces during the Covid period—particularly in France, where the imminence of decisions, made in total opacity, total incoherence, and a complete absence of democratic debate under the pretext of an imminent threat, led to human disasters. It fueled unresolved conflicts between people who previously got along, social disasters, mental health crises, public health failures, and more. It seems to me that if, in the present itself, we had constructed a critical discourse on the issue of imminence, we might not have so easily sunk into a totalitarianism embraced by a large portion of citizens who firmly believed in the imminent threat as reality—when, with hindsight, we now know it was false. This false reality was internalized by the majority as the reality, due to a failure to step back and question the role of imminence as a new definition of the real.
In other countries, like Germany—not so distant from France—there were numerous debates about the protective measures to implement against what was initially believed to be a highly dangerous epidemic. This later proved untrue, but the belief was there, and such things can indeed happen. There, due to its political structures, various experimental approaches were taken, as there was obviously no single “correct” collective response. Different countries responded to the epidemic in extremely diverse ways—and the totalitarian, imminent methods were not the most effective in terms of public health, contrary to what many believed at the time.
Thus, this critical distancing from the issue of imminence is not a risk, nor a waste of time in the face of an imminent danger. On the contrary, it equips us with the capacity for political thought, for crafting laws that truly adapt to reality as it is—rather than simplistically applying outdated, unfit laws within the realm of imminence. The absence of thought renders laws prisoners of this imminence, and—as happened in France—many people, believing they were doing the right thing by applying legal tools, actually made things worse.
The neglect of the elderly in nursing homes, for example, and the isolation they endured, had severe consequences in terms of mortality. Why? Because there was imminence—a use of law within imminence, without distance. In this case, it was the imminence of collective fear of death that paradoxically caused many deaths among the elderly—likely far more than if the law had not been hijacked by imminence, thus producing the opposite of its intended goal: to protect everyone.
This is why the issue is profoundly political—and we must not delude ourselves. Some are well aware of the opportunities imminence presents. This is, in fact, well-documented in commercial tactics: “This sale lasts only three hours!” Imminence drives action, and the instrumentalization of the feeling of imminence is a form of manipulation—though it can occur without a manipulative demigod. People can manipulate themselves through imminence, convincing themselves that if they don’t act immediately, everyone will die or they’ll miss the deal of the year.
This relationship with time can also be approached through the lens of Olivier Houdé’s cognitive resistance—resisting reflexive thinking, resisting imminence to build one’s own critical thought, in the individual sense: what I think, not what others think for me. To achieve this, we must resist automatic thought patterns favored by imminence. It is a powerful tool for combating imminence, ultimately allowing us to see our reality clearly—including the fact that it has an imminent dimension—and to recognize that we may be prisoners of it.
There is another perspective: this imminence could be a dopamine addiction, etc. Yes, that is undoubtedly part of why we remain in this state. And once again, circling back to the start of this piece, I am not saying all rapid communication tools are useless. But in my personal opinion—which is, of course, open to debate—it is very useful to step out of the psychological state of imminence, for example, by disabling notifications, precisely to become aware that part of our reality has become imminent.
Because if we are immersed in it, we don’t even realize our reality is imminent—we are too deep inside it. But if we create distance, through disconnection, we can illuminate our consciousness about this new imminent dimension of reality. For example, disconnecting for a while, disconnecting at regular intervals, or not keeping a phone by the bed at night—all these small tricks allow us to step back and recognize that yes, part of our reality is anchored in imminence. And it is simply useful, both for ourselves and for the collective space, to be aware of it. From there, everyone can develop their own approach, whether in personal, professional, educational, artistic, or other domains.
Living with our contradictions
The philosophy of compromise recognizes that we constantly live in the gap between our principles and our actions, between our ecological ideals and our daily consumption, between our desire for justice and our accommodations with the system. This cognitive dissonance is not a moral weakness but an essential component of our complex humanity. Dignity is not decreed but conquered in the paradoxical exercise of a freedom that operates despite and with our contradictions. Authentic engagement is born not from denial of our fears but from their conscious traversal - for denial of fear creates precisely the fertile ground for demagogues and manipulators. Imminence, this pressed relationship to time that characterizes our era, pushes us to permanent compromises between the urgency of action and the time necessary for reflection. Faced with this tension, the ethics of presence proposes not to resolve contradictions but to consciously inhabit them, to transform suffered compromise into chosen compromise. Between impossible militant purity and disillusioned cynicism, a path opens: that of a benevolent lucidity that recognizes our limits while keeping alive the demand for transformation.