To promote discussion, this panel includes three 15-minute presentations.
The first paper addresses the early twentieth century, when “belief in an open public sphere weakened” in the face of rapid social and technological changes, prompting some to deem the “delegation of political power to technocrats as essential” and others to call to “safeguard people’s rights to design and deliberate on their own futures” (Jasanoff, “Sience and Democracy” 263). In “Speculative Fiction and Anti-Utopian Technocractic Society in Spain,” Anna Torres-Cacoullos examines Camilo Millán Villanueva’s narrative “Una historia de amor en el siglo XXI” (1902), which envisions a future Spain dedicated to the intellectual and biological perfection of humanity. Beyond a mechanized system of courtship and marriage, this narrative presents a technological utopia: doctors, aerial engineers, rapid travel, global commerce, and efficient communication. But beneath lies an anti-utopian vision—one where work, productivity, and mechanization dominate, leaving no space for sentiment, familial ties, or personal subjectivity. Ultimately, Millán Villanueva’s story critiques any utopianism that might arise from a society obsessed with work and efficiency.
In the second paper, “Technofascism: On Madness and the Twilight of Neoliberal Reason,” José Luis Suárez Morales reads Benjamín Labatut’s novel Un verdor terrible (2020) along with Chile’s role in shaping global technocracy and its darker side: madness. Devised by a cohort of powerful technocrats, Augusto Pinochet’s economic reform (1973-1990) was a workshop for neoliberalism in which economic rationality replaced democracy by force. While centering on European, Japanese, and US-American scientists, Labatut’s novel shows that, much like in Chile, technics and reason become the grounds for legitimacy, madness, and irrationality—themselves products of a technocratic reason. Labatut’s meditation on madness as part and parcel of extreme rationalization affords a means to engage a contemporary world with outbursts of seemingly irrational and illiberal populist movements.
Lastly, in “Mobility, Space, and Sensory Experience,” Elizabeth Barrios shows how Ricardo Montiel’s “Estar montado” expands the scope of Venezuelan oil literature by shifting attention from extraction sites to the structures of urban life in Maracaibo. Drawing on Victor Seow’s concept of carbon technocracy, this paper examines how Montiel’s essayistic narrator maps the city’s bifurcation into la ciudad del sentado (drivers)—where fossil-fueled transport fosters isolation—and la ciudad del caminante (walkers)—where movement at a human pace exposes environmental degradation and sensory overload. As Seow argues, technocratic visions often misalign with lived realities, benefiting the few at the expense of the many. In Maracaibo, this logic privileges drivers while rendering walking not just difficult but nearly subversive. “Estar montado” unsettles the illusion of oil’s placelessness, prompting a reevaluation of how petroleum-driven development reshapes space, mobility, and social relations in contemporary Venezuela.
This panel showcases a diverse range of perspectives by including participants from different genders at different career stages, scholars of different national origin who focus on different areas within the Hispanic World and work at different types of institutions (R1, R2, and LAC).