Arthur C. Clarke, the author of 2001: A Space Odyssey, was one the 20th century’s most brilliant science fiction writers and futurists. Along with fellow writers and futurists like Alvin Toffler (author of Future Shock), Isaac Asimov (I Robot), HG Welles (The Time Machine), George Orwell (1984), Gene Roddenberry (Star Trek), Marshall McLuhan (The Medium is the Message), Ray Bradbury (Fahrenheit 451), and Buckminster Fuller (Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth), Clarke’s work entertained and inspired generations of students, educators, inventors, and policymakers.
But Clarke was well aware of the limits of his predictive abilities. “The future,” he wrote, “is not to be forecast, but created.” The reality is probably somewhere in between. Futurists look at history, trends, politics, current events, technology, and social norms, and from this stew of factors predict where humanity will be in the coming years. Roddenberry’s Star Trek spoke forcefully against plagues like racism and war and offered a future where good can eventually triumph over evil, but only after the world unites in common cause; Orwell spoke of the horrors of a surveillance society, Welles of the disconnect between societies and the technology that rules them, and McLuhan about the gravitational effect communication has on thinking (see also, social media). To the extent predictions like these can help clearly expose our shortsightedness and prejudices, inspire us to action, encourage students to become scientists, help civic and government leaders prepare for the future, and help businesses find new opportunities or help great ideas align, future forecasts are good things.
To the extent, however, we should believe futurists actually know what’s coming next, we need to be mindful of how much stock to put in these forecasts. Future forecasting has for millenia before Clarke and decades after always been big business. In 1400 BC there was Pythia, the priestess of Apollo, answering questions about the future from the Oracle of Delphi in Greece. In ancient Rome, around 200 BC, the Sibylline Books provided prophecy the Romans consulted in times of crisis. In the Western world, religious prophecies dominated futurist thinking in the era between ancient Rome and modern times, from Isaiah, Daniel, and Ezekiel, to John the Baptist, Christ, and Muhammad. Magical prophecies were also very influential during this period, from figures like Merlin, to astrological forecasts, divination (fortune-telling), witchcraft and sorcery (none of these forecasting methods have since disappeared, of course). By the mid-1500s, Nostradamus was busy publishing his predictions about the fate of the world, and by the late 1800s, Jules Verne captivated readers with his futuristic tales of exploration by submarine (20,000 Leagues Under the Sea), hot air balloon (Around the World in Eighty Days), spelunking (A Journey to the Center of the Earth) and spacecraft (Around the Moon).
Verne’s work is generally regarded as the true beginning of science fiction, leading to the “golden era” of science fiction between the 1930s and 1960s. During this period, some of the most culturally significant and socially conscious novels and screenplays of the past century were written, including important science fiction work probing where our technology and social conventions would eventually lead us. Fast forward to today, physicist and futurist Michael Kaku predicts we will soon be able to communicate directly from brain to brain via the Internet, and computer scientist and futurist Ray Kurzweil predicts 3D printing will revolutionize everything from health care (through the widespread availability of printable replacement organs) to what we eat (printed food) to 3D-printed affordable houses. Other common themes—both today and throughout the years—involve combatting (or succumbing to) emerging infectious diseases, developing new sources of energy, inventing new modes of transportation, succumbing to environmental change, and reaching farther out into space.*
Another common theme of all these forecasts is inaccuracy, especially for predictions that extend decades or centuries into the future. A famous example of just how wrong we can be involves the horse poop apocalypse.** In the late 1800s, the world’s major urban centers were struggling to dispose of increasingly large piles of horse manure. Horses were still the dominant form of transportation, and city streets were piling high with millions of pounds of horse manure every day. Architects in New York began building stoops on all new buildings, elevating front entrances a half-story from street level so they could stay above the mountains of waste and all the flies and rats it attracted. New York city planners predicted that at the current rate of accumulation, city dwellers would be buried several stories deep in horse manure by the 1930s. Something had to be done.
When the world’s first international urban-planning conference was held in New York in 1898, it was dominated by discussion of the manure situation. But the architects, public health officials and social workers who attended were unable to imagine cities without horses—industrialists and innovators were not invited because urban planning at the time was mostly about architecture—so the conference adjourned after just three days. Fortunately, a technological solution to this crisis emerged soon thereafter. Electricity had just started arriving to cities in the late 1800s, and the internal combustion engine was catching on. By the early twentieth century, cars outnumbered horses and electric trolleys replaced horse drawn ones. The manure crisis was averted (albeit, exchanged for the beginning of the climate crisis).
This parable has been told many times with varying aims. Climate change deniers have used it to claim we shouldn’t worry about global warming because technology will come to the rescue; anti-regulation types have used it to suggest that all government policymaking efforts are comically flawed. Here, the point is simply that experts make bad predictions all the time, from the architects, public health officials, and social workers who met in New York to discuss the future of horse waste, to the many business, military and engineering tycoons around the world who never saw a practical use for what the Wright brothers had invented, to politicians who never saw the need for social safety nets, to tech wizards who thought the computer would never amount to more than an electronic recipe box, to techno utopianists who thought the Internet and social media would only lead to global peace and understanding. For challenges as complex, interconnected, and unknowable as predicting the future, we can make educated guesses, but the track record of these guesses isn’t great.
All this said, businesses and governments still rely on forecasts for everything from preparing for population growth and demographic shifts, to managing social and economic trends, to keeping abreast of changing customer demands. There is a real and practical need for forecasting, so forecasters are everywhere, in every business, institution and government agency. At the international level, futurist Jerome Glenn runs the Millenium Project. In their global surveys of scientists and policymakers, Glenn’s group came up with this list of the top 15 challenges facing humanity:
In their annual reports to the international community on these questions, the project reports where we are winning and where we are losing.
Where we are winning | Where we are losing or there is no progress |
GNP per capita | Freedom |
Poverty | Wars and armed conflicts |
Women in national parliaments | Biocapacity per capita |
Life expectancy | CO2 |
School enrollment | Renewable fresh water resources |
Literacy rate | Forest area |
Electricity from renewables | Physicians per capita |
Energy efficiency | Foreign direct investment |
Access to drinking water | Unemployment |
Health expenditure per capita | Income inequality |
Undernourishment | Terrorism |
Infant mortality rate | Population growth |
Patent applications | Public sector institutional stability |
R&D expenditures | |
Internet users |
These future forecasts aren’t as sexy as Merlin, Clarke, or Jules Verne, but they may ultimately be more helpful for policy planners than thinking about spaceships and brain implants, at least in the here and now. Still, it’s all pretty broad—a list like this covers a lot more ground than any single government agency administrator might be able to grasp. And what does a forecast this broad even mean unless you’re planning at the IGO level? In fact, even at this level, sweeping efforts like the United Nations’ seventeen Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs), cover everything from poverty to water to education, gender equality and peace. If a government or industry leader is looking for clear guidance about what will happen in the next 10 years, where do they start? IGOs, NGOs and governments try to align their various programs with SDGs, but this is more tactical alignment than strategic. Where is the strategic big picture?
Let’s say we wanted to identify just the super most important “Big 3 issues” today and figure out how to align our plans with these issues. To identify these Big 3, we might want to use these rules:
If we take this approach—if we look just at the low hanging fruit at the moment and guess how this might ripen over the next 10 years—you can make a pretty reasonable guess for what our future harvest will look like. Here, then, are the “Big 3 Ripest” issues to watch between now and 2033:
There are, of course, many other predictions worth noting—just about as many as there are stars in the sky: expert, inspirational, spiritual, or apocryphal; grounded in data, trends, deep expertise, business hunches, or snake oil. And while these short term predications listed above might be sure bets, they may also end up being completely wrong if something happens tomorrow that changes everything—new energy discoveries, massive environmental or econmomic changes, or war. Here’s hoping the coming years will be more positive than negative. In the meantime, take all predications about the future with a giant grain of salt, and watch out for the horse poop.
* Apologies to sci-fi fans for the too-brief overview. Lots of details have obviously been glossed over in this one-paragraph history.
** The horse poop apocalypse story has been copied with permission from Considering evidence-based approaches to open policy (OSI Global).
Additional reading:
Glenn is Executive Director of the Science Communication Institute and Program Director for SCI’s global Open Scholarship Initiative. You can reach him at [email protected].