Futurism is strategy and storytelling

The team at my new marketing agency tell me that people don’t know what futurism is, let alone ‘applied futurism’.

I think they’re probably right.

What is futurism to you? (Please don’t say ‘a fascist art movement’).

For me, it’s about two things: strategy, and storytelling.

Futurism is strategy

My friend, former colleague, and creative problem-solver extraordinaire Phil Lewis of Corporate Punk pointed this out to me yesterday. When I look back at everything I’ve written about applied futurism, it turns out I’ve always been saying this, but never clearly or explicitly enough. Futurism is strategy.

Strategy is a long term plan built in the face of uncertainty. The tools of applied futurism inform that strategy and clear some of the uncertainty. That’s perhaps why many of my customers are people who are fearful of the future, either for their company or their industry. A smaller number are excited about the opportunity.

Futurism is storytelling

Whether you want to compel people to follow your strategy, or whether you simply want to show some thought-leadership on the issues of tomorrow, you have to translate your vision of tomorrow into a story. This is a crucial part of futurism and largely explains the remainder of my customer base: brands and marketing agencies who are looking to say something new.

Futurism is the writing and telling the story of tomorrow’s strategy. But it appears I still need to work on the story of futurism.

The art of the probable, the possible, and the desirable

‘The art of the possible’ is a phrase historically associated with realpolitik. It has come to mean ‘achieving what we can (possible), rather than what we want (often impossible)’. But as this piece in the New Statesman points out, it was once used a little more optimistically as a challenge to aged ideas.

For me, science is a much more optimistic ‘art’ of the possible than politics. It explores the boundaries of what the laws of physics permit us to achieve, pushing back those boundaries with knowledge all the time. Inside the envelope defined by science, everything else comes down to choices.

The art of the probable

What, then, is the art of the probable? What shapes those choices inside the bounds set by science?

For the most part, it is money. What is most profitable, or affordable, seems to be the greatest predictor of what will be. Technology drives change, but the direction of that change is largely steered by financial considerations.

There are, of course, other motivations — moral, emotional, environmental. But in our capitalist economy, and (still) reasonably stable democracy, dominated for most of the last thirty years by a particular strain of economics, money tends to drive what’s next.

The art of the desirable

Whether I'm writing or speaking, this reality often causes people consternation. They confuse what I believe will be the case, with what I would like to be the case. They confuse futurism, with politics — the art of the desirable.

You can’t eliminate politics, or personal bias, from your perspective. That’s why I do my best to systematise my analysis. But it will always be, to some extent, subjective.

Arguing for what you would like to see is the job of a politician. I can do that, but it’s not what people pay me for. They pay me to try to be objective about what I think — given all the factors — is possible or likely to happen.

Until the dominant political ideology goes through a major shift, that will largely be a case of understanding how economic factors shape choices within the boundaries defined by science.