The Imagination Deficit: Why Our Collective Futures Lie Dormant and How to Change This
A year ago, I first read the paper The Imaginary Crisis by Sir Geoff Mulgan. Since then, I’ve kept coming back to it—referencing it in conversations about AI, democracy, and the future. The paper describes something many of us feel but struggle to articulate: we are living through a crisis of imagination.
We can easily picture dystopias—climate collapse, AI dominance, authoritarinism. But when asked to envision a better world in 30 years, we hesitate. What does a more just, sustainable, and democratic society look like? Who is shaping those visions? And why does imagining alternatives feel so difficult?
If we lack the ability to imagine different futures, we become trapped in the present. We react instead of shaping. We tweak existing systems instead of designing new ones. And in the vacuum left behind, the future is increasingly dictated by a handful of actors—whether tech billionaires pushing visions of AI-driven governance or policymakers clinging to 20th-century models for 21st-century problems.
At a time when the future is being defined by the few, reawakening social imagination has never been more urgent.
How Did We Get Here?
Everything around us—our institutions, our economies, our systems—did not emerge naturally. They were imagined first. Democracy, human rights, public education, even the internet—all began as ideas, often dismissed as unrealistic before they took shape.
For centuries, utopian thinking played a role in shaping the world. Works like Thomas More’s Utopia (1516) or the socialist manifestos of the 19th century weren’t just literature; they were blueprints that inspired revolutions, social movements, and political transformation.
Another factor fueling the imagination deficit is our collective loss of faith in progress. For much of the 20th century, societies were driven by grand narratives—whether the promise of economic growth, technological utopias, or political ideologies that aimed to build a better world. Today, many of those narratives have either collapsed or lost credibility.
The assumption that each generation will have a better life than the last is no longer a given. In this void, cynicism and inertia can take hold, making it even harder to envision meaningful alternatives. If we are to reignite social imagination, we need new stories—ones that don’t just critique the present but provide hopeful, tangible visions of what could come next.
Today, however, much of that ambition has faded. Many of the institutions that once played a key role in envisioning the future—universities, think tanks, political parties—have shifted focus to short-term problem-solving. Governments, preoccupied with managing crises, rarely plan beyond the next election cycle. Meanwhile, the most visible future visions tend to come from Silicon Valley, where the emphasis is on technological solutions rather than social transformation.
The result? Futures shaped by algorithms rather than ideals, by market forces rather than collective will.
The Imagination Deficit in Action
This lack of social imagination plays out in real-time across the biggest challenges of our era:
AI and Governance
While AI is reshaping decision-making, who is designing the democratic structures that will govern it? Discussions about ethics and technology often lag embarrassingly far behind the technological advancements.
Climate Action
Most climate narratives revolve around avoiding catastrophe, but where are the compelling visions of thriving post-carbon societies? Without them, it’s harder to mobilize action.
Democracy
In many parts of the world, political engagement is declining. Polarization thrives, but large-scale collective action feels increasingly out of reach. Hyperpolitics amplifies individual expression but weakens sustained movements for change.
We need new visions—not just to avoid collapse, but to inspire action.
Rehearsing the Future Before It Arrives
One way to break free from the imagination deficit is to practice imagining. This idea—what Rob Hopkins calls rehearsing the future—has been central to human progress. Before landing on the moon, we simulated every step through stories, films, and collective hope. Science fiction has long been a testing ground for ideas that later became reality.
I was reminded of this recently at a workshop in Copenhagen led by Hopkins, co-founder of the Transition Towns movement. Instead of discussing the future in abstract terms, we were guided through immersive storytelling, stepping into imagined worlds through soundscapes and narrative. For a moment, the future wasn’t an intellectual exercise—it was something we could feel.
One of the most striking moments came when a participant simply stated: “I’ve been to 2035, and we made it.”
That stuck with me. Change is often slower than it should be, but imagining futures where we succeed is the first step toward making them happen.
How Do We Reignite Social Imagination?
So, how do we get unstuck?
Look to the Past
Recognizing that past generations shaped their futures reminds us that change is possible. Democracy, universal healthcare, environmental protections—none of these were inevitable. They were imagined, fought for, and built.
Spot Early Signals of Change
New futures often emerge on the fringes before becoming mainstream. Whether it’s community-led energy projects, new democratic experiments, or post-growth economic models, we need to tune into these signals and nurture them.
Prototype Possible Futures
Future ethnographies, scenario-building, and social simulations allow us to “test-drive” different futures. If we can experience alternative futures—even briefly—it becomes easier to work toward them.
Move Beyond Individualism
Hyperpolitics has trained us to focus on personal expression over collective action. We need to rebuild the infrastructure for long-term political and social mobilization—spaces where people can shape futures together, not just react to events in isolation.
The Future is a Conversation
Mulgan argues that we need to democratize imagination, making it something that belongs to everyone—not just policymakers, CEOs, or tech elites. I agree. The future isn’t just a place we arrive at. It’s something we shape through the stories we tell, the movements we build, and the possibilities we allow ourselves to believe in.
History teaches us that what seems politically impossible today can become inevitable tomorrow. But only if we imagine it first.
So, what kind of futures are you longing for? And how can we start rehearsing them today?
SourcesSir Geoff Mulgan – The Imaginary Crisis (2023): Read here
Rob Hopkins – Ministry of Imagination (2023): More on his work
UNESCO Futures Literacy: Why imagination matters
