In 2017, I found myself in a dimly lit hall at Oxford University, captivated by the measured cadence of Professor Ian Goldin’s voice. His words cut through the haze of uncertainty, dissecting the intricacies of global risks with surgical precision. Drawing from his book, The Butterfly Defect, he presented a premise both elegant and ominous: a single, seemingly inconsequential event—like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings—could cascade into a crisis of unimaginable scale. His lecture was a call to understand and manage systemic risks with foresight and precision.
“What will trigger the next global crisis?” he asked. The room stirred with speculation—financial collapse, war, the inexorable march of climate catastrophe. But Ian, deviating from expectation, answered with quiet conviction: “A pandemic.” His voice carried the weight of foreknowledge, describing how disease would leap from hub to hub in our hyper-connected world, spreading with a speed humanity was unprepared to counter. His prediction, dismissed by some as overly cautious, became reality with the COVID-19 outbreak—a crisis foretold yet unheeded.
This foresight was not his alone. The Millennium Project had already warned of such a possibility in 1997, within its State of the Future (SOF) report. Today, that report has reached its 20th edition, an opus of over 500 pages chronicling humanity’s trajectory through the lens of complexity. It does not merely observe; it illuminates, like a lighthouse casting its beam over stormy seas. Herman Kahn, the American futurist and a close associate of Jerome C. Glenn the co-founder of The Millennium Project, once said, “Projecting possibilities does not mean predicting; it means stimulating thought about the unthinkable.” The State of the Future 20.0 embodies this philosophy. It does not predict with certainty, but provokes us to explore the uncharted and confront the unimaginable.
Why do we need the State of the Future? First, it serves as an antidote to intellectual myopia, broadening the perspectives of those who study the future. Second, it evolves—each edition builds upon the last, refining its understanding of the tangled challenges we face. Third, it offers a tool: the State of the Future Index (SOFI), a quantitative compass that projects the world’s condition to 2035 through 29 interwoven variables. It does not promise answers, but it demands we ask better questions and offers a range of actions for government, business, NGOs, universities, UN organizations, and even individuals.
The report unfolds like a vast tapestry, its threads spanning 15 global challenges: sustainable development, artificial intelligence, democratization, inequality, and more. In one section, it critiques the UN Secretary-General’s Our Common Agenda, proposing foresight elements to render the UN more relevant in a fast-changing world. Elsewhere, it envisions the role of AI in 2045—governments run by algorithms, robots in space, even in our most intimate moments. It charts the perilous transition from Artificial Narrow Intelligence to Artificial General Intelligence, drawing on insights from global experts and examining governance models through an international lens.
But the State of the Future is more than a report; it is a mirror reflecting both the chaos and clarity of our times. My journey through its pages began with geopolitics as my guide, steering me toward sections on power rivalries and political transformations. One issue stood out: the growing tensions between the U.S. and India. On one side, the ruling BJP in India fuels baseless accusations of U.S. ‘deep state’ interference; on the other, the U.S., through the State Department, rightly exposes corruption tied to Adani, a conglomerate closely linked to the regime. Amid this swirl of misinformation, the State of the Future issues a stark warning: deceitful narratives not only undermine truth but also ripple through societies, replacing dialogue with discord and intensifying global challenges. Recognizing this, Challenge 4 advocates for implementing policy changes and leveraging technology to counter disinformation and information warfare—an essential strategy to strengthen U.S. foreign policy in an increasingly contested geopolitical landscape.
In my exploration of the State of the Future, I found myself drawn not only to its analysis of global risks but also to its emphasis on the human element at the heart of these challenges. It is easy to become lost in the enormity of the data, the sweeping projections, and the complex interplay of factors that shape our world. Yet, the report repeatedly returns to the idea that the future is not some distant, abstract entity; it is a series of decisions, each one made by individuals, institutions, and societies at large. It challenges us to reckon with our collective responsibility in crafting a world that navigates the complexities ahead rather than succumbing to them.
In this sense, the State of the Future is not merely a forecast—it is a call to action. It is a plea for engagement, for the sharpening of our intellectual tools to meet the challenges that lie ahead. As Kahn’s words echo in my mind, I realize that the future is not written in stone. It is shaped by the thoughts we cultivate today, the conversations we begin, and the actions we take. The State of the Future implores us to reject passivity in the face of uncertainty, to confront the unthinkable not with fear, but with the resolve to understand, adapt, and ultimately, to govern the course of human destiny.
The State of the Future 20.0 is not an easy read—it is dense, demanding, its breadth and depth intimidating. But for those willing to wrestle with its insights, it is an indispensable guide. It challenges us to see not just the future, but the forces shaping it: the opportunities to seize, the perils to avoid, and the decisions that must be made in the quiet urgency of now.