
MAY 3 — Futures studies has often been treated as an intellectual luxury—something produced by a small circle of thinkers and consumed by policymakers at the top.
This perception is no longer sustainable.
In a world defined by overlapping crises—from artificial intelligence to climate instability and geopolitical fragmentation—the discipline must be recast as a practical tool for society at large.
The evolution of futures thinking can be traced to early pioneers such as Alvin Toffler and Heidi Toffler. Their landmark work, Future Shock, captured the anxiety of a world accelerating beyond human adaptability.
Published at the dawn of the information age, the book argued that technological and social change could overwhelm individuals, leading to stress and dislocation.
More than five decades later, this insight feels less like a warning and more like a description of daily life.
Similarly, John Naisbitt, through Megatrends, offered a broad mapping of societal transformation. His work influenced governments and corporations by highlighting the shift from industrial to information economies.
Yet both approaches share a structural limitation. They are rooted in top-down analysis.
The future is interpreted by a select group and then communicated outward. This risks reducing futures studies into a passive exercise, where societies merely absorb projections rather than shape them.
Futures thinking is increasingly seen as a shared human practice, shaped not only by experts but by everyday people navigating change together. — Unsplash pic
A more recent contribution challenges this model fundamentally.
In “Introduction to Islamic Futures Studies,” Ziauddin Sardar and Mirza Sarajklic argue that futures thinking is already embedded in everyday life.
Their central premise is disarmingly simple: ordinary people are constantly thinking about the future. Concerns about employment, technological change, or economic security are all forms of foresight.
This reframing shifts futures studies from an elite domain to a shared human practice.
A key concept they introduce is “polylogue”—a pluralistic conversation that cuts across cultures, disciplines, and civilizations.
In an age of “polycrisis,” where economic, environmental, and political disruptions reinforce one another, no single narrative can capture reality. Neither is there the certainty of “polytunities,” the readers must be warned.
This is not necessarily a feel good book but a clarion call to understand the past, present and future as a seamless whole.
The future must therefore be negotiated collectively, not dictated from above.
At the same time, the book issues a caution about the growing dominance of external knowledge systems.
Digital technologies—especially artificial intelligence—are largely designed and controlled by major powers.
These systems embed assumptions and biases that shape how knowledge is produced and circulated.
This creates what can be described as digital dependency.
Societies that rely entirely on imported frameworks risk losing their capacity to think independently about the future.
For regions such as Asean and the Gulf, this is not a theoretical concern. It is a strategic one.
Without indigenous foresight capabilities, they risk becoming reactive actors in a rapidly shifting global order.
The book also reminds readers that futures thinking has never been politically neutral.
Historical figures like
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt, who wrote about Muslim societies in the 19th century, often framed their ideas within imperial contexts.
In urging Muslims in the Levant or Orient to rise up to reclaim their futures laid the agenda to break the Ottoman Empire apart.
Blunt’s connections to Winston Churchill underscore how knowledge production can align with power structures.
This historical awareness reinforces a key lesson: futures studies must always be approached critically, with an understanding of who is producing knowledge and for what purpose.
Malaysia occupies a distinctive position in this intellectual landscape.
For decades, thinkers like Ziauddin Sardar have contributed to the country’s role as a bridge between civilizations.
Initiatives linking global audiences to Islamic thought have demonstrated that alternative perspectives can coexist with dominant paradigms. However, the book is careful not to romanticise discourse.
The lived experience of Mirza Sarajklic—particularly his witnessing of the Bosnian War—serves as a stark reminder that ideas alone do not prevent catastrophe.
Without action, even the most sophisticated frameworks can fail to avert violence and instability.
The authors extend this concern to contemporary politics.
The resurgence of far-right movements across Europe signals how quickly political systems can shift.
Democratic institutions, often assumed to be stable, can be reshaped by waves of nationalism and populism.
Futures studies, therefore, must move beyond linear projections. It must grapple with sudden ruptures and nonlinear change.
What distinguishes this book is its ethical grounding.
Drawing on Islamic intellectual traditions, including references to the Quran and Hadith, the authors provide a moral framework for navigating uncertainty.
This is not presented as an exclusive worldview. Rather, it offers universal insights into resilience, balance, and engagement with diversity.
The life of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) is invoked as an example of leadership under uncertainty—where continuity and change must be carefully balanced.
Such lessons resonate far beyond any single tradition, however. Hence it is not quaint to see the book referring to the likes of Prophet Moses even; for that matter other great messengers of peace, even Adam and Eve.
The book also situates contemporary society within what it calls a “post-normal” condition.
In this environment, complexity is the norm, and predictability is the exception.
Challenges such as nuclear risk, environmental collapse, and technological disruption are interconnected. They cannot be addressed in isolation.
This makes futures studies----the authors insist they must be plural as future is not linear but multi-linear---not just relevant, but indispensable in a turbulent world.
Countries that define themselves as trading states, practically the whole world except North Korea, even if the latter trade in fissile and nuclear technology too, cannot avoid the importance of futures studies.
Importantly, the tone of the book avoids extremes.
It neither succumbs to pessimism nor indulges in technological optimism.
Instead, it offers a measured reflection on human vulnerability and capacity.
Without Future Studies there is no way a government can handle the brewing energy, economic and employment crisis that is about to hit the world due to war in places such as Ukraine, Iran, indeed, Sudan and Gaza too.
Readers are reminded that while uncertainty is unavoidable, human agency remains intact.
For policymakers, the implications are profound.
Futures studies must be embedded within governance structures. It should inform education, public policy, and institutional planning.
For Asean, this is particularly urgent.The region sits at the crossroads of great power competition, digital transformation, and environmental stress.
A reactive posture is no longer sufficient. Strategic foresight must become part of its diplomatic and developmental toolkit.
Ultimately, this book reframes futures studies as a collective endeavour.
The future is not something that happens to us. It is something shaped by our choices, values, and actions.
Moving beyond imitation toward participation is not just an intellectual shift. It is a necessity for survival in an increasingly uncertain world.
* Phar Kim Beng is professor of Asean Studies and director, Institute of Internationalization and Asean Studies, International Islamic University of Malaysia.
** This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.