Philosophy of The Future: Global Problems of Contemporary Society

The Forecasting of the Future: Types of Predictions and Their Reliability

Human beings employ a myriad of prophetic methods and undertake millions of attempts to foresee future events in advance. The services of professional seers, oracles, and prophets have always been in high demand. The impact of such prophecies on an individual is largely determined by the nature of the inquiry that prompts one to consult a seer. The combination of anxiety and hope gives rise to tense indecision, oppressive uncertainty, particularly when one is faced with the necessity of making a responsible choice, forced to take risks, or receives distressing news that disappoints or frightens them. Thus, when a person receives a form of support in the shape of a prophecy that describes an inevitable future, they alleviate the burden of their own choice and the responsibility that comes with it. They are left to be mere passive observers of events that will unfold regardless of their will, or they gain confidence in the success of their endeavors. When the prophecy is positive and aligns with one’s hopes, it brings relief and fosters boldness in action. Consequently, when expectations are met, the individual attributes their success not only to themselves but also to the seer, convinced of their ability to perceive the future. Conversely, a negative forecast either deters one from a risky action they were hesitant to undertake (thereby relieving anxious tension by reassuring them they did well to refrain) or motivates them towards a defensive action, as the previously vague anxiety now materializes as a more defined threat, prompting decisive behavior. (However, seers often provide not only predictions but also advice or “remedies,” which, understandably, are difficult to reject for those frightened by their prospects and who trust the seer). By relying on the seer, an individual partially alienates themselves from their own decision, as the seer assumes part of the responsibility for what is to come. Considering that the services of seers have been sought by influential individuals, many soothsayers have met dire consequences when the calculations made by a powerful figure based on their prophecies did not come to pass. Therefore, oracles strive to formulate their predictions in irrefutable terms and to avoid potential claims against them should their forecasts fail. The principle here is straightforward: either a vague, “profound” statement is used that allows for multiple interpretations while simultaneously enabling the projection of one’s expectations and anxieties, or the structure of the prophecy is unassailable in any case. An example of this might be an astrological forecast stating that an event will occur when a certain “aspect” is “activated”; otherwise, it will not happen. Furthermore, this “activation” is often very ambiguous and appeals to something that cannot be empirically verified. Thus, any combination of planets carries dual significance, ensuring that something will materialize in any case. Such profound ambiguity is often cloaked in poetic metaphors, ambiguous terms, or general phrases that can always be linked to a specific event. For instance, if I say that in the coming months events will transpire in your life that warrant a reevaluation of your relationships with loved ones, in most instances, my prediction will hold true simply because an event warranting reevaluation could be anything. Those troubled by their relationships will certainly find something worth reconsidering within a few months. Another example of a prediction that will come to fruition under any circumstances pertains to weather forecasts: “Tomorrow in Kyiv, there may be brief showers in some areas”—this literally means that tomorrow in Kyiv, it may rain or snow in certain locations (or it may not rain at all, or it may rain but not briefly). Rain will either occur or not; in either case, the forecast does not contradict this. Nevertheless, people interpret this prediction as an answer to their inquiry: whether or not to take an umbrella. Therefore, this forecast is equivalent to the advice to “take it just in case,” which will not contradict reality in any event. (Meteorologists, of course, interpret their forecasts as probabilities of certain events. Strictly speaking, the aforementioned weather prediction should be articulated as follows: based on observations, under the existing conditions, brief showers occurred in 7 out of 10 instances throughout the day, the precise location of which cannot be established, but within a radius of 100 km, they are highly likely.)

In the 20th century, numerous attempts were made to place future forecasting on a “scientific” basis. This was a time of the flourishing of futurism—the science of the future (which peaked in the 1960s). Yet, even before that, visions of the future held by communities shaped behavior. One need only recall Christianity, which initially emerged as a firm belief in the imminent end of the world, a prophecy of liberation from ancestral curses, and the promise of “the Kingdom of Heaven” for the righteous, solidified by the sacrifice of God’s son on the cross. In modern times, such a faith, alongside sincere hope and motivating guidance, became the conviction that the power of human reason renders the progress of humanity inevitable—that step by step, humanity would enhance its living conditions, refine its societal order, and increase its technological prowess, ultimately improving the “quality” of individuals. This culminating moment in human history is now imagined as a transition into post-humanity, the evolutionary development of humanity into a new species, which (the transition) will occur with the active participation of humanity itself. The teachings of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels on “scientific communism,” V. I. Vernadsky on the noosphere, and Pierre Teilhard de Chardin on the “omega point” all conveyed the irreversibility of humanity’s progressive evolution, in which a rational organization of life reaches its logical conclusion. However, starting from the 1960s, troubling notes began to emerge in this foresight of the future, where scientific and technological progress was perceived as a threat to humanity’s survival and the collapse of civilization. Such pessimistic sentiments regarding future predictions stemmed primarily from the acknowledgment of the limitations of existing resources and technologies and the inability to resolve arising conflicts on this basis while ensuring maximum comfort for all people. Moreover, technological prowess has its downside: an increasing dependency on depersonalized factors generated by human ingenuity and the inability of individuals and social institutions to timely and adequately formulate decisions that ensure effective control over processes. As a result, futurist images predominantly took on a problem-focused character, leading to a very broad discussion and encompassing topics under the name of “global issues” or, alternatively, “globalization.” This trend of cautionary predictions is typically referred to today as alarmism (derived from the English word “alarm,” meaning a signal of danger).

Nonetheless, futurism still possessed elements of science fiction, with authors striving to tether their fantasies as firmly as possible to the objective constraints of the real world and the trends revealed in past experiences. This inevitable subjectivity, dependent on the preferences of the futurist authors, which inevitably marked their forecasts, resulted in critical backlash. Partially, this reaction included studies wherein forecasting itself as a human activity became a subject of investigation; among these were works where authors attempted to devise methods for reliable forecasting (this field generally became known as prognostics, although the term futurism persists in this context today).

Here we must pose a fundamental question: is it possible to foresee the future? Evidently, a necessary condition for such foresight is the definiteness of a future event before it occurs, alongside the ability to receive notification of this event in advance. This inquiry, in turn, gives rise to the problem of understanding the relationship between time, information, and causality, which is a profound ontological issue. However, let us first reflect: if the future is predetermined, then past events are somehow rigidly interconnected, such that each subsequent event is inevitable, and every moment in time can be fully described as the totality of events corresponding to it. In other words, events are a function of time. But if this is the case, then receiving information about the next moment in time beforehand (that is, at some prior moment) is also an event, which is similarly determined. Thus, in this chain, there is no choice, no freedom, and everything unfolds with necessity; knowledge about something also inevitably comes to pass in due time. Here, it is clear that we cannot discern between false and true predictions, for both arise spontaneously, leaving us without any choice. This renders the very process of cognition senseless in a practical sense (as we cannot change anything), and the process of verifying any information becomes entirely uncertain. Paradoxically, the absolute definiteness of events makes the truth value of any piece of information indeterminate.

If we assume that the future is entirely uncertain, that events unfold purely by chance, and that every regular sequence of such events is itself a form of randomness (which, although rare, may still occur), then there are no "laws" of the universe that possess a necessary character. In this case, any prediction is also impossible with certainty, since the world is chaos. In this sense, every prediction is a random guess about a random sequence, thus rendering it unreliable.

Thus, we must thoughtfully frame the task of forecasting as an endeavor to uncover regular, reproducible connections that define not the entirety of events but only certain fragments of reality. Such a model of the world aligns with an understanding of it as a game governed by rules, where gaming situations contain moments of uncertainty and choices regarding the next move. Therefore, the future can alternatively be presented as a multitude of alternatives, which, at certain moments, narrows down to a single option, making the subsequent course of events necessarily determined, confined to a specific trajectory. In this respect, neither the past is without alternatives (it could have been otherwise), nor is the future. The connection between the past and the future is reduced to the emergence and elimination of multiple developmental options. Moreover, at different levels, the rules of the game and the composition of "participants" (the objects of the world) arise and disappear (are modified). In such a model, were all events predictable and controllable, everything would boil down to the first scenario of complete definiteness (assuming that the one possessing this information and exercising control is defined in their objectives).

However, if this is not the case (and this is the only coherent option that endows knowledge with meaning), then the rationality of the players is also limited. In other words, it is impossible for anyone to possess complete knowledge about the future while simultaneously influencing the course of global events, directing them in a particular direction. Thus, the future here is a repeated creation with an indeterminate concluding moment, a game for the sake of the game itself. Consequently, predicting the next event is only feasible if it fits into some previously discerned regularity or arises as the only outcome from the unfolding of events (similar to zugzwang in chess). Yet, it is by no means necessary to reduce predictions to the discovery of a singularly necessary outcome: more often, the task involves eliminating excessive alternatives, simplifying orientation within trends, or, conversely, seeking hidden, non-obvious "moves"—the variants of event development and objective possibilities.

In this way, the term "forecast" (prediction) can be interpreted in three ways, thereby defining three types of predictions: (1) the prediction of an event that is set to occur at a specific time (for instance, the announcement of one's upcoming wedding date); (2) the assessment of the realism of a plan to achieve a certain state within a specified timeframe (to what extent is it objectively feasible if I have planned my wedding for a particular date?); (3) the identification of objective preconditions for accomplishing something in the future, at the present moment (is there currently a basis to speak of my potential future marriage, for instance, my readiness for this and the availability of a suitable candidate who likewise shows interest in me?). Long-range predictions of the first type are generally regarded as lying beyond the scope of scientific method. However, it is essential to remember that knowledge as such boils down to uncovering regularities that encompass temporal dimensions. Relying on validated models of the world, astronomers can predict where and when one might observe, say, Jupiter, while chemists not only indicate the products of a reaction but also the time required for it to occur under specific conditions. Nevertheless, all such predictions ultimately involve the exclusion of degrees of freedom under the stated conditions. They hold true provided that "if everything occurs as in the model experiment." Yet in reality, it is often challenging to ascertain the complete set of factors that determine the course of processes and establish the dynamics of changes. Regarding the movement of celestial bodies, it is accepted that the natural reality over the observation period constitutes a natural "model experiment," and currently, there are no sufficient grounds to believe that "the laws of nature" in this regard will somehow change (although this cannot be logically excluded). However, concerning social processes or ecosystems, the nature of the interaction between objects is such that even within a fairly narrow timeframe (on a geological scale, of course), it generates numerous indeterminate states, commonly referred to as crises (turning points), wherein there is objectively no necessary outcome; it is fundamentally unpredictable precisely as a series of events that inevitably follow one another.

The other two types of predictions are termed normative and exploratory, respectively.

A normative forecast, therefore, serves as a means to curtail fanciful dreaming and baseless projections, which are particularly characteristic of future planning. In bureaucratic institutions, such planning sometimes, if not often, devolves into a foolish, obsessive ritual that simulates activity. Yet more frequently, planning reflects a lack of adequate assessment of one's capabilities and the timeframes required to realize one's intentions. (If we retrospectively review our own plans, as well as the plans declared, for instance, by the state, it becomes clear how unrealistic planning can often be.) Does this imply that planning is senseless? No. Nevertheless, the soundness of plans and the realism of their execution significantly depend on accumulated experience and a clear evaluation of actual capabilities, among which the understanding of motivational factors takes precedence in social processes and personal life. The most significant flaw here is that plans are predominantly declared concerning "apparent" subjects—individuals or organizations that seem to exist as they are conceived, while in reality, they are different. Thus, plans often serve the function of justifying the existence of some institution or merely declaring wishes and intentions. This is akin to fanciful dreaming and projection, promises and deception.

The task of the exploratory forecast is to uncover hidden possibilities, trends, and to model situations.

Typically, forecasts have a composite nature, intertwining these aspects into a cohesive whole. This arises from our simultaneous interest in what may be and certain specific plans for the future.

It is evident that forecasts always possess a hypothetical character, as the only means of their credible validation is the anticipated event that actually occurs. In other words, we can only confidently affirm our expectations when they have ceased to be expectations and have become a known past. Hence, we have only a few ways to enhance the plausibility of our predictive expectations and several caveats regarding trust in the sources that dare to prophesy.

Clearly, a direct extrapolation of a certain discerned trend into the future does not provide sufficient grounds for a forecast based on this. If a tree grew 20 cm in the first year, 30 cm in the second, and 70 cm in the third, it seems pointless to assert that it will always grow at an increasing annual rate. However, we can only understand this dynamic through numerous life cycles in the past. Reasoning that key conditions remain constant, we expect that the characteristic types of sequential changes in certain kinds of objects will similarly confirm as we proceed further. Yet can we not somehow transition to another time scale, predicting certain trends and interdependencies in advance? Yes, we can, and this method involves constructing a model. Furthermore, the model can be built on various idealized assumptions, abstracting from certain actual aspects. In other words, through models, we can layer reality into different event scenarios, each with known initial conditions. But how can we verify the model (demonstrate its correspondence to reality) in advance?

The logic of such verification is as follows. Imagine that we are unaware of the past but know certain predetermined initial conditions. If our model is correct, then events must be inferred from it as if they are still unknown. If this historical analogy holds, we can use this discovered regularity and the logic of interactions to replay now genuinely unknown future events yet to come.

Simultaneously, this future will always be represented as a multitude of possible (albeit variably probable) scenarios for the unfolding of events.