Could Should Might Don't

How We Think About the Future

By Nick Foster

Category: Psychology | Reading Duration: 20 min | Rating: 4.0/5 (23 ratings)

About the Book

Could Should Might Don’t (2025) examines the mental frameworks people use when contemplating what lies ahead, identifying four distinct approaches that shape our relationship with tomorrow. Rather than making predictions, it analyzes how humans have historically engaged with future-oriented thinking, revealing the strengths and limitations of each mindset.

Who Should Read This?

Policy makers and civil society members grappling with complex societal challenges
Business leaders and entrepreneurs making strategic decisions under uncertainty
Anyone overwhelmed by conflicting predictions about technology and the future

What’s in it for me? Learn how to think smarter about tomorrow.

You’re sitting in a corporate boardroom where executives are debating whether to invest millions in the next big thing. One camp excitedly sketches flying delivery drones on whiteboards. Another insists artificial intelligence will solve logistics within five years. Meanwhile, someone mutters about privacy violations and job displacement.

Sound familiar? Our thinking about the future is a sometimes chaotic mix of wishful thinking, false certainty, and catastrophizing. And despite the time we spend planning for the future, we don’t seem to get any better at it. But you don’t need to join this confused chorus. In this Blink, we’ll look at four distinct ways people think about the future. Learning to spot these four approaches will give you the ability to separate genuine insight from expensive guesswork.

Chapter 1: The day after tomorrow

We live in an age obsessed with the future. Major technology companies collectively spent $177 billion on research and development in 2022 – equivalent to Kuwait’s entire GDP. Governments, media organizations, and cultural institutions pump out endless streams of predictions, visions, and scenarios about what lies ahead. And popular media generates millions of hours of content across films, television, and writing, feeding future concepts into public consciousness.

Yet despite this massive investment in imagining what’s ahead, something has gone wrong. Much contemporary futurism appears misinformed, and willfully shallow – often relying on clichéd references to flying cars and hoverboards, rather than rigorous analysis. Meanwhile, Generation Z experiences unprecedented levels of anxiety about the future, spending hours each day consuming predominantly negative content. Research shows that 34 percent of Gen Zs worry about the future generally, while 45 percent express concern about their future employment prospects. This anxiety represents a dramatic shift from earlier generations, who viewed the future with optimism. The contradiction is stark: we have more resources dedicated to future-thinking than ever before, yet we feel increasingly pessimistic about what lies ahead.

The problem isn’t that we lack future-thinking – it’s that most of it is terrible. Corporate futures work often serves vanity purposes rather than genuine strategy. Political leaders avoid long-term planning in favor of quick wins. Daily pressures dominate business thinking, relegating future-oriented work to isolated “innovation labs” that are disconnected from real challenges. Even professional futurists struggle with an identity crisis, uncertain whether their work provides genuine value compared to concrete professions like medicine or engineering. But humanity has always grappled with the uncertainty of what’s ahead.

From Neolithic communities planning for winter harvests to medieval societies interpreting plagues, we’ve consistently sought to understand and influence what lies beyond the present moment. The future will arrive regardless of whether we engage thoughtfully with it or not. But can we radically improve how we think about tomorrow? For the rest of this Blink, we’ll look at four distinct mindsets that characterize future-oriented thinking, each with particular strengths, blind spots, and inevitable shortcomings that shape our view of the future.

These mindsets are Could, Shouldn’t, Might, and Don’t. Let’s look at each in turn. In 1958, Arthur Radebaugh’s comic strip promised American families that by 1980 they’d commute to work in personal helicopters and receive mail via jetpack. Nearly half a century past that deadline, we’re still waiting – yet somehow still making the same kinds of predictions.

Chapter 2: Could Futurism: Believe the hype

Could Futurism represents the most visible and dominant form of future-thinking in Western society today. Could Futurism is a dopamine hit of possibility. This is the realm of breathless speculation about what technology might deliver, the territory of TED talks and tech journalism, of podcast hosts who speak excitedly about the coming revolution. Yet for all its claims to limitless imagination, Could Futurism reveals itself as somewhat limited, both conceptually and visually.

It often sticks to the same imagery and concepts, with standard visual elements including cybernetic humans, humanoid robots, flying cars, and transparent interfaces – motifs that have remained largely unchanged since the early twentieth century. This aesthetic conservatism points to something deeper: Could Futurism operates through an essentially “technocratic” worldview. It’s about solving problems through science and technology. It’s the intellectual descendant of those grand public exhibitions that once promised to reveal tomorrow’s secrets to paying crowds. Take the 1939 New York World’s Fair, where General Motors constructed its Futurama pavilion – a cathedral to automotive progress. Each day, thousands of visitors glided on moving benches above an enormous diorama of future America, every highway and intersection lovingly detailed.

This was spectacle as prophecy, corporate vision disguised as inevitable destiny. Today, science fiction drives Hollywood. Many of the highest-grossing films belong to the genre. The publishing industry earns over half a billion dollars annually from speculative fiction, while streaming platforms have democratized access to serialized science fiction content. This represents more than entertainment; it constitutes a massive influence on our collective imagination, subtly but persistently shaping public understanding of what technology can and should accomplish. Could Futurism does have its virtues.

It makes complex technologies visible, helping them become comprehensible to non-specialist audiences. It maintains cultural optimism about human ingenuity and provides a shared vocabulary for discussing technological possibilities. Most practically, it can mobilize public support for ambitious, long-term projects that require sustained investment and coordination. But its intellectual limitations prove equally significant. Could Futurism often makes bold proclamations that don’t hold up. And it systematically avoids discussing the messy intermediate stages of technological development, preferring to present fully mature, seamlessly adopted innovations rather than the gradual, uneven chaotic processes by which the future comes to us.

We might reasonably ask whether public exhibitions promising to unveil tomorrow represent genuine intellectual engagement or merely cater to our appetite for familiar fantasies. Perhaps it’s time to demand more from our crystal balls. What’s the difference between could and should?

Chapter 3: Should Futurism: The certainty trap

While Could Futurists speculate about technological possibilities, Should Futurists operate with absolute certainty about how tomorrow ought to unfold. Take Elon Musk’s declarations about Mars colonization, or tech executives proclaiming that artificial intelligence will solve poverty – these aren’t tentative predictions but emphatic blueprints for humanity’s future. Should Futurists focus intensely on implementation, believing they possess the power to craft and control what lies ahead. Each person has a mental picture of their preferred tomorrow and this functions like a compass, pulling their current choices in specific directions.

A climate activist might restructure their entire lifestyle around achieving carbon neutrality by 2030, while a cryptocurrency enthusiast will base investment decisions on visions of decentralized financial systems replacing traditional banking. Should Futurism operates by establishing clear target outcomes and then determining what present actions will lead toward those goals. But here lies the fundamental problem: the notion of “better” carries no universal definition. Our cultural influences and personal experiences determine what we consider better. Different groups define progress in contradictory ways. For example, some prioritize environmental protection while others focus on economic expansion.

Historical examples demonstrate how purported progress has justified both humanitarian efforts and horrific acts like genocide. Should Futurism finds its foundation in ideology. Antoine Destutt de Tracy created the term “ideology” in 1796 during the French Revolution, and every ideology contains dual elements: a framework for interpreting reality and a blueprint for action. Ideologies function as future-shaping instruments designed to achieve preferred outcomes by transforming present circumstances. The appeal of Should Futurism lies in its promise of certainty. Confident assertions about the future provide psychological comfort by reducing the overwhelming nature of unknown possibilities.

The human mind seeks patterns and connections, making us susceptible to accepting predictions that may lack solid foundations. Throughout history, humans have used diverse methods to glimpse the future, from examining animal entrails to interpreting star patterns. Modern society maintains similar practices through astrology, which generated a $12. 8 billion global market in 2021.

Failed predictions rarely diminish our appetite for new ones, as demonstrated by continued belief in religious prophecies and trend forecasting. Authority figures can maintain credibility even after mispredicting the future again and again. The seductive power of Should Futurism persists because our craving for certainty about tomorrow consistently outpaces our ability to predict it. We long for the comfort of knowing not just what might happen, but what should happen – even if that certainty is an illusion.

Chapter 4: Might Futurism: The science of uncertainty

If Should Futurists operate with dangerous certainty, Might Futurists embrace the opposite extreme: they systematically map uncertainty itself. Rather than betting on single outcomes, they develop sophisticated methods to explore multiple possible futures simultaneously. It’s perhaps the most intellectually rigorous approach to future-thinking, born from military and corporate strategists who learned that survival depends on preparing for various scenarios, rather than predicting which one will occur. The mathematical foundations developed via game theory.

In 1944, John von Neumann’s work with Oskar Morgenstern established that complex strategic situations could be analyzed systematically by mapping all possible moves and countermoves. This wasn’t about predicting winners but rather understanding the full landscape of possibility. The Cold War provided the ultimate testing ground. At think tank RAND Corporation, Herman Kahn and his colleagues faced a weighty challenge: nuclear warfare planning. Rather than guessing Soviet intentions, they created extensive branching decision frameworks that mapped countless potential narratives, responses, and escalations. Kahn’s approach involved expanding probability calculations beyond conventional scenarios, even considering previously unthinkable possibilities like acceptable casualty rates in nuclear exchanges.

This cold rationalism inspired the film Dr. Strangelove, but it also established scenario planning as a serious intellectual discipline. The breakthrough moment came in 1971 when Shell’s Pierre Wack abandoned traditional forecasting for systematic uncertainty mapping. Instead of predicting oil prices, Shell developed four distinct scenarios exploring different industry futures: standard growth, economic stagnation, trade nationalism, and energy substitution. Each scenario revealed how various players would behave under different conditions, illuminating threats and opportunities that single-point forecasts had missed. Advocates claim it helped Shell navigate multiple crises from the energy shock to the Soviet collapse.

Modern scenario planning has evolved into an entire industry of strategic foresight professionals wielding sophisticated methodological tools, like the futures cone model and backcasting. Think tanks now employ armies of analysts to interrogate everything from climate change to technological disruption. The scientific rigor is impressive, but it has its limitations. Information quality is a core problem. Even with sophisticated models, high-quality intelligence is extremely difficult to acquire. Military and corporate powers now deploy misinformation specifically to derail predictions.

This was demonstrated as early as the 1957 “missile gap,” when the CIA estimated that hundreds of Soviet missiles existed when in reality there were only four. Human cognitive biases significantly influence which factors are considered important, and organizations typically think about their futures only in company-specific terms, missing external disruptions entirely. Perhaps most tellingly, the biggest business disruptions of recent decades – from Nokia’s smartphone dismissal to Kodak’s digital photography denial – occurred outside companies’ carefully constructed scenario cones. Major changes frequently originate from unexpected directions.

Might Futurism offers valuable intellectual discipline by forcing the systematic consideration of alternatives and uncertainties. But its promise of rigorous analysis often conceals uncomfortable truths about the reliability of our data and the constraints of our imagination. The real value lies not in generating accurate predictions, but in the thinking process itself – creating conditions for expansive conversations about unfavorable possibilities, rather than providing definitive answers. Picture the person at every planning meeting who raises their hand to ask about the worst-case scenario – the one who makes everyone else shift anxiously in their chairs.

Chapter 5: Don’t Futurism: Professional pessimists

In our collective conversation about tomorrow, Don’t Futurism occupies the uncomfortable but necessary role of professional pessimist. While Could Futurists dream of flying cars and Should Futurists proclaim inevitable progress, Don’t Futurists focus on what could go catastrophically wrong. They serve as institutional contrarians, deliberately focusing on troubling possibilities that some more optimistic communities might ignore. Performing this role well requires exceptional skill.

Badly timed criticism can destroy morale and momentum, while warnings that come too late are useless. The 1997 Korean Air Flight 801 disaster illustrates this challenge: junior crew members noticed their captain’s navigational error but hierarchies prevented them from speaking up until moments before the aircraft struck terrain, killing 228 people. Humans often instinctively resist contemplating disasters, despair, and tragic outcomes. Corporate strategy sessions demonstrate this tendency – leadership teams eagerly discuss profitable scenarios while hastily dismissing problematic possibilities with labels like “unlikely” or “manageable. ” Yet intelligent organizations regularly examine how current success might deteriorate, preparing for potential downturns through systematic worst-case analysis. Fear has shaped human future-thinking since civilization’s earliest stories.

Religious traditions across cultures employ terrifying depictions of the afterlife to regulate our behavior: Egyptian burning lakes, Sumerian dust-eating souls, Greek Tartarus, and various versions of Hell. Even childhood development relies on cautionary tales – warning stories help children imagine dangerous outcomes they can’t yet comprehend through experience. Literature and cinema have long served as vehicles for Don’t Futurism. Mary Shelley’s 1815 Frankenstein was hardly a celebration of scientific progress. Classic science fiction from Orwell to Huxley focused on nightmare scenarios rather than utopian possibilities. Television continues this tradition, with shows like Black Mirror providing satirical counterpoints to Silicon Valley optimism.

The most sophisticated Don’t Futurism employs rigorous data analysis. Economist Thomas Malthus calculated that population growth would outpace food production. Economist William Stanley Jevons forecast a global energy crisis from coal depletion. Both predictions proved to be inaccurate, even as they sparked policy discussions and technological innovations. But Don’t Futurism walks a tightrope. Visions of doom provoke opposition, escalating quickly from reasonable caution to knee-jerk reaction.

And extreme portrayals grab public attention but can also undermine credibility – when everything sounds apocalyptic, nothing does. The challenge lies in calibration. We need Don’t Futurists to spot the dangers that optimists miss, while remembering that not every cloud turns into a hurricane. The most valuable critics focus on specific, actionable problems. They ask uncomfortable questions about unintended consequences and highlight warning signs. But they do so with precision rather than panic, understanding that their role is to help us navigate, not convince us to abandon our journey entirely.

Final summary

The main takeaway of this Blink to Could Should Might Don’t by Nick Foster is that we can do a better job of thinking about the future – and we should. Most futurism falls into four categories: the techno-fantasies of Could, the ideological fantasies of Should, the rigorous forecasting of Might, and the catastrophic warnings of Don’t. Each has value and shortcomings. The real issue isn’t a lack of future-thinking – it’s quality.

Instead of leaning too heavily on any one mode of futurism, we should aspire to harness the strengths of each approach while recognizing its limitations. The future will arrive whether we think about it well or poorly. Let’s commit to approaching it with the awareness and consideration it deserves. Okay, that’s it for this Blink.

We hope you enjoyed it. If you can, please take the time to leave us a rating – we always appreciate your feedback. See you in the next Blink.

About the Author

Nick Foster is a designer, writer, and futurist for companies like Apple, Google, and Sony. He received the Royal Designer for Industry title in 2021, Britain’s most prestigious design recognition, and holds a fellowship with the Royal Society of Arts. Foster regularly shares his expertise through essays and speaking engagements.