At school (all boys, Roman Catholic), science fiction was considered too simplistic, or rather asinine, and we were scolded if caught with a science fiction book. Believe me, those scoldings could be brutal. Once, during free reading time, I dared to smuggle in a well-worn copy of The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells. It was hidden under the cover of Great Expectations, a sly trick that I thought made me an uncatchable genius. That illusion lasted maybe 12 minutes before Father Duffy loomed over me, yanked the book from my hands, and pulled at my sideburns while proclaiming with apocalyptic zeal, “Science fiction is the devil’s detour!” The confiscated book was tossed into a locked cabinet labeled “Banned,” an ominous collection that already included my copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and seemed to encompass everything entertaining. My punishment? Lunch time detention, 45 minutes standing in the main hall, staring at the clock for five consecutive days.
The irony is twofold, much like Amazons algorithms that suggest content to shape our tastes, my teachers’ recommendations aimed to steer my choices and shape my mind. Yet today, The War of the Worlds is considered a kind of classic, as is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. But back then, the school’s literary snobbery made us feel like reading anything fun or imaginative was practically a sin. We were told to stick to Shakespeare, Dickens (still among my favorites), Chaucer, and Tolstoy. Forty-five years later, I can’t read Great Expectations without imagining Martians stomping through Victorian England.
Imagination
Every time I sit down to read a science fiction book it seems that I engage in a new life process, a reflection of humanity’s hopes and fears, its aspirations and failings. At its core, science fiction bridges boundless imagination with the constraints of reality. In a world increasingly defined by societies that value conformity, where status is mistaken for wisdom and platitudes pass for profundity, Science fiction remains one of the few bastions of creative freedom. I have come to realize that it is the genre’s unique ability to question orthodoxy and push against the narrowing of intellectual horizons that imbues it with such enduring vitality.
Progress
Reflecting on humanity’s progress over the past two centuries, one cannot help but marvel at how deeply science fiction is interwoven with societal evolution. Science fiction reflects, critiques, and even anticipates human conditions. It is not merely a genre but a philosophical endeavor, a conversation with the future, a critique of the present, and an art form that bridges the empirical rigor of science with the emotive pull of storytelling.
In my view, science fiction is not in the business of predicting the future but of broadening the scope of what is imaginable. There is not simply a future, a time to come that’s preordained and inexorable. Our future is built, bit by bit, minute by minute, by the actions of human beings. This is a crucial distinction. Where deterministic models evoke a sense of inevitability, science fiction empowers people to build. It tells us that our choices matter, that the future is not something to be endured but something to be shaped. In this way, science fiction shares the aspirations of authors like Isaac Asimov and Stanisław Lem, who used their works to probe the boundaries of human potential and ethical responsibility.
Human Ingenuity
Asimov’s Foundation series, for instance, explores the cyclical nature of history and the role of culture and rationality in shaping civilization, blending sociology with speculative ingenuity. Similarly, Lem’s Solaris wrestles with the limits of human understanding, posing unanswerable questions about consciousness and the alien. These authors remind us that science fiction is not merely escapism but an intellectual crucible, a way to wrestle with the profound mysteries of existence. Maybe that is what Father Duffy disdained so much.
Equally transformative, albeit in a different register, is Douglas Adams’ irreverent approach to the genre. His The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, published in 1979, transforms science fiction into a playground of absurdity and wit, where the existential dread of a vast and indifferent universe is met with humor and resilience. Adams invites us to laugh in the face of the unknowable, a reminder that science fiction need not always be solemn to be profound. “Don’t panic,” the book’s iconic mantra, encapsulates a philosophy of measured optimism in the face of cosmic chaos, a lesson as vital as any grand narrative of technological progress or ecological caution.
Predictions
Douglas Adams provides a poignant entry point with his “Don’t panic”, a counterpoint to the anxieties caused by The Limits to Growth. Published in 1972 by the Club of Rome, this report used computer modeling to predict potential societal collapse within the 21st century due to factors like overpopulation, resource depletion, and pollution. The study's stark warnings, depicted through graphs showing the rise and fall of key resources and societal indicators, sparked widespread debate about humanity's future. Such deterministic forecasts, while sobering, serve as a foil to the expansive, imaginative framework of science fiction. Unlike the linear extrapolations of such models, science fiction’s offers the ability to explore many possible futures that lie open to us. In this sense, the genre functions as humanity’s scout, venturing into uncharted territories to warn of dangers and illuminate possibilities.
For more than 100 years science fiction authors have been writing about problems such as pollution, nuclear warfare, overpopulation, genetic manipulation, runaway technology, thought control, and other threats that burst on the general public, through the Club of Rome study, as shocking surprises. As one example, in 1965, Lem described ChatGPT precisely, as the ‘conversation laureate’, even down to predicting authors strikes, requiring nuclear energy due to high power demand and its overall transformative capabilities.
On the Margin
Science fiction, much like the scientific enterprise, often exists on the fringes, struggling for legitimacy in a marketplace dominated by more conventional narratives. Yet, it is precisely this marginality that grants the genre its subversive power.
Frank Herbert’s work shows us that science fiction is a tool of critique and resistance. His vision is ecological, philosophical, and deeply humanistic. He contends that science fiction’s true power lies in its ability to interrogate humanity’s relationship with its environment and its own technological creations. Science fiction isn't primarily concerned with predicting specific inventions like the automobile or the spaceship. Its power lies in exploring the broader forces that drive innovation and the societal transformations that emerge. While accurate predictions can occur, they are often a byproduct of this deeper exploration of possibilities. Herbert’s books reveal his concerns about ecological collapse and unchecked technological power are as urgent now as when they were first penned, highlighted in debates over climate change and AI ethics. Herbert’s Dune epitomizes this ethos, portraying a world where ecological balance and political intrigue collide, forcing its characters, and its readers, to confront the consequences of human conceit.
A recurring theme across the anthology is the interplay between science fiction and mythology. Joseph Campbell’s concept of the hero’s journey reverberates in the genre, framing science fiction as a modern mythology. There are also many parallels between the genre and ancient storytelling traditions, its enduring appeal lies in its ability to universalize the human experience. The stories that stand out in the minds of readers are those that are made incandescent by characters, people, who are unforgettable. Science fiction reflects our deepest anxieties and highest aspirations while guiding us through the contours of societal change.
Change
MIT ran this visionary course, Science Fiction-Inspired Envisioneering & Futurecrafting, highlighting, the inspiration of the genres authors to capture the imagination and change.
Indeed, change is perhaps the most pervasive motif in science fiction. It is the literature of change, a genre uniquely suited to navigate a world in flux. Whether grappling with the moral dilemmas of genetic engineering, the existential risks of nuclear warfare, or the philosophical implications of artificial intelligence, science fiction compels us to confront the uncertainties of tomorrow. It is a genre that thrives on ambiguity, one that revels in asking questions rather than providing answers. To paraphrase Herbert, The measure of a civilization is not how much it knows but how it handles what it does not know.
Science fiction is a champion of intellectual and emotional insight, to see change not as a threat but as an opportunity. Offering up both a promise and a warning. Science fiction compels us to confront the unknown with courage and imagination, lest we fail even to try.
Ultimately, Science fiction is more than an exploration of a literary genre it is an intellectual and cultural renewal. Science fiction, at its best, is not about predicting the future but about shaping it. It is not just about other worlds but about making sense of our own. In the works of authors like Asimov, Lem, Herbert, and Adams, we find not only stories but philosophical inquiries that demand we question, reflect, and aspire. And in a world increasingly defined by division and doom, it is a genre that dares to dream, not just of what is, but of what could be.
What science fiction novels are your favorites?
Stay curious
Colin
Image created with Google Gemini Imagen AI
Suggested reading
MIT Course - Science Fiction-Inspired Envisioneering & Futurecrafting
Asimov, Isaac. “Nightfall.” Original work published 1941.
Godwin, Tom. “The Cold Equations.” Original work published 1954.
Tiptree, James, Jr. “And I Awoke and Found Me Here on the Cold Hillside.” Original work published 1973.
Gibson, William. “Burning Chrome.” Original work published 1981.
Gunn, Eileen. “How America’s Leading Science Fiction Authors are Shaping Your Future.” Smithsonian, May 2014.
Russ, Joanna. “When It Changed.” Original work published 1972.
Kress, Nancy. “Out of All Them Bright Stars.” Original work published 1985.
Clarke, Arthur C. “The Nine Billion Names of God.” Original work published 1954.
Egan, Greg. “Closer.” Original work published 1992.
“Science fiction isn't primarily concerned with predicting specific inventions like the automobile or the spaceship. Its power lies in exploring the broader forces that drive innovation and the societal transformations that emerge.”
When I was a scientist I was struggling to come up with ideas for research and one of my mentors specifically told me to read science fiction. It opened my mind to the possibilities and I was since hooked.
I’ve mostly read sci-fi books published in the last few decades, such as The Martian, Project Hail Mary, and Daemon. I’ve also been a fan of sci-fi movies and series since childhood, including classics like Star Trek, Star Wars, and Contact.
However, I’ve struggled to connect with iconic works like Dune, The Foundation, or the Three-Body Problem series. While I plan to revisit them in the future, for some reason, they didn’t resonate with me as much as the more contemporary sci-fi I’ve encountered.
One of the things I find fascinating about science fiction is its power to inspire real-world innovation. The ideas and technologies we encounter in sci-fi can motivate people to pursue and build them, often advancing human civilization. At the same time, sci-fi also serves as a cautionary tale—it shows us how the wrong ideas or unchecked ambitions can lead to disasters or even annihilation. This duality is one of the genre’s greatest strengths.
That said, blindly pursuing growth and technological advancement without public awareness, involvement, and ethical guardrails is dangerous. It delays the adoption of these innovations and can lead to unintended consequences that may outweigh their potential benefits. The current state of technological development is particularly concerning because a tiny group often decides what to build and prioritize for individuals or companies. Broader societal involvement could lead to better, more thoughtful outcomes, even if it might slow progress in the short term.
We still lack robust governance frameworks, ethical guidelines, and collaborative systems to manage the impact of major emerging technologies like AI, synthetic biology, climate technologies, quantum computing, and space exploration. Without these structures, we’re at the mercy of the motivations and incentives of a select few. While these technologies may benefit humanity in many cases, the risk of unintended consequences remains high, especially over the long term.
This raises an important question: What level of risk are we, as a society, willing to accept in pursuing innovation? Building future technologies without foresight and safeguards might not cause immediate harm, but the long-term consequences could be catastrophic if we’re not careful.
I’m curious about your perspective, particularly in light of your reading. Do you see a noticeable difference between older and newer sci-fi books? Has the focus of the genre shifted over the past few decades?