"Politicians should read science fiction, not westerns and detective stories." - Arthur C. Clarke

Renowned science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke once famously quipped, "Politicians should read science fiction, not westerns and detective stories." Clarke’s observation was both a sharp critique of political shortsightedness and a testament to the genre’s unique capacity to inspire foresight in leadership. As the world grapples with climate change, AI ethics, and global technological governance, his words resonate stronger than ever—suggesting that policymakers who ignore sci-fi do so at their own peril.

The Prophetic Power of Science Fiction

Clarke himself was no stranger to predictive speculation. His iconic novel 2001: A Space Odyssey conceptualized tablet-like devices decades before the iPad—as well as space tourism, voice assistants, and orbital stations. Similarly, Jules Verne envisioned submarines and lunar travel in the 19th century, while Hugo Gernsback’s Ralph 124C 41+ (1911) foreshadowed radar, television, and video calls. Unlike westerns and detective stories, which often reinforce nostalgia or static moral codes, science fiction thrives on extrapolation—a skill politicians desperately need to confront future crises.

Consider climate fiction (cli-fi): Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140 depicts a semi-submerged Manhattan grappling with sea-level rise, forcing readers to envision mitigation strategies. Alternatively, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale—often dismissed as "feminist dystopia"—is in fact a chilling logistical analysis of authoritarianism, resource scarcity, and surveillance, all too relevant in today’s political landscape. These texts don’t merely entertain; they simulate, warn, and brainstorm—exercises politicians would benefit from.

Why Politicians Resist Sci-Fi

Yet the same policymakers who leverage futurist think tanks often shun science fiction itself. Partly, this stems from genre stigma— sci-fi is still perceived as "escapist" rather than policy-relevant. Yet more fundamentally, it’s because sci-fi refuses to offer easy solutions. A detective story resolves with an arrest; a western ends with a showdown. But sci-fi’s best works—like Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, which predicts climate refugees and corporate feudalism—demand systemic scrutiny, not quick fixes. Such challenge to the status quo makes it uncomfortable for career politicians reliant on soundbites and four-year cycles.

Think of the EU’s recent AI Act proposal: many of its safeguards (e.g., banning AI-driven mass surveillance) mirror debates already aired in works like The Minority Report (pre-crime) and Blade Runner (synthetic human rights). A policymaker steeped in Asimov rather than Agatha Christie might better anticipate such dilemmas—much like how China’s tech-industrial policies were reportedly influenced by Liu Cixin’s The Three-Body Problem, a novel that grasps the interplay of science, governance, and historical cycles.

A Call for Speculative Governance

Clarke’s remark wasn’t merely a quirk of a visionary author. In a world where AI disinformation, biotech ethics, and space weaponization redefine power, leaders must grapple with questions first posed in science fiction. Fantasy may inspire individual courage, but science fiction trains collective imagination—the kind that drafts treaties, allocates research funds, or negotiates global compacts. Perhaps the most pressing "infrastructure" modern states should invest in isn’t physical, but narrative—stockpiling sci-fi texts in their policy think tanks as readily as economic reports.

Alternatively, we risk leaders oscillating between hyper-optimism (like Elon Musk’s Mars fantasies) and outright denialism (climate change skeptics). The middle path, Clarke argued, lies in embracing speculative inquiry. If today’s politicians don’t expand their reading lists to include at least a few volumes of Ursula K. Le Guin or N.K. Jemisin, they risk governing a future they refuse to envision—until it ambushes them, like a plot twist in a genre they never bothered to understand.