Let’s start with the obvious – the future is not fixed. It’s imagined. We don’t know what is going to happen; we can imagine it, craft narratives, or use science and research to predict theories, but it is not certain until it has happened. At the Zapp Solarpunk session during WDCD Live 2025, we were invited to look more closely at how those imagined futures take form, who gets to tell them and how creativity and storytelling impacts what will happen more than we realise.
Filmmaker and climate scientist Safi Graauw led the session, but it was less of a talk, more of a rapid-fire visual essay. Three films “zapped” through speculative futures, made up of clips from films, ads and other culturally relevant examples of the imagined future. Each one offered a different lens on what tomorrow might look like. The first, full of hope and optimism. The second, a less positive outlook of what could happen to the planet if we do nothing. The third, questioning larger questions of our relationships to one another, once technology is in the mix. All of them revealed the power of culture to shape our collective imagination.
Safi’s journey into this world began with a question. What if science isn’t being heard because it’s not being felt? He spoke of his desire to become a bridge between science and society, someone who could translate data into stories. Stories that move, stories that stay. His first short film, on how the Maasai are responding to climate change, won a prize and sparked a career built on exactly that kind of translation.
At the heart of this session was the contrast between two genres: solarpunk and cyberpunk.
Film one was based around Solarpunk, a relatively young genre, rooted in climate optimism, sustainability and mutual care. It’s a vision of the future where we have fixed things: nature is thriving, technology is soft and supportive and people are kinder. It’s the kind of, arguably, utopian world we might want to live in. One example highlighted in Safi’s short film was Dear Alice, a speculative yoghurt advert told as a letter from a grandmother to her granddaughter. It showed a future that felt tender and possible, rather than cold and abstract. Solarpunk as a genre or concept, is more than just an aesthetic; it’s a mindset. A quiet rebellion against the idea that we’re already doomed.
The second film explored Cyberpunk. The bleak future we get if we do nothing. Its aesthetic is dark, neon-lit, and imagines a future controlled by powerful tech giants. Think The Matrix, or Black Mirror, there’s an edge of glamour to it, but also a sense of warning. It shows us what happens when technology serves the few and leaves the rest behind. When Safi asked an AI how likely it is that we’re heading into a cyberpunk future, the answer it gave was 40 to 60 percent. Not ideal.
Cyberpunk connects to the wider theory known as techno-feudalism. It’s the idea that our current economic system is starting to look less like capitalism and more like a digital version of the Middle Ages. Tech companies act like feudal lords and we, the users, provide labour in the form of data. Most of us don’t read the terms and conditions, and just click agree without thinking, choosing efficiency over meticulousness, further feeding the machine without even realising it. Black Mirror doesn’t seem so far off anymore.
But this session wasn’t just a reflection on pop culture. It was a reminder that imagination is infrastructure. The stories we tell ourselves about the future shape what we believe is possible. Stories have the power to either feed our fear or offer something else entirely. Solarpunk gives us a different path. It doesn’t ignore the crisis, it simply refuses to be paralysed by it. As Safi put it, it is easier to inspire action through possibility than through despair. Another oil-covered bird won’t move people, freezing people with catastrophe isn’t helpful, but a vision of something worth fighting for is.
One of the more sobering points raised was the idea that solarpunk and cyberpunk aren’t entirely theoretical. In many parts of the world, particularly the Global South, people are already living with the consequences of climate breakdown and techno-surveillance. For some, cyberpunk is not a future genre. It’s a lived reality. And yet, there are also glimpses of solarpunk in these same spaces, community resilience, innovation, and acts of mutual care. Perhaps we are already living both futures at once?
The third film turned personal, towards human connection. Through films like Her and his own use of ChatGPT to help process emotions, Safi explored how technology is changing our emotional lives. AI companions may offer us attention, comfort, and even intimacy. But are they helping us get closer or driving us into ourselves and ultimately, towards loneliness?
As guest at the talk put it, “Tech may offer mirrors, but it cannot offer love.”
Loneliness is as harmful as smoking twenty cigarettes a day, and no amount of algorithmic reflection can replace what it means to be held, to be seen by another person in all their complexity. AI might replicate some aspects of connection, but it cannot reproduce spontaneity, serendipity, or chaos, and maybe it shouldn’t. Perhaps some things are human, and sometimes human error can lead to beautiful moments, interesting stories and unexpected connections. Perhaps, we aren’t replaceable just yet.
So, overall, a lot of food for thought and a lot to think about. As mentioned at the beginning, we can’t know what the future holds, but we can take responsibility for shaping stories, narratives and culture with care. If the futures we imagine matter, then perhaps the best thing we can do is create and consume an imagined future we are happy with.
Words by Kat Milligan, communications strategist & manager, copywriter, and DJ based in Amsterdam, NL