A Logic for the Future: Stephen Heintz and Kim Stanley Robinson on Imagining Planetary Governance

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Overview

On March 19, 2025, at the Cowell Theatre in San Francisco, the Long Now Foundation brought together two people who approach the same problem from opposite ends. Stephen Heintz is a public policy expert and president of the Rockefeller Brothers Fund. Kim Stanley Robinson is a science fiction writer whose novels include the Mars trilogy and The Ministry for the Future. The board president of Long Now moderated. The question for the evening was how the international system, built around sovereign nation-states, could be reimagined for a planet facing crises that no single nation can solve. The moderator framed the conversation as a "journey of imagination" that would start at the planetary scale, move in to the international and the local, and then zoom back out into the future.

33 min read

Both speakers argued that the current system is, in Heintz's recurring phrase, part of "the logic of the past." They also agreed that the tools for building something better already exist in partial form: the European Union, track-two diplomacy, the UN's Pact for the Future, citizens' assemblies, and conservation programs that looked utopian only a few years ago.

Arriving at the Planetary Frame

Robinson traced his planetary perspective to the start of his career as a science fiction writer in the 1970s. The Viking missions gave humanity Mars "in a way never existed before," apart from some earlier Mariner data. Voyager then revealed the rest of the solar system. For a young science fiction writer, he said, the subject was planets. Science fiction is "the literature where you can actually use the word planet without boggling people's minds," and the planetary romance was a well-established form in the work of Jack Vance, Frank Herbert, and Ursula K. Le Guin. Mars had suddenly become millions of times better documented, and nobody had yet written it up. That project took a large part of his life.

Looking back at Earth from that vantage point, Robinson said, the conclusion is obvious. Earth is the best planet for human beings, who co-evolved with it. It is one space, one biosphere, and one species, and "it ought to be governed as such if we want to be in a good relationship with the rest of the biosphere." That it is not governed this way, he added, means there are more stories to tell.

Heintz came to the same frame through the study of political history and international relations. History is always turbulent, he acknowledged, but he argued that the 21st century differs because multiple sources of turbulence are producing planetary consequences at the same time. He named three simultaneous existential threats: the climate crisis, a new nuclear arms race that is beginning, and emerging technologies whose governance no one can yet imagine well enough to capture their benefits while avoiding deep risks. In his view this is an inflection point for planetary survival. Unless people begin thinking at the planetary level and adjust current systems accordingly, the "age of turbulence" could become an "age of catastrophe."

Fiction, Realism, and the Critique of the Nation-State

The moderator noted that the two speakers cross over: Robinson writes fiction grounded in research and in conversation with policymakers, while Heintz works in policy, philanthropy, and think tanks and draws inspiration from fiction. Robinson explained why his fiction requires research. Once a writer tells a story set in the future, he said, realism is gone, and readers have reason to question everything. The sets can look like cardboard, "like the Star Trek bridge." His aesthetic goal has been to make the future "more real than realism," which means learning enough to make the story feel solid.

That research, Robinson said, quickly led him to two conclusions. The first is that the nation-state system is a historical artifact not fit for planetary governance. It is a zero-sum game and a source of misunderstanding and strife. The second, given his background, is that capitalism as currently practiced is "a kind of predatory parasitic social system" that produces inequality and environmental destruction as part of how it works. The line drew applause, and Robinson remarked that in San Francisco it would.

Robinson then turned the question to Heintz. Heintz had seen nation-states try to get along, for example during the Iran nuclear negotiations, and had found a role for organizations like his as a kind of clutch or lubricant that keeps the gears of diplomacy from seizing up.

The Iran Case: Track-Two Diplomacy as Intermediary

Heintz told a condensed version of a long story. On September 11, 2001, his office on Madison Avenue looked straight down toward the Twin Towers. The next morning the towers were gone and smoke was rising from the site. Like everyone, he began asking what the attacks meant. Attention was focused on the Arab world because the attackers were Sunni Arabs. Looking at the map, Heintz kept returning to Iran. It was a large, geostrategically located Shia country that Americans barely understood, because the United States had had no diplomatic relations with it since the 1979 revolution. He had a feeling Iran would loom large in the coming years, though he said he knew nothing about Iran himself at the time.

Through the networking his profession allows, he was introduced to Iran's ambassador to the United Nations. The ambassador told him that Americans and Iranians needed a way to talk about the issues dividing them, or the two countries would be on a collision course. The result was a track-two diplomatic effort: unofficial, but staffed by serious practitioners. The American team consisted of distinguished former diplomats who had served in both Republican and Democratic administrations, some at very high levels, including a former ambassador to the UN. The Iranians eventually assembled their own team. Heintz said that simply getting started was very complicated.

Heintz explained that the governments could not do this themselves because of the zero-sum logic of international relations and the grievances each side carried. Americans carried the memory of the hostage crisis. Iranians carried the memory of the 1953 overthrow of Mohammad Mossadegh, the democratically elected prime minister who had nationalized the oil industry. Heintz gave an example of "how stupid it gets": American diplomats at embassy receptions at the UN were not allowed even to greet Iranian diplomats in the same room.

The two teams met dozens of times in the woods outside Stockholm. Once trust was established, they began putting ideas on the table about how the nuclear problem might be solved and what each side could accept. Participants then returned to their capitals. The Americans went to the White House and State Department to report what they had learned, received the government's perceptions, and met again about six weeks later. Heintz described this as an iterative process that generated useful ideas. He was careful not to overstate its impact, but said that John Kerry, and even President Obama, would say it helped create the possibility of direct negotiations between the two governments. Once official track-one negotiations began, the track-two process continued to feed ideas into them. He noted that the process is still ongoing. For Heintz, the case shows that civil society organizations can serve as constructive intermediaries on problems of planetary significance.

Utopia as Process, Not Endpoint

Asked what "things working out" might look like, Robinson described himself as a utopian science fiction writer, which he called unusual. He repeated a formulation he said he may have used on the same stage before: utopias are like blueprints and novels are like soap operas, and combining the two does not automatically produce good art. Le Guin's The Dispossessed showed it could be done, and he has held it up to himself ever since: "If it can be done once, it could be done again."

The key, Robinson argued, is to treat utopia as a process rather than an end state, a name for "positive history." Seen that way, utopia generates stories, because it must be created and then protected. He quoted what he called "the greatest American utopian science fiction story ever written": the line from the Gettysburg Address that government of the people, by the people, and for the people "shall not perish from the earth." He pointed out that it is written in the future tense, as an injunction, almost a legal term, and that it describes a story people have to keep alive. He concluded that the blueprint-versus-soap-opera framing had been mistaken. The real subject is history.

For the present moment, Robinson said, avoiding a mass extinction event counts as a utopian science fiction story, because "we are so scarily close. We've begun it." Pulling out will require extensive international cooperation. With the bar that low, he joked, many kinds of fiction could qualify as utopian.

The European Union as a Model of Pooled Sovereignty

Robinson turned to Heintz's monograph, A Logic for the Future, and its ideas of "scaling up" and "scaling in." He noted that Heintz calls the EU the most important development of the second half of the 20th century. Robinson said his late teacher Fredric Jameson had taught him the same thing: moving from nation-state to member state is crucial legally, financially, and psychologically.

Before answering, Heintz recalled Andrew Wyeth describing his paintings as "dreaming in the presence of reality." He said Robinson's novels do this with science, and his own work attempts it with the realities of international relations. The founders of the EU, he argued, were doing exactly that. Europe had fought two world wars back to back, largely between France and Germany, and the founders set out to invent something that would prevent a third. They started small with the European Coal and Steel Community, a common market for those products, and kept building. Today the EU is thought of as a political entity and an economy roughly equivalent in GDP to the United States, but Heintz stressed that it was fundamentally a peace project and has worked well ever since.

The real lesson, in his view, is that 27 countries have given up some sovereignty because they see the benefit of pooling it and addressing environmental, economic, political, social, and now security problems collectively. He called this probably the most successful political development of the 20th century and a model for the future. He acknowledged its flaws, which the Europeans themselves recognize. The founding documents of the EU (the Treaty of Rome and the Maastricht Treaty), the US Constitution, and the UN Charter are all, he said, flawed in fundamental ways and have become almost unamendable, even though they need amending for these institutions to stay relevant.

Heintz highlighted a second European innovation: subsidiarity, the principle that problems should be handled by the level of government best able to solve them. A city like San Francisco should manage building codes for earthquake resilience. A planetary problem like climate change needs planetary institutions. Regional organizations such as the EU, the African Union, and ASEAN are starting to play an intermediary role. The nation-state will not become irrelevant, he said, but it must become less dominant. Nation-states fight wars, violate the Paris Agreement, and withdraw from it. The nation-state is a 17th-century invention dating to the Treaty of Westphalia, which ended the Thirty Years' War. It need not be eliminated, but it belongs to the logic of the past and has to be redesigned.

Amendment Bars, the "Lazy Voter Act," and Sufficient Consensus

Robinson picked up the point about unamendable documents. The bar for amending the US Constitution is so high, he said, that "even the youngest person here will probably never see an amendment," even though there are 27 and the process used to work. The UN Charter has a similar two-thirds requirement. The COP process under the Paris Agreement requires unanimity for its annual statements, which he called impossible, and there is now talk of "unanimity minus one or minus five." The EU has some tools to pressure a single recalcitrant member, and he gave Hungary as an example, but most of these bars are too high. He compared them to the rules of a California homeowners association, where two-thirds of all residents must vote yes to change anything.

Robinson's proposed remedy came from California, which he said has what is called a "Lazy Voter Act." If an association makes a legitimate attempt and reaches something like 50 percent but not two-thirds, it can go to a judge, who can approve the change on the grounds that the non-voters were lazy. The world, he suggested, needs something similar, perhaps a world court in the H. G. Wells style. A world court exists but does not really function as one. Such a body could allow institutional change at, say, 60 percent rather than 67. He added that the organizers of COP30 in Belém, Brazil, would bring proposals to change the process so it does not become irrelevant by being "so damn slow."

Heintz offered his preferred term: "sufficient consensus," meaning not unanimity but enough agreement to indicate a direction. Robinson noted a problem with the word itself. In English "consensus" can mean either everyone or most people, and which one is meant only becomes clear when the matter is hashed out.

The Summit of the Future and the Pact for the Future

The moderator observed that existing governance structures were once acts of great imagination, and asked Heintz, who helped shape the UN Summit of the Future, what he had seen there. Heintz credited Secretary-General António Guterres with the idea and quoted his framing: the international system designed by our grandparents is not fit for the future our grandchildren deserve. Guterres set out to think about "the UN we need as opposed to the UN we have." The summit was a heads-of-state gathering preceded by two years of negotiations among the 193 member states over successive drafts of the outcome document, the Pact for the Future.

Heintz pointed out a coincidence. Mary Murphy, the head of the ministry in Robinson's novel, is an Irish diplomat and politician. The person Guterres tasked with organizing the summit was also an Irish diplomat, Michelle Griffin, whom both speakers came to know and whom Heintz called an extraordinary global public servant. At the outset many people did not take the summit seriously because it seemed utopian. Heintz framed the challenge as turning a utopian idea into something meaningful through iteration, which with 193 sovereign states is "a messy process at the very best."

The document had to be adopted by unanimous consensus, and it nearly failed at the last moment. Russia put forward a motion that would have derailed the whole effort. According to Heintz, the African group in the General Assembly pushed back hardest, and Russia's amendment failed with only five countries voting for it.

Heintz admitted the resulting document is "pretty turgid" and written in UN language. He still called it an important benchmark. It contains 56 commitments by member states toward building the UN that is needed. It falls short in many areas, but it is the first major statement on Security Council reform the UN has adopted since 1963. It includes an annex called the Global Digital Compact, which he especially recommended to the Long Now audience, and a Declaration on Future Generations. One outcome is that the Secretary-General will appoint an envoy for future generations, meaning not today's youth but "literally the unborn" and their rights.

What inspired Heintz was seeing ordinary people who happened to be diplomats work hard, compromise, and produce a baseline. The open question now is accountability. He argued this will have to come from global civil society, movements, think tanks, and investigative journalism, the same means used to hold countries to their climate and human rights commitments, with greater ambition. The pact, he said, will not solve the global problem on its own, but it is a start.

How Others Can Take Part: A Kindergarten, San Francisco, and Oxford

Asked how the audience could see a role for themselves, Robinson told a story from Germany. A group of women approached him and said they ran a ministry for the future, which turned out to be a kindergarten. The point, he said, is that "we all can do stuff." He then praised California and San Francisco, which he called the cultural leader of the world, a place where one can feel "the shadow of the future" being made by collective action. Here, he said, one does not have to be a tiny minority fighting alone.

Robinson then criticized people in Washington, D.C. He spoke of genocide, ecocide, and "attempted future-side," an attempt to kill the future, which he said cannot be done. He described it as a fantasy of people burying their heads in the sand and hoping to return to the past. "As a science fiction writer, I hate fantasy," he joked. The future comes regardless of what a few reactionaries do "in a momentary seizure of power."

Heintz pointed to another creative community that had responded to Robinson's novel: scholars and scientists at Oxford who created an Oxford Ministry for the Future. Robinson said it involves Hertford College and a couple of the business schools, and that he was made "instantly emeritus and advisory," which he said beats having to do the work. He has asked them to take up specific topics. An upcoming session at the end of April would address the health of wild animals and ideas such as interspecies money and debt-for-nature swaps: how to bring "our fellow citizens that happen to be the other creatures" into political economy. The group plans two or three meetings a year. Robinson described Oxford as a complicated but productive ecology where people are excited and talking energetically.

Robinson also reflected on the power of phrasing. It had to be the ministry for the future, not of the future. There were about 20 candidate titles for the book, and for once he insisted on keeping his own. The phrase seems to act as "a turning of a key in people's imaginations."

Heintz added that 2025 is an especially interesting year for San Francisco to think about its role in the international system, given that the UN originated in the city. He argued that the area's entrepreneurial, technological, political, and societal imagination is exactly what the conversation about a new international system needs.

A Retreating United States: From Indispensable Nation to Indispensable Partner

An audience member noted that the US appears to be retreating from building global coalitions and asked whether the speakers' hopes for the next decade had changed. Heintz explained that he wrote the monograph in 2023 and published it in 2024, before both the election and the Summit of the Future. At the end of 2024 he reread it to see what should change and "hardly changed a word." He admitted this might be pride of authorship taken to extremes, but he believes the ideas are more relevant now. One of the paper's key subchapters argues that the United States must completely transform how it behaves in the world, and that has become more apparent over the preceding 55 or so days.

Specifically, Heintz argued that the US must give up the notion of great-power dominance and the idea of being "the indispensable nation," a phrase coined by his friend Madeleine Albright, about which the two used to argue. The US should instead be an "indispensable partner": more humble, more honest, less hypocritical, and supportive of the International Court of Justice rather than walking away from it. He noted that the Long Now community talks a lot about creative destruction, and said that what is happening now is "all destruction and no creativity." That leaves room for others to supply the creativity. People must defend and protect what needs protecting, and then use the destruction as material for building something new.

At the moderator's prompting, Heintz told the story of the Atlantic Charter. In August 1941, Hitler had swept across Europe, Britain was hanging on by a thread, and the US had not yet entered the war. Churchill and Roosevelt met on a ship off Newfoundland and drafted a short, beautifully written document laying out what Heintz called a utopian vision for the postwar world. In his summary, the major powers would forgo force to settle their differences, there would be freedom from want, problems would be solved cooperatively, and mechanisms would be built to prevent another such war. They did not even know whether they would win, yet they "pierced the darkness." According to Heintz, the charter became part of the inspiration for the United Nations, founded in San Francisco in 1945. The lesson he drew was the combination of moral and political imagination with political will: they had the vision and were determined to make it happen.

Robinson on Empire, Supply Chains, and the Cuts to Medical Research

Robinson responded through the lens of subsidiarity and American identity. He described California as a "magical catastrophe" spanning the Gold Rush, Hollywood, and Silicon Valley, a place with 115 languages where people from everywhere come to make something new. In that sense, he said, America is indispensable as an idea of everyone getting along together. But the utopian dream of America is bound to "the horrible empire, the manifest destiny, the genocide of the Native Americans." The two stories are "like conjoined twins." They cannot be separated, only improved through clear sight and acknowledgment of both.

He cited figures to describe American power: about 5 percent of the world's population, about 7 percent of its land surface, about 70 percent of its capital, plus the dollar as the benchmark currency, which together make "a fiscal empire of immense power." Empires fall, he said, and people devoted to them get very upset when they do, but there are real advantages to not being an empire, since empire is always oppressive, "a form of master-slave relationship." When people in power celebrate the bad part of America as its highest value, it creates an opening to insist on the other, better America. Much of that is illustrated in California, he said, but it needs to happen at the federal level.

Robinson then described a map he said he had recently seen from the economist Doyne Farmer, now at Oxford. It showed everything required to make a single laptop: roughly 60 points around the world connected by about 300 lines, not counting the expertise involved. This, he argued, is why tariffs and a "fortress America" are a "stupid fantasy" with "a certain viciousness to it." It cannot be enacted because a laptop cannot be made without engaging the whole world. Globalization, "for better and worse, it worked." Farmer had taught him that supply chains are not really chains but networks and loops, an ecology. Robinson predicted the fantasy that one nation, even the one holding the dollar, could dominate the network would crash, leaving others to pick up the pieces.

He was most pointed about cuts to the National Institutes of Health, which he called "particularly stupid and vicious" and "a murder-suicide," since everyone suffers when medical research stops. He rejected efforts to find a rational motive. Instead, he characterized it as Götterdämmerung: "if I have to go down, the world's going down with me," a form of "malignant narcissism" with smokescreens but no economic plan. He cited a cost-benefit estimate he attributed to social scientists: for every $10 billion devoted to medical research, the average human lifespan rises by about a month. He said he has been telling college students that, being young, they will suffer the greatest loss of lifetime, and that the preceding 55 days or so had shortened their lives by months to years. Death, he said, is "the incontrovertible reality," and shortening lifespans for a cause without rationale reflects a destructive mentality that must be resisted, stopped, and reversed. That will be hard, he acknowledged. Something broken in six months may take ten years to fix, though some things can be reversed immediately. He closed by saying reality will win in the end, and therefore "the people who are the party of reality will win in the end."

Can Representative Government Scale to 8 Billion?

Kevin Kelly asked how representative government for 8 billion people might work. Robinson described a practice he had recently heard about from Taiwan, noting that it might be Kelly's own idea coming back to him. A group of citizens is convened much like a jury, given food, time off work, and a political problem to brainstorm. Robinson acknowledged that most brainstorming sessions feel like a wasted day. In this program, however, a large language model turns the day's post-it notes into two pieces of draft legislation, which the Taiwanese legislature has agreed in advance to consider. The result is crowdsourced legislation that bypasses gatekeepers and lobbyists. Robinson thought it would scale while remaining representative, and saw it as a case where AI assistance looks genuinely useful. A model can summarize in about 30 seconds what might take a human two months, and a human's bias would shape the summary anyway.

Heintz agreed and pointed to many experiments with citizens' assemblies, facilitated and moderated deliberative gatherings whose output is used by legislative bodies. Technology, he said, can scale these remarkably. He added that he is "not yet an advocate for world government," which he considers both frightening to people and inadequate as an idea. He sees ways of aggregating citizen opinion and contribution as the right starting point.

Complexity Versus Control

Peter Schwartz asked why, in several of Robinson's books such as Aurora, complexity defeats humanity's ability to control it. Robinson questioned whether the two words belong together. Complexity, as he understands it, concerns emergence: new, unpredictable levels arising from simpler earlier systems. Life, weather, and the universe are complex. "Control" comes from a different universe of engineering, and he said even engineering schools would say their work is about coping, not control. He described Aurora as a starship novel in which people travel to another planet, realize humans will only thrive on Earth, and try to return. Their attempt to control an environment completely and move elsewhere might be read as an attempt at control, and the complexity of their situation drives them back to the place they co-evolved with. He called that "one story to tell."

China: The Most Consequential Relationship

Don Means submitted a one-word question: "China?" Heintz said he has been going to China since 1976, shortly after college. The Rockefeller Brothers Fund has an office in Beijing, and, to his own surprise, the Chinese government appointed him to a high-level international advisory body on environment and development. He said China takes that body extremely seriously, and that nothing like it exists in Washington. He has come to appreciate China's complexity and its extraordinary progress in many fields.

In simplified terms, Heintz argued, the world is becoming "a G2 world, not a G20 world," with China and the United States as the two major powers economically, technologically, environmentally, and militarily. He called the US–China relationship the most consequential of the 21st century and warned that getting it wrong means planetary catastrophe. Framing it as a new cold war, in his view, drags people back into the logic of the past, with its binaries of us versus them and its bipolar world. He summarized the alternative as competing where necessary, cooperating where necessary, and avoiding confrontation for the planet's benefit. He said this is not easy, and that the US is not approaching it thoughtfully.

His monograph proposes that the relationship should not be left to episodic summits between presidents or meetings between counterpart ministers. Those are necessary but not sufficient. Instead, he proposes a joint entity in a neutral location such as Geneva or Singapore, where senior civil servants from the key ministries of both countries would be seconded to work together daily. They would argue, debate, produce ideas, write papers, and send them back to their capitals.

Long-Term Thinking Against Short-Term Catastrophism

Gideon asked how to stoke interest in long-term utopian thinking when people are consumed by short-term catastrophism. Robinson admitted it is "harder than hell," especially for people who are stressed and part of the precariat, "which means almost everybody." But he also called it natural. People care intensely about their children and grandchildren, and it takes only one more step to realize those grandchildren will have grandchildren of their own. That leads to the Indigenous notion of seven generations: the seven that came before and made you, and the seven that follow. If people can clear any space in their heads from the daily pressure of making ends meet, he said, this kind of thinking is "as natural as being human."

Heintz added that there is something liberating about focusing on a longer-term and potentially optimistic future, and that it can reinvigorate how people deal with day-to-day problems. Robinson agreed. The moderator added that long-term thinking is the opposite of a constant crisis mindset.

Closing Visions: The Berlin Wall and Half-Earth

For the final question, the moderator asked each speaker what it might feel like for imagination to truly blossom in the future. Heintz answered with the Berlin Wall. One month before it fell, he crossed through Checkpoint Charlie from West to East Berlin, spent the day in the East, and returned that evening. He left convinced that the divided city was an abomination that would not change in his lifetime. A month later the wall came down. People can convince themselves that things will not change, he said, and then they do. The real question is whether people are prepared to make the best of such moments. One cannot prepare for the unimaginable event itself, but one can prepare for what the event makes possible.

Heintz called the period from 1989 to the end of 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed, "a moment of missed creativity." The United States in particular treated it as a triumph: the end of communism, the victory of capitalism and democracy, a comfortable unipolar moment. It failed to imagine that the moment would evaporate, which it quickly did. Because imagination was not exercised then, he argued, the world became stuck in the logic of the past and is repeating actions that will lead to further global difficulty. Thinking ahead and being ready to pivot when unexpected moments arrive is, for him, what everyone must prepare for.

Robinson said that when he finished The Ministry for the Future, he considered its most unrealistic and utopian element to be E. O. Wilson's Half-Earth idea: confining human impact to about half of the planet's land and oceans so that wild creatures, and in turn humans, could flourish. Yet there is now a 30x30 program in California and internationally, aiming to leave 30 percent of land and ocean to wild creatures. He noted that the idea was not originally Wilson's. It had precursors in early American and early 20th-century history, and Wilson codified it into a system. Robinson had met Jennifer Norris, who heads California's 30x30 program. She told him the state is at about 25 percent, needs to reach 30, and will get there, and that people in her program talk about "50 by 50": half the Earth by 2050. That, Robinson said, implies regenerative agriculture, healthy fellow creatures, and dodging the mass extinction event. So one can imagine a utopian space and also see its roots and first shoots. He compared this to the rapid growth of spring and called it unstoppable, even by the negative forces at work.

Robinson said he had spent the previous five years traveling the world talking to people about these issues. It had been intense and very interesting, and he compared it to how Stewart Brand and Kevin Kelly have lived for the past 50 years. From these travels he sensed that humans as a group are realizing that 8 billion people on the planet is "a technological achievement" but "unstable as hell." The work ahead is to stabilize it so that everyone has adequate means of life and the opportunity "to become more like themselves than ever before," which he called a great definition of utopian space. If humanity can thread the needles of the next few decades, he said, it could reach a place of astonishing potential.

He ended with what he called another great American short story: "We must all hang together, or else we will all hang separately." His closing request to the audience was to hold the line, keep their nerve, and hang together.