why we need experiential imaginations to inform policy
Why We Need Experiential Imaginations to Inform Policy
— and not just another strategy document
Policymaking often deals in logic, evidence, and long-term projections. And yet, most of the things that shift public behaviour, spark momentum, or derail plans completely—are emotional. They’re about fear, hope, loss, pride, belonging.
So why are we still designing policy in ways that ignore how people actually feel?
At Feeldwork, we believe that if you want to shape meaningful, grounded, long-term policy, you need to involve the imagination. Not the imagination as fantasy or escape—but as a tool for making complexity tangible, and possible futures personal.
We call this experiential imagination. It’s a way of making future decisions feel real enough to matter now.
People can’t choose futures they can’t feel
Most of us don’t respond well to abstract timelines or 120-page PDFs. But give someone a chance to stand in a possible future, look around, and make decisions from inside it—and suddenly the stakes change.
In our work, we design immersive futures experiences that invite people to become the future: a River Guardian in 2040, a Food Resilience Councillor in 2035, a Grandparent in a rewilded Highlands. These imagined roles aren't just storytelling devices—they're tools for emotional sense-making.
From this place, people speak with more clarity about what they want to protect, what they’re afraid of, what trade-offs they’re willing to make.
This is the groundwork for better policy. Not just consultation, but participation in shaping what’s possible.
Feeling is data too
We’re not suggesting you ditch the spreadsheets. But data doesn’t just live in numbers—it lives in people. In stories. In contradictions. In memory, and hunches, and deeply held values.
Experiential imagination helps surface those things. It allows people to test ideas emotionally, not just rationally.
And when people are emotionally invested, they’re more likely to stay involved—through messy transitions, imperfect pilots, and slow-moving systems.
Policy built from that kind of involvement holds up better. Because it’s already been through the fire of feeling.
Imagination reveals what's missing
Ask people what future they want, and they might give you a cautious list of what's politically acceptable.
But invite them into a future world they help co-create—give them props, maps, tensions, choices—and they’ll start asking different questions. The kind that reveal systemic gaps, or unexpected opportunities.
In our workshops, participants regularly spot policy blindspots: “Why isn’t anyone planning for seaweed farming in this bay?” “Why don’t we have a climate grief service?” “Why do the same communities get asked, but not resourced?”
Imagination surfaces what metrics miss. And when policy can respond to those deeper currents, it gets sharper—and more just.
From strategy to story to action
Policymaking needs rigour. But it also needs rhythm, risk, and room for human complexity.
Experiential futures methods don’t replace traditional policy tools—they enrich them. They add depth, texture, and the kinds of insights you only get when people stop spectating and start inhabiting the future.
If we want bold climate policy, regenerative land strategies, or resilient rural economies, we have to start imagining them as lived experiences—not just line items.
Because the future is not a spreadsheet. It’s a place we’re all going to live.
Want to explore what this looks like in practice?
We’ve worked with councils, communities, and conservation groups to co-design future scenarios that feel—and function—differently.
Get in touch to find out more, or see some of our recent projects here.