Not only that, but that section should also include a monetary deposit that the author forfeits if his predictions turn out to be false. This would allow the readers to see how much belief the author himself has in his theories.
Of course, if one predicts something to happen a relatively long time from now, this might not work because the deposit effectively feels lost (hyperbolic discounting). For instance, I wrote an essay speculating on true AI within 50 years: regardless of how confident I am of the essay's premises and logical chains, I wouldn't deposit any major sums to it, simply because "I'll get it back in 50 years" is far enough in the future to feel equivalent to "I'll never get it back". I have more use for that money now. (Not to mention that inflation would eat pretty heavily on the sum, unless an interest of some sort was paid.)
Were we talking about predictions made for considerably shorter time scales, then deposits would probably work better, but I still have a gut feeling that any deposits made on predictions with a time scale of several years would be much lower than was to be expected from the futurists' actual certainty of opinion. (Not to mention that the deposits would vary based on the personal income level of each futurist, making accurate comparisons harder.)
The Wikipedia entry on Friedman Units tracks over 30 different cases between 2003 and 2007 in which someone labeled the "next six months" as the "critical period in Iraq". Apparently one of the worst offenders is journalist Thomas Friedman after whom the unit was named (8 different predictions in 4 years). In similar news, some of my colleagues in Artificial Intelligence (you know who you are) have been predicting the spectacular success of their projects in "3-5 years" for as long as I've known them, that is, since at least 2000.
Why do futurists make the same mistaken predictions over and over? The same reason politicians abandon campaign promises and switch principles as expediency demands. Predictions, like promises, are sold today and consumed today. They produce a few chewy bites of delicious optimism or delicious horror, and then they're gone. If the tastiest prediction is allegedly about a time interval "3-5 years in the future" (for AI projects) or "6 months in the future" (for Iraq), then futurists will produce tasty predictions of that kind. They have no reason to change the formulation any more than Hershey has to change the composition of its chocolate bars. People won't remember the prediction in 6 months or 3-5 years, any more than chocolate sits around in your stomach for a year and keeps you full.
The futurists probably aren't even doing it deliberately; they themselves have long since digested their own predictions. Can you remember what you had for breakfast on April 9th, 2006? I bet you can't, and I bet you also can't remember what you predicted for "one year from now".