One of my all-time Phil Dick faves, zipped along by his keen sense of fun, is a fine example of how well-suited science fiction is to expounding psychosocial truths.
Inmates of an asylum for the insane are transported to an uninhabited moon, only for their doctors’ rocket ship never to make it there, leaving them to form their own society, which they run in accordance with their particular mental disorders. The paranoid assume supreme leadership, the manics are the military, the schizos are visionaries and the OCD’s dedicate themselves to administrative detail and the status quo.
I mean, just look around you! 😛
Make the clans supporting actors to a murderous marital spat and away you go. Me, I would have adored the book forever just for featuring a telepathic Ganymedean slime mould called Lord Running Clam.