Reflections on my conversation with Sohail Inayatullah
After more than fifty conversations about co-creating the Third Attractor, I find myself returning to a question that seems both simple and almost impossible to answer: How do we actually move from the world we have to the world we sense is possible? We are living in a time when the limitations of our current civilization are becoming increasingly visible. Our political systems struggle to address global challenges, our economies continue to reward extraction and competition, and our technological capacities are developing much faster than our collective wisdom. At the same time, there is an extraordinary amount of creativity, intelligence, and goodwill emerging around the world. People are experimenting with new forms of cooperation, new economic models, new ways of organizing communities, and new understandings of our relationship with nature and each other. Yet the question remains how these emerging possibilities can become powerful enough to change the direction in which humanity is moving.
My recent conversation with futurist Sohail Inayatullah brought a particularly interesting perspective to this question. Sohail has spent decades working with governments, international organizations, businesses, and communities, helping them explore possible futures and understand how they might consciously influence what comes next. What I found compelling about his approach is that he takes imagination seriously as a force in shaping reality, while remaining very aware of the practical difficulties involved in transforming existing systems. He does not assume that a better future will emerge simply because we can imagine it, but he also does not accept that we are merely passive observers of historical forces beyond our control. We are participants in an unfolding process, and the futures we imagine influence the choices we make today.
One of the frameworks he introduced is what he calls the Futures Triangle. It describes three forces that shape any possible future: the pull of the future, the push of the present, and the weight of the past. The pull of the future is the vision that attracts us, the possibility of something better that gives direction to our actions. The push of the present consists of developments already underway, such as technological innovation, demographic change, or emerging social movements. And the weight of the past represents everything that holds us in place: established institutions, economic interests, inherited worldviews, collective fears, and structures of power that have developed over centuries. A future becomes possible when we understand how these three forces interact and where there is room for meaningful intervention.
I find this framework particularly relevant to the Third Attractor. When Daniel Schmachtenberger introduced the term, he described two powerful attractors towards which humanity appears to be moving: authoritarian control on one side and chaos and destruction on the other. The Third Attractor points towards another possibility, a civilization that is more conscious, cooperative, and life-affirming. But for it to become a genuine attractor, it must be more than an inspiring vision. It needs to become sufficiently real and compelling that people recognize it as a desirable direction for their own lives and for humanity as a whole. Sohail’s framework helps us understand why this is so difficult. We may have a powerful vision, and we may even have the technologies and knowledge required to realize it, but the weight of the past remains enormous. Existing systems are supported by deeply entrenched interests, and the people who benefit from them are rarely eager to give up their power.
Sohail identifies five fundamental contradictions that humanity needs to resolve. The first concerns governance. We live on one interconnected planet, facing challenges that no nation can solve independently, yet our political structures remain organized around competing nation-states. He argues that we need to move towards some form of planetary governance, with meaningful representation for all people rather than the concentration of decision-making power in a handful of powerful countries. The second contradiction concerns energy. We already have technologies that could allow us to move towards decentralized, renewable energy systems, yet our economies and political structures remain deeply dependent on fossil fuels and other established energy industries. The third concerns our relationship with nature and animals, particularly the possibility of moving towards predominantly plant-based food systems and a fundamentally different understanding of the living world. The fourth is the transition beyond patriarchy towards genuine gender partnership, which would require changes in our institutions, education, cities, and social relationships. And the fifth is the movement beyond a predominantly materialistic worldview towards one that recognizes the spiritual dimension of human existence.
These five shifts are interesting because they touch almost every dimension of our civilization. They also reveal how deeply interconnected our challenges are. We cannot create meaningful planetary cooperation while remaining primarily identified with national or cultural interests. We cannot develop a life-affirming relationship with nature while continuing to see the natural world mainly as a resource for human consumption. And we cannot establish new forms of governance without questioning our underlying assumptions about power, competition, and human nature. The transformation we are speaking about is therefore much more profound than a series of political reforms or technological innovations. It involves a fundamental change in how we understand ourselves and our place in the world.
This brings us to another important aspect of Sohail’s work, his method of Causal Layered Analysis. He distinguishes four levels at which we can understand social reality. At the surface are the visible problems, the events, statistics, and headlines that dominate public discussion. Beneath them are the systems and structures that produce these outcomes. Deeper still are the cultural assumptions and worldviews that make those systems appear natural or inevitable. And at the deepest level are the metaphors and stories through which we interpret reality. His central insight is that lasting transformation requires us to work at all these levels. Changing policies without changing the underlying worldview often produces only limited results, because the deeper assumptions that created the problem remain untouched.
He illustrated this with the familiar economic metaphor of the invisible hand. The idea that individual self-interest, operating through markets, will somehow produce collective benefit has shaped much of our modern economic thinking. But what happens if we replace the invisible hand with the metaphor of shared hands? Suddenly, different possibilities become imaginable. We begin to think about economic systems based on cooperation, shared responsibility, and the well-being of people and planet. This change in metaphor can then inform new structures, incentives, and ways of measuring success. Of course, a new story alone will not transform the economy, but it can change what we consider possible and desirable, and therefore what we are willing to create.
What I find particularly significant here is the recognition that much of what drives our individual and collective behavior remains unconscious. We tend to believe that we are responding rationally to the world as it is, while in reality our perceptions and choices are profoundly shaped by inherited stories, cultural conditioning, and experiences from the past. Sohail gave examples of how collective trauma can continue to influence national policies long after the original circumstances have disappeared. What once made sense as a response to scarcity or insecurity can become destructive when circumstances change. Yet we continue to act according to the old story because we have never made it conscious enough to question it.
This is closely connected to what I have been exploring throughout my Third Attractor conversations. Again and again, we arrive at the recognition that the world we experience is shaped by the level of consciousness through which we perceive it. We cannot simply think our way into a new civilization while remaining completely identified with the assumptions that created the old one. We need to become aware of our own worldviews, recognize their limitations, and develop the capacity to see beyond them. But I would also take this one step further. If we simply replace one worldview with another, however attractive the new one may be, have we really changed anything fundamental? Or does genuine transformation require a different relationship to our own thinking, a capacity to remain open to reality without immediately reducing it to another fixed interpretation?
Another particularly interesting part of our conversation concerned the relationship between small transformative initiatives and the existing institutions of society. In many discussions about the future, the idea emerges that we need to create islands of coherence, communities and organizations that begin to embody a different way of living. Rather than trying to reform large systems directly, these initiatives create working examples of what might become possible. Over time, the hope is that they become attractive enough for others to adopt similar approaches, gradually creating a larger movement of transformation.
There is something very compelling about this idea, and I certainly believe that experimentation with new forms of community and cooperation is essential. But Sohail introduced an important challenge. He pointed out that intentional communities often reproduce the very patterns they are trying to overcome. A group may come together around beautiful ideals of love, equality, cooperation, and spiritual development, yet when conflicts arise, questions of authority, accountability, money, and decision-making become unavoidable. Without adequate structures, these communities can end up reproducing patriarchy, power struggles, or authoritarian leadership, sometimes in even more concentrated forms than the surrounding society.
Having spent many years in spiritual communities, I find this observation particularly relevant. The experience of unity and shared purpose can be extraordinarily powerful, but it does not automatically resolve the complexities of human relationships. We still need clear agreements, transparent processes, ways to resolve conflict, and the willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. Spiritual realization does not exempt us from the practical realities of living and working together. In fact, I would argue that it should make us more willing to take responsibility for them.
Sohail therefore emphasizes the importance of engaging with existing institutions rather than simply withdrawing from them. Governments, corporations, and established organizations possess enormous resources, knowledge, and capacities that could be redirected towards a different future. They also embody lessons accumulated through centuries of experience, including important principles of accountability, separation of powers, and conflict resolution. Why would we want to abandon everything that humanity has learned? At the same time, we know that these institutions are often deeply resistant to change, precisely because they are designed to preserve the arrangements from which they emerged. For me, this suggests that we need both approaches. We need spaces in which new possibilities can be explored and embodied, and we need to work with the institutions that already shape the lives of billions of people. Perhaps the most promising path lies in creating a dynamic relationship between experimentation and institutional transformation.
This question becomes even more interesting when we consider the role of power. Sohail introduced the philosophy of P. R. Sarkar, who identified four fundamental forms of social power: the power of workers, the power of warriors, the power of intellectuals, and the power of capital. Each has a legitimate function, and each can become destructive when it dominates or serves only its own interests. Sarkar proposed a fifth possibility, the Sadvipra, a person capable of integrating these different forms of power in service of the whole. This is a fascinating idea because it addresses something that many transformative movements struggle with. We may have profound insights into consciousness, compassion, and cooperation, but that does not necessarily mean we understand how to organize an economy, protect vulnerable people, resolve conflicts, or exercise authority responsibly. Yet all these capacities are necessary if we want to create a civilization that can actually function.
The question of how to exercise power without becoming identified with it seems central to any serious attempt to co-create the Third Attractor. We need people who are capable of acting decisively, taking responsibility, and creating structures that work, while remaining deeply aware that their role is to serve something larger than themselves. This requires a level of maturity that goes beyond personal ambition or ideological commitment. It also requires us to recognize that power itself is not the problem. What matters is the consciousness from which it is exercised and the structures that ensure it remains accountable.
Perhaps the deepest resonance for me came when Sohail described the spiritual foundation of Sarkar’s philosophy. Sarkar insisted that spiritual realization and service to humanity belong together. Inner development, when disconnected from responsibility for the world, can become a form of self-absorption. And service without a deeper spiritual foundation can lead to exhaustion, resentment, or identification with the role of being the one who helps others. The two dimensions need each other.
This brought us directly to the teaching of my spiritual teacher, Andrew Cohen, and the nonduality of Being and Becoming. In the realization of Being, we discover a dimension of consciousness that is already free, whole, and untouched by the movements of the world. But evolution has not stopped. The universe continues to unfold, and we are conscious participants in that unfolding. The realization of our fundamental unity with existence can become the foundation for a radically different relationship to life itself. We begin to recognize that what happens in the world is not separate from us. We are part of one evolving process, and therefore we are also responsible for what happens next. This is the dimension of Becoming.
For me, the Third Attractor is inseparable from this realization. We can imagine a more cooperative civilization from within our existing sense of separation, and we can certainly develop better institutions, technologies, and economic arrangements. But I wonder how far this can take us if our fundamental experience of being human remains unchanged. What happens when we begin to experience ourselves as expressions of one evolving life process? How does that change our relationship to power, to nature, to other human beings, and to the future? I believe that this transformation of consciousness is essential, while recognizing that it must find expression in the practical realities of human life. Otherwise, even our most profound spiritual insights remain disconnected from the world we are trying to transform.
We also explored the role of artificial intelligence, which Sohail sees as an extraordinary amplifier of existing possibilities and contradictions. AI can reinforce our biases, inequalities, and destructive tendencies, but it can also help us develop new forms of care, cooperation, learning, and problem-solving. He gave the example of a young man who had created an almost frictionless relationship with AI. His digital companion constantly affirmed him, making him feel intelligent, successful, and appreciated. But the young man recognized that something essential was missing. Without challenge, discomfort, or genuine confrontation with reality, he was not growing. He therefore began to imagine AI as a coach rather than simply a companion, something that could support his development by helping him face what he needed to learn.
I found this example particularly interesting because it points towards a much larger question about human evolution. Growth requires tension. We develop through encountering what we do not yet know, what we cannot yet do, and what challenges our existing identity. If technology increasingly protects us from discomfort, we may create a world that feels easier while becoming less capable of meeting reality. On the other hand, if we use technology consciously, it could become an extraordinary instrument for learning, creativity, and cooperation. The question is whether AI will support the development of human consciousness or increasingly substitute artificial forms of intelligence and comfort for our own capacities. Sohail remains open to the possibility that AI will develop abilities we do not yet understand, while questioning whether it can ever genuinely enter the spiritual dimensions of meditation, surrender, or transcendence. I share his uncertainty. What seems clear is that we cannot separate the future of technology from the future of consciousness. The more powerful our technologies become, the more important it is that we develop the wisdom to use them.
Towards the end of our conversation, we returned to a question that has accompanied me throughout this entire exploration: Whose preferred future are we talking about? Sohail’s work emphasizes the importance of imagining a future that we genuinely want to create. But we live in a world of profoundly different cultures, values, worldviews, and experiences. What appears desirable from one perspective may look threatening from another. How can we ever arrive at a shared vision for humanity?
Sohail responded that despite these differences, his extensive work with people across cultures reveals a surprising degree of agreement about what makes life meaningful. People want safety, love, connection, health, and the opportunity to contribute. When invited to imagine their preferred future, they often see themselves surrounded by family, friends, and nature. They want to feel that their lives have mattered, that they have contributed something worthwhile, and that they belong to a larger whole. This is encouraging because it suggests that there may be much more common ground beneath our ideological differences than we usually recognize. We may disagree profoundly about the systems and structures through which these aspirations should be realized, but the underlying human longings are often remarkably similar.
Yet I would take the question one step further. In the spiritual understanding that has shaped my life, our deepest motivation does not arise merely from our personal preferences, cultural conditioning, or individual imagination. There is also the possibility of becoming sensitive to the movement of life itself. When we are less identified with our fears, desires, and inherited worldviews, something else becomes possible. We can begin to listen more deeply to what wants to emerge. This does not provide an easy answer to political or social questions, and it certainly does not mean that we can claim to know what evolution wants. But I believe it changes the quality of our participation. We become more capable of responding to emerging possibilities without immediately trying to control them or fit them into our existing understanding.
One insight that has become increasingly important to me through these conversations is that we need to develop a much greater capacity to hold complexity. We are living through a transition in which many of our established assumptions are breaking down. The old structures are still powerful, while the new ones are only beginning to emerge. It is tempting to respond by finding a new ideology, a new explanation, or a new system that promises to resolve the uncertainty. But perhaps the very capacity we need is the ability to remain open when we do not yet know. We need to become more comfortable with contradiction, uncertainty, and the fact that reality is always larger than our understanding of it.
For me, this is deeply connected to spiritual practice. Meditation allows us to step out of the constant movement of thought and reaction. It creates space in which we can see more clearly, listen more deeply, and become less compelled to immediately resolve every tension. From that space, we may be able to act with greater intelligence and sensitivity to what is actually happening. This does not mean withdrawing from the world or waiting passively for answers to appear. It means developing the inner freedom that allows us to participate without being completely driven by our fears, assumptions, and need for certainty.
Sohail’s practical advice at the end of our conversation was beautifully simple. Develop an inner practice. Examine the stories that shape your life. And identify where you can make a meaningful contribution. We cannot control the future, but we are not powerless. Each of us has a sphere of influence, relationships, capacities, and opportunities through which we can participate in what comes next. And because evolution continues, the process of questioning, learning, and adapting never really ends. What worked yesterday may no longer work tomorrow, and we need to remain willing to reconsider even our most cherished assumptions.
What I take away from my conversation with Sohail is a renewed appreciation for the relationship between imagination, consciousness, and practical action. The future is not simply something that will happen to us, nor is it something we can design and control according to a predetermined plan. We are participants in an unfolding process whose possibilities are much greater than we currently understand. The stories we live by shape what becomes possible, and even the most entrenched systems can change when new possibilities become sufficiently compelling.
After all these conversations, I am increasingly convinced that there is no single method, theory, or movement that will bring the Third Attractor into existence. We need the insights of science, the wisdom of spiritual traditions, the creativity of social innovators, the practical knowledge of institutions, and the courage of people who are willing to experiment with new ways of living. We also need to recognize that none of us sees the whole picture. Perhaps the Third Attractor will emerge through the relationships between these different approaches, through our willingness to learn from each other and to remain open to possibilities that none of us could have imagined alone.
And perhaps its deepest foundation will be a transformation in how we experience ourselves and our relationship to life. If the Third Attractor is truly an attractor, then it must become something people genuinely want to move towards. It needs to offer more than a response to crisis, more than a critique of what is wrong, and more than a promise of survival. It needs to awaken our imagination, our intelligence, our care for each other, and our willingness to participate in something larger than ourselves.
I believe that possibility is already beginning to take shape, in the conversations we are having, in the experiments taking place around the world, and in the growing recognition that we are responsible for the future we are creating together. We may not know what this future will look like, and perhaps we should resist the temptation to define it too precisely. But we can begin to recognize its direction, become sensitive to its emerging possibilities, and take responsibility for our participation.
The future is not yet written. And we are part of what is writing it.
