“They will build a house on our cycling path,” one of my friends told me in outrage. We, the children of the village, felt betrayed by the adults for destroying one of our favourite playgrounds. In the community of my upbringing (Sieben Linden), this outrage was not repressed but listened to. Ultimately, community members recognised that if children could be affected by a decision their views should be considered. To better integrate our perspectives in decision-making processes, the plenum[1] invited representatives from the younger generations to partake in discussions of village-wide importance. The community was by no means conventional and is better described as an ecovillage, a living laboratory for modelling sustainable lifestyles. In the pursuit of finding these models, ecovillages promote a symbiotic relationship between the environment and healthy human development. In so doing, they strive to be the living embodiment of Sustainable Development (SD), which, in the language of the Brundtland Report, has the goal of promoting “harmony among human beings and between humanity and nature” (WCED, 1987).

The use of the concept of SD has proliferated in recent decades. Unfortunately, because “it continues to be misunderstood and interpreted somewhat randomly amongst individuals, organizations and governments, often in favour of [their] own agenda and interests,” SD has made little progress in creating a more harmonious world (Waas et al., 2011:1656). Discord abounds and a near endless diversity of models has emerged to conceptualise SD (Todorov and Marinova, 2009). Instead of attempting to find the ‘right one’, Waas et al. identify four central principles that underpin SD and are generally agreed on by sustainability scholars (see Table 1). The pursuit of SD should be guided by these principles of normativity, equity, integration, and dynamism.

Table 1: Fundamental principles of Sustainable Development (adapted from Waas et al., 2011:1645-7)

Unfortunately, many initiatives, from the international Kyoto Protocol (Rosen, 2015) to environmental action plans in Zimbabwe (Manjengwa, 2007), have failed to model their actions on a normative vision for the future in an integrated, equitable and dynamic fashion. As this failure is largely concerned with the challenges of steering collective actions amongst humans, new methods of governing need to be experimented with to achieve SD. To move beyond business-as-usual presents a great challenge to well-established institutions (Scheyvens, Banks and Hughes, 2016), which means that these new methods are “unlikely to emerge fortuitously in the global marketplace, but may emerge from community-based activities that create an ideological space for experimentation” (Boyer, 2015:320). My experience of growing up in an ecovillage, the ‘living laboratory’ of Sieben Linden, supports this view, as the inclusion of children in the plenum was a way of experimenting with new forms of community governance.

Boyer’s statement highlights the importance of community-based innovations in moving beyond the unsustainable trajectory of global developments. One issue, however, is that these grassroots initiatives do not always have adequate means to document and communicate the lessons they have learnt (Smith and Stirling, 2016). Through an ethnographic study of the Findhorn Foundation and Community (FFC), an ecovillage and learning centre in the north of Scotland, this research will contribute to solving this problem. The FFC has been a place of innovation and inspiration since the 1960s, and its longevity contrasts with the short life of most New Age communities (Sosis, 2000). While not without its flaws, its successes in balancing the interests of individuals with a collective vision may hold many useful lessons. To harvest these lessons, this paper will explore the following three research questions:

1. How have governance structures in the FFC evolved, and what do they currently look like?
2. How can individuals participate in collective decision-making processes?
3. What practices serve to balance the interests of the individual in a collective?

To begin, a review and analysis of the literature on related topics, from governance and participation to a sense of community and the importance of organisational structure, serves to create a literary base from which the rest of the paper will develop. Chapter 3 will explore the research methodology, alongside a description of the research site and my positionality in relation to the knowledge generated. Subsequently, two thematic chapters are dedicated to outlining and discussing the results of my ethnographic enquiry. Chapter 4 is concerned with the FFC’s organisational history up until the summer of 2018. Key topics that this chapter discusses are the recent processes initiated by the Community Change Working Group (CCWG) and the nature of participation in the FFC. While all research questions are responded to here, the first and second will be the focus. Chapter 5 is concerned with answering the third research question by exploring the role the spiritual practice of ‘attunement’ has within governance and decision-making. I conclude with an overview of the key findings and place these within the larger framing of SD.

As highlighted in the introduction it is crucial to find ways of organising concerted actions, in particular during a time when it is common to place one’s personal interests above that of the collective. This chapter will build a literary foundation for this topic to be explored in more depth, first, by discussing the topics of governance, decision-making, and participation; and second, by exploring the subjects of community, ecovillages, and spirituality. Key concepts and assumptions outlined in both these sections will be used in later chapters to theorise about the governance processes in the FFC.

Governance and collective decision-making

Governance in the field of SD tends to focus on the processes that shape the interactions between humans, and between humans and the environment they inhabit (Folke et al., 2005; Armitage, 2008; Evans, 2012). The term itself refers to “the structures and processes by which people in societies make decisions and share power”, and indicates a shift from government interventions to more diverse avenues through which societal processes are influenced (Folke et al., 2005:444). In the social sciences this shift has been referred to as the “proliferation of networks”, which alludes to the growing complexity of institutional arrangements that problematise government’s ability to steer society using its traditional top-down approach (Bevir, 2008:n.p.). This transition from governments to governance is paralleled by more experimentation with alternative ways of shaping human conduct. It is becoming increasingly clear that conventional command-and-control approaches can create a strong resistance in those who feel governed, and that more participatory ways for making decisions and sharing power can allow for more sustainable outcomes (Evans, 2012; Schoon and Cox, 2018). In reality, multiple modes of governance co-exist and shape one another in a mutually constitutive way. One such mode is adaptive governance, which is particularly useful for SD because it accepts that “knowledge of the system we deal with is always incomplete” (Holling, 1993:553). Given how unpredictable the future is, this uncertainty needs to be acknowledged within the structures of governance. Adaptive governance does this explicitly by promoting systems’ resilience, which embeds the notion that systems’ continuity does not stem from stability, but from a capacity to adapt in the face of change (Evans, 2012). Key characteristics that aid in nurturing this capacity are: a polycentric[2] structure that allows for self-organisation and context-specific interventions; networked stakeholder participation that attempts to include actors affected by a decision in the decision-making process; and feedback mechanisms that allow for an iterative and reflexive learning process (Armitage, 2005; Evans, 2012; Ostrom, 2012). This polycentric governance structure is effective in responding to local problems, as it accesses localised knowledge, and mitigates “the potential for large-scale abuse” (Frank and Shockley, 2016:73S).

Experimentation with new approaches to sharing power and making decisions has proliferated for good reasons. We cannot pin our hopes on global policies alone, and need to devise solutions that allow us to act locally while thinking globally (Geddes, 1915). The concept of ‘Dunbar’s number’, from the disciplines of evolutionary anthropology and psychology, reiterates the importance of acting on a smaller scale. It suggests cognitive limits to the number of stable and meaningful relations we can have with other people (Dunbar, 1998). More recent studies continue to support the presence of this limit (Dunbar et al., 2015), and while exact numbers vary (when considering different levels of intimacy; definitions of stability; and individual characteristics) estimates tend to range from ca. 100-300 relationships (McCarty et al., 2001). It is problematic that many decision-makers are removed from the local impact of their decisions, and for good governance we have to become better at balancing the “tensions between effectiveness, participation, and legitimacy” (Folke et al., 2005:449). How to achieve this balance remains a question, yet one topic that brings some clarity into this discussion is that of decision-making.

Decision-making can be described as a process of evaluation in which an action is either adopted, amended, or discarded (Beach, 1993). The polycentric, participatory, and reflexive characteristics of adaptive governance are well- suited for decision-making that is context-specific, inclusive, and involves an iterative learning process. While a collective involvement in many decisions is crucial, Arnstein’s ‘ladder of citizen participation’ highlights that different types of involvement can vary greatly in efficacy (1969). She proposes that various forms of participation can be ranked from manipulation to citizen control (see Figure 1).

Figure 1: Arnstein’s Ladder of Citizen Participation (Arnstein, 1969)

However, her approach has been critiqued for implying that if we fall short of citizen control “automatic failure or delegitimisation” ensues (Collins and Ison, 2009:361). Additionally, the complexity of governance decisions often requires “different levels and different types of participation” (Ibid.), and thus the linear hierarchy Arnstein suggests is unable to accurately portray the unique characteristics of different participatory processes. The emergent and dynamic nature of participation needs to be recognised, alongside the fact that not all people want to be involved at all times (Tritter and McCallum, 2006). While Arnstein’s ladder may be outdated, the notion that “participation without redistribution of power is an empty and frustrating process for the powerless” remains relevant (Arnstein, 1969:216), as power elites can otherwise further entrench social inequities (Leventon et al., 2014). Experimentation with new forms of governance is therefore needed in the search for structures that can facilitate effective participation. To better understand these participatory processes, it seems that we have to move beyond Arnstein’s ladder. Tritter and McCallum’s analogy of participation as a mosaic does just that, by portraying the intricate and transitional relationships between participants, and displaying both horizontal and vertical connections (Tritter and McCallum, 2006). Indeed, when creating a mosaic “tiles of different colours and shapes are essential”, alongside a process of integration that can structure this diversity (Ibid.:165). To map the complexity of governance, and the decision-making processes within it, this analogy will be used.

With a collective of entities come varied and often conflicting perspectives. How to manage this diversity while minimising conflict and safeguarding legitimacy presents a monumental challenge in decision-making processes. The most common manifestations of how decisions are made are democracy, autocracy and consensus (Eckstein, 2016). In the literature on ecovillages it is clear that a one- size-fits-all approach does not exist (Metcalf, 1993; Renz, 2006). However, a common theme does emerge, namely, the importance of being responsive and legitimate. In order to be in alignment with their purpose many communities have to act quickly to access new opportunities in a complex and ever-changing world (Forster and Wilhelmus, 2005). To remain legitimate, most ecovillages use modified forms of participative democracy, which often manifests as consensus decision-making (Sullivan, 2016). For some small communities this allows for effective participation, as decisions can be made quickly and with the support of everyone (Mychajluk, 2017). For many larger communities achieving consensus has become a rather slow and frustrating experience (Kanaley, 2000). The FFC is one of these communities, and consequently it has had to devise and implement new ways of making decisions and distributing power. Past research has examined some of these shifts in governance, but as the FFC is characterised by change and with the most recent study published in 2005 (Metcalf, 1993; Dinnie, 2003; Forster and Wilhelmus, 2005), this thesis hopes to update the literature, and reflect more explicitly on individuals’ participation in collective decision- making processes.

Ecovillages, the FFC, and spirituality

This section will delineate the potential role communities, ecovillages, and the nurturing of a “sense of community” (McMillan and Chavis, 1986), could play in SD. This section also looks at the importance of having structure in a community, and the role of spiritual beliefs in creating cohesive bonds.

Communities, “the human webs that provide essential feelings of connectedness, belonging, and meaning”, lie at the very core of our existence (Christensen and Levinson, 2003:xxxi). The concept of a sense of community, as first proposed by McMillan and Chavis in the field of psychology, originates from four key factors that have been revised by McMillan to add simplicity and depth. In brief, they are Spirit, Trust, Trade, and Art (see Table 2).

Table 2: Key factors of a sense of community (adapted from McMillan, 1996)

These factors all mutually reinforce one another, to the point where some cannot exist without another. For example, Trade cannot emerge without the existence of Spirit and Trust. The presence of all four is important to maintain a healthy and vibrant group, as one’s sense of community is directly related to feelings of belonging, meaning, and a community’s cohesion (McMillan and Chavis, 1986). While being part of different communities is a defining factors of human existence, their collective nature has clashed in recent decades with the rise of individualism (Triandis, 2015). Individualism creates challenges for SD, as personal desires and goals are prioritised over that of the collective. In ecovillages this clash is lived explicitly, and different structures, mechanisms and tools have been devised to balance individualist and collectivist tendencies.Ecovillages are local and human-scale projects with the purpose of being environmentally conscious and “supportive of healthy human development” for the indefinite future (Gilman, 1991:10). They have also been described as ‘living laboratories’ that experiment with ways to nurture a symbiotic relationship between humans and the environment they inhabit (Ergas, 2010). This can be labelled as a ‘green niche’, which can emerge in direct opposition to the complex configurations of “entrenched cognitive, social, economic, institutional and technological processes”, in short socio-technical regimes, that have locked us into unsustainable trajectories (Seyfang and Smith, 2007:588). In this way they create spaces in which innovative solutions can be devised to support a global shift towards more sustainable living. An important part of these learning communities is their attempt to merge their philosophy of symbiotic co-existence of society and environment, with the aspiration to inspire others and spread their innovations (Blažek, 2016; Daly, 2017; Mychajluk, 2017). With this ideological intention comes the challenge of manifesting that purpose into reality. Indeed, the endeavour to create a shared way of life in an era of individual autonomy has proved insurmountable for the majority of New Age communities (Dinnie, 2003). Most of these initiatives have failed, and although a shared history might still be present, the spirit that initially sparked their sense of community has frequently been quenched. Predominantly this has been caused by frictions mounting between individuals, and financial instability (Christian, 2003). As the focus of this study lies with how human conduct is shaped through governance structures, I will explore two key factors which previous research has identified as alleviating frictions within communities. The first is concerned with the importance of avoiding ‘structurelessness’, and the second with the role of a shared ideology in stabilising a community. The latter will be discussed only in brief, because it is explored in more depth in a later chapter.

When nurturing a sense of community, the element of trust explicitly refers to the importance of having structures that can act through legitimate authority. In any community there is always a structure in place, the difference is that some structures are more explicit than others. In a study of the feminist movement it was shown that ‘structurelessness’, the lack of any formal structures, “becomes a way of masking power” (Freeman, 1972:n.p.). It risks the creation of a power elite, for which some ecovillages have already been criticised by academics who witnessed the emergence of informal hierarchies and associated power inequalities (Sullivan, 2016; Esteves, 2017). Structurelessness also hinders the search for a defined purpose, thereby resulting in political impotence and a lack of organisational direction. Thus, partaking in a deliberate structuring process is central in allowing ecovillages to achieve their goals and consequently their purpose of promoting local solutions for global problems. Additionally, a legitimate structure has clearly defined channels through which individuals can participate, thereby challenging the formation of a power elite. If a structure has been collectively agreed upon, it can act as a social glue by creating a shared understanding of the governing processes in a community.

Another factor that contributes to a community’s cohesion has been identified in the field of Anthropology. A broad analysis comparing the success of secular and religious utopian communities, found a close link between a shared ideology and a group’s level of trust and commitment (Sosis, 2000). Having a strong shared ideology increases a community’s ability “to overcome problems of collective action” and ultimately to stand the test of time (Ibid.:72). This is especially facilitated by daily rituals, as these create a shared identity and encourage long- term commitment (Ibid.). More specifically, spiritual and religious texts can delineate a clear purpose that invites community members to “subsume personal dislikes for the sake of the larger goals” (Freeman, 1972:n.p.). Based on the literature it is clear that a strong ideological foundation is key for the longevity of a utopian community in an age of individualism. The normativity principle of SD further promotes the creation of a strong ideological foundation to allow for more effective collective actions. As outlined by Sosis, Religion and spirituality are sources for such a foundation (2000). Amongst ecovillages at large, the desire to live in harmony with nature and people, is another such source.

Where to now?

Humans have always been social beings, yet how we relate, and under which structures we interact, has changed drastically over the course of history. Recently, the rise of individualism and the ‘proliferation of networks’ has invited experimentation with new modes of governance. As ecovillage are sources for innovation, the FFC may offer an informative case study for balancing the interests of individuals with a collective vision. The concepts outlined in this literature review, from polycentricity and resilience to a sense of community and the mosaic of participation, will serve as heuristic devices throughout the remainder of this dissertation.

My worldview shapes my reality and identity. When conducting research, the deeply embedded assumptions and beliefs I have about reality influence the collection and analysis of my data (Darlaston-Jones, 2007). If I were to believe that reality consists of objective truths instead of subjective experience, for example, it would allow for the creation of “unequivocal criteria for distinguishing scientific fact from personal opinion” (Buchanan, 1998:447). As will become apparent, this positivist approach would be unsuitable for the purposes of this study. In order for my research “to be truly meaningful” (Darlaston-Jones, 2007:19) this section will reflect on the relationship between my ontology, epistemology, and methodology. In so doing, I will outline the research context, discuss the benefits and limitations of the methods I have chosen, and reflect on my own positionality within the research process.

Understanding the ethnographic approach

While I believe both realism and relativism to be valid ontologies, they govern separate realms of existence. This research is concerned with the complex intergroup relations and emergent structures that affect decision-making processes and governance. As this is a socially constructed and ever-changing field of study, attempting to outline its reality through objective truths is a futile enterprise. Given the subjective nature of this topic, and the power dynamics that are present in governance arrangements, this research adopts a transformative worldview. This epistemology links knowledge creation to action, by proposing “that research inquiries need to be intertwined with politics and a political change agenda to confront social oppression at whatever levels it occurs” (Mertens in Creswell, 2014:9). It is important that I acknowledge the different power dynamics at play, as they could otherwise negatively impact research findings. To reduce the presence of confirmation bias, an inductive approach[3] was used to collect data and theorise on the nature of decision-making in the FFC. Regarding the methodology of the research, the ethnographic approach has been chosen for a number of reasons. First, the intricate social and spiritual elements that are present in the FFC are best understood by “taking the view of the other” (Becker, 1996:58). This methodology allows for a process of knowledge co-production that takes the views of others seriously while maintaining my position as an observer. Second, it allows for situational observations and secondary data to be included, and thus for a richer analysis that goes beyond the information obtained through interviews (Gray, 2013). Lastly, as I have conducted ethnographic research in the past this project gave me the opportunity to develop already existing skills. One of the key issues with this approach is that findings cannot be generalised, and frequently the “reliability of ethnographic descriptions” is questioned (Brewer, 1994:233). I maintain that through a systematic enquiry and reflexive examination, the knowledge created through this method can go beyond being purely relative. While it is socio- culturally specific, it can expand our understanding of how communities can make decisions, and potentially inform and inspire further experimentation elsewhere. As mentioned above, I use an inductive approach to analyse my data, which is supplemented by a narrative inquiry. This means that I analyse the stories people tell and use other artefacts such as official documents and maps to discover a narrative (Clandinin and Caine, 2008). The writing style in my thematic chapters mirrors this approach, as it reads in sections like a narrative would. By analysing data in such a fashion it is challenging to reference interviewees while maintaining their anonymity. Many of them experienced different phases of the FFC and have held very specific roles, thereby making them easily identifiable by other community members. Consequently, I have chosen only to reference them by their pseudonym when making use of a direct quote.

Research Context and Sample Characteristics

The proposal and associated ethical approval for this study was accepted in the summer of 2018. I conducted the research over the course of three months that same season, while living in the village of Findhorn (Scotland), a short walk away from the FFC. At present this community is comprised of a great number of different organisations and spread over a number of different locations[4]. For the purposes of this research, however, only The Park will be looked at. This is because most FFC members live there; the Findhorn Foundation is located there; and it would have been inconvenient to travel to other locations. While exact numbers do not exist, as many who identify as part of the FFC are not paid up members, it is believed to have 400-500 members. More details about the FFC will be given in the chapter entitled Attunement: how silence serves action.

I had nine participants with whom I did face-to-face interviews, mostly in my own home, but also in public spaces, and one participant’s office. Participants were found by posting a notice in the community newsletter, and by directly contacting a number of individuals that held, or had held, important positions within the community. I interviewed 6 females and 3 males, which is almost representative of the FFC’s demographic according to a recent internal study that identified 62.4% as female, and 36.7% as male (CCWG, 2016b). As intended, I was able to find a balance of long-standing members (>5 years, 6 participants) and newcomers (1-4 years, 3 participants). This demographic was desired, as I wanted to assess the role of seniority in relation to levels of participation and their perception of collective decision-making processes. While all participants were guided by the same questions, the semi-structured nature of the interviews resulted in varied durations, from ½ to 1½ hours. I also attended one of the New Findhorn Association (NFA) council meetings, to obtain situational observations. While I had hoped to create a focus group, the large quantity of data I had already collected was sufficient for this study. Secondary data, such as the CCWG ‘Findhorn Community Survey’ (2016) and other CCWG documents, is also used to complement my findings. Each participant’s name has been coded, to maintain their anonymity, but they have been informed that other community members might be able to identify them by their statements. It should be noted that, inevitably, each interview candidate presents their interpretation of their experience of the FFC, in relation to the topic of decision-making, and not the views of the whole community.

Positionality

“The answers you get depend upon the questions you ask” (Kuhn, no date). This applies to all types of research, yet for ethnography the influence of the researcher on the data is higher than in more quantitative approaches. This is due to the deep immersion of the researcher in a given socio-cultural setting and the high level of interaction that is needed to discover meaning using the ethnographic approach. As I have grown up in ecovillages, the demand for a “conscious awareness of the situatedness of [my] knowledge” is particularly important (Katz in Rose, 1997:309). In my experience many people oscillate between being too forgiving or overly critical of people and things close to them. For example, having witnessed conflicts in different ecovillages I am more critical in my evaluation of the success of such communities. However, to take the analogy of ecovillages as living laboratories one step further, constructive criticism and appropriate praise have their place in improving any experiment. As I have not lived in the FFC for over 5 years, I believe that I found a good balance between criticism and praise. I cannot negate the presence of unconscious cognitive biases but by consistently and transparently reflecting on my relationship to the material I will keep them to a minimum.

The emergent process of decision-making

“As Eileen [one of the community’s founders] always said:
‘The only constant of this place is change’.” – Olivia

Amongst the participants I interviewed, the notion of change being a defining feature of the FFC was a widespread belief. How does an ever-changing and fluid community maintain cohesion and a sense of community? This chapter will explore how this challenge is being tackled by describing and discussing the key features of decision-making processes in the FFC. To begin, my first research question, which asks how the governance structures in the FFC have developed, will be addressed in a historical analysis. Moving up to the present day the emergent and adaptive characteristics of governance in this community are discussed. This information will be sourced from both the interviews I conducted, and from publications that have detailed the FFC’s past. Two key strands develop from this overview, both of which will be addressed in separate sections and largely address my research question on how individuals can participate in collective decision-making processes. The first strand is concerned with the creation of a more cohesive and adaptive community through the use of Sociocracy and the creation of an overarching representative body, the Enquiry Circle. The second will look at participation and highlight the issue of participation fatigue. The final section of this chapter will intertwine different concepts and theories, such as Arnstein’s ‘Ladder of Citizen Participation’, with my own research. I have to acknowledge that my findings are likely to be challenged by some members of the FFC, as I am theorising about an intricate, sensitive, and subjective topic. However, as a living laboratory the FFC invites constructive critiques, as this allows for more effective and legitimate governance systems to be created.

The history of an (un)intentional community:

The community finds its origins in 1962, when three adults[5] towed their caravan to a caravan park near the fishing village of Findhorn and lived an experiment in combining their humanity, divinity and nature’s intelligence into a conscious lifestyle. Many were attracted. Initially the group grew slowly, yet after having less than a dozen members for eight years, it expanded to 180 people by 1974 (Walker, 1994). Until the early 1970s major decisions were made by the community’s founders, and implemented under the charismatic leadership of Peter Caddy (Forster and Wilhelmus, 2005). Divine guidance, often received by two of the founders[6] through meditation and communication with nature, strongly influenced these decisions. Before 1970 the focus of the community was largely on nurturing a family, people visiting, and gardening. When the number of inhabitants exploded in the early 1970s the community’s purpose shifted its focus from “growing plants to growing people” (Riddell, 1991:78). With many newcomers not being well-versed in spiritual practice, there was a perceived need for spiritual development. Lessons on the subject were taught by one of the newcomers, David Spangler, whose teachings promoted “a more individualistic and human-centred approach” than the ancient wisdom the community was founded on (Dinnie, 2003:60). The small group sessions lead by David marked a key step for the Findhorn Foundation in becoming the educational centre it is today. In regard to individualism, Eileen had received guidance that she should no longer share her guidance with the community and that it was now time for each community member to receive their own divine guidance. Around the year of 1972, when the Findhorn Foundation received charitable status as an educational trust, different autonomous departments were in charge for making day-to-day decisions but continued to be subject to Peter Caddy’s authority. During this time no formal avenues for making decisions seemed to be in place, even though the Core Group[7], and Focalisers’ Group[8] did allow more people to become involved in decision-making processes. Nonetheless, these groups were self-selected, decision-making processes were unclear, and the discussions within these groups were kept secret (Dinnie, 2003). As a charity the Foundation also had a Board of Trustees, but the Trustees were hand-picked by Peter Caddy, and almost all decisions and appointments had to be blessed by him in order to be accepted. Peter once famously told the Trustees that they were not in charge of the community, God was!

In the early 1970s, important decision-making roles previously held by Peter became the responsibility of other members, and a community newsletter began to circulate discussions and decisions from different work departments (Ibid.). Not much changed, in regard to the Foundation’s organisational structure, until 1989 when a new Core Group was elected, this time democratically and by the whole community (Riddell, 1991). Between 1989 and 1995 major community decisions were made in a forum that all members of the Foundation could attend, but decisions were required to either have unanimous agreement or consensus with a loyal minority[9]. With many newcomers, and people sometimes coming to meetings uninformed, this method for making decisions, while being very participatory and legitimate, became a slow and frustrating experience. This frustration culminated on October 31st, 1995, when the Foundation’s management team resigned en masse:

“because there were no clear decision-making procedures, there was no sense of vision and purpose, there was no data on if we were doing a good or a bad job, because we didn’t know what job we were meant to be doing!”

Table 3: Hugh on the chaos before the reinvention process

The Reinvention Process from 1995-1998 tackled the lack of coherence that had characterised decisions in the Findhorn Foundation by implementing a more traditional and hierarchical structure for the elected Management Team, clarifying job descriptions, reaffirming the vision, ethics and values of the Foundation, and devolving more power to each of the different departments. Perhaps most significantly, it created a Spiritual and Personal Development Area, and reinstituted spiritual practice and commitment at the heart of the Foundation’s activities.

Additionally, the community forum was replaced with a Community Council. Any Foundation co-worker (a denomination that replaced the term ‘member’) could join this Council, as long as they had been part of the Foundation for at least a year; committed to coming to all meetings well informed; and would make decisions in the best interest of the next seven generations. The key role of the Council was to make strategic decisions, and thereby inform the operational decisions made by the Management Team. In 1999, due to the growing number of people who wanted to be part of the spiritual community without being co- workers of the Findhorn Foundation, the NFA[10] was set up. With the NFA in place, more professionals, social entrepreneurs and craftspeople could set up businesses and other initiatives in the Park, without being part of the Foundation itself. By being only in loose affiliation with the Foundation, these initiatives ultimately created the complex institutional arrangement of the FFC as it is today[11].

In order to understand the decision-making processes that govern the FFC we have to acknowledge that the intricacy of this web of relations arose organically, following many decades of adapting to changing circumstances (see Figure 2). The FFC is well described as an unintentional community, as how it has unfolded into its current state was not envisioned by its founders. Finding “unity in diversity”, which is one of the FFC’s mantras, has been hindered by the lack of a coherent structure and purpose to steer the conduct of organisations in this web. From the Foundation, to the NFA, to the Titleholders Association, each can act independently of one another. This exemplifies the proliferation of networks that has marked contemporary modes of governance. With the constant emergence of new networks, experimentation has become more widespread, and as a green niche the FFC has attempted to implement innovative solutions to improve the coherence of interorganisational cooperation. It started in 2012 with the formalisation of the Common Ground12, which had previously existed in different version across the community. Again, a testament to the organic growth of the FFC, as the first version of the Common Ground was created informally by Courtney Young in the early 1990s. It then circulated and was interpreted differently by different people before entering its current, formalised state. Moving on, the CCWG was set-up in 2016 to design and facilitate the implementation of a new governance structure, as many in the community felt frustrated and disempowered by existing avenues for participation. What emerged out of this working group will be explored next.

Figure 2: Timeline of the FFC’s organisational history

Rule by the socios

Sociocracy is a relatively new phenomenon. The root of the word means ‘rule by the socios’, or rule by the people in social relationship with one another (Buck, 2014). It emerged in the 1970s out of a need for management structures that could enable self-organisation (Eckstein, 2016). Some key elements of this approach are circles, double-links, consent decision-making, and feedback loops (see Table 4).

Table 4: Key elements of Sociocracy

Other ecovillages and communities have already experienced great successes with Sociocracy (Rios, 2008; Aristizabal, 2015; Christian, 2016), and experimentation with this organisational model has also been taking place in the FFC. One proposal for the implementation of a management structure modelled on Sociocracy came through the CCWG. In an attempt to formalise the interactions between the major organisations in the FFC the CCWG suggested the creation of “a new configuration of interlinked circles in the community, and an associated restructuring of flows of information, resources and decision- making” (Napier et al., 2017). While the structure suggested by the CCWG did not come to its full fruition, a representational body called the Enquiry Circle was created to take the place of the Coordination Circle (see Figure 3).

Figure 3: Diagram of proposed Coordination Circle and circles connected to it (Napier et al., 2017:3)

In the past the vagueness surrounding the FFC’s purpose had resulted in some organisations “following their own particular interests without that sense of how it fits with the whole” (Oliver). There was a hope that the major organisations in the FFC could now “achieve more by working together”, and devise ways for maintaining a sense of cohesion as the community grows bigger (Sophie). While the Common Ground had strengthened the FFC’s ideological foundation, a purpose was still missing. Consequently, one of the first priorities of this representational body was to define a collective purpose. It achieved this through a game played by 120 community members over the course of three days. Hence, conceiving the FFC’s purpose “was a very inclusive process” (Olivia). Notably, the statement will remain a draft for at least a year after its introduction. During this time frame anyone in the community can request changes. For now, one of the practical implications of having this purpose is that, when read aloud, it can cause a remarkable shift in a meeting’s energy, as “people become aware that they stand on a common ground” (Olivia)[13].

Three themes emerge from this account of the CCWG and its impact. First, the formalisation of a purpose strengthened the FFC’s ideological foundation, and enabled individuals within the community to act in more alignment with the collective. One of the goals of the Enquiry Circle, to enhance community cohesion, is thus starting to be fulfilled. Second, adding a timestamp to the community purpose statement alongside the Sociocratic double-links in the Enquiry Circle exemplifies the integration of feedback loops within the FFC’s governance structure. Amongst interviewees this willingness to review and adapt proposals from the past is believed to have played a significant role in allowing the community to succeed in ever-changing circumstances, so while this review and adaptation process is not new it is now reaffirmed and formalised in a sociocratic process. Third, two avenues for participating in decision-making processes were created by the CCWG. The first is the use of a Community Game to elicit participation and draft the community purpose. Second, the main organisations in the FFC now had a formalised platform to discuss community- wide issues, thereby avoiding the pitfalls of structurelessness. In short, the resilience of the FFC has been nurtured by a stronger ideological foundation, the integration of feedback loops, and the presence of participatory decision-making processes.

Participation and fatigue

A recent community-wide survey asked: “What would make it easier for you to engage more actively in the community?” The most commonly chosen answer was: “If I had more time” (CCWG, 2016a). Participation in decision-making processes takes time and energy, which is precisely what many people do not have in their day-to-day life. This section will explore this issue, alongside a discussion on the link between community seniority and levels of participation.

The FFC is no exception in regard to participation fatigue, and many of my interviewees reiterated that to avoid exhaustion they had to find a balance between being involved and having time for themselves. For example, Oliver voiced that he would only attend meetings if they were going to achieve something, to avoid the “talking shop” scenario[14]. When asking about people’s reasons for nonparticipation, responses were influenced by community seniority. For long-standing members, some had grown fatigued from past participation and “started to have more scepticism and cynicism about the capacity of this community to change” (Hugh). For many it was due to being overworked, though Grace, a newcomer, said that she “trusts the process” and prefers not to be involved. Notably, she also voiced that even amongst long-standing community members some seemed to “have no idea who really makes the decisions and how”. Grace appeared to speak for many in trusting a decision-making process surrounded by obscurity. The complexity of the FFC’s institutional arrangements with different organisations wielding power in different domains, makes it difficult to grasp its governance. This is compounded by its emergent and transformative characteristics. However, another newcomer had made a habit of attending as many community meetings as possible and became the Listener Convener after only one and a half years of being in the community. Although the different avenues for participation might be obscure, they can be navigated if an active effort is made. Unfortunately, the amount of time this involves makes it unfeasible for most people in the FFC.

One of the reasons why the FFC has remained cohesive despite this obscurity, is that there are many avenues through which people can feel listened to. The NFA Listener Conveners exemplify this, as it is their responsibility to listen to the feelings, opinions, and concerns of community members, and then respond to what they hear (see Table 5).

Table 5: The Listener Conveners and Mental Health

The types of participation that people in the FFC can engage in are diverse, from conversing with a Listener Convener, to attending a variety of community meetings, to being active in work department dialogues, to partaking in the Community Game. Overall, the level of participation of my respondents did not depend on how long they had lived in the community. Instead, their individual desire and past management experience were more accurate predictors of involvement.

Contextualising Emergence

With change being one of the few constants in the FFC, governance structures have had to adapt regularly. From Peter Caddy’s charismatic leadership to more conventional hierarchies of power, the unpredictable evolution of the FFC has given rise to a complex organism. In polycentric fashion, many independent decision-making centres are at present in charge of different domains. The issue in the FFC has been the lack of effective cooperation between these organisations, which was tackled in the recent drafting of a community purpose. This, however, is only the first step in a long process of experimentation. The ongoing, emergent, and adaptive characteristics of governance in the FFC have played a central role in the community’s survival. While conventional management structures are present in some FFC organisations, these are supplemented by a wide array of elaborate and participatory ways of making community-wide decisions. Deciding on the general themes of the community purpose through a game, for example, shows that novel ways of engaging with community affairs are in place for individuals. However, for some community members constant change has become tiring. According to Robert, only 30-40 people show up for community meetings, less than 10% of the FFC. These meetings give community members the opportunity to influence decisions, but with such low turn-outs they risk losing legitimacy. Participation fatigue, alongside cynicism that it’s all a ‘done deal’ anyway, is likely to be a major reason for this lack of attendance. With growing complexity the system becomes more difficult to understand and navigate (Kern and Hooghe, 2018). It follows that creating more ways for participation does not correlate to a growing involvement by community members, although for people well-versed in the system it creates more opportunities to influence community affairs. What seems more important in working towards collective goals, as shown by the Reinvention Process and the Enquiry Circle, is the simplification and clarification of governance structures and processes. To describe participation as a linear hierarchy, as Arnstein’s Ladder does, is challenged by my findings (Arnstein, 1969). While vertical participation links are present in the FFC through channels such as the NFA Listener Conveners, initiatives like the Enquiry Circle create horizontal links between different organisations. Further, few people want to be constantly involved as other responsibilities, time constraints and participation fatigue limits their desire and ability to do so. We have to acknowledge the intricate and transitional attributes that complicate a linear conception of participation. The analogy of a mosaic can portray this complexity more accurately by recognising vertical and horizontal links between different actor-tiles (Tritter and McCallum, 2006). Additionally, in this analogy the different colours and shapes of tiles are understood to be an asset. Not all people will participate in the same way, and to an extent this can make the mosaic more colourful and aesthetically pleasing. However, it will remain pure chaos unless a process of integration exists to structure this diversity of actor-tiles. Different undertakings in the FFC, such as the Enquiry Circle and the defining of a community purpose, are helping to create a more coherent picture of its complex network of organisations and individuals (see Figure 4).

Figure 4: Conceptualising the FFC’s organisational arrangement as a mosaic

The larger boxes denote larger organisations, whereas small yellow boxes refer to individuals. The Community Purpose and Common Ground contribute to a process of actor-tile integration, by creating a frame around all actors in the FFC. Arrows refer to links between organisations and individuals, and account for both vertical and horizontal types of participation. Different shades of yellow signify differences amongst individuals. Some can be seen to be very active (darker yellow), whereas others prefer not to participate and are only influenced by the decisions made in larger organisations (lighter yellow). This figure only serves to explain how participation can be understood using the mosaic analogy, and does not represent the reality in the FFC accurately.

This seemingly endless process is facilitated by a governance structure that is inspired by Sociocracy, and by the possibility for people to make their views heard through channels such as the NFA Listener Conveners. By embedding feedback loops into its governance structure and by experimenting with creative ways of including members in decision-making processes, the FFC is truly a living laboratory. The wicked nature of sustainability problems[15] and the uncertain future they bring about highlight the importance of creating structures that enable adaptation and self-organisation to ensure communities’ resilience (Armitage, 2005; Folke et al., 2005). As a green niche the FFC, is actively seeking to find such structures and while contextually specific, its practices could help other communities to release their adaptive capacity more.

“We are a collective of individuals”, expresses Olivia, in this way reiterating the ethos of individual autonomy in contemporary culture. In an endeavour to better balance the interests of these individuals with that of the collective, the formalisation of the FFC’s community purpose and creation of the Enquiry Circle has played an important role. But these have not existed for long, which raises the question: what else has unified the FFC? Some authors have suggested that spiritual solidarity has played a major role (Metcalf, 1993; Walker, 1994). Others have suggested the flexibility of spiritual beliefs to have been imperative for its success (Dinnie, 2003). One thing is certain, the importance of spirituality is, alongside change, one of the few constants in the FFC. From the very beginning the founders, especially Eileen and Dorothy, received spiritual guidance to solve practical challenges they faced and to outline a path for the future. To this day, the spiritual dimension plays an absolutely central role in informing community members’ everyday life (Forster and Wilhelmus, 2005). This is exemplified in the first guideline of the ‘Common Ground’, which states that community members should “have an active spiritual practice to align with spirit and support [them] to work for the highest good” (see appendices). Consequently, spirituality needs to be considered as an important factor in the governance of Findhorn. This chapter seeks to delve deeper into the role of one spiritual practice in particular: attunement. In so doing, it will elaborate on Sosis’ findings that shared rituals raise commitment and trust in New Age communities (2000). To begin, what attunement is and how it manifests in practice is discussed. And to conclude, it will be linked with the notion of an ‘integrative spirituality’, McMillan and Chavis’ concept of a sense of community, and the role of inner silence in decision- making processes. This chapter addresses my third research question, by outlining a practice that serves to balance the interests of the individual in a collective.

A flexible practice for personal connections to spirit

“Oh, I will have to attune to that and get back to you,” is a phrase one commonly hears when living in Findhorn (Grace). Attunement is a form of inner listening that is practised in the FFC to gain clarity and guidance from the ‘divine within’. It is used in both personal and group matters and can also play a role “as part of decision-making” (Robert). This practice frequently manifests in work shifts, meetings and meditations and tends to involve all those who are present in closing their eyes while connecting to the “source, spirit, God, the divine” (Hugh). A prominent belief in Findhorn is that if one lives in alignment with the omniscient, inner knowing one accesses through attunement, decision-making can be eased through the stillness and clarity it provides. It is a means of moving beyond the ego and personal preferences, desires and beliefs to allow what ‘wants to happen’ to emerge. This ritual has been described in vague terms because it is not performed in one way. It is not something taught to all new community members in a formalised fashion. Instead, it is usually learnt by observing others and interpreting what one witnesses to fit one’s own beliefs and worldview. Grace is just “mimicking what [she has] seen” for the time being, though she is eager to learn more about attunement. I would suggest that the vagueness of attunement is an asset, as it allows for all people with different religious and spiritual beliefs to experience a shared ritual. Robert, who was brought up as a Christian Protestant, became an atheist, and then practised Buddhism, said that he often attunes during walking meditations when a specific decision is difficult to make:

“I’ll come to a place of clarity, usually I’ll come to a place where I feel: ‘Yeah, that’s it.’ And it is just a feeling, really, it is just trying to […] create an open space of non-judgement and not being in my mind. Just be open to life, open to deeper impulse.”
Table 6: Robert on attunement 1

While Robert receives clear guidance at times, attunement is not infallible. He has experienced some instances in which it did not clarify confusion, and consequently arrived at the conclusion that the insights received during attunement should only be understood as information. Many would say it can be very hard to differentiate the still, small voice of the divine from the most stubborn and persistent personality preferences. This conclusion has significant implications when it comes to governance. Perceiving attunement as information that is factored into decisions, rather than divine truth, could serve a useful role when it comes to decision-making. In the words of Robert:

“I don’t think God [tells you the one right way]. From what I understand God is more just wanting to support us and might give us very useful information. So, we see things in a more holistic way, so we see the bigger picture. But it should only be taken as information, not as dogma. Not: ‘I’ve got the right answer, here,’ and, ‘You need to listen to me because my guidance is correct’.”
Table 7: Robert on attunement 2

Otherwise, if two individuals attune to the same topic, receive different guidance and follow it without question, it would undoubtedly create conflict. However, if both understand that the information they are receiving is part of a larger pool, then these differences could be negotiated in order to find the most effective solution.

This brings us to another important role which attunement can play: the calming of conflict. When discussions get heated during a meeting, practising attunement can offer the silence needed to allow the conflict to cool down. Anna recounted that she experienced “absolutely gobsmacking” instances of people changing their previously vehemently defended views after attuning. Be it to gain personal guidance, inform clarity for collective decisions, or bring calmness into a heated discussion, for the FFC “attunement is completely integral to all the levels of what we do” (Layla).

Performing collective rituals

Sosis’ study on New Age communities identified that an ideological foundation increases their capacity “to overcome problems of collective action” (2000:72). His research, however, focused on religious rather than spiritual communities, and the conflation of these two concepts needs to be avoided. The most commonly identified marker of difference is that religion is more centrally organised and traditional, whereas spirituality tends to refer to the personal relationship of an individual to a higher power or consciousness, and “can exist within or independent of a religious context” (Schlehofer, Omoto and Adelman, 2008:413). The individualistic nature of spirituality is validated in the FFC, as the three core principles that guide action according to the Common Ground: deep inner listening, co-creation with nature, and work is love in action, “are individual ways of relating to reality” (Olivia). The flexibility and lack of institutionalisation that tends to be present in spiritual practices undermines the emergence of a formalised, shared belief system (Dinnie, 2003). A recent study on religious practices in Hungarian ecovillages sheds more light on how this challenge may be overcome. It found that community members follow a form of ‘integrative spirituality’ (Farkas, 2018), which refers to the unification of different religious rituals, and esoteric and indigenous traditions “to produce highly personalised forms of religiosity” (Bowman in Ibid.). Sosis’ insights prove relevant when he states that “the constant reinforcement of daily rituals, more common among religious communities, appears to be the most successful means of maintaining long-term commitment” (2000:82). Thus, it is the ritual that is of importance, rather than the unified religious affiliation of a community. Such shared rituals can evidently be present in communities through an integrative spirituality. This is exemplified by attunement in the FFC. While people may not align with a specific religion, the practice of inner listening is universally accepted as “part of the fabric of this place” (Layla). Each community member has their own spiritual and religious beliefs but connecting to spirit in shared settings through the frequently repeated ritual of attunement reinforces people’s sense of community. In this manner attunement fulfils the FFC’s mantra to find unity in diversity. When mapping this practice onto the four factors of a sense of community (see Table 2), attunement is present in both Art and Spirit.

Table 2: Key factors of a sense of community (adapted from McMillan, 1996)

First, it is present in Art by being a shared ritual that expresses a core value and principle of the FFC, deep inner listening. Second, it reinforces Spirit by nurturing people’s sense of belonging and unity.

The inner silence one attains in attunement promotes mindfulness, and the relation between mindfulness, or meditation, to decision-making processes has been explored in psychological and management studies (Ruedy and Schweitzer, 2010; Shapiro, Jazaieri and Goldin, 2012; Sun et al., 2015). Their findings all follow the same line of thought, which is succinctly summarised by Sun et al. in the statement that “meditation modulates brain activities associated with cognitive control, emotion regulation and empathy, and leads to improved non- social and social decision making” (2015:1). The use of attunement in the FFC to calm heated discussions supports this view and reiterates the important role silence and “not being in [one’s] mind” can play when making decisions (Robert). To summarise, the impact of attunement on decision-making is two-fold. On the one hand it is a ritual that can be practised collectively while being flexible enough to accommodate the FFC’s diversity of integrative spiritualities. Thereby, it nurtures a stronger sense of community. On the other hand, this unification of spiritualities is supplemented by the positive effects of meditation on the brain. Silence and inner listening can both soothe heated discussions and cause people to act more selflessly, and in the FFC this practice has allowed highly individualised belief-systems to be unified through a collective ritual. This suggests that the potential of mindfulness practices, and more importantly shared ritual practices, to overcome problems of collective action in an age of individualism, needs to be recognised more in the pursuit of SD.

“Community can be like herding a bunch of cats.” (Lisa)

This research has shed light onto the FFC’s governance structure, a system obscured by its complexity. In particular, it has described and analysed the relationship of the individual to collective decision-making processes. The research questions I took into the field asked: (1) How have governance structures in the FFC evolved, and what do they look like currently? (2) How can individuals participate in collective decision-making processes? And (3) What practices serve to balance the interests of the individual in a collective?

To answer these questions, I began by describing the emergent nature of the FFC. This was exemplified first in the history of this community, which, as it outgrew existing governance structures, had to experiment and adapt using new management styles. It is apt to describe its governance as a process of emergence, rather than a static structure. The organic and unpredictable nature of this process has meant that the FFC was only recently successful in establishing the Enquiry Circle, a representational body that brought a collection of disparate organisations into more explicit coherence. The resilience of this polycentric network was strengthened by the formulation of a community purpose, which, alongside the Common Ground, has served in aligning the actions of individuals with a collective aspiration. This highlighted that clarity surrounding a structure and purpose is necessary to avoid the “tyranny of structurelessness” (Freeman, 1972:n.p.). Further, the systematic integration of feedback loops has contributed to the FFC’s survival and its desire to make all voices heard. However, obscurity surrounding decision-making processes remains, and the many changes alongside time and energy constraints have resulted in many community members growing fatigued from participation. By recognising the complexity of this organisational arrangement and the multiplicity of channels for getting involved, I moved beyond Arnstein’s (1969) ‘Ladder of Participation’. Instead, I adopted and elaborated on McCallum and Tritter’s (2006) ‘mosaic of participation’, which transcends Arnstein’s linear conception of the subject. Aside of recognising both vertical and horizontal links, in addition to the diverse manifestations of participation and types of participants, we also need to realise that without a process of integration, like the creation of a common purpose, this diversity is likely to result in chaos.

By examining spirituality and attunement another process of integration was identified and helped answer my third research question. Namely, participating in a shared ritual gave individuals a common practice that unified a diversity of integrative spiritualities. This supported Sosis’ (2000) research on New Age communities by recognising that even in groups where everyone has highly individualised belief-systems, communal rituals can encourage the long-term commitment of group members. By nurturing a stronger sense of community attunement eased the challenges of collective action in the FFC. When making decisions, attunement can also play an important role by inducing a meditative state, consequently inviting reflection on one’s personal interests, access to higher consciousness and often softening conflicts.

My findings should be understood, like governance in the FFC, as part of an emergent, iterative process of learning. All the themes I explored could benefit from being studied in more depth, and future research could usefully focus on the processes of conflict resolution or influences of external bureaucracies on experimentation in the FFC. Nonetheless, this research has made a valuable contribution to the study of community governance as it updated the literature on the FFC’s history, conceptualised participation in a new light, acknowledged the importance of a clear structure and purpose for governance and decision- making processes, and analysed the significant role attunement plays within these processes. In line with the transformative approach I will present this research to members of the FFC, with the hope that my contributions will inform future experimentation in this living laboratory. The immense complexity of the FFC and observed challenges for participation are reflected in many other intentional communities, and mirrors global issues of cooperation. While having been brought up in ecovillages has not veiled these imperfections to me, I felt empowered to participate from a young age. In an age of populism and large- scale abuses of political power we still have a long way to go before achieving SD, but places like the FFC can be seen as seeds of hope because they actively experiment to ensure legitimate and participatory governance.

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The Common Ground

Screenshot of the FFC’s organisational map

The Community Purpose Statement

Map of the Park

Map of The Park – Source: https://naturalbuild.files.wordpress.com/2013/07/findhorn-map.jpg

Table 1: Fundamental principles of Sustainable Development (adapted from Waas et al., 2011:1645-7) – in Introduction

Table 2: Key factors of a sense of community (adapted from McMillan, 1996) – in Analysis of Existing Literature

Table 3: Hugh on the chaos before the reinvention process – in The emergent process of decision-making

Table 4: Key elements of Sociocracy – in The emergent process of decision-making

Table 5: The Listener Conveners and Mental Health – in The emergent process of decision-making

Table 6: Robert on attunement – in Attunement: how silence serves action

Table 7: Robert on attunement – in Attunement: how silence serves action

Figure 1: Arnstein’s Ladder of Citizen Participation (Arnstein, 1969) – in Analysis of Existing Literature

Figure 2: Timeline of the FFC’s organisational history – in The emergent process of decision-making

Figure 3: Diagram of proposed Coordination Circle and circles connected to it (Napier et al., 2017:3) – in The emergent process of decision-making

Figure 4: Conceptualising the FFC’s organisational arrangement as a mosaic – in The emergent process of decision-making

Submitted as an integral part of the MA Single Honours Degree in Sustainable Development, University of St Andrews, May 2019. Supervised by Dr Rehema White School of Geography and Sustainable Development University of St Andrews.

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I declare that this dissertation is 9966 words in length, excluding appendices, bibliography and figures.

I declare that the School of Geography and Sustainable Development informed me of, and that I have agreed to abide by, the Ethics, Risk Assessment, and Local Health and Safety rules, codes and procedures associated with this part of my degree; that I have completed and signed the relevant Ethics Self- Assessment and Risk Assessment forms and that I have obtained appropriate Ethics Approval for this project.

I certify that I have read the University’s policy on Academic Misconduct; that the following work is my own work; and that significant academic debts and borrowings have been properly acknowledged and referenced.

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Thank you to everyone who supported and helped me throughout the different stages of this dissertation, my largest research project to date. The first and largest thanks will have to go to my parents (all four of them) for raising me in a setting that inspired me to study Sustainable Development. Their mentorship, and the freedom and responsibility they gave me from a young age, have allowed me to grow passionate about this subject of my own volition. I want to thank Robin Alfred in particular for his helpful comments and deep knowledge of the Findhorn Foundation and Community.

A huge thank you also goes to Rehema White, for supporting me from beginning to end with such care and heartfelt interest. I could not have hoped for a better supervisor for this project.

My penultimate thanks goes to the Findhorn College, and in particular Melissa Godbeer, for helping me find the right research participants. I am very grateful that the College was willing to support my research project at no cost, and hope that this research will feed back into its knowledge base.

Finally, thank you to all the research participants. Most of you I had never met before, but getting to know you through the stories you shared with me was one of the most fulfilling aspects of conducting this research.