Creating an ecosystem

Why I’m More Interested in Ecosystems Than Movements

I’ve never really liked the word movement.

It’s not a bad word in itself. Movements have changed the world, and they still matter. But for me, the word often comes carrying a lot of extra weight. It tends to get tied to growth, numbers, reach, and momentum. It can quietly push us towards asking how big something is getting, rather than how well it is being held.

What I find myself more drawn to is a different image altogether. Not a movement, but an ecosystem.

Over time, that way of thinking has shaped the Hazelnut Network far more than any strategy document ever could.

1. In ecosystems, growth looks different

One of the things that puts me off movement language is how quickly growth gets reduced to a single direction. Bigger. Louder. More visible.

Ecosystems don’t grow like that. They grow unevenly. One part thrives while another rests. Some things die back so others can take root. Health shows up in many forms, often quietly.

When I look at communities in the Hazelnut Network, I don’t just see numbers going up or down. I see confidence returning to leaders who were close to burning out. I see relationships deepening. I see people paying attention to land, food, faith, and place in new ways. I see small, local experiments that may never scale, but matter deeply where they are.

That kind of growth is easy to miss if you’re only looking for movement-style momentum.

2. Ecosystems are about conditions, not control

Movements often need direction, clarity, and a sense of ownership to keep things moving forward. That can be useful. But it can also create pressure to control outcomes.

Ecosystems work differently. You can’t force them into shape. You can only tend the conditions that allow life to flourish, and then pay attention to what happens next.

That has been one of the guiding instincts of the Hazelnut Network. Rather than telling communities what they should build or become, we try to focus on shared language, rhythms, encouragement, learning, and connection. We try to make space. We try to listen. We try to notice what is already emerging.

The work that grows out of that belongs to the community, not to us.

3. Things keep growing even when you step back

Another reason I lean towards ecosystem language is resilience.

Movements can become very dependent on energy at the centre. When funding shifts, leadership changes, or attention moves on, things can quickly falter.

Ecosystems are more forgiving. Life is distributed. If one part struggles, another may carry on. If one presence steps back, growth doesn’t automatically stop.

Some of the most encouraging moments for me in the Hazelnut Network are when something good is happening that we had very little to do with. A community trying something new on their own. A connection forming without us in the room. A practice being adapted and made local.

Those moments tell me something deeper is taking root.

4. Ecosystems don’t need you to be the hero

Movement language can easily centre leadership, visibility, and identity. There is often a sense that people need to know who is behind something for it to have value.

Ecosystems are much less interested in heroes.

In a healthy ecosystem, influence is real, but it’s shared and often indirect. No single organisation needs to be at the centre of every story. In fact, if everything points back to one name or brand, the system may already be becoming fragile.

One of our quiet hopes at the Hazelnut Network is that our influence is often hard to trace. If communities feel more confident, more connected, and more rooted without needing to credit us, that feels like success.

5. Ecosystems ask for patience

Perhaps the biggest difference for me is time.

Movements often work in bursts. Campaigns, pushes, moments of urgency. Ecosystems grow over years. They include rest as well as action. They change pace. They adapt to seasons, limits, and people’s capacity.

This kind of work can feel frustratingly slow. It doesn’t always give you neat stories to tell. But it does tend to last.

For the Hazelnut Network, this means choosing presence over pressure, relationships over reach, and long-term trust over quick wins. It means staying with communities even when things are quiet or uncertain.

Why this matters now

We’re living through a time of ecological breakdown, social fragmentation, and deep exhaustion across churches and institutions. In that context, I’m not convinced the answer is always more movements layered on top of already stretched lives.

What many communities need is space. Permission. Companionship. Time to grow in ways that fit their place and people.

They need ecosystems.

That’s the kind of work I want the Hazelnut Network to be part of. Not louder. Not bigger for its own sake. But more rooted, more connected, and more alive over the long haul.

A couple ways you can come along and join in with our ecosystem

If this way of thinking resonates, there are two places you can step into it with others.

Landscapes is a gathering for people who are tired of chasing growth for its own sake and want space to think more carefully about Creator, Creation, and Community. It’s a conference and a retreate all rolled into one. It’s a place to listen, to share stories, and to reflect together on what it means to tend healthy ecosystems in our own contexts.

https://hazelnutcommunityfarm.com/landscapes

Potting Shed, starting on 26 January, is where this thinking gets rooted over time. It’s a course for people who want to learn how to grow faith and community in ways that are grounded, sustainable, and shaped by place. Less about programmes and more about practice.

https://hazelnutcommunityfarm.com/potting-shed-course

Landscapes offers space to step back and see the wider picture.
Potting Shed offers space to slow down and learn how to tend what’s already growing.

Both are part of the same instinct. Not building a movement, but nurturing an ecosystem.

If that sounds like the kind of journey you’re on, you’d be very welcome.