Feature photo by Howard Walsh on Unsplash

I first heard the term community dynamics during my first Holistic Management 8-day course in 2021. It landed with a quiet sense of recognition rather than surprise. I realised I had been working with community dynamics for most of my life — I just hadn’t learnt the language for it.

When I checked in with the educator about this, he gave me a literal thumbs up. That simple gesture mattered. It acknowledged that there isn’t one rigid way to understand or apply the work of Allan Savory who developed the Holistic Management framework. Community dynamics are not something you learn only in a course. It is something you live, observe, and participate in.

Learning Community Before We Had Words for It

My understanding of community started early. At primary school, we were taught something simple and enduring: give more than you get. Offer what you have, not because of what comes back, but because someone else might flourish.

That idea stayed with me.

My father understood this deeply. He came from a farming background where community was not optional — it was survival. When his mother died unexpectedly from blood poisoning after a simple cut of the finger, he was only one year old. It could have been the end of stability for a young child.

But it wasn’t.

A network formed around him. His father’s cousin stepped in. His grandfather helped. His uncle, recently returned from the World War II, carried his own wounds but still contributed what he could. Together, they created something no single person could provide: continuity of care.

This is community dynamics at its most fundamental — not idealised, not perfect, but responsive and relational.

Two Worlds of Community

My mother’s experience was different. She was raised in the city, where systems replaced relationships. Milk was delivered. Bread was delivered. The paper arrived. Coal appeared when needed.

Needs were met, but not necessarily through connection.

When she moved into a small rural community, the expectation that things would “just happen” didn’t quite hold. In those settings, community relies on participation. Reciprocity is not a concept — it is a practice, a way of life.

For her, this was not an easy transition. And in many ways, her experience reflects a broader tension we still live with today: the difference between service-based living and relationship-based living.

The Quiet Decline

Over time, I began to notice something shifting.

Communities started to thin out.

Young people left for the city — for education, for opportunity, for something more. Often, they didn’t return. If they did, it was sometimes only temporary. The knowledge they gained in the city — efficiency, systems, productivity — didn’t always translate back into the needs of the community they came from.

In the process, something subtle but important was lost.

We became very good at being efficient. But not necessarily effective.

Efficiency asks: How quickly can this be done?

Effectiveness asks: Is this the right thing to be doing, together?

Community dynamics live in the second question.

The Understory

In my adult life, particularly after moving to Western Australia, my work amid community dynamics found a clearer focus. I found myself drawn to the outliers — the people whose voices were not being heard.

The understory.

In ecology, the understory is the layer beneath the canopy. It doesn’t dominate the landscape, nonetheless it plays a critical role in the health of the whole system. It holds moisture. It protects soil. It nurtures diversity.

Without it, the system becomes fragile.

Human communities are no different.

The people who are often dismissed as “not contributing enough” are frequently the ones holding relationships together in unseen ways. They are connectors, observers, quiet supporters. Their contribution may not always be measurable from the outside, but it is deeply impactful.

When we ignore the understory, we don’t just lose individuals — we weaken the entire system.

Rethinking Contribution

One of the challenges in modern communities is how we define value.

If contribution is only measured in visible output, economic return, or efficiency, then many essential roles become invisible. Care, listening, bridging differences, holding space — these are not easily quantified, but they are foundational to strong, healthy community dynamics.

In the context of Holistic Management, community dynamics are not separate from ecological or financial outcomes. They are interdependent. How people relate to one another directly influences how decisions are made, how land is managed, and how resilient a system can become.

A Living Practice

Community dynamics is not something we observe, fix or solve. It is something we participate in.

It requires awareness — noticing who is included and who is not.

It requires humility — recognising that no single perspective is enough.

It requires reciprocity — not as obligation, but as a natural response to connection.

And perhaps most importantly, it requires us to value diversity and what is not immediately visible.

Because, like the understory, the health of a community is often determined by the not so visible.