Liberty consists in the division of power. Absolutism, in concentration of power.
Lord Acton
Why Decentralization?
Power, like fire, is neither inherently good nor bad, but its nature lies in its arrangement and control. While history favored centralizing power in grand structures for order, this concentration often leads to a form of blindness – forgetting the local, the particular, and the human scale of life. A distant authority, though seemingly efficient, can become isolated and unresponsive.
A different vision calls for power to be shared, dispersed, and kept humble. By bringing decision-making closer to communities, power becomes more attuned to real needs and diverse realities. This decentralization limits the scope of error, transforms diversity into a wellspring of innovation through local experimentation, and fosters a profound sense of shared responsibility.
Ultimately, this approach champions participation over paternalism, encouraging individuals to become active co-creators of their world rather than passive subjects. True strength, in this view, doesn't reside in a solitary peak of authority, but in a connected web of human, local, and honest engagement – power that listens from beside, rather than shouts from above.
A different vision calls for power to be shared, dispersed, and kept humble. By bringing decision-making closer to communities, power becomes more attuned to real needs and diverse realities. This decentralization limits the scope of error, transforms diversity into a wellspring of innovation through local experimentation, and fosters a profound sense of shared responsibility.
Ultimately, this approach champions participation over paternalism, encouraging individuals to become active co-creators of their world rather than passive subjects. True strength, in this view, doesn't reside in a solitary peak of authority, but in a connected web of human, local, and honest engagement – power that listens from beside, rather than shouts from above.
Macro-level Governance Models
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Federalism
Confederalism Democratic Confederalism Libertarian Municipalism Polycentric Governance Participatory Budgeting Subsidiarity Principle |
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Not-for-Profit Decentralized Governance Models
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Sociocracy
Worker Self-Directed Nonprofits Collective Impact Model Quaker Consensus Process Swarm Organizations |
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Models for Decentralized BUSINESS Governance
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Holacracy
Worker Cooperatives Steward Ownership DAOs (Decentralized Autonomous Organizations) Open Source Project Governance |
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Other Community level Decentralization
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Intentional communities
Time Banking / LETS Buddhist Sangha Governance Model Indigenous governance models Neighborhood Assemblies |
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Hybridization
Other Notable models and Principles
Liquid democracy
Bioregionalism
Commons-Based Peer Production (CBPP)
Bioregionalism
Commons-Based Peer Production (CBPP)
Philosophy of TEAL Organizations
Frederic Laloux posits evolution of organizations charting its course through distinct stages, assigned illuminating hues.
He dissects these collective entities, finding resonant colours:
These organizations aspire to function as living systems – responsive, guided by a purpose, demanding that individuals bring their undivided, authentic selves to the collective endeavour. A move perhaps, towards maturity, where control yields to trust, and mechanism to life.
He dissects these collective entities, finding resonant colours:
- Red: The primal camp, governed by the chieftain's brute force. Order wrestled from chaos through fear, the fundamental currency of control.
- Amber: The rigid hierarchy, finding solace in immutability and assigned place. Like ancient institutions or well-drilled ranks, duty is paramount, deviation suspect.
- Orange: The prevalent modern form. Agile machines bent on conquering objectives, obsessed with metrics and growth. A relentless pursuit of external success, powered by planning and competitive striving.
- Green: A gentler aspiration. Here, the focus shifts inward, valuing culture, seeking harmony, empowering participants. A search for belonging and shared values beyond the purely transactional.
- Self-Management: Authority is distributed, and teams/individuals make decisions using agreed-upon processes, relying on trust rather than managers.
- Wholeness: They create environments where people feel safe and encouraged to bring their full selves – including emotions, intuition, and vulnerability – to work.
- Evolutionary Purpose: The organization is viewed as a living entity sensing and adapting to its purpose, rather than being driven by fixed plans or solely profit goals set by leadership.
These organizations aspire to function as living systems – responsive, guided by a purpose, demanding that individuals bring their undivided, authentic selves to the collective endeavour. A move perhaps, towards maturity, where control yields to trust, and mechanism to life.
Featured Article
What the story of Buddhist Monks Can Teach Us About Decentralized Governance
When we think of Buddhist monks, we might imagine a very strict order: elders at the top, younger monks quietly obeying them, and everyone following the same rules across the world. But this picture isn’t quite right.
In fact, the Buddha designed the monastic community—the Sangha—to work in a very different way. He didn’t want a single person or institution controlling everything. Instead, he built a system that was local, flexible, and guided by mutual respect and shared decisions.
Let’s look at how it works.
At the heart of the ancient Buddhist monastic life is a collection of rules called the Vinaya. When I was a monk, I studied a large part of it. This is a detailed set of rules and practices meant to help monks live peacefully and ethically not harming the others. One of its most interesting ideas is that big decisions should be made together, as a group.
This group action is called a Sanghakamma. It happens when monks gather in a local area (called a sīmā) and discuss something important—like who to ordain, how to handle disputes, or what to do if a rule is broken. They try to reach full agreement. If everyone agrees, the decision is valid. Even if someone is senior, they don’t get to decide everything on their own. Respect for experience matters, but not at the cost of group harmony. The idea is simple: wisdom should guide, not control. This system is not about being perfect or always agreeing. It’s about listening, discussing, and finding common ground—together. Harmony matters.
Secondly, there are no Headquarters and no bosses.
A non-Buddhist might wonder if Buddhist monasteries around the world follow orders from a global leader—like a head office. But the Vinaya doesn’t work like that. It was never meant to create a central authority. In fact, Buddha explicitly said on his deathbed that no single person should be a central authority of the order. Each monastic community is responsible for itself. It sets its own boundaries. It holds its own meetings. It decides what to do based on local needs, using the shared rules as a guide. This keeps things flexible and rooted in real life.
Of course, this also means there’s no one to “enforce” the rules from above. Everything depends on the monks’ willingness to follow the spirit of the Vinaya. The system works best when monks care deeply about doing what is right—not because someone tells them to, but because they choose it together.
But Governments see differently than Buddha.
In some countries—like Myanmar and Thailand—the state has created official Buddhist authorities, often with a high-ranking monk (like a Supreme Patriarch) at the top. These state-approved structures help organize things across the country. But they also add a layer of control that the original Vinaya never intended.
This raises a difficult question: does the state’s version of Buddhism match the Sangha’s own ideals? If not, what does happen? Can monks still truly govern themselves when government set the rules? The truth is, the Sangha in these places often has limited power to change the system. The result is a mix: part religious, part political. And the political forces definitely manipulate the religious mass for their goals and gains. And their manipulations often works with the people who are not actually aware of the rules set by the Buddha.
The beauty of the ancient Buddhist monastic system is that it trusts people to take responsibility together. It values discussion, care, and shared effort. It's core value is Ahimsa (Do No Harm). It doesn’t believe in controlling others through power or fear. Instead, it invites people to live by example—and to help others do the same.
But like all beautiful things, it is also fragile. Without sincere effort and active understanding, the system can weaken. If monks don’t meet, talk, or reflect together, the structure breaks down. If outside forces dominate, the community can lose its independence. Even so, the Vinaya reminds us that good governance doesn’t need to be centralized. It can be local. It can be cooperative. It can be human.
The original Sangha's emphasis on the community governing itself, making decisions together (aiming for consent), fostering solidarity and trust, and the path requiring deep personal honesty and development look very similar to the Self-Management and Wholeness principles of Teal organizations. The way the Sangha spread and adapted also has a flavor of an organic, "living system" evolution, even if their core spiritual purpose was unchanging. The Buddha kind of created an organization, emphasizing principles of autonomy, community responsibility, and personal integrity over top-down control, long before modern ideas about organizational structure came along. Of course, the context was spiritual and ethical, not running a business, but the style of governance has striking parallels.
And perhaps, in a world filled with power struggles and control, this small, ancient idea still has something to teach us.
In fact, the Buddha designed the monastic community—the Sangha—to work in a very different way. He didn’t want a single person or institution controlling everything. Instead, he built a system that was local, flexible, and guided by mutual respect and shared decisions.
Let’s look at how it works.
At the heart of the ancient Buddhist monastic life is a collection of rules called the Vinaya. When I was a monk, I studied a large part of it. This is a detailed set of rules and practices meant to help monks live peacefully and ethically not harming the others. One of its most interesting ideas is that big decisions should be made together, as a group.
This group action is called a Sanghakamma. It happens when monks gather in a local area (called a sīmā) and discuss something important—like who to ordain, how to handle disputes, or what to do if a rule is broken. They try to reach full agreement. If everyone agrees, the decision is valid. Even if someone is senior, they don’t get to decide everything on their own. Respect for experience matters, but not at the cost of group harmony. The idea is simple: wisdom should guide, not control. This system is not about being perfect or always agreeing. It’s about listening, discussing, and finding common ground—together. Harmony matters.
Secondly, there are no Headquarters and no bosses.
A non-Buddhist might wonder if Buddhist monasteries around the world follow orders from a global leader—like a head office. But the Vinaya doesn’t work like that. It was never meant to create a central authority. In fact, Buddha explicitly said on his deathbed that no single person should be a central authority of the order. Each monastic community is responsible for itself. It sets its own boundaries. It holds its own meetings. It decides what to do based on local needs, using the shared rules as a guide. This keeps things flexible and rooted in real life.
Of course, this also means there’s no one to “enforce” the rules from above. Everything depends on the monks’ willingness to follow the spirit of the Vinaya. The system works best when monks care deeply about doing what is right—not because someone tells them to, but because they choose it together.
But Governments see differently than Buddha.
In some countries—like Myanmar and Thailand—the state has created official Buddhist authorities, often with a high-ranking monk (like a Supreme Patriarch) at the top. These state-approved structures help organize things across the country. But they also add a layer of control that the original Vinaya never intended.
This raises a difficult question: does the state’s version of Buddhism match the Sangha’s own ideals? If not, what does happen? Can monks still truly govern themselves when government set the rules? The truth is, the Sangha in these places often has limited power to change the system. The result is a mix: part religious, part political. And the political forces definitely manipulate the religious mass for their goals and gains. And their manipulations often works with the people who are not actually aware of the rules set by the Buddha.
The beauty of the ancient Buddhist monastic system is that it trusts people to take responsibility together. It values discussion, care, and shared effort. It's core value is Ahimsa (Do No Harm). It doesn’t believe in controlling others through power or fear. Instead, it invites people to live by example—and to help others do the same.
But like all beautiful things, it is also fragile. Without sincere effort and active understanding, the system can weaken. If monks don’t meet, talk, or reflect together, the structure breaks down. If outside forces dominate, the community can lose its independence. Even so, the Vinaya reminds us that good governance doesn’t need to be centralized. It can be local. It can be cooperative. It can be human.
The original Sangha's emphasis on the community governing itself, making decisions together (aiming for consent), fostering solidarity and trust, and the path requiring deep personal honesty and development look very similar to the Self-Management and Wholeness principles of Teal organizations. The way the Sangha spread and adapted also has a flavor of an organic, "living system" evolution, even if their core spiritual purpose was unchanging. The Buddha kind of created an organization, emphasizing principles of autonomy, community responsibility, and personal integrity over top-down control, long before modern ideas about organizational structure came along. Of course, the context was spiritual and ethical, not running a business, but the style of governance has striking parallels.
And perhaps, in a world filled with power struggles and control, this small, ancient idea still has something to teach us.
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