In search of ‘co-creators’
We need a methodology for innovating communities. Let’s start by getting to know the people who are hard at work shaping communities around the world.
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This edition is the first in a series exploring key elements of a methodology for innovating communities. I’ll examine them one by one before attempting to piece them together into a coherent whole.
My recent conversation with Max Meister, Co-CEO of Ludwig Meister and host of the podcast Supply Chain Heroes, serves as inspiration. We explored the intersection of innovating the supply chain and innovating communities, exchanging a torrent of ideas and stories—especially around our shared enthusiasm for Robert Wolcott and Kaihan Krippendorff’s new book, Proximity: How Coming Breakthroughs in Just-in-Time Transform Business, Society, and Daily Life.
I sensed an opportunity but didn’t reach a breakthrough. To get there, I need to establish new fundamentals—rethinking the nature of communities, the supply chain, and what it takes to be human in the digital age.
The future of community
Carol and I are in Baja California, traveling and exploring small towns and backroads on the East Cape, the western shore of the Sea of Cortez. We more or less stumbled into this place by picking spots on a map, choosing places we had never been, and setting out to experience what they offered. Baja is a desert—harsh and dry, sparsely populated—but in a way, plentiful. There’s a vibe here that’s hard to discern, but there seems to be an energy that comes from building something—a community, maybe—shared values and a stripped-down existence.
There are local people in this place—living and working, thriving and surviving—with pride of place and traditions shaped by generations. There are expats, too—building new lives, hanging together, and escaping their original homes, as expats do. And tourists.
And there are other people here—local and not, hard to label, doing something new, or perhaps, forging something better. It's hard to put a name to them, but in a few paragraphs, I will. They need an identity—not because they ask for one, but because they are doing something important. I am in awe of their work. They are the future of community.
In my gut, I believe communities can rebuild what digital technology is undoing—the very things that make us human. Don’t get me wrong. I’m in awe of deep data, virtual realities, and intelligence born of algorithms. I’m bowled over by irresistible experiences and swept along by exponential change. But with every leap forward, we leave something behind.
In a funk, I tried to capture my worries in words:
We are drifting toward a digital future. Once customers, we are now users, offered experiences instead of products. Data, intentionally curated, is the new lifeblood. As reality turns virtual, technology mediates our vision. We record life rather than live it. We trade our attention for convenience, our time for efficiency. We are gaining and profiting—but carried along, not steering. We let technology shape the future and get what we deserve.
Well, that’s depressing.
Baja restored my hope. There’s something different here, something that feels human and intentional. It’s not just a place—it’s a way of being, a quiet defiance against the forces pulling us further into the digital haze. Three stories:
At a remote crossroads, a café stocked with food both Mexican and French stands on the belief that even the smallest town deserves something special.
At an outdoor market, local growers, cooks, bakers, butchers, ceramists, distillers, and weavers share their craft, seemingly driven by love for the work itself.
At a windswept cape, a coastal community banned fishing—its historical livelihood—and rebuilt its economy around watching whales, snorkeling and diving, restaurants and shops.
All amazing. And inspiring. And human.
Together, not apart
Returning to my conversation with Max, here’s what I take from my time in Baja: Innovating communities requires recognizing the people who shape them—not just as citizens or consumers, neighbors or users, but as something more. We need to support those who are creating the future, moving mountains, or simply doing things differently—driven by possibilities, for the sake of all, as humans for humans. People like the ones in the three stories above.
To truly support them, we need a better way to describe who they are and why their work matters. That starts with language. The words we use shape how we see the world, yet much of our vocabulary is still tied to outdated ideas of commerce, consumption, and efficiency.
I’ll start by giving the people in the stories above an identity. I might call them creators because they are not passive consumers looking for things to buy, users seeking digital experiences, or even citizens expecting to vote for laws and leaders. More accurately they are co-creators, because as they do the work they love, they do it collaboratively—building or rebuilding a community.
Together, not apart.
Co-creators form the critical mass at the heart of every community, ready to be recognized, nurtured, supported, and replicated. As they succeed, they will redefine what it means to live and work as humans in the digital age.
Eons ago, nomadic humans came together to form communities, settling in places where they could accomplish together what they could not do alone. Co-creators can help us do that again.
Strong medicine, I think, for curing what ails us in our digital drift toward a data-driven future.
Forging ahead
Naming co-creators is one step. What’s next? What should I write about in my next edition? I’m not sure. I usually decide after seeking new ideas, staying open to new experiences, and trying to see the world differently. I take what life gives me, but I also like to point myself in a direction. So next, I think I’ll continue building on my conversation with Max and explore how Wolcott and Krippendorff’s concept of Proximity can enable co-creators.
Proximity is about using digital technology to create products, services, and experiences exactly when and where they are needed. Think 3D printing, streamed entertainment, vertical farms, on-demand healthcare, local energy grids, and more.
Proximity is the future of every industry. And because every industry ultimately serves all of us—everywhere we live and work—Proximity can help create the future of communities.
If we make it so.
Come with me. If you haven’t explored Proximity, I encourage you to visit the book’s homepage, here. Scroll around and click often—listen to discussions, read reviews, and reflect on the ideas and stories that interest you.
That’s all for now. But if this Update edition leaves you wanting more, immediately, please share your comments and questions below, email me directly at mark.dancer@n4bi.com, or DM me on Substack.
Together, let’s build thriving communities—one innovation at a time.