What Is Collective Impact?

In life, many of the problems we face — poverty, poor education, or health inequality — are too large for one group to fix alone. Collective Impact is a way of bringing many different people and organizations together to solve such problems. These include governments, charities, businesses, and members of the community. The goal is a united front and systemic change.

But this is more than just "working together." It's about agreeing on a shared goal, planning actions carefully, and making sure everyone stays aligned over time. It requires discipline, patience, and a deep sense of trust, and it involves addressing underlying systemic issues.
Collective Impact means long-term commitment, shared goals, and constant cooperation — not just teamwork, but unity.

Where Did the Idea Come From?

In 2011, John Kania and Mark Kramer wrote about this idea in the Stanford Social Innovation Review. They proposed that big change requires groups from different parts of society to work closely, not separately.

They also shared five core conditions that make Collective Impact work:

• A shared goal (Common Agenda)
• Shared ways to measure success (Shared Measurement Systems)
• Different but connected actions (Mutually Reinforcing Activities)
• Open, ongoing communication (Continuous Communication)
• A strong team to coordinate everything (Backbone Support)

Over time, practice and learning have improved the model, leading to increased focus on equity, listening to local voices, staying flexible, and considering power dynamics.

What Makes Collective Impact Special?

• How decisions are made: Usually, a group of people from different sectors come together to make decisions. They aim for consensus through discussion and shared leadership, striving for collective agreement rather than control by a single authority.
• Who holds the power: Ideally, power is balanced between different voices — government, nonprofits, business, and local communities. However, larger or more powerful organizations can sometimes dominate unless proactive steps are taken to protect equity and ensure shared power, which is essential for achieving the initiative's main goals.
• Who keeps it all together: There is often a dedicated team or organization, called the "backbone organization," responsible for handling planning, communication, data collection, and organizing meetings. They provide the necessary coordination to keep the entire effort moving forward. Clear infrastructure is key for this function.
• How people stay connected: Through regular meetings, shared documents, online tools, and dedicated retreats. Communication must be honest and consistent.
• How conflict is handled: Disagreements are natural when diverse groups work together. Effective initiatives establish clear, structured processes to resolve conflicts respectfully. As initiatives mature, they also learn to address disagreements in ways that uphold fairness and justice, seeking solutions that benefit all participants.

How Do You Start a Collective Impact Effort?

1. Agree on the main goal: Everyone must understand the problem and what success looks like. Define the shared objective clearly.
2. Choose shared ways to measure: Use the same data to track progress, ensuring everyone shares a common understanding of how well the initiative is performing.
3. Coordinate different efforts: Plan who does what and how activities will complement each other to avoid duplication and maximize synergy.
4. Create a strong backbone team: This team must be trusted, capable, and dedicated to the coordination role.
5. Talk openly and regularly: Maintain consistent information flow and nurture strong relationships among all participants.
6. Stay flexible: Recognize that conditions change. The plan should be adaptable, a living document that can accommodate evolving circumstances.

The Good and the Hard Parts

Advantages:

• It addresses the full scope of a complex problem.
• Sharing resources strengthens overall impact.
• Many voices build broader support and public trust.
• Long-term cooperation provides more stability than short-term projects.
• Brings together diverse perspectives, leading to better outcomes.

Disadvantages:

• Participants may have differing goals, making agreement challenging.
• Decision-making can be time-consuming due to the collaborative nature.
• Without intentional effort, powerful groups can dominate the process.
• Managing and tracking shared data can become complex.

Common Problems and How to Deal With Them

• Problem: Groups compete or disagree. Solution: Build strong relationships early, use a shared language, and consider involving neutral facilitators. Emphasize collaboration over competition.
• Problem: Local voices are not heard. Solution: Empower community members with real decision-making authority, moving beyond tokenistic inclusion.
• Problem: People get tired of data. Solution: Use simple, relevant measures and connect data not just to reporting, but to learning and improving the work.
• Problem: The backbone team burns out. Solution: Ensure the backbone is adequately funded, has a clear understanding of its role, and receives consistent support for the long-term nature of the work.

Real Examples of Collective Impact

• StriveTogether (Education in the U.S.): Started in Cincinnati to help children succeed from early childhood through career. It has expanded its network across the country.
  • Uses shared measures (like reading scores) across schools, nonprofits, and businesses to track collective progress.
  • Emphasizes equity, particularly for students of color and those experiencing poverty.
  • Lesson: Trust and fairness are essential for the backbone team and partners. Data is a valuable tool, but it must be shared and used wisely and communication among all parties is key.
• Harlem Children’s Zone (Whole Community Approach): This initiative provides comprehensive support for children in Harlem from birth to college.
  • Integrates schools, health services, and parent programs into a continuous "support journey."
  • Lesson: Deep, local focus and long-term commitment are necessary for significant, sustained change. There are no quick fixes in complex social work.
• Other Inspiring Models:
  • Healthier Here (Seattle): A health initiative prioritizing local groups and racial equity.
  • Tamarack Institute (Canada): Supports cities in collaborative efforts to end poverty.
  • 100Kin10 (U.S.): Focuses on training science and math teachers through networked learning to accelerate progress in education.

Legal and Practical Issues

• Money: When multiple funders contribute, clear rules and agreements are needed for financial management and distribution.
• Data: If groups share data, legal agreements are essential to ensure data protection and privacy.
• Equity: Initiatives must comply with anti-discrimination laws and make genuine efforts to include and respect all voices.
• Jobs: Backbone teams and partner organizations must adhere to relevant employment laws when hiring and managing staff.

What Makes Collective Impact Work Best?

• Center equity: Move beyond invitations; actively share power with community members and marginalized groups.
• Balance action and planning: Celebrate incremental successes while maintaining focus on the long-term vision.
• Be open: Share both achievements and setbacks transparently, as honesty builds trust.
• Spread leadership: Cultivate leadership capabilities across the initiative, rather than relying on a single individual.
• Support the backbone: Ensure the coordinating team has the necessary skills, resources, and sustained support to effectively perform its vital function.

In the end, Collective Impact is not just a method; it is a mindset. It recognizes that complex problems cannot be solved in isolation. But through generosity, patience, and clear, disciplined collaboration, diverse actors working together can build something truly better.

What Is Holacracy?

Most organizations are structured like pyramids, with leaders at the top and everyone else positioned below. Holacracy offers a different approach: a system without traditional bosses, yet with clear order. Instead of a hierarchy, Holacracy provides a framework for collective decision-making. It replaces fixed job titles with dynamic roles, each a clearly defined set of responsibilities. Meetings are designed with specific purposes, moving beyond mere habit.

The core idea is both bold and simple: Authority resides in the process itself, not in any single person. This empowers individuals to act more freely and clearly, guided by shared, understandable rules rather than vague intuition or charisma. It's an effort to create a more intelligent and human workplace. Notably, Ulteria in France also utilizes this framework.
 
Where Did It Come From?

Holacracy was developed by Brian Robertson, who felt frustrated by the inefficiencies of traditional business structures. At his software company, he observed that hierarchy slowed progress, caused confusion, and wasted energy. Drawing from agile methodologies, systems theory, and philosophical concepts, he began experimenting to create a system where power was shared, not concentrated.

In 2007, he founded HolacracyOne to promote this model. Holacracy evolved into a more formal system, governed by the detailed Holacracy Constitution. Large companies like Zappos adopted it, with mixed results; some found it beneficial, while others struggled. These experiences collectively helped shape Holacracy into its current form. In 2016, SINA in Uganda also adopted this framework.
 
What Makes Holacracy Unique?

• Decisions Tied to Roles, Not People: Authority is vested in the role, granting individuals the right to act on their responsibilities without needing permission from a manager. This reduces bottlenecks and enhances clarity.
• Power Distributed in Circles: Roles are organized into circles, functioning as teams with shared purposes. Each circle manages its own work while being part of a larger organizational structure, akin to branches on a tree.
• Carefully Designed Meetings: Holacracy utilizes two primary meeting types:
  • Governance meetings to define and evolve roles and policies.
  • Tactical meetings to address operational issues and coordinate work.
• Tensions Treated as Clues, Not Problems: A "tension"—the gap between the current reality and a perceived potential improvement—is seen as valuable information. Holacracy provides a process to translate these tensions into concrete changes.
• Conflict Becomes Constructive: By separating the individual from the role, disagreements tend to become less personal, allowing people to focus on the work rather than ego clashes.

 
How to Start with Holacracy

1. Adopt the Constitution: Leadership formally agrees to abide by Holacracy’s rules, distributing control to the defined process.
2. Train Everyone: Holacracy is a new operating system. Provide ample time and support for people to learn its vocabulary, tools, and rhythms.
3. Define Roles and Circles: Map the organization's work into clear roles and group related roles into circles.
4. Begin Structured Meetings: Implement regular governance and tactical meetings to embed the process into daily operations.
5. Support People in Their Roles: Offer coaching, resources, and patient guidance as individuals adapt to new ways of working and exercising authority.
6. Keep Adapting: Holacracy is not a static endpoint but a dynamic system that evolves as the people using it learn and grow.

 
What Are the Pros and Cons?

The Upsides:

• Clarity: Individuals have a clear understanding of their responsibilities.
• Adaptability: The organization can respond and evolve quickly as needs change.
• Empowerment: People act with confidence, knowing the scope of their authority.
• Professional Distance: Feedback focuses on roles and performance, fostering growth without personal conflict.
• Agile Workforce: The structure supports a more responsive and adaptable workforce, which can be beneficial during crises.
  

The Downsides:

• Steep Learning Curve: The system's language and processes can initially feel complex and overwhelming.
• Cultural Pushback: Resistance may arise from individuals accustomed to traditional hierarchical structures.
• Requires Investment: Significant resources are needed for training and ongoing support.
• Potential for Rigidity: If not balanced with human connection, the structured formality can feel impersonal or overly rigid.
• Mission Alignment is Key: If the organizational mission is unclear, the distributed culture may inadvertently create more problems than it solves.

 
Common Challenges (and How to Respond)

• Challenge: Initial Complexity.
  • Answer: Start small with pilot teams to build familiarity before scaling implementation.
• Challenge: Formality clashes with a casual workplace culture.
  • Answer: Maintain space for informal interactions, social connections, and human moments alongside formal processes.
• Challenge: Leaders are reluctant to cede control.
  • Answer: Reframe leadership within Holacracy as a deeper form of guidance based on trust and clarity, rather than direct control.
• Challenge: Incompatibility with legal structures.
  • Answer: Maintain a traditional legal board where required. Holacracy governs internal operations while ensuring legal compliance. Consult with legal counsel.

 
Real-World Stories

• HolacracyOne: The founding organization continues to use Holacracy fully, demonstrating that discipline in adhering to the processes is essential for the system's functionality.
• Medium: This publishing company adopted Holacracy but later abandoned it. They found that in their fast-changing environment, the structure sometimes impeded speed and resulted in higher costs than anticipated.
  • Lesson: Holacracy must remain adaptable to reality, avoiding rigid dogma.
• David Allen Company: The organization behind "Getting Things Done" embraced Holacracy and reported improvements in clarity and workflow, attributing their success to significant investment in training.
• Springest (Netherlands): This online learning platform successfully uses Holacracy, reporting increased staff happiness and faster decision-making.
• Zappos: Perhaps the most widely known case. CEO Tony Hsieh implemented Holacracy to foster innovation. While some employees thrived, others struggled, and the transition was perceived by some as detrimental.
  • Lesson: The system must align with the organizational culture, or the culture must be prepared for the system.

 
Legal Considerations

Holacracy transforms internal operations but does not alter external legal obligations. Traditional requirements regarding boards, taxes, and compliance still apply. It is crucial that teams understand they must adhere to all legal obligations. Clear distinctions between formal legal authority and internal Holacracy roles must be maintained, and Holacracy practices should be reflected in internal policies and charters.
 
Best Practice

• Master the Basics: Avoid rushing implementation. Ensure a thorough understanding of the system before attempting modifications.
• Prioritize Ongoing Training: Continuously support individuals in developing their roles, leading meetings, and processing tensions.
• Utilize Appropriate Tools: Digital platforms like GlassFrog can enhance visibility and manage the system effectively.
• Connect to Purpose: Ensure the organization's core mission guides all structural and operational changes.
• Maintain the Human Element: While Holacracy provides structure, cultivate a culture of warmth and human connection. Consult legal counsel as needed.
• Adapt to Context: Tailor the framework to align with your specific culture and mission.
  

Holacracy is not a universal solution; it will not solve all problems or be suitable for every team. However, it offers a distinct perspective – one that views individuals not merely as employees but as thoughtful, creative contributors. It serves as a reminder that order can be supportive, clarity can enable freedom, and leadership is fundamentally about empowering others to thrive within a shared structure.

In a world of sprawling complexity — of climate change, pandemics, digital economies, and displaced populations — the notion that any single institution, government, or leader could grasp the full picture seems increasingly implausible. The global problems we face are too entangled, too multidimensional, and too dynamic to be managed by a single center of authority.

Yet, this recognition need not lead us to despair. Instead, it invites us to consider an alternative vision of governance — one that relinquishes the illusion of control from the top, and embraces the possibility of coordinated plurality from the ground up. This is the promise of Polycentric Governance.

At first glance, the term sounds clinical, perhaps even bureaucratic. But look closer, and it reveals a deeper philosophical challenge to how we think about power, authority, and the very idea of political order. It compels us to ask: What if, rather than looking for a single solution, we designed systems that welcome many overlapping centers of decision-making — each responsive, each adaptive, each accountable in its own way?

Modern political thought has long been enchanted by the image of the singular sovereign. From Hobbes’s Leviathan to Weber’s bureaucratic state, legitimacy and order were to flow from one clear locus of authority. The idea was seductive: where one will rules, chaos recedes.

But reality is messier — and richer. Whether we examine environmental resource management, urban planning, or pandemic response, we find not centralized command, but a tapestry of actors: local communities, NGOs, courts, international agencies, indigenous councils, municipalities, scientific institutions, and citizen groups. These actors may operate with different norms and incentives, yet they often find ways to interact, overlap, and coordinate — sometimes in conflict, but often in productive tension.

The scholars Elinor and Vincent Ostrom brought this insight into focus. They observed that in many cases — particularly in managing common-pool resources like forests, fisheries, or irrigation systems — top-down state control failed, but so too did unchecked privatization. What succeeded, instead, were networks of governance that operated at multiple levels. The key was not uniformity, but diversity — not hierarchy, but polycentricity.

Polycentric governance asks us to take self-governance seriously. It proposes that people — when given the means, trust, and institutional support — can organize themselves to solve shared problems. It affirms the dignity of local knowledge and collective intelligence. But it also goes further: it suggests that the interplay of multiple centers can create systems more resilient than any singular authority could.

In doing so, it echoes an older, civic tradition. Just as Tocqueville marveled at the capacity of Americans to form associations to address public needs, polycentric governance relies on an ethos of participatory pluralism. It asks us to see governance not as a monologue issued from the state, but as a polyphony of voices, each with something to contribute.

This is not simply an administrative question. It is a moral one. What kind of society do we become when we distribute power widely, when we trust citizens to participate in shaping their own futures — not merely as voters in national elections, but as active agents in their neighborhoods, professions, and ecosystems?

Polycentric systems are not free of difficulty. They can create overlaps, contradictions, and tensions. Who decides when jurisdictions collide? How are the vulnerable protected if responsibilities are dispersed? How do we ensure that decentralization does not become fragmentation?
These are not trivial questions. But neither are they fatal. In fact, they invite us to a richer practice of politics — one that requires negotiation, transparency, and moral imagination. Polycentric governance demands that we abandon the search for a single answer, and instead develop the habits of coordination, reciprocity, and mutual recognition.

This is also where the moral dimension of polycentricity becomes clear. It is not enough to design institutional mechanisms; we must cultivate civic virtues — openness to other perspectives, patience with deliberation, commitment to dialogue across difference. In other words, the success of polycentric governance depends not just on the distribution of authority, but on the quality of the relationships between centers of decision-making.

What makes polycentric governance compelling is its balance of modesty and ambition. Modesty, because it refuses the hubris of total control. It recognizes that no one institution can foresee or manage every complexity. But ambition, too, because it affirms that through collaboration — horizontal, interlinked, and grounded in mutual respect — we can still govern wisely and justly.

In a time of climate breakdown, geopolitical flux, and democratic backsliding, we might be tempted to yearn for strong leaders and centralized action. But polycentric governance suggests a different path: that strength may lie in coordination, not command. That justice may emerge not from uniformity, but from negotiated diversity.

Polycentric governance does not ask us to dismantle the state, nor to celebrate unbounded localism. Instead, it offers a vision of democracy as a system of systems — where each level of governance reinforces and refines the others, where power is checked by proximity, and where solutions are shaped not only by experts, but by the lived wisdom of communities.

In this way, polycentric governance is not just a technical framework. It is a call to rethink how we live together. It invites us to trust not in distant abstractions, but in each other. And it reminds us — gently but firmly — that democracy is not about finding the center of power, but about multiplying the centers of responsibility.

It is, finally, a philosophy of hope. Not the naïve hope that all will go well, but the grounded hope that when people are given the chance to govern themselves — and to collaborate with others who do the same — something richer, fairer, and more enduring can emerge. A politics not of the few, but of the many.

In today’s political landscape, terms like “confederation” and “federation” are often used interchangeably, even though their meanings, rooted in political theory, are quite distinct. To the casual observer, the European Union, Switzerland, and even the United States might all appear to be “confederations” of sorts, but a closer look reveals that the nature of confederation, as understood in its original sense, has largely disappeared. What, in truth, is a confederation? And why has the idea become so difficult to define in our time?

These questions take us beyond technical institutional design. They touch on deeper concerns: how much power should political communities entrust to a central authority, and what degree of autonomy do they require to preserve their identity and self-government?

In its classical form, a confederation is a voluntary association of sovereign political communities—states, nations, or peoples—that choose to collaborate for certain common purposes, typically security, diplomacy, or economic exchange. It is, by design, a fragile balance: each member retains the final word on its own sovereignty, while the central body remains strictly limited in scope and power.

The hallmarks of confederalism are these:

• Decision-making is consensual, often unanimous.
• Withdrawal is possible—indeed, often formalized.
• The center does not govern citizens directly but acts only through the member units.

A confederation, then, is not a state but a treaty-based association. Its authority is delegated, not derived from the people as a whole, and its cohesion depends on trust rather than law. It represents, in essence, a form of political friendship among sovereign equals.

In practice, however, confederations rarely last. History offers us only fleeting examples. The early United States, under the Articles of Confederation, lacked the ability to tax or enforce laws—an experiment in radical decentralization that gave way to a stronger federal constitution within a decade. The German Confederation of the 19th century was similarly short-lived, ultimately replaced by a unified state.

Even the Swiss Confederation, whose name suggests otherwise, abandoned the confederal model in 1848, transforming into a robust federal democracy. Today, Switzerland may be one of the world’s most decentralized federations, but it is no longer a confederation in the theoretical sense.

The pattern is instructive. Where confederations arise, they either dissolve or evolve into federations. Why? Because the challenges of common action—whether war, trade, or migration—demand capacities that loose associations struggle to provide.

And yet, there is a lingering desire for the confederal idea, particularly in our era of globalization. Consider the European Union. It is neither a state nor a mere alliance. It possesses a common currency, a parliament, a court, and a bureaucracy. It legislates across borders, but its member states retain national sovereignty and identities.

Is the EU a confederation? Some argue it is—a new kind of post-modern confederalism. Others see it as an emerging federal order. But perhaps the better answer is that the EU embodies a third category: a supranational polity, one that blurs the line between statehood and alliance. It represents a pragmatic answer to an ancient question: how can communities cooperate deeply without surrendering themselves?
The confusion arises because political language has not caught up with political reality. “Confederation” once meant a specific legal arrangement; today, it is often used normatively, to express a preference for loose integration, mutual respect, and local autonomy.

There is no universally agreed-upon definition of confederalism today. And maybe that’s fitting. For the term has become less a description and more a political aspiration—a vision of unity without domination, of power shared rather than imposed.

But aspirations are not blueprints. When peacebuilders propose confederal arrangements in conflict-torn regions, or when secessionist movements use the term to soften demands for independence, they are not always clear on what they mean. Is the goal shared governance? Parallel sovereignty? Coordination without coercion?

We must ask this. To what extent can political communities be bound together by choice, and not by force? And what does genuine autonomy look like in a world where interdependence is inescapable?

Perhaps we should stop asking whether a political order is a confederation and begin asking how much confederal logic it contains. Imagine a spectrum:

• At one end, the unitary state, in which all authority flows from the center.
• At the other, the confederation, where all authority remains with the parts.
• In between, a range of arrangements—federations, unions, coalitions—each balancing unity and autonomy in different ways.

Confederalism, then, is not a fixed model but a moral and political idea: a call for governance that honors the dignity of distinct communities while acknowledging the goods of cooperation. It reminds us that political unity must be earned, not imposed. In a time when both authoritarian centralism and secessionist fragmentation threaten the public good, the spirit of confederalism—its humility, its commitment to mutual recognition—may be more valuable than its institutional form.

What does it mean to live together freely? To govern not through power, but through trust? These are the quiet, profound questions at the heart of Democratic Confederalism, a philosophy that invites us to rethink democracy not as a system imposed from above, but as a way of life grown from below—among neighbors, in the streets and villages.

Let us explore this vision, its practices, its possibilities, and the challenges it faces, with a spirit of curiosity.

A Democracy Rooted in Neighbors

Democratic Confederalism, as initially envisioned by Abdullah Öcalan, begins with a simple yet radical idea: democracy should start not with the state, but with the people who share a place and a life. It imagines a world where power flows upward from local communities—neighborhoods, villages, towns—rather than downward from distant institutions. This is a “democracy of neighbors,” where ordinary people shape their shared future through dialogue and care.

At its core, this philosophy values:

• Self-governance: Communities make decisions together, organizing around their own needs, from healthcare to education to resolving disputes.
• Gender equality: Women are equal partners in decision-making, challenging traditions of dominance.
• Ecological awareness: Living in harmony with the earth is a guiding principle.
• Pluralism: Diverse voices and cultures are welcomed, not silenced.

This is not a rigid blueprint but a way of thinking—a call to build relationships of trust and responsibility, where freedom means not just having a vote, but having a voice in a community that listens.

The Practice of Shared Responsibility

In Rojava, the autonomous region of North and East Syria, this philosophy has been tested amid the chaos of war. Here, people have dared to build something new: a society where democracy begins in small, local assemblies and neighborhood communes. These are not grand parliaments but humble gatherings—families meeting over tea, neighbors discussing their shared challenges.

In these assemblies, decisions are made not by majority rule but through consent—a process that asks, “Is this good enough for now, and safe enough to try?” This question invites humility, making space for dissent not as a threat, but as a way to strengthen ideas. Leadership is not about control but about service, often rotated to ensure accountability. Even children and youth are invited into this experiment, with youth parliaments mirroring adult assemblies. This is democracy as education: learning what it means to belong, to be responsible, to shape a shared future.

The approach draws from many traditions—libertarian municipalism, sociocracy, the Indian concept of neighborocracy, and the wisdom of communities who know that trust is earned through dialogue, not decreed from above. It also builds on Asset-Based Community Development, where people start not by listing their problems, but by celebrating their strengths—the skills, passions, and relationships already present.

The Power of Trust in Crisis

Rojava’s experiment shows that democracy, in its deepest sense, is not a luxury but a lifeline. In the face of displacement, military threats, and skepticism, communities have found strength in acting together. This suggests a profound lesson. Every community, no matter how broken, holds the seeds of its own renewal. By weaving together their strengths, neighbors become co-creators of a common life.
The lesson from Rojava is not about perfect systems but about relationships. Politics, at its best, is the patient work of listening, responding, and building trust. Democratic Confederalism offers an invitation to hope, not through grand promises but through the quiet courage of neighbors trusting to govern together.

Theoretical Challenges: Living Without a State

Yet, this vision raises difficult questions. Democratic Confederalism rejects the nation-state, with its centralized power and tendency toward uniformity. But in a world dominated by states, how can a network of communes engage with the global order? How would it negotiate treaties, defend against aggression, or coordinate large-scale needs like infrastructure or environmental protection without creating centralized structures that might resemble a state? How decentralized communities can act collectively on a large scale while preserving local autonomy? For example, managing a pandemic or building a railway requires coordination across regions. Without clear mechanisms, there’s a risk that new forms of bureaucracy or power could emerge, undermining the very freedom the system seeks to protect.

Ideology and Leadership

Another question arises again. What holds a confederation together? If communities are autonomous, how are the boundaries of the larger confederation decided? Is it based on geography, shared values, or something else? Without a central authority, how does the system resolve disputes between communes or prevent fragmentation?

Democratic Confederalism champions leaderless, horizontal assemblies, yet it is deeply tied to Öcalan. But this is perhaps more relevant to the Kurds. The question is how does the philosophy prevent his influence—or any ideology—from becoming a form of centralized authority? A system that values open dialogue must guard against its founding ideas stifling dissent or limiting pluralism. It needs ways to encourage ongoing critique and evolution of its own principles.

There are other questions about transition. How does a world of nation-states transform into a confederation of communities? Does the philosophy rely on rare conditions, like state collapse or conflict, to create space for new structures? Or can it offer a universal model for change?

Critiques of Practice: Compromising Ideals

In practice, critics argue that Rojava’s application of Democratic Confederalism reveals tensions. One major critique is that the philosophy’s anti-imperialist roots are compromised by alliances with powers like the United States, seen as imperial forces. Some argue that the philosophy’s logic—treating all global actors as equivalent in a “third world war”—justifies these alliances as pragmatic. On February 2025, Ocalan made a historic call from prison for the party to lay down its arms, dissolve itself and end its decades-long conflict with the Turkish state. This risks betraying the goal of a post-colonial world free from imperial dominance, creating a gap between the philosophy’s ideals and its actions. External critics, like the Communist Party of Turkiye, argue that Democratic Confederalism has merged with liberalism, aligning with Western powers and losing its revolutionary edge. This suggests that the philosophy, in practice, may dilute its radical vision, adopting ideas or alliances that clash with its anti-imperialist origins.

Another critique questions whether the philosophy adequately prevents power from concentrating, especially in crisis. In Rojava, some see an “autocracy” under military leaders, despite the theory of assembly-based governance. This suggests a potential weakness: in militarized or unstable contexts, can the philosophy ensure that civilian, decentralized assemblies hold power over military or political structures? The design may need stronger safeguards to maintain its democratic core.

The Promise and the Challenge

Democratic Confederalism offers a beautiful, challenging vision: a world where democracy is not a distant institution but a living practice, rooted in trust and shared responsibility. Its experiments in Rojava show what’s possible when people dare to govern together, even in crisis. Yet, it faces deep questions—about surviving in a state-dominated world, balancing local and collective needs, ensuring ideological openness, and staying true to its liberationist roots.

Perhaps the true power of this philosophy lies not in providing all the answers, but in asking us to consider this. What kind of relationships must we build to live freely? And can we trust one another enough to try?