Noel Longhurst PhD - Twinned with Narnia? The postcapitalist possibilities of a countercultural...

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Twinned with Narnia? The postcapitalist possibilities of a countercultural place Noel Longhurst Abstract In recent years there has been increasing academic interest in theorising and exploring

the postcapitalist, interstitial economic spaces that exist within or beyond capitalism,

typified by the work of J. K. Gibson-Graham. Such spaces, it is argued, represent not

only sites of resistance but are spaces from which ‘alternative’ economic development

strategies can proliferate. This thesis seeks to explore the conditions under which such

‘grassroots’ postcapitalist institutions might flourish. Some of the existing literature

on postcapitalist institutions indicates that places with a reputation for countercultural

activity might be productive sites for the emergence of grassroots postcapitalism.

However, this thesis argues that such countercultural places are themselves an under-

researched and under-theorised phenomenon.

To address these deficits this thesis develops a broader conception of the

countercultural and explores the tendencies that have led to the case study area

(Totnes, Devon) ‘becoming’ a ‘New Age’ or ‘Alternative’ centre. It describes the

processes that led to the formation of a self-sustaining localised countercultural milieu

within the area. In particular, it identifies homophily, the desire to be amongst similar

people, to be significant, previously unrecognised factor. It then explores the

significance of postcapitalist institutions within the locality. Whilst the density of

activity supports the hypothesis that such places are sites of postcapitalist activity,

little evidence is found that the locality increases their economic viability. This

argument is made through an exploration of the local organic marketscape.

The thesis also explores a paradox that emerged through the research: That those

places which are productive for the emergence of new ideas and the shifting of

ontological frames might not be the best places in which to also build collective

community based entities. Thus it argues that there is a generally unrecognised

relationship between some countercultural places and processes of social innovation,

and it explores the spaces that support such innovation as well as the factors that

undermine collective projects. Ultimately, the research did not find substantive

evidence to support interstitial postcapitalist strategies or theories. However, it

concludes with some reflections on how approaches to interstitial postcapitalism

might be theoretically and practically strengthened.

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Table of Contents !Table of Contents "List of figures #List of tables $Acknowledgements %Preface &

Chapter 1: Introduction ""

1.1 Theorising postcapitalism "'

1.2 Clarifying concepts: the problem of the ‘alternative’ "% 1.3 The case study area: Totnes, Devon '(

1.4 The structure of the thesis '#

Chapter 2: Theorising postcapitalist possibility ')

2.1 Theorising interstitial postcapitalism '&2.1.1 A poststructural approach to ‘Capitalism’ **

(i) Performing anti-capitalocentric discourse *)(ii) Processes of economic resubjectification +*(iii) Building ‘community economies’ +$

2.1.2 Summary of Part One +&

2.2. Challenges to proliferative postcapitalism #(2.2.1 Economic significance #'2.2.2 Transcending the institutional context ##2.2.3 Resisting systemic tendencies #$2.2.4 Postcapitalist coherence #)

2.3 Concluding remarks $(

Chapter 3: Exploring Countercultural Places $'

3.1 Opening up the Counterculture $'3.1.1 ‘The Counterculture’ and countercultures $'3.1.2 Unpacking the Counterculture $$

(i) Radical politics $&(ii) New Social Movements %((iii) Alternative Pathways %"(iv) Alternative Spiritualities %#(v) Alternative Lifestyles %$

3.1.3 Summary of Part One %$

3.2 Placing the Counterculture %)3.2.1 Geographies of Countercultural place %&

(i) Communes %&(ii) Back to the land migration %&(iii) Urban enclaves and scenes )((iv) ‘New Age’ Networks )*(v) Other research focusing on the UK )+(vi) Summary )#

3.2.2 Processes of constructing Countercultural places )$1

!"#$%&'()*)"+, !"(ii) Institutions !!(iii) Rural landscape #$(iv) Economic margins #$(v) Networks #%

3.3 Summary of Chapter #%

Chapter 4: Countercultural place and postcapitalism #&

4.1 Exploring Postcapitalist Institutions #&4.1.1 Introduction #&4.1.2 Postcapitalist businesses #'

(i) Workers’ co-operatives #'(ii) Independent businesses #((iii) Ethical businesses #)

4.1.3 Community Enterprises #"4.1.4 Alternative Food Initiatives ##4.1.5 Community Currencies %$$4.1.6 Social markets %$%4.1.7 Summary of Part One %$*

4.2 Countercultural place and postcapitalism %$'4.2.1 Embeddedness %$(4.2.2 Heterotopia %$)

Part 3: Conclusions and Research Questions %%$

Chapter 5: Research Methodology %%*

5.1 Methodological Framework %%*5.1.1 A Critical Realist research philosophy %%*5.1.2 Case studies %%(5.1.3 An ethnographic approach %%"5.1.4 Research positionality %%#5.1.5 Multi-method research %*%

5.2 Developing the Research Focus %**5.2.1 Selection of the case study location %**5.2.2 Developing the research focus %*&

5.3 Research Methods %*"5.3.1 Participatory research through community activism %*"

(i) Combining activism and academic research %*!(ii) Community activism as a form of ‘giving back’ %&%(iii) Community activism with Transition Town Totnes %&&

5.3.2 Qualitative interviewing %&)(i) Strengths and weaknesses of qualitative interviewing %&"(ii) Sampling and development of topic guides %&#(iii) Interview access, practice and confidentiality %''

5.3.3 Research Diary and ethnographic notes %'(5.3.4 Archival Research %'(5.3.5 Other secondary data %')

5.4 Data analysis and verification %'"5.4.1 Establishing Rigour %'"5.4.2 Data analysis and verification %'#

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5.5 Concluding Reflections !"#

Chapter 6: The emergence of a Countercultural place !""

6.1 The emergence of a Countercultural place !"$6.1.1 A countercultural milieu !"$6.1.2 The emergence of a countercultural milieu !"%(a) The ‘Dartington experiment’ !$&

(i) Background to the Dartington experiment !$#(ii) Dartington as a driver of in-migration !$"(iii) Dartington as a countercultural node !'((iv) Summary of this section !'"

(b) Landscape aesthetics and imaginaries !'"(i) Dartmoor !'$(ii) The Totnes townscape !''

(c) Other local influences !')(d) Homophily !)(

(i) Value homophily !'%(ii) Familial homophily !)#(iii) Summary of this section !)"

(e) Proliferation of practices and institutions !)"(f) Discursive impact !))

(i) Institutional reputations !)%(ii) Place images !%!(iii) Mystical reputations !%&(iv) Circulation of discourses !%*(v) Summary of this section !%"

(g) Material impact !%"

6.2 Summary of Chapter !%)

Chapter 7: The Postcapitalist institutional landscape of South Devon

&(!

7.1 An overview of postcapitalism institutions in the Totnes area &(&

7.2 The organic food ‘marketscape’ &('7.2.1 Independent organic retailers &(%

(i) Origins of organic retail in Totnes &(%(ii) A (Counter)cultural ‘enclave’ economy &!!(iii) The preservation of independent retail &!"(iv) The gentrification of the retail centre &!'(v) Competition within the organic marketscape &!%(vi) Summary &&!

7.2.2 Riverford Organic Vegetables &&&(i) Emergence of Riverford Organic Vegetables &&&(ii) Transcending the locality &&*(iii) Organic conventionalism &&'(iv) Summary &#(

7.2.3 Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) &#((i) Origins of CSA in the Totnes area &#((ii) The economics of CSA in the Totnes area &#*

7.2.4 Summary: A fragmented marketscape &*!

7.3 Conclusions – the limits of proliferative postcapitalism &*&

Chapter 8: Spaces of Social Innovation &*)

8.1 Social innovation and the role of ‘Insurgent architects’ &*%3

8.2 Spaces of experimentation !"#8.2.1 Firstspaces !"#8.2.2 Secondspaces !$%8.2.3 Space for ideas !$$8.2.4 Liminal space !&%8.2.5 Summary of this section !&'

8.3 A conflictive community !&"8.3.1 Socio-cultural conflict !&"8.3.2 Ethical conflict !()

8.4 Heterotopia and ‘community’ !(&

Chapter 9: Conclusions !#%

9.1 Summary of research questions and findings !#%

9.2 Limitations and reflections !#%

9.3 Future areas of research !**9.3.1 Countercultural places !**9.3.2 Interstitial postcapitalism )*!

(i) Theorising financial capital and social surplus )*"(ii) Theorising the state and maximising academic leverage )*$(iii) Understanding the diffusion of social and ecological innovation )%*

Appendices

A. Interview Topic Guides )%%B. Extract from Master Matrix )%(C. Extract from Interview Matrix )%#

Bibliography )!*

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List of Figures 1.1 Criticisms of capitalism 13 1.2 Research questions 16 1.3 Conceptual diagrams of the research process 17 1.4 Location of Totnes in the UK 21 1.5 The East gate in Totnes 22 1.6 Totnes ‘twinned with Narnia’ sign Summer 2005 24 1.7 Structure of thesis 25 2.1: The diverse economy 39 2.2: Hazel Henderson’s cake showing economic ‘diversity’ 41 2.3: Three system approach to conceptualising the economy 42 3.1: Characteristics of the ‘Alternative Society’ 74 3.2: Strands of the Counterculture 77 4.1: Recap of Research Questions 111 5.1: Two phases of research 127 5.2: Sampling strategy 140 5.3: Screenshot from Alternative Totnes blog 151 6.1: The construction of a countercultural milieu around Totnes 161 6.2: Map of Dartington and Totnes 164 6.3: View towards Totnes 176 6.4: Proliferation of practices and institutions in the late 1970s around

Totnes 187

6.5: The Leechwell in Totnes 193 6.6: Posters in a Totnes cornershop window 197 7.1: Dimensions of the organic food marketscape 207 7.2: Independent organic retail specialists in Totnes town centre 211 7.3: Small retail units in The Narrows, Totnes 216 7.4: ‘Little chicken area’ at Beenleigh Meadows CSF site 235 7.5: Landmatters permaculture community 240 7.6: The fragmentations of the local organic food marketscape 241 8.1: The translation and diffusion of the Totnes Pound currency 253 8.2: Influences of Andy Langford 255 8.3: View from Natures Round small holding 263 8.4: Trialectics of social experimentation 274 8.5: Amnesty march through Totnes 278

All photographs by the author unless otherwise stated.

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List of Tables 2.1: Varieties of Postcapitalism 29 4.1: Examples of Community Enterprise 98 4.2: Summary of postcapitalist institutions 103 4.3: Different views of embeddedness based on Hess (2005) 106 5.1: Interviewees 142 5.2: Criteria for evaluating qualitative research 148 6.1: Significant dimensions of Countercultural activity around Totnes

1970s onwards 158

6.2: Dartington’s direct engagement with the Counterculture during the 1970s

173

6.3: Media coverage of the Totnes Pound involving project team members Feb 2008 – Sept 2008

190

6.4: Propositions relating to the formation of countercultural places 199 7.1: Postcapitalist institutions in the Totnes area 204 7.2: Examples of Community Supported Farming initiatives around

Totnes area 232

8.1: Social innovation and experimentation around the Totnes area 251

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Acknowledgements

It is an irony of sorts that a PhD that is in some ways concerned with seeing ‘hidden’

aspects of the economy is itself founded on the unseen support of so many others.

Thanks must first go to my wife Heidi who has endured the prolonged gestation of

this thesis with unbelievable patience, grace and fortitude. Without her unstinting

support there is no doubt that it would never have been completed. I owe her a great

debt of gratitude that I hope I can repay. I also owe thanks to my daughters Ayla and

Esme for tolerating many absences, both physical and mental. I thank my wider

family for their regular interest and encouragement.

My supervisors Pete North and Jennifer Johns have done their best to support a

sometimes confused and stubborn student. I thank them for their perseverance,

support and critical advice. Previous supervisors Dave Featherstone and Benedict

Korf also helped to shape the thesis. My postgraduate contemporaries at Liverpool

University have provided moral support and a friendly welcome whenever I blew in

to town. Thanks in particular to Becky Ryland, Sarah Hall, Mike Brandon and Ashley

McCormick. Sandra Mather helped produce the wonderful maps. Thanks to Steph

Petrie for the board, tea, sympathy and gossip. Colleagues at the University of East

Anglia have also provided invaluable advice during the latter stages. Gill Seyfang,

Tom Hargreaves and Alex Haxeltine in particular have gone beyond the call of duty

and I thank them deeply for that.

A great deal of thanks must also go to the people of Totnes and surrounds who were

generous with their time and support for the research, both formally and informally.

There are too many to mention by name but many appear within the thesis. I enjoyed

my work with both the local food directory group and the Totnes Pound teams and I

hope that I made a useful contribution. I endeavoured to make the research as a whole

a reciprocal project but discovered that this itself is an uneven process. Colleagues at

Community Enterprise Unit in Exeter, where I worked whilst doing the research, were

also supportive in many different ways. Staff at the Exeter Local Studies Centre, the

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Dartington Archive, the British Library and the Women’s Library were helpful in

finding research material.

Finally, thanks must go to my loyal dog Paddy. Throughout the development of this

thesis he has had to endure many bouts of distracted ball throwing and walks where

he acted as a patient but mute sounding board for my half-formed ideas. Any

inaccuracies or errors are therefore clearly his fault.

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Preface

You’ve got to love Totnes. There are few places in the country so adept at mixing the traditional with the alternative. In Totnes a classic Devon community exists side by side with people who practise some of the most off-the-wall lifestyle trends imaginable. But fascinating and complex though Totnes is, who would have thought that it could have become a legitimate subject for university degree study? One student has spent two years living in Totnes, grant funded, to examine the town and its quirky ways in detail. He leaves now with a substantial body of work, the basis for a book about his experiences, and a new daughter, born in the town while he and his wife were here. Perhaps in these days when you can study surfing or The Beatles for a university degree, it is old fashioned to go on about what some might perceive as the ‘dumbing down’ of our education services. But do you really need to live in Totnes for two years at our expense to get a handle on the place? Some might say that a fortnight is long enough. On the other hand, others might say a lifetime still wouldn’t scratch the surface.

‘Alternative studies’ editorial in the Herald Express, March 11 2009, p. 8 The above editorial arose after I contacted the newspaper to publicise the website

through which I have been publishing emerging research findings. The editorial

complemented an article (‘Noel takes alternative route towards a degree’) alongside a

photograph of my family (‘Wacky Research’). As will become clear, the issue of

‘credibility’ is a thread that is woven throughout this thesis. Hopefully it does make a

strong case as to why places such as Totnes are important as objects of serious

scholarship, and that there is much more to be learnt about them. This preface

therefore provides the background story on how I came to study Totnes.

Its origins can probably be traced back to 2000 when I finished my Masters Degree in

European Political Economy at the University of Sheffield. At this point I discovered

the ‘regeneration’ industry that was burgeoning under the New Labour government.

With a growing interest in local and community economic development I became

employed as a Regeneration Consultant at a small consultancy firm in Sheffield. For

the next couple of years I worked on projects predominately around South Yorkshire

and the East Midlands trying to ‘fix’ various social and economic problems.

However, I began to become somewhat disillusioned with the transient nature of

consultancy work and the fundamentally economic imperatives that drive it (which is

why professionals working in regeneration are sometimes referred to as ‘poverty

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pimps.’) So in 2002, for a mixture of family and professional reasons, I moved back

to Norfolk (where I grew up) and entered employment in the ‘social economy’.

Over the next four years my colleagues and I worked hard to establish an organisation

(Keystone Development Trust) that could outlive the generous tranches of public

funding that it had received, whilst also trying to deliver a range of programmes to

address the immediate social and economic problems of Thetford (a ‘London

overspill’ town) and its rural hinterland. We succeeded, but over this period a new

cloud of disillusionment began to appear. One aspect of this was related to the fact

that as Worpole (1999) has noted, as professionals we were constantly required to

articulate discourses of disadvantage and oppression to win funding, whilst

simultaneously attempting to build community confidence and esteem. A frustrating

contradiction. Secondly, a growing awareness of the potential ecological and energy

problems facing the UK left me concluding that the conventional approaches to

economic development were increasingly inadequate. Yet as a busy and overstretched

professional with a young family I had neither the time nor the energy to consider

what the alternative approaches might be. It was this frustration that led me to

consider returning to academia, in order to explore such alternatives in more detail.

Thus I applied to undertake a PhD in ‘Alternative Economic Spaces’ advertised at the

University of Liverpool.

Rather than answering my questions, the process of researching this PhD has instead

opened up a lot more. I understand that this is often the case. It has certainly led me in

directions that I never even knew existed and improved the sophistication with which

I think about these issues. In the immediate future I am lucky to be employed as a

Senior Research Associate at the University of East Anglia on a project that is

allowing me to develop some of the themes that emerged from the research,

particularly the intersection between postcapitalism and innovation. Where this

journey is taking me in the longer term is anybody’s guess.

N.L.

Norwich

August 2010

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Chapter 1: Introduction The research process that culminated in this thesis began in the autumn of 2006.

Since that time much has changed. The film An Inconvenient Truth and the Stern

Review on the Economics of Climate Change (Stern 2006) pushed global

warming up the political agenda in the UK. The price of crude oil reached an

unprecedented $147 per barrel in July 2008 raising questions about ‘peak oil’ and

the vulnerability of industrialised societies to volatility in supply and price

(Bridge 2010). The global financial crisis of 2008 spread panic amongst those at

the nexus of financial capitalism and economic hardship amongst a much wider

constituency upon whom the waves of the crisis crashed. Yet, at the same time,

little has changed. The United Nations led COP15 conference of December 2009

ended with little tangible progress on agreeing concrete measures to reduce

global carbon emissions. There remains little public discourse about the potential

necessity of reducing societal dependence on products derived from oil. To date,

despite the rhetoric of policymakers and the anger of the public, ‘capitalism’

appears to have emerged from another periodic crisis relatively unscathed and

unchanged. And whilst the tenets of economic neoliberalism and neo-classical

economics have been somewhat shattered by the financial crisis there is little

consensus on what might take their place, or indeed what ‘systemic’ changes are

necessary to guarantee the future of human civilisation.

The question of how capitalism might be changed therefore remains a key

question and is one of the overarching themes of this thesis. It is a question that

continues to vex scholars and theorists of the ‘left’ (Harvey 2010). This thesis

critically engages with the argument that how we think, describe and perform

capitalism can itself be a barrier to alternative possibilities emerging. This is the

contention has been made by the feminist, post-Marxist writers J.K. Gibson-

Graham (2006a)1. They argue that the discursive portrayal of capitalism as

systemic and oppressive prevents ‘alternative’ economic forms from emerging.

From their post-structural perspective the economy is actually ‘diverse’, 1 J.K. Gibson-Graham is the collaborative pen name of Katherine Gibson and Julie Graham. Jule Graham sadly passed away in April 2010.

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consisting of a hybrid of non-capitalist and capitalist processes, relationships and

institutions (Gibson-Graham 2006b). They argue that by recognising and

nurturing such possibilities new forms of ‘postcapitalist’ economic possibility

can emerge from the grassroots. This thesis takes such arguments seriously, and

sets out to explore them empirically.

It explores these questions through an ethnographic and participatory case study

of a site which has a reputation for being a vibrant site of such grassroots

experimentation: the town of Totnes in the south-west of the UK. In particular

the thesis attempts to explore the uneven geography of postcapitalism, whether

sites that are reputed to be centres of ‘alternative’ culture are sites at which

postcapitalist institutions can emerge and prosper. Certainly, as detailed in

Chapter Four, there is some evidence of a relationship between forms of

postcapitalism and certain strands of countercultural activity. However as the

research process unfolded it became clear that there was no existing historical

account (academic or otherwise) of how Totnes ‘became’ a ‘countercultural’

place. Indeed, the academic literature does not widely acknowledge the existence

of ‘alternative’ places. As such, the theory on the nature and formation of such

places was sparse, partial and fragmented. This thesis therefore also makes a

contribution to the theorising of countercultural places, offering a richer and

more complex understanding of them than has hitherto often been the case. It

argues that only by understanding the evolution of such places can the emergence

and potential of grassroots postcapitalism be fully comprehended.

1.1 Theorising postcapitalism

Erik Olin Wright (2010) sets out eleven principles that neatly summarise the

critique of capitalism, reproduced as Figure 1.1 below. This list highlights the

various analytical justifications on which different strands of ‘anti-capitalism’ are

grounded. Wall (2005) and Callinicos (2003) provide useful descriptions of the

various strands of contemporary anti-capitalism, many of which have deep

intellectual roots and histories.

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1. Capitalist class relations perpetuate eliminable forms of human suffering

2. Capitalism blocks the universalisation of conditions for expansive human flourishing

3. Capitalism perpetuates eliminable deficits in individual freedom and autonomy

4. Capitalism violates liberal egalitarian principles of social justice 5. Capitalism is inefficient in certain crucial respects 6. Capitalism has a systemic bias towards consumerism 7. Capitalism is environmentally destructive 8. Capitalist commodification threatens important broadly held values 9. Capitalism in a world of nation states, fuels militarism and

imperialism 10. Capitalism corrodes community 11. Capitalism limits democracy

Fig 1.1: Criticisms of capitalism (Wright 2010).

Whilst Wright corroborates all the above criticisms, there is no doubt that for

many sections of the population, particularly in ‘Western’ countries, capitalism

has also delivered rising standards of living and material wellbeing over the last

century (Smil 2006). However, even if one acknowledges that capitalism has

provided some material benefits (albeit distributed unevenly) there are serious

questions about its ability to keep doing so without undermining the biophysical

conditions which underpin complex industrial society (Jackson 2009).

The perceived ability of capitalism to overcome its internal crises combined with

the collapse of state communism as an alternative form of economic

organisation, led to an intellectual and strategic crisis for the left (Derber 1996).

Indeed, despite the recent global economic crisis some argue that there is still a

lack of clearly articulated alternatives to capitalism (Lerman 2010). This is

perhaps a harsh analysis, but one that reflects the fact that those alternatives that

have emerged have yet to permeate into wider public or political discourse.

Certainly some ‘systemic’ alternatives have been articulated such as Michael

Albert’s (2006) ‘participatory economics’. There has also been an increasing

interest in the potential for capitalism to evolve into a different form of economic

arrangement. It is in this sense that the term postcapitalism is used within this

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thesis: to reflect a process of ‘emergence’ as opposed to systemic rupture and

disjunction. There are several examples of such postcapitalist literature that

departs from an ecological critique of capitalism such as Hawken et al.’s (1999)

Natural Capitalism and Porritt’s (2007) Capitalism as if the World Mattered.

Indeed, it has been argued that ‘economic localisation’ is an emerging form of

alternative political economy (Starr 2000; see also Hess 2009; Schuman 2000

and Hines 2000). This could also be regarded as postcapitalist in the sense being

used here. Thus whilst the terms ‘postcapitalism’ and ‘postcapitalist’ are still

fairly rare they are being used with increasing regularity (e.g. Scott Cato 2006;

Williams 2007; Chatterton and Pickerill 2010). Theories of postcapitalism

therefore have some affinity with the argument that there are different

configurations or ‘varieties’ of capitalism (e.g. Hall and Soskice 2001). However,

postcapitalism goes beyond this by arguing that it is possible to change or reform

key aspects of capitalism in ways that will address some of the critiques set out

in Figure 1.1. Therefore it contains both a fundamental critique but also the

possibility of change.

In recent years a number of different strands of postcapitalist literature has

emerged which is interested in indentifying spaces and institutions that are

‘outside’ or ‘beyond’ capitalism (MacDonald and Ness 2010; Leyshon et al.

2003). Thus, since the 1990s there has been increasing interest in the potential of

the ‘social economy’ as a transformative site (e.g. Bauhaus Dessau Foundation

1996). Ideas that there was an economic space outside the state and the market

first began to become popular in the 1980s and were also connected to practices

of Community Economic Development (CED) and ‘local’ economic self-reliance

(see Bruyn and Meehan 1987). Subsequent strands of ‘radical’ eco-localism also

advocate the potential of the ‘community’ and informal economies (Douthwaite

1996; Trainer 1995). The anti-capitalism of the World Social Forum and the

wider ‘anti-globalisation’ movement – that Another World is Possible – also

reflect a similar form of ‘prefigurative’ grassroots economic activism (Frezzo

and Karides 2006). Such ideas have also fed into the strategies and practices of

the ‘solidarity economy’ in North and South America that have developed in the

last decade (Primavera 2010).

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These different postcapitalist theories all adopt economic ontologies that attempt

to reveal economy activity that is outside the ‘mainstream’ discourses and

models. Such ontologies challenge conventional theories and representations of

‘capitalism’ as all powerful and inevitably oppressive (e.g. Gibson-Graham

2006a). It is argued that recognising the significance of these non-capitalist

institutions and spaces is a precursor for their further expansion. Therefore, in

keeping with their rejection of an overly ‘oppressive’ capitalism such approaches

to postcapitalism also tend to have confidence in the potential of community

organising and ‘grassroots’ institutions. Following Wright (2010) this thesis

adopts the term interstitial to describe such theories of postcapitalism, the belief

that capitalism can be changed from the spaces that exist within or beyond it.

This thesis critically engages with the work of Gibson-Graham who have offered

one of the most complete theorisations of an interstitial postcapitalist approach,

one that combines language politics and community activism. In doing so it

seeks to explore whether the postcapitalist experiments within the case study area

support both their theoretical approach and the underlying economic ontology of

a hybridised and ‘fragile’ capitalism. The thesis therefore explores whether the

case study area provides empirical support for interstitial postcapitalist theories.

The thesis also seeks to explore the uneven geography of postcapitalism, seeking

to understand the way in which different places might produce different kinds of

‘alternative economic spaces’. This is generally absent from the work of Gibson-

Graham (North 2007) and the geography of the ‘social economy’ (a potential

postcapitalist space) is also under-researched (Muñoz 2010). In particular, this

thesis explores an overarching hypothesis that countercultural places might be

productive sites for grassroots forms postcapitalism to emerge and be sustained.

However, the academic literature barely recognises the existence of

countercultural places and provides only limited guidance for how they should be

understood. The thesis therefore also makes a contribution to the theorising of

countercultural places. Indeed, it is a strong argument of the thesis that only by

taking such places seriously as an object of study, and seeking to understand the

processes which shape them, can the relationship with postcapitalist practices be

fully understood.

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In summary then the thesis is an attempt to study the postcapitalist economic

institutions that have emerged within in a particular locality that has a reputation

for ‘alternative’ cultural practices and economic experimentation. It uses the

work of Gibson-Graham as a theoretical starting point to identify such

institutions and explore the extent to which they are tangibly ‘outside’ capitalism.

Furthermore it seeks to test whether the case study supports their particular

approach to interstitial postcapitalism, termed in this thesis, for reasons that will

become clear in Chapter Two, proliferative postcapitalism. However, it is also

sensitive to the specificities of place, and as such seeks to understand the

contextual factors that gave rise to the emergence of ‘alternative’ cultures within

the area and the way in which such processes support or constrain the emergence

of postcapitalism. The specific research questions that it seeks to address are as

detailed in Figure 1.2 below.

Figure 1.2: Research questions

As is evident, each of these links an empirical question with a wider theoretical

debate. In the terminology of Gibson-Graham, this thesis attempts to ‘read for

difference’ by highlighting aspects of the culture and economy that are obscured

by conventional discourses and understand how these inter-relate. Bringing

together these two different sides (an ‘alternative’ place and ‘alternative’

economic spaces) has created its own set of problems, particularly around the

concept of the ‘alternative’ as discussed in the next section.

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1.2 Clarifying concepts: the problem of ‘alternative’

Whilst it could be argued that this research is not ‘fully’ interdisciplinary, it does

not fit easily into a recognised and well-established field of research. Certainly it

does attempt to bring together two different sub-fields of research: the theorising

of contemporary interstitial postcapitalism and countercultural places. Neither of

these have recognised or ‘bounded’ literatures, conceptual languages or

methodological tools. What made this a more difficult endeavour was that these

two sub-fields barely exist in their own rights. Indeed, one of the central

arguments of the thesis is that the existence and complexity of countercultural

places has generally been overlooked. Therefore much of the conceptual

language and literature is not well established or recognised. Understanding this

research as ‘interdisciplinary’ therefore also helps to explain some of the tensions

and difficulties that have been experienced in its development, illustrated in

Figure 1.3 below.

Figure 1.3: Conceptual diagrams of the research process in (A) disciplinary and (B) interdisciplinary research from Oughton and Bracken (2009).

18

The theoretical chapters of the thesis therefore focus on setting out the

conceptual boundaries of the research. This section briefly explores a particular

problem that arose in developing the overall framing of the research – the usage

of the term alternative. The initial title of this PhD was Investigating Alternative

Economic Spaces, inspired as it was by recent geographic interest in this area

(Leyshon et al. 2003). However as the research got underway I was soon

wrestling with the conceptual problems of the ‘alternative’. As I progressed I

came to understand that this was in part due to the fact that the thesis was dealing

with multiple and competing usages of the term. This section therefore explores

some of the meanings of ‘alternative’ and outlines how this particular issue has

been addressed within the thesis.

First and foremost it is argued that the idea of the ‘alternative’ exists only as a

relational concept, in relation to some (often undefined) ‘other’. It is intrinsically

a binary concept. Quite often, this other relates to some conception of the

‘mainstream’ (Atton 2002). Thus Raymond Williams (1973), who provided

perhaps the first definition of ‘alternative’ culture, defined it as a reaction to

dominant, hegemonic cultures. He also made a further distinction between

alternative and oppositional, arguing that

There is a simple theoretical distinction between alternative and oppositional, that is to say between someone who simply finds a different way to live and wishes to be left alone with it and someone who finds a different way to live and wants to change the society in its light.

Williams (1973, 11)

However, Williams himself later blurs this distinction by suggesting that

alternative culture was ‘at its best’ also oppositional culture (Williams 1983).

However, as discussed in Chapter Three, whether oppositional or not, there is a

strong tradition which associates meanings of alternative with the

countercultural.

A second overlapping meaning uses ‘alternative’ to reflect a form of bottom up,

prefigurative approach to social change. In this context ‘alternative’ social

19

movements are those that seek to change society by buildings new institutions

within it, rather than opposing or engaging with existing structure of power

(Collom 2005). This notion of alternative therefore has strong associations with

utopianism and grassroots activism (Parker et al. 2007). A third and related

meaning has close associations with radical or progressive forms of politics (e.g.

Halfacree 2007; Atton 2002). Sometimes the term is used to reflect a broader

‘radical’ theoretical approach, such as in the work of Roberto Unger (1998).

Another example is the paradigm of Alternative Development that emerged in

the 1970s as a critique of mainstream approaches to development (Pieterse

1998).

‘Progressive’ or ‘radical’ connotations of ‘alternative’ are therefore used to

describe different forms of economic theory and organisation that are in

someway perceived to be ‘outside’ the mainstream. The recent interest in

alternative economic spaces (Leyshon et al. 2003; Leyshon 2005; Hughes 2005)

also adopts this particular usage reflecting academic interest in radical spaces

either within, or beyond capitalism (e.g. North 2007; Williams 2007). Indeed,

Gibson Graham (2006b) adopt the term ‘alternative’ within their diverse

economy schematic (see Chapter Two) even though, they themselves do not

define a precise meaning of the term. It is has also been used in this way to

define specific forms of institution, for example, recent interest in Alternative

Food Networks or ‘alternative’ currencies both of which are often conceptualised

as ‘others’ to mainstream ‘systems of provision’. This ‘non-mainstream’

meaning of alternative often leads to debate over the extent to which such

practices embody or reflect other meanings of ‘alternative’ (e.g. radical or

prefigurative) and led to the problematisation of the concept (Watts et al. 2005;

Holloway et al. 2007).

A further distinction can be made between the adoption of alternative as a

theoretical concept within academic work and the way in which it is used in other

arenas and day-to-day life. In discussing the “New Age” (a term that is culturally

sometimes closely linked with “Alternative” cultures, see Chapter Three) Kemp

(2004) makes the useful distinction between emic and etic conceptions. He

distinguishes between scholarly definitions of the ‘New Age’ (etic) and how

20

those who they study might understand it (emic). Understanding this distinction

is significant for this thesis, not only because it touches on ‘New Age’

phenomena, but also because it is also relevant to the study of ‘alternative’ that is

a similarly slippery concept. Indeed, as discussed in chapter 3, there are emic

notions of ‘Alternative Culture’ and an ‘Alternative Movement’ that need to be

acknowledged but which have different meanings to academic usages. These

emic usages reflect the way that specific groups have adopted particular notions

of the ‘alternative’ at specific points in time. Indeed, the temporality of the

‘alternative’ is yet another complicating factor. Not only does its meaning change

over time, but this thesis is potted with examples of ideas and practices which

started out as ‘alternative’ but became mainstream.

It is clear therefore that there is a problem in using a term that, whilst having

great significance to this research, also has overlapping and conflictive meanings.

The usage of the term ‘alternative’ asserts some kind of qualitative difference,

but the nature of that difference can vary significantly. Indeed, the potential

conflict between cultural meanings and economic meanings could lead to

particular confusion. It was for this reason that I have attempted to avoid the term

altogether, although it inevitably creeps in. Instead, the term countercultural is

used to reflect the ‘alternative’ cultural side of research whilst postcapitalist is

used to explore the ‘alternative’ economic side of the research. Both these terms

are therefore etic categories applied to phenomena and data from the field. The

subsequent theory chapters set out more detail how both of these concepts are

framed within the context of this research. The next section briefly introduces the

case study area in which these questions were explored.

1.3 The case study area: Totnes, Devon

This thesis is a case study of a small market town in Devon, England and its

immediate hinterland. Totnes is in the southwest of the UK (see figure 1.4

below) with a population of 8,229 (2004). Devon County Council (2006) identify

a rural hinterland of 14 parishes that combined with the town give a ‘Market

Town’ population of 22,829. Administratively, the town is part of the South

21

Hams District Council, whose offices are based in the town, having lost its

Borough status (and powers) in the local government reorganisation of 1974. The

replacement Totnes Town Council therefore has limited capabilities compared to

the preceding body. The town itself has a long history as a settlement, located as

it is at the lowest crossing point of the river Dart, and was one of the first towns

to be awarded Borough status by King John in 1206. The town had its own mint

in the reign of Edgar (958 – 75) and the first bank (The Totnes Bank) was

established in 1798 (Russell 1963). The name Tot-ness is generally believed to

be Saxon in origin and mean the fort or lookout (‘Tot’) on the nose or ridge of

land (‘ness’). Much of the earliest settlement is therefore located on a steeply

inclined hill which rises above the river Dart and which contains the remains of a

Norman Castle at its apex.

Figure 1.4: Location of Totnes in the UK

As well as functioning as a market town for its immediate hinterland its location

as the highest navigable point of the river Dart provided it with an important

economic role as a site of trade. In the middle ages the town became prosperous

22

on the back of this function as a trading gateway, exporting minerals and cloth

from Dartmoor, whilst also importing goods from continental Europe. Indeed the

history of trade and relations with other places (including attacks from North

African pirates) hints at a place that has been shaped by extensive geographical

relations. These economic relations are also signified by some of the enduring

place names around the town (e.g. Baltic Wharf – where timber used to be

imported from Eastern Europe). The wealth generated by this function is

reflected in the architecture of the merchant’s houses which were constructed

during the 16th and 17th century and of which many examples are preserved (see

Figure 1.5 below).

Figure 1.5: The East gate in Totnes, an archetypal image of the town

23

The arrival of the railways led to the economic decline of Totnes as a trading port

but did not bring new trade to the town (Clifton-Taylor 1978). Ironically it was

this economic decline that led to the preservation of many of the earlier

buildings, as there was little local wealth for redevelopment during the Victorian

era. In the second half of the 19th Century the population of the town fell from

3878 to 3116 and no new houses were built between 1840 and 1914. During this

period then the economy of the town was based around its role as a ‘local’

agricultural centre with some small-scale industry. From the early 20th Century

tourism began to play a part in the economy, with ‘town guides’ for Totnes

dating back to at least 1920. The large employers in the 1950s and 1960s were

Harris’s Bacon Factory, Reeves Timber Yard and Daw’s Creameries all located

within the town centre, along with the cattle-market. The second half of the 20th

century saw a decline in all of these industries. The cattle market moved out of

the town centre in 1962 and later to nearby Newton Abbott. Reeves declined in

the late 1970s whilst a supermarket replaced the Bacon Factory in the early

1990s. Most recently, the Dairy Crest milk processing plant (formerly Daw’s)

closed during my time in the field (2007).

A ‘conventional’ economic reading of Totnes and its hinterland would therefore

point to a number of trends in recent decades. Like many areas of the South

West, the South Hams has experienced ongoing ‘counter-urbanisation’ from

urban areas (Murdoch et al. 2003). Allied to this has been a significant growth in

second-home ownership, to the point whereby the South Hams is the third most

popular area for second homes in the country (Savills 2008). These trends within

the housing market have led a localised crisis in housing affordability against a

number of measures, leading to housing becoming one of the top strategic

priorities of the local authority (South Hams 2006a). Again, like the South West

in general, tourism has become a significant sector in the economy within the

South Hams, with an estimated quarter of employment linked to it (South Hams

District Council 2007). Totnes is geographically close to both the South Hams

Area of Natural Beauty and Dartmoor National Park. The town itself is also a

tourist attraction. Off the back of some of these trends, Totnes itself has evolved

into a ‘specialist’ retail centre (South Hams District Council 2006b). It also

retains a small marine industries sector, and has been recognised as a creative

24

industries ‘hotspot’ (Perfect Moment 2006). Levels of self-employment within

the area are higher than average, as are benefits claimants within the town itself.

Figure 1.6: Totnes ‘twinned with Narnia’ sign Summer 2005 (photo credit: Leo

Trimming)

Whilst Totnes’ reputation as an ‘alternative’ centre appears within various local

discourses, the extent to which its economy might be ‘alternative’ is less widely

discussed. Indeed, as will become clear the alternative cultures can be the object

of derision. The title of the thesis refers to a spoof sign that was put up for a

couple of weeks in Totnes in the summer of 2005, a year or so before this

research started. The amended sign, pictured above (Figure 1.6), is an indication

of its reputation as a centre of ‘New Age’ or ‘Alternative’ cultures, some of

which might be criticised as verging the in the realms of fantasy. As detailed in

Chapter Five, the area was identified as one where there was some history of

‘alternative’ economic experimentation. Understanding what, how, and why such

practices had emerged at this particular place is one of the central purposes of

this thesis. As is the question of the extent to which they have made a material

25

impact, hence the title of the thesis. The final section details how the thesis goes

about answering these questions.

1.4 The structure of the thesis

This final section of the introduction outlines the structure of the rest of the thesis

providing a brief overview of each chapter. Figure 1.7 illustrates overall structure

with the primary theoretical linkages between chapters illustrated by the colour

coding.

Figure 1.7: Structure of thesis

Chapter Two introduces the theoretical work of Gibson-Graham and outlines its

relevance to the thesis. Their specific approach to ‘seeing’ and ‘building’

postcapitalist possibilities is unpacked. The chapter argues that whilst many of

the elements of their approach are not new, it is the way in which they have been

bought together which is the novelty of the Gibson-Graham approach. It then sets

out the particular challenges to the diverse economy approach that can be

explored empirically.

Chapter Three argues the geography of the 1960s Counterculture has generally

been under-researched and where it has been acknowledged it tends to be a fairly

one-dimensional notion. The chapter develops a broader concept of the

Counterculture that extends its normal temporality and conceptualises it as an

26

overlapping set of sub-countercultures. Furthermore, it argues that the notion of

countercultural places is generally under-recognised and under-researched with

the literature offering only partial insights into the nature and construction of

such places.

Chapter Four highlights the type of postcapitalist institutions on which the

research focuses, as well as the academic work which seems to point to a

relationship between countercultural places and postcapitalism. It also reviews

two concepts which have been used in relation to both countercultural places and

postcapitalism and which therefore might have some explanatory purchase:

heterotopia and embeddedness.

Chapter Five sets out the methodological approach adopted for the research.

Overall the research can be regarded as a multi-method case study but with a

strong ethnographic core due to the fact that I lived in the field for the duration of

the empirical work. During this time, as well as utilising more traditional data

collection techniques I also engaged in participatory research with an

experimental ‘postcapitalist’ community currency, the Totnes Pound. The

strengths and weaknesses of the methodology are discussed in this chapter, along

with specific details of the research framework adopted.

Chapter six is the first of three empirical chapters that address the three research

questions set out in Figure 1.2 in turn. This first results chapter sets out to explain

the formation of Totnes as a countercultural place. Drawing on existing strands

of theory about the formation of such places it shows how Totnes has emerged as

a centre of countercultural practice since the 1970s whilst providing some new

theoretical insights into the formation of such places.

Chapter Seven explores the postcapitalist institutions that were ‘discovered’

within the field. As well as providing an overview of the wider postcapitalist

institutional landscape it undertakes a more in-depth exploration of the organic

‘marketscape’ within the locality and the extent to which it supports Gibson-

Graham’s post-structural economic ontology and arguments about proliferative

postcapitalism.

27

The last of the empirical chapters, Chapter Eight, explores the relationship

between countercultural places and postcapitalism. It suggests that

countercultural places are overlooked sites of ‘social innovation’. It also

identifies a central tension within the relationship between countercultural places

and postcapitalist institutions: that the very conditions that support the emergence

of postcapitalist practices (and other forms of social experimentation) are

themselves responsible for undermining the development of such collective

institutions. It outlines the implications this has for those who seek to build

collective economic entities.

Chapter Nine recaps and summarises the research questions. It provides some

concluding reflections on the research before highlighting some future directions

for research, both in terms of further explorations of countercultural places and

theorising interstitial postcapitalism.

28

Chapter 2: Theorising postcapitalist possibility

A central objective of this thesis is to explore the theoretically disputed

boundaries of capitalism and the extent to which place-based postcapitalist

institutions can be developed. This is the central preoccupation of the work of the

post-structural, post-Marxist geographers J.K. Gibson-Graham. Through their

recent work they have attempted to demonstrate the existence and significance of

a wide range of non-capitalist practices and institutions that, they argue, are

obscured by the dominant discourses of the ‘economy’ and ‘capitalism’. Their

work makes an important contribution to the literature, not only by raising

questions about assumptions of capitalist hegemony, but also by opening up

different dimensions of non-capitalism whilst also theorising the possibility of

supporting the development of further postcapitalist economic practices. Gibson-

Graham’s work is central to this thesis because of their focus on the potential of

places to establish postcapitalist economic activities, refusing to accept the

necessity for whole-scale structural / systemic change, or the fact that

‘capitalism’ will always co-opt or undermine non-capitalist activities. It is a core

argument of their work that alternative economic worlds are not only possible,

but that they already exist in the present (Gibson-Graham 2008). Building the

credibility, profile and durability of such postcapitalist worlds is a central pre-

occupation of their work.

The first part of this chapter outlines their theoretical approach, focusing on the

ways in which they theorise the development of interstitial postcapitalist

possibility. It highlights how their approach is based on developing a particular

‘weak theoretical’ economic ontology that informs their work and approach to

building postcapitalist forms. Part Two of the chapter argues that in order to

justify their theory of proliferative postcapitalism, more empirical examples of

postcapitalism ‘in action’ are required. Furthermore, these examples need to be

not only economically significant but also support their particular ontological

approach in the face of a range of challenges which are rooted in competing

structural or systemic conceptions of capitalism.

29

2.1 Theorising interstitial postcapitalism

Alex Callinicos (2003) outlines a range of different types of anti-capitalist

strategy, all of which share the objective of building a form of anti-capitalist

economy (Table 2.1 below).

Table 2.1: Varieties of postcapitalism (adapted from Callinicos 2003)

‘Interstitial’ postcapitalism as used within this thesis could encompass aspects of

both localist and autonomist anti-capitalism (indeed Gibson-Graham’s work has

been described as a form of ‘post-structural’ localism, see Glassman 2003). An

interstitial approach to postcapitalism has its roots in anarchist thinking and

describes

…various kinds of processes that occur in the spaces and cracks within some dominant social structure of power.

Wright (2010, 32

Understood this way, postcapitalist institutions are ‘non-capitalist’ economic

forms that emerge from within a purportedly capitalist context (see Chapter

Four). Williams (2007, 248) therefore argues that contemporary postcapitalist

theorists such as Gibson-Graham are motivated by the

need to recognise, value and create non-capitalist economic practices that are already here and emerging so as to shine a light on the demonstrable construction of alternative possibilities and futures.

30

Interstitial postcapitalist theory suggests that postcapitalist possibility already

exists and, with the right kinds of interventions, can be further developed. It is a

strategy that involves ‘leaving’ capitalism rather than ‘overthrowing’ it and is

based on the central premise that

If we could locate noncapitalist activities here and now, if we could see them as prevalent and sustaining, perhaps we could find more possibilities of participating in the creation. Perhaps too the imagined scale and temporality of socialist politics could undergo a shift, becoming more partial and proximate.

Community Economies Collective (2001, 3)

It therefore argues that development of small-scale grassroots movements,

practices and institutions is an effective mechanism for precipitating wider

systemic change (e.g. Fournier 2002; Hawken 2008). Often, the potentiality of

place is central to many of these movements (Gross 2009) as are discourses of

‘community’. Such interstitial approaches to capitalism have emerged from a

number of different intellectual traditions. Like Gibson-Graham, Holloway

(2005) draws inspiration from a re-reading of Marx. He argues for a strategy of

driving towards ‘self-determination’ that starts with a strategy of disobedience

and insubordination and which explicitly avoids attempting to take power

through control over the state.

A second strand is that which finds its inspiration in grassroots activism and

social movements. Thus interstitial postcapitalism have also proved popular with

other strands of the ‘anti-globalisation’ or ‘global justice’ movement (Starr 2000;

Fournier 2002). Rebecca Solnit (2005) is someone else who has argued for the

potentiality of grassroots social activism, and, similar to Gibson-Graham, about

the importance of optimism and hope within such activities. Another explicitly

‘interstitial’ social movement is the ‘solidarity economy’ movement. This

movement, which has gained some momentum in North and South America

during the last decade, has a strong anti-capitalist ethic and advocates a range of

collective, grassroots methods of organising economic activity (de Sousa Santos

2007; Miller 2004).

31

Those opposing contemporary economic development trajectories from a ‘green’

perspective have also promoted interstitial strategies. For example, Douthwaite

(1996) argues that examples successful community economic initiatives would

give political leaders the confidence to develop and support them further. The

eco-socialist Derek Wall (2005) agrees that projects that work ‘within’ capitalism

can provide inspirational examples of possible alternatives, but that they also

have the potential to lead to self-exploitation. He also suggests that such

strategies need to be ‘amphibious’ in that they are

half in the dirty water of the present but seeking to move on to a new, unexplored territory. Anti-capitalist alternatives should be assessed in terms of the ability to address present concerns but also to move society in a new direction (Wall, 2005, 178).

Other eco-socialists such as Gare (2000) have also argued that capitalism can

also undermined by socioeconomic forms that are created within it, such as the

eco-village movement which Ted Trainer (2000) suggests can act as a catalyst

for wider socio-economic change. What unites these different approaches to

interstitial postcapitalism is that they all put place-based grassroots development

at the heart of their transformative strategies.

Geographers’ interest in interstitial postcapitalism has been reflected in the

conception of Alternative Economic Spaces and Leyshon, Lee and Williams

(2003) suggest that the work of Gibson-Graham has been particularly important

within this strand of work. Gibson-Graham’s work argues for the significance of

non-capitalist economic practices and for the construction of economic

discourses that recognise the existence of a wider form of economy. Their

theoretical approach is set out within a number of journal articles and two books,

the End of Capitalism (As We Knew It) and A Postcapitalist Politics, Gibson-

Graham 2006a and 2006b respectively), 2 Drawing heavily on post-structuralism

and post-Marxism, The End of Capitalism (first published in 1996) is primarily a

deconstructive work which seeks to undermine the discursive power of

‘Capitalism’. This book is addressed primarily at Marxist scholars and criticises 2 For recent journal articles see for example Gibson-Graham (2002, 2005a, 2005b, 2008).

32

them for their role in the portrayal of global capitalism as far-reaching and

unassailable. Gibson-Graham argue that to portray capitalism as all powerful is

not only wrong, but that it also closes down the opportunity for different

economic forms to emerge.

For the purpose of clarity their particular theorisation of interstitial

postcapitalism will be termed (using a term favoured by Gibson-Graham

themselves) proliferative postcapitalism. In other words, it is not anti-capitalist in

a ‘revolutionary’ or reformist sense, in the sense that it advocates or desires the

complete removal and replacement of the capitalist ‘system’. Instead,

proliferative postcapitalism (like other interstitial approaches) argues that

potential exists to transform social and economic relations without the need for

either political revolution or a fundamental, systemic reorganisation of the global

economy.

Gibson-Graham’s approach to postcapitalism is grounded in a particular strand of

post-development that is concerned with discursive analyses of ‘development’

and commodification in order to expose the way in which they are created and

reproduced and open up the possibility of alternative discourses (Escobar 1995;

The Community Economic Collective 2001; Williams 2007). Indeed, Gibson-

Graham’s work on diverse economies has inspired its own strand of work within

economic geography and development (Leyshon et al. 2003; Lee et al. 2004;

Cameron and Gibson 2005; Leyshon 2005; Oberhauser 2005; Samers 2005 St

Martin 2005; McCarthy 2006; Smith and Stenning 2006; Martin 2007; Williams

and Round 2007; Halfacree 2010).

This chapter argues that many aspects of their proliferative approach to

postcapitalism are not new ideas. Indeed it is important to recognise that there is

a long history of interstitial postcapitalist strategies which stretch back at least to

the disagreement between Marx and the Utopian Socialists about whether

capitalism can be reformed by building alternatives within it (Levitas 1990).

What is important about Gibson-Graham’s work is the way in which they

combine various strands of postcapitalist thought and strategy. Firstly, they

combine a range of different non-capitalisms that are often kept discursively and

33

conceptually separate. Secondly, I would argue that their post-structural

approach contains a more explicit strategy than is usually found within the

interstitial postcapitalist literature (Wright 2010). Both of these aspects of their

work are explored in more detail below, starting with the poststructuralist basis

of their work.

2.1.1 A poststructural approach to ‘Capitalism’

Gibson-Graham have suggested that one of the purposes of their first book, the

End of Capitalism, was to open up a space for thinking about ‘non-capitalism’

through the production of a discourse of economic difference that was not

capitalocentric (Gibson-Graham 2006b, xxxiv). To undertake this task they draw

on a number of theoretical tools, most importantly post-structuralism and

feminism(s), whilst also retaining and reworking some key Marxist concepts.

Central to their argument is that within Marxist discourse ‘Capitalism’ is

normally portrayed as unified, total and singular – a situation that has closed

down the possibility of thinking about and instigating alternative economic

strategies:

Calling the economy "capitalist" denies the existence of … diverse economic and class processes, precluding economic diversity in the present and thus making it unlikely in the proximate future ... None of this is to deny the power or even the prevalence of capitalism but to question the presupposition of both. It is legitimate to theorise capitalist hegemony only if such hegemony is delineated in a theoretical field that allows for the possibility of the full co-existence of noncapitalist economic forms. Otherwise capitalist hegemony is a presumption, and one that is politically quite consequential.

(Gibson-Graham 2006a, 262)

Their central argument is that capitalist hegemony is a ‘discursive artefact’

(Gibson-Graham 2006a, 3), which is not as powerful or all embracing as is often

portrayed. However, the implication of the way it is ‘thought’ is that it makes it

difficult for people to imagine its supersession. Further to this, discourse, which

equates ‘capitalism’ with ‘the economy’, obscures the wide range of non-

capitalist economic forms and practices that exist, and thus closes down the

34

possibility of alternative development strategies. Gibson-Graham have

themselves come to call this the ‘diverse economy theory’ (Gibson-Graham

2006b, 60) which, following Eve Sedgwick, they argue is weak theory in that it is

‘little more than description’ and which ‘requires acting as a beginner, refusing

to know to much, allowing success to inspire and failure to educate, refusing to

extend diagnoses too widely or deeply’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b, 8). The

definition of their work as weak theory is one way in which they are able to

defend their project against critics who maintain a belief in a dynamic capitalist

system.

To problematise dominant portrayals of capitalism Gibson-Graham draw on the

anti-essentialism of Laclau and Mouffe (1985) and Althusser (1972). Following

Althusser, they adopt the concept of overdetermination to the economy, and in

doing so attempt to undermine the portrayal of capitalism as a systematic whole

and something that is driven by a set of internal logics and laws which overrides

all other social processes. They argue that overdetermination can be thought of as

the essential complexity – as opposed to root simplicity – of every form of existence; the openness or incompleteness of every identity; the ultimate unfixity of every meaning; and the correlate possibility of conceiving an acentric – Althusser used the term “decentred” – social totality that is not structured by the primacy of any social element or location.


Approaching capitalism from this direction requires us to ‘think about the radical

emptiness of every capitalist instance’ (Gibson-Graham 2006a, 15) and the way

in which

with an overdeterminist strategy we may empty capitalism of its universal attributes and evacuate the essential and invariant logics that allow it to hegemonise the economic and social terrain.


The concept of overdetermination is an important element of the Gibson-Graham

project. By denying that there is a consistent ‘internal’ essence or logic to

35

capitalism that overrides all other social processes, the possibility exists that

alternative economic forms can be built and sustained. There is no inevitable

logical or structural impediment to the creation of alternative economic spaces.

Overdetermination is also used to reflect the inherent complexity of any given

economic moment, and that fact that no particular social process (such as

‘capitalism’) can be seen as more fundamental than any other in determining a

given social outcome.

Overdetermination forms one strand of Gibson-Graham’s attack on

capitalocentrism. This they define as ‘situating capitalism at the centre of

development narratives, thus tending to devalue or marginalize possibilities of

noncapitalist development’ (Gibson-Graham 2006a, 41). Within the End of

Capitalism they deconstruct the discourses of both Globalisation and Post-

Fordism arguing that both denigrate and obscure non-capitalist economic

opportunity. As part of this deconstruction they take issue with common

economic metaphors such as ‘the ladder’ (for progress or development) whilst

also questioning metaphors based on organicism:

In economic development theory as in biology there has been a tendency to run "a steamroller over a labyrinthine pathway that hops from branch to branch through a phylogenetic bush" (Gould 1992: 180) of economic forms. In the process the many capitalist and noncapitalist forms that have co-existed with the "dominant" form have been obliterated from view. This discursive marginalization functions powerfully to constrain the visions and politics of the future


Their challenge to the discursive portrayal of a homogenous capitalism also

draws on feminist re-theorisations of sexual identity. Gibson-Graham suggest

that they are attempting a ‘queering of economic identity’, which entails ‘a

breaking apart of the monolithic significations of capitalism (market / commodity

/ capital) and a liberation of different economic beings and practices’ (Gibson-

Graham 2006a, 146). This strategy is used to argue that globalisation, rather than

being seen as an all encompassing and oppressive process, can in fact be seen as

opening up a range of different development paths and that capitalism has no

essential or coherent identity. This notion is used to challenge the capitalist / non-

36

capitalist binary and to problematise the relationship between the two,

particularly the argument that capitalism necessarily oppresses and subjugates

non-capitalist economic forms. Thus they argue that ‘when capitalism exists as

sameness, non-capitalism can only be subordinated or rendered invisible’

(Gibson-Graham 2006a, 43). Queer theory inspires their attempt to breakdown

the monolithic identity of capitalism and is therefore an important inspiration for

their self-identification as ‘thinkers of political and economic possibility’

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, 1). Such a stance enables them to retain their belief that

capitalism is ‘a set of economic practices scattered over a landscape, rather than a

systematic concentration of power’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b, 2) in the face of

ongoing challenges from colleagues and critics.

Different strands of feminist theory provide inspiration for the diverse economy

project in other ways too. At one level they are inspired by the way in which the

feminist movement has spread as a practice of ‘organisational horizontalism’

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, xxiii), which did not involve formal organisation nor

rely on co-ordinated alliances and actions. Thus they

are intrigued at the way that loosely interrelated struggles and happenings of the feminist movement were capable of mobilizing social transformations at such an unprecedented scale, without resort to a vanguard party or any of the other “necessities” we have come to associate with political organisation.

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, xxiv)

Therefore the resolute optimism of their work - that non-capitalist economic

activity can proliferate as successful place-based initiatives, and is not

fundamentally structurally repressed - has its roots in feminism. Indeed they also

credit the development of feminism as one of the sources of their faith in the

potentiality of ‘modest beginnings and small achievement’ (Gibson-Graham

2006b, 196). One final aspect of feminist academic work that is crucial to the

diverse economy is academic studies on the household economy. Research

undertaken into the size and importance of the household economy is an

37

important buttress to their argument that the economy is more extensive than that

normally associated with capitalocentric discourses.

The household also forms a key site in their reformulation of class. Post-

Marxism inspires Gibson-Graham to reject the standard view of class as ‘a social

group’ (Gibson-Graham 2006a, 49). Instead they develop a concept of class as

the ‘social process of producing and appropriating surplus labour’ (Gibson-

Graham 2006a, 52 emphasis in original). This notion posits that class relation

(and thus exploitation) can occur in a range of different sites (including the

household) and are not restricted the capitalist economy. It also means that

people hold ‘multiple and fractured’ (Gibson-Graham 2006a, 59) class identities.

However, despite being ‘loathe’ (Gibson-Graham 2006a, Ch 1, fn4) to define

‘capitalism’ it is this appropriation of surplus value that reflects the nub of

capitalism that remains after their deconstructive project. Thus in Postcapitalist

Politics they define capitalism as ‘a social relation, or class process, in which non

producers appropriate surplus labour in value form from free wage labourers’

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, xxiv). It is therefore arguable that Gibson-Graham’s

economic ontology consists of a ‘minimalist’ capitalism amongst a much wider

economic landscape, much of which can be, in their eyes, defined as non-

capitalist.

Their work is premised on the argument that economic discourse is performative,

that it shapes the world. Therefore constructing different discourses of the

economy becomes a pre-requisite for the emergence of postcapitalist practices

and institutions. A Postcapitalist Politics (Gibson-Graham 2006b) refines their

central arguments and details their attempts to create alternative economic

discourses through action research. It consciously places their work within the

wider context of a post-Seattle ‘place based globalism’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b,

xxi) that is seeking to develop more just and equitable forms of economy. As

such, the general thrust of Postcapitalist Politics is constructive, having

dismantled ‘capitalism’ as a hegemonic and cohesive system, they set out their

particular vision for the community economy as ‘an ethical and political space of

decision in which negotiations over interdependence take place’ (Gibson-Graham

2006b, 192). Furthermore, through their own action research they explore the

38

processes of ‘economic resubjectification’ that entails individuals ‘seeing’ the

economy differently and constructing different economic identities for

themselves. Therefore there are three important dimensions to the way in which

they theorise the construction of postcapitalist economic practices:

i) The performance of anti-capitalocentric discourse

ii) The resubjectification of economic subjects

iii) The construction of community economies

Each of these processes is now reviewed in more detail below.

(i) Performing anti-capitalocentric discourse

The End of Capitalism leaves capitalism deconstructed but with very little to

replace it. In their work, since the first publication of the book, Gibson-Graham

have been developing to create an anti-capitalocentric discourse ‘in which the

economic landscape is represented and populated by a myriad of contingent

forms and interaction’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b, 54). As they put it themselves:

Since the publication of The End of Capitalism, we have been less concerned with disrupting the performative effects of capitalist representation, and more concerned with putting forward a new economic ontology that could contribute to novel economic performances.

Gibson-Graham (2005, 615)

As the foundation of this new economic ontology, Gibson-Graham developed the

following schematic (Figure 2.1) to illustrate their portrayal of this ‘diverse

economy’.

39

Figure 2.1: The diverse economy (Gibson-Graham 2006b, Figure 19)

This conceptual framework for illuminating economic difference is based on the

three dimensions of Market, Wage and Enterprise (intended to be read

vertically). For each of these ‘practices’ they highlight the multitude of economic

forms that exists ‘outside’ of capitalism, which is reflected by the top row of the

schematic. One aspect of their post-structural critique is that capitalism should be

seen to have an ‘outside’ (Gibson-Graham 2006a, 20). Thus they highlight a

plethora of economic activity that is, according to their definition, not capitalist.

It should be noted that the designation of an activity as ‘non-capitalist’ does not

necessarily mean that it is not exploitative as indicated by the inclusion of slave

labour and theft. They offer a number of anti-capitalocentric readings (of

businesses, individuals, and activities such as childcare) to illustrate their

approach, and their argument is that this approach to conceptualising the

economy

40

proliferates difference in the economic landscape and at the same time calls into question the hegemonic capitalocentric dynamics – mechanistic logics of reproduction, growth, accumulation, commodification, concentration, and centralization – on which capitalism’s naturalness (and naturalized dominance) are grounded.

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, 71)

As such

the language of the diverse economy can be used to explore the multi-dimensional nature of economic existence and the possibilities this creates for political acts of economic transformation.


Gibson-Graham stress that the schematic is only illustrative and contingent and

does not attempt to capture the ‘reality’ of the economy. Instead it provides an

alternative approach to constructing a discourse about the economic interactions

of a given economic unit or site.

The idea that the economy exceeds the ‘narrow’ confines of market transactions

and circuits of capital is not new. In addition to the household and feminist

economics that directly inspire Gibson-Graham, it is an idea that also features in

the work of Karl Polanyi (Polanyi et al. 1957), who pointed to the existence of a

‘substantive’ economy that was unmeasured, often unmonetised, but which

sustained livelihoods. Similarly, the economic historian Fernand Braudel (2002)

develops a threefold typology, of ‘capitalism’, ‘markets’ and ‘everyday life’.

Polanyi and Braudel’s historical analyses leads them both to argue that the rise of

capitalism undermined the non-market economic activity which played an

important part in the construction of many livelihoods. The fact that they make

this argument through a historical-descriptive approach highlights the practical

difficultly of ‘seeing’ hidden economic activity. A central function of Gibson-

Graham’s diverse economy schematic is therefore to make such economic

activity ‘visible’. However, they are not the first theorists to develop such visual

devices to illustrate an economy beyond that which is monetised. Henderson

(1981 [1988]) produced an illustrative economic ‘cake’ which represents a

similar visualisation of the ‘diverse economy’, which predates Gibson-Graham’s

work by some twenty-five years, as illustrated below (fig 2.2).

41

Figure 2.2: Hazel Henderson’s ‘Cake’ showing economic ‘diversity’ (Henderson 1981 [1988])

Similarly, Pearce (2003) offers the diagram below (Figure 2.3) to illustrate a

three sector model of the economy which again is intended to make visible the

‘hidden’ aspects of the economy, in this case the importance of the ‘social

economy’ or ‘third sector’ but also including the economies of the household and

the state. The social economy itself has a history of being proposed as a space of

postcapitalist possibility (Lee 2000; Amin 2009a).

42

Figure 2.3: Three-system approach to conceptualising the economy (Pearce 2003)

These diagrammatic representations illustrate the fundamental problem of

‘seeing’ the wider economy, particularly where it is non-monetised. However,

whilst the diverse economy schematic does help to make the different types of

economic activity visible, it does not provide any particular mechanism by which

the economic significance of non-capitalist economic activity can be evaluated.

This, it is argued needs to be a central feature of anti-capitalocentric discourses,

not only that such practices are part of the economic landscape but that also they

are (or could be) significant. One approach that has been developed within

feminist economics is an evaluation of the time spent on different types of

economic activity, for example Marilyn Waring’s (1989) seminal If Women

Counted. Gibson-Graham do touch on such metrics suggesting that measuring

economic activity ‘in terms of hours worked is one way of showing the capitalist

43

economy in a less extensive role’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b, 68). However, they do

not take this argument further and develop the diverse economy schematic

around a temporal notion of economic value. The question of economic

significance is arguably a key issue with their work and will be returned to later

in the chapter.

Despite its potential problems, the diverse economy schematic is a useful tool for

bringing together a range of different forms of non- and post-capitalism within a

single heuristic framework. It attempts to highlight and combine various

‘economies’ that are obscured from mainstream economic discourse. For

example Langley and Mellor (2002) identify three different ‘economies’ which

are outside the scope of the conventional market but which might also provide

the site for alternative forms of provisioning: (i) domestic – local subsistence;

(iii) abandoned informal; (iii) associational - voluntaristic. All three of these are

encompassed within the diverse economy schematic. An important feature of

their work is therefore to try and bring together different strands of non-

capitalism within a single ‘hybrid’ framework, what has been called a ‘plural

economy’ approach (Amin 2009b). However, as a weak theory of the economy

their diverse economy approach does not presume that relationships between

distinct sites of the diverse economy are structured in predictable ways (Gibson-

Graham 2006b, 77). Whilst they acknowledge the uneven contours and power

relations across any given economy these relationships have yet to have been

explored either empirically or theoretically.

(ii) Processes of economic ‘resubjectification’

Gibson-Graham (2005; 2006b) put the process of individual resubjectification

very much at the heart of their own action research. They discuss this in terms of

a ‘micro-politics’ that enables people to become different kinds of economic

subject and therefore see the economy differently (Gibson-Graham 2006b). Their

action research praxis draw on the Asset Based Community Development

approach of Kretzmann and McKnight (1993), a form of local community

development practice that rejects a needs based approach and instead map the

assets within a given community. This creates a picture of the diversity of the

44

economy within the locality, and can also reveal the multiplicity of individuals’

economic identities. Such a process provides the groundwork for the

‘resubjectification’ of economic subjects and the creation of new economic

identities and practices. Gibson-Graham’s approach to resubjectification draws

its inspiration from the work of Foucault (self-cultivation), Nietzche (self-artisty)

and Varela. This work inspires them to look to both the psychoanalytic and

Buddhist tradition to create strategies that enable the construction of different

subjectivities (Gibson-Graham 2006b, Ch. 6). This enables them to attempt

processes of ‘reframing’ and ‘renarrativising’ that open the possibility of new

economic subjectivities. However, through their work they also come to realise

that ‘the subject is not constituted by language alone’ (Gibson-Graham 2005c,

70). Instead they come to realise that collective practices and sensations are also

important, describing how within of their action research projects the

researchers took a week-long trip to Cape Breton to attend a conference on worker cooperatives, and spent three days listening to stories of workers who appropriated the surplus they produced and distributed it to sustain a community economy. Amid the hilarity in the dormitory and the van, during the sunlit walks, in restaurants and cafes, on the eleven-hour ferry ride, we explored and debated (desultorily) the virtues of worker cooperatives. Fears were spoken and then let go. By the end of the trip, we had produced several fantasies of communal enterprises and the social life they might enable, as a way of performing and acknowledging our temporary, satisfying collectivist.

(Gibson-Graham 2005c, 70)

Gibson-Graham reject the criticism that this process is manipulative with the

argument that it is ‘ethical political action’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b, 133). Their

own action research therefore entails them trying to work with communities to

‘see’ the local economy differently and to develop new forms of economic

organisation. This is also a process through which they go themselves, describing

it as:

45

The co-implicated process of changing ourselves / changing our thinking / changing the world are what we describe as ethical practice. If politics involves taking transformative decisions in a undecideable terrain, ethics is the continual exercising of a choice to be / act / or think in certain ways.

(Gibson-Graham 2008, 618)

Within their work they discuss their experiences of undertaking action research

to build the community economy in Australia, the United States and Papua New

Guinea.

The importance of economic resubjectification is also emphasised within other

strands of postcapitalist literature, although not from a post-structuralist

perspective. Ted Trainer (1995) argues that a shift in people’s values is the most

important requirement in building his vision of a ‘conserver society’. Korten

(1999) draws on the Buddhist notion of ‘mindfulness’, whilst the ecological

economists Daly and Cobb (1989) also talk about the necessary change in terms

of a ‘religious’ shift. A focus on developing economic subjects who are not

orientated towards material accumulation and consumption is a strong theme of

some of the ecologically rooted postcapitalist literature (e.g. Douthwaite 1996;

Trainer 1995; Shiva 2006). The idea here is that the consumption, in the form of

consumer ethic, is a corollary of the profit motive of businesses, that a consumer

ethic is part of the ‘drive’ of capitalism (Barber 2007). Thus it is argued that

individuals need to reject material acquisitiveness and develop a sense of

‘enough’ (Meadows et al. 2005). Some have argued that such ‘post-materialism’

is in fact a growing feature of affluent countries (Inglehart 1990; Ray and

Anderson 2000; Schwarz and Schwartz 1998). In keeping with post-Marxist

roots of their work, Gibson-Graham’s concept of resubjectification tends to focus

on labour and productive aspects of economic identity. They have little to say

about resubjectification in terms of economic subjects as consumers, save for

noting some difficulty in encouraging subjects to forgo consumption within their

own community economic projects (Gibson-Graham 2005a).

46

(iii) Building ‘community economies’

As described in the previous section, within the work of Gibson-Graham the

process of shifting individual economic subjectivities is actually a collective

process. Indeed, they develop the idea of postcapitalist collective entities using

the term ‘community economies.’ This element of their project is underpinned by

what they call a ‘politics of the here and now’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b, xxvi

emphasis in original) based on four key principles:

• Centrality of subjects and ethical practices of self-cultivation; • The role of place as a site of becoming, and as the ground of a global

politics of local transformations; • The uneven spatiality and negotiability of power, which is always

available to be skirted, marshalled or redirected through ethical practices of freedom; and

• The everyday temporality of change and the vision of transformation as a continual struggle to change subjects, places, and conditions of life under inherited circumstances of difficulty and uncertainty.

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, xxvi)

Gibson-Graham describe their notion of the community economy as an ‘ethical

and political space of decision in which negotiations over interdependence take

place’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b, 192). A more recent definition stresses the

democratic nature of community economies, which they suggest are

…simply economic spaces or networks in which relations of interdependence are democratically negotiated by participating individuals and organizations


They set out four co-ordinates around which such negotiations should take place:

• What is necessary to personal and social survival; • How social surplus is appropriated and distributed; • Whether and how a social surplus is to be produced and consumed; and • How a commons is produced and sustained.

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, 88, emphasis in original)

47

These four co-ordinates form the parameters of what they call an ‘ethical praxis

of being in common’ (ibid). ‘Being in common’ is a concept that Gibson-Graham

borrow from Jean-Luc Nancy (1991a; 1991b) which is intended to liberate

‘community’ from its ‘traditional recourse to common being’ (Gibson-Graham

2006b, 85). Instead ‘being in common’ is intended to reflect an ethic of co-

existence and interdependence, rather than a normative (and potentially stifling)

ideal of what community should be. The potentiality of being-in-common

combined with the designation of the community economy as an ethical space of

decision-making, are the means by which Gibson-Graham avoid proscribing an

‘ideal type’ community economy and, in keeping with the wider arguments of

their diverse economy theory, allow for the possibility of different community

economies to emerge based on different sets of negotiations. This, they contend,

is a different approach to other discourses of the community economy which tend

to be premised on a sense of ‘common being’ and which often position the

community economy as the other to the ‘real economy’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b,

86).

Despite this nuanced understanding of ‘community’ there is no doubt that

Gibson-Graham’s community economy is very much based around the potential

of place-based community based collective forms of economic activity. Gibson-

Graham take particular inspiration from the Mondragón Co-operatives of the

Basque region of Spain. This, they contend, is a fine example of an ‘intentional

economy’, a project which treats the economy as a political and ethical space of

decision (Gibson-Graham 2006b, 101). Thus when discussing the tensions

between the values of Mondragón and the imperatives of competing in the global

market they frame this as a process of ethical discussion. What particularly

inspires them about Mondragón is the way in which the surplus produced by the

co-operatives is distributed:

The process of marshalling surplus and directing it towards the expansion of a co-operative economy is intricately connected with the becoming of ethical communal subjects. Indeed Mondragón’s greatest achievement could be seen as the construction of communal subjects via methods that operate on a range of material, social cultural and spiritual levels, but

48

especially through the experience of ethical decision making around issues of individualism and collectivity.


Within their work Gibson-Graham draw on Gunn and Gunn’s (1991) notion of

social surplus, which can be understood as

…a broad term for what is also known as surplus product, or surplus value. By calling surplus “social”, we hope to raise questions in readers’ minds about how surplus is created, appropriated and distributed under various economic systems and in specific communities within them. The conceptual category of social surplus is generally applied at broad levels of social and economic aggregation. Using it in analyzing economic activity of smaller territorial and juristic levels can shed light on the development challenges they face.

Gunn and Gunn (1991, 5 - 6)

So whilst the diverse economy contains several categories of economic activity

that do not involve engaging with circuits of financial capital, their concept of the

community economy is very much concerned with the equitable distribution of

economic surplus. Gibson-Graham acknowledge that the construction of a

community economy is an active process which ‘needs to be sustained by the

continual work of making and remaking a space for it to exist in the face of what

threatens to undermine and destroy it’ (Gibson-Graham 2006b, xxvii). They

acknowledge that their own action research is an attempt to construct such

‘spaces’, and that such spaces can disappear once their action research is over

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, 162). In practice, the construction of such economic

spaces is therefore rooted in places and associated ideas of geographic

communities. This is in keeping with their faith that ‘if we are to enact new

economies, we need to imagine “the economy” differently – as something that is

created in specific geographical contexts and historically path–dependent ways’

(Gibson-Graham 2006b, 54).

Gibson-Graham acknowledge that they are not the only theorists who drawn on

the concept of a ‘community economy’ as a space of economic potentiality (e.g.

Pearce 1993; Dauncey 1988; Curtis 2003; Imbrosico 1997). However, Gibson-

49

Graham object to the way in which the term is often used to describe an ‘other’

economy to the mainstream (e.g. Douthwaite 1996; Curtis 2003). Despite their

attempts to distance themselves from what they consider are ‘normative’ usages

of the term, it is arguable that Gibson-Graham’s work is far closer to much of

this literature than they acknowledge. Not only is the community economy often

theorised as a ‘non-capitalist’ place based phenomena, but many of the other

accounts of the community economy promote the same kind of economic

practices and institutions as Gibson-Graham. Effectively, Gibson-Graham’s

strategy for interstitial postcapitalism is premised on the development of forms of

co-operative economic activity, albeit one which starts from a different

philosophical and theoretical position.

2.1.2 Summary of Part One

This section has introduced the theoretical work of J.K. Gibson-Graham and

argued that they represent one of the most fully developed theorisations of place-

based postcapitalism that have emerged in recent years. Their work offers a

broad flexible framework for exploring the potential of places to create

alternative economic spaces. Much of the diverse economies project builds on

work that has been undertaken within a range of different fields as their

bibliography illustrates (see Gibson-Graham 2008). There are longstanding

arguments for a ‘wider’ conception of the ‘economic’ rooted in a range of

disciplines and philosophies. Similarly, the emphasis on co-operatives as a

strategy for economic reform is not new. However, their project does make some

novel contributions to the theorising of postcapitalism. Their diverse economies

approach highlights the importance of ‘language politics’ and the importance of

‘seeing’ different practices and institutions as a precursor to change. Their

diverse economies approach also offers a way of breaking down a simple

capitalist / non-capitalist binary, opening up a range of different postcapitalist

possibilities. As such they offer a ‘hybrid’ economic ontology that brings

together a diversity of non-capitalisms that are entwined with capitalist processes

(Wright 2010). It has been argued that their contribution is not so much in any

given element of their approach but in the way that they have brought them

together.

50

In summary, their proliferative postcapitalism offers a competing ‘economic

imaginary’ (Jessop 2004) to more structuralist conceptions of the economy and

capitalism. This economic imaginary is central to their approach to changing

capitalism. Their weak theoretical approach and ‘minimalist’ conception of

capitalism underpin the way in which they approach the possibility of building

postcapitalist practices and possibilities, arguing that over-theorising capitalism

is itself a barrier to creating new possibilities. However, there have been few

critical assessments of this theoretical approach to postcapitalism (Williams and

Rounds 2008). The next section of this chapter sets out the challenges that

proliferative postcapitalism must face in order to justify itself in the face of

critiques that conceptualise capitalism in different ways and thus propose

competing anti-capitalist strategies.

2.2 Challenges to proliferative postcapitalism

It was argued in the previous section that many elements of Gibson-Graham’s

proliferative postcapitalist project are not new. Both interstitial strategies and

debates about the potential of ‘marginal’ or ‘grassroots’ economic activity have

long histories. Indeed, the untapped potential of the ‘informal’ economy seems to

be rediscovered with unerring regularity. For example, Redclift and Mingione

(1985) highlight the emergence of a ‘marginality debate’ within development

discourses of the 1970s that focused on the economic opportunities offered by

the ‘informal’ economy. They observe that the early 1980s economic recessions

led to a rediscovery of a world of work ‘outside’ capitalist relations in

industrialised economies and debates to its significance (e.g. Hardy 1986). Thus

they suggest that

These new structures of work and employment are seen by some as the vanguard of an alternative life-style, and by other as exploited by and subordinated to capital

Redclift and Mingione (1985, 4)

51

Similarly, in the 1990s there was much interested in ‘alternative local economies’

based around LETS currencies, co-operatives and credit unions, which it was

argued represented some kind of potential autonomous economy (Dickens 1996,

194; Dobson 1993). Arguably, Gibson-Graham’s work reflects one of the most

recent iterations of this ongoing debate about the significance of ‘marginal’

economic activity (Williams and Rounds 2008) although, as argued above, their

framework attempts to extend beyond the informal economy and hybridise it

with the social and ‘ethical’ non-capitalism(s). However, the relationship

between such activities and ‘capitalism’ remains highly contested, with critics

often pointing to the parallels between such ‘self-help’ projects and the tenets of

neo-liberalism (Davis 2006). Thorne (1996) characterises this as a debate about

whether the informal economy is a site of emancipation or immiseration.

Perhaps unsurprisingly therefore, the Gibson-Graham project has attracted both

supporters and critics (Rutland 2006). This section sets out some of the most

pressing challenges that their particular variety of proliferative postcapitalism

must overcome in order to substantiate its aspiration to become a more widely

used theoretical and practical approach. In essence the overarching challenge is

to provide more empirical evidence that substantiates their particular economic

ontology. It is a central contention of their work that there is an existing

proliferation of postcapitalist practices and institutions that are obscured by

conventional economic discourses. However, through their own action research,

they have failed to sustain economically viable alternative practices in

‘developed’ countries. They generally defend themselves against such

shortcomings by their attitude towards failure that distinguishes between

possibility and probability (Gibson-Graham 2006a xxxi). In other words, just

because certain things often fail it doesn’t mean that they will always fail.

Similarly, they argue that ‘strong theory’ is based on a certain paranoid stance

that means that

Experimental forays into building new economies are likely to be dismissed as capitalism in another guise, or as always already co-opted; they are often judged as inadequate before they are explored in all their complexity and incoherence.

52


However, it is contented here that theory of proliferative postcapitalism must be

underpinned by ‘solid, liveable alternatives to neo-liberal globalisation’ (Wall

2005, 172). In other words, there needs to be a strong empirical basis to their

postcapitalist optimism. Indeed, it is a weakness that they use Mondragón as

their ‘exemplar’ of a community economy, bearing in mind that it is a ‘sacred

cow’ of the Left (Pepper 1993, 241), which appears regularly within the literature

which advocates place-based postcapitalist possibility (e.g. Sale 1980; Dauncey

1988; Douthwaite 1996; Imbroscio 1997; Shuman 2000; Starr 2000). A central

purpose of this thesis is therefore to explore the extent to which the Totnes area

might provide a different empirical example that supports Gibson-Graham’s

proliferative postcapitalism. However, this section now highlights four specific

challenges that such examples must overcome.

2.2.1 Economic significance

The Gibson-Graham project is based on the premise that there is a proliferation

of economic activity that is economically significant but unseen by conventional

economic discourse. It is a central element of their project to contest the common

assumption that such practices are economically marginal. For example, in a

recent paper they make the following claim:

What is intriguing, however, is that ‘marginal’ economic practices and forms of enterprise are actually more prevalent, and account for more hours worked and/or more value produced, than the capitalist sector.

Gibson-Graham (2008, 617)

To sustain this argument they draw on a number of different enumerative

techniques:

• Estimated financial replacement value in dollars of unpaid household

labour in the US

• Global Employment levels within co-operatives

53

• Numbers of community initiatives and participants (Community

Supported Farming / Community currencies)

• Estimated GDP of the Social Economy in Europe

It is clear that Gibson-Graham are here adopting multiple metrics of economic

significance to bolster their argument. Indeed it might be argued that they

actually switch between different ‘economies’. After presenting the above

evidence for the economic significance of diverse economic practices they go on

to suggest that

Many more economic activities and movements could be included in this list, including squatter, slum-dweller, landless and co-housing movements, the global ecovillage movement, fair trade, economic self-determination, the relocalization movement, community-based resource management, and others. But their status as marginal and unconvincing is difficult to budge. It is here that we confront a choice: to continue to marginalize (by ignoring or disparaging) the plethora of hidden and alternative economic activities that contribute to social well-being and environmental regeneration, or to make them the focus of our research and teaching in order to make them more ‘real’, more credible, more viable as objects of policy and activism, more present as everyday realities that touch all our lives and dynamically shape our futures.

Gibson-Graham (2008, 617 – 8)

Here the significance of practices being referenced not to their economic value

but on their contribution to social wellbeing and environmental wellbeing. This

is, I would argue, a fundamentally different argument to saying that non-

capitalist practices are economically significant. This is suggesting that these

practices are socially and environmentally significant. It relates to longstanding

arguments that indicators of wellbeing are a better measure of progress than

simple notions of economic development such as GDP (Layard 2005). However

the point of such indicators is that they are alternative forms of enumeration that

go beyond simple economic enumeration. In other words, it is a separate debate

about how we evaluate economic activity that relates to arguments around a

‘triple bottom line’.

54

A key problem with Gibson-Graham’s weak theory is therefore that it does not

provide the tools to establish the economic significance of non-capitalist

practices. The way in which the diverse economy is presented categorically (see

Figure 2.1 above) is of no assistance here, giving as it does equal symbolic

significance to each different type of non-capitalist practice. Indeed to some

extent it could even be regarded as a rhetorical device that visually presents the

non-capitalist economy as ‘bigger’ than the capitalist economy.3 A similar point

could be made about the diverse economies they present in a Postcapitalist

Politics (Gibson-Graham 2006b, pp. 75-76). The schematic gives equal symbolic

weighting to different categories of economic activity without actually exploring

their differing economic significance. It is suggested here that the question of

significance is fundamental to the argument that postcapitalist practices are of

relevance. As Jessop (2004, 4) has argued, material economic significance is

central to the implementation of competing ‘economic imaginaries’:

these imaginaries must have some significant, albeit necessarily partial, correspondence to real material interdependencies in the actual existing economy and/or in relation between economic and extra-economic activities

Without justifying the significance of non-capitalist activities they are open to

the charge that they are only romanticizing informal economic practices and

institutions (Samers 2005). However, their work does offer one broad way that

the economic significance of non-capitalist practices can be empirically explored:

the extent that they contribute to individuals’ livelihoods. As Gibson-Graham

have previously argued, their interest in community economies is based on their

ability to

3 Indeed all three figures in this chapter use a form of visual representation to suggest that the ‘size’ of the non-capitalist economy is significant. Another such device used by Gibson-Graham is the ‘iceberg’ drawn by Ken Byrne. This portrays capitalism as the ‘ice’ above the water, supported by a much larger area of hidden non-capitalist practices below the water (See Gibson-Graham N.D).

55

sustain lives and maintain wellbeing directly (without resort to the circuitous mechanisms of capitalist industrialisation and income trickle-down)’


Therefore the extent to which non-capitalist practices and institutions sustain

livelihoods is one broad measure of economic significance that can be applied to

different practices and institutions. Indeed, this justification can be found in

research that has adopted the diverse economies approach (e.g. McKay et al.

2007; Graham and Cornwell 2009) albeit measured in financial terms.

2.2.2 Transcending the institutional context

Much of the critique of Gibson-Graham’s diverse economy theory is focused on

their refusal to theorise wider systemic or structural aspects of the economy. As

detailed above, their whole approach to postcapitalist possibility is based on a

refusal to extend theory too far. For example, they have also been criticised for

failing to deal with the issue of the relationship between the state and economic

practices (Kelly 2005). This is despite the fact they have recognised the

importance of the local state in sustaining the economic practices that they have

cultivated through their own action research (Gibson-Graham 2002). Amin et al.

(2002; 2003) have argued that the state plays a crucial role in underpinning the

social economy. Others, such as Frankel (1987) also suggest that the role of the

state is often under-theorised by those who propose small-scale alternatives and

that the relationship between welfare provision and the wider economy is often

overlooked.

Their commitment to weak theory also leads them to refuse to theorise wider

institutional features to the economy. As such, their work does not acknowledge

the existence of what the development economist Manfred Max-Neef (1991)

calls the ‘macro-micro articulation’ - the way in which a particular macro-

economic ‘system’ supports or undermines the development of localised

practices. Whilst such a binary might be simplistic it does draw attention to the

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way in which ‘non-local’ factors shape ‘local’ economic possibilities. Thus some

postcapitalist theorists would argue that the ‘institutional framework does set the

parameters within which social action takes place’ (Fotopoulos 2000, 292). Thus

Lawson (2005) has argued that there is a need to understand the relationship

between the ‘alternative’ economic practices which Gibson-Graham advocate

and wider global economic processes. Tonkiss (2008) points out that they ‘define

out’ the most dynamic and complicated sector of the capitalist economy from

their theoretical work – financial capitalism. This not only makes their

minimalist conception of capitalism harder to defend, but also means that the

opportunity to explore how aspects of financial ‘capitalism’ might support non-

capitalist practices is not taken up. It is therefore a theoretical challenge to the

Gibson-Graham project to defend the position that institutional analysis and

reform is not a necessary precondition for the building of economically

significant postcapitalist forms as others have argued (e.g. Magnuson 2008). The

interplay between institutional context and local possibility is therefore of

ongoing interest in theorising the limits of grassroots postcapitalist possibility

(Amin 2009a).

2.2.3 Resisting systemic tendencies

Gibson-Graham’s weak theory also leads them to reject the idea of ‘systemic’

capitalist dynamics that are found in Marxist accounts of capitalism (Callinicos

2003). As such they do not recognise the existence of systemic tendencies that

might undermine postcapitalist possibilities. Their refusal to theorise a wider

capitalist economic ‘system’ reflects the key philosophical difference with

structuralist Marxist approaches to capitalism. For example, Glassman (2003)

follows Isaac’s (1987) idea of “power to” to describe the structural power of

‘capitalists’ who he says

…do not just dominate workers as one group of persons dominating another. Rather, the ability of capitalists to collectively dominate workers - which is always contested and in need of re-creation - resides in their capacity to exploit workers through control over investment decisions upon which workers and others in society are dependent, a capacity that is inscribed in legal structures, customary practice, institutions of repressive force and networks of social relations.

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Glassman (2003, 692) goes on to critique Gibson-Graham’s interpretation of

overdetermination which he suggests, is actually rooted in a structuralist

ontology and which actually is intended to mean that

The struggle to produce class transformation is itself simultaneously a political, cultural, ideological and – it must be added, against a culpable historical Marxist silence – gendered and racialized struggle, within and against specific crystallized forms of power.

For critics of a structuralist persuasion, small-scale non-capitalist experiments are

doomed to fail (Fotopoulos 2000). For example, Harvey has argued against the

potential of ‘local’ resistance to capitalism from a more orthodox Marxist

perspective, both through his notion of ‘militant particularism’ (Harvey 1996)

and more recently through his critique of spatial utopias (Harvey 2000), which,

he argues, inevitably get perverted by compromising with the social processes

that they are supposed to control. This is the argument that non-capitalist or

‘alternative’ economic spaces are always under threat or co-option. Certainly

some research has pointed to their fragility of such practices and the fact that

they are often under threat from wider economic processes or ‘incorporation’

into the ‘mainstream’ (Seyfang 2001; Crewe et al. 2003; Renard 2003; Renting

et al. 2003). Indeed, different ‘readings’ of the Mondragón Co-operatives have

pointed to the economic pressures that it has been subjected to in recent years.

Pepper (1993, 241) quotes Encel (1990) who suggests that

Mondragón, like so many similar, if less ambitious schemes, has experienced the phenomenon of ‘goal displacement’. From an attempt to rehabilitate the devastated Basque community after the Spanish civil war has now come a set of businesses dedicated to survival on the basis of capitalist economic premises. The wage differentials have eroded from 1:3 to 1:6-7, for example. There is insufficient reinvestment of profits in the social structure, while the further education institution now just teaches technical skills not the value of cooperation.

It could be argued that it is the global capitalist markets in which Mondragón

operates that have exerted the above pressures on it. Such a position reflects a

belief in the existence of a ‘market system’ that

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…leads to capitalism because firms have an incentive to invest in new technology to produce cheaper goods to undercut rivals and maintain profits

Wall (2005, 9 - 11)

History has shown that over a given period of time, the operation of competitive

markets has a deflationary effect on prices driven by innovation and competition

(Smil 2006). Under such competitive conditions it might become increasingly

difficult for ‘non-capitalist’ businesses to balance their ethics and their

profitability. Markets can also undermine the possibilities of grassroots self-help

(Davis 2006). Gibson-Graham (2006b, 62) assert that ‘…not all markets are

where capitalist commodities are exchanged and not all commodities transacted

in formal markets are produced by capitalist firms. However, the do not go on to

elaborate a clear theoretical distinction between capitalist and non-capitalist

markets, despite the distinction within their diverse economy schematic. Their

economic ontology does not therefore accept the argument that markets tend to

evolve into ‘capitalism’, where they are dominated by a handful of larger firms.

However, nor do they provide examples of how and where such market

dynamics can be resisted, along with the other systemic economic tendencies.

2.2.4 Postcapitalist coherence

The notion of ‘coherence’ is being used here to highlight the co-ordination

between different elements of the economy between actors and institutions and

the extent to which they connect and hang together. Thus

Economic geographies are circuits of consumption, exchange and production sustained over space and through time….However all economies and economic geographies are both material and social constructs

Leyshon and Lee (2003, 8 emphasis in original) Gibson-Graham (2006b, 69) suggest that the diverse economy theory is grounded

on their particular concept of the economy in which ‘values’ are produced,

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exchanged and distributed within social circuits. The argument here is that for

such circuits to reflect postcapitalist spaces they must cohere into circuits that

connect different postcapitalist actors, practices and institutions and which are

maintained over time.

For example, Tonkiss (2008) criticizes their use of the Republic of Kiribati as an

example of postcapitalist possibility, on the basis that it derives significant

income from offshore funds and investments in international financial markets.

This relates to a wider argument that postcapitalist non-market economic activity

is actually underpinned by economic value that is generated through market

transactions. For example, Frankel (1987, 46) suggests that:

[I]t would be romantic to believe that current informal practices constitute the basis of a massive demarketized sector along the lines envisaged by post-industrial theorists and members of the environmental movements. Nearly all the current forms of cashless transactions depend directly or indirectly on income derived from the formal market or state sectors (that is, from individuals receiving all or part of their sustenance in money form). Moreover, these alternative urban communes, craft centre, etc., have limited market and non-market viability; a proliferation of cafes, repair shops, craft centres and other alternative institutions would be very difficult to sustain in most capitalist cities. Most existing alternative enterprises barely survive; this very delicate informal economy could not possibly support a flood of new entrants.

Amin et al. (2002) also suggest that wealth is the most significant in influencing

whether the social economy of a given locality flourishes. If purportedly non-

capitalist activity is dependent on the wealth generated in the capitalist economy,

then it might undermine Gibson-Graham’s argument that these practices

represent genuinely viable alternatives. The challenge is therefore not only to

construct novel circuits of value, but circuits that are also defensibly ‘outside’

capitalism. If postcapitalist practices and institutions do not ‘cohere’ in this way

then it becomes hard to defend the argument that they are interstitial. Whilst

Gibson-Graham highlight many ways that it is possible to get ‘outside’

capitalism it seems necessary for these instances to ‘join up’. Otherwise, the

competing arguments – that postcapitalism exists only on the ‘cracks’ of

capitalism, or that it is often underpinned by ‘capitalist’ wealth – becomes more

convincing.

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2.3 Concluding remarks

This chapter has explored the theoretical work of J.K Gibson-Graham, whom it

argues, have made an important recent contribution to theorising the

development of place-based interstitial postcapitalism. It argues that their work

on proliferative postcapitalism is important for a number of reasons. Firstly, it

challenges the idea of a mono-cultural capitalist economy and opens up the

different ways in which non-capitalism can be empirically explored. Their

diverse economy brings together a range of different economic institutions,

practices and relationships that can be ‘outside’ capitalism. As such it

problematises capitalist hegemony and offers a conceptual framework for

exploring potentially postcapitalist spaces. Their work brings together a breadth

of ‘non-capitalisms’ in a way that had not been done before. Furthermore, their

work offers some theoretical basis for how such spaces are constructed. Their

approach is based on the combination of language politics, individual re-

subjectification and community economic development. Again, the strength of

their work is not that their advocacy of these processes is novel, but the way in

which Gibson-Graham bring them together. As such they offer a novel form of

economic ontology that leads to a different set of potential interventions. As one

of their intellectual inspirations has argued

there is a tight connection between social reality, the theoretical framework that we use to interpret it, and the sense of politics and hope that emerges from such an understanding

Escobar (2004, 349)

In other words, the way in which you conceptualise capitalism implicitly affects

the ways in which it might be changed. However, the chapter has also argued that

in order to justify their particular ‘economic imaginary’ there is a need for more

empirical examples of postcapitalism ‘in action’. Such examples need not only to

support the argument that such practices and institutions are economically

significant but also rebut some of the structural and institutional challenges that

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can be made to their theoretical approach. As Glassman (2003, 693) has argued,

Gibson-Graham need to

show that the strategies she promotes as alternative versions of revolutionary practice can actually change the structural, class relations of interest to leftists. If this were to prove possible, then leftists might quite reasonably adopt such “small” and “local” strategies as part of a larger project of transforming capitalist society into something else.

This is therefore not just an abstract theoretical debate. It has direct relevance to

the different postcapitalist strategies that might be engaged in to build different

kinds of economy. This chapter has argued that in order for Gibson-Graham’s

approach to gain credibility in the way that Gibson-Graham (2008) aspire, other

‘existing’ examples of postcapitalism need to be explored. Such examples will

also contribute to a greater understanding of the ‘uneven’ geography of

postcapitalist possibility, something that is generally absent from their work. This

thesis is particularly interested in the relationship between grassroots

postcapitalism and countercultural places. The next chapter sets out how we

might start to think about such places.

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Chapter 3: Exploring Countercultural Places

This chapter discusses and explores the concept of a ‘Countercultural’ place. One

overarching ‘hypothesis’ that the thesis is exploring is that some places might be

more productive for the emergence of postcapitalist institutions. As highlighted

in the next chapter, there is also some evidence that ‘alternative’ or

Countercultural places would fall into this category. However, there is little

academic work which explores the nature or emergence of such places. Such

places appear to be generally unrecognised within the academic literature and are

consequently under-researched. Furthermore, when they have been the focus of

research it tends to be with narrow theoretical lenses that generally obscures the

wider countercultural connection. Part One of the chapter therefore develops the

argument for a broader understanding of the Counterculture as an ongoing socio-

cultural reaction to ‘industrial modernity’ which began in the 1960s and which

consists of a number of overlapping strands. Part Two then argues that research

that engaged with notions of Countercultural place has tended to focus on only

aspects of this wider conception, or have ignored key aspects of it. Finally, it

argues that research that does recognise the existence of Countercultural places

has not specifically addressed the processes that ‘construct’ such places.

3.1 Opening up the Counterculture

3.1.1 ‘The Counterculture’ and countercultures

It is important to set out how this thesis is using the term ‘Counterculture’. A

starting point is to distinguish between (small ‘c’) countercultures as a socio-

cultural phenomena and the (big ‘C’) Counterculture as a specific historic

process. Throughout history there are many examples of countercultures - groups

which sought actively to resist the ‘mainstream’ or ‘conventional’ values and

norms of the society that they inhabited (Musgrove 1974; Goffman and Joy

2005). This highlights two important fundamental features of countercultures.

Firstly they are collective phenomena and secondly, they are ‘oppositional’ and

intrinsically relational:

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As expressions of norms and values sharply at variance with those of society at large, countercultures tend to be defined, both by themselves and by others, as much by what they are set against as by their own normative system.

Yinger (1982, 41)

They are groups that emerge in opposition to institutions, practices or values of

their society in which they exist. The other key commonality of countercultures

is therefore some processes of transgression. It is for this reason that

countercultures are sometimes associated with criminality or deviance and that

some sociologists recognise the existence of ‘criminal’ countercultures (Yinger

1982). Goffman and Joy (2005) suggest that there are three meta values that can

distinguish countercultures from the mainstream, subcultures, religious and

ethnic minorities and non-countercultural dissident groups:

• Countercultures assign primacy to individuality at the expense of social

conventions and government constraints

• Countercultures challenge authoritarianism in both obvious and subtle

forms

• Countercultures embrace individual and social change

Goffman and Joy (2005, 29)

They go on to add that the history of countercultures could also be considered a

history of ‘freethinkers’ and ‘free thought’.

Some confusion can arise between discussions of countercultures as a

generalised historic form and the ‘Counterculture’ – a specific historic movement

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that gave birth to the term itself (see Roszak 1970). As understood within this

thesis, the latter term refers to the specific set of countercultural movements,

practices and institutions that emerged in the 1960s, particularly (but not

exclusively) in the United States and Western Europe.4 Inevitably there are many

possible readings and constructions of the Counterculture as a socio-political

moment that can make sweeping generalisations problematic. In particular, the

impact and legacy of the Counterculture are particularly contested (Watts 2001).

However, within this thesis it is broadly conceived as a utopian reaction to

‘advanced’ capitalist industrial modernity. Some key elements of this reaction

are sketched out below.

Firstly, the Counterculture was a cultural rebellion that was rooted in the affluent

middle classes, particularly the younger generations that had benefited from the

expansion of higher education and post-war capitalist expansion. As Suri (2009)

points out, those involved in the Counterculture were not predominately the

dispossessed demanding more access to resources or on the cultural fringe

searching for freedom; they were the empowered, questioning their own power.

It was this paradox which caught the social theorists of the time off-guard, and

led Daniel Bell (1976) to develop his thesis regarding the cultural contradictions

of capitalism: that by creating increased affluence capitalism would undermine

the values that sustained it. Suri (2009) goes on to argue that it was this social

composition and the geographical extensivity that made the Counterculture

unique. Certainly, the values espoused by some of the members of the

Counterculture were not new, echoing those of the Romantics from the previous

century, including the objections to industrialism and ‘pure’ rationalism

(Musgrove 1974). Thus Yinger (1982, 22) suggests the Countercultural objection

to rationality was based on the view that

Society is corrupted by its overemphasis on “repressive rationality” to the neglect of the importance of the irrational in human experience, by its oppressive bureaucracies, and by its exaggerated dependence on science as the only road to truth

4 Goffman and Joy (2005, 337- 341) mention the mostly overlooked Tropicália counterculture of Brazil that emerged in the late 1960s, along with the suppressed Mexican student revolt. See also Suri (2009) on the Soviet Counterculture of the same era.

65

Clearly, some critics perceived excessive rationality to be embodied in the social

systems and structures of society and questioned the legitimacy of such

structures including the growing role of the state. Thus Roszak (1970) describes

the Counterculture as a rejection of the ‘technocracy’, which Rycroft (2007, 619)

defines as ‘the technocratic control of human bodies and minds’. Therefore

personal expression and ‘freedom’ were a key meta-values that cut across many

elements of the Counterculture. Indeed, many of the French postmodern and

post-structural social theorists who theorised micro-political resistance were in

contact with the Countercultural movements of the late 1960s and early 1970s

(Cusset 2008).

The Countercultural rejection of rational scientism was also driven by the

growing recognition of the impact that industrial agriculture was having on

ecological systems (Carson 1963), as well as a number of scandals associated

with ‘orthodox’ scientific medicine (Eagle 1978). Such distrust was underpinned

by a critique of Western scientific reductionism. Therefore, several aspects of the

Counterculture were underpinned by ideas of ‘holistic’ or ecological thinking

that focused on the interconnectedness and complexity of existence (Tipton

1982). Such philosophies were found particularly in the growing ecological

movements of the period, as were as some of the Eastern and new spiritualities

which grew in popularity. Indeed, these spiritualities were also a reaction to

philosophies of rational analyses or scientific verification (Heelas 1996).

There was also a specific rejection of industrialism, large-scale technologies and

capitalism. 5 The critique of capitalism was based partly on the emerging

phenomenon of mass consumerism, illustrated by Herbert Marcuse’s ([1964]

2002) influential One Dimensional Man. The Counterculture therefore raised

questions about economic materialism and, as Suri (2009, 67) has noted,

5 It is worth noting that the technological developments of industrial capitalism played a key role in underpinning geographic spread of the Counterculture including the opportunities for increased individual mobility (Jobs 2009) and the development of offset litho printing (Smith 1977; Fountain 1988) which underpinned the ‘underground’ press and therefore the circulation of countercultural discourses.

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The counterculture did more than just challenge existing authority; it also questioned the basic assumptions about the “good life” that underpinned social order.

Related to this there was a growing critique of the ‘bigness’ that was epitomised

and valorised within advanced capitalist societies. This was reflected in the work

of Kohr (2001), Schumacher (1993) and later picked up by Kirkpatrick Sale

(1980). These writers argued that large-scale institutions and technologies led to

a concentration of power, inefficient outcomes, ecological problems and

dehumanising effects. This led to calls from such thinkers for ‘human scale’

solutions arguing that there was a ‘natural’ size for human institutions that

should not be exceeded (Sale 1980).

This section has argued that the Counterculture can be broadly conceived as a

utopian reaction to advanced industrial modernity. What also cut across many

aspects of the Counterculture was a utopian politics that was committed to

processes of social change (Rozak 1970). Having established this broad

definition the next section seeks to define some of the key strands of this broad

movement and also argue that the Counterculture is therefore an ongoing

process.

3.1.2 Unpacking the Counterculture

Whilst the Counterculture can be conceived as a single movement it is also

important to recognise the diversity, difference and conflict within it. The

historian Arthur Marwick rejects the idea that the Counterculture was a unified

totality and instead posits that ‘large numbers of new subcultures were created,

which then expanded and interacted with each other, thus creating the pullulating

flux which characterises the era’ (Marwick, 1998, 11). Marwick’s sub-cultural

perspective on the counterculture is one way of beginning to breakdown the

singularity of the Counterculture. Thus the Counterculture reflects a useful

‘meta-level’ label that occludes the diversity of subcultural groups, practices and

movements that constitute it (Desmond et al. 2000). Musgrove (1974, 21)

suggests that

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Today [in 1974] the counterculture is synonymous neither with student activism nor hippiedom. It has broken from its base. At its core it is true, there is a relatively small number of people who have rejected work as it is conventionally conceived and leisure that they see as its mirror image. They are mystics, aesthetes, anarchists, music-makers, community actors, political and social activists, sculptors, painters, potters, wood-carvers, metal-workers, social philosophers, writers and poets, gardeners, poster designers and unpaid social workers.

Similarly Clecak (1983, 18) suggests that “the Movement” became an umbrella

term that covered a range of political and countercultural activities and attitudes

in the late 1960s. However, whereas Clecak (and others) argue the Movement

diffused in the 1970s, others see it as an ongoing phenomenon. For example, Cox

(1995) suggests:

These different phenomena - "1968", "new social movements", "the alternative economy", "green politics" and so on - can then be seen not as a series of isolated developments but as aspects of a single process: the growth of counter cultures in the sense of distinct complexes of meanings and practices which challenge those of the dominant culture

Cox (1995, 4)

It could be argued that the term ‘Alternative Culture’ is used to reflect ongoing

manifestations of the Counterculture. For example St John (1999, 7) suggests

that contemporary Alternative Culture is

expressed in various social movements (e.g. communitarian, bohemian, agitation art, healing-arts, green, feminist, queer, peace, civil and land rights movements), new spiritualities (e.g. Neo-Paganism or the New Age), and youth subcultures (e.g. new traveller, raver-dance, feral). It is the combination of such currents, their accumulation and their fusion, that I refer to as the ACM [Alternative Cultural Movement] - a heterogeneous movement, a matrix, even palimpsest, of voluntary and unstable de-centrist ‘neo-tribes’ (Maffesoli 1996), affinity groups and ‘disorganisations’ holding to alternative values and vocabularies.

This definition of Alternative Culture is very close to the notion of

Countercultural adopted by this thesis. The current preference for ‘Alternative’

is perhaps because ‘Counterculture’ now sounds anachronistic (Desmond et al.

2000) or unfashionable (McKay 1996) and has strong temporal associations with

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the 1960s. However, the use of Alternative can be problematic because

‘Alternative Movement’ and ‘Alternative Culture’ also have established emic

meanings that refer to a certain subset of linked Countercultural practices. The

usage of such terms increased in popularity in the 1980s (Stott 1986; Preston and

Preston 1982; Osmond and Graham 1984). Osmond and Graham (1984, 25)

suggest that the

Alternative movement is seeking change through example. Many feel that simply living out their beliefs is itself a contribution to changing the world. It is a case, more often than not, of actions speaking louder than words.

Osmond and Graham’s celebratory guide, which accompanied an HTV television

series highlights alternative education, ‘living lightly’, the New Age, co-

operative forms of living and ‘Holistic Healing’ as keys aspects of the

Alternative Movement. Similarly:

Alternative Australia is about rebuilding a culture of co-operation between people and the rest of the planet. Alternative Australians are building cutting edge realities that are a culture in waiting for the time and place for their role in transformation of the dominant paradigm: this transformation will surely come when the planet says ‘enough is enough’.

Cook (2000, 55)

This conception of Alternative therefore relates strongly to ‘green’ politics and

beliefs. The use of the term Countercultural in this thesis therefore attempts to

avoid confusion over different meanings of ‘alternative’ but also because it is

conceived of as being broader than emic (green) conceptions of the Alternative

Movement or Alternative Culture.

The idea of a ‘single’ movement can also obscure difference and conflict. Again,

back in the 1970s Musgrove (1974, 196) suggested that

The counter culture as a group of ideas or as groups of people is apparently splintered, contradictory, divided.

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The fissures of such conflict can cut across many dimensions both amongst what

Goffman and Joy (2005) call ‘subcountercultures’ and within them. For example,

Yinger (1982) discusses the differences between Marxist counterculturalists and

Abbie Hoffman, founder of the Yippies – the political wing of the ‘hippie’

movement. Inevitably conflict can also occur within perceived homogenous

countercultural subcultures. For example, Castells (1983) details schisms within

the gay movement of 1970s San Francisco. McWilliams (2000, 65) makes a

distinction between those hippies who were ‘peaceniks’ and aligned with

elements of the peace movement and those who were nondoctrinaire and

indifferent to politics.

In order to recognise the range of different Countercultural strands it is necessary

to develop a loose typology, in a similar way that Gibson-Graham’s diverse

economy permits us to ‘see’ a range of different economic practices. The danger

of developing typologies is that whilst they can act as a tool of organisation and

revelation, they can simultaneously obscure (Halfacree 2001). However, in order

to develop a broader conception of the Counterculture that respects a certain

amount of diversity whilst also maintaining some overall coherence, a typology

of five loose strands of Countercultural practice is developed below.

(i) Radical politics

There is a strong connection between the Counterculture and emergence of the

New Left in the 1960 and 1970s (Esler 1971). It is this ‘withering’ of the

revolutionary politics of the student uprisings of 1968 that is often emphasised in

interpretations that the Counterculture was a ‘failure’ and evolved into

postmodernism (Eagleton 2000). However it is argued in this thesis that such

discourses of failure ignore the success and development of other dimensions of

political practice that emerged from the Counterculture (Watts 2001). Indeed,

despite 1968’s apparent ‘failure’ there was in fact an increase in radical Leftist

grassroots political organising in the 1970s (Harman 1988). McKay (1996)

provides an account of what he calls ‘cultures of resistance’ since the 1960s. His

book is an explicit response to the narrative of failure of the 1960’s

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Counterculture, which he argues, is prevalent in many accounts. Contrastingly,

he suggests that

…one of the aims of this book is to reclaim the power of the notion of the counterculture, partly to show that the utopian project of the 1960s is still with us – in fact never went away – and partly to signal that the traces and strands of resistance the book uncovers form some sort of larger and longer lasting achievement, a significant challenge to majority culture.

McKay (1996, 6)

McKay focuses in particular on oppositional countercultures, such as New Age

Travellers, Rave Culture and radical eco-activism. More recently the ‘Anti-

Globalisation’ and various Anti-capitalist movements could be regarded as

another ongoing expression of radical Countercultural politics (Starr 2000; Wall

2005). Various forms of green politics also developed within the Counterculture,

reflected in both the emergence of organised Green political parties and

alternative approaches to political economy such as ‘New Economics’ and

radical localism (Boyle and Sims 2009; Starr 2000)

(ii) New Social Movements

Watts (2001) argues that the diversity of political practices and movements that

emerged from the 1960s was one the lasting legacies of the Counterculture. The

term ‘New Social Movements’ can be used to refer to a diverse range of social

groups that gained prominence in the 1960s and 1970s such as the Peace

movement, and various different ‘rights’ movements (women’s, gay, minority

etc). Of course, all of these movements existed before the 1960s but the

argument made in this thesis is that the ‘Counterculture’ reflects a step change in

the popularity, reach and impact of such movements. Certainly, in the case of

some of them, such as Environmentalism, there were very strong links with the

wider Counterculture (Reich 1971). An extensive literature has emerged which

studies these movements from a range of different perspectives (Buechler 2000,

45 - 51) and thus they have become one of the most ‘visible’ legacies of the

Counterculture. However, it could be argued that the association of the

Counterculture with both ‘radical’ and ‘oppositional’ politics has obscured the

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other ways in which the utopian politics of the Counterculture have also been

expressed.

(iii) Alternative Pathways

Hess (2007) uses the term ‘Alternative Pathways’ because he argues that the

terms ‘social movement’ or ‘contentious politics’ do not fully capture the range

of organisations that are engaged in forms of social change. He argues that some

organisations that mix social change goals with other goals may not see

themselves as engaging in contentious politics or as part of a social movement.

Hess (2007) focuses on how such pathways have shaped science and technology

from a position ‘outside’ the conventionally conceived structures of innovation.

However, it is argued here that many Alternative Pathways are rooted in the

Counterculture, but have generally been overlooked in discussions of it. These

Alternative Pathways are linked closely to the idea of the ‘Alternative Society’

that emerged in the 1970s. Because of the general lack of acknowledgement of

this strand of the Counterculture, its origins are explored in more detail here.

Green (1998, Ch. 13) uses the term ‘Alternative Society’ to characterise attempts

to build parallel Countercultural institutions such as the Arts Lab. The

‘Alternative Society’ therefore reflects an interstitial strategy of changing society

from the bottom up. Belasco (2007, 68) sums up the shift in political emphasis

within what he calls emergence of the ‘countercuisine’, the Countercultural food

and agricultural movements that emerged from the 1960s:

To be self-sustaining, a cuisine needs more than ideas about food; it also needs the food itself – and a separate infrastructure to supply it. As the countercuisine evolved, the ideological changes often came first, sometimes accidentally and experimentally, sometimes drug-related, sometimes tied to apocalyptic or mystical visions. Experiments in radically different ways of growing, distributing, and retailing food came next – along with numerous books hoping to publicize and perpetuate the initial gains. These efforts were at once realistic and utopian: realistic because they were determined to do the hard work of coming up with practical alternatives, utopian because the alternatives frequently posited fundamentally subversive ways of doing business and constructing society. Here was the counter-cuisine at its most ambitious – and also at its most conflicted and vulnerable.

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Therefore Yinger (1982, 90) argues that there is a third strategy for

countercultures that is often overlooked. In addition to ‘political activism’ and

‘withdrawal’ there is the process of attempting to build what he calls a

‘countercommunity’. However, within the context of the Counterculture

narratives of ‘dropping out’ and ‘failure’ have obscured the development of this

strand of activism during the 1970s. For example, Cornell (2009) provides a

history of the US based anarchist Movement for a New Society that he argues has

a ‘forgotten’ history and which pioneered a range of prefigurative political

practices. This section now briefly gives an overview of some of lost history of

engagement with the ideas of the ‘Alternative Society’ in the UK.

Within the UK the notion of the Alternative Society gained increased currency in

1972 when the organisation of the same name was established to

provide a communication network for all those who, in different fields, are working to create the cells of a new society…Projects: housing, probation work, neighbourhood health, land trusts. Seeking to establish a Foundation for Alternatives

(Clarke 1977, 303)

In 1975 the Alternative Society organisation opened a Centre for Alternatives in

Urban Development at Lower Shaw Farm near Swindon. The notion of the

Alternative Society gained a higher profile in 1973 with the publication of A

Book of Visions, Directory of Alternative Society projects. Published by the Ideas

Pool, with the support of the BIT information service (itself a grassroots

countercultural institution) the project involved a number of the countercultural

elite of the era. Paul McCartney donated the £1,250 prize and the judges included

(amongst others) the writer Germaine Greer, Richard Neville (publisher of Oz

magazine) and countercultural entrepreneur Nicholas Saunders. The book came

out of a competition for ideas of projects for an ‘Alternative Society’. It was

intended to have a number of functions, but a central intention was to highlight

the range of possible projects that did or could exist that were trying to build an

Alternative Society. It was therefore to

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…help people appreciate that there are alternatives to the present cock-up in society, with ‘projects’ in the making’ in every sphere of human activity – based on new and valid alternative educational / cultural / technological / economic and political policies & principles. And to help people get the feel of what kind of beast it is that’s emerging, this ‘Alternative Society’, and what its dominant features appear to be

The Ideas Pool (1973, 219 emphasis in original)

On one level therefore the directory functions as a gazetteer of different project

ideas about grassroots societal change several of which use the term Alternative

Society in their title. Ideas include an early example of ‘fair trade’ (the ‘Earth

Exchange Handicraft Development and Marketing Project’) as well recycling

initiatives, both ideas that have since become far more ‘mainstream’. However,

the directory also provides some insight into how the Alternative Society was

conceptualised by some of its proponents. For example, Ben Cass, described as

one of the founders of the countercultural food magazine Seed (the first UK

journal of ‘organic living’) suggested that

We’ve passed the time for preaching and we’re into the age of living our beliefs. If a country like Britain, for example, is dotted with ‘oil spot’ groups of people living the whole earth life, those oil spots will gradually spread and eventually merge together

Quoted in The Ideas Pool (1973, 60)

This ‘oil spot’ analogy captures the way in which some proponents of the

Alternative Society believed that a multiplicity of small-scale institutions could

lead to systemic transformation. The directory also contains the last chapter of a

pamphlet written by Guy Dauncey called ‘Pamphlet on Radical Alternatives’.

This rejects the need for class revolution and the need to overthrow the state with

violence, arguing instead that:

The alternative movement works with two hands – while the right hand protests, the left hand builds alternatives that can do instead..But when the struggle gets further, both hands need to work together – protests become take-overs, work-ins, and people start running their schools and buses themselves, without the controlling hand of the authorities. The

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alternative projects explore the way, and help prepare for the time when their ideas and experiences can be put into action in a much larger way.

Dauncey quoted in the The Ideas Pool (1973, 209)

Dauncey goes on to set out twelve points that he sees as emerging features of the

Alternative Society, reproduced in Figure 3.1 below.

Figure 3.1: Characteristics of the 'Alternative Society' from Ideas Pool (1973)

Thus during the 1970s there was grassroots institution building in health and

medicine (Eagle 1978); food and agriculture (Conford 2008; Belasco 2007);

education (Smith 1977); housing - both in terms of communes (Rigby 1974a, b)

and a green building movement (Smith 2004); alternative technology (Smith

2005); and alternative media (Fountain 1988). Saunders (1975) highlights the

Countercultural connection of many of these movements. Whilst the wider idea

of the Alternative Society faded, many of these institutions continued to be

advocated as part of the ‘Alternative Movement’ of the 1980s and 1990s. Indeed,

as Hess (2007) discusses, many of them have, to some extent, had an influence

on ‘mainstream’ society.

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(iv) Alternative Spiritualities

Another countercultural strand that is also recognised as having its roots in the

Counterculture is the ‘New Age’ (Goffman and Joy 2004). Ferguson (1981) and

Capra (1982) drew public attention to the New Age movement in the early 1980s

arguing that it was seeking to change society through personal transformation.

The term ‘New Age’ is highly contested and often used with pejorative

connotations (Kemp 2004). Similarly the extent to which it reflects a coherent

‘movement’ is also debated (Reddon 2005; Shimazono 1999). Holloway (2000)

argues that the New Age is a heterogeneity of practices that are concerned with

changing the world through self-development. It reflects what Heelas (2005)

calls the rise of ‘self-religiosity’ which was also found in many aspects of the

Counterculture (Tipton 1982) and which is underpinned by different forms of

psychological practice such as meditation, sometimes part of organised

programmes such as est or other ‘new’ spiritual groups. Heelas (1996, 16)

suggests that the New Age

…designates those who maintain that inner spirituality - embedded within the self and the natural order as a whole - serves as the key to moving from all that is wrong with life to all that is right

Understood in this way the term ‘New Age’ does not cover all the spiritual

practices which grew in popularity within the Counterculture but is instead a sub-

category within a wider set of esoteric spiritual practices, illustrated by York’s

(2005) discussion of the antipathy between neo-paganism and the New Age.

Indeed Corrywright (2004) suggests that the term New Age has been rejected by

many of those to whom it has been applied and suggests instead the term

alternative spiritualities. This is the collective term used in this thesis to reflect a

range of Eastern religious practices, neo-paganism, Wicca, and other forms of

self-religiosity that were associated with the Counterculture. As noted above,

such alternative spiritualities grew in popularity during the 1970s (Greenfield

1975; Tipton 1982; Musgrove 1974). There was a spiritual dimension to some of

the practices and lifestyles which were motivated by visions of an Alternative

Society also had a spiritual dimension such as some communes (Rigby 1974b),

and the back-to-the land movement (Halfacree 2006). Many of the more recent

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expressions of the Counterculture, such as the anti-roads protests of the 1990s,

also had a spiritual dimension for some participants (Plows 1998). Like other

aspects of the Counterculture, the European roots of many of the alternative

spiritualities can be traced back to late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries

(Kemp 2004; Akhtar and Humphries 1999).

(v) Alternative Lifestyles

The final strand of Counterculture reflects aspects of countercultural lifestyle,

many of which overlap with some of the previous categories but which also need

to be recognised in their own right. Such lifestyles are often associated with more

popular and public imaginaries of the Counterculture, particularly the idea of the

‘hippy’. For example Musgrove (1974) suggests that at that time most Americans

equated the Counterculture solely with communes. A range of alternative

lifestyles can be connected to the Counterculture including Bohemianism (Esler

1971), communal living (Rigby 1974a, b), New Age Travellers (McKay 1996),

the ‘Back to the Land’ movements (Edginton 2008; Halfacree 2006) and the

‘voluntary simplicity’ movement (Elgin 1993). Each of these reflects to some

degree a conscious rejection of the ‘work’ and lifestyles associated with

‘conventional’ consumer modernity. Like the other aspects of the

Countercultural strands discussed in this section, contemporary manifestations of

these different lifestyles can be found within the UK (e.g. Pickerill and Maxey

2009).


This section has set out the framing of the Counterculture that underpins this

thesis. It has argued that the Counterculture consisted of a diversity of

overlapping sub-cultural practices, ideas, groups and institutions that differed in

many ways but which also share a rejection of advanced industrial modernity. It

has suggested that far from ‘failing’ in the late 1960s and 1970s there has been

ongoing evolution of the Counterculture and ongoing expressions of utopian

intent. A five-fold typology has been developed which that enables us to ‘see’

this wider manifestation of the Counterculture.

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Figure 3.2: Strands of the Counterculture

Figure 3.2 illustrates the five strands of the Counterculture whilst clarifying the

relationship with the two other key concepts of Alternative Culture and the New

Age. Understood this way, Alternative Culture cuts across all the strands of the

Counterculture but does not reflect its totality because, as noted above it tends to

be linked to ‘green’ ideologies and perspectives. Thus there are aspects of the

Counterculture that fall ‘outside’ this particular movement. Similarly, the New

Age is a smaller category that has some overlap with both Alternative Culture

and the wider Counterculture. The Figure also illustrates the way in which

different political strategies can be loosely associated with the different strands.

Clearly even this account of the Counterculture remains an interpretive

simplification. Indeed, as the discussion noted, there are numerous overlaps and

connections between these different expressions of the Counterculture the blur

the conceptual boundaries. There is also a question about the extent to which

different aspects of each of these strands remains ‘countercultural’. Many writers

argue that countercultures are dialectical in their relationship with the

mainstream (Musgrove 1974, Desmond et al. 2000; Herbst 2003). As Green

(1998, xiii) argues, many of the ideas of the Counterculture of the 1960s and

1970s have since been absorbed into the mainstream:

Fringe theatres, arts centres, natural food stores, a host of ‘cottage industries’ and workers co-operatives, a concern for the environment and its ecology, the ‘personal politics’ of gay liberation and the women’s movement, the squatting movement and its legacy of housing action

78

groups, the obsession with a clean healthy body, the variety of alternative physical and therapies.

The question of the extent to which such practices have either transformed or

been absorbed by the mainstream is beyond the immediate scope of this thesis.

Instead, the key argument is that there is analytical purchase in framing the

Counterculture in wider terms than most conventional accounts.

3.2 Placing the Counterculture

This section discusses the research that has linked some of the main aspects of

the Counterculture and place. There are three overarching arguments being made

within this section: first there is a general lack of research on reputed sites of

‘Alternative Culture’ such as Totnes, particularly those places that have become

recognised as hotspots of such activity in recent decades. In other words

‘Countercultural place’ does not really exist as a recognised object of

investigation. Second, research that does explore the spatial unfolding of the

Counterculture tends to be either conceptually or temporally narrow in its focus.

Most research explores only one aspect of Countercultural practice and does not

necessarily make connections to other strands in the way that this thesis attempts.

Third, the formation of Countercultural places is generally under-theorised.

However, there are certainly some commonalities and propositions that reoccur

within the literature and these are drawn out in Section 2.2 below.

Before the literature is explored it seems necessary to define how the term

‘Countercultural place’ is being used. As noted above – there is a general lack of

research interest in ‘Countercultural’ or ‘Alternative’ places. It is a central task of

this thesis to increase the recognition of such places as well as provide a more

theoretically informed understanding of them. Therefore, at a basic level

Countercultural places can be understood as places that have evolved as

recognised sites of Countercultural activity. As such Countercultural places are

also countercultural places, insofar as the Counterculture is a mixture of

overlapping countercultures. However, not all countercultural places are

necessarily Countercultural.

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3.2.1 Geographies of Countercultural place

This section discusses the dominant ways in which Countercultural places have

been conceptualised and researched within the academic literature.

(i) Communes

The general neglect of the wider dimensions and complexity of the

Countercultural movements of the 1970s is reflected in the academic research

that was undertaken during the 1970s and 1980s. Much of the research of the era

focused on the commune movement such as Kanter (1973); Rigby (1974a, b);

Mellville (1972); Shenker (1986); Berger (1981); Zicklin (1983). The focus on

communes obviously provides research with a place-centred focus that is stable

and bounded, but in doing so neglects much of the wider Countercultural practice

that was ongoing at this time. There is an ongoing thread of literature that

explores the legacy and survival of such communes (Pepper 1991; Meijering et

al. 2007) as well as more recent evolutions of ‘intentional communities’ such as

eco-villages and ‘Low Impact Developments’ (LIDS) (Trainer 2000; Taylor

2000; Hatton 2009; Pickerill & Maxey 2009). Whist these contemporary

examples certainly have some lineage from the Counterculture they also fit

within a much longer heritage of spatial utopian experiments (Hardy 2000;

Coates 2001).

(ii) Back to the land migration

Halfacree (2009, 2007a, 2007b, 2006, 2001) argues that geographers have poorly

researched the ‘back to the land’ movement and failed to recognise it as a distinct

form of counterurbanisation that he has explored from a number of angles (see

also Mac Éinrí and White 2008). Kockel’s (1991) chapter on Western Ireland is a

rare exploration of processes of Countercultural migration. He identifies several

waves of migration that have impacted on the area and have led to the

development of an ‘indigenous’ counterculture. The area also retains connections

to other countercultural places through transient migrant countercultures. Lees

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(1999) also argues that there has been a similar migratory processes within the

North American Pacific Northwest where immigrants have been attracted by its

‘Ecotopian’ image and a simpler more spiritual form of life, but which have also

led to a negative reaction from some communities.

(iii) Urban enclaves and scenes

The importance of urban sites to the development of the Counterculture is

highlighted in the recent paper by Jobs (2009) who details the roles of

Amsterdam, Paris and later Prague in the late 1960s. Within the UK, Rycroft’s

(2003) recent paper explores the underground press of London and notes the

‘territorial appropriation’ of the West End. Similarly an earlier sociological study

of London by Mills (1973) outlines two contrasting London ‘scenes’ one based

around the West End and one based around Notting Hill which he says

In so far as ‘hippies, heads or freaks’ concentrated anywhere in London, it was here and to some extent this was the centre also of that broader and even more diffuse collection of dissenting young people who represented what the popular press call the ‘Underground’ and many of the institutions and services that represented the hip and underground communities: Release, an advice and welfare system for people on drug charges; BIT, an information and advice centre for young people coming to the area; the Electric Cinema and the macrobiotic restaurants; and I.T and Friendz and numerous other more ephemeral journals. The area, now and then, is dominated by young people of the kind I have described, and by immigrants, and as a consequence it has a transitory and unsettled air.

Mills (1973, 51)

However, Mills’ (1973) study like other UK studies of the 1970s urban

counterculture is primarily a study of sociological aspects of the counterculture

rather than its geography (Musgrove 1974; Willis 1978).

There is a wider literature that has highlighted the existence of urban

countercultural sites in North America. Rycroft (2007) suggests in passing that in

the 1960s many American cities contained recognised countercultural enclaves

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but that it was the West Coast cities that were most associated with the

emergence of cultural politics associated with the Counterculture, in particular

San Francisco’s position as a centre for esoteric practices was, by the early 1960s, well-established and widely celebrated. As a result, the local underground media and economy was able to emphasize these aspects and built a representation of San Francisco as a centre for cultural experimentation that is still familiar.

Rycroft (2007, 623)

Rycroft (2007) also notes the existence of the ‘beat’ communities of Venice

Beach and North Beach and perhaps most famously the area of Haight-Ashbury

in San Francisco which was strongly associated with the Counterculture

(Hoskyns 1997; Zimmerman 2008). Castells (1983) work on the rise of the ‘Gay

Community’ in San Francisco gives some insight into the processes that lead the

city to emerge as a hub of Countercultural activity. He points to a number of

overlapping factors including migration and a flow of transient people, the

existence of overlapping subcountercultures, and a growing reputation. He also

describes how the development of ‘gay territory’ led to a process of

gentrification that displaced other communities.

The work of David Ley (1996) also links urban countercultutral enclaves and

gentrification. Using examples from a range of North American cities his thesis

is that countercultural and artistic communities stimulate the subsequent

enbourgeoisment of inner city districts, that the new middle classes ‘follow the

hippies’. Butler’s (1997) study of Hackney also linked the ‘progressive’ middle

classes and processes of gentrification. Interestingly, Caroline Ware ([1935]

1965) observes a similar consumption-side process taking place the bohemian

enclave of Greenwich Village in the 1920s, describing three different phases of

in-migration. She also notes that other cities had similar enclaves such as

Chicago, San Francisco and other areas of New York. Not only does this

illustrate that countercultural urban enclaves predate the Counterculture in North

America, but also that Jane Jacobs, whose Death and Life of Great American

Cities ([1961] 1993) is often attributed to first recognising the impact that artistic

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communities can have on urban communities (Florida 2002; Brooks 2000), was

actually writing about (and living in) a neighbourhood (Greenwich Village) that

had been experiencing a form of proto-gentrification for forty years. Such

consumption based explanations of gentrification contrast with production side

theories such as those proposed by Neil Smith (1979) where gentrification is

driven by flows of economic capital within the wider capitalist system.

Another theorisation of countercultural enclaves is offered by Richard Lloyd

(2002) who uses the neighbourhood of Wicker Park in Chicago to advance a

theory of ‘neo-bohemia’ arguing that it illustrates

how socio-spatial patterns once thought to be marginal, or even oppositional, to the real productive work of cities like Chicago now potentially operate as key features in a new regime of capital accumulation.

(Lloyd 2002, 718)

Conceptualising bohemia as a spatial phenomena he argues that such ‘neo-

bohemian enclaves’ are now integral to a new logic of accumulation. Similarly,

Florida (2002) argues that the presence of significant bohemian concentrations

within urban areas signifies an underlying openness to innovation and creativity

that is economically beneficial. Florida points to the increasing integration of

bohemian and bourgeois culture. This is also the thesis of Brooks (2000) who

coins the neologism ‘bobos’ to reflect a hybrid of bourgeois and bohemian

culture that he argues reflects the new upper class. Geographically Brooks (2000,

104) locates the heart of this culture in ‘Latte towns’ that he describes as

upscale liberal communities, often in magnificent natural settings, often university based, that have become crucial gestation centers for America’s new upscale culture. They tend to be the birthplaces of the upscale retailers, gourmet bread stores, handmade furniture outlets, organic grocery stores, and the rest of the uplifting enterprises that make up Bobo consumer culture.

Whilst bohemianism has its roots as a distinct counterculture there are clear

overlaps between these usages of ‘bohemian’ and some of aspects of the

Counterculture as defined within this thesis.

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(iv) ‘New Age’ Networks

Within the literature on the Counterculture it is particularly the ‘New Age’ aspect

that has been explored in relational and network terms. Indeed, the idea of the

New Age as a networked phenomenon is often a feature of the emic literature.

Marilyn Ferguson (1982) adopted the SPIN theory (segmented, polycentric,

integrated network) from Gerlach and Hine (1968) to popularise the idea of a

decentred, leaderless New Age movement as a ‘network of networks’. Her book,

The Aquarian Conspiracy, also became a key node in the constitution of this

network, including as it did the contact details for a range of groups, magazines

and networks, as did other guides of the same era (see Adams 1982, Osmond and

Graham 1984). The SPIN model has also been adopted by researchers interested

in the new age ‘New Age’ such as York (1995, 330) whose description of the

‘holistic movement’ reinforces the notion of a broad focus on countercultural

phenomena, suggesting that it includes the

New Age, Neo-paganism, the ecology movement, feminism, the Goddess movement, the Human Potential Movement, Eastern mysticism groups, liberal / liberation politics, the Aquarian Conspiracy, etc.

York (1999) has also explored the connection between local scenes of the New

Age and the wider global movement, a theme that has been picked up in other

papers on the phenomenon. For example, D’Andrea (2007a) explores the global

networks that connect utopian sites across the globe, in particular how Osho

Sanyassins (a form of alternative spirituality that emerged in the 1970s) not only

form a connection between the 1960s Counterculture and the Techno

counterculture of the 1990s, but also connect Ibiza with Goa and Pune in India.

Similarly, Nigel Thrift (1999) suggests how the overlapping global Actor –

Networks of the ‘New Age’ and Complexity Theory create space but also that at

certain sites, networks can physically coincide and these sites can provide particularly important points for the transmission of metaphors since they allow direct interaction and negotiation to (quite literally) take place

Thrift (1999, 53)

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One such site within the network which Thrift (1999) describes is Schumacher

College near Totnes and he goes on to cite Heelas (1996, 108) who suggests that,

outside of London:

Then there are the more rural heartlands of the [New Age] movement: Glastonbury, the Totnes region, the Welsh borders, Central Wales, and places along the ‘Celtic’ littoral including the Isle of Arran. East Grinstead is also worthy of note, being home, for instance, to the British headquarters of the National Pagan Association, the Rosicrucians and Scientology.

However, little more is said about the geography of the New Age.

(v) Other research focusing on the UK

There are a few other examples of research that explores certain sites of

Countercultural activity within the UK. For example, Glastonbury has received

attention as a site of alternative spirituality (Prince and Riches 2001; Ivakhiv

2001; Holloway 2003). The community of Findhorn in Scotland has been

researched in a similar vein (Sutcliffe 2003). Other research highlights the

connection between certain places and individual strands of the Counterculture

for example organic farming in West Wales (Lampkin 1990; Conford 2008) and

Horton’s (2002) PhD study of Environmental Activism in Lancaster. Smith and

Phillips (2001) develop the idea of ‘greentification’ of Hebden Bridge

implicating countercultural in-migration in the gentrification of the town, whilst

Higham (1996) provides some insights into the early stages of this process.

Smith (2007) provides a rare example of the unfolding of the socio-spatial

processes that form the ‘alternative spatiality’ of the Shoreham-on-Sea boat

community. However beyond this, there is little acknowledgement or exploration

of the geography of ‘Alternative’ places or culture, despite the fact that some

places have such reputations both within academic literature and popular culture.

For example, publications from the 1970s such as Alternative Brighton,

Alternative Edinburgh, Alternative London, and Alternative England and Wales

provide insight into the range of countercultural activities and groups that were

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active at the time. 6 Alternative England and Wales begins with a section called

‘Impressions and Contacts’ that gives an overview of the ‘freak scene’ across

England and Wales (Saunders 1975, pp. 6 – 18) and highlights some areas such

as West Wales and Liverpool as particularly vibrant areas. The former has

continued to retain a reputation as a site of Countercultural activity however,

there is little research that acknowledges the existence of such places or seeks to

explore their construction.

(vi) Summary

This section has sought to give an overview of the main areas of literature that

acknowledge the existence of geographies of the Counterculture. There are a

number of conclusions that can be developed from the above discussion. The

first is that most research focuses on one dimension of Countercultural practice

rather than the wider framing adopted by this thesis.

Within the literature there appears to be a fairly sharp line drawn between

conceptions of countercultural place as an urban phenomena (the idea of the

‘enclave’) and its rural manifestations which attempt to (re)construct an Arcadian

rural idyll (rural communes and back to the land movements). However, beyond

this there is there is little recognition of the existence of ‘Countercultural’

‘Alternative’ or ‘New Age’ places from geographers. In particular there is very

little research on the small towns around the UK that have developed reputations

as ‘alternative’ places (e.g. Totnes, Stroud, Lewes, Hebden Bridge), nor on the

cities that have ‘Alternative’ reputations (e.g. Brighton, Bristol, Bath, Norwich).

The research that does exist tends to focus on only one dimension of the

Counterculture or take a fairly homogenous view (e.g. Smith and Phillips 2001).

Furthermore, there has been no detailed research into what processes construct

such places and how they might interact.

6 The Alternative Edinburgh guide was perhaps a little less countercultural than some of the others but did have sections on the underground press and living cheaply. One of the editors was the recent British Prime Minister, Gordon Brown.

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Whilst academia has in recent years paid more attention to what Foucault (2003)

calls ‘subjugated knowledges’ it is arguable that the ghosts of modernity and

scientific objectivity still haunt much academic work, leading to an avoidance of

Countercultural phenomena which could be perceived as ‘unscientific’. The

reluctance to engage with Countercultural places could therefore reflect an

academic reluctance to engage with phenomena that are perceived as being

‘irrational’. For example, Hetherington (2000) argues that practitioners of Earth

mysteries value forms of ‘rejected knowledge’ that have been lost in the post-

Enlightenment world. However, the academic archaeologist Adam Stout (2008)

has recently defended the ‘radicals’ who have led the development of prehistoric

archaeology and the alternative discourses that they created. The general lack of

research and recognition of Countercultural places means that little work has

specifically focused on how such places are shaped and emerge. The next section

draws out some of themes that can be found within the existing literature.

3.2.2. Processes of constructing Countercultural places

This final section examines some of the processes that are implicated in the

formation of Countercultural places, suggesting that six different propositions

can be distilled from the literature. These factors are not only important in

understanding why Countercultural places are constructed but what they are and

how they should be understood. The first of these is migration. The importance

of migration in the formation of countercultural places is explicit in some of the

literature (such as that on the back-to-the-land) and implied in much of the rest.

To some extent all of the categories of literature detailed in the last section

involve different kinds of migration and movement. It is therefore present within

most accounts of Countercultural places. This section identifies five other factors

are implicated in the production of countercultural places, many of which are

linked to migration.

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(i) Reputation

The reputation of a place is often implicated as a driver of Countercultural in-

migration (Castells 1983; Smith and Phillips 2001). Shields’ (1991) argues that

some places develop a reputation for ‘marginal’ practices, which he suggests

is located in an imaginary geography vis-a-vis the place-myths of other towns and regions which form the contrast which establishes its reputation as a liminal destination a social as well as geographical margin, a ‘place apart’.

Shields (1991, 112)

Hall (1998) argues that such reputations can shape places materially:

All cities have an image. In fact, it would be truer to say that all cities have, and always have had, a number of images. A place image of any kind is the simplified, generalised often, stereotypical, impression that people have of any place or area, in this case of cities. Yet it is impossible to know cities in their entirety. To make sense of our surroundings we reduce the complexity of reality to a few selective impressions. In being selective in this way we are producing a place image. Place images typically exaggerate certain features, be they physical, social, cultural, economic, political or some combination of these, while reducing or even excluding others. That the actual conditions in a city may have changed considerably since the image of the place was formed is not the point. In the world of perception the image is more important than the reality.

Hall (1998, 110 – 111)

Hall goes on to suggest that there are several ways in which such ‘place images’

are created: media coverage, satire, personal experience and hearsay and

reputation. For example, there is a tendency within the media to designate certain

places as ‘New Age’ centres (Kemp 2004). Similarly Gesler’s (1998) exploration

of the evolution of the city of Bath’s reputation as a centre of healing makes a

number of additional points about reputations. Gesler argues that even though the

truth of a reputation might not be testable empirically it does not mean that the

reputation does not have a strong influence on actual behaviour. Furthermore, his

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work highlights how reputations can change over time, and how reputations can

be both controversial and contested.

(ii) Institutions

Although not often made explicit the role of various institutions seems to be

linked to the development of Countercultural place. Institutions often seem to

form important nodes in the construction of local scenes. One of Musgrove’s

(1974, 133) interviewees introduces the notion of an ‘alternative scene’:

Like in any big city, there’s a core of people who make up the alternative scene. It just happens that someone may be in the Information and Aid Centre and the Gypsy Liaison Group, for instance, or into community action and the restaurant group. It works out like that. They all interlock.

This is perhaps similar to the Wicker Park artistic ‘scene’ described in Lloyds’

(2002) account of neo-bohemia. Similarly, another of Musgrove’s interviewees

talks about the existence of a local ‘alternative society’:

There are shops, you know, like some of them are alternative and some of them like to think that they are. One down the road is alternative, not because of what it sells, but because it is organised as a co-operative and gives money to other alternative groups. But the Food House isn’t. Its good food, mind, but it’s just a hippie capitalist affair. They employ freaks, but that’s because freaks will work for less than anybody else – they don’t get much more than on social security. Then there are the alternative bookshops.

Respondent quoted in Musgrove (1974, 134)

The idea that geographically fixed premises create a localised countercultural

scene echoes the way in which Pickerill and Chatterton (2006) argue that

‘autonomous space’ is created within politically radical social centres. The

importance of alternative / radical bookshops as a hub of such scenes the 1970s

has been mentioned by Tim Lang (1999, 127) as an important source of

information in the 1970s:

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Often collectives, they were a window on the alternative view of the world, wells of radicalism from which students and local libertarian left culture drew. They were a statement that questioning was alive in this town. Everything then was ‘alternative’: alternative bookshop, alternative agriculture, alternative philosophy, alternative culture, alternative presses and newspapers, and so on.

The radical librarian John Noyce produced an annual list of radical bookshops in

the UK during the 1970s (e.g. Noyce 1973; Noyce 1978). Similarly Castells

(1983) highlights the importance of the City Lights bookshop in San Francisco as

well as fact that

the bars and the drag queens were fundamental to the creation of networks, making gay people visible, and stating their right to gather in public places.

Castells (1983, 141)

Similarly, writing about the ‘head-shops’ in Los Angeles, Rycroft (2007, 624)

suggests that

These outlets or ‘outposts of revolution’ served an important role as centres of information for the countercultural community that briefly came to rival the underground press itself

Therefore there are a number of different types of local institution that are

important in the creation of countercultural social space.

The literature also suggests that the alternative press are an institution that plays

a role in place making processes. Firstly, like the head shops and radical

bookshops discussed above, the local underground press let countercultural

subjects know what was going on in their locality. It provided a way into the

local ‘scene’. The importance of the underground press in providing a way into

countercultural spaces of the 1960s is something that Nigel Fountain has

emphasised (1988, viii)

The underground, as Jeff Nutall wrote in his pioneering Bomb Culture back in 1968, happened everywhere, but in Britain it first developed in

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London in the early 1960s. Hundreds, and then thousands, and then tens of thousands of people - young and old - began to enter it, whether for a weekend or a decade. However long the stay was, some method of communication that ditched mainstream preoccupations of Fleet Street and their official youth offshoots was bound to develop. Sometimes it was movies, sometimes word of mouth, but crucially it was the underground press.

Noyce’s (1979) extensive Directory of Alternative Publications 1965 – 1974

gives a sense of the proliferation of grassroots publications during this era. By

publicising events, courses, conferences and contacts these built countercultural

network space within a specific locality. Publications that covered a large

geographical area also created a social space that link distant sites. Dominic

Corrywright’s (2004) paper on Resurgence (a well known publication of the

Alternative Movement, see for example Osmond and Graham 1984) highlights

the way in which publications connect countercultural places, people and ideas

(in this case Schumacher College near Totnes and the activist Satish Kumar).

Holloway (2000) also uses Actor-Network Theory to highlight the importance of

the ‘New Age’ publication South West Connect and has also written about the

importance of the underground press in radical environmentalism (Holloway

1998).

(iii) Rural Landscapes

The rural landscape is invoked in much of the literature on communes and back

to the land movements as a key driver of migration (e.g. Lees 1999; Edgington

2008). The rural landscape obviously has longstanding associations with historic

anti-industrialist movements and also inflects the contemporary Counterculture

(Schmeid 2005). Often the desire of migrants to be closer to ‘nature’ is cited as

key factor. However, there are also indications of a connection between ‘sacred’

landscapes and Countercultural places such as in the case of Glastonbury

(Holloway 2003) and Western Ireland (Kockel 1991).

(iv) Economic margins

Economic marginality is often invoked in discussion of Countercultural places.

Peripheral places are preferred, it is argued, due to the lower cost of land and the

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potential for less regulatory interference (Hardy and Ward 1983; Schmeid 2005).

Certainly, the low cost of land was an influence in attracting the 1970s

generation of organic farmers to West Wales (Conford 2008). Similarly, in an

urban context Jane Jacobs (1993, 254 - 255) was one of the first to point out the

way in which such economic margins can allow creativity to flourish, whereby

they use ‘low yield’ buildings for their workshops but that this has the effect of

increasing the yield over time. However, in a range of contexts, such marginal

countercultural spaces often appear to become gentrified (Smith 2007b).

(v) Networks

As noted in above, networks feature strongly in analyses of New Age

phenomena, often highlighting the connections and flows between different

global sites. The free festivals and fairs of the 1970s and early 80s created a

different network of countercultural sites with connections to the ‘New Age’

(McKay 1996). These themselves created a network that was created by the

multiple festivals and fairs:

By the end of the 1970s a regular summer circuit had been established. From May Hill at the beginning of May via the Horseshoe Pass, Stonehenge, Ashton Court, Ingleston Common, Cantlin Stone, Deeply Vale, Meigan Fair, and various sites in East Anglia, to the Psilocybin Fair in mid-Wales in September, it was possible to find a free festival or a cheap community festival almost every weekend.

(Aitken 1990, 18 quoted in Partridge 2006, 43)

Partridge (2006) describes how a group of ‘hippies’ who were on this circuit

evolved into the Peace Convoy which itself evolved into what became known as

‘New Age travellers’.

3.3 Summary of Chapter

This chapter has established how the Counterculture is conceptualised within this

thesis. It has set out a deliberately broad conception of the Counterculture that

has five distinct (but overlapping) strands of activity. Furthermore, it has argued

that, understood in this way, the Counterculture can be reconstructed as an

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ongoing process with different localised manifestations and temporal emphases.

“Alternative Culture” and the “New Age” culture therefore reflect aspects of this

ongoing Countercultural phenomenon.

It has then explored the main areas of literature that have engaged with the

relationship between Counterculture and place. It has argued that these tend to

adopt narrower conceptions of the Counterculture and few studies engage with

the type of site being explored within this thesis. Furthermore, there is little work

that attempts to understand how such places might be produced. The final section

therefore drew out six different causal factors that are implicated within the

literature in the formation of countercultural places. Throughout the chapter there

have been a number of indications as to why it might be expected that

Countercultural places might be productive sites for postcapitalist development –

not least the fact that there is sometimes an explicit anti-capitalist ethic to some

Countercultural practices. This is an issue that is explored more fully in the next

chapter.

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Chapter 4: Countercultural place and postcapitalism This chapter builds on the previous two theory chapters to bring together

postcapitalism and Countercultural place. Part One describes the kinds of

postcapitalist institutions on which my empirical research focused, highlighting

the basis of their ‘postcapitalist’ credentials. Part Two then highlights some

evidence for the overarching research hypothesis – that Countercultural places

might be produced sites for Postcapitalist possibility. It then highlights two

concepts that might help to explain this relationship, embeddedness and

heterotopia. Finally, Part Three draws some conclusions and recaps the research

questions that the research is attempting to address.

4.1 Exploring Postcapitalist Institutions 4.1.1 Introduction

Chapter Two argued that Gibson-Graham’s diverse economy approach

represents a hybrid framework that brings together a number of different non-

capitalist spheres, practices and institutions. This breaks down a simple capitalist

/ non-capitalist binary and instead proposes what has been called ‘plural’ or

‘differentiated’ capitalism (Mendell 2009) which recognises that capitalist and

non-capitalist processes and institutions are entwined. As will be discussed in the

next chapter, there were a number of different ways in which postcapitalism

could have been explored in the field. An important methodological decision was

whether to attempt to mobilise the whole of the Gibson-Graham diverse

economy framework or only an element of it. The diverse economy schematic

(Figure 2.1) itself combines both ‘individual’ economic practices with forms of

collective economic institution to illustrate a breadth of possible non-capitalist

activity. Individual economic activities and relations tend to reflect those that

might involve ‘informal’, ’household’ or ‘self-provisioning’ activities. These

constitute elements of livelihood construction that fall outside conventional

economic discourse. Contrastingly, postcapitalist institutions tend to be

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collective forms of economic organisation that are ‘outside’ capitalism in some

discernable way.

The literature suggests that the exploration of individual (livelihoods)

postcapitalist experiences requires the delineation of a fairly homogenous

economic subject or ‘community’ (e.g. Gibson-Graham 2005a; McKay et al.

2007; St John 2005). In developing the research design I felt that this was at odds

with the heterogeneous approach to the Counterculture that was emerging

through the initial fieldwork. I therefore decided to focus primarily on the

‘institutional’ forms of postcapitalism. Such a research focus brings together a

number of different forms of postcapitalist institution that are normally kept

conceptually distinct in conventional economic discourses. It is therefore broader

than an approach that would look at just the ‘social economy’ of the case study

area, for example, but is not as broad as an attempt to adopt the whole of Gibson-

Graham’s diverse economy framing within a specific locality. This section of the

chapter therefore provides an overview of the main categories of such

institutions, illustrating the ways in which it is often argued that they are

‘outside’ capitalism.

4.1.2 Postcapitalist businesses

(i) Workers’ co-operatives

Co-operatives have long been promoted as a ‘solution’ to capitalist exploitation

going back to the mid 19th Century and the Rochdale Pioneers (Parker et al.

2007). This reflects a concern with the allocation of surplus value and

distributive justice that is rooted in Marxist economic analysis. Thus the surplus

is not extracted from the workers but re-distributed amongst them,

democratically. Co-operative forms are also advocated as an ideal means of

grounding economic activity within a locality or place, given that places

themselves are not ‘actors’ (DeFilippis 2004). As noted in Chapter Two,

Gibson-Graham are not alone in using the "#$%&'()$ co-operatives as a

hopeful symbol of existing postcapitalist possibility. Another popular example is

the co-operatives of Emilia Romagna in Italy (Roseland and Soots 2007).

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Workers’ co-operatives are therefore valourised as a way in which economic

activity can be re-embedded in place, and by which workers can take control of

their economic destiny (Lincoln 2003).

(ii) Independent businesses

Another potential category of non-capitalist business is independent or family-

run businesses. These are often valourised in the literature as an alternative to

‘corporate’ enterprises (Shuman 2006; Starr 2000). Such businesses are

perceived to be postcapitalist because, it is argued, they may not be solely

motivated by capital accumulation. Gibson-Graham suggest that

We may no more assume that a capitalist firm is interested in maximizing profits or exploitation than we may assume that an individual woman wants to bear and raise children, or that an American is interested in making money. When we refer to an economy-wide imperative of capital accumulation, we stand on the same unsafe ground (in the context of the anti-essentialist presumption of overdetermination) that we tread on when we refer to a maternal instinct or a human drive to acquisition.

Gibson-Graham (2006b, xxx)

Therefore such businesses may be ‘capitalist’ in their structure (i.e. they extract

surplus labour) but not in their ‘ethic’. For example, Ross (1986) suggests that a

range of objectives beyond simple profit maximisation often motivates small and

family-owned businesses. Such non-profit maximising desires can also be seen in

the business strategies of ‘lifestyle’ entrepreneurs who choose to keep their

businesses small (Walters 2002). Small businesses are also perceived to have a

greater commitment to their immediate locality. This is reflected in Richard

Douthwaite’s (1996, 341) description of a community business being an

enterprise that ‘supplies the wants or needs of a community and its owners accept

that they have a moral obligation to balance their community's interests against

their own.’ Similarly, Shuman (2006) lists several perceived benefits of local

ownership that are perceived to embed economic activity within the locality and

provide an alternative to corporate globalisation.

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(iii) Ethical businesses

A different type of non-capitalist enterprise is suggested by Brandt (1996) who

suggests that Socially Responsible Businesses (SRBS) are a form of value-

orientated enterprise that engage in range of practices which cut against pure self

interest. The economist Muhammed Yunus, founder of the successful

microfinance institution Grameen Bank has recently advocated a similar idea of

‘social business’ which he suggests is a mechanism by which poverty can be

‘solved’ (Yunus 2008). ‘Ethical’ or ‘green’ businesses are also businesses that

although they are privately owned, are seen to balance the need to sustain

themselves with a wider set of values (Zsolnai 2002). With reference to these,

Hazel Henderson (2006) describes the expansion of the Lifestyles of Health and

Sustainability (LOHAS) sectors of the economy. LOHAS industries include

those relating to ecotourism, alternative healthcare and ecological lifestyles and

fair trade and have an estimated global value of $228.9 billion (Hallsmith et al.

2006, 57). According to Ray and Anderson (2000, 328) they reflect a form of

‘conscious commerce’.

4.1.3 Community enterprises

There has been a great interest in recent years in the potential of social and

community enterprises as a form of economic institution that can deliver social

and economic benefits whilst also being self-sustaining (Amin et al. 2002; 2003).

Definitions of social enterprises vary from Paton’s (2003, x) suggestion that it is

‘an organisation where people have to be business-like but are not in it for the

money’ to Johanisova’s (2005) fivefold criteria:

1. Formal co-operative structure 2. Co-operative structure in the spirit of the Rochdale pioneers 3. Conscious ethical goal of commercial activity 4. Emphasis on local resources and local production for local

consumption, local money flows and employment, local environmental sustainability

5. All or large part of income from own resources

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The key difference with workers’ co-operatives is that the surplus is not

distributed to individuals but reinvested in the work of the organisation. Pearce

(2003) suggests that the distinction between community enterprises and social

enterprises is that the former tend to be focused on more specific localities.

Pearce suggests that community enterprises can be involved in a range of

different activities including providing financial services, housing, community

owned shops, community transport, training, environmental services and

recycling. He also argues that community enterprises have a distinctive value

base which clearly distinguishes them from both private business and from

public enterprise, a value base which puts the emphasis on community

ownership, accountability and benefit.

There is a wide-ranging literature which suggests that community enterprises

offer a mechanism by which places can ‘resist’ the pressures of wider capitalist

economic change (Shuman 2000; Douthwaite 1996; Willamson et al. 2003;

DeFillippis 2004; Pearce 1993; Brandt 1995). Some examples, relating to the

main categories of enterprise found within the literature are detailed in Table 4.1

below.

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Table 4.1: Examples of Community Enterprise Type of community enterprise Description Examples of recent literature

Community Development Corporations (US) Development Trusts (UK)

Organisations that own commercial assets on behalf of a given community undertaking a variety of social and economic functions.

Williamson et al. (2003); Shuman (2000); Stott (2005); Pearce (1993); Zdenek (1987); Green and Haines (2002)

Community Finance Financial institutions that are community owned and provide financial services to a given geographic community. Examples include Credit Unions and Community Development Finance Initiatives. 7 Sometimes also called Microfinance.

DeFilippis (2004); Fuller and Jonas (2003); Roseland and Soots (2007); Williamson et al. (2003); Shuman (2000); Douthwaite (1996); McGeeham and Goggin (2007); Swack (1987)

Community Land Trusts and Housing Co-operatives

Collective ownership of land either for housing or for agricultural production. This reflects one aspect of Community Supported Agriculture (see section 1.4 below). Recent manifestations of Community Land Trusts have included experiments with Low Impact Developments (LIDS) where communities live ‘on the land’ in simple structures and meet some of their needs directly from it. This obviously has some similarity with the ‘commune’ movement and other forms of ‘intentional community’ such as eco-villages. Collective ownership of conventional housing is often known as housing co-operatives.

Douthwaite (1996); Imbroscio (1997); White and Matthei (1987); Green and Haines (2002); Dauncey (1988); Pickerill and Maxey (2009); Soil Association (2005); DeFilippis (2004).

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!7 Community currencies could be included in this section but have been omitted because they are discussed in more detail below.

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The notion of a community enterprise tends to be based on what might be

regarded as a ‘geographic’ notion of community. For example:

The usual interpretation of community in relation to community enterprise is a geographical one where there is a sense of identity within a particular area. Although this cannot be prescribed in terms of population or square miles, a sense of ‘localness’ is important. A second interpretation of community concerns a group with a common need or interest which acts as their ‘common bond’ rather than residence or employment in an area.

(Pearce 1993, 30)

Much of the literature takes a similar line of making strong associations between

geographic notions of community and place. For example, Williamson et al.

(2003, 4) suggest that when a community’s economic base is undermined it leads

to the destruction of accumulated social capital.

4.1.4 Alternative Food Initiatives

Alternative Food Initiatives have emerged in response to a neoliberal global food

economy (Goodman 2003; Hendrickson and Heffernan 2002). 8 Many of these

initiatives have their roots in the ‘countercuisine’ that emerged from the

Counterculture (Belasco 2007; Allen et al. 2002; Sage 2003). Venn et al. (2006),

Hughes (2005) and Holloway et al. (2007) all provide reviews of this extensive

literature. Broadly defined, AFIs consist of a range of local food initiatives that

attempt to reconfigure systems of food provision. Examples include farmers

markets (Holloway and Kneafsey 2002; Alkon 2008) ‘Box schemes’ (Torjusson

et al. 2008) and farm shops (La Trobe 2002) and Community Supported

Agriculture (Feagan and Henderson 2009). Notions of the ‘local’ are very

important to AFIs (Allen et al. 2002) and thus AFIs are often linked to ideas of

food ‘localisation’ (Hinrichs 2001). As such they often attempt to construct

‘shorter’ food chains (Marsden et al. 2000) or connect food consumption and

production to particular places (Harris 2009). Such initiatives are also linked to !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!8 There is some variety in the nomenclature used to describe such initiatives. Goodman (2003) prefers Alternative Agro-Food Networks (AAFNs), whereas other use Alternative Food Initiatives (Allen et al 2002) or Alternative Food Networks (Venn et al 2006).

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the idea of re-embedding economic relationships within social and cultural

relationships (Sage 2003).

4.1.5 Community Currencies

A large recent literature has explored the potential of ‘community’ or

‘complementary’ currencies. These reflect a form of grassroots economic

institution and feature within the Gibson-Graham diverse economy schematic

and also in their most recent paper (Gibson-Graham 2008). Complementary

currencies also featured heavily within green and ‘localist’ literature (Dauncey

1988; Douthwaite 1996; Robertson 1998; Shuman 2000; Cahn 2000; Seyfang

2009). Such currencies are promoted to address a range of perceived ‘failures’ of

the conventional money system (Seyfang 2009, Ch 7), and are sometimes

perceived to represent a potential political challenge to global neoliberalism

(Helleiner 2002; North 2006; 2007). Thorne (1996) argues that they represent a

‘re-embedding’ of exchange within social relationships. Many community

currencies are based on some notion of geographic community or place.

There has been a proliferation of such systems since the mid-1980s when

Michael Linton developed the LETS mutual currency model on Vancouver

Island Canada (Croall 1997) and Edgar Cahn developed the concept of time-

banking in Miami, Florida (Cahn 2000). A third model within North America

and Northern Europe is reflected by, what is termed herein ‘Regiomoney’ such

as the Berkshares currency of upstate New York, and Regiogeld model of

Germany (Gelleri 2009).9 As Hughes’ review article (2005) highlights, there has

been extensive research on the social and economic potential of community

currencies within economic geography and related disciplines.

Of particular relevance here is the research that has explored the potential

economic impact of such currencies. Thus North (2007) draws both on Gibson-

Graham’s work and Foucault’s concept of heterotopia to explore the extent to

which complementary currencies can create economic ‘spaces of liberation’. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!9 It should be noted that the proliferation of complementary currencies is not just a European / North American phenomenon. See Seyfang 2001a, North (2007, Ch. 8), Lietaer (2004).

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Williams et al. (2001) and Seyfang (2001) both argue that LETS enables some

localised trading to take place that would otherwise not have occurred. William’s

(1995) study of the LETS in Totnes also concluded that it made a significant

contribution to members’ purchasing power. Contrastingly, Lee et al. (2004)

conclude that local currency systems are less significance for their material

effectiveness than for their demonstration of the potential proliferation of

economic and financial geographies.

4.1.6 Social markets

Gibson-Graham (2006b, 62) point to the many forms of alternative market in

which commensurability is socially negotiated. However, whilst they point to the

variety of possible ‘non-capitalist’ forms of exchange, it is arguable that within

their own work they do not make a clear theoretical distinction between capitalist

and non-capitalist markets. However, they are not alone in arguing that not all

markets are capitalist (e.g. Shiva 1996; Korten 1999). Inspiration is often drawn

from Polanyi’s (1944 [2001]) concept of embeddedness, describing the way in

which markets are socially constructed and contextualised and can thus be

subordinated to social concerns. Ekins (1992, 327) describes the rise of

‘progressive’ markets by arguing that they relocate ‘the market-place in its

human, social context, and in doing so, imbues it with a powerful potential for

the transformation of traditional markets’. Jacob (2003, 170) discusses the idea

of ‘social markets’ which

demands that all costs in the agricultural production and distribution equation be reflected in commodity prices, as opposed to the nominally free market which ignores social and environmental costs

In describing such markets Jacob draws on Derber et al. (1995) who explore

different models of social markets. Mutersbaugh (2005, 390) makes a similar

distinction as Jacob between conventional markets and social markets arguing

that

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‘intrinsic’ (internal) qualities such as taste, appearance, or chemical composition integral to the product and which may be ascertained by consumers or via downstream product testing, versus ‘extrinsic’ (external) qualities such environmentally friendly or fair-labor production practices that cannot be verified in the final product except via a label or seal attesting to the inclusion of said qualities.

Thus social markets reflect types of goods for which the consumer is willing to

pay more because certain conditions (or ethical considerations) are seemingly

met during the processes of production and distribution, for example organic

agriculture. The additional financial cost of these extrinsic qualities reflects what

has been called a ‘social premium’ (Stott 2005). As such social markets could be

considered as illustrating a way in which markets can be socially re-embedded,

and can allow firms to avoid having to chase economic value at a social or

environmental cost. The rapid growth of fair trade markets reflects an obvious

example of this (Nichols and Opal 2005). Wall (2005) has suggested that

embedded markets are a socialised form of economic activity that represent a

challenge to capitalism and economic growth. Similarly, some advocates of

economic ‘localisation’ also promote the development of local economies and

markets as a form of progressive economic development (Hines 2000; Woodin

and Lucas 2004; McKibben 2007). As Hess (2009) argues such localisation

movements are often an uneasy alliance of small business groups and

‘countercultural’ middle classes. Within the UK the idea of local social markets

is perhaps most clearly illustrated by the rise of ‘local food’ economies (Morris

and Buller 2003).


This section has given an overview of a range of place-based institutions that

appear within the postcapitalist literature. Table 4.2 summarises these institutions

and how they can be considered to be outside ‘Capitalism’.

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Table 4.2: Summary of postcapitalist institutions

The review has also highlighted why it might be expected that there should be a

correlation between Countercultural places and postcapitalist activity. The fact

that for many the Counterculture reflects a rejection of key features of late

(capitalist) industrial modernity indicates an obvious affinity with postcapitalist

institutions. Many of them also reflect examples of social or ecological

entrepreneurship, where new institutions and initiatives are developed to address

perceived socio-economic or ecological problems (Bornstein 2004). Chapter

Three argued that a broader conception of the Counterculture recognises

grassroots institution building as a key strand of activity. For example,

Hetherington (2000) suggests that the free festivals of the 1970s were intended

not only as a critique of the larger commercial festivals but also as a utopian model of an alternative society, aiming to offer an ethos of freedom from constraints and an economy based on reciprocity and gift and around principles of mutual aid rather than money.

Hetherington (2000, 48)

Interstitial political and economic strategies were explicit in the 1970’s ideas of

the ‘Alternative Society’ and are reflected in both the Alternative Pathways and

Alternative Lifestyles that emerged in that era. Such prefigurative strategies have

continued to be associated with more recent manifestations of the Counterculture

including the ‘Alternative Movement’ of the 1980s (Osmond and Graham 1984)

and the DIY Culture of the 1990s where there was an aspiration to build a

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‘parallel economy’ outside capitalism (Plows 1998). More recently, many of the

strategies of the anti-globalisation movement reflect grassroots approaches to

building economic alternatives to capitalism (Starr 2000; Wright 2010). Radical

green politics also places a strong emphasis on interstitial political strategies as

well as various forms of postcapitalist institution building focused on economic

localisation and self-reliance. For example, Curtis (2003, 86) suggests that the

idealised eco-local economy consists of

collectives and co-operatives, buying clubs, community enterprises, not-for-profits, barters and skills exchanges, mutual aid, voluntary activity, household and subsistence production, and what is variously termed the informal or underground sector

Such institutions are interstitial in that they are attempts at ‘delinking’ from the

wider ‘system’. Thus, within the Counterculture there are various movements

and groups committed to building grassroots postcapitalist institutions but to this

date little has been done to understand how such activity unfolds in different

places. Indeed, this section has illustrated how notions of place or community (or

often both) are central all of these different kinds of postcapitalist economic

institutions. As such, ‘community’ is often conceptualised in explicitly

geographic terms in relation to these institutions. Part Two now briefly highlights

some of the evidence that suggests a connection between the geographies of

postcapitalism and the Counterculture.

4.2 Countercultural place and postcapitalism

Part One and the preceding two chapters suggest that there are a number of

reasons to believe that ‘Countercultural’ places might be a productive site for

postcapitalist institutions. However, It has been argued that the academic

literature has to some extent ignored important aspects of the geography of the

Counterculture within the UK. Furthermore, despite the fact that ‘place’ is often

central to the development of postcapitalist institutions, little work has explored

the ‘situated practice’ of such institutions (Amin 2009a). Thus, just as capitalism

has an ‘uneven’ geography (Harvey 2000) then it follows that different places

also have different postcapitalist trajectories and potentialities. Certainly the

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literature offers some hints that there is a relationship between Countercultural

places and postcapitalism.

One example would be the emergence of an established organic agricultural

sector in West Wales (Lampkin 1990; Conford 2008), an area that developed a

strong Countercultural tradition in the 1970s (Saunders 1975). Another example

would be the town of Maleney in Australia that again has a Countercultural

reputation and has developed a strong co-operative sector (Douthwaite 1996;

Jordan 2003). The complementary currencies movement provides some more

examples. Lee et al. (2004) suggest that the Commox Valley (Vancouver Island,

Canada) where the LETS currency was first developed was a site of

countercultural activity. Similarly, Collom (2005) suggests that the Pacific

Northwest and North East United States appear to be more ‘culturally conducive’

to local economic alternatives because they have a stronger liberal or progressive

traditions. This assertion is certainly backed up by Jacob’s et al.’s 2004b study of

Ithaca Hours, which they suggest originated in the city’s ‘bohemian’ and

‘granola’ community. Kockel (1999) also suggests that the countercultural

immigrants of the Western Ireland are heavily involved in informal economic

activity. As indicated here, those studies that do acknowledge the socio-cultural

context of such experiments tend to focus only on one dimension of

experimentation. The rest of this part of the chapter discusses two concepts

which appear regularly within the literature and which might be useful in

understanding the relationship between place and postcapitalism.

4.2.1 Embeddedness

It is notable that the concept of ‘embeddedness’ is invoked in relation to several

of the institutions discussed in Section One above. Embeddedness originates in

the work of Karl Polanyi ([1957] 2001) and was reworked and popularised by

Granovetter (1985). Polanyi’s central argument was that the rise of market

exchange driven by capitalism led to the disembedding of economic activity

from the social and cultural norms which guided the two other modes of

exchange, redistribution and reciprocity. However he also pointed to the way in

which the state plays a key role in creating the institutional framework for the

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market economy to function. Therefore there were two dimensions to his notion

of economic embeddedness: cultural and institutional. In a useful paper Hess

(2004) explores the various meanings of the concept and some of the problems

with it. He offers the following clarification of some of the different disciplinary

usages (Table 4.3).

Table 4.3: Different views of embeddedness based on Hess (2004)

Who? In what? Geographical scale

Polanyi’s Great Transformation

‘The economy’, systems of exchange

‘Society’ social and cultural structures

No particular scale, but emphasis on the nation state

Business systems approach

Firms Institutional and regulatory frameworks

Nation state, ‘home territory’

New Economic sociology

Economic behaviour, individuals and firms

Networks of ongoing social (interpersonal) relations

No particular scale

Economic geography

Firms Networks and institutional settings

Local / regional

The notion of ‘embeddedness’ has been invoked in a number of different ways in

relation to the postcapitalist institutions discussed above. Perhaps the two most

common ‘varieties’ are place embeddedness and moral embeddedness. The

former reflects the way in which postcapitalist institutions might offer the

possibility of re-embedding economic flows and relationships within a given

locality. Such a form of place-embeddedness is linked with many of the AFIs,

Community Currencies and the wider localisation movement and reflect what

Harris (2009) calls ‘process and place’ embeddedness – the idea that certain

economic processes can be embedded ‘in’ place. A second common usage is to

reflect the moral embedding of economic transactions, which suggests that

postcapitalist institutions might be a way of rejecting the instrumentalism of neo-

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liberalism and enable the re-embedding of economic relationships within a

certain social and moral norms (e.g. Thorne 1996).

However, whilst it is argued that such institutions can socio-culturally ‘re-

embed’ economic relations there is also some evidence that the institutions

themselves are socio-culturally embedded, reflecting a third way in which it

might be used. For example, some argue that AFIs tend to be supported by the

affluent middle classes (Hinrichs 2000; Hendrickson and Heffernan 2002).

Socio-cultural embeddedness is therefore one factor that might explain the

geography of postcapitalism. Amin et al.’s (2002) research highlights six

variables that can help to explain the uneven geography of the social economy in

the UK. One of these variables relates to the localised presence of

countercultures:

The presence of voiced minority cultures expressing non-mainstream needs and values…The presence, in different doses and mixes of outreach artists, environmentalists, New Age groups, yeoman values, women’s groups, ethnic minority demands, Quaker, Methodist or other ethical organisations committed to social empowerment, has helped to legitimate and support bottom up initiatives designed to meet social needs or harness alternative economic values (e.g. fair trade, reciprocity, profit sharing)

Amin et al. (2002, 120 – 121)

The concept of embeddedness therefore suggests facets of a locality – including

perhaps countercultural socio-cultural values and networks – might be significant

in creating postcapitalist economic possibilities.

4.2.2 Heterotopia

Some writers have argued that Countercultural sites can create certain kinds of

social space that opens up experimental possibilities. Both Partridge (2006) and

St John (1999) use the anarchist thinker Hakim Bey’s (2003) concept of the

Temporary Autonomous Zone (TAZ) to describe the way in which festivals

create a space for social and cultural experimentation. Hetherington (1996; 2000)

and St John (1999) both draw on the Foucauldian concept of heterotopia to

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explore how certain ‘other places’ create the possibility of other orderings of

things. Hetherington (1996, 38) suggests that

The main principle of hetertopias is that they bring together a collection of unusual things (or discursive statements), and give them a unity of meaning through the production of a space that acts symbolically as a site for the performance of an alternative mode of social ordering.

Similarly, North (2007) links heterotopias with complementary currencies to

develop the idea that the economy could be considered a heterospace arguing

that it

…might then mean the existence of multiple temporal, lasting alternative spaces existing alongside each other, living by different rules, but not being able to impose their values more widely.

North (2007, 35)

Academic interest in the concept of heterotopia grew after the posthumous

publication of a set of Foucault’s lecture notes from 1967 (Foucault 1986).

Foucault suggests that heterotopias were

something like counter-sites, a kind of effectively enacted utopia in which the real sites, all the other real sites that can be found within the culture, are simultaneously represented, contested, and inverted

Foucault (1986, 24)

Genocchio (1995) points out that in actuality two contradictory versions of

heterotopia exist within Foucault’s work, both as an actual site and as a

discursive space and that there is a ‘coherency problem’ as to how heterotopias

can actually exist ‘outside’ other spaces. Despite this, it has been used as a

concept to explore sites that produce ‘reordered’ space. For example, St John’s

(1999) research on the countercultural ConFest in Australia argues that

‘Alternative Lifestyle Events’ can be conceptualised as alternative cultural

heterotopia, of which he defines four dimensions:

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• They are primarily spaces of otherness, that which Foucault has called ‘countersites’

• They are heterogeneous spaces • They are contested spaces • As event spaces they are liminal realms

(adapted from St John 1999, 22 emphases in original)

The idea that liminal space can be produced in certain places is another

theoretical linkage between countercultural space and place and has been adapted

from Turner’s (1969) anthropological work on rites of passage. This is the

argument made by Kevin Shields (1991) in his discussion of Brighton which he

suggests has a reputation (a ‘place myth’) as a liminal destination. Shields (1991,

83) suggests that liminality

occurs when people are in transition from one station in life to another, or from one culturally-defined stage in the life cycle to another

Shields argues that people travel to Brighton to experience liminality, to live

outside their normal patterns of life, but Jobs (2009) also argues that the process

of travel itself can be a liminal experience suggesting that travel and pilgrimage

are liminal space: ‘anti-hierarchical, democratic, and full of potential for

transformation.’ The ‘hippie trail’ to India might be considered as another form

of liminal countercultural space (see also Halfacree 2009).

Soja (1996) draws on the concept of heterotopia and the work of Henri Lefebvre

(1971) to develop the concept of Thirdspace - a ‘trialectics of spatiality’.

‘Firstspace’ is the material, socially produced space of societies in the form of

landscape and buildings. Secondspace reflects ‘representations of space’ that are

constructed by ‘science, planners, urbanists, artists. Such spatiality is

Conceived in ideas about space, in thoughtful, re-presentations of human spatiality in mental or cognitive forms.

Soja (1996) argues that such representations inform the way that we think about

spaces and places and thus have a material impact. ‘Thirdspace’ then reflects the

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‘space of representation’ is lived space that reflects a complex symbiosis of first

and secondspace. Thirdspace reflects the way in which places are experienced,

which is in turn reflected by what we know of them through Secondspace. This

‘trialectics’ of spatiality has been adopted in different ways to explore the

possibility of alternative economic spaces. For example, Halfacree (2007) uses

Lefevbre’s concepts in his exploration of radical ruralities. Contrastingly,

Wolford (2004) illustrates the importance of competing ‘spatial imaginaries’ (i.e.

Secondspaces) in the development of two different Brazilian Landless Workers’

Movement sites. Lefevbre’s and Soja’s work therefore highlights how the

representation and imagination of place can open up different kinds of

possibilities for postcapitalist practice in different places. This thesis adopts the

concept of Thirdspace as a pragmatic framework for thinking about place that

can accommodate a material dimension, ‘spatial imaginaries’ and the lived

spaces of subjects and which allows the interactions between the three to be

explored.

4.3 Conclusions and Research Questions

This thesis seeks to address a number of gaps in the literatures. Most centrally it

seeks to explore the relationship between a Countercultural place and the

formation of postcapitalist institutions. In doing so it seeks to understand the

ways in which such places do or do not support the development of postcapitalist

institutions. Certainly, drawing on the existing literature, there appear to be a

number of reasons to expect why such institutions might flourish in such places.

However, the uneven geography of postcapitalism is not explored within

Gibson-Graham’s work. Certainly whilst place does ‘matter’, they do not explore

the ways in which different places might create different ‘conditions of

possibility’ for postcapitalist experimentation. As North (2008, 481) has argued,

it might be more appropriate to shift focus from the de-industrialised areas that

have been the primary focus of their work and focus instead

on the nonmaterialist or anti-capitalist middle class in the global North who build cooperatives, credit unions, local currency networks, ethical businesses?’

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Thus the research seeks to explore aspects of the ‘situated practice’ of

postcapitalism in the case study area. In doing so it will also assess the extent to

which this case study highlights the existence of proliferative, interstitial

postcapitalism, and by extension, the particular theoretical approach and

economic ontology of Gibson-Graham.

However, to understand properly the ‘situated practice’ it is also necessary to

develop a richer understanding of the context in which such institutions have

emerged. This is not only because there is no existing historical account of the

evolution of Totnes as a site of Countercultural practice but also because such

places have generally been neglected and under-theorised. Therefore the other

primary research objective is to explore the emergence of Totnes as a

Countercultural place. This involves exploring a place whose Countercultural

reputation developed in the 1980s (Heelas 1996, 127) and which has been

particularly associated with ‘New Age’, ‘Green’, or ‘Alternative’ cultures. As

discussed in Chapter Three, scholars have not taken much interest in such places,

and when notions of the Counterculture have been connected to places it is

usually in a fairly narrow sense. Taking a wider view of the Counterculture, this

thesis explores the key processes that led to Totnes ‘becoming’ a Countercultural

place. The research questions are recapped in Figure 4.1 below.

Figure 4.1: Recap of Research Questions

An empirical chapter is dedicated to addressing each of these questions in turn.

Before that, the next chapter sets out the research methodology that was

developed to answer these questions.

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Chapter 5: Research Methodology

This chapter sets out the methodological approach developed to undertake this thesis.

Whilst it could be argued that every methodology is to some extent unique, this

thesis involved some more unusual elements. These included living in the field and

engaging in community activism. The justification for these particular methods is set

out below, along with specific details of the technicalities of the research. Part one

describes what might be described as the broader ‘methodological framework’, the

wider characteristics of the enquiry. Part two details how the specific research focus

was developed. Part Three discusses the specific methods that were utilised, whilst

part Four covers analysis and verification, before Part Five offers some brief

concluding reflections.

5.1 Methodological Framework

5.1.1 A Critical Realist research philosophy

Research methods cannot be separated from their underlying research philosophy

(McKendrick 1999). This section therefore explains the philosophy that underpins

this thesis. As discussed in Chapter One this thesis does not have a comfortable

(sub)-disciplinary home. However, it does have some affinity with what has become

known as Cultural Political Economy (CPE). This itself is a relatively youthful field

of work that seeks to explore the interaction of culture and economy. To some extent

it can be regarded as part of the wider heterodox challenge to neo-classical

economics, and its reduction of the ‘economy’ to abstracted mathematical models

that has included the rise of scholarly work on the cultural economy (e.g. Amin and

Thrift 2004). CPE challenges the abstraction of neo-classical economics by

exploring the co-constitution of the economic and the socio-cultural. As such, those

undertaking CPE are influenced

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not only by ‘classical’ political economy but also by postmodern thinkers. They thereby draw inspiration from ontological and epistemological perspectives other than radical postmodernism and orthodox political economy. They reject both the universalistic/positivistic stand of the latter and the radical relativism of the former. They accept both that reality exists but our knowledge is situated; and they regard social processes as co-constituted by material and semiotic practices.

Ribera-Fumaz (2009, 455)

CPE therefore acknowledges the social construction of knowledge regimes but also

recognises that political economies, at varying scales, have extra-discursive impacts

and tendencies:

Thus ‘cultural political economy’ can be said to involve a critical, self-reflexive approach to the definition and methods of political economy and to the inevitable contexuality and historicity of its claims to knowledge. It rejects any universalistic, positivist account of reality, denies the subject-object duality, allows for the co-constitution of subjects and objects and eschews reductionist approaches to the discipline. However, in taking the ‘cultural turn’, political economy should continue to emphasise the materiality of social relations and the constraints involved in processes that also operate ‘behind the backs’ of the relevant agents.

Jessop and Sum (2001, 94)

The relationship between the tendencies which operate ‘behind the backs’ of agents

and the discursive construction of the economy is therefore a central concern of CPE

and of this thesis. As such Jessop (2004) points to the importance of competing

‘economic imaginaries’ which are discursively constituted but which can lead to

new ‘structural and organisational forms’. The idea that new discourses of the

economy can lead to new institutions and practices is a central argument of J.K.

Gibson-Graham (2006a; b). Indeed their work has been identified as a form of CPE

(Ribera-Fumez 2009; Amin 2009). The fact that they offer a different way of ‘seeing’

the economy would suggest that their work is not premised on pure ontological

relativism. Accepting epistemic relativity but rejecting ontological relativism aligns

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CPE very closely with a Critical Realist research philosophy. Much CPE could be

regarded as adopting a similar philosophical stance. Indeed, as Porter (2002) argues

Critical Realism has abandoned the notion of causal structures and instead adopted

the concept of ‘tendencies’. The exploration of tendencies is a central to CPE (e.g.

Sayer 2001; Jessop and Sum 2001; Jessop 2004) and, as highlighted in the

theoretical chapters, is also central to this thesis.

Castree (1995) argues that Critical Realism offers a ‘third way’ between empiricism

and radical constructivism. He draws attention to the way in which Critical Realism

contains within it a distinction between “intransitive objects of theoretical enquiry”

(which exist and act independently of the theorist) and the “transitive dimension”

that reflects theorists’ conceptual vocabulary. He goes on to quote Bhaskar (1978) to

highlight that Critical Realism

…entails acceptance of (i) the principle of epistemic relativity, which states that all beliefs are socially produced so that all knowledge is transient, and neither truth-values nor criteria of rationality exist outside historical time. But it entails rejection of (ii) the doctrine of judgemental relativism, which maintains that all beliefs are equally valid, in the sense that there can be no rational grounds for preferring one to another. It thus stands opposed to epistemic absolutism and epistemic irrationalism alike.

(Bhaskar 1978, 24 quoted in Castree 1995, emphasis in original)

Similarly, Porter (2002) argues that Critical Realism can be used to underpin a post-

postmodern form of ethnography

… which accepts that there is a reality beyond individuals. But which does not over-extend its claims about how much we can know about that reality (in response to postmodernism) or the degree to which external reality controls the decisions of individuals (in response to phenomenology). In short, what is needed is a realism that is not naïve. (Porter 2002, 60)

By adopting a position of epistemic relativism but rejecting ontological relativism

Critical Realism reflects to some degree a ‘weak’ form of social constructivism, one

which is fairly close to Berger and Luckman’s original formulation (Jones 2002).

Indeed it is arguable that this is the philosophical position adopted by Gibson-

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Graham who posit the existence of a ‘real’ economy that exists outside conventional

economic discourse and offer their own epistemological framework (the diverse

economy) in order to shed light on it.

5.1.2 Case studies

The overall research framework can be regarded as a case study. Colin Robson

(2002) has suggested that every enquiry is a form of case study, in the sense that

they take place in particular places, with particular people. The sense in which case

studies are tied in with localities is reflected in Miles and Huberman’s (1994, 27)

preference for the term site because ‘it reminds us that a “case” always occurs in a

specified social and physical setting’ and that the case and context cannot be

separated. Definitions of case studies are legion, but Punch (2005) provides a useful

summary of four key characteristics. Firstly he suggests that the case is a ‘bounded

study’ and that the researcher needs to be able to describe the boundaries as clearly

as possible. Whilst the data collection has focused in and around the town of Totnes,

it has also involved exploring more distant relational connections too. These

relations and practices fall within the scope of the research, as it does not seem

appropriate to draw an artificial boundary to delineate a rigidly geographical case

study area, particularly as I am interested in the way that relational factors may have

shaped the material development of Totnes. Indeed the process of trying to

understand a Countercultural place requires sensitivity to both material and non-

material processes. Punch’s second criterion is that the case needs to be ‘of

something’. In this case the research is focusing on two ‘somethings’: how and why

Totnes has evolved as a Countercultural place and what kinds of postcapitalist

economic institutions have evolved in the area. Thirdly, a case study should be

‘holistic’ – there is an attempt to preserve the wholeness of the case in question. As

discussed below, it has always been the intention to try and retain a ‘wide angle’ in

relation to the research topic, rather than examine in minute detail, one aspect of

postcapitalist economic activity. Fourthly, a case study allows multiple sources of

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data and multiple data collection methods to be used, with ‘naturalistic’ techniques

typically central to the approach.

Robson (2002) suggests that the case study approach can be regarded as being

appropriate for the study of (geographic) communities, both as a means of analysing

the relationships between the members of the community and as a means of theory

testing. Stake (1995) identifies three main types of case study: intrinsic, instrumental

and multiple. This particular case study can be considered to be both intrinsic and

instrumental. It is intrinsic in that it is focused on researching the particular

economic institutions in a specific locality. In this sense it is addressing Lawson’s

(2005) point that we need to know what kind of ‘diverse’ economic practices are

possible in different places. However, it can also be considered instrumental in that

it is hoped that the specific case of Totnes will provide insights that enable us to

interrogate theories of postcapitalist possibility as well as the conceptualisation of

countercultural place.

A case study is not a methodology in itself; it is a methodological framework that

can incorporate the use of a variety of data collection methods to study a given

phenomenon with in a defined site. The flexibility that this approach can provide is

suitable when the exact nature of the phenomena in question is not understood and

the research process may need to be developed as time in the field progresses. In this

sense the case study can start as an ‘exploratory’ mode of enquiry which develops

into a more ‘explanatory’ mode at a later stage (Robson 2002). Therefore a key

strength of organising research around the concept of the case study is that the study

is necessarily unfolding, with the researcher unable to be overly prescriptive about

the direction it might take, particularly in early stages (Punch 2005). However, that

does not mean that it is appropriate to enter the field without any framework in place

at all (Miles and Huberman 1994), hence the importance of Gibson-Graham’s work

in providing a broad framework for exploring postcapitalist possibilities.

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5.1.3 An ethnographic approach

This PhD research had a strong ethnographic core because I lived in the field for a

period of two and a quarter years. Indeed, I specifically moved to Totnes for the

purpose of the research. It could be argued that this approach is unusual because it is

neither ethnography of a community which is radically unfamiliar in the traditional

sense of the approach, nor is it the multi-sited ethnography which has become a

popular method for studying the impact of globalisation, following the work of

Burawoy et al. (2000). Nor does my work follow the conventional model of a PhD

where the researcher is based primarily within an academic institution and then

‘goes out’ into the field to gather their data. In fact it is almost opposite, in that I ‘left’

the field to enter the formal spaces and processes of scholarly research, a factor that

contributed to an unusual research positionality, discussed further in the next section.

There has been an increasing interest in the use of ethnographic methods within

geography in recent years. As a method, ethnography has its roots in social

anthropology (Denscombe 1998). However, despite the emphasis on an

ethnographic approach, it should be emphasised that this research should not be

considered an ‘economic anthropology’ of Totnes. As Rankin (2003) has noted,

anthropologists have a tendency to assume an isomorphism between place and

culture. Similarly, Mullings (1999) suggests that ethnographers tend to provide an

in-depth understanding of a particular social group. From my early engagements

within the field it became clear that there was a certain degree of (counter)cultural

heterogeneity within Totnes. An economic anthropological approach would need to

identify and select one such ‘community’ and explore its economic practices in

depth. I felt that such an approach would be too narrow and would not allow an

investigation into the way that different economies are connected or the gaps

between them.

Hendry (2003) has noted a distinction needs to be made between ethnography as a

process of writing, and ethnography as a methodological approach. A further

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confusion can arise within the research methods literature, where the terms

ethnography and participant observation are sometimes used synonymously.

Hoggart et al. (2002) distinguish between ethnography and participant observation

by suggesting that the former is a methodology that embraces multiple methods

including participant observation as a ‘core feature’ (ibid, 253). Suttles (1976)

claims that ethnography consists of ‘shameless eclecticism’ and ‘methodological

opportunism’ emphasising the flexibility of the approach. Yet, as Maxey (1999) has

also observed, all research involves a certain degree of opportunism. Therefore a

balance was struck between sticking to a well-planned methodological approach but

which was flexible enough to allow adaption and development when required.

The adoption of a broadly ethnographic approach was based on the contention that it

would be necessary to immersing myself in the field would provide a deeper

understanding of the place. This meant that the research had a strong core of Metis in

that it consists of ‘forms of knowledge embedded in local experience’ (Scott (1998)

quoted in Pretty 2002, 149). It thus enabled me to develop a deeper, personal

knowledge of the place than I would have otherwise obtained. Such knowledge

proved invaluable in the more formal data collection activities and also enabled me

to be more critical about the different claims that other people made about the place.

The other primary motivation was that living in the field would enable me to build

up relationships of trust and social networks that would provide access to subjects

and data. This was particularly significant early on when it was less clear which

direction the detailed research was going to go, and could have involved engaging

with the informal or even criminal economies. Even though it did not end up going

down that path, there is no doubt that living in the field gave me access to data that

would have otherwise been undiscovered.

Following the completion of the majority of the data collection, my family and I

moved away from Totnes in October 2008. The decision to leave was a complex and

difficult one, involving personal and professional factors. From a research point of

view the most significant factor was to ensure that my departure from the Totnes

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Pound project was not overly disruptive and would jeopardise its future operation

(see Section 3.1 below). For this reason I ensured that I gave plenty of notice to my

fellow organisers and undertook a formal handover of my responsibilities.

5.1.4 Research positionality

Punch (2005), amongst others, has argued that the strength of an ethnographic

approach is that it allows an ‘insider’s perspective’ along with the study of a

phenomena in its natural setting. Living in the field therefore offers a way of moving

from being an ‘outsider’ to becoming at least an ‘insider’ in some senses. However,

it is important to recognise that there are different depths and dimensions of being an

‘insider’. Thus, whilst on one level I was an ‘insider’ whilst I was a resident of

Totnes, I was also still a ‘blow in’, ‘incomer’ or ‘Greckle’ 10, part of the wider wave

of in-migration that the South West of the United Kingdom has experienced in

recent years. Furthermore, even when I was an ‘insider’, I was only inside certain

groups, communities and networks within the area and remain outside others from

which Totnes would appear and be experienced very differently. For example, many

of my close contacts came through the Transition Town Totnes network (see Section

3.1 below), and not other social or activist networks that were in the area.

Furthermore, my personal life affected the people who I came into contact with. My

status as a married man with two small children (one born in Totnes) influenced

whom I came into contact with. My age, as a ‘mature’ PhD student will also have

influenced both the circles I moved in and how I was treated. Again, different

personal circumstances would have shaped the way the thesis evolved.

It is also simplistic to assume that ‘insider’ status will necessarily always guarantee

better access to information and greater levels of trust with respondents. Herod

(1999) has argued that it can sometimes be advantageous to be an ‘outsider’. He

problematises the straightforward insider / outsider binary, suggesting instead a

10 ‘Greckle’ is a Devonian term for someone who is not from Devon, often used to refer to tourists but also to other ‘outsiders’

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‘sliding scale of intimacy’. Mullings’ (1999) criticism of the insider / outsider binary

is that it obscures the dynamism of positionalities over time and through space. She

suggests that researchers should seek ‘positional spaces’, in other words shared

positionalities that engender a level of trust and co-operation. Such positionalities

could include dimensions such as race, gender or professional status. Mullings (1999)

goes on to suggest that being geographically ‘local’ can form a positional space that

elicits a greater amount of information from interviewees. I certainly benefitted from

such shared positionalities and would argue that the research approach I took did

enable me to benefit from insider status and elicit data that otherwise would have not

been available.

Positionality is therefore a dynamic, relational and multi-dimensional concept,

which can be influenced by our intrinsic characteristics, our social roles and our

identities. Herod (1999) has also written about the way in which different identities

can be manipulated in different situations. Therefore the reflexive researcher needs

to be aware that different identities will offer the opportunity for the realisation of

various shared positional spaces. Being reflexive about your positionality can

therefore be regarded as an ongoing process of negotiating different identities in

different situations. However, it is important to note that these different identities

and roles exist simultaneously and are not adopted in a serial fashion. Therefore,

within Totnes I was always a resident and always a researcher, it is just that at

certain points different roles were more prominent, both in my public identity and in

my own mind. In addition to resident and researcher, I also developed a role as a

community activist. This has offered the opportunity to create a different set of

positional spaces with potential respondents and to become an insider (and outsider)

in different networks and communities. Thus, whilst that many of my friends and

contacts knew that I was doing research, it was only during the interviews that I

actually adopted the more formal identity and practices of a researcher. In some

cases, with people who I already knew, the formality that this bought with it (such as

signing a consent form) seemed strange but necessary.

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5.1.5 Multi-Method research

McKendrick (1999) notes that geography has a long tradition of methodological

experimentation. In recent years the qualitative and cultural ‘turns’ have seen the

range of methodological tools expand further, along with a corresponding debate

about their merits and weaknesses. To avoid the charge of methodological

eclecticism it is incumbent upon the researcher to justify why particular methods

have been combined, something that, as Baxter and Eyles (1997) have noted, is often

lacking. Researcher reflexivity must encompass an explication of the reasons that

different methods have been utilised. This thesis combines a number of qualitative

methods. There are two overlapping reasons that justify the particular combination

of methods adopted within this thesis and the choice not to utilise quantitative

methods. Firstly, as will be discussed in more detail below, the use of multiple

methods is often employed as a form of ‘methodological triangulation’ in order to

underpin the rigour and validity of the research. Secondly, a multi-method approach

can also be justified in terms its ability to generate different data from

complementary methods. Thus, McKendrick (1999, 42) argues that multi-methods

can be useful where there is a lack of existing data, allowing for a ‘cross-fertilization

of insights from different methods.’ This concurs with Denzin and Lincoln’s (2005,

25) assertion that case study research consists of the complementary methods of

interviewing, observation and documentary research, all employed, to some extent

within this research. Part three details the specific methods that were combined

within this research, before that Part Two details how the research focus evolved.

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5.2 Developing the research focus

5.2.1 Selection of the case study location

The market town of Totnes in Devon was selected from amongst a number of areas

provisionally identified through a review of the academic and popular literature. As

detailed in previous chapters there are a number of areas that have reputations for

either density of ‘alternative’ cultures or economic experimentation. Possible case

study areas included west/mid Wales, west Ireland, southwest France and Freiburg

in Germany. The latter two areas were not possible because of language barriers;

Ireland was not suitable due to family commitments, which left parts of Wales and

the southwest UK.

Totnes and its immediate hinterland were selected as the study area for a number of

reasons. Firstly, Totnes features prominently within the postcapitalist literature,

described as a ‘hotbed of economic experimentation’ (Douthwaite 1996, 349; see

also Dauncey 1986; 1988). The only academic research into this side of Totnes was

a study by Colin Williams (1995) into the Totnes LETS community currency

scheme in the mid-1990s. He suggests that ‘although the geography of the

'alternative/green culture' has yet to be written, Totnes may well be considered one

of its centres.’ Although his research focuses on only one ‘postcapitalist’ institution

he notes that with over 250 members it was at the time of writing one of the largest

rural LETS schemes in the UK. Totnes is also mentioned with the literature on the

‘New Age’ as one of its centres (Heelas 1995; 2005; Hetherington 2000) but its

development as such as ‘centre’ is not discussed. The town also had similar

reputation within the mass media. It has been described within the Observer

newspaper as the ‘alternative capital of the UK,’ (Siegle 2005) and recently in the

Sunday Telegraph as ‘the Capital of New Age chic’ (Edwards 2007). This reputation

is also acknowledged by a senior local authority officer, the Director of Environment,

Economy and Culture at Devon County Council who has described Totnes as ‘a

Mecca for alternative cultures’ (Chorlton, 1993, 61). Similar descriptions can be

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found in tourist guides. For example, Britain: The Rough Guide describes Totnes as

‘enjoying an esoteric fame as a centre for the New Age arts-and-crafts crowd’

(Andrews et al., 2000, 320). These different sources indicate that Totnes’ reputation

as site of Countercultural activity exists within a range of different discourses, but

without ever having been comprehensively researched.

Initial field visits confirmed these impressions and the fact that there appeared to be

something culturally ‘different’ about the area and certainly the existence of a

variety of postcapitalist institutions such as explicitly ‘green’ businesses and a town

centre that consisted, unusually, of a high density of small retailers. Furthermore I

was aware that a new grassroots experiment – Transition Town Totnes - was due to

be launched in September 2006, corresponding with the start of my research. I

rightly anticipated that this might provide a contemporary example of an interstitial

approach to economic development and an opportunity for participatory research, as

discussed further below.

5.2.2 Developing the research focus

Punch (2005) argues that with a case study the researcher needs to find a balance

between establishing a broad framework to what you are doing and not conceptually

closing things down before you enter the field. The research in Totnes could be

described as a two-phase process, in which the first stage was an exploratory and the

second more focused. In order to start exploring the Countercultural and

postcapitalist practices within the field, Phase One involved a process of broad

categorical mapping. Similar to the schematic approach used by Gibson-Graham

(2006b) and within Asset Based Community Development (Kretzman and

McKnight 1993) this was a process of descriptive mapping, organising different

aspects of the wider ‘alternative’ culture within the area under a set of evolving

categories, as well as the range of postcapitalist economic practices. The purpose of

this process was to try and capture a wide-ranging picture of ‘alterity’ within the

area and to provide a platform for the more detailed Phase Two of the research.

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Understanding the broader historical and socio-economic context is an important

part of understanding why certain practices may or may not have developed within

the area. The mapping categories evolved and emerged through both fieldwork and

through reference to the literature in an ongoing reflexive process. Research themes

also emerged throughout the whole research process (Cope 2003). The categorical

mapping provided an initial overview of some of the key areas of significance and

was the foundation for the more detailed second phase of research. Phase One ran in

parallel with the initial literature reviewing. It was therefore during this phase that I

discovered that the range of activities that had developed in the area did not easily fit

into existing notions of ‘countercultural’ places and I began to try and develop a

broader notion, which eventually evolved into the typology outlined in Chapter Two.

Furthermore, I discovered that there was no existing literature (academic, grey or

otherwise) which dealt with the evolution of Totnes as an ‘alternative’ place. Had

such sources existed, there would have been no need to undertake that strand of

research and the empirical work could have focused in more depth much more on

the postcapitalist economy. However, its concern with the ‘situated practice’ of

postcapitalism meant that it was necessary to developing an understanding of the

socio-cultural context from which such postcapitalist experiments had emerged.

Thus during this phase the most ‘significant’ aspects of Countercultural activity

were indentified for further investigation in Phase Two.

During the first phase of the research a number of different research foci were

explored in parallel with initial engagements with the field, literature reviewing and

theoretical development. As discussed within Chapter Two, Gibson-Graham’s

diverse economy is a hybrid framework that brings together a number of different

‘forms’ of postcapitalist practice, institution and relationship. Having decided not to

use the whole framework, Phase 1 involved deciding which aspects to focus upon.

One option was to focus on individuals and the different ways in which they engage

in non-capitalist economic activity. The second option was to focus on the

development of different kinds of postcapitalist institution, which was the eventual

chosen route. However, early on in the PhD there was the possibility that either

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approach could have been taken. One conceptual framework that was explored was

the Capabilities Approach, following the work of the development economist

Amartya Sen (Clarke 2005). This is a research framework which has mainly been

adopted in the South but which has been advocated for greater use in Northern

research (Korf and Oughton 2006). The capabilities approach is of particular utility

in looking at how households or individuals construct their economic relationships

(see for example Oughton and Wheelock 2003 on small businesses). Such an

approach would be productive for exploring how certain groups construct their

livelihoods and whether living in the Totnes area allows people to ‘escape’

capitalism to some degree.

However, there were a number of issues that led me to select an institutional

approach as opposed to a lifestyle approach. The first was a sampling issue – exactly

whose lifestyles was I investigating? This approach requires a fairly strict and

bounded sampling strategy, to culturally delineate the group of study (O’Leary

2004). My early fieldwork was highlighting a certain degree of cultural

fragmentation and heterogeneity that challenged the conventional categories of

‘Alternative Types’ or ‘Hippies’. To overcome this it might have been possible to

define a fairly homogenous sub-set of the wider Countercultural community but this

would have meant narrowing the overall research focus, something that, as discussed

further below, I was not keen to do. Furthermore, as I did my initial mapping it

became clear to me that there were people who lived ‘outside’ of the conventional

housing system, either in caravans, benders, or in sheds for example. It might have

been possible to construct a sample from such a group of people and the way in

which they constructed their livelihoods would have been an interesting

investigation. However, my concern was that by focusing on them I would have

drawn attention to their lifestyles and, bearing in mind the illegality, threatened their

ability to continue to live in this way. To research such a phenomenon would have

required me to be able to conceal not only their identities but also the site of research

to avoid future repercussions. An interesting study no doubt, but not possible in the

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context of the way the research was being undertaken and the wider questions about

the shaping of a place.

As I undertook the initial ‘mapping’ of the area it became clear that there was also

the potential to narrow the focus and explore in depth just one specific aspect of the

postcapitalist economy. For example: intentional communities, the local currency

experiments, or the local biodynamic agricultural sector. Whist in some ways this

would have been easier, I also resisted the temptation to narrow the focus on just one

of the phenomena in the area. Instead I aspired to retain a wider focus that cut across

different kinds of institution. Therefore, throughout the thesis I was keen not to

undertake a ‘micro-scale’ study but do something which was more meso-scale and

spoke of the perceived diversity and complexity, even thought this almost certainly

made it a much more difficult endeavour.

One particular area of focus that did emerge during Phase 1 was the role of

‘Dartington’. Dartington was a ‘utopian experiment’ established in the 1920s by

Dorothy and Leonard Elmhirst on a large estate in the village of Dartington just

outside Totnes. Now existing as the charitable Dartington Trust, it has in its history

engaged in a range of pioneering activities in the arts and crafts, education,

agriculture and housing as well as engaging in a range of economic activities. My

initial fieldwork led me quickly to understand that Dartington was attributed with

having a considerable impact both on the development of Totnes as an ‘alternative’

cultural centre and on the fact that the area has been a site of economic

experimentation. Whilst there is some literature on different aspects of Dartington,

there was nothing that explicitly explored its connections to the Counterculture.

Again, doctoral research could be (and has been) undertaken on just one aspect of

Dartington such has been the scope of its work and legacy. Again, in the research

that I undertook, I attempted to retain a slightly wider focus, to try and establish its

particular role in the development of Countercultural activity in the area and how

this related to Totnes’ development as an ‘alternative’ centre. Figure 5.1 below

summarises the overall process through which the research focus was refined.

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Fig 5.1: Two phases of research

It should be noted that this is a somewhat simplified representation of how the

research was phased. In particular, the different data collection aspects of Phase 2

started at different points in time. The specific of these methods are discussed in the

next section.

5.3 Research Methods

This part of the chapter details the particular research methods that were adopted

within the thesis.

5.3.1 Participatory research through community activism

In her review of recent developments in social geography, Rachael Pain (2003)

suggests that research which embraces activism is growing in both popularity and

confidence. A distinction needs to be made between the practical issues of

combining research practice with activism and the broader arguments about

politically engaged scholarship. This section engages with both issues, as part of a

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wider discussion about the merits and pitfalls of combining activism and research,

before then detailing the specifics of they way in which activism was incorporated

into the research strategy of this thesis.

On moving to Totnes to start the research, I made a conscious decision to get

involved in the Transition Town Totnes (TTT) initiative. The motivation for getting

involved in community activism was twofold. Firstly, I felt it was good way to get

involved in the community, to move from being an ‘outsider’ to becoming an

‘insider’ within certain networks or communities and thus fitted well with the

broadly ethnographic approach to the research. In particular it seemed a good way of

beginning to explore the existing ‘alternative’ economic practices, and who was

involved in them. TTT offered the added advantage that it was a new initiative, so

integration would be potentially easier than with a group that was already well

established. Secondly, I shared what Routledge (1996) calls ‘a politics of affinity’

with the Transition Towns initiative in that I had some sympathy with its objectives.

However, very early in the research process I had to consider how best to manage

the potential tensions and criticisms of combining activism with academic research.

(i) Combining activism and academic research

One way in which my own situation differed from many academics who have

written on this subject is my own positionality vis a vis the academy. The literature

on activism and research tends to treat the academy as ‘home’, the central question

is how to justify and defend activism within a professional academic context (see for

example Routledge 1996). This shapes the way in which the debate is framed: it is a

debate about activism by academics that is carried out in academic journals and

conferences.11 Not only does this mean that the debate is one sided (it is not about

combining academic work with activism) but it also unavoidably subordinates

‘activism’ as one facet of their ‘becoming’ as a professional scholar. Thus writing

11 One could also point to the way in which activist literature is, with a few exceptions, generally ignored within academic scholarship, a fact which reinforces the impression that scholarship only occurs ‘within’ the academy, and more particularly the pages of peer reviewed journals.

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about ‘activism’ becomes a facet of an academic’s professional and intellectual

output. Therefore, despite the emphasis on finding a mutually reinforcing ‘thirdspace’

(Routledge 1996; 2003; Anderson 2002; Mason 2007) that allows activism and

academia to be productively integrated, there is an unwitting bias which privileges

the academy as the site of paid employment, and which treats activism as something

subordinate, which, because it is often not paid, is not ‘work’. Whilst Maxey (1999)

is right to point to the way in which the ‘activist’ is discursively produced, so too is

the ‘academic’. Therefore within the debate on integrating academic work and

activism it is still the latter which is given more importance, even the most

passionate advocates of activism tend to treat activism as a problem that needs to be

addressed. The point is that the debate about combining activism and academia, not

withstanding the evident ‘critical reflexivity’ and enthusiasm of many of its

advocates, is still embedded within the political economy of the academy and from

an overwhelmingly ‘insider’ perspective.

Contrastingly, I undertook my research fieldwork with a more complex positionality

that combined the identities of a social economy professional, a community activist

and an ‘early career’ academic. At the time of undertaking the research, there was no

clear hierarchy with these roles, and which of them felt like ‘home’ at any given

point tended to vary over time and location. Indeed, one of the motivations for

undertaking the thesis was to bring the rigour of scholarship to the areas of

professional interest and activism in which I had previously been engaged. Therefore,

as well as being physically located outside the academy, I was also an outsider in a

professional sense. In contrast, to the conventional academic standpoint, I saw

scholarship as being instrumental to improving my knowledge and professional /

community practice, not just as the means by which I could establish a professional

career within the academy. Therefore my own personal politics and values were

central to the endeavour. But then since the ‘reflexive turn’, most academics now

accept that personal politics impact on all academic work. St Louis and Calabrese

(2002, unpaginated) have argued that the subjectivity of researchers consists of

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…the life experiences that researches have had as well as the social, cultural, and political factors that influence an individual and how those experiences and factors contribute to biases and assumptions in the type of research that researchers choose to engage in.

Donna Haraway (1991) refers to such subjectivities as the ‘maps of consciousness’

of researchers. Within the field of economics, this personal subjective context

reflects what Schumpeter (1954) calls the economist’s ‘pre-analytic view’. In other

words, as is now widely accepted in the social sciences, there is no purely objective

starting point from which a researcher departs. Reflexivity is therefore often invoked

as a necessary condition of combining activism and academic work, the consequence

of reflexivity is to lay bare the subjectivities and assumptions that underpin an

academic’s work, both to themselves and to their peers. Intellectual transparency

should therefore be a consequence of the process of reflexivity. Transparency

actually opens up the research to a more thorough scrutiny of its rigour, the

cornerstone of good scholarship, by exposing the philosophical starting point of the

academic. Rigour is a qualitative concept and one that can be used to interrogate

both academic argument and the processes of research. Baxter and Eyles (1997)

describe rigorous research as that which satisfies the criteria of credibility,

transferability, dependability and confirmability. Rigour delineates the committed

scholar from the polemicist. Combining rigour and transparency confirms Fuller’s

(1999) argument that it is possible to be both committed and critical when

combining activism with academia.

Engaging in community activism also ‘fitted’ well with the research praxis

advocated by Gibson-Graham. Indeed, Gibson-Graham (2006b) are themselves

advocates of research that adopts an explicitly political stance and advocate the use

of action research methods. Their rationale for this approach is that:

In action research interventions we aim to show how enlarging the field of credible experience might become a prelude increasing the possibilities for economic experimentation around development (Gibson-Graham 2005a, 6).

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More recently they have described this as adopting a ‘performative’ epistemology

(Gibson-Graham 2008). As explored in Chapter Two, a key focus of their work is

explicitly about changing ontological framings of the economy and constructing

alternative economic discourses and practices. A key advantage of this

methodological approach is that it can generate experiential data about the

phenomena that a researcher is exploring. Indeed, as the sociologist Kurt Lewin

argued, ‘the best way to understand something is to try and change it’ (quoted in

Hoggart et al. 2002, 289). In this sense it can be a genuinely ‘experimental’ form of

data collection, rather than the form of retrospective critique that typifies much

academic work.

(ii) Community activism as a form of ‘giving back’

Community activist research can also provide a mechanism by which the academic

can ‘give back’ to the community with which they are working. As Kitchin and

Hubbard (1999) have argued, only a minority of geographers seek to address the

power imbalances that exist between researcher and researched through the marriage

of research practice and political and social actions. They point at the need to

maintain the ‘partitioning’ of academic knowledge in order to maintain the privilege

of ‘academic’ credentials. They go onto suggest that action research methods may

‘offer a route for geographers to combine a role of activist with putative academic’

(ibid, 196). My research cannot be considered as ‘traditional’ action research, not

least because I entered the field with the broad contours of my research already

defined, rather than letting the purpose of the research emerge through a

participatory process. Nor has it followed the iterative model of ‘Plan’, ‘Act’ and

then ‘Reflect’ in iterative cycles (Stringer 1999). Nor is my approach the same as the

academics whose process of giving back is to study the movement in which they

participate (e.g. Maxey 1999; Routledge 1996) Instead, my approach can best be

described as reciprocal activism, where my activism has become part of a process of

giving back to the community.

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Mason (2007) has argued there are two ways for researchers to ‘give back’ through

activism, either through their ‘work’ or in a more direct, practical ways. The

argument that reciprocity should extend further than just giving back through

academic work is rooted within the feminist critiques of academic praxis (Pain 2004).

Drawing on her own experiences researching the Tibetan government, McConnell

(2007) argues that activism can form a legitimate process of giving back where it is

complementary to the research but not directly linked. She argues that in addition to

being a process of giving back to the community it also can act as a means of

gaining access to the community and as a way of ‘being’ in the field. All three

dimensions are relevant to my experience in Totnes, where as a consequence of my

activism I gained knowledge and understanding of the research field that would have

been difficult for an ‘external’ researcher to access. In return I have contributed my

time, knowledge and professional skills to community initiatives. At the start of my

involvement I did not know to what extent my research would focus on the

community projects with which I was involved, but I did not expect it solely or

specifically to focus on these activities. I have always been an ‘overt participant’

(Cook 2005) open about my research into the ‘alternative’ economy in Totnes and

provided further information as required. I was also explicit that I hope that my

activism will be of both of benefit to my wider research and to the community itself,

the basic sense in which it can be regarded as reciprocal. Importantly though, it is

the sharing a ‘politics of affinity’ with the projects I have supported also takes the

process beyond a solely functional research relationship. Beyond, the need to justify

the validity of combining activism and research, the biggest problem of taking such

an approach is the commitment of time it requires, a factor recognised by other

academics (Routledge 1996). Undertaking community activism within the social

economy means committing considerable time to the ‘extraordinarily ordinary’

(Amin 2009b), as testified by my research diaries. Davison (2006, 217) captures this

tension well with his description of a Community Garden Management Committee

who

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…found themselves bogged down in the complex workings of the business, discussing turnover, taxation law, business plans and stock control rather than the matters of social and ecological vision that had motivated their involvement.

Such activities are often overlooked in romantic depictions of the social economy

and postcapitalism. Furthermore, from the perspective of an action-researcher, the

time to data ratio generated by such activities is not favourable and involves

spending considerable amounts of time on activities which are not valued within the

political economy of academia, whilst also deflecting attention from those which are,

such as writing papers for publication.

(iii) Community activism with Transition Town Totnes

My community activism within Totnes was primarily through participation within

the Transition Town Totnes (TTT) initiative. TTT started in September 2006, just

over a month after my family and I moved to Totnes. The purpose of Transition

Town Totnes was to develop a localised community response to the perceived threat

of Peak Oil. Peak Oil refers to the temporal point when the maximum global supply

of oil is reached and the rate of supply subsequently begins to decline. In recent

years a disparate group of writers, ex oil industry workers, geologists and activists

have been arguing that, contrary to the position of international bodies such as the

International Energy Association (IEA) and national governments, that the peak is

imminent and that it will have profound effects on a civilisation that is underpinned

by ‘cheap oil’. It should be noted that since TTT started in September 2006 the

prospect of Peak Oil has become much more widely discussed, not least due to a

significant spike in oil prices in the summer of 2008. Indeed, the position of the IEA

– the official body responsible for predicting levels of production and reserves –

appears to have shifted towards an earlier peak (Macalister and Monbiot 2008).

Business groups have also begun to lobby for more government intervention in this

area (The UK Industry Taskforce on Peak Oil and Energy Security 2008, 2010).

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The Transition Town process is intended to lead to the creation of a community led

Energy Descent Action Plan (EDAP) that maps out the way to a low-carbon future

for a given settlement. The ecologists Odum and Odum (2001) developed the

concept of ‘energy descent’ to describe the transition away from a society whose

energy consumption is based primarily on fossil fuels. The Transition Town model

is centrally concerned with the building of parallel infrastructure covering a range of

different systems of provision (Bailey et al. 2010). There therefore is a strongly

interstitial ethic to the Transition movement. Indeed it draws heavily on the ‘radical’

economic idea of relocalisation (Hopkins 2008). Since its launch in September 2006,

Transition Town Totnes has evolved into a ‘global’ Transition ‘movement’ with 243

official Transition initiatives established by November 2009 and hundreds of

‘mullers’ who were considering establishing an initiative. Whilst most of these

initiatives were based in the UK they exist also in wider Europe, North America,

Australasia and Japan (Bailey et al. 2010). As an arguably ‘new’ social movement,

the Transition movement has received increasing attention from the media,

environmental activist networks and the research community (Bailey et al. 2010;

Brook 2008; North 2010; Haxeltine and Seyfang 2009; Chatterton and Cutler

2008).12

The TTT structure involves a number of thematic groups that act as loose

coordinating bodies for projects and activities.13 As well as attending numerous

events it was through such groups that my activism was manifested. In November

2006 I became involved in a group that was planning a local food directory. My

early fieldwork had highlighted the presence of an interesting local food economy

(see chapter 7). I felt that involvement in this group would increase my knowledge

of the local food economy whilst I would also be ‘giving back’ by assisting with the

12 Whilst the Transition movement itself could be regarded as a ‘new’ form of ‘post-carbon’ social movement (see Seyfang et al. forthcoming) many of its underlying assumptions and concerns are closely aligned with those that sparked the first wave of environmentalism in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Indeed the prospect of imminent resource depletion was a key narrative of this movement first articulated in the 1972 publication of The Limits to Growth from the Club of Rome. Furthermore, the geological concept of Peak Oil was developed by M. King Hubbert (1956) who accurately predicted the ‘peaking’ of US production in 1970. 13 For a more detailed description of the Transition Town process see Hopkins and Brangwyn (2007)

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production of a ‘public’ knowledge (see Transition Town Totnes 2007, 2008). I was

transparent with the group about my research and that my involvement with the

group could be useful to it, but that the group itself was not a direct focus of my

research. Instead, involvement in the group provided access to local knowledge,

networks and a practical way of giving back. Day-to-day activities within the group

involved attending meetings and assisting with the research and preparation of the

guide. I also utilised my ‘professional’ skills to write a funding application that

secured £2,800 towards the costs of producing a second version of the Local Food

Guide.

In December 2006 I also became part of the embryonic Economics and Livelihoods

group. Again, the Economics and Livelihoods group seemed a good opportunity to

get involved in the community and find out about the existing local initiatives whilst

also making a contribution. The early stages of this voluntary work involved

assisting with the planning and execution of the launch of the Economics and

Livelihoods Group and an Open Space day in May 2007.14 However, following its

launch, the Economics and Livelihoods group evolved into a group of local

economy related projects. My main involvement continued through involvement in

the Totnes Pound project, a community currency that was launched in May 2007.

Obviously being involved in the development of a ‘new’ community currency was

an opportunity to experience first hand the process of attempting to establish a

postcapitalist economic institution in Totnes. It was also a good way to engage with

some of the local businesses and allowed me to develop a different ‘activist’ related

identity to that of my work with the food directory group. My participation in the

Totnes Pound project entailed being a member of the core group who managed and

attempted to develop the currency. Throughout my involvement I undertook a wide

range of activities including project administration, recruiting businesses, preparing

project literature, and media interviews. The Totnes Pound became one of the

flagship initiatives within the wider Transition movement. In order to gather data on

14 ‘Open Space’ is a particular type of consultative technology that has been adopted by the TTT process. See Owen (1998). At the Economics and Livelihoods Open Space I ran a session on the ‘diverse economy’ that provoked an interesting discussion.

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my involvement I kept, with the permission of the wider group, a separate detailed

ethnographic log between March 2008 and October 2008 when I left the field along

with other project literature such as minutes of meetings. I also conducted a small

focus group with two other members of the Totnes Pound group towards the end of

my time working on the project. The experience with the Totnes Pound does not

feature centrally within the thesis although the experience was used to triangulate

with other community based economic projects. It has also been written up in more

detail in Longhurst (2010a).

Beyond the day-to-day activism with TTT, I contributed to debates about the

emerging legal and management structure of TTT drawing on my ‘third sector’

management experience. I wrote some short articles for non-academic publications

that raise awareness of the Transition Town process (Longhurst 2007a, 2007b). I

also helped to develop some research protocols for the Transition Network and

arranged the first research workshop for researchers interested in the movement.

Indeed, I had the novel experience of being interviewed by an academic researcher

whilst undertaking my own research. Whilst I was living in Totnes I would describe

my positionality within TTT as have being on the edge of the ‘inner circle’. I was

not involved in central decision-making and did not attend the ‘core group’ (main

decision making body), primarily because of time constraints. My involvement in all

these activities has certainly played a significant part in deepening my understanding

of Totnes, identifying key informants, building trust and networks, and in providing

specific data for both the initial ‘mapping’ and the subsequent purposive sampling of

interview subjects.

5.3.2 Qualitative interviewing

Qualitative interviewing was used to explore in more depth the development,

perspectives and experiences of ‘postcapitalist’ institutions in the Totnes area as well

as some of the key areas of countercultural practice. Following the decision to focus

on ‘institutional’ forms of postcapitalist practice, a period of qualitative interviewing

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was undertaken with a range of different respondents. This section first explores the

strengths and weaknesses of qualitative interviewing before detailing what was

actually done within this research project.

(i) Strengths and weaknesses of qualitative interviewing

Atkinson and Silverman (1997) suggest that qualitative interviewing has become the

method through which contemporary social science engages with the questions that

concern it. The use of qualitative interviewing in geography has increased in recent

years, although, as Cloke et al. (2004) illustrate, it has a longstanding pedigree

within the discipline. Valentine (2005) suggests that interviews are particularly

suited to multi-method research, whilst Johns (2004) suggests that qualitative

interviewing has a close affinity with ethnography. As will be discussed below,

interviewing-as-method can be designed and implemented in a number of ways, the

common denominator for all interviews – however structured – is that it is a method

that involves researchers asking basically open ended questions (O’Leary 2004). It is

the richness of the data that this method generates that can be considered one of its

great strengths. A further advantage is suggested by Cawthorne (2001), who argues

that qualitative interviewing allows the researcher to build up a more complete

picture of the phenomena they are studying and cross check information given by

other informants, otherwise known as ‘source’ triangulation.

However, the researcher must be careful how they treat the data that emerge from

interviews. Rapley (2001), following Seale (1998), makes the distinction between

two different ways in which interview data can be understood:

! Interview data as resource – the interview data collected are seen as (more or

less) reflecting the interviewees’ reality outside the interview ! Interview data as topic – the interview data collected are seen as reflecting a

reality jointly constructed by the interviewee and interview

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Rapley (2001) argues that it is ‘data as resource’ which has come under sustained

critique with the rise in the conception of interview as ‘artifact’, a consequence of

the wider ‘crisis of representation’ within social science. Her own particular

contribution to this debate is to encourage awareness and analysis of the

interviewer’s talk in producing both the form and content of the interview. In doing

so, we come to understand that

the ‘data’ gained in the specific interview begin to emerge as just one possible version, a version that is contingent on the specific local interactional context.

(Rapley 2001, 309 emphasis in original)

The recognition that interview data are ‘co-constructed’ (Cloke et al. 2004, 129)

points to the need for reflexivity throughout the practical research processes, from

planning, through implementation and into the analytical phase. There are a myriad

of factors that the reflexive researcher must be aware. These include: where the

interview is held (Elwood and Martin 2000); how you present yourself (Valentine

2005); how you conduct yourself in the interview (O’Leary 2004) and power

relations (Cloke et al. 2004, 130).

To some extent my research did involve using interviews as a ‘resource’ because

they were focused on developing narratives about the experiences of different

postcapitalist institutions and countercultural practices. I therefore attempted to be

reflexive about these different aspects of interviewing and the way in which they

might have shaped the ‘artefact’ that emerged. In particular my early interviews

highlighted my own eagerness to interject and shape the conversation, something I

learned to control. Furthermore, they led to two important methodological strategies:

a strong emphasis on data triangulation and sampling for ‘authority’. Both of these

were a response to the fact that interviews were a mixture of recollections,

perceptions and opinions. It was therefore necessary to ensure the validity of these

through both seeking out the most authoritative sources and through multiple

sources of data.

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(ii) Sampling and development of topic guides

Valentine (2005, 112) argues that qualitative sampling needs to be purposive, where

the aim ‘is not to choose a representative sample, rather to select an illustrative one.

Choosing who to interview is therefore a theoretically motivated decision.’ However,

research that utilises purposive, or non-random sampling needs to address both

unwitting bias and erroneous assumptions that could damage the credibility of the

findings (O’Leary 2004). The former problem relates to the way in which you may

act to confirm what you already suspect, whereas the latter is where you use

incorrect assumptions. O’Leary recommends that the researcher be open and

reflexive about their sampling strategy to reduce chance of these errors. The initial

sampling strategy was guided by the themes and categories that had emerged from

the Phase One research (Cope 2003). Thus a range of seemingly significant areas of

postcapitalism had been identified, along with some key strands of Countercultural

activity. To manage this mixture of different types of respondent I developed a

three-fold sampling strategy and three separate topic guides (see Figure 5.1 below).

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Sample 1: Postcapitalist businesses and social markets

Phase 1 identified a range of different postcapitalist markets and businesses within the area. Again, rather than focus on one particular type I aspired to try and take a slightly wider view. This sample sought to balance a degree of ‘sampling for difference’ with the ability to triangulate within and amongst each sub-category of respondent. Therefore the interview strategy focused on exploring three or four different areas of institutional postcapitalism that seemed particularly significant:

1. The ‘local’ organic food economy (retail & production) 2. ‘Green’ businesses 3. Non-food ‘ethical’ retailers4. Independent retail in Totnes

I focused on businesses that were either perceived as being significant in some way, had a high profile or apparent historic role in Totnes – collectively (loosely) labelled as ‘pioneering’. These interviews explored both the businesses and the markets in which they operated, following the theoretical distinction made in Chapter Four.

Sample 2: Community Economic projects and activities

These interviews covered the range of non-market economic activities e.g. social economy institutions, currencies and some of the Alternative Food Initiatives. Again this required handpicking to find the people who had the authority to discuss specific initiatives. Interviewees include both existing projects and those that had ceased. These interviews were intended to standalone but also could be triangulated with my own experience with the Totnes Pound. Again, it was not feasible to cover the whole range of institutions. Some degree of selectivity was therefore required. On the community projects side I chose to focus only on the economic projects rather than the wider social economy initiatives. This way, it was possible to interview all of the local institutions that had a strong ‘economic’ dimension.

Sample 3: Countercultural Place

The purpose of this sample was to explore the emergence of different aspects of Countercultural activity within the area. This also required a handpicked sample of known existing contacts and was reliant on specific targeted interviewees and recommendations. The sample was focused on exploring a wide range of issues relating to significant dimensions of Countercultural practice that had emerged during Phase One of the research. These interviews were often focused on one specific aspect of countercultural activity and thus were much less structured. They were intended to triangulate with other ethnographic notes and material obtained from archival and other secondary sources.

Figure 5.2: Three strands of sampling strategy

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In all three samples I sought to interview people who were closely involved with

institutions in which I was interested. The overall sampling strategy adopted within

this research project could best be described as ‘handpicked’ (O’Leary 2004).

However, it could also be described as an attempt to sample for authority in the

sense that I sought out those who had ‘lived it’, not simply that they were ‘experts’

on the subject (see McKay 1998, 32). In a sense, then the community activism was

also an attempt at ‘living it’ whilst gathering data in more conventional ways. Table

5.1 (overleaf) has a list of interviewees and their particular area of authority.

Whilst organising the sampling in this way made sense from a research strategy

point of view, it was also expected that that many respondents would potentially

provide useful data relating to other areas. For example, some of the businesses had

been involved in the community economic practices. Furthermore, many

respondents had some knowledge of the development of Countercultural aspects of

the locality. Therefore flexible topic guides were developed following Mason (1996)

and were intended to allow interviewees to engage with all three areas of research.

Indeed, as it emerged, many interviewees did have multiple areas of knowledge that

were significant to the research project as a whole. ‘Member checking’ was used

within the interview process to validate the overall sampling strategy and check

other respondents who would be good to speak to. This ‘snowballing’ approach was

particularly useful in the interviews about Totnes as a Countercultural place, where

it was not necessarily immediately obvious who was a good informant. Finally, the

business interview topic guide contained a wider range of discussion points around

issues of postcapitalism. This related to some of the early literature with which I

engaged and was also to some extent a ‘back up’ strategy in case I was unable to

complete the research into Totnes as a Countercultural place to a sufficient degree.

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Ref Name Significance / Authority

1 Robert Vint GM campaigner, community activist and local councillor.

2 Paul Hall Managing Director of Colour Works, a ʻgreenʼ printing company.

3 Tristram Madge Journalist who grew up in the area.

4 Derek Lapworth Ran Velwell Orchard, a biodynamic small-holding.

5 Rob Hopkins Co-founder of Transition Town Totnes and the wider Transition Movement.

6 Paul Wesley Chair of Chamber of Commerce, business owner, peace campaigner.

7 Tom Welch Established Yarner Trust at Dartington and supported permaculture development in area.

8 Alison Hastie Founder of Green Shoes, a former co-operative artisan shoemaking.

9 John Watson Founder of Riverford Farm.

10 Alan Langmaid Manager of local museum and longstanding local resident.

11 William Lana Co-founder of Green Fibres.

12a, b,c Andy Langford Businessman and social entrepreneur. Involved in several local projects.

13 Toby and Ruth Chadwick Run the Natures Round organic vegetable box scheme.

14a, b Jim Pilkington Manages the anthroposophicically influenced Salago shop. Also involved in the establishment of the South Devon Steiner School.

15 Christopher Titmuss Involved in establishment of Buddhism in the Totnes area.

16a,b Rosemary Burns Former librarian at the Dartington College of Arts.

17 Sarah Strong Involved in the second LETS scheme (1990s).

18 John Elford Managing Director of Green Books, a publisher of ecologically focused books.

19 Mark Burton Former Schumacher College student trying to set up a version of the interest free JAK bank in the UK.

20 Noni McKensie Local food activist.

21 Hazel Selene Set up the Totnes Womenʼs Group and the Natural Birth Centre.

22 Guy Watson Established Riverford Organics one of the largest organic box schemes in the UK.

23 Marcea Colley Former LETS co-ordinator and involved in other forms of community activism.

24 Mike Freeman Involved in Hood Faire festival and Riverside self-build housing project.

25 Charles Staniland Former organic grower and co-founder of Devon Organic Growers co-operative.

26 Bob Mann Local writer and historian.

27 Michael Hughes TTT activist and ʻgreenʼ architectural consultant.

28 Judy Smith Biodynamic farmer.

29 Belle Collard Founded first health food cafe in Totnes.

30 Carolyn Whitwell Founder of Bishopston Trading Company, ethical retailer who have an outlet in Totnes.

31 Norman Duncan Significant community activist in the 1980s and early 1990s

32 Jonathan Parker Involved in the Totnes Natural Health Centre.

33 Bone Wilson Chair of the Devonlane Credit Union.

34 Helen and Barry Pope Former owners of Seeds Healthfood Shop (formerly Cranks).

35 Saskia Thomas Founder of Hood Faire festival.

36 Jeanne Day Founder of the Alexander Technique Training School.

Table 5.1 Interviewees and key informants

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Ref Name Significance / Authority

37 Prem Ash and Mark Beeson

Two of the organisers of TILT loan fund. Mark Beeson also ran the Dart community magazine. Prem worked for Conker Shoe, one of the towns first ʻcounterculturalʼ businesses.

38 Tissi Pilkington Founder of Salago one of the first ʻcounterculturalʼ businesses.

39 Vicky Evans Daughter of the Canters - founders of Cranks restaurants.

40 Carol Briscoe Owner of the building used by the Totnes Womenʼs Centre.

41 Jamie Sermon Co-owner and founder of Greenlife healthfood shop.

42 Ben Watson Founder of Riverford farmshops.

43 Heather Williams Bill Elmhirstʼs first wife.

44 Martin Stott Wrote Spilling the Beans (1986) book which identified Totnes as a centre of New Age culture.

45 Matthew Criddle Managing Director of Nature Save, green insurance company based in Totnes.

46 Christian Taylor Founder of South Devon Community Supported Farming and organic smallholder at Beenleigh Meadow.

47 Peter Kiddle Former teacher at Dartington College of Arts.

48 Ollie Watson Founder of Riverford Dairy and manager of the Farm.

49 Douglas Cockbain Current owner of Arcturus Books, an ʻalternativeʼ book shop.

50 Caroline Hayman Local Quaker who has researched local Quaker history.

51 Tom Merrington Co-founder of Seeds wholefoods shop in the 1970s.

52 Ian Noble Manages the South Devon Organic Growers Co-operative which supplies Riverford Organics.

53 Jan Innes Was a member of the core group of the Totnes Natural Health Centre and also owned the ʻalternativeʼ clothes shop Revival.

54 ------ Former traveller who has settled in the area.

55 Bob Jelfs Established Arcturus bookshop in 1970s.

56 Michael Couzens Economic development officer for South Hams District Council.

57 Benji Piper Artist who went to Dartington School in the 1970s with connections to the new age traveller movement.

58 Sean Johnson Manager of Annies Organic shop.

59 Michael Kendell Involved in establishing Totnes Development Trust and other local projects.

60 Landmatters Low impact community based near Totnes.

61 Prem Ash and Verity Swann

Both worked for Conker Shoe, artisan shoe-making business.

62 Felix Lambe Started first biodynamic garden in the area.

63 Frankie Van Der Stok One of the group which established the Camphill community near Buckfastleigh.

64 ------ A follower of Andrew Cohen (spiritual guru).

65 Marguerite Osborne Early practitioner of Trancendental Meditation in the area.

66 Roger Jones The first organic farmer in South Devon.

67 Noel Bartdorff Involved in feminism in the area in the 1970s.

Table 5.1 Interviewees (continued)

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(iii) Interview access, practice and confidentiality

Gaining access to interviewees was done in a number of different ways. At various

times email, telephone and face-to-face contact was used to approach interviewees.

Whilst an initial roster of interviewees was developed during Phase One, a process

of ‘snowballing’ led to others informants being identified. The initial contact would

often involve a short description of the research and the interview process. When the

interview took place the interviewee was given a Research Information Sheet and

confidentiality agreement of which they were able to retain one copy.

Interviews were undertaken at a time and location convenient for the interviewee.

Most were undertaken in their offices or homes but a few were at my home in

Totnes. In addition some interviews were undertaken over the telephone or over the

Internet using the Internet telephony application Skype. This was because some of

the ‘pioneers’ who had established projects or businesses were no longer in the

Totnes area. In such cases the interview paperwork had been emailed to the

interviewees. All interviewees were asked if they were amenable to being taped

using a digital recorder. The interviews that were recorded were transcribed using

some standard conventions. In most cases they were but occasionally they weren’t

and instead handwritten notes were taken. This was also the case in those telephone

interviews that were not undertaken over Skype. Not every interview managed to

cover the totality of the topic guide. The interview style was generally informal,

particularly as I knew some of the interviewees. As such, whilst I tried to cover the

topic guide, the interests of the interviewees and the areas where they had more to

say to some extent, influenced the direction of the interviews. Therefore some

interviews followed the topic guide closely whereas others were more informal. On

some occasions, the interview was combined with other tasks and formed more of an

‘ethnographic’ conversation than a sit down interview. The length also varied, some

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interviews were extensive ranging across a variety of topics whilst some were short

and focused on a specific issue.

The fact that only one interviewee who was approached declined to be interviewed

is, I think, a testament to the overall methodological approach. Indeed, it would have

not been possible to find many of the key informants without the ethnographic

approach taken. Inevitably there were a few informants who could not be tracked

down or who had unfortunately passed away. However, on the whole the data

collection strategy was highly successful in identifying and finding the informants

who had been involved in key institutions and practices.

5.3.3 Research Diary and ethnographic notes

From April 2007 onwards I kept an electronic research diary. This is where I kept

notes of what I had been doing, observations, reflections and other conversations I

had. Time pressures have meant that this does not have the full richness of an

ethnographic account, and are instead akin to the ‘jottings’ made by conventional

ethnographers (Emerson et al. 1995). However, the research log has been a useful

way of recording relevant information as I encountered it, as well as ideas about

connections to theory as they emerged. For some visits, meetings and events I also

wrote up more detailed ethnographic notes of proceedings that would have normally

appeared in the research diary.

5.3.4 Archival Research

Archival research was undertaken at the Totnes Museum Study Centre, the

Westcountry Studies Library in Exeter, and the Dartington Hall Trust Archive. The

British Library also proved useful in obtaining some materials that could not be

sourced elsewhere. This work also proved invaluable in undertaking ‘source’

triangulation and verifying data that came from other sources such as interviews or

conversations. In particular, it corroborated people’s recollection of particular

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activities and also provided more specific times and dates for certain key events.

Once I discovered archived local publications such as the Dartington Hall News, the

Dart and Totnes Community Magazine they all provided particularly useful. For

example, I analysed every (weekly) edition of the Dartington Hall News from 1968

to 1981. Archive copies of the weekly local newspaper the Totnes Times also

proved valuable as a secondary source of data as did some other books and

magazines recommended by respondents and contacts. Some other specialist

publications were also checked for references to the Totnes area. For example, the

feminist publication Spare Rib was used to verify the date that the Totnes Women’s

Group was established.

5.3.5 Other secondary data

The lack of academic literature on Totnes’ development as a site of Countercultural

practice meant that there was a need to engage with non-academic literature to

explore the history and development of Totnes and the postcapitalist practices in the

locality. Furthermore, even non-academic histories make virtually no reference to

the ‘alternative’ side of Totnes. One strand of the research strategy was therefore to

find any relevant material relating to the research questions being explored. As Cope

(2003) has argued, such textual materials can play an important role in filling gaps in

information that could otherwise not be known.

A range of other secondary data sources including other newspapers, official reports,

books, magazines, leaflets and obituaries were gathered during the course of the

research. Again these provided valuable background information and were able to

triangulate data obtained from other sources. Indeed, the way in which I was able to

borrow a full set of Sherrack (a local alternative magazine, not available in any

archive) from one of the original team behind it was an example of the benefits of

the overall ‘ethnographic’ approach to the research. Also, throughout the data

collection phase various web searches were undertaken on different aspects of

Totnes’ Countercultural activity. Often this was to find out more information about a

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‘lead’ that had been obtained elsewhere, or to triangulate an assertion from a

respondent. It was sometimes necessary to email contacts for information because it

was the only way in which to get in touch with them. Their replies themselves

contained information that was useful and so the email was logged and regarded as

another form of data.

5.4 Data analysis and verification

This section of the chapter sets out how the data were analysed and verified. It is

argued that in qualitative research projects such as this one, the concept of rigour is

of vital importance. Therefore a discussion of rigour precedes an explanation of the

particular techniques used.

5.4.1 Establishing Rigour

Baxter and Eyles (1997, 506) suggest that rigour is commonly understood to mean

the ‘the satisfaction of the conventional criteria of validity, reliability and objectivity

within quantitative research.’ They identify the use of multi-methods as one of

eleven different strategies used by geographers to establish qualitative rigour within

their work. They argue that in order for qualitative research to stand up to evaluation

and be deemed rigorous there is a need for transparent criteria against which the

research can be measured, and suggest using Lincoln and Guba’s (1985) criteria,

reproduced in Table 5.2 below, the bold text in the ‘strategies’ column indicating

those strategies that have been adopted within this research for this thesis.

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Table 5.2: Criteria for evaluating qualitative research (based on Lincoln and Guba 1985)

Criteria Definition Assumptions Strategies / practices to satisfy

criteria. Credibility Authentic representation of

experience Multiple realities Causes not distinguishable from effect Empathetic researcher Researcher as instrument Emphasis of the research endeavour

Purposeful sampling Disciplined subjectivity / bracketing Prolonged engagement Persistent observation Triangulation Peer debriefing Negative case analysis Referential adequacy Member checking

Transferability Fit within contexts outside the study situation

Time and context bound experiences Not responsibility of ‘sending researcher’ Provision of information for ‘receiving researcher’

Purposeful sampling Thick description

Dependability Minimization of idiosyncrasies in interpretation Variability tracked to identifiable sources

Researcher as instrument Consistency in interpretation (same phenomena always matched with the same constructs) Multiple realities Idiosyncracy of behaviour and context

Low inference descriptors Mechanically recorded data Multiple researchers Participant researchers Peer examination Triangulation, inquiry audit

Confirmability Extent to which biases, motivations, interests or perspectives of the inquirer influence interpretations

Biases, motivations, interests or perspectives of the enquirer can influence interpretation Focus on investigator and interpretations

Audit trail products Thick description of audit trail Autobiography Journal / notebook

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Despite admonishing social geographers for over-focusing on validity / credibility

within the academic debates on rigour, Baxter and Eyles (1997) also dedicate more

time to discussing that particular criterion than the other three. They suggest that

triangulation is one of the ‘most powerful’ techniques for strengthening credibility.

They draw on Denzin (1978) to distinguish between four different types of

triangulation, including methodological triangulation, which involves corroboration

using different methods, and source triangulation, using different sources of data.

Both of these are key elements of my research design. O’Leary (2004, 115) also

argues that triangulation is a strategy to build credibility, whilst Lincoln and Guba

(1985) suggest that triangulation also is one of three preventative techniques which

can be used to mitigate the potential effects that social relations between researcher

and interviewee can have on the data. The other two, prolonged engagement and

persistent observation, are also features of my research approach. Ultimately, as

McKendrick (1999) has suggested, the use of multiple methods enables a researcher

to strengthen their research conclusions, by providing corroborating data from

independent sources and different approaches. As Cope (2003) has argued,

triangulation remains central to the process of research reliability and validity and

therefore was central to the data analysis process in the next section.

5.4.2 Data analysis and verification

Analysis of the interview data was undertaken using the matrix approach set out in

Miles and Huberman (1994). For each of the topic guides a matrix was developed

which was able to summarise the interview data in a form of in vivo coding (Cope

2003). For the interviews with the businesses and community enterprises this took

the form of a conceptually ordered matrix that cross-referred summaries of their

answers with the respondent. Once the matrix had been populated it was possible to

read ‘down’ to get a summary of the whole interview with a particular respondent or

‘across’ to explore the different ways in which respondents answered specific

questions or topic areas. This ‘tactic’ as Miles and Huberman (1994) call it, allows

for comparison and contrast to be made. This permitted a process of ‘source

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triangulation’ to be undertaken that drew out key themes, commonalities and

differences between respondents and allowed the data to ‘speak’. The interviews

based on topic guide three were also transcribed to a matrix but one that was

thematically ordered on themes that had emerged from the other data. These themes

emerged not only out of the analysis of the other two interview schedules but also

through my prolonged engagement with the field.

This approach was preferred because unlike much research this research project was

not a detailed study of a homogenous sample of subjects. Nor was it primarily

concerned with a ‘deep’ understanding of how such subjects construct their own

realities. Instead the primary purpose of the analysis was to construct co-created

narratives about both the development of Totnes itself and the experience of

postcapitalist institutions. The data analysis therefore involved a great deal of

reading ‘across’ the data rather than in depth, in order to develop new themes and

test those that had emerged during the earlier fieldwork. A second matrix was

therefore developed to capture all the various data sources that were gathered

relating to specific countercultural and postcapitalist institutions and practices. This

matrix was used as the basis of source triangulation about key events in the

evolution of countercultural and postcapitalist activity in the Totnes area. Mapping

out the data in this way enabled me to build up a chronology of key stages in the

development of Totnes as a countercultural place. Indeed the overall case study

could be understood as an aggregation of many much smaller ‘micro’ case studies.

The ethnographic data I collected on the Totnes Pound was used to construct a

narrative reflection on the development of the project that I then verified with other

participants on the core project team.

As well as a mechanism to triangulate data, the matrices were used then to construct

the meta-narratives about what had happened in the area. These narratives were

constructed into the first drafts of the data chapters that were rich, thick descriptive

accounts of both its development as a Countercultural place and its role as a site of

postcapitalism. These narratives were then subjected to various forms of ‘member

checking’ in order to verify my interpretations of the data. Firstly, I have regularly

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published extracts from my data chapters on a ‘blog’, Alternative Totnes

(http://alternativetotnes.wordpress.com see Figure 5.3 below).

Figure 5.3: Screenshot from Alternative Totnes blog.

The purpose of this has been twofold. Firstly, it has been another dimension of

‘giving back’ to those who participated in the research. Many respondents and

contacts were interested in the topic and wanted to be kept informed of

developments. The blog has allowed people to read about an important aspect of

Totnes’ development that until now had not been documented. Secondly, it has acted

as a mechanism of member checking, both in terms of my interpretation of events

and the theoretical arguments that have emerged. When I first started the blog I

contacted most of the interviewees and my other contacts in the Totnes area to notify

them of its existence whilst also generating some press coverage for the site. The

blog contains much of the detailed data that I gathered that did not previously exist

and therefore provides the first comprehensive rich description of many of the

aspects of Countercultural practice that emerged in the area.

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By September 2010 the site has received nearly two thousand views and I had not

received any comments or emails that disputed my interpretation of events or the

history of specific practices or institutions. Indeed, it has actually proved a useful

mechanism through which people have been able to confirm certain events and

interpretations, providing additional data. A second web-based tool has been the

development of a web-based mnemographic tool called TimeGlider that details the

key events the emerged from the research. Again this is publicly viewable (linked to

the blog) and is published as a ‘work in progress’ which is open to challenge or

critical comment. Again, this not only provides information on key events and

activities but also illustrates one of the central arguments of the thesis, that a critical

mass of Countercultural activity built up towards the end of the late 1970s which is

when it began to have a significant material impact on the town of Totnes. At the

same time as developing the narrative I was re-engaging with the literature to try and

understand what was happening. This involved both returning to the original

literature but also seeking out new conceptual language that helped to fill some of

the gaps that I had found. Once satisfied with the strength of the narrative that I had

co-constructed, I then ‘re-theorised’ the data chapters. This enabled me to address

the research questions more directly and also to bring the theory ‘back in’. This

inevitably involved losing much of the thick description from the final versions. In

addition, at this stage I also undertook a further round of ‘member checking’ with

key respondents, to verify my theoretical arguments or interpretations of events

(Cope 2003). Over the writing up period I also undertook some short telephone

follow-up interviews to fill key gaps in the literature and to verify the analyses that

emerged from the more in-depth interviews and other data.

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5.5 Concluding Reflections

Denzin and Lincoln (2005) describe the qualitative researcher as a Bricoleur who

prepares a representation from multiple fragments. Again, they emphasise the

importance of triangulation, suggesting that

The combination of multiple methodological practices, empirical materials, perspectives, and observers in a single study is best understood as a strategy that adds rigour, breadth, complexity, richness and depth to any enquiry.

(Denzin and Lincoln 2005, 5)

Such a depiction comes close to describing the data collection process that underpins

this thesis. Whilst I would argue that there is a complexity, richness and depth to this

particular enquiry, I am also conscious that it is still only one interpretation of events

and one that remains partial. In reflecting on my research methodology, it is clear

that my stubbornness not to close the research down to a more ‘micro’ scale made it

a more difficult and complex endeavour. However, it seemed an inadequate exercise

to study the postcapitalist institutions without a fuller understanding of the context in

which they operated and emerged. The complete absence of existing literature –

academic or grey – on how Totnes became ‘alternative’ and what that might mean,

left me with little choice but to include such questions within the scope of the

research. Had such material already existed then there is no doubt that the research

would have focused more entirely on the development of postcapitalism in the area.

Instead, I had to strike a balance between addressing the two ‘sides’ of the research

(countercultural place / postcapitalism), which inevitably involved some

compromises.

Thus, whilst I am extremely confident in the narratives and arguments that have

been developed there are still some gaps and other ‘stories’ to be told. Such gaps

exist because key informants could not be found or information just was not

available. In particular, certain materials within the Dartington Trust’s archive

remain embargoed. On the side of ‘postcapitalism’ there were more markets and

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businesses to explore, especially other areas of ‘green’ activity (e.g. green builders,

green funerals etc). On the side of ‘Countercultural place’, more interviews would

give richer accounts of some of the key areas of development. In many ways then,

this thesis reflects a starting point for understanding both particularities of the

empirical case in question, and some of the wider theoretical questions. That starting

point begins in the next chapter, which discusses the evolution of Totnes as a

Countercultural place.

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Chapter 6: The emergence of a Countercultural place

This chapter seeks directly to address the research question: What are the

processes that have led to the emergence of Totnes as a countercultural place?

What implications does this have for how such places are understood? Its

central argument is that the concept of a countercultural milieu is important for

understanding the processes that have shaped Totnes as a countercultural place.

The chapter illustrates how a utopian experiment based near Totnes – Dartington

Hall – was the primary cause underlying the emergence of the milieu, but that it

involved a range of overlapping and interconnecting processes. In theorising the

emergence of the milieu, the chapter draws the different propositions relating to

the formation of countercultural place outlined in Chapter Three and shows that

most of them have some analytical relevance in the case of Totnes. However, the

research makes an additional contribution to the understanding of the formation

of such places, firstly by showing how such processes overlap and interconnect

and secondly by emphasing the importance of a key concept that is mostly absent

from the existing literature – homophily – the tendency of individuals with

similar traits or characteristics to aggregate in social networks and sites.

This chapter first describes the key areas of Countercultural practice that have

emerged in the area since the 1970s. The majority of the chapter focuses on a

‘model’ that describes the processes that have led to the emergence of Totnes as

a countercultural place. It then goes on to explore the different elements of this

model, drawing on empirical examples from the fieldwork. Space precludes the

inclusion of much of the rich empirical detail that was gathered and which

enabled the overall narrative to be developed. More detailed accounts of the

different elements of the milieu can be found on the research blog.

! "#$!

6.1 The emergence of a Countercultural place

6.1.1 A countercultural milieu

The usage of countercultural milieu within this chapter differs from the way in

which the concept of an ‘alternative milieu’ has been occasionally used within

the literature. For example O’Doherty et al. (1999) describe an alternative milieu

that reaches across the whole of the South-west UK. However, they use it in a

way that primarily relates to (green) Alternative Culture (see Chapter 3) and to

refer to networks of individuals. It therefore has something in common with

concept of a milieu that has been developed in innovation studies and economic

geography to stress the institutional and cultural embeddedness of innovation

(Maillet 1995). In this context the concept of the innovative regional milieu

(Maillet 1995 et al.) has been used to describe the importance of geographic

propinquity. In this context a milieu can be used to refer to a range of actors and

institutions such as firms, educational establishments, NGOs, etc (Truffer and

Dürrenberger 1997). Therefore, in this context, the notion of a milieu is being

adopted to refer to the geographic density of countercultural networks,

institutions, groups, practices and individuals that co-exist within the Totnes

locality. Following the conceptual framework outlined in Chapter Three, a

countercultural milieu is therefore broader than the ‘alternative’ milieu described

above. It also stresses the importance of institutions and is used in a somewhat

more ‘localised’ sense.

This notion of a milieu has some resonance with the concept of an enclave,

which has been adopted in relation to some notions of countercultural places

(e.g. Lloyd 2002). However, the notion of an enclave tends on the whole to be an

urban concept, and I would argue, tends to have a more bounded sense both

ethnically and geographically. Milieu is therefore preferred both for the sense of

heterogeneity and fluidity that it conveys, particularly in the context of an

approach that is built on a wider conception of countercultural practice. It also

highlights the importance of institutions in Totnes becoming an alternative place.

Drawing on the meta-categories first outlined in Chapter Three, Table 6.1 below

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describes some of the main strands of the Countercultural milieu that has

developed around the Totnes area.

Table 6.1 illustrates that by taking a wider analytical lens a broad range of

Countercultural practices within the area become ‘visible’. The table reflects

those practices which have been most visible and, in most cases, which have had

some kind of enduring impact on the locality. However, even this depiction of

the milieu in Table 6.1 is by necessity simplified. There are some aspects of

Countercultural practice that are not fully described: The ‘human potential’ side

of the ‘New Age’ and the development of drug culture(s) within the area are two

obvious examples. Nor does the table fully reflect the local manifestations of

bohemian culture or paganism. However, even in its current form the table

supports the argument that these different practices can be linked as part of an

ongoing Countercultural tradition that shares a rejection of (aspects of) Western

modernity. Indeed, despite their many differences, the detailed fieldwork

highlights numerous connections and linkages between these different strands.

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Strand Details

Radical politics

There was little evidence of organised radical left / anarchist politics in the area. There has been a local green party presence which stood in the four general elections between 1983 and 1997 but did not exceed 2% of the vote. Unlike some other areas, a strong green presence has not been established, although there has been some recent progress. Radical politics have therefore been expressed through the local organisation of social movements and community activism, as detailed in other categories. There are therefore different manifestations of radical green politics locally. There are also local strands of conspiracy politics reflected for example in the existence of a Totnes branch of 911 Truth.

New social movements

Environmental activism There were Friends of the Earth groups active in the area in the 1970s. In the 1990s there was a ʻgreenʼ community office which was a site of some DIY Culture including as the office of South Devon Earth First. The Totnes area also became a site of Anti-GM community activism in 1998 when a test crop was planted adjacent to the organic Riverford Farm. This led to the establishment of the Totnes Genetix Group (TOGG) which played a role in the national GM campaign as did other local activists. Doherty et al (2007) describe Totnes as being amongst the 2nd tier of activist groups within the UK during the 1990s

Feminism Radical feminism was a strong influence around Totnes in the late 1970s and early 1980s. There was a strong feminist influence at the Dartington College of Arts during the 1970s. In 1979 a womenʼs group was started in Totnes. In May 1981 the group established a Womenʼs Centre in Totnes. This became a base for several women owned businesses and other activist groups.

Peace activism There were longstanding connections to the peace movement through Dartington. In the late 1970s there was a range of local groups opposing nuclear power and weapons. More recently, there has been mobilsation against the Iraq war and a Peace Group who hold a weekly silent vigil outside St Maryʼs church in Totnes.

Alternative pathways

Education The area has been an ongoing site of alternative education since the establishment of the Dartington Hall School in 1925. The establishment of the South Devon Steiner School in 1979 created a second ʻalternativeʼ school in the area. Park School (1986) and Sands school (1987) were both established following the closure of the Dartington School in 1987. Schumacher College opened in 1991 focusing on ecological and holistic science.

Countercuisine Businesses related to the countercuisine were established in Totnes from the late 1960s. In 1979 the Devon Organic Growers Co-operative was established inspired by Community Supported Agriculture schemes in Switzerland. In the mid 1980s Guy Watson began growing organic vegetables on Riverford Farm. In 1992 he began a vegetable box delivery scheme which has since become one of the largest in the country. His brothers also run organic milk and meat businesses. Following the emergence of anthroposophy (see below) in the area a small biodynamic sector has emerged, with 14 local sites in 1998. There are also local members of the Wholesome Food Association what might be considered a ʻpost-organicʼ scheme. There have been a number of different attempts at community supported agriculture, most recently the South Devon Community Supported Agriculture Scheme was established in 2003.

Alternative press The area has had a regular underground press since the mid 1970s. Sherrack was a community magazine that appeared for 21 issues between April 1975 and December 1978. It had articles on several countercultural themes and was connected to the Hood Faire and the Totnes Natural Heath Centre. The Dart was launched in April 1981 to cover the ʻbioregionʼ of the Dart river. It ran bi-monthly until 2001. Again it had connections to other countercultural institutions like the Totnes Womenʼs Centre. In the 1990s another Totnes focused magazine started (the Small Ads Magazine - later the Totnes Community Magazine which ran for several years and had links to the Green Community Office. There are other examples of both local and national underground press and alternative magazines including the ʻnew ageʼ publication Kindred Spirit which started in the area in 1987.

Complementary and Alternative Medicine CAM practitioners began to proliferate in the area during the 1970s. The Dartington Solar Quest centre opened in 1974 (see table 6.2) and the Totnes Natural Health Centre opened in 1978 providing self-help groups free access to therapies and a donation based system. This was one of the first centres of its kind in the UK. During the 1980s a number of other centres opened or relocated to the area including The Self Heal Association (1981), the Totnes Birth Centre (1982), the Devon School for Shiatsu (1985) Karuna Institute (1987) and the Arcturus Clinic (1995). Totnes has since become recognised as a site of CAM activity (Andrews 2003).

Permaculture Permaculture is a form of ecological design which has links to the sustainable development and global justice movements (Trapeze Collective 2007). Totnes became a significant site of permaculture practice in the mid 1980s after some local people travelled to the South of France for a training course. In 1986 the embryonic Permaculture Association of the UK was relocated to South Devon and regular courses were started on a piece of rented land which also functioned as a ʻlow impactʼ community. Several prominent members of the UK permaculture movement did their training there including Patrick Whitfield and Graham Bell. In 1992 the Agroforesty Research Trust was established on the Dartington estate to experiment with permaculture techniques. Most recently the permaculture inspired Transition Town movement started in Totnes in 2006.

Alternative spiritualities

Quakerism reemerged as a local spiritual practice in the 1960s with a Totnes meeting restarting in 1964 which remains active, with reputedly a larger attendance than the meeting in the nearby city of Plymouth.

Western Buddhism practice was supported through the establishment of the Sharpham North Buddhist community (c.1982) and Gaia House (1983). Some prominent Buddhist writers are based in the area and both Sharpham and Gaia House are part of the global retreat networks.

Anthroposophy - following the teachings of Rudolph Steiner - emerged as a form of spiritual practice in the late 1970s. A study group led to the establishment of the South Devon Steiner school, which was followed by other anthroposophical inspired institutions including the Hapstead Camphill Community, a Christian community and biodynamic farming and smallholding.

Other examples of organised alternative spiritualities include a group of Sanyassins lived in a commune at Gara Bridge in 1978 and then in a property in Totnes until 1981 when they were evicted. Other spiritual practices such as neo-paganism are also present in the area and it has also attracted other spiritual ʻgurusʼ. In the mid 1980s the spiritual leader Andrew Cohen was based in the Totnes area for a while, attracting a local following. John de Ruiter, a philosopher and teacher also speaks in Totnes as part of his global circuit.

Alternative lifestyles

Hood Faire Hood Faire was a medieval themed fair that first ran in 1979 over the midsummer weekend on a meadow not far from Totnes. The fairs attracted thousands of people and provided a platform for many of the other strands of countercultural practices. They also acted as a network which bought together a group of likeminded people. The festivals ran seven times between 1979 and 1985. In 1993 there was one attempt at running a contemporary verison of the Totnes Carnival that involved participants of the countercultural milieu but reverted to the traditional ʻ1950sʼ theme the following year.

New Age Travellers Some farms and pieces of land around Totnes have functioned as informal traveller sites since the late 1970s. The was a traveller connection to the Hood Faires and to the traveller movement through the Tibetan Ukranian Mountain Troupe. Following the dismantling of the Peace Convey in the mid 1980s some travellers settled in the Totnes area. In the early 1990s a group attempted to develop a permanent site at nearby Beacon Farm. Blocked by the local authority they occupied Steamer Quay in the town centre until they were evicted. There remains some ʻsettledʼ traveller sites around Totnes as well as ʻinformalʼ temporary sites

Alternative housing In 1981there was a high profile squat in Totnes in (Critchell Hostel) and a local protest movement about luxury housing being built in the area (The battle of Barrack Hill). Following this, two successful self-build projects developed in the town. Contemporary examples of communal living include Bowden House and the Landmatters low-impact community.

Table 6.1: Significant dimensions of Countercultural activity around Totnes 1970s onward

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It is important to recognise that the range of countercultural practices that developed

around Totnes were not in themselves unique. ‘Alternative’ businesses,

complementary medicine, spiritual centres, and women’s centres were proliferating

across the UK during the 1970s and early 1980s. However, what was unusual was the

fact that there was a range of these activities within and around a rural market town

with a population of only 5,529 in 1981. 15 For example, Bouchier (1983) suggests

that in the early 1980s it was not unusual for a provincial city to have a women’s

centre. Therefore, the fact that a town the size of Totnes could support a range of

activities described in Table 6.1 appears to be unusual, as was arguably the mixture of

‘rural’ and ‘urban’ countercultural activity. This majority of this chapter therefore

seeks to explain how such a density emerged and how this enables a more

sophisticated understanding of countercultural place to be developed.

6.1.2 The emergence of a countercultural milieu

Like some of the other Countercultural places detailed in Chapter 3, in-migration has

been a significant factor in the construction of the countercultural milieu around

Totnes. However, this study reveals new insights into the processes by which such

migration takes place, and by which the milieu becomes a self-sustaining entity.

Figure 6.1 below shows a schematic model that emerged from the detailed research. It

describes the emergence of the milieu and how some of the different causal drivers

link together. The model features most of the six theoretical countercultural ‘place

making’ strands outlined in Chapter Three. However, this research makes a

contribution to the formation of such places by identifying some additional factors,

whilst also providing some important insights into how they interact.

Firstly, as I show later in this chapter, migration to the Totnes area does not appear to

have been particularly driven by the search for economic margins, unlike some other

places (e.g. West Wales, West Ireland, North Devon). Whilst this may have been a

factor for some migrants, the general impression is that the presence of the millieu

had the opposite effect, contributing to the processes of rural gentrification identified

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by other research (Smith and Phillips 2001). Secondly, whilst reputation and

landscape are both factors they are not the core drivers of the milieu. Instead, the

emergence of the milieu can be traced back to the establishment of a single

‘institution’, the utopian ‘Dartington experiment’ which was established by Dorothy

and Leonard Elmhirst in 1925. Over the intervening years a milieu built up around

Dartington which, in the 1970s, energised by some of the ideas of the Counterculture,

‘spilled out’ into the surrounding locality. The research therefore has implications not

only for how countercultural places are understood but also how utopian communites

are conceived and researched, which, in the literature, is often as ‘bounded’ objects of

study. Thirdly, the research identifies a significant factor in the construction of a

countercultural milieu, best described as homophily. This sociological term describes

the the tendency of like-minded or similar people to gather in networks or groups

(McPherson et al. 2001). As discussed below, homophily emerged as a significant

factor in the construction of the milieu.

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The remainder of this chapter describes each of the elements of Figure 6.1 in more

detail, with the sections organised around the different key factors, illustrating their

particular sigificance. It is important to note that whilst the emergence of the milieu is

not a simple linear process there is a certain temporality to the overall process. The

Dartington millieu grew into a wider countercultural milieu in the 1970s with Totnes

emerging as its economic, cultural and symbolic centre in the late 1970s and early

1980s. Following this, it is argued, the wider milieu has, at the time of writing,

become a self-sustaining entity which has transcended and eclipsed the original

Dartington ‘experiment’.

(a) The ‘Dartington experiment’

The belief that Dartington was the primary cause of Totnes’ alternative cultures was a

recurrent theme of the research interviews. For example

It's Dartington - I mean I don't see it can be anything else. There's no root apart from Dartington - Dartington always attracted sort of innovative thinkers and artists and what have you, dancers and so on and somehow out of that grew I think this sense that Dartington, and presumably by extension Totnes, was actually a seedbed for interesting thinking !

John Elford [Interview 18]

One of the reasons it’s alternative down here was the Dartington folk…that must come up time and time again

Charles Staniland [25]

The Dartington effect is not just in the town its in a wider area all the neighbouring villages and so on…Go to Ashburton and Harbertonford and places like that… you’ll have a lot of people there who have come in for the same reasons

Robert Vint [1]

In this context Dartington refers to a longstanding utopian experiment that is located

adjacent to Totnes. This section highlights how Dartington played a key role in first

establishing and underpinning the countercultural milieu around Totnes. It argues that

it played two important roles. The first was as a driver of immigration through its

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various activities, a role that had an ongoing and cumulative impact. Second, the trust

played a role in bringing countercultural ideas to the area. This section briefly

introduces Dartington before highlighting both of these roles.

The pre-history of Dartington and the first several decades of its existence have been

well documented by Bonham-Carter (1958) and Young (1996) but both accounts only

cover the period in which the founders, the Elmhirsts, were alive and actively

involved in the experiment. Jeremiah (1998) suggests that there are three key periods

to Dartington’s history: the early years, post war reconstruction and the post-founder

years. The 1970s falls into the ‘post-founder years’. Dorothy Elmhirst died in

December 1968 whilst Leonard Elmhirst moved to Los Angeles early in 1973 with his

second wife and subsequently died in April 1974. There is no comprehensive post

1970s account of Dartington during this era nor, in particular, of how it engaged with

the ideas of the Counterculture. To fill this gap this section (and the wider chapter)

has therefore been constructed from interviews, archival data and secondary sources.

(i) Background to the Dartington experiment

Dorothy and Leonard Elmhirst purchased the Dartington estate in 1925.16 Dorothy

Elmhirst was a wealthy American heiress from the Whitney family who had a history

of supporting progressive causes.17 Leonard was the son of a parson from a Yorkshire

landowning family. He had become interested in ideas of rural reconstruction when

working with the Indian poet and philosopher Rabindranath Tagore on a rural

regeneration project in India. This work was funded by Dorothy and was one of the

inspirations for their Dartington experiment. After their marriage they developed the

idea of a rural regeneration project in England and purchased the decaying Dartington

estate. Both Tagore and wider Indian culture was a significant influence on Leonard

and thus the influences of both India and the United States have been thread

throughout the history of Dartington.

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Figure 6.2: Map of Dartington and Totnes

The original centrepiece of the Dartington experiment was a ‘progressive’ school,

Dartington Hall School, which at that time pioneered a radically different educational

philosophy to the conventional approach drawing inspiration from Dewey and

Rousseau.18 In addition to this, a range of ‘departments’ and businesses were built up

over the following decades across a number of fields, including forestry, agriculture,

poultry, building and housing, textiles, orchards, gardens and dance and drama. Some

of these activities evolved into commercial businesses that were owned by the Trust,

others remained dependent on cross-subsidy from the Trust. A central objective of

Dartington was to attempt to show how the decline of rural areas could be allayed,

and how their economies could be revitalised. Young (1996, 100) suggests that

Dartington was founded on five underpinning beliefs:

• Mankind (sic) can be liberated through education

• A new flowering of the arts can transform a society impoverished by

industrialism and secularisation.

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• A society which combines the best of town and country combines the best of

both worlds

• A pervasive concern for the individual human being and his (sic) right to self

determination can be combined with the efficient operation of agriculture and

industry

• The scientific spirit can be a continuous spur to progress

Over the years Dartington developed links with a huge range of wider networks and

places, including strong connections with the middle-class liberal left intelligentsia,

George Bernard Shaw describing it as a ‘Salon in the countryside’ (Stoliday 2004, 1).

Its commitment to Arts and Crafts and artisanal production also indicates a strong

affinity with the ideas of John Ruskin and William Morris but did not also prevent it

from engaging with modernism. It also developed a variety of reputations, not least

for the Dartington Hall School which was regarded as being somewhat scandalous for

its commitment to co-education (including living arrangements), rejection of corporal

punishment and the practice of allowing naked student bathing in the river Dart. The

range and depth of the experiment means that there is an extensive literature covering

a range of different aspects of the work it did. For example, Nicholas (2007)

highlights its importance in the world of dance; Jeremiah (1998) its connections with

modernism; and Cox (2005) its involvement in the wider Arts. Some of this literature

is scholarly, some written by those involved. These different activities acted as a

driver of immigration to the area, the key factors of which are discussed in the next

section.

(ii) Dartington as a driver of in-migration

The Elmhirsts themselves were incomers to the Totnes area having no previous

connection to the region. Ever since the establishment of the experiment it has

continued to attract people to the area. A former student of the Dartington Hall School

described this process as far back as the 1930s:

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In a way it was marvellous. Dartington was almost an absurd, grotesque Disneyland. It attracted a lot of hangers-on and you felt that anyone with a weird skill, say a Trotskyite weaver in corduroy breeches with a great shock of hair – would be made welcome.

Quoted in Punch (1977, 20)

Since its early days Dartington generated diasporas of people who supported its

activities and were occasional visitors, covering a range of different activities. As

Stoliday (2004, 1) puts it

some who came, who performed, lectured, wrote or showed their work, were only brief visitors, while others came frequently and yet more came and stayed for some time, or even for many years. The sheer variety of the talents and activities of those who came adds to the colour and density of the patchwork. There were musicians and economists, writers and potters, educationalists and architects, dancers and psychologists, artists and agriculturalists, poets and painters, sculptors and social theorists.

Some members of this Dartington milieu were temporary visitors to the area but

others settled. Indeed, Dartington itself became a developer of housing in the area

(and beyond) working with modernist architects such as Le Corbusier and Lescaze

(Jeremiah 1998). This area of work led not only to the establishment of their own

construction company Staverton Builders, but also the establishment of Dartington

Housing Association in 1958. Between 1921 and 1971 the population of Dartington

village grew from 492 to 1560 (King 2007, 50). Despite the house construction of

Dartington, there remained a chronic shortage of housing in the immediate area. A

report in the Dartington Hall News in early 1974 repeats a suggestion from a recent

Dartington Parish Council meeting that perhaps mobile homes could solve the

problem for young couples finding a house in the area. Migration driven by

Dartington therefore had a material impact on the locality and, in the 1970s, this

impact became increasingly significant and evident.

One important migratory driver was the Dartington Hall School. Punch’s (1977)

sociological study of the school defines it as a ‘radical’ progressive school of which

there were only a handful in England. In a chapter on the school’s parents he reports

that one of his respondents refers to the Dartington of the 1930s as the ‘village school

of the Bloomsbury intellectual set’ (Punch 1977, 29) referring to, amongst others,

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Bertrand and Dora Russell, Aldous Huxley, Victor Gollancz and Ernest Freud, son of

Sigmund. There was a similar roll call in the post-war era, and whilst it was a

boarding school some families did relocate to the area so that they could send their

children to the school as day pupils, such as the poet Sean O’Casey in the post-war

era. The fact that employees of Dartington received a discount on their fees was

another driver of in-migration of those who wished to send their pupils to the school. 19 Inevitably, the school also attracted teachers who were interested in progressive

approaches to education for example, David Gribble, who worked at the school for

many years, describes how he first arrived

I first encountered an alternative to conventional education when I was twenty-six, having already found much to object to in the school where I was teaching. One day when I was browsing in a bookshop I came across a description of Dartington Hall School, which seemed to answer all my objections within a year I was working there

Gribble (1998, 1)

The school therefore attracted families and teachers who were sympathetic to its

progressive ideals, some of whom became long term residents in the area, as did some

of its growing alumni. Perhaps not surprisingly, the students at the school were

themselves partly engaged in some of the Countercultural politics of the era. In 1973

staff and students who were concerned by the lack of serious environmental action by

the government formed an Environmental Action Group. They ran film and lecture

nights that were open to the public. 20 They also implemented paper recycling at the

school and attempted to extend it to Dartington village, as well as food and health

issues, including ‘compost grown vegetables’ 21 Later, a group of students from the

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Dartington School were part of the Totnes and Dartington contingent that participated

a 1981 Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) march in London.22

A second (and perhaps more) significant driver – in terms of the countercultural

milieu – was the Dartington College of Arts. Cox (2005) dates the formal start of the

College of Arts as September 1961 but it built on a much longer history of Arts

tuition and training. The College started by providing two courses focused on

teaching music education in primary and secondary schools. Through the decade and

into the 1970s the College continued to grow both in numbers and the scope of its

work. By 1972 there were more than 200 students studying at the College.23 The

College has its own rich history of innovation and breaking new ground. 24 For

example, it was the first institution in the UK to pioneer certain traditions of eastern

music, another way in which Dartington’s connections to India were manifested.

Along with the London School of Contemporary Dance it was also responsible for

pioneering ‘dance avante garde’ in the 1970s (Mackrell 1994). Crickmay (2003) also

details the work that the college did in terms of developing ‘Art in Social Context’,

arguing that this was pioneering institution that was rooted in the radical artistic

movements and cultural ferment of the 1960s and 1970s. In particular the Art in

Social Context course, which began in 1977, was a precursor to contemporary

community based art and also had a strong ecological ethos. Understandably, it also

attracted students to the area who were not interested in the world of commoditised

art and galleries but instead in community arts. Therefore, the College of Arts was

very much infused with the ethic of experimentation that ran through the wider

Dartington experiment and engaged directly with some ideas of the Counterculture.

Paul Oliver, who arrived at the college as the Director of Art and Design at the

College September 1973, gives an example of this engagement. 25 He brought with

him an interest in intermediate and Alternative Technology, inspired by the work of

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E.F. Schumacher (1973). In an article following his arrival at the College he sets out a

vision in which Dartington embraces alternative technology:

It is hard to envisage a centre with as great potential as Dartington to develop a self supporting, ecologically balanced, alternative-technology-based community. Studies in Intermediate and Alternative technology could be developed here at a level that is scarcely possible elsewhere. 26

Oliver goes on to outline how Dartington’s connections to the Asian Institute and the

African Trust would enable the technologies to be applied, whilst there was great

potential in collaboration with the farms, forestry, horticulture and craft activities

around the Estate. The immediate aim was to start studies in Design for Intermediate

and Alternative Technology in the Art and Design Department of the College, later in

1973. Art and Design students in the College therefore began to study solar energy,

wind energy, methane digestors, hydroponics and a range of building techniques

including geodesic structures, cob, compacted earth and the use of recycled materials. 27 The Dartington Trust offered the students a small orchard site and the Shippon (a

disused milking parlour) at Droridge Farm to use for their project, which became the

base for the Intermediate Technology Department. Over the next couple of years a

number of the ideas were implemented there including a compost toilet, solar energy

and a geodesic greenhouse. 28

An important impact of both the school and the college was that former students

settled in the area and in 1970s and 1980s became involved in Countercultural

practices. For example, one former student who later became involved in the LETS

community currency (see chapter 6) explained her reasons for coming back

I decided to come back here because I had friends here and this was the only area in which I felt comfortable…A certain percentage of students have always stayed around…if you ask around you’ll discover that a certain percentage of students have stayed

Sarah Strong [17]

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As will become clear through the data chapters, ex-students (of both kinds) played an

important role in developing the milieu. Furthermore, some of the individuals who

became involved in countercultural activities in the 1970s were the children of

previous in-migrants to the area with connections to Dartington. For example Ollie

Bosence, who had attended the School and whose mother had worked there was one

of the early organic agriculture pioneers in the area as was David Lance. Verity Swan,

one of the co-founders of Conker Shoe (a co-operative, ‘countercultural’ artisan

business), was also the daughter of a teacher at the school. Her then husband, Andy

Langford, was the son of a state school teacher who had migrated to the area because

of the establishment of the Totnes Comprehensive School but who was very much

interested in the work of Dartington. As well as founding Conker Shoe, Andy

Langford was a significant instigator of other countercultural activities in the 1970s

and 80s as will be discussed in chapter eight.

Whilst the wider elements of Dartington were important in attracting people to the

area it seems that both the School and the College of Arts were key drivers in the

initial development of the milieu. This has some parallels with Brooks’ (2000)

assertion that North American ‘Latte towns’ tend to be host to higher education

establishments. Certainly in the case of Totnes, both of these ‘progressive’

educational establishments were an important stimulus to the growth of the milieu in

the 1970s and its widening material impact.

(iii) Dartington as a countercultural node

Unlike many utopian communities, Dartington lacked a central spiritual or political

philosophy around which it was organised. Its broad progressive aspirations were not

hung on any particular religious or political doctrine. Young (1996) identifies this as

one of the weaknesses of the experiment, however it might also be regarded as a

strength in some regards, in that it underpinned the open-mindedness and tolerance

that was central to Dartington’s ethos and activities.29 Chapter Three noted that

‘freethinking’ is a key aspect of countercultures (Goffman and Joy 2005). Indeed as !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!%&!'()*!+,-./0).1-1!23*!).*4)454)+.36)*-1!).!4(-!75.138!9:-.).;!<--4).;!2()=(!,>+:)1-1!3!*,3=-!?+>! =+.=->4*@! 6-=45>-*@!1-A34-*!3.1!>-=)436*! ?+>!+:->!%$!8-3>*B! !C+.(30!D3>4->! E"&F&@!"%FG! 6)*4*!"#$!%$&'()!*+,-./)!%$,/'.!EC->4>3.1!H5**-66G@!%$(-+-'.!-.!)#$!0'1$2.!3'2(1!EI61+5*!J5K6-8G!3.1!456$2-7$.),(!*662',8#!)'!9'8-,(!:/;8#'('+;!EL*=3>!L-*->G!3*!6-=45>-*!?>+0!4(-!,->)+1!"&M$!N!FB!!!

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Young (1996, 199) notes, so called ‘free thinkers’ (in a religious sense) were roundly

abused both in Devon and beyond in the 1920s. Following this it could be argued that

even in its early years there were many aspects of Dartington which might be

considered countercultural which a small ‘c’, such as the progressive education, the

tolerance of spiritual diversity and a somewhat Bohemian strand to the experiment.

Dartington was described by one interview respondent as ‘Bloomsbury group by the

Sea’ [7]. The Bloomsbury group itself has been defined as a counterculture

(Musgrove 1974, 24). Dartington also had connections to thinkers such as Gerald

Heard and Aldous Huxley who became important intellectual figures in the US

Counterculture (see Falby 2003). In many ways therefore Dartington cut against the

grain of many contemporary ‘mainstream’ values and beliefs and was regarded with

suspicion by some locals for many years.

It is arguable that in the early 1970s the Dartington Trust faced two struggles that

provided an opportunity for some countercultural ideas to gain some purchase at the

Trust. The first was that it found itself struggling for a sense of purpose following the

deaths of its two founders. Hardy (2000) has argued that whilst the Elmhirsts were

involved directly in Dartington there was always an element of ‘squirarchy’ to the

Dartington community. Young (1996) also highlights many occasions where they

were required to referee or act as the arbitrator of last resort regarding internal

disputes. Their deaths left the Trustees in charge of an organisation that lacked a

central organising philosophy and a void in terms of its central purpose. There were,

however, still family connections on the Trust board, not least Maurice Ash, the Chair

during the 1970s who was married to Leonard’s and Dorothy’s daughter Ruth

Elmhirst.

The second challenge that the Trust faced was the wider economic turmoil of the

1970s, from which Dartington did not escape. This led to the revision of the

abandonment of the policy of ‘endowment’ at the end of the 1973-4 financial year.

Endowment had entailed the provision of sums of money for unspecified purposes to

the various departments of Dartington and was replaced instead with a system of

grants for specific purposes that were renewable over a specific term. This affected all

the ‘spending departments’ i.e. those that relied on the Trust for at least some of their

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income. 30 In 1974 Trust businesses were not only facing liquidity problems but also

the issues that had arisen through previously generous salary ‘threshold payments’ to

individuals.31 Economic difficulties continued throughout the 1970s, with jobs lost in

the estates and farms department in March 1977. There was, therefore, also a search

for a new economic model for the Trust itself. The combination of philosophical and

economic crises created an opportunity for certain Countercultural ideas to be

promoted within the Trust. Indeed Dartington did directly instigate some

Countercultural related activities as detailed in Table 6.2 below.

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Therefore Dartington itself did have some direct engagement with the wider

Countercultural movements of the 1970s. In particular it acted as an important node in

the Countercultural networks of the era, bringing ideas and actors to South Devon.

Some of these projects were influential such as the support that the Yarner Trust gave

to local organic growers and ‘back-to-the-landers’. The wealth of Dartington also

supported some of the other activities that were not directly instigated by the Trust

such as the Totnes Natural Health Centre and South Devon Organic Growers Co-

operative.

However, in general Countercultural ideas remained divisive within the Trust and

amongst the wider Dartington community. Embracing one aspect of countercultural

practice – such as working at the school – did not mean embracing others. Indeed, the

internal conflict over such ideas led Maurice Ash, the Chair of Trustees and son-in-

law of the Elmhirsts, to resign as chairman of the Dartington Hall Trust in 1983 and

instead focus on developing the Sharpham estate where he lived, like Dartington

itself, a few miles outside Totnes. Ash’s decision to resign was prompted by the

spiritual vacuum that he perceived to be at the heart of the Dartington initiative.

Instead, inspired by E.F. Schumacher’s ‘lifeboat theory’, he devoted his time to

developing Sharpham as ‘something of a model, if you like, for how life might be

reordered within a disintegrating society’ (Ash quoted in Titmuss 1991, 84). So, like

Dartington itself Sharpham became a second, smaller scale ‘utopian’ experiment

which was motivated by Ash’s concerns of ecological and economic collapse, allied

with Ash’s personal interest in demonstrating that there was a spiritual core to rural

life. Subsequently a number of initiatives evolved on the Sharpham estate including

five agricultural holdings and small-scale artisan food production. The holdings

included the first bio-dynamic farm in the area, run by Richard and Judy Smith. Ash

also gave the first floor of his house to the Sharpham North Buddhist community.

Like Dartington, a Trust was set up to manage and administer the estate and its

activities. Education in the form of workshops, conferences and talks became a

regular feature of Sharpham and a Buddhist college was later launched in 1996 whilst

a Buddhist retreat centre, the Barn, was also established. Sharpham therefore became

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a further site of Countercultural activity in particular focusing on Buddhism and food

production.

(iv) Summary of this section

This section has argued that the Dartington experiment was the key driver behind the

emergence of a Countercultural milieu in the Totnes area during the 1970s. It played

two important roles in this process: firstly as a driver of in-migration to the area, and

secondly by forming nodes in the some of the countercultural networks of the era. The

importance of Dartington suggests that utopian communities themselves can play a

role as institutions that not only create countercultural ‘network space’, but also can

have an impact on their locality, creating countercultural places that extend beyond

their boundaries. However, this chapter also argues that whilst significant, Dartington

is not the only factor that underpinned the development of the milieu as explained by

the next section.

(b) Landscape aesthetics and imaginaries

A strand of the literature on countercultural place points to the importance of the

affective ‘beauty’ of the rural landscape in driving countercultural migration (Lees,

1999; D’Andrea 2007b, 88). The data suggests that the landscape around the Totnes

area (see Figure 6.3 below) also played some role in constructing the milieu. Not

least, it played an important role in first attracting the Elmhirsts to Devon. After his

first visit to Dartington Hall, Leonard wrote to Dorothy:

In we went and up and down some wonderful hills till we pulled up in a veritable fairy land – in winter too – what it would be like in spring or summer or autumn I dare not imagine. I wanted to kneel and worship the beauty of it all and every fresh vista only seemed the more to recommend the handiwork of nature joined with the reverent hand of generations of men

Leonard Elmhirst quoted in Young (1996, 104)

Hardy (2000, 147) concurs that this was an important aspect of the Dartington

experiment:

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The deep countryside of South Devon provided a perfect backcloth for the experiment, and the estate itself, with its historic manor, picturesque river and gently rolling grounds, evokes thought of William Morris’s News from Nowhere.

In a similar vein, this thesis later argues that utopian readings of the landscape play a

role in constructing ‘Thirdspaces’ of radical experimentation. However, at a more

material level, the landscape did also play an important role in attracting people who

became involved in the milieu. In addition to the rural landscape of South Devon,

there were two other aspects of the landscape that appear to be significant factors in

driving in-migration, the proximity of Dartmoor and the townscape of Totnes itself.

Figure 6.3: View towards Totnes

(i) Dartmoor

Dartmoor’s significance as a spiritual site grew during the 1970s with the rise in

interest in earth mysteries and alternative spiritualities based on druidic or pagan

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traditions. The publication of The View over Atlantis in 1969 by John Mitchell

renewed interest in ‘ley lines’, purported ancient paths and tracks constructed by the

alignment of religious buildings, prehistoric sites and natural landmarks. These tracks

are believed to make use of ancient ‘telluric’ [earth] energies (Michell 1983, 7). The

View over Atlantis argued for the importance of Dartmoor as a prominent site for such

earth mysteries, not least through the existence of the St Michael line, a line of hilltop

shrines dedicated to St Michael or other dragon killing saints that crosses Dartmoor

(Michell 1983, 72). Michell (2003) later identifies a number of other ‘sacred sites’ on

Dartmoor. The presence of such sites has attracted visitors some who have relocated

to the area. For example, a well known ‘white witch’ Paddy Slade lived on Dartmoor

for many years.32 Interviewee Peter Kiddle worked as a guide for people who visited

Dartmoor to visit the spiritual sites in the 1970s and recalled that a number of visitors

were thinking of relocating to the area because of the ‘sense of spirituality’ [47].

Therefore (Secondspace) spatial imaginaries of the Dartmoor landscape as a sacred or

spiritual site are important for attracting temporary visitors and incomers. But, unlike

for example Glastonbury, where there is a much longer historical narrative relating to

a sacred landscape, Dartmoor’s reputation has emerged in fairly recent times.

(ii) The Totnes townscape

The aesthetics of the Totnes townscape and the sense of place that it could create also

proved to be a driver of migration to the area amongst some respondents. Tissi

Pilkington [38] founder of an early countercultural business (Salago) and co-founder

of the South Devon Steiner School was one person who was attracted by the sense of

place in Totnes:

I had spent 4 weeks along the South Coast looking for a suitable town to start my business and when I finally came to Totnes, this quiet, old fashioned little Market town, I had a strong inner feeling that this is where I wanted to be, where I was meant to be, and where my destiny had led me to, to be instrumental to some of the changes that came about.

Tissi Pilkington [38]

Similarly, Saskia Thomas, who instigated the Hood Faire festivals, was attracted by

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Just the feel of the place [Totnes]. I just liked it and felt at home and went straight into the post office and signed on [for family allowance] for my family – that was…the decision was that quick

Saskia Thomas [35]

The sense of place generated by the Totnes townscape therefore is also a factor in

attracting key members of the milieu. As Kockel (1991) has noted, countercultural

incomers often play a role in preserving or reinvigorating ‘traditional’ culture. In the

case of Totnes the local movement to preserve the heritage of the town does coincide

with the time that the milieu was expanding in size. 33 The townscape, along with the

surrounding rural landscape therefore played a role in the construction of the South

Devon milieu. Indeed, the aesthetic beauty of the area may be the reason (along with

Dartington) that there was a history of artists and writers settling in the area (Mann

1994a). Furthermore, the landscape itself may have influenced the development of

certain countercultural practices. Andrews (2003) suggests that there is a particular

sense of place that is an important aspect of its role as a site of complementary

healthcare. This correlates with other sites of natural beauty that have also developed

countercultural healthcare traditions (Guthman 2004; Kopp 2004).

(c) Other local influences

The nearby conurbations of Exeter, Plymouth and Torquay all played some role in the

development of countercultural practices in the area. Of the three, perhaps the most

significant was Torquay. It was Tagore who recommended that Leonard look for the

site for his experiment in rural regeneration in Devon following a previous visit to

Torquay. Later, in the 1970s it is arguable that there were initially more visible

manifestations of Countercultural activity in Torquay than in Totnes. For a start,

Torquay had a history of esoteric religious practices such as Theosophy stretching

back at least as far as the early 20th Century. Rudolph Steiner spoke in Torquay in

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1924 to warn against the dangers of spiritualism.34 In the 1970s it had manifestations

of Countercultural practice that predated their emergence in Totnes. For example,

there was also alternative bookshop, Cosmic Books that predated the opening of the

‘alternative’ bookshop Arcturus in Totnes and was one of its inspirations [55]. There

was also the Cornucopia restaurant where several talks on various countercultural

issues were held in early 1970s. Finally, Kevin and Venika Kingsland established the

Centre for Human Communications in Torquay in 1971. Whilst Kevin taught yoga in

Totnes in 1971, people from the Totnes area also visited the Torquay centre, which

advertised in the Dartington Hall News.35 To a lesser degree, the influences of Exeter

and Plymouth are also discernable.

(d) Homophily

Homophily is a sociological term that describes the observable tendency of the way in

which individuals with similar characteristics tend to aggregate together in social

networks and groups. The term was coined by Lazerfeld and Merton (1954, 23) to

reflect ‘a tendency for friendships to form between those who are alike in some

designated respect’. In a recent review article McPherson et al. (2001) identify a

number of different ‘types’ of homophily. Most relevant to this thesis are the concepts

of value homophily and familial homophily. Value homophily reflects the way in

which people tend to prefer to be amongst people who share their values. The way in

which Dartington and the area drew in ‘likeminded’ people can be interpreted as a

process of value homophily. Similarly, the in-migration of people because of either

familial or personal networks also appears to be a significant factor in the construction

of the milieu, as this section will explain.

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(i) Value homophily

The fact that Dartington provided a range of employment opportunities made it

possible for people who were sympathetic to its aim to relocate to the area. One such

employee, Pat Kitto, put it this way:

People don’t come to Dartington to join a community but to work on a farm, or in industry, or in school or on college. On the other hand, there is a strong feeling of community living here. One finds tolerance and acceptance here, warmth and generosity, concern for the ill, lonely and elderly. It is an aspect of the place that strikes visitors very strongly and is totally unlike any other similar conglomeration of living units. It is not easy to say what creates this feeling. Perhaps it is that, in fact, people come here not only for a job but because of Dartington itself, which means that like-minded people are working together. 36

Pat and her husband Dick are good examples of people attracted by the ‘value

homophily’ of the Dartington project, and who then became involved promoting

countercultural ideas outside their employment with the Trust. It is therefore worth

detailing their influence in a little more detail.

The Kittos arrived in Dartington in 1951, inspired by its progressive vision. Dick

became secretary to the then headteacher of the school W. B. Curry. They had

previously been living in a bohemian community of artists and writers in Heligan

Woods in Cornwall. 37 During the 1960s Dick set up an organic compost business in

the nearby village of Ipplepen called Powlings and also ran an organic orchard. He

was also a correspondent to the Dartington Hall News on organic farming and the

wider crises of the industrial age.38 In 1973 Stan Windass of the Foundation for

Alternatives visited Dick and asked him to set up and run Lower Shaw Farm near

Swindon. This community organised a range of conferences on issues such as organic

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farming, building, WWOOFing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms), rural

resettlement, education and new perspectives on health and healing. 39

It was here that Dick was also responsible for helping to establish Education

Otherwise, the charitable organisation that supports home education in the UK.40 The

courses that Dick put on at Lower Shaw Farm were advertised in the Dartington Hall

News and in May 1977 he visited Dartington with a group of Alternative Society

members to talk to the Trustees about their ideas for an Alternative Health Service.41

He also wrote a number of books on composting and the Rural Resettlement

Handbook that contained advice on going ‘back to the land’. It contained a wealth of

advice on the practicalities such as purchasing a property, organic growing, self-

sufficiency, and even including a specific map of the most affordable areas in

Southwest England.42

Arguably Pat Kitto had an even greater impact in terms of promoting ‘alternative’

ideas in Totnes and Dartington. One of Pat’s particular interests was in

complementary health. As early as 1969 she had written in the Dartington Hall News

about a visit she had made to Henderson Hospital in Sutton, Surrey, which was one of

only two hospitals in the UK at that time that used ‘community’ based approaches to

treat mental illness.43 Pat went on to establish the practice of re-evaluation counselling

in Totnes and Dartington. Re-evalution counselling, a form of peer counselling, was

started in the United States in the 1950s by Harvey Jackins and arrived in the UK in

the early 1970s (Clark 1977, 323). In September 1976 Pat instigated a Re-evaluation

Counselling group in Totnes, which was followed, in January 1978 with another

group being established as part of the Adult Education programme at Shinners Bridge,

Dartington. 44 Pat’s interest in health and alternative therapies led her to establish a

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‘Towards Total Health Group’ in September 1977. The purpose of this group was to

provide

…[e]ducation about alternative therapies, to use group work, and workshops to discuss and work towards setting up a Natural Health Centre in Totnes. There will be talks on healing, health centres, counselling, the Alexander Technique, and we hope to have more experience of Tai Chai [sic], yoga and other movement work.45

The group of people attending the Towards Total Health group provided the main

impetus and energy behind the establishment of the Natural Health Centre in Totnes

that opened in September 1978 and was one of the first of its type in the country. In

establishing the centre the group worked with the Healing Research Trust (HRT) an

organisation set up in 1974 and based in Plymouth, where they were also working to

establish a Natural Health Centre. The HRT was established to promote alternative

medicine and to bring practitioners into repute.46 The Chairman of the Trust was Dr

Alec Forbes, Senior Consultant Physician at Plymouth General Hospital.47 Forbes was

very influential on the Totnes group and he later went on to help establish the

pioneering Bristol Cancer Care Hospital where Pat Kitto also worked as a volunteer.48

A further example of value homophily can be given by the owners of Green Fibres, an

organic textiles company that moved to Totnes in 1998. Totnes was one of a number

of possible places that they were considering relocating to from London. Like other

respondents detailed above, William Lana was struck by the beauty of Totnes and the

area but also:

by walking up the high street and you know, everything from going into Green Shoes and getting a pair of shoes cut for me that day to walking into Sacks and seeing at that time Mike who was the owner…he had a stack of green Soya Milk and at the time living in London nobody knew what Soya milk was, especially nobody knew the Provamilk green one…anyway and there were

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these cases of it, you know! And I felt like, ‘This is my home!’ you know? Whereas we previously had to go through a five minute explanation of what we wanted in the health food shops in London or in Brussels.

William Lana [11]

Therefore, whilst the place image of Totnes as an ‘alternative’ place had been

important for the Lanas to consider relocating to Totnes (i.e. put it on their list) it was

the sense of likemindedness and shared values that were important in actually

persuading them to relocate as well as the physical nature of the place. Here we see an

interplay between homophily and the place image of Totnes / Dartington that has a

material impact on the construction and renewal of the milieu. It seems likely that in

other cases there are similar interactions between the different factors.

(ii) Familial homophily

Familial homophily has also been an important migratory driver in expanding the

millieu. Indeed, Ruth and Maurice Ash returned to the area because of Ruth’s desire

to come back ‘home’ to Dartington (Titmus 1991, 80). Familial homophily also had

an impact through the way in which it drew relatives of previous migrants into the

locality. The Canter family provides a relevant example. Vicky Canter came to the

College of Arts and settled in the area marrying a tutor. This bought her parents, Kay

and David Canter to the Totnes area. They were the founders of the Cranks vegetarian

restaurant in London which Twigg (1981) has argued was a significant factor within

the development of the UK wholefoods movement. Their ongoing connection to the

Totnes area led them to establish two Cranks shops in the locality (at Dartmouth and

Totnes) and a restaurant (at Dartington). These played a role in introducing

‘Countercuisine’ wholefoods and organic produce (often called ‘compost grown’ in

the 1970s) to the area. A local Soil Association group that formed in the mid 1970s

met at the Cranks restaurant and the Canters also got involved in supporting the South

Devon Steiner Waldorf School in the early 1980s. David Canter also took on other

work within the Dartington Trust.

The Canter family also illustrates the way in which friends and contacts could be

drawn to the area. Jeanne and Aksel Haahr were first invited to Dartington in 1969 by

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the Canters to explain the Alexander Technique (an ‘alternative’ form of physical

therapy) to the music department after treating Vicky Canter in Surrey. The Haahrs

continued to visit the Dartington area intermittently throughout the 1970s offering the

Alexander Technique until, early in the 1980s they relocated to Devon from Scotland

and, with the support of Dartington, set up an Alexander Technique training school in

Totnes, which had its own impact in attracting annual cohorts of students to the area.

Thus ‘familial’ homophily can be usefully broadened as a concept to encompass the

friends, associates and contacts of individuals. For example, Robert Vint a

community activist who relocated to the area in 1998 describes the process by which

he came to Totnes:

I can remember a particular moment being stuck on the underground and the train had stopped and it was the middle of summer and we were absolutely packed like sort of sardines in a tin we were only going to be there for a quarter of an hour or so I go my diary out and went through the address list and started putting little dots on the map of where all my friends and contacts were and suddenly realised there was an enormous cluster of them around Totnes within about 10 miles of there - a very significant proportion - and I just wondered why and when I spoke to them [slight laugh] they all say ‘well its an amazing place we’ve moved down because you know, there’s so much going on here’

Robert Vint [1]

The research revealed many examples of both ‘kinds’ of homophily including Guy

Dauncey who wrote the first public critique of Dartington in the community magazine

Sherrack. 49 He was also involved in other Countercultural initiatives and later

became a significant figure in the development of ‘New Economics’ publishing a

book which helped to popularise LETS currencies in the UK (see Dauncey 1988) as

well as more generally promoting the potential of the informal or community

economy (see Schwartz 1985). The same reason underpinned the arrival of Christian

Taylor in the area. Taylor had been part of the group that established the first Farmers

Market in the UK in Bath in September 1997 (Tutt and Morris 1998). He would

subsequently establish the South Devon Community Supported Farming (CSF)

scheme and play a key role in developing Landmatters, a low impact community a

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few miles outside Totnes that he instigated after publicising the possibility of buying

the land through his own personal network of permaculture and land-based activists.

(iii) Summary of this section

This section has highlighted the significance of homophily in the development of a

countercultural milieu around Totnes in the 1970s. The discovery of the importance of

these personal connections in the construction of a countercultural place is perhaps

one of the most significant theoretical contributions of this thesis. It suggests a

‘driver’ of countercultural migration that had not been explicitly articulated in the

literature before. Furthermore, it highlights a linkage between reputation (one of the

countercultural ‘drivers’ indentified in Chapter 3, e.g. Smith and Phillips 2001) and

the process of migration, illustrating that it is the sense of shared values and like-

mindedness that can be a key driver for countercultural in-migration.

(e) Proliferation of practices and institutions

Saunder’s (1975) guide to Alternative England and Wales did not perceive the Totnes

area as a hotbed of Countercultural activity, unlike some other areas of the country.

Concurring with this, Figure 6.4 below depicting the online mnemograph illustrates

that it was towards the late 1970s that a density of new countercultural institutions

and practices began to consolidate in the area. The consequence of this is that since

the 1970s the countercultural milieu within the Totnes area has become a self-

sustaining phenomenon and to some extent, the wider effects of the broader

countercultural milieu have superseded the initial effect of the Dartington milieu.

Indeed it is arguable that Dartington has become ‘absorbed’ within the wider milieu,

reflecting one particular ‘site’, a set of relational connections and set of reputations

within a wider set of actors, practitioners and institutions.

The emergence of these different institutions led to a proliferation of Countercultural

Firstspaces in the area. Several of these sites were/are in Totnes itself, such as the

Totnes Women’s Centre, The Natural Health Centre, the Alexander Technique

Training School, and several ‘alternative’ businesses contributing to the town’s

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emergence as a focal point for alternative practices, as well as the economic and

symbolic centre of the milieu. Many of these Countercultural sites also have a similar

impact to that of Dartington: they produced local countercultural space but also

functioned as ‘nodes’ that connected the area to wider relational networks. For

example, the spiritually focused retreat sites connected the locality to what locally

based Buddhist writer Christopher Titmuss calls ‘the spiritual trail’ [15]. This

describes a global network of sacred sites and spiritual retreats that are attractive to

‘seekers’, people who are interested in personal and spiritual development.

Increasingly then, Totnes became a significant site of not a singular global ‘New Age’

or Countercultural network, but as a locality in which there were multiple nodes in

multiple networks.

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Figure 6.4: Proliferation of practices and institutions in the late 1970s around Totnes (see http://alternativetotnes.wordpress.com)

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These additional nodes therefore have a similar (and complementary) effect to the

Dartington experiment itself in the way that they develop geographic diasporas;

attract in-migrants for their ‘services’ (such as the ‘alternative’ schools) as well as

employees and volunteers. One way to describe this would be – drawing on a term

from economic geography as an increasing of the Countercultural ‘institutional

thickness’ (Amin and Thrift 2004). Another important impact of many of these

institutions is that they played a role in drawing existing residents into

Countercultural practices. For example, interviewees spoke about the transformative

effect of being involved in Hood Faire [24], or the Women’s Centre [17]. Thus the

institutions also played a direct role in expanding the milieu from amongst some

sections of the local population. It is difficult to put a figure on the size of the milieu.

An unsubstantiated estimate from the Guardian in 1990 puts the figure of ‘Alternative

Types’ in the area at 1,800 (Pilkington 1990). However, this research suggests that the

actual figure is difficult to define for a number of reasons. Firstly, the boundaries of

the milieu are fluid and hard to define clearly. Indeed, this thesis challenges reductive

constructions of countercultural subjects. Whilst some people might be involved in

multiple practices, others might only be on the fringes. Secondly, there is clearly a

turnover of people within the millieu. Several interviewees from the ‘first wave’ of

Countercultural practices now live elsewhere. It seems plausible that further research

might identify more clearly distinct ‘waves’ as found by Kockel (1991) in Western

Ireland. Thirdly, a range of visitors to the area augments the locally based milieu:

tourists, students, people on ‘retreat’, travellers, friends and ‘drifters’.50 All these

categories of visitors augment the localised milieu at any given time.

(f) Discursive impact

This section highlights the discursive impact of the milieu. In particular it highlights

the way in which different kinds of reputations emerge from the milieu and then play

a role in sustaining it. It highlights the importance of three different kinds of

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reputation: institutional reputations, place images, and mystical reputations.

Collectively these illustrate a more sophisticated understanding of the role that

‘reputation’ plays in the construction of countercultural places. It then describes the

way in which the milieu also facilitated the local circulation of countercultural

discourses.

(i) Institutional reputations

Whilst this research has identified homophily as an important and hitherto overlooked

factor in the construction of a countercultural place, the data suggest that reputation

does also play a part. Prince and Riches (2001) have suggested a way in which

reputation drives migration with reference to the development of both Glastonbury

and Totnes as centres of Complementary and Alternative Medicine (CAM) practice:

By the end of the 1980s, then, Glastonbury had become a centre for alternative healing, along with Totnes, another small town in the southwest of England. There is a spiralling situation here. The more that healers are attracted to the area and its reputation grows, so the more people visit and / or move to the area to take advantage of the services - so even more healers arrive. In addition people who have undergone healing sometimes train to become healers themselves. It is, after all, a way of earning a living in a 'spiritually attuned' manner.

Prince and Riches (2001, 93)

Using the wider countercultural lens adopted by this thesis, the data suggest that many

of the different countercultural practices and institutions each have their own

reputational effects within their own cultural fields and networks that attract people

both as short-term visitors and as in-migrants. For example, short course participants

at Schumacher College or families who relocate because of the South Devon Steiner

School. However, the institutional nodes also play a role in diffusing place images

and wider reputations about the Totnes area itself.

For example, drawing on my participative research with the Totnes Pound currency,

Table 6.3 illustrates some of the national and international media coverage of the

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Totnes Pound that directly involved the project team between March and September

of 2008.

Whilst this coverage was specifically about the Totnes Pound and Transition Town

Totnes it invariably carried representations of Totnes itself. For example, the piece in

BBC Countryfile magazine began

Totnes is a pretty Elizabethan town near Dartmoor. It’s a surprise at first to find that it was voted one of the 10 funkiest places on the planet to live, until you see the fluttering flyers in the market square advertising a wealth of performances, classes and other happening and realize how easy it is to buy organic, fair-trade and local produce with the local currency – the Totnes Pound

Stiles (2008, 61)

Enquiries to the Tourist Information Centre in Totnes about Transition Town Totnes

and the Totnes Pound indicate that such representations have a material impact in

attracting people to the town. Indeed there was evidence of visitors motivated by the

town’s ‘green’ reputation that were disappointed that their expectations were not met. 51

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(ii) Place images

In addition to the cumulative reputational effect of the different institutional nodes, a

more general place image of Totnes as an ‘alternative’ or New Age centre emerged in

the 1980s. This can be traced back to the publication of Spilling the Beans (1986), a

satirical guide to the Alternative Movement written by Martin Stott. The data suggest

that it first put Totnes ‘on the map’ as far as being a ‘New Age centre’ was concerned.

In a section on ‘Where to live’ Stott suggests:

The area of Britain to live in is Devon. There are more natural healers, holistic health practitioners, alternative therapists and other inner-directed souls to the square mile in Devon than in any other part of the country. South Devon is better than North Devon. The Totnes-Ashburton area is the veritable Marin County of Britain. Living there is what all ATs [Alternative Types] ultimately aspire to.

Stott (1986, 10 emphasis in original)

In the local vernacular ‘TQ9ers’ (the first part of the Totnes postcode district) has

since become a local term for Stott’s (1986) ‘Alternative Types’ [13]. Stott was

familiar with the area having visited Dartmoor to attend men’s therapies workshops

and through visiting friends who were going ‘self-sufficient’. He also developed

friendships with Maurice Ash and Satish Kumar that increased his knowledge of the

area [44]. Kemp (2004) notes the tendency of the media to name places as ‘New Age’

centres and it was in the early 1990s that this place myth began to circulate in the

mass media with reference to Totnes. This therefore reflects the point when Totnes

began to develop its own reputation as a site of Countercultural practice, and where

representations of the place began to symbolize the activities of the milieu. 52 Other

complementary ‘place images’ have also emerged. In April 2005 Totnes was

designated as one of the top 10 ‘Funky’ places to live in the world by the British

Airways in-house magazine High Life. 53 This was not only mentioned by several

interviewees [10, 36, 56] but also now features within the Tourist literature for the

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town. 54 Indeed, the ‘alternative’ side of Totnes is now a regular feature of touristic

representations of Totnes. For example, the most recent Lonely Planet guide to

Devon, Cornwall and South West (Berry et al. 2008) has a section within it on

Transition Town Totnes and mentions the Totnes Pound currency. Whilst these

images are simplifications they have an impact on the imaginaries of both visitors and

local residents.

It should also be noted that place images also emerge from the academic literature,

highlighting Totnes as a site of Complementary and Alternative Medicine (Andrews

2003); New Age Travellers (Hetherington 2000); ecological direct action (Doherty et

al. 2007); alternative spiritualities (Heelas 1996; 2005); and green culture (Williams

1995). Academic literature can therefore play a role in reproducing place images,

although, as this chapter argues, each of these examples only reflect one aspect of the

wider countercultural milieu.

(iii) Mystical reputations

As Lowerson (1992) notes Totnes does not have a longstanding reputation for its

mystical geography, unlike, for example, Glastonbury (Holloway 2003). However, as

a consequence of the milieu a range of reputations have emerged since the 1970s. As

already discussed in the case of Dartmoor, these lay narratives construct the idea of a

mystical landscape which is significant in attracting people to the area but also in

constructing the idea that the area is ‘special’.

For example, the Dartington Solar Quest healing centre was founded on the belief that

Dartington is ‘a beautiful rural setting on the bank of the river Dart where a strong,

positive geo-magnetic force field exists’ (A Solar Questor, p. 50). This idea that the

Dart Valley is a special area has become a local discourse and the existence of ley

lines and earth energies within the locality came up in several interviews [4, 6, 26, 34,

55]. Alan Neal, a writer on ley lines in the South West (Neal 2004) who has taught in

Totnes confirmed his belief that there is

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a ley following the course of the main street up from what must have originally been an important fording point over the river Dart. This street is also believed to follow the course of a Neolithic trackway. There are also leys crossing close to the mound of the Norman castle, and at a famous healing, or holy well, the Leechwell…I too have heard many speak of the "special energy" pervading Totnes and the surrounding area. Many of us are quite unconsciously able to feel such things as underground water, and Leys, when we are near or on them, and equally unconsciously to feel their special significance.

Neal, personal communication, 04/06/2008

The Leechwell that Neal mentions is a specific example of the growth of specific

mystical reputations during the 1980s. The Leechwell is an example of a Devonian

‘Holy’ well (Brown 1957; Faull 2004) that has longstanding local reputed healing

properties. Mann (2009) recalls a spiritual group called Fountain International using

the well as the focus of meditative practice in the 1980s and suggests that the practice

of offering flowers and other adornments only started in the mid 1990s. The

significance of the site and the circulation of the reputation of its healing properties

have therefore been generated by the milieu.

Figure 6.5: The Leechwell in Totnes

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(iv) Circulation of discourses

A key impact of the milieu has been the proliferation of countercultural discourses

within the locality. The place images discussed in the previous section reflect one

type of such discourse that is particularly connected to the place itself. However, a

much wider range of discourses also circulated within (and beyond) the milieu. Some,

such as many of the new religious movements, articulated more comprehensive

‘discursive fields’, understood here as competing ways of giving meaning to the

world and organising social institutions and processes (Weedon 1997, 34), in other

words a worldview, or specific subjectivity. In addition to this a broader plethora of

countercultural discourses and memes also circulate within and beyond the

countercultural group and networks. 55 For example, of relevance to this thesis,

discourses of economic localisation have circulated in the locality since the mid-

1970s. Such discourses and memes circulated in a number of different ways.

Firstly, there was the underground local press, which first emerged in the mid 1970s

and has been an ongoing feature of the locality for most of the era since then (see

Table 6.1 above). In addition, the local publications of Dartington also regularly

mentioned countercultural activities in the area, both in the articles and in the small

ads. Countercultural discourses were also circulated via public meetings. A range of

different groups became active in Totnes during the 1970s associated with the

different strands of Countercultural practice detailed in Table 6.1 this led to an

increasing numbers of public meetings being held in Totnes. At first such meetings

produced only transient social spaces, but over time, as indicated in section (e) above,

a range of fixed sites emerged. This suggests that there was a reflexive relationship

between the practice / institutions and the discursive impact. Institutions led to the

circulation of countercultural discourses and a visual materialised impact (see section

(g) below). However, the circulation of countercultural discourses also led to the

emergence of new institutional forms, often of countercultural ideas that had been

‘carried’ to Totnes across the wider networks of the milieu. Totnes, then became a site

where there was often ‘early adoption’ of new Countercultural ideas.

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(v) Summary of this section

The literature on countercultural places often suggests that reputation plays a role in

their ongoing construction (e.g. Castells 1983). This thesis offers a more specific

contextual account of the role that reputation plays, both in relation to other

influences but also in the case of the Totnes area, delineating three important kinds of

reputation. The first is the myriad individual reputations of various institutions and

organisations that are located within the locality. These circulate beyond the place in

various ways, through various networks. The second is the emergence of place images

of Totnes as a countercultural place within ‘mass’ forms of media such as television,

newspapers and travel guides. Nowadays, of course, the Internet also plays a role.

The third are ‘mystical’ reputations that emerge from, and are reinforced by, the

milieu. Whether or not one believes in the existence of ley lines or earth energies is

irrelevant to the argument being made here. What is relevant to this thesis is that these

discourses have a material impact on the area. Firstly, the circulating ‘place myths’

increase the countercultural reputation of the Totnes area as a sacred site, encouraging

new visitors and migration. Secondly, these discourses of place have an impact on the

members of the milieu themselves. In Soja’s trialectics of space, outlined in Chapter

Four, they reflect subaltern forms of Secondspace, ‘imagined or conceived

geographies’ (Soja 1996, 79). However place myths and earth mysteries reflect forms

of Secondspace that are not (re)produced by urban planners or architects but by the

localised milieu, the media, and other forms of literature. These Secondspace

representations also play an important role in producing meaning for some types of

countercultural Thirdspace practice within the area, including its role as a site of

economic experimentation. This theme is further explored in Chapter Eight.

(g) Material impact

One impact of the growing milieu was that throughout the 1970s there was an

increase in the material ‘visibility’ of countercultural activity around Totnes. In

addition to the underground press discussed above, this visibility was materialised in a

number of other ways. The proliferation of institutions such as shops and centres was

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one obvious way in which the visibility of the milieu was manifested. As noted above,

many countercultural practices developed fixed sites of activity that gave then a

tangible and visible presence, several of them in Totnes itself. Transient events such

as the Hood Faire festivals also played a role in making different ‘alternative’ cultural

practices both visible and accessible. Such events also encompassed elements of

countercultural performance. However, in addition to buildings, sites and events,

there were other key ways in which the countercultural practices were made visible.

The first was through noticeboards in shops and other buildings. These were both a

channel of communication and a visible manifestation of the Countercultural milieu.

The Buddhist teacher Christopher Titmuss describes how, having chanced upon

Totnes he became aware of the countercultural activities in this way:

We were just kind of driving around and we were just in the town here and I just noticed in the in a bookshop we went into, lots of cards, lots of alternative things were going on

Christopher Titmuss [15]

As suggested by Lang (1999) such shops and noticeboards created a way ‘into’ the

countercultural scenes of the area. The importance of posters as a form of local

communication is also illustrated by the example of the Totnes Birth Centre. This was

first advertised using posters around the town advertising for women who were

interested in ‘alternative’ birth. Four came forward and that was the start of the centre

(Wyndham 1983). This form of communication is still prevalent today with many

shops in Totnes still having noticeboards with business cards, flyers and posters on

display.

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Figure 6.6: Posters in a Totnes cornershop window.

The countercultural milieu was also made visible through clothing. At times there has

been the presence of certain countercultural ‘groups’ that wore notably different

clothes (e.g. the Sanyassins, New Age Travellers). Local shops also produced clothing

that was appealing to certain ‘alternative’ cultures. Salago and Revival also provided

‘hippy’ and student fashion styles. Conker and Green Shoes also made distinctive

handmade footwear, often in bright colours, which became strongly associated with

Totnes. One of the shoemakers described the reputational impact of these shoes:

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Between us and Conkers it was like a national [corrects herself] a local dress, I’ve stood on Paddington Station and people have said ‘You must be from Totnes’

Alison Hastie [8]

References to the visual impact of the milieu therefore not only make the milieu and

scenes ‘visible’ but they also play a role in the representations of Totnes as an

‘alternative’ place, often reflected in the national media coverage (e.g. Edwards

2008).

Part 2: Summary of Chapter

This chapter has sought to understand the construction of Totnes as a countercultural

place. Adopting a broad framing of the countercultural has revealed how many of

these practices – often dealt with separately within academic work – have co-evolved

in a specific locality. It has argued that the concept of a countercultural milieu is to

understand how Totnes became recognised as an ‘alternative’ place, and which also

captures the range of institutions and practices that are involved.

The empirical exploration of the milieu has suggested that most of the propositions

have some purchase in explaining the emergence of the area as a countercultural

place, as indicated in Table 6.4 below.

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Using the countercultural milieu as a central organizing concept this chapter has

elaborated how, in the case of Totnes, these different influences have overlapped and

interrelated. Extending these theories, it has suggested that homophily is a hitherto

unrecognized factor in the formation of countercultural milieus. This is reflected in

familial and personal networks as well as a desire to be amongst likeminded people.

Of the other various theories outlined in Chapter Three that have been related to the

formation of countercultural places, only theories of economic marginality appear to

have had little relevance to the Totnes area. Indeed, the back-to the-land focused

Rural Resettlement Handbook, written by Dartington connected Dick Kitto, (1984)

did not recommend the South Devon area as a particularly cheap area to move to. In

fact, the data suggest that the milieu was having an impact on the availability and

affordability of housing as early as the early 1970s, at least in the immediate area of

Totnes and Dartington. This research does therefore support the consumption based

theories of gentrification (e.g. Ley 1996; Smith and Phillips 2001). However it sheds

more light on how such processes take place in this context. Indeed value homophily

might be a missing link between countercultural migration and the desire to live

amongst ‘people like us’ that drive certain forms of gentrification (Butler 1997).

Indeed the significance of the art college and the School point not only to a different

countercultural strain of ‘studentification’ (Smith 2005) but also overlapping

processes of gentrification.

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This chapter also attempts to develop a more sophisticated way of thinking about

countercultural places. The existence of a countercultural milieu reflects a diversity of

institutions and practices each of which reach out beyond the immediate locality in

which they are based. As argued by Nichols (2009) in relation to social movement,

both proximate and relational space is important in the construction of Totnes as a

countercultural place. The Totnes area perhaps does resembles a physical node in the

SPIN (a network of networks) model that is sometimes used to characterise the New

Age (Kemp 2004). However, as has been argued, these are not just New Age

networks, but a range of countercultural webs. Furthermore, the geographic

propinquity of these institutions also has its own tangible effects that are potentially

overlooked by a ‘pure’ network analysis. Not least it contributes to the emergence of

overarching countercultural place images which although simplifications, reflect

different aspects of the wider milieu. These places images not only play a role in

material processes of migration and visitation, but they are also a key component of

the spatial imaginaries of members of the milieu. It has been argued that they can be

therefore considered as forms of ‘subaltern’ Secondspace: Imagined representations

of space that circulate both locally and beyond, and which in many cases are based on

their own non-positivistic epistemologies. Such Secondspace imaginaries of Totnes

and the Dart valley are important, not only because they have a material impact on the

place shaping processes, but also because they play a role in constructing the ‘lived’

Thirdspaces of postcapitalist economic and countercultural practice. The next chapter

explores in more detail the different kinds of postcapitalist practices that have

emerged from the milieu.

201

Chapter 7: The Postcapitalist institutional landscape of

South Devon

This chapter addresses the second research question: What kinds of postcapitalist

institutions have emerged around Totnes? To what extent do these support

Gibson-Graham’s theory of proliferative postcapitalism? Chapter Two argued

that Gibson-Graham’s strategy of proliferative postcapitalism requires other

examples of placed based postcapitalism ‘in action’ in order to support their

‘weak’, poststructural economic ontology. It was argued that such examples need

to be not only economically significant, but also ideally they need to show how

‘capitalistic’ tendencies and structures are being resisted and are able to

transcend their institutional context. Finally, it was also argued that for

postcapitalism to emerge in a meaningful way then the different moments of

postcapitalist possibility need to ‘cohere’ into sustained economic spaces and

circuits. This chapter therefore explores the postcapitalist institutions from such a

critical perspective.

Overall this case study does support the overarching hypothesis that

Countercultural places are often productive sites of postcapitalist

experimentation. ‘Reading’ the economy for postcapitalist diversity with the

taxonomy developed in Chapter Four suggests a proliferation of postcapitalist

experiments and institutions and a history stretching back to the 1970s. However,

when the analysis is extended beyond this initial reading it reveals that the case

study does not support Gibson-Graham’s diverse economy ontology against the

structuralist critiques outlined in Chapter Two. The chapter makes three

arguments based on the empirical data that were gathered. Firstly it argues that

there is not much coherence between the different postcapitalist institutions, that

many of them do not join up in meaningful ways. Indeed the chapter highlights

how postcapitalist institutions can compete and undermine each other. Secondly

whilst the research does suggest that countercultural places can provide a fertile

site for the ‘situated practice’ of postcapitalist experimentation, this does not, in

the case of Totnes, make more radical practices any more economically viable or

significant. Therefore, the socio-cultural ‘embeddedness’ provided by the

202

localised countercultural milieu appears to be less significant than the wider

institutional embeddedness. This has implications for advocates of interstitial

approaches to postcapitalism. Thirdly, the data suggest that the postcapitalist

institutions that are the most economically significant are those which are most

entwined with ‘capitalist’ processes and structures.

This research does therefore not particularly support Gibson-Graham’s ‘weak’

theoretical approach to place-based postcapitalism. The analysis undertaken

through an ‘institutional’ postcapitalist lens adopted by this thesis suggests that

it is necessary to widen critical analysis in order to understand the way in which

‘systemic’ and regulatory factors are critical to the emergence of postcapitalist

possibilities. This suggests a need to extend both theoretical analysis and the

strategic interventions needed to nurture grassroots postcapitalism. The chapter

highlights two areas in particular where such extension could be significant: the

regulation of land and buildings, and financial system. In both cases, it appears to

be necessary to extend critical analyses to encompass the role of the state in

supporting grassroots economic activity.

The structure of the chapter is as follows. Part One provides an overview of the

different postcapitalist institutions that were found in the field, using the

typology developed in Chapter Two. It briefly highlights some overarching

patterns and trends before Part Two explores the organic ‘marketscape’ of the

area in more depth. This is arguably one of the most significant and visible areas

of postcapitalism in the area, and one that cuts across several categories of

postcapitalist institution. It therefore provides an excellent opportunity to explore

some of the arguments outlined above. Finally, Part Three offers some overall

conclusions on the possibilities of place-based postcapitalism.

7.1 An overview of postcapitalist institutions in the Totnes area

It should be first restated that this chapter offers a particular ‘reading’ of the

postcapitalist economy of the Totnes area that focuses specifically on forms of

collective institution. As previously discussed, an approach that focused on the

203

intersection between countercultural places and the ‘informal’ economy or a

livelihoods approach would have produced a different reading. The literature

does suggest a link between countercultural places and the informal economy

(Kockel 1991) and it’s worth noting that there was evidence of such economy

around Totnes. For example, as one interviewee put it:

you could say the only alternative economy is that some people don’t like working very much in Totnes

Paul Wesley [6]

This perceived rejection of wage labour, along with anecdotes about skip runs

(taking waste food from supermarket bins) and chickens being bartered for

haircuts point to the existence of hidden, informal economic activity. 56

However, the central concern of this thesis is the relationship between

Countercultural places and postcapitalist institutions as opposed to lifestyles. It is

therefore to this question that this chapter speaks, in particular the question of

what types of collective institutions have emerged in the area and the extent to

which they can be considered as ‘postcapitalist’. A summary of the institutions

can be found in Table 7.1 below.

This reading of the postcapitalist economy confirms the overall hypothesis of a

relationship between postcapitalist institutions and countercultural places.

Indeed, in some cases, such as TILT, Riverford Organic Vegetables or

Landmatters it could be argued that there have been some significant

‘pioneering’ postcapitalist experiments in the area, discussed in more depth in

the next chapter. A significant over-arching trend that emerges from the data is

that, in general, collective forms of organisation have not particularly prospered.

For example, whilst there has been some limited experimentation with co-

operatives, they have not become a prominent feature of the postcapitalist

landscape unlike for example, Maleney in Australia (Jordan 2005). Totnes does

not therefore represents a site where there has been great success in developing

community economies of the nature envisaged by Gibson-Graham.

56 Interview 23 and Research Diary 27/06/2007

Institution Presence in Totnes areaPresence in Totnes areaPresence in Totnes areaPresence in Totnes areaPresence in Totnes areaPresence in Totnes areaPresence in Totnes areaPresence in Totnes areaPresence in Totnes area

Businesses Ethicalʼ businesses There are businesses across a range of sectors which purport to have a specific ethical focus, for example, green printers, green funerals, green publishing, green builders. There is also a cluster of fair trade related businesses and food businesses which assert particular ethics, e.g. ʻlocal ̓ or ʻorganicʼ.

Independent businesses Totnes has retained a retail centre which has a strong independent sector (see section 2.1 below).

The area also has high levels of self-employment.

Both the Dartington and Sharpham Trusts have supported the development of independent businesses.










Workers Co-operatives Some experimentation with co-operatives but the area has not become a significant site of co-operative activity. In the late 1970s there were some co-operatives such as the Devon Organic Growers, Green Shoes, and Conker Shoes, the latter two both artisan shoemaking businesses. Neither Green Shoes or Conker are now structured as co-operatives. In the late 1970s there was also a plan to turn one of Dartingtonʼs businesses (Dartington Tweeds) into a co-operative but this was not pursued. There are some contemporary agricultural co-operatives in the area. Most notably the South Devon Organic Producers which supplies the Riverford Organic Vegetables business (see section 2.2).




Economic Focused Community enterprises

Totnes Development Trust The Totnes Development Trust which was established in 1998. One of the key instigators of the project was Michael Kendall who moved to Totnes in 1994 with the intention of linking his green conferencing business (Green Paths) with Dartington [59]. TDT has yet to develop an ʻasset base ̓ with which to support employment and education. Having developed a project for shared artist workspace it spent several years attempting to secure premises without success.




Devonlane Credit Union Initial plans for a Totnes Credit Union were developed in the late 1990s and evolved into a merger with the existing Devonlane Credit Union. The Credit Union has an office and collection point in Birdwood House at the centre of Totnes and around a 100 members from the Totnes area.

Devonlane Credit Union Initial plans for a Totnes Credit Union were developed in the late 1990s and evolved into a merger with the existing Devonlane Credit Union. The Credit Union has an office and collection point in Birdwood House at the centre of Totnes and around a 100 members from the Totnes area.

Alternative Food Initiatives

Organic Box schemes The Riverford Organic Vegetables box scheme originated in the area in the early1990s. This fol lowed previous experiments with box schemes. There is also a smaller Natures Round scheme which co-exists with Riverford.

Organic Box schemes The Riverford Organic Vegetables box scheme originated in the area in the early1990s. This fol lowed previous experiments with box schemes. There is also a smaller Natures Round scheme which co-exists with Riverford.

Farm shopsThere are a number of farm shops in the Totnes area including one run b y t h e R i v e r f o r d f a m i l y i n Dartington.

Farm shopsThere are a number of farm shops in the Totnes area including one run b y t h e R i v e r f o r d f a m i l y i n Dartington.

ʻAlternativeʼ Markets There are popular markets on a Friday and Saturday which provide an outlet for small scale growers. A monthly farmers market ran for 6 years until October 2008 when it was forced to close due to poor custom. #

ʻAlternativeʼ Markets There are popular markets on a Friday and Saturday which provide an outlet for small scale growers. A monthly farmers market ran for 6 years until October 2008 when it was forced to close due to poor custom. #

Community Supported Farming schemesThe area has seen several attempts at experimenting with Community Supported Farming schemes in the area (see section 2.3 and Table 7.2)



Currencies LETS The first LETS in Totnes was started in 1986 following a visit to the area by Michael Linton, inventor of the system. This made it one of the earliest schemes in the UK. The first iteration of the scheme folded but it was relaunched in Sept 1991. The second scheme built up a sizable membership (181 in 1993) including several businesses. It was researched by Williams (1995) who suggested it was one of the largest rural schemes in the UK. However, in the following years it struggled for resources and administration and folded in 2006. Recently there has been some effort to restart the scheme.

LETS The first LETS in Totnes was started in 1986 following a visit to the area by Michael Linton, inventor of the system. This made it one of the earliest schemes in the UK. The first iteration of the scheme folded but it was relaunched in Sept 1991. The second scheme built up a sizable membership (181 in 1993) including several businesses. It was researched by Williams (1995) who suggested it was one of the largest rural schemes in the UK. However, in the following years it struggled for resources and administration and folded in 2006. Recently there has been some effort to restart the scheme.







Totnes Pound The Totnes Pound was launched in March 2007 under the auspices of the Transition Town Totnes initiative. It became a high profile currency which has inspired further currencies elsewhere (see Longhurst 2010a).

Social markets

A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers. A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers. A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers. A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers. A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers. A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers. A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers. A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers. A number of different social markets are highly visible in the town. E.g. fairtrade, organic, ʻlocalʼ, ʻgreenʼ. This is reflected not only by the presence of specialist businesses in these markets but also the presence of such products in non-specialist retailers.

Totnes Involvement in Local Trading (TILT) TILT was a local loan fund that ran between 1989 and 1996. It was intended to provide finance for local businesses and enterprises that could not access finance elsewhere. It can be regarded as a pioneering form of Community Development Finance Initiative (CDFI), community investment institutions which have grown in significance since the 1990s (McGeehan 2007).

Table 7.1: Postcapitalist institutions in the Totnes area

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Furthermore, whilst there has been some experimentation with forms of

community enterprises that have a specific economic focus it is hard to sustain

the argument that any of these enterprises have had a significant economic

impact. In the six years that it was active the TILT loan fund never managed to

exceed £4,780 in assets.57 The Totnes Development Trust has no employees and

has yet to be able to secure and hold any assets in community ownership. The

Credit Union has only around 100 local members and struggles for both

resources and users. Both the LETS currency of the 1990s and the Totnes Pound

have attracted national media attention and inspired other places to experiment

with local currencies. However, in their own right, neither has managed to

construct significant new circuits of economic value within the locality.

Williams’ (1995) research on the Totnes Acorn (LETS currency) suggests that it

accounted for somewhere between 1.6% and 7.5% of members’ household

income. It is questionable whether, as he claims, this reflects ‘significant’

additional income. Furthermore, there remained problems with the spending of

the currency. Bishopston Trading, one of the businesses that participated made a

substantial loss through being unable to spend the Acorns that they had accepted

[30]. Similarly the economic impact of the Totnes Pound at this point reflects,

like its counterpart in Lewes, an ‘economic microcosm’ (Graugaard 2009). It is

difficult to measure the number of Totnes Pound notes in circulation but between

January and September 2008 a total of 2,352 notes were ‘cashed in’ from

participating businesses, a minute proportion of the local economy. 58

Whilst there has been some innovative experimentation in community-based

forms of postcapitalist activity they have, in the most part, faltered or struggled.

Whilst there have been a number of reasons for this, the data suggest that a

common factor is the lack of economic surplus in order to maintain the

institutions. All of the above community economic organisations have struggled

for resources to enable them to function effectively, relying primarily on

volunteer labour. Both TILT and LETS folded due to a lack of organisational

capacity. This is not an uncommon problem for small-scale monetary

experiments (Aldridge and Patterson 2002). Similarly, both Totnes Development

57 Interview 37 and analysis of TILT minutes 58 Analysis of Totnes Pound records

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Trust and Devonlane Credit Union were also stretched in terms of resources at

the time of research. This was also the experience of the Totnes Pound, a factor

that has hindered its development (Longhurst 2010a). As such, the research

suggests that alternative culture (in the form of the localised Countercultural

milieu) is not a sufficient condition to enable radical postcapitalist experiments to

overcome the resource deficiencies that often hinder their development

elsewhere (e.g. Davison 2006; Chatterton and Pickerill 2010). The first empirical

argument of this chapter is that radical forms of postcapitalist economic

institution do not appear to be more economically viable around Totnes than

they might be elsewhere.

Contrastingly, it is argued that the independent businesses and social markets are

the more significant forms of postcapitalist institutions within the Totnes area.

As summarised in Table 7.1 a range of different ‘non-capitalist’ businesses and

markets intersect within the locality. This leads to the second argument that this

chapter makes: that the more economically significant aspects of postcapitalism

in the Totnes area are entwined with capitalistic processes and structures. The

significant aspects of postcapitalism in the Totnes area therefore reflect

manifestations of ‘ethical’ or ‘local’ forms of capitalism rather than more radical

economic spaces. However, this research reveals that despite the apparent

geographical density of these postcapitalist practices there is actually little

sustained coherence between them. Indeed, some of them are sustained by

extensive economic relationships that extend beyond South Devon. The third

empirical argument is that despite the apparent density of different practices

there is little coherence between different postcapitalist institutions. In other

words, they do not link up to create sustained economic circuits or spaces. These

arguments are set out in more detail through an exploration of the organic food

marketscape of Totnes.

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7.2 The organic food ‘marketscape’

Lyson and Green (1999, 134) proposed the concept of a marketscape to refer to:

the geographic configurations of market opportunities relative to agricultural production capabilities…Marketscapes are the geographic spaces in which agricultural and food systems are organised. They represent landscapes of production and consumption

The ‘marketscape’ therefore provides a conceptual tool to bring together the

different institutions of a given locality and a useful lens through which to

explore questions of coherence. The organic food marketscape in the Totnes area

can be regarded as one of the most visible aspects of postcapitalism in the

locality. As illustrated in Figure 7.1 below, it cuts across the postcapitalist

institutional categories overviewed in Table 7.1 above.

Figure 7.1: Dimensions of the postcapitalism organic food marketscape

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It is necessary briefly to contextualise the organic food marketscape within wider

marketscapes of the area. Firstly, it reflects one dimension of a wider ‘quality’

food culture within the area. The food critic Mathew Fort (2007) recently asked

What is it about Totnes that encourages a range of opportunities to eat that wouldn’t be out of place in Naples? How do they survive?

Similarly, research by Ilbery et al. (2006, 220) highlight the strength of a ‘local

food sector’ within the area speculating that it

might be associated with the presence of “alternative” culture and lifestyles. Totnes, Dartington and Dartmouth (TQ7 andTQ9) are involved with the promotion of sustainable technologies and lifestyles, including sustainable food production and consumption

As such, the area exhibits several features of what Lyson and Green (1999) call

the ‘New Agriculture’, such as Community Supported Agriculture, Farmers

Markets, small- scale producers and organic farmers. As such, on the surface the

organic marketscape appears to reflect a version of idealised local organic food

economy that might appear in the pro-localisation literature (e.g. McKibben

2007).

The organic food marketscape also exists within a wider ‘organic’ marketscape

that extends beyond food. There are also markets/retailers/producers for organic

non-food products such as organic clothing, reflected in the presence of specialist

retailers such as Green Fibres, Seasalt and Salago. This marketscape is nested

within an even broader marketscape involving ‘green’ markets and businesses.

However, this section is not an in-depth exploration of the wider organic

marketscape, but instead focuses on three key elements of the organic food

marketscape: (1) independent organic retailers, (2) Riverford Organic Vegetables

and, (3) small-scale Community Supported Agriculture producers. Each of these

has its own claim to ‘significance’ and each is explored separately below.

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7.2.1 Independent organic retailers

(i) Origins of organic retail in Totnes

The early organic retailers are a good example of institutions that emerged from

and were sustained by the emerging Countercultural milieu discussed in the last

chapter. The first health food business in Totnes was the Herb of Grace at 35

High Street. Established in 1967/8 it was run by Sula Williams. An advert from

1971 the same year describes it as selling ‘A full Range of Health Foods and

Herbal Remedies, Fresh Yoghourt [sic], Whole Meal Bread, Organically – grown

Fruit and Vegetables.’ 59 In 1973 the Herb of Grace was sold to Cranks who

opened their Totnes shop in the premises at the beginning of June. The

background to Cranks and their connection to Dartington were covered in the last

chapter. Their connection to south Devon had led them to open a shop in

Dartmouth in 1971 and then in March 1976 the Cranks restaurant at the Cider

Press Centre in Dartington was opened. Cranks itself was inspired by a ‘re-

education’ in health that was experienced by the founders David and Kay Canter.

This led them to establish the first Cranks in Carnaby Street London with its

emphasis on vegetarianism, wholefoods and organic produce. Its ethics also

encompassed a strong affiliation with crafts and a form of organisation that

meant that ‘[i]nstead of the hierarchy of jobs, ours was the amateur, family style

approach’ (Canter, 1982, 13). The Cranks business itself was later sold and the

premises in Totnes became the Totnes Health Food Shop and then later Seeds,

although locally many people still referred to it as ‘Cranks’ [34].

Another Countercuisine retailer business that had Dartington connections was

Sacks. This was established by Tom and Lynda Merrington and started as a

market stall in March 1975 selling brown rice and wholemeal flour and other

health food products. Tom had been at the Dartington School where his mother

had taught during the Second World War. After a year on the market, Sacks

moved into a shop unit in The Narrows in the spring of 1976. The motivation

behind Sacks was a mixture of personal interest in food and ethical intent:

59 Veasey’s Directory of Totnes and Bridgetown (1971), p. 17.

210

I’ve always been into wholefoods health foods myself being brought up as a vegetarian and that kind of thing so I’ve always been sort of focused on that kind of thing, quality of food and…so bringing up a large family I realised that health food shops … with all [the] packaging and marketing and so on were expensive and so I thought I would look into trying to do it cheaper … which is sort of that led me and my wife to realise that there were other sources of wholefoods, not so packaged

Tom Merrington [51]

Therefore Sacks, partly inspired by a shop called City Ditch in Exeter, was

opened in order to compete directly with Cranks in the emerging market for

health-foods. However, there was still a strong ethical purpose behind the

business, both in terms of a genuine belief in wholefoods and in the fact the

business should only make a ‘fair’ profit. As Linda Merrington said on the

opening of the shop:

“We only want to make enough to live on, not a vast profit”, said Linda “there is no mystery about whole-food – it doesn’t need to be expensive or glossily packaged”

Linda Merrington co-founder of Sacks, quoted in Sherrack No. 7

This is an example of what Belasco (2007) calls ‘honest pricing.’ Sacks also

provided an outlet for members of the South Devon Organic Growers co-

operative [25]. Independent retailers first created the market for organic produce

in Totnes the late 1960s. These pioneers could be considered ethical businesses

in their attempts to incorporate certain values into their businesses. At the time of

the field research there were five independent retailers who sold organic food as

a principle aspect of their business as illustrated in figure 7.2 below. Riverford

also have another farm-shop nearby in Dartington that has a wide range of

organic produce.

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Figure 7.2: Independent organic retail specialists in Totnes town centre (2008)

(ii) A (Counter)cultural ‘enclave’ economy

Those independent retailers that also had premises in other places noted the

unusualness of the organic food market in Totnes. Ben Watson, comparing his

shops in Kitley (16 miles from Totnes) and Totnes suggested:

Kitley-wise…there is less interest in organic down there. The local thing is good and we are slowly becoming…I mean there are some shall we saw less open-minded people…I mean organic is just like a swear word. Yeah people will honestly say…I mean some people have said to me before ‘I’m seventy years old I’m not going to eat organic because you say its better for me because basically if I did that I’d be admitting to myself that I’ve been making a mistake the last seventy years and I’m not going to do that’ and people…I have actually…I mean someone actually wrote me a letter saying that once, ‘We don’t want your organic stuff down here, what are you saying we’ve been wrong we’ve been wrong for years’ and all that. But so while Totnes there is definitely an established market for organic produce as you can see, Greenlife whatever…

Ben Watson [42]

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Helen Pope who ran the Seeds Health Food Shop and organic bakery noted how

they were not able to replicate their Totnes success in other places:

We thought that the other shops…I mean we thought ‘Ah we’ve got this cracked same formula we could do it again.’ No. I mean it worked because of Totnes. Totnes is a special place. Trading is good. It’s unique. It’s busy because of its attractiveness.

Helen Pope [34]

She goes on to explain how the Totnes shop was different to the shops that they

also ran in Exmouth and Dartmouth, where it was harder to sell the produce:

And I mean you’d chat and talk to people and they’d try things and you’d win them over and you had to build the market. You know you had to market it very, very strongly as that with a really strong front. Whereas in Totnes you’d stand behind the till and basket fulls and basket fulls of the stuff just goes through the door.

Helen Pope [34]

The specialist businesses operating in this market believed that they met a

predominately local need, but felt that they served customers who came from

across the wider South Hams. This suggests in the case of organic food Totnes

acts as a ‘local’ retail centre for a wider geographic area than might otherwise be

expected for a settlement of its size. Its role as a ‘countercultural’ economic

centre creates a hinterland that exceeds that which might be expected of a

‘normal’ market town.

Those businesses that specialise in organic food retail attribute the consumer

demand to the ‘Dartington effect’ discussed in the last chapter and the associated

‘alternative’ cultures:

Totnes is quite unique I don’t know why um obviously Dartington Hall influence must have been instrumental in making Totnes…well I don’t think there are many rural towns I would like to live in really, but I mean there’s not many around that um but certainly have the um same sort of liberal open-mindedness about a breadth of sort of things that Totnes has

213

I don’t think. I'm sure there are I just don’t know them…which I think makes it easy, easier.

Ben Watson [42]

But you know it is a hot bed for alternative stuff and that’s I would say that’s ninety percent of the reason for the success of Greenlife

Jamie Sermon [41]

Well I suppose it just goes with the alternative…the nuts and seeds and vegetarian based healthy diet which is brilliant, I mean it’s a shame it hasn’t spread more really. It would be great for Britain at the moment

Helen Pope [34]

In terms of specific alternative cultures, both Ben Watson and Helen Pope

considered the importance of the ‘community’ created by the South Devon

Steiner school as being particularly important in creating demand for organic and

vegetarian food. Helen Pope also discussed the way in which they met the needs

of different subcultures interested in health:

All vegetarian always, always organically sourced and very much sort of thinking about the different dietary requirements of people, you know there’s the wheat free brigade there’s the gluten free brigade, there’s the sugar free brigade, and there’s also…we did a lot of mainstream hungry people who wanted a healthy lunch

Helen Pope [34]

Jamie Sermon also made a connection with alternative health:

Well I think its because of the kind of people in Totnes you know there are an incredible amount of therapists and they are usually very health conscious and very aware of what they should be eating and shouldn’t be eating and so on and there are just a lot of alternative types and Dartington College attracts a lot of people of that type as well, just population was right for that kind of thing.

Jamie Sermon [41]

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Greenlife was originally established as a business that would sell ‘green’

products and, unlike the pioneering countercuisine businesses, was at least partly

inspired by the financial success of the Body Shop. The shift into health foods

and CAM products was driven by consumer demand. As Jamie Sermon explains,

this was partly because the East Arch in Totnes caught fire on September 14th

1990 blocking the main pedestrian route up through the town centre:

People were saying to us ‘Can you stock some of the things that we would have otherwise had to walk up Sacks or had to walk up to Totnes Health Shop to get?’ and so we did and started getting in more food and more homeopathic remedies and herbal remedies and all these things that we didn’t know anything about.

Jamie Sermon [41]

The data therefore suggest that a tangible economic effect of the Countercultural

milieu has been to create a strong localised demand for organic produce. As such

the organic market could be a manifestation of a (cultural) enclave economy

(Starr 2000, p 132). This is a term that is usually deployed in relation to urban

ethnic enclaves (e.g. Light et al. 1994) but here the term is used to capture the

local embeddedness of the organic food market, rooted within the localised

manifestations of the Countercultural milieu. This notion of an ‘enclave

economy’ not only reflects the way in which the milieu creates demand for

certain types of good and product (such as organic food) but also the process by

which entrepreneurs emerge from the milieu to provide services and goods to

meet culturally specific needs. However, as the last chapter illustrated, this

demand is not created by a single ‘alternative’ culture but by the overlapping

propinquity of a range of different countercultural strands. As well as the ‘green’

cultures in the area, the density of CAM activity must play an important factor in

sustaining the market, as a recognised driver in the consumption of organic

produce (Lampkin 1990; Makatouni 2002; Lobley et al. 2009). Thus whilst some

of the businesses might be considered ‘postcapitalist’ it is questionable whether

the market can be defined as such.

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(iii) The preservation of independent retail

As discussed in Chapter Four, some writers advocate small, independent

businesses as a form of non-capitalist/postcapitalist activity (Schumacher [1973]

1993; Ross 1986; Korten 1999). A retail study published in 2006 by South Hams

District Council confirms that Totnes has a lower than average number of

multiple retailers, at 20% opposed to the national average of 34%. It goes on to

state that:

The role of small, independent operators is particularly evident in Totnes, and is considered an important characteristic and attraction of the centre.

South Hams District Council (2006b), 22

The prevalence of independent retail is a feature of Totnes’ economy that was

highlighted by several interviewees as an aspect of its ‘alternative’ economy:

Well I think the advantages are that um Totnes somehow has drawn to itself and sustained a whole group of independent retailers who largely speaking I don’t think do tread on each others toes, we’re respectful of what each sell and collectively we’ve been able to put together I think an attractive shopping centre compared to the cities.

Jim Pilkington [14]

Most small town high streets are just full of multiples and building societies and estate agents and not much else…Totnes is really special in the range of speciality shops. It’s a speciality shopping centre of all sorts.

Douglas Cockbain [49]

I felt that in terms of this town’s overall economy the independent businesses were one of the most important factors in the town yeah. It’s what brings people into town. And they come into town and they come into town, they, they eat here, they shop here, they drink here, they sometimes want to come and live here even…and that its what gives the town…its unique appearance

Paul Wesley [6]

216

The independent organic retailers therefore reflect one part of the independent

retail sector that can be characterised as an ‘alternative’ system of provision to

the dominant (‘capitalist’) supermarket system of food retail.

Figure 7.3: Small retail units in The Narrows, Totnes.

There are two principle reasons that Totnes has been able to retain a density of

independent retailers. The first reason relates to the way in which statutory

efforts to preserve the heritage of the town have had the side effect of regulating

physical retail space. Devon County Council designated a large proportion of

Totnes town centre as one of the first Conservation Areas in the county in July

1969. The District Council subsequently extended this in 1985. The

Conservation Area covers most of the retail centre and has restricted the

redevelopment of the town centre. As such many of the shop units are too small

for those normally required by ‘multiples’. Furthermore for much of the 1970s

there was a development embargo due to inadequate sewerage facilities, acting

as a further buffer on physical redevelopment of the town.

217

The second reason that Totnes has been able to retain an independent retail sector

is that the town has not seen the development of significant supermarket or out of

town retail provision. It seems that the combination of its small size, topography,

and the absence of suitable development sites have been the factors which have

limited supermarket provision. Located as it is, in a steep river valley, there are

very few suitable large, flat development sites for new-build ‘out of town’ retail.

A small supermarket opened in the mid 1980s just off Fore Street on the site of

former Critchell Hostel squat. However, it was not until the mid 1990s that a

larger supermarket (Safeways, now Morrisons) opened on the site of the former

Harris bacon factory. In keeping with the activist aspects of the milieu, the

development of both supermarkets was subject to local protest.

Therefore the reasons that Totnes has retained an independent retail sector does

not directly relate to any form of place-based postcapitalist activism or the

existence of the countercultural milieu. Instead the combination of spatial

regulation and geographical factors appears to have created the ongoing

possibility for independent retail to survive. Indeed any causal relationship with

the milieu is likely to be the other way: The preservation of an unusual retail

centre creates a specific sense of place that attracts both visitors and migrants.

Many ‘alternative’ businesses have benefited from the ongoing existence of this

independent retail centre and the availability of small, cheap units has been

instrumental in enabling new businesses to get established. However, as

discussed in the next section, that does not mean that the retail centre has not

changed over the years.

(iv) The gentrification of the retail centre

The data suggested that as Totnes’ reputation as an alternative centre grew, so

the economic pressures on the retail centre changed. Certainly, amongst a range

of interviewees there were shared perceptions that the town had become busier

[e.g. 23, 34, 61] and more affluent [e.g. 11, 41, 22]. One impact of this was that

new businesses were attracted to the town in the 1990s by its ‘alternative’

reputation such as Bishopston Trading [30] and Green Fibres [11]. Such

businesses reflected new institutions within the countercultural milieu but also

218

reflected the evolution of Totnes into a ‘specialist’ retail centre. Some businesses

welcome this perceived improvement to the town:

I think the, the standard of retail shop has improved and from being a sort of old fashioned market town it’s now you know it has a better image.

Jim Pilkington [14]

However, other businesses noted downsides to this evolution such as an increase

in rents and rates [6, 58]. Paul Wesley, the chair of the Chamber of Commerce

suggested that the profusion of charity shops had the effect of putting up rates

and were also popular with landlords. He suggested that in the 1980s many of the

properties were bought up by investment house and banks that were absent

landlords. Paul Wesley went on to describe the pressure that the independent

retail sector was under:

…at the moment…I think that most independents just aren’t economically viable…and that they survive on one of the partners working in another job. I know of one that survives because the owner draws a pension and that’s her income. It’s not the income from the shop. Or they survive in my case because I own the property, I bought it twenty-five years ago, I’m still paying the mortgage on it.

Paul Wesley [6]

Certainly Greenlife noted their regret in not buying their premises from their

Gibraltar based landlord [41]. Several other of the ‘specialist’ independent

businesses were also predominately supported by catalogue and on-line

customers rather than footfall in Totnes [11, 30]. This had prompted Green Shoes

– a women’s run, former co-operative that emerged from the milieu in 1981 to

move out of Totnes:

we were weary of running a shop, it also had very high overheads…you didn’t have much flexibility…and we weren’t earning enough money for all the work we were doing. We were constantly firefighting and not able to do any forward planning. So we sold and have increased flexibility and put ourselves under different pressure on the web, running workshops as well as having our new premises open five days a week. We are taking ourselves more seriously and we’re hoping that it will work

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Alison Hastie [8]

The implications here for the organic retail businesses is that the same conditions

which have supported their existence – the countercultural milieu and Totnes’

role as an ‘independent’ retail centre are also factors which seem to have

contributed to the gentrification of the town centre and thus made retailing more

problematic. Such processes of gentrification appear to undermine the potential

of postcapitalist businesses to prosper in the longer term. It also highlights a

disjunction between those businesses that are attempting to serve the needs of the

local ‘enclave’ economy and those that are instead reliant on tourism and

placeless commerce. Indeed many of the interviewed non-food businesses relied

primarily on national custom facilitated via websites or catalogues.

(v) Competition within the organic marketscape

The wider processes of gentrification were not the only source of economic

pressures on independent organic retailers. There was also evidence of increasing

pressures within the local organic marketscape. For a market that is

predominately embedded within a specific mixture of local cultures it was not

surprising that businesses perceive their competition in particularly ‘local’ terms.

One dimension of this competition is between the specialist businesses

themselves. Barry and Helen Pope explained that Seeds developed an organic

bakery business to cope with the competition from the growing Greenlife, which

moved into larger premises in 1994. Greenlife themselves are now increasingly

focusing on their national Internet based distribution business [41]. The most

recent specialist organic shop was established in 2008 by Annies, an existing

grocer who had very little ideological commitment to organic food, unlike the

pioneers discussed earlier. The proprietor explained how they first started selling

organic food:

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A few people asked and the old man said ‘no’ and [then] I got more involved in the shop I’d been travelling and come back and I said ‘Yeah OK, we’ll do a bit.’ We done a little bit and its just grown I suppose. You know it’s not personal, its business isn’t it? You sell what people want don’t you?

Sean Johnson [58]

The fact that the Annies Organic shop closed after a one-year ‘trial’ period

suggests that by 2008 (the time of the fieldwork) the local market was at a

saturation point. It also illustrated that competition is a dynamic feature of the

organic marketscape. Indeed, the interviewed businesses also spoke about the

rising competition from non-specialist retailers who compete in the same

markets. When Tom Merrington started Sacks his only competitor was Cranks

but

then places like Happy Apple [a local convenience store] started to creep in and get in on the act, and then there was money to be made and the competition began to increase as we mentioned, in the eighties

Tom Merrington [51]

Similarly, Jamie Sermon from Greenlife:

And even though you know other shops realised it as well and sell things which you wouldn’t get in a normal town, like Food for Thought [a deli] and so on, various other shops up the road …they all sell rice cakes and soya milk and so on

Jamie Sermon [41]

Competition from supermarkets was discussed as further dimension of

competition:

supermarkets are now latching onto the fact that people want organic food and gluten free food and free from sugar food and free from wheat food and so on and so you see more and more of that in supermarkets slowly but surely competition is increasing.

Jamie Sermon [41]

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Ben Watson also spoke of his perception of increased competition in recent years:

Oh definitely yeah…from 2001 from foot and mouth was...it just generated…with [the] Western Morning News having their ‘buy local’ campaign...it generated so much goodwill towards small local foods and farmers as well…but the next sort of four or five years were pretty good for everybody really and people that got on the bandwagon early…managed to establish their place in the market so to speak, but I think there’s an awful lot of people, I think there is a hell of a lot of people, that have either not done it very effectively or done it too late like these two farm shops that I have mentioned. They really have missed the boat and all they do is make it hard for everybody really without making money themselves.

Ben Watson [42]

The data suggest then that the organic retail businesses face ongoing pressures

both from each other and from a wider range of businesses entering the markets

in which they operate. Like businesses within the ‘capitalist’ market they are

constantly having to adapt to new competition. That such markets are dynamic

and internally competitive is a factor that is often overlooked in the literature that

valorises social markets as a progressive force and a challenge to capitalism and

growth (e.g. Henderson 2006; Ekins 1992; Wall 2005). Indeed, it raises questions

about whether social markets can be considered as ‘non-capitalist’. Such

valorisation often also conflates the market with the participant, ignoring that the

growth of the market can lead to the marginalisation of the original ideological

pioneers. Instead, the experiences of these businesses seems to provide a

localised example of the way in which ideological countercultural ‘niches’ such

as organic food can be appropriated by the mainstream (Belasco 2007; Smith

2006).

(vi) Summary

This section has explored the independent organic retail businesses that have

developed in the Totnes area. It has been argued that they reflect a significant

part of the local organic marketscape, reflecting an important dimension of a

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localised enclave economy that has emerged from the milieu. However, it has

also highlighted the fragility of these businesses and some of the key economic

pressures that they are under. The gentrification of Totnes – partly a consequence

of the countercultural milieu – has undermined the viability of independent retail

in the town. Furthermore, the expansion of the ‘postcapitalist’ market threatens

to undermine the independent businesses that first helped to construct it, pointing

to contradictions and conflict between different dimensions of the ‘diverse

economy’. Whilst these tendencies have been resisted so far, the businesses have

to keep adapting to survive, suggesting that being located in Totnes does not

particularly enable such businesses to transcend the problems faced by similar

businesses elsewhere.

7.2.2 Riverford Organic Vegetables The second aspect of the organic food marketscape that this chapter explores is

Riverford Organic Vegetables. Its particular claim to significance is its rise to

become perhaps the largest organic vegetable box scheme in the UK as part of a

group of family owned businesses that are all based near Totnes.

(i) Emergence of Riverford Organic Vegetables

John Watson first rented Riverford Farm a few miles from Totnes in the 1950s.

Starting with 120 acres he later expanded to incorporate two other farms giving a

total acreage of around 500 acres. In its earlier years Riverford was part of a

scheme involving ICI whereby it was a model for chemical based industrial

agriculture. John Watson believes that reading environmentalist literature such as

the Ecologist and its Blueprint for the Future was more important in stimulating

his own conversion to organic methods than exposure to the local ‘alternative’

cultures [9]. During the 1970s he experimented with self-sufficiency and

diversification (farm tours) before, in the 1980s his children developed a range of

organic agricultural and food-based enterprises, including Riverford Organic

Vegetables, established by Guy Watson in around 1986.

Although the impact of the milieu was less direct on John Watson, it did have

some impact on Guy Watson’s business philosophy. He cited Gordon Strutt, one

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of the area’s early organic smallholders, as a formative influence, as was Andy

Langford a local businessman / activist who gave him a copy of Honest Business

(Philips and Rasberry 1981) a book that was connected to the San Francisco

Briarpatch network. Briarpatch arrived in Devon via Dartington and there was

for a while a South West UK network which involved some Totnes businesses.

Its ideas of ethical business and right livelihood had an influence on Guy

Watson:

the combination of reading that and speaking to him a couple of times I think at that very formative time when I was starting my business. I think it really shaped quite a lot of my thinking obviously together with loads of other things, I think my father was probably quite influential actually.

Guy Watson [22]

Therefore the ethics of Riverford were at least in part, shaped by the

Countercultural milieu. However, he also recalled being inspired by the farmers

markets that he had seen in the USA. Furthermore, both his parents were also

important influence on him, his mother in terms of her love of food and his father

in terms of his rejection of industrial agriculture.

Guy Watson starting by selling his produce in his brother Ben’s farm shop and

on Totnes market before expanding to supply a range of local shops. This then

expanded further to a range of shops from Cornwall to Dorset. However Guy had

a formative experience with a supermarket buyer that led him to seek an

alternative to the ‘conventional’ supermarket system:

he got this magic call from a supermarket buyer saying ‘We’re considering listing you’ they don’t give you contracts, they never give you contracts, they ‘list’ you …‘come and see us tomorrow’ and Guy said ‘Well I can’t make it tomorrow could it be the next day’ and the phone went dead. And Guy re-established contact and said to the chap ‘I’m sorry I think we were cut off’ and the classic answer came, actually this manager chap was with him at the same time so is a sight witness to it: ‘I cut you off sonny, look when we whistle you’ve got to learn to jump’

John Watson [9]

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This experience led Watson actively to seek an alternative to the supermarket

distribution system. At around this time (1992) he learned about a vegetable box

scheme that Tim and Jan Deane has established at their 30 acre farm in the

nearby Teign Valley (Deane 2003). Guy Watson decided to replicate this model

becoming one of the first few ‘official’ box schemes in the country. However, as

the next section discusses the economic success of Riverford has been based on it

constructing new scales of operation unlike other local growers, who remained

focused on ‘local’ markets.

(ii) Transcending the locality

Vegetable box schemes are often characterised a type of Alternative Food

Initiative which ‘shorten’ the food chain between supplier and customer

(Marsden et al. 2000). They are therefore promoted as one tool for food

localisation. In contrast to this idealised model, Riverford has developed a

business growth model that based on the franchising of delivery rounds. This

model has underpinned the expansion of the Riverford business across the South

of England and now beyond into the wider UK. However, this expansion has not

lead to the complete abandonment of the localist ethic of vegetable box

distribution systems. Riverford is attempting to establish regional hubs of

farmers who can supply delivery franchisees in other parts of the country. The

first of these (River Nene) was established in 2004 and currently four other such

hubs exist. Riverford has stated its intention to reduce the geographic market

served by its own production to the just the South West region. Clarke et al.

(2008) describe the business model as ‘expanding without expanding.’ Figures

for the exact number of weekly boxes delivered vary but it seems likely to be in

the region of 30,000 per week. 60 However the expansion of Riverford is

indicated by a recent Soil Association (2008) directory which lists 229 organic

box schemes in England and Wales. Of these 105 (or 46%) are part of the

Riverford franchise network. Guy’s brother Ben Watson also sells organic ‘meat

60 Clarke et al. (2008, 222) suggest 50,000 boxes to 20,000 households every month. Coley (2009, 153) suggests 32,000 per week. An interview with Watson (Prince 2008) suggests 45,000 boxes per week. BBC (2009) suggests 27,000 per week.

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boxes’ as one strand of his Riverford business which are then distributed through

the national network.

The geographic expansion of the Riverford vegetable box business means that it

now operates over multiple scales (Clarke et al 2008). Local production therefore

now far exceeds the demand of the ‘local’ market and despite the fact that

Riverford produce is widely available within the Totnes area, and reflects a

significant part of the organic food ‘materiality’ within the area, through both

Riverford Organic Vegetables, the farm shops and also Riverford Dairy.

However, Guy Watson explained that even though there was a burgeoning

market for organic produce in the area in the mid 1980s it was never large

enough to absorb his vegetable production:

I started to [deliver to] three or four local shops and most of my sales couldn’t care if it was organic or not…there was that kind of incipient demand. There was some health food shops and there were a lot of people talking about it. There was Cranks at Dartington, I think there might have been Willow, a couple of kind of health food, vegetariany, sort of restaurants. And people were just starting to talk about it but there…and the only outlets were health food shops whose sales were pretty minimal so you know I ended up selling to greengrocers…I couldn’t charge them quite as much but they took larger volumes and they just wanted, really wanted it to be fresh.

Guy Watson [22]

This experience echoes one of the other small-scale pioneer organic growers who

were working in the late 1970s and 1980s found that at that time the market

could not absorb their produce. A small-scale organic grower did feel that there

was a more developed organic market than other places at that time, but that it

was still not large enough to absorb all of his produce:

…fifty percent of my stuff went to an ordinary shop in Ashburton, then the other fifty percent would go to the organic market if you like.


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Therefore whilst there has been longstanding demand from the local milieu and

local outlets in the form of shops, cafés and markets stalls, the size of the local

market for organic produce has therefore not been sufficient to support local

producers. To overcome this Riverford expanded the geographical scale of its

customer base, before switching to the wholesale market. Those that remained

‘localised’ such as Charles Staniland were required to augment their incomes

with other activities. As Oliver Watson has observed:

the way vegetable box has grown is to find the two percent of people who want to buy organic stuff nationally or over a large area and sell it to them.

Ollie Watson [48]

This research therefore suggests that the demand of the enclave economy for

organic produce has not been sufficient to support small-scale local growers.

Riverford confronted this dilemma by transcending the local market in order to

survive. Therefore whilst the circuits of value that sustain it might be considered

to be ‘non-capitalist’ (in that they bypass the industrial food systems) they are

not particularly localised.

There are several other aspects of Riverford that give it strong postcapitalist

credentials. For a start it is a family owned, independent business. It practices a

form of more ecologically benign agriculture. It appears to have a wider set of

ethics and motives that guide the business and for which it has won numerous

awards. It undertakes research into its own environmental impact (e.g. Coley et

al. 2009). It is aware of the paradox of its own expansion and is attempting to

develop a regionalised model that develops localised growing capacity. It also

appears to practice non-exploitative relationships with its suppliers and Guy

Watson spoke of his ‘responsibility’ for his franchisees. However, it can be

argued that the geographic expansion of Riverford has drawn it into wider

capitalistic processes and structures, as discussed below.

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(iii) Organic conventionalism

The ‘conventionalism’ debate refers to the debate over the extent to which the

expansion of organic markets and agriculture has led to their incorporation by

capitalist processes and structures (Holt 2007). This section argues that the

growth of Riverford has seen it exhibit some aspects of organic conventionalism.

By his own admission Guy Watson is:

not an absolute evangelical believer [in organic]. I’m kind of pragmatic.

Guy Watson [22]

His decision organically was also based on his own experiences of the health

impacts on farmers of using chemical sprays, rather than any particularly strong

ideological motivation, as well as a sense that there was a growing market for

organic produce. Following Smith’s (2006) terminology of organic pioneers Guy

Watson can be characterised as an ‘entrepreneurial system builder’ rather than an

‘idealist’. Indeed, it was suggested by his father that Guy’s background as a

management consultant has been important in the successful development of

Riverford [9].

The growth of Riverford the organic box scheme led Guy Watson to establish the

South Devon Organic Producer Co-operative in 1998. Despite the fact that he

was voted off the co-operative due to personality conflicts it retains a close

working relationship with Riverford. At the time of the research it had 10 active

members (out of a total of 14) and around 800 acres under cultivation, most of

which is in the South Hams area. Legally, it is established as an Industrial and

Provident Society (co-operative) and has a five year rolling marketing agreement

with Riverford which provides them with security of a market for their produce

and certainly contrasts with the contract arrangements that are often part of the

supermarket distribution system. The co-op pools machinery and labour and is

only able to make a small profit under Financial Service Authority regulations.

However, most of the co-operative members are primarily motivated by financial

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rather than ideological motives and there have been discussions about

demutualisation that would permit greater profits to be made [52].

The expansion of Riverford, both directly and via the co-operative has led to a

change in its engagement with labour markets, with both now relying on migrant

agricultural labour:

We used to have to put a lot of effort into trying to make crap people reasonably effective and now we just don’t bother with them. So you know we have reasonable people who we try to make very effective and our sort of starting people. And that’s and the foreign labour has enabled us to take that stance that’s the brutal truth of it. Um it is bloody hard work…with these marginal people, who you might get two or three goods hours out of in the morning and then its really hard work. You turn your back and nothing happens sort of thing they need to be managed absolutely micro-managed the whole way. And the Eastern Europeans I mean you know everyone will tell you the same thing they are just phenomenal, the you know the sort of honesty of their work.

Guy Watson [22]

So whereas Riverford had previously provided a source of casual labour for

members of the local countercultural milieu [57] its expansion has seen it

become distanced from it. Indeed, Watson expressed a specific dislike of

employing incomers who might be seeking a lifestyle change:

If they’re are moving down to this side of the world because they have re-evaluated their life and they have decided that actually it is important to spend time with their family and you know, quality of life is important, I’m sorry we are just like any other business…I want my business to be, you know, a large part of their life. Yes I do acknowledge that quality of life is important and you know the office here is pretty empty by five thirty but you know I don’t want a ‘downsizer’ and we’ve had a couple of them and they’re a waste of fucking space

Guy Watson [22]

In general Watson felt that the location of Riverford gave it few advantages.

Riverford’s changing relationship with labour markets reflected the importance

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of balancing economic imperatives with ethics. As such Watson perceived

himself as

[I am] a reluctant capitalist I think you have to accept that you live within a sort of capitalist world and you have to understand the capitalist model and be prepared to find something that will work within that sort of framework that will be a little bit more enriching to the human spirit than just naked capitalism which I just find really depressing.

Guy Watson [22]

Riverford’s entanglement with the wider processes of capitalism is also indicated

by the wealth of its customer base:

Yeah unfortunately, you know there is no doubt. I mean it must be a year or two old the data but fifty per cent of them had a household income of fifty thousand or more. I don’t know what the average household income is…forty or something? Thirty-five, forty I’m guessing? Something like that. So clearly they are the more affluent.

Guy Watson [22]

This research therefore resonates with the critique that participation in AFIs

tends to be the privilege of the affluent middle classes (Hinrichs 2000). Thus a

postcapitalist entity is supported by wealth generated elsewhere within the

economic ‘system’. Furthermore, the cost of a franchise, at around £25,000, also

requires access to capital or debt-finance and is a business model that tends to be

focused on ‘growth’. 61 Indeed the expansion of Riverford has been financed

through debt that now means that

…in our particular circumstances we do need to grow no doubt about it. We need to grow…Yeah because that investment. We have also invested a lot in IT I think probably quite dubious investments actually so we have invested three and a half million pounds in the last eighteen months two years on the assumption of this growth

Guy Watson [22]

61 See http://www.whichfranchise.com/franchisorPage.cfm?companyId=2240 last accessed 4 June 2010

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Watson also receives ‘weekly’ offers to sell the business that he has thus far

resisted, stating instead an ambition perhaps eventually to convert to employee

ownership. However, the pressure to ‘sell out’ is a recognisable trend within the

development of the organic sector in North America (Howard 2009).

(iv) Summary

This section has argued that in order to build an economically viable business

Riverford has been required to transcend the locality. Whilst it still displays some

tangible elements of postcapitalist practice, it also displays elements of organic

conventionalism. In other words, Riverford is, in different ways, both inside and

outside, different capitalist processes and systems. This research therefore

concurs with Clarke et al.’s (2008) argument that Riverford is neither a small,

local, countercultural farm nor a large transnational corporate firm but instead

occupies a space somewhere between this dichotomy. These contradictions and

tensions within the operations of Riverford can inevitably lead to different

‘readings’ of Riverford: some argue that it is a positive influence on the area [11,

46] whereas there is also some local criticism that Riverford has become ‘too

big’ [see interviews 13, 20]. The next section discusses some of the initiatives

that have attempted to build more radical local organic economies.

7.2.3 Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) (i) Origins of CSA in the Totnes area

It is worth noting that the first organic farmer in the Totnes area was not an

ideologically driven member of the countercultural milieu. Roger Jones started

farming organically at Lipton Farm in East Allington in 1969. Jones’ principal

motivation for farming organically was because he could not justify the

expenditure on fertilizers [66]. However, during the 1970s some small-scale

organic growers in the area began to emerge from the countercultural milieu such

as Ollie Bosence and David Lance. Others such as Charles Staniland had

gravitated to the area after attending the nearby Seale Hayne agricultural college

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[25]. In 1979 Staniland and Boscene got together and formed the Devon Organic

Growers co-operative, receiving a grant from the Dartington Trust to help

establish themselves. By 1981 there were 25 organic growers involved and over

70 acres of land used to produce organic fruit and vegetables. The group sold to

local businesses and also used a novel form of distributions which involved

dropping off produce at three private homes in Ashburton, Totnes and Plymouth,

inspired by a similar scheme in Switzerland. 62 This was a precursor to the

organic box scheme that by most accounts did not officially arrive in the UK

until the 1990s. The SDOG co-operative also sold produce on a stall at the

Dartington Farm Foods shop. CSA therefore has a long heritage in the area and

Table 7.2 summarises three of the recent examples.

62 See ‘The Growing Business’, The Dart, November 1981, p. 10.

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Table 7.2: Examples of Community Supported Agriculture Schemes from around the Totnes area

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It should be noted here that the examples given here do not fully reflect the full

range of CSA type initiatives in the area. For example, the Dartmoor Direct co-

operative was established in 1997 to act as a distribution hub for small-scale

producers in the area. Its main success so far is Clearly Devon bottled water that

is distributed across South Devon. Other examples include Lower Sharpham

Barton Farm another bio-dynamic initiative that distributes a small amount of

‘green top’ (unpasturised) milk around the area with the support of volunteers.

More broadly, there are also other smallholders, people involved in informal land

sharing activities, and members of the Wholesome Food Association, a low cost

‘post-organic’ certification scheme based on an ‘open gate’ policy. The

Transition Town Totnes project has also had an active strand of food focused

activity that has catalysed a successful campaign for new allotments and a

‘garden sharing’ project which has inspired a national campaign.

There is therefore an established local interest both in alternative approaches to

food production and distribution, as well as a longstanding interest in building a

‘localised’ food economy. In several cases the imaginary of the local is more

defined, focusing on the immediate Totnes area or, at the most, South Devon.

Some of these projects are based on a relationship to ‘the land’ that goes beyond

viewing it as a commodified asset. Like the organic market, such projects are

entwined in the different (spiritual) dimensions of the Countercultural milieu.

Such projects attempt to enact more radical, ‘anti-industrial’ philosophies such as

permaculture and biodynamic agriculture. Often they are also an explicit attempt

to construct new forms of economic circuit and relationship in order to sustain

small scale localised organic production. The successes of these attempts are

discussed below.

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(ii) The economics of CSA in the Totnes area

Christian Taylor explained the initial aim of the South Devon Community

Supported Farming was to:

set up a group of likeminded people to work together towards increasing the abundance and the diversity of local food produced at an affordable price for those involved in the project. The idea came from recognising that a lot of the (local) food is quite expensive and unaffordable for people so we tried to make a structure whereby people could get involved in the actual physical work on the land and could thereby reduce the eventual costs of the items. The time they’ve put in would reduce the financial price of the produce.

Dr Christian Taylor [46]

The CSF attempts therefore to engage people in the production process via

volunteering and shared labour between members. It has also launched its own

‘certification label’ for members to use. The established local market for organic

food discussed above does provide some retail opportunities for the CSF

producers. Some members ‘flypitch’ (i.e. sell without permission) at the weekly

Totnes markets [46]. The independent retailers such as Riverford and Greenlife

also provide an outlet:

…we have a lot of local suppliers I think we have thirty or forty local suppliers all together particularly in fruit and veg, lunchtime snacks, a few you know sort of baby products and I’m trying to think what else we have…I know we did a whole piece on it on one of the newsletters…I was really surprised.

Jamie Sermon (owner of Greenlife) [41]

For example, Greenlife sells the biodynamic salad bags from Velwell Orchard, a

CSF member. However, the interviews with CSF producers all revealed ongoing

problems with economics of small-scale production despite the existence of the

local market and the community support mechanisms. Christian Taylor explained

the problems of economies of scale in relation to the egg production that he was

undertaking:

235

One of the barriers to diverse local food production is economy of scale. One way we could reduce our egg price would be if we had five hundred chickens rather than just 75. I’ve done a business plan for five hundred chickens for this land. I would have had to take out quite a substantial loan to set up the five hundred chicken unit. There would have been several free rage areas. The investment for the fencing and the infrastructure including hutches, feeders and irrigation for drinking water would have been twenty thousand pounds. Instead we have this one free range area with a fraction of the birds which cost me just one thousand pounds plus a lot of hard work and time bashing in fence posts, free-cycling the hutches and installing the infrastructure. We also have a small herb, flower and vegetable production terrace - which cost another thousand pounds to sculpt into the south facing slope. What can you see for it? You know you walk past it and you just think, in comparison to any commercial venture: ‘what a small chicken area’ and ‘what a small garden’ don’t you?


Figure 7.4: ‘Little chicken area’ at Beenleigh Meadow CSF site.

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He went on talk not only about the ‘embedded capital’ in the rural landscape but

also the financial economics of his current level of production.

I make fifty quid in the market each week from the local produce, twenty pounds a week is going on the food for the chickens so that’s thirty pounds a week to take home and thirty pounds a week obviously is not enough to survive on even if you’re just single let alone if you’ve got a family. I’ve got family so its, this whole venture is just one income strand at the moment in my life. I’ve also worked it out in terms of a wage – at an hourly rate, and taking into account all the myriad of labours to produce high quality diverse food, it’s about one pound twenty an hour I get for this.


Christian was not alone in struggling to create a livelihood from his small-scale

production. None of the small-scale producers who were interviewed were able

to exist solely from the financial income generated from the land. Judy Smith

spoke of the traditional difficulty that biodynamic agriculture has in terms of its

economic viability:

Richard’s ambition was that he was going to run one of the first economically viable Biodynamic farms because they don’t have a good track record economically, unless they are able to use a lot of student help, I think I think they’re difficult enterprises to run, they are very labour intensive, and I think the whole problem of having a mixed farm means that there aren’t ever any slack times, we used to grow our own cereals, we had our own mill, and it was just sort of non-stop activity

Judy Smith [28]

Small-scale unmechanised organic production is very difficult (Dowding

undated) and being based around Totnes – despite existence of the organic

enclave economy – does not appear to make small-scale production any more

viable. Thus the recognised economic marginality of these stronger forms of AFI

(Watts et al. 2005) is not overcome by local contextual factors. In other words,

the cultural embeddedness provided by the localised countercultural milieu does

not enable diseconomies of scale to be overcome or make it necessarily easier to

construct a viable lifestyle in this way (Hinrich 2000; Sage 2003). Nor had any

of the projects found a way to get ‘outside’ the market and support their

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production in economically significant ways without recourse to the market.

Ruth and Toby discussed their aspirations to create a ‘commonwealth’ consisting

of themselves and their customers but had yet to establish a viable model for how

this might work [13]. Indeed it seems plausible that the strong local organic

market might make such more radical projects more difficult through a process

of what Morris and Buller (2003) call ‘competitive localism’. Here one form of

postcapitalist provision (a local independent social retail market) undermines the

development of other non-market possibilities because the former meets people’s

needs in a satisfactory way. The closure of the Farmers Market in 2008 might be

explained in this way, as might the perhaps surprising struggle of non-market

alternatives. Thus the strong local market provides a ‘weaker’ form of

postcapitalist alternative in that it primarily meets the needs of ‘rational’

consumers without any fundamental economic reconfiguration (Watts et al

2005). In short, the CSF projects appear to struggle to generate significant

surplus through their agricultural activity to ensure their own existence and

reproduction. Many of these businesses/initiatives display what Hinrichs (2000)

calls ‘low instrumentalism’ in that they prioritise non-economic goals. However,

the cultural embeddedness of the milieu does not enable them to easily create

livelihoods. Indeed, it is possible that the strong localist discourses that circulate

within the milieu (e.g. Transition Town Totnes 2007, 2008) might actually

hinder their development by advocating an imaginary of ‘the local’ that is too

geographically limited to sustain small-scale production.

Whilst the existing market for local organic food does not enable the CSF

initiatives to transcend the problematic economics of small-scale production the

milieu does provide support in other ways. Indeed it could be argued that whilst

it does not make CSF production more economically viable, it does, through

other mechanisms of support create the possibility for these initiatives to exist.

To some extent this support could be conceptualised as localised networks of

‘social capital’ or an economy of social regard (Lee 2000). For example,

Charlotte from the Landmatters Co-operative felt that ‘intellectual support’ was

the most important benefit of being based in the Totnes area and said that the

initiative had received financial, practical and political support from members of

the local community [60].

238

This kind of moral support appears to give the ‘pioneers’ the courage the

adversity to face challenges, as one early organic farmer suggested:

So I’m sure it helps because if, if you, if you’re struggling and you’re in an area that is supportive, that’s one thing but if you’re struggling in an area where they all think you’re wasting you time then it gets to you.


This moral support can also be translated into practical help, sometimes in the

form of mutual support between people engaged in similar activities. For

example, Charles spoke of how some of the small-scale organic growers working

in the late 1970s used to collaborate to create a shared labour pool:

We had a circle of people that used to work on my patch and then they would work somewhere else … that was quite fun, it lasted a few years [laughs] it was like a labour pool. … It got you out of your own place … it was quite good. I mean that does happen in other areas, I think when you have a concentration…my wife comes from Northumberland, well there might be an organic farmer there but the next ones going to be fifty or sixty miles away, where as here they might be five or six miles away.

Guy Watson, also recalls something similar from one of his mentors, another

small-scale organic grower called Gordon Strutt:

But I think the thing was here, whereas there they would have been absolute isolation here you know, there was a kind of a bit of a following. He [Gordon] had a few people who would come out and so sort of help.

Such support is not always directly on ‘the land.’ For example, Higher Sharpham

Farm has been cross-subsidised by a family camp first held during a solar eclipse

of 1999. This has continued since and is now run with the support of a group of

volunteers. It has become a significant factor in sustaining the farm:

…the reason we are in profit is because this carrying group of five people who have organised the camp have carried on doing that since Richard died because they want to see the farm continue bio-dynamically so they all do it on a voluntary basis which means a colossal amount of work

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from about October onwards until the camp in August and that generates enough money to pay the rent for the farm and without the camp it wouldn’t really be viable.

Judy Smith [28]

Thus many of the small-scale agricultural projects combine voluntary support

with a range of income generating techniques. For example it is also evident that

a large number of institutions and organisations in the area generate income

through training and education, and even more specifically what Gibson-Graham

(2008, 618) call ‘ethical practice’ – the processes of ‘The co-implicated

processes of changing ourselves / changing our thinking / changing the world’.

Indeed for many, providing education in ‘self-artistry’ is a key strand of their

economic survival. For example, within the organic marketscape Landmatters

arrange training courses and host visits. Christian Taylor has also set up an

educational venture (RAISE) that overlaps with the CSF and his own site. 63

Indeed many wider Countercultural initiatives in the area generate income

through didactic activities, something that has been noted of other experiments in

marginal settlement (Halfacree 2001) 64

Another income generating strategy is to earn wages from outside occupations to

support the agricultural activity. State benefits can also be vital whilst also

undertaking small-scale production. Finally, a more radical strategy involves

reducing day-to-day living costs by residing on the land and construct neo-

peasant lifestyles. Ruth and Toby Chadwick deliberately moved onto their land

without permission in an attempt to reduce their costs of living [13]. Similarly,

the permaculture inspired Landmatters community is an explicit attempt to show

the viability of low impact living (see figure 7.5)

63 See http://www.raise-education.co.uk/ last accessed 18/01/2010. 64 There are a number of institutions in the area that do this in one way or another. Examples would include Schumacher College, the various Buddhist centres, the Agroforestry Research Trust etc. There are also various CAM training courses (see interview 32). Transition Town Totnes has also launched a training arm to both spread the transition model and generate income.

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Figure 7.5: Landmatters permaculture community

To some extent this strategy reflects a shift away from exchange value towards

use value and reducing the need for financial capital to support day-to-day

mundane consumption. However, as Landmatters have found, production for

use-value (collecting wood and water, growing food) is time consuming and

physically draining [60]. This reduces both the time and energy to develop

exchange value based activities that can generate income, which is still necessary

albeit at reduced levels from ‘conventional’ lifestyles. Therefore whilst low

impact living provides a mechanism to bypass certain monetised circuits of

consumption, it did not appear to be a sufficient factor in itself to enable

livelihoods to be easily constructed, as Sage (2003, 52) has noted of the original

wave of back-to-the-landers in West Ireland. Again, the benefits of the locality

do not mitigate documented difficulties of going ‘back to the land’ (Edgington

2008).

7.2.4 Summary: A fragmented marketscape

This chapter has sought to explore three significant areas of the organic food

marketscape around the Totnes area, one of the most significant and visible areas

of postcapitalist practice in the area. One of the main arguments that emerges

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from the research is that there is little coherence within the organic food

marketscape around Totnes. Discourses of economic localisation and organic

production have circulated within the Totnes area since the mid 1970s. Yet the

institutions that have emerged during this period do not link up and create new

economic circuits in ways that the proponents of localisation might hope that

they would, or indeed in the way that they appear to at first sight. Despite its

prevalence and visibility, the organic marketscape does not reflect and idealised

form of local food economy. Figure 7.6 is a schematic this illustrates the ways in

which the different elements of the organic marketscape (don’t particularly)

overlap.

Figure 7.6: The fragmentation of the local organic food marketscape Even in an area where there is established, localised demand for organic produce,

there is an asymmetry with local production. Riverford Organics overcame this

problem by transcending the south Devon market and then developing its own

distribution channels via its box scheme. It is now trying to construct a business

model around a scale that equates the regional with the ‘local’. Smaller

initiatives, which have more geographically restricted imaginaries of the local

have struggled for economic viability. In this sense, the localised countercultural

milieu does not seem to enable more radical postcapitalist experiments to

overcome diseconomies of scale and make them any more economically

significant. However, the milieu underpins their existence through a range of

other support mechanisms. Like other attempts to create localised alternative

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economic spaces, the more radical examples appear to be constrained by forces

and actors that are acting beyond their immediate scale (North 2005). This

research also suggests that the expansion of postcapitalist institutions can itself

be problematic, bringing with it exposure to pressures and tendencies. Indeed, by

breaking down postcapitalism in this way it becomes clear that different

institutions compete and conflict with each other. In particular the expansion of

social markets may undermine other forms of postcapitalist institutions such as

independent retailers and non-market alternatives. Just like ‘capitalism’,

postcapitalism does not reflect a homogenous and even space. Postcapitalism is

not only fractured and dynamic but there is evidence of conflict between

different aspects of postcapitalism which is unacknowledged in much of the

literature. This is obviously of significance for those who seek to build

alternative economic spaces.

7.3 Conclusions – the limits of proliferative postcapitalism This chapter has provided an overview of the postcapitalist institutional economy

around the Totnes area with a more detailed exploration of the organic food

marketscape. The chapter has argued that the postcapitalist economy around

Totnes does not reflect a particularly radical economic institutional space despite

efforts develop more radical initiatives. There is also a general lack of coherence,

reflecting instances or aspects of postcapitalism rather than a coherent space. If

the Totnes area does reflect an example of postcapitalism it is one that exists on

the fringes of the capitalist market economy rather than a more radical space

beyond it.

As this chapter has illustrated, those aspects of postcapitalism that are now the

most economically significant are those that are most entwined with capitalist

processes. Attempts to build non-market circuits of value have generally failed

and it is the market-based businesses that have been able to create livelihoods, in

the case of Riverford Organics to a considerable extent. The most significant

aspects of postcapitalism in the Totnes area are therefore perhaps best

characterised as forms of ‘local’, ‘ethical’ or ‘green’ capitalism. Those elements

that are most economically significant are not ‘alternative’ in any strong sense

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because they are effectively satisfying rational consumers (Watts et al. 2005). To

some extent this reflects a form of (counter) cultural enclave economy that meets

the needs of primarily middle-class milieu reminiscent of Brook’s (2000) North

American ‘Latte Towns’. Indeed, it has been suggested that the processes of

‘competitive localism’ may actually have prevented more radical postcapitalist

possibility from emerging.

In summary, Totnes does not provide a strong example of proliferative

postcapitalism ‘in action’ and instead raises questions about both the potential of

interstitial approaches to economic change and, more specifically, Gibson-

Graham’s ‘weak theoretical’ approach. Understanding the success and failure of

these institutions can only be made with reference to wider structure and

processes. The case study suggests that institutional embeddedness is a more

significant determinant of possibility that the localised socio-cultural

embeddedness of the milieu. The favourable conditions provided by the latter

were not sufficient to overcome the barriers created by the former. Accepting the

existence of such institutions processes does not mean accepting their

inevitability or immutability. However, it is argued here that failing to

acknowledge such barriers (‘refusing to know too much’ in Gibson-Graham’s

terms) is itself as much a barrier to postcapitalist possibility as adopting a rigidly

structuralist economic ontology. The data suggest that an emergent approach to

postcapitalism which focuses solely on local development will fall into the ‘local

trap’ that assumes that the place based level is the best scale at which to effect

positive change (Brown and Purcell 2005). Instead, any such strategy needs to

address the regulatory and wider institutional structure in which postcapitalist

experiments operate (Magnusson 2008).

For example, this chapter has illustrated that regulatory regimes plays a key role

in creating postcapitalist possibility through the way it regulates building and

land usage. The resistance of such regimes can be part of the process of

transforming them, as in the case of Landmatters who initially occupied their

land without planning permission and then won a potentially precedent changing

appeal. However, it seems likely that a strategy of contentious politics that seeks

to unsettle and transform regulatory regimes needs to operate on multiple scales

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and sites and with a range of tactics. One popular argument for grassroots

movements and small-scale experiments is that they provide tangible,

prefigurative examples of alternative futures (Fournier 2002). However, it might

also be argued that their continuing struggle and ‘failure’ within a hostile socio-

political context actually undermines the potential for their wider adoption

because it adds weight to the argument that these kinds of thing ‘just don’t

work’. Recognising that postcapitalist experiments will not fully prosper until a

different set of ‘conditions of possibility’ can be developed focuses activism not

solely on the experiments themselves, but also on the wider context in which

they operate. The economic vulnerability of the small scale organic producers

within this case study resonates with Jacob’s (1997) study of the North American

back to the land movement, which he describe as ‘overcommitted and

underfunded’. Consequently, he argues for wider ‘systemic’ regulatory changes

to support them. Similarly, Guthman’s (2004) exploration of the transformation

of organic agriculture in California concludes that ‘only the state has the capacity

to unlock some of the mechanisms of agricultural intensification’. For example,

it was legislative innovation which first empowered direct organic sales in

California leading to the expansion of direct sales and organic AFIs (Starr 2000).

Hess (2009, 225 - 7) also argues that both land-use policy and taxation regimes

are powerful mechanisms to support independent and non-profit businesses.

This research therefore supports the critique that interstitial strategies tend to

under-theorise the role of the state, a critique that has been made of Gibson-

Graham directly (Kelly 2005). It suggests that proliferative postcapitalist

strategies need to combine grassroots activism with other strategies to reform

aspects of the wider institutional structure (Wright 2010). The notion of

‘transitional demands’ – policy reforms which seem political feasible but which

act as a trigger for wider systemic changes might therefore be an approach which

can complement the interstitial (Wall 2005, 117). Indeed it is notable that their

own action research to build diverse economies has involved engaging statutory

authorities and recognises the role that academics can play in encouraging policy

changes which enable community and social economies to develop (CEC and

Gibson 2009). In the context of supporting grassroots postcapitalism in rural

areas there are a number of institutional reforms that could support such

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postcapitalist experimentation, most obviously reform of the planning system.

However, policies that challenge the commodification of land are also possible

candidates as ‘transitional demands’ such as policy support for Community Land

Trusts (Pickerill and Maxey 2009, 73) or Land Valuation Taxes (Scott Cato

2009, ch 12). Developing new forms of ‘commons’ are also a possible strategy

(Donahue 1999). Furthermore, if contemporary experiments in low impact living

are to avoid the failures of the past then more attention needs to be paid to

mechanism of generating sufficient economic surplus.

This leads to another area where there is need for more extensive theoretical

development: ‘postcapitalist’ circuits of value. The research concurs with the

critique that a significant lacunae in Gibson-Graham’s theorisation of capitalism

is the lack of engagement with the financial and monetary systems (Tonkiss

2008). Gibson-Graham’s (2006a, 90) post-structural approach seeks to identify ‘a

range of economic practices that are not subsumed to capital flows’. However,

this chapter has argued that building postcapitalist institutions inevitably

necessitates flows of financial capital. As Tainter (1988, 91) has argued

Human societies and political organizations, like all living systems, are maintained by a continuous flow of energy. From the simplest familial units to the most complex regional hierarchy, the institutions and patterned interactions that comprise a human society are dependent on energy.

Within a ‘capitalist’ such energy flows predominately through monetary circuits

of value. This suggests that of their four co-ordinates of community economies,

surplus is the most significant. Wall (2005, 164) suggests that ‘without surplus,

communism would simply be the sharing of poverty’. Without a surplus there

can be no discussion about needs, commons, or consumption. None of the more

radical experiments have found ways of generating other forms of ‘social’

surplus that can act as a substitute for financial surplus. Some (such as the CSAs

and local currencies) have attempted to construct new localised financial circuits

but none have endured. Contrastingly, those businesses that have managed to

generate sufficient surplus have done so through engaging in market-based

activity and, in the case of Riverford, transcending the immediate locality.

However, this chapter has illustrated that even engagement in what some would

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class as ‘social’ markets appears to expose institutions to ‘capitalist’ tendencies

and processes that blur postcapitalist boundaries. Indeed it is not clear whether

social markets can actually be considered as ‘postcapitalist’ or indeed if they can

be clearly empirically delineated. If all markets are ‘capitalist’ then getting

outside capitalism would appear to be more difficult that Gibson-Graham

suggest.

The monetary system is often central to institutional models of capitalism (e.g.

Ingham 2008; Magnusson 2008) and this case study suggests that this is another

area where there is a need for wider ‘systemic’ theorisation. Gibson-Graham’s

attempt to develop an ‘anti-capitalocentric’ development strategy falters from

this perspective unless ‘non-capitalist’ capital flows can be more clearly

identified and developed. This also again brings back attention to the role of the

state and its redistributive role in supporting social economy initiatives (Wright

2010). Therefore this research concurs with those theorists who would argue that

building postcapitalist economies requires a more theoretical engagement with

the monetary system and how it supports or undermines postcapitalist possibility

(Mellor 2005). In particular, the argument that the development of localised

economic institutions require access to financial capital (Hess 2009, Ch 8).

Indeed, with reference to Mondragón, Gibson-Graham’s ‘model’ community

economy, it has been argued that one of the central features that makes the co-

operatives viable is the existence of the Caja Laboral Popular, the co-operative

bank which is integral to the development and financing of new co-operatives

(Sperry 1985). The research suggests that such circuits are a critical element of

both the sustainability of postcapitalist institutions. As Frankel (1987, 13) has

argued ‘moral exhortation is not enough, if radicals cannot answer the serious

questions as to feasibility, organisation and finance’.

Overall, Riverford excepted, it would be hard to argue that the postcapitalist

practices discussed in this chapter have had a significant economic impact. This

highlights the dangers of uncritical ‘readings’ and the way in which

‘emancipatory’ discourses (such as ‘reading’ for postcapitalism) can distort in

the same was as oppressive ones. Table 7.1 constructs a picture that is, to some

extent, a mirage, certainly at the more radical end of experimentation. Whilst

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there is no doubt that the area does exhibit an unusual density of postcapitalist

experimentation, ultimately its economic impact is limited. However, returning

to a theme of the previous chapter, it could be argued that collectively these

economic institutions do have a significant impact on the reputation and

imaginaries of the area. The co-existence of the independent and ‘alternative’

shops, AFIs, organic growers, community enterprises, NGOs contribute to

Countercultural sense(s) of place. The co-existence and visible materiality of

these institutions within the area reinforces the ‘place myths’ of its role as a

vibrant ‘alternative’ centre where alternative futures can be enacted (e.g. BBC

2009). As discussed in the last chapter, such institutions and reputations play a

role within the ongoing reconstitution of the localised milieu. As this chapter has

illustrated, to some extent these imageries obscure both the economic fragility

and disconnectedness of the different elements of postcapitalist practice.

However, these Secondspace interpretations have an important material impact –

not only on the place making processes but also on its role as a site of social

experimentation. This chapter has argued that being a Countercultural place does

not make localised (radical) grassroots postcapitalist experimentation any more

economically viable. However, being a Countercultural place does seem to

support wider processes of social innovation and this is something that is

explored in more depth in the next chapter.

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Chapter 8: Spaces of Social Innovation

Chapter Seven argued that the postcapitalism that has emerged around Totnes

does not particularly support Gibson-Graham’s theoretical approach to

proliferative postcapitalism or their ‘weak’ economic ontology. Instead, the data

supported arguments that an understanding of, and attention to, wider

institutional reform is a necessary pre-requisite for postcapitalist proliferation if

an interstitial strategy is going to be pursued. Putting that argument to one side,

this chapter seeks to use the case study to explore in more detail the relationship

between a countercultural place and postcapitalist institution building by

addressing the third research question: Does being a site of countercultural

activity make it more possible to build postcapitalist institutions? What are the

implications for theories of interstitial postcapitalism? At first sight the answer

to the first part of the question would be appear to be negative. However, the data

point to a more complex picture, one that is explored in this chapter. It argues

that the data points to an intriguing paradox: they suggest that countercultural

places can function as sites of social innovation and experimentation. However

the very factors that support such innovation also appear to undermine their

ability to build localised, collective institutions. Irrespective of the underlying

economic ontology, this has implications for the development of collective place

based economic institutions, including implications for Gibson-Graham’s own

theorising of how community economies can be constructed.

Part One of this chapter draws on the empirical data to argue that Totnes has

been a site of social innovation, suggesting that ‘social entrepreneurs’ have been

a necessary part of this process. Part Two then explores the key spaces that such

entrepreneurs have inhabited and exploited. However, Part Three explores how

some of the selfsame factors that create the space for social innovation can also

create conflict that undermines the ability for collective entities to be developed.

In conclusion, this case study suggests that building community economies

requires more focus on understanding and managing processes of conflict than

might normally be the case in the literature which advocates ‘community’ based

forms of economic development.

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8.1 Social innovation and the role of ‘insurgent architects’

Social innovation can be understood as

Innovative activities and services that are motivated by the goal of meeting a social need and that are predominately diffused through organizations whose primary purposes are social

Mulgan (2006, 146)

Mulgan points out that much social innovation starts as radical innovation and

that it often occurs outside conventional sites of innovation in the ‘margins’. For

example, Coates (2001, 303) points to the role that utopian communities have

played as sites of social innovation including the modern education system,

‘rational dress’, the Town and Country Planning system and social work. To

some extent the Dartington experiment supports Coates’ argument, being the site

of numerous experiments and innovations. Indeed Michael Young – the person

who coined the phrase ‘social entrepreneur’ – had lifelong links with Dartington.

Not only is he regarded as one of the pre-eminent social entrepreneurs of the

twentieth century but he also used Dartington as a vehicle for some of his

innovation (Briggs 2001). Social innovation reflects a form of hidden innovation

(NESTA 2007). In general the geography of social innovation appears to be

fairly under-researched, although for a recent exception see the edition of

European Urban and Regional Studies edited by Mouleaert et al. (2007) that

looks at the interaction between processes of social innovation and urban regime

formation albeit using a slightly different definition of social innovation (see also

Mouleaert et al. 2005).

Whist there appears to be little research on the geography of social innovation,

there are some indicators of a relationship between countercultural places and

processes of innovation. For example, speaking of Western Ireland, MacBain

(1995) suggests that someone should ‘write a thesis’ about the relationship

between ‘blow-ins’ and local community initiatives. Similarly Kockel (1999)

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links countercultural immigrants with forms of entrepreneurship. There is other

evidence that innovation occurs in areas that have strongly developed

countercultural milieus, such as the emergence of biotechnology in the Bay area

of California (Vettel 2006). The way in which the Counterculture supported the

emergence of personal computing and the Internet has also been researched

(Turner 2005). As noted in Chapter 3, Florida’s (2002) work also makes a link

between bohemianism and processes of innovation. As bohemianism is a

counterculture that is particularly linked to artistic creativity it is therefore not

surprising the places with density of artists might also be creative sites in a more

broad sense. Indeed, Totnes itself, despite its small size, has been indentified as a

‘creative industries’ hotspot (Perfect Moment 2006). Thus there are several

reasons why one might expect Countercultural sites to be sites of social

innovation, not least because innovation, like countercultures, originate with

some kind of ‘problem framing’ (Rogers 2003, 137). In particular, the various

strands of Alternative Pathways are closely linked with processes of innovation

(Hess 2007). Table 8.1 highlights some of the key social innovations that have

connections with the Totnes area.

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Innovation Year Significance

Totnes Natural Health Centre

1978 Totnes Natural Health Centre was one of the first Natural Health Centreʼs in the UK. It offered a range of complementary therapies and self-help techniques which have since become part of mainstream healthcare provision.

Devon Organic Growers

1978 The Devon Organic Growers modeled themselves on the Swiss Community Supported Agriculture schemes. This was a very early example of experimentation with CSA in the UK over 10 years before CSA is generally regarded to have reached the UK.

Alexander Technique Training School

1979 At the time of its opening the Alexander Technique Training school was one of only a handful in the UK and the only one outside a major city. This is another example of a therapeutic technique which has since been absorbed into mainstream provision.

LETS c1986 Totnes was one of the first places to experiment with LETS. One of the local activists developed computer software which, for several years, formed the basis of the software which was rolled out. Another wrote a book which (Dauncey 1988) which was significant in popularising LETS in the UK.

Briarpatch 1980 Briarpatch was an ʻhonest businessʼ network which helped to popularise the idea of a ʻright livelihoodʼ which was imported from the Bay Area of San Francisco via connections for Dartington. What is believed to be the only Briarpatch in the UK was run from Totnes for a while and a Dartington based business featured in a book about ʻHonest Businessʼ values (Phillips and Raspberry 1981). The network didnʼt survive but predated the mainstreaming of business networking and also influenced the values of several local businesses.

Permaculture mid- 1980s onwards

Activists in Totnes were instrumental in popularising permaculture within the UK. The UK Permaculture Association was based in the area for several years. The Agroforesty Research Trust is still based locally and regarded as an important Permaculture research institution.

Cowshare c1990 This was another CSA model which predated the general arrival of CSA in the UK. It developed an innovative finance model which enabled local investors to invest in the herd of biodynamic cows in exchange for a share of produce (see table 7.2).

TILT 1989 - 1996 TILT was a grassroots attempt to create financial support for small businesses and social economy initiatives before the concept of social economy was in general circulation. It was somewhat ahead of its time and also developed a unique legal structure to enable local development.

Landmatters 2007 (award of planning

permission)

Although Landmatters (as a low impact community) is not particularly innovative in itself, its contribution in winning temporary planning permission based on its environmental footprint may be a significant step forward for similar projects. Members of Landmatters are also involved in developing new financial models to enable similar developments to take place (LINK to Ecological Land Co-operative).

Transition Town Totnes

2006 onwards

The Transition Towns movement is a good example of an initiative which has replicated elsewhere both in the UK and beyond whilst also having a discursive effect and translating into other institutional contexts (see Bailey et al 2009).

Table 8.1: Social innovation and experimentation around the Totnes area

# #

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This table is not exhaustive; in particular it does not contain much of the social

innovation of Dartington itself that could form another table, if not thesis. What

is notable about Table 8.1 is that many of these innovations did not actually

originate in the area. Chapter Six highlighted the way in which certain

institutions (such as Dartington) have connected the Totnes area to a range of

other geographically distant places. Such connections have allowed the creation

of ‘social movement space’ (Nicholls 2009) through which innovations and ideas

have travelled. Such space facilitated the arrival of many of the postcapitalist

ideas that were pioneered in the area. Thus LETS and Briarpatch were both ideas

that originally came from North America both arriving in the area through visits

to the area from key progenitors. Permaculture reached south Devon via some

Totnesians who attended a training course in the South of France with Emilia

Hazelip, a member of the 1960s Countercultural ‘Merry Pranksters’ (see Wolfe

1968). Indeed many of the innovations pioneered by Dartington were ideas that

they imported from elsewhere, such as artificial cattle insemination. The area can

therefore be characterised as a site of early adoption or even translation, a

concept developed by Michael Serres that reflects how ideas change as they

move across space and time (Czarniawska and Sevon 2005). Whether or not the

Totnes area has been the original site of innovation, there are examples of further

diffusion of innovation from Totnes. For example, a ‘garden share’ scheme first

developed as part of the Transition Town Totnes scheme has been scaled up to a

national Landshare scheme.65 Figure 8.1 also describes the translation and

diffusion of the Totnes Pound.

65 See http://www.landshare.net/ last accessed 25/07/2010

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Figure 8.1: The translation and diffusion of the Totnes Pound currency

Another example of localised diffusion of a social innovation is the practice of

home birth. When the Totnes Birth Centre that started promoting home births in

1982 it was in the face of severe opposition from the local health authorities [21].

The area now has one of the highest home birth rates in the country and the local

NHS Trust now boasts of its expertise in this area.

Mulgan (2006) argues that social innovation requires both a social innovator and

a propitious environment. Whilst the notion of the heroic individual entrepreneur

has been somewhat critiqued within innovation studies (e.g. Tuomi 2002) the

research from the field does indicate the importance of what Harvey (2000) calls

‘insurgent architects’ in the creation of grassroots economic and social

institutions. However, the research suggests that a number of successful social

entrepreneurs have been able to exploit the favourable context to launch projects.

In the sphere of ‘alternative’ economics, one of the most significant innovators

was Andy Langford. In fact, as the diagram overleaf indicates, he is connected in

one way or another to much of the pioneering activity discussed in this thesis,

sometimes in collaboration with another influential social entrepreneur Norman

Duncan.

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As Mark Beeson put it:

I suppose if you were writing a biography of Andy you would get more threads than if you wrote a biography of anybody else in the area

Mark Beeson [37]

Figure 8.1 below highlights some of the key influences that he and Norman

Duncan have had, which can be traced through to the present. Such social

entrepreneurs seem to fulfil a number of functions within the development of

new initiatives. Firstly, they play an important role in the ‘voicing’ of alternative

ideas and values. Amin et al (2002) suggested that the presence of such ‘voiced’

minority cultures was an important factor in the development of social economic

activities. In Totnes, some interviewees made reference to such vocalization, for

example, Vicky and Michael Evans speaking of Pat Kitto, founder of the Natural

Health Centre:

Vicky: And Pat [Kitto] she was very alternative. And they were all very strong CND people. That kind…there was a strong element of rebellion Michael: In Totnes…they were quite vocal but on the other hand there weren’t a huge number of people but they were vocal…

There were a number of discursive spaces which Pat Kitto’s used to spread her

views: The Dartington Hall News, letter writing in the Totnes Times as well as

through the courses and talks she put on around Totnes and Dartington. Rob

Hopkins also stresses the relationship between being vocal and the expression of

alternative ideas:

I think Totnes can be seen to be a very, very alternative town because the alternative sides of it are very visible and are much more vocal, and if you come here visiting you walk up the high street you see all of that.

Rob Hopkins, [5]

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Figure 8.2: Influence of Andy Langford

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The data also suggest the importance of personal qualities in inspiring people to

see the world differently, perhaps best understood in terms of charismatic

leadership. Mulgan (2006, 153) argues that social entrepreneurs

need to capture the imagination of a community of supporters through the combination of contagious courage and pragmatic persistence

This quality is evident in some of the examples already discussed, for example

Richard Smith’s influence on spreading ideas about biodynamic farming and

anthroposophy was an inspiration in the opening of a failed Community

Supported Agriculture shop [20]. Another community activist also talked about

the ‘amazing talks’ of Richard, as well as the more general need for leadership in

community initiatives:

I think it really helps definitely to have someone with some dynamic charisma but it shouldn’t need that … if everyone’s got the need to have that facility then it shouldn’t matter who it is really

Marcea Colley [23]

In the case of Andy Langford, Alison Hastie describes him as a ‘great starter of

things around Totnes’ [8]. Mark Beeson also talks about the intellectual

inspiration that he drew from Andy Langford:

Why Andy had such a huge influence on me was because he talked about this area in terms of business. He…had a business model on how it would reclaim its own politics and its own artistic traditions and he used the model of Conker as that sort of thing…whereas other people just talked about Devon being a beautiful tourist destination Andy talked about it as somewhere that should have its own political power, its own economic power and give opportunities to people on the same level as somewhere like London and to me that was something that I found extraordinarily inspiring back in those days. I still believe in it.

Mark Beeson [37]

As noted in Chapter Seven, Andy Langford was also an influence on Guy

Watson and the subsequent business ethics of Riverford Organics. Similarly,

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Mike Freeman talks about how Andy inspired him to instigate the Riverside self-

build project in the early 1980s:

I got involved in a big housing project really as a direct result of Andy Langford. I always felt competitive with Andy. We competed for the same girlfriends. And Andy started a very good project to build some flats…the Old School flats. And I thought that was a great project and I thought I’d like to do something not dissimilar.

Mike Freeman [24]

Finally, Prem Ash describes how he ‘spurred them all’ on to get involved in

different projects and agreed that charisma was ‘very important’, comparing

Andy to Rob Hopkins:

I was really pleased to see Rob turning up because I don’t know him but I’m sure he must be like that [like Andy] he must be charismatic, he must be motivating people right, left and centre

Prem Ash [37]

This comparison with Rob Hopkins is an interesting one, as he also featured in

several of the interviews as a ‘leader’ within the area:

Rob Hopkins has been a tremendous influence. Yeah, he has been a catalyst, there again I’d like to say that when I read his Kinsale report, first heard of it, I jumped on it right away, you know, and this was, I was one of, you know Rob’s very early disciples….and I got it from it from him, I got a copy of it and read it and I said ‘This is absolute sense’ you know? ‘This is the future.’ It fitted in with my views completely.

John Watson [9]

It is interesting that this was not the only example of the usage of a religious

metaphor (‘disciples’) when discussing the influence of Rob Hopkins:

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…its so refreshing to Rob coming in, in the body of the church instead of the middle class, plush organisation which Dartington used to be

Tom Welch [7]

And

I think where Rob Hopkins is concerned he’s got this intuitive, its very Gandhi like…he understands the psyche of people, he understands the psychology of fear, the psychology of change and fear of change and he’s addressed it.

Alan Langmaid [10]

These interview quotes suggest that the personal qualities of those who are

advocating a different way of seeing the world are also important. In other words

then, it is not just ideas that people need to believe in, but the people themselves,

and certain individuals might be more effective in persuading people to change

their perspective. Motivating people and encouraging processes of ‘reframing’ is

therefore an active process that depends, to some extent, on the qualities of the

advocate. Or to put it in post-structural terms, whilst discourse can be regarded as

performative, the attributes of the ‘performer’ also matter. Reflecting on the

processes of building interstitial economic institutions this highlights a potential

gap in Gibson-Graham’s theory of building community economies. They do not

explicitly address the question of who should be leading this processes if not

academic researchers. Their work does not therefore recognise that individual

characteristics such as charisma might be necessary to inspire collective action or

ontological ‘reframing’. Certainly, in the case of economic institutions such as

local currencies there is some evidence that local leadership is important (North

2010a). The data suggest that such leadership might be an important factor in

processes of subject formation and prevent experiments from ‘withering away’ in

the way experienced by Gibson-Graham (2002). Furthermore, as already

previously noted their work does not also explore the factors that may make

certain sites more productive for experimentation, something that is explored in

the next section.

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8.2 Spaces of Experimentation

This section suggests that there are a number of spaces within the area that social

entrepreneurs are able to inhabit, and that each of these spaces is in some way a

product of the specific local context. This research does not suggest that any of

these should be privileged, but instead argues that they combine to produce the

Thirdspaces of social innovators – the real lived spaces of experimentation. This

conception of Thirdspace extends and interprets Soja’s concepts in a particular

way, noting that as he himself acknowledges, Lefevbre’s original work is open to

multiple interpretations (Soja 1996). In particular it seeks to broaden the notion

of Secondspace to encompass what is known or believed about a place. Such

spatial imaginaries are a significant part of the lived experience of many

innovators. The data suggest that the there is an ongoing interplay between First,

Second and Thirdspace in which their manifestations of each ‘kind’ of space

creates and reshapes the other forms.

8.2.1 Firstspaces

Within this thesis, Firstspace is being used to refer to ‘materialised, empirical’

space that can be perceived (Soja 1996, 66). This thesis has highlighted a number

of ways in which the existence of such physical Firstspace has supported the

development of Countercultural practices and social innovation. The thesis has

illustrated how the existence of both Dartington and Sharpham has (and

continues) to play an important role in providing sites and buildings for

Countercultural practice. Furthermore, the wealth of the Elmhirsts and other

Dartington families has supported the development of other sites. 66 The

provision of other Firstspaces has depended on the social capital generated by the

Countercultural millieu. For example, the early Permaculture training took place

on land at Venton Mill that was leased on a peppercorn rent from a local

supporter [7, 12b]. The Totnes Women’s Centre also obtained premises from a

66 For example Birdwood House and the Totnes Natural Health Centre have both been important spaces of social innovation.

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supporter [40]. Similarly, The Watson brothers were able to start their businesses

on land already rented by the family [9, 22, 42].

Local entrepreneurs have also benefited from ‘marginal’ economic Firstspaces. A

number of the interviewed businesses started trading on the Totnes markets

before moving into premises or expanding. Both Hood Faire and the market at

the Cider Press provided a similar outlet for small businesses in the late 1970s.

Conker sold their first products at these, as did the early co-operative of local

organic growers. The availability of inexpensive retail premises was also an

important factor in the development of the ‘first wave’ of Countercultural

businesses such as Conker, Sacks and Green Shoes. Indeed Conker and Sacks

both began in the Narrows, as noted in Chapter 7, an area of particularly small

(and at that time cheap) retail premises. A second advantage of the availability of

small premises is that businesses have been able to relocate locally as their space

requirements have changed. Several interviewed retail businesses have occupied

different premises during their existence in Totnes. Indeed a particularly small

premises, 10 High Street, was at different point occupied by Paperworks

(recycled paper goods), Nutshell Paints (ecological paint) and by Green Shoes

who then all moved onto larger premises.

These low cost sites and spaces could be considered as the kind of economic

margin that is sometimes portrayed as the locus of ‘alternative’ economic

experimentation (Hardy 1986). It is therefore evident that the economic

tendencies which have shaped Totnes during the last twenty years (and its

evolution into an ‘alternative centre’) have to some degree led to the

undermining of such economic spaces, such as the increase in rates and rents.

The role of economic margins in providing cheap creative space is of course

implicated of consumption side theories of gentrification (e.g. Jacobs [1961]

1993). However, these wider economic tendencies have also created new sites of

experimentation. The breaking up of farms and the selling off of land and

property has enabled the purchasing of sites for Community Supported Farming

discussed in Chapter Seven. However, rising land prices over recent years have

made such purchases increasingly difficult [46].

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8.2.2 Secondspaces

In Soja’s (1996, 79) trialectic of spatiality the concept of Secondspace is

…entirely ideatational, made up of projections into the empirical from conceived or imagined geographies.

This thesis has sought to stretch the idea of Secondspace in two ways. Firstly it

has highlighted the way in which “starchitects”, poets and artists are not the only

source of Secondspaces imaginaries. In exploring the emergence of “Alternative”

Totnes it has highlighted the way in which ‘lay’ place images that contradict and

dominate other ‘official’ Secondspace imaginaries can emerge. The role of the

media in constructing and reproducing these Secondspace imaginaries has also

been highlighted. This thesis has also argued that in themselves these semiotic

representations of place can have a material impact: That Secondspace

imaginaries reflect ‘place images’ which have a tangible effect on both the

‘material’ (Firstspace) and the ‘lived’ (Thirdspace).

As noted above, here the concept of Secondspace is being extended to

encompass not just what one conceives but also what one knows about a given

space. This would encompass how one ‘reads’ the materiality and practices of

the Totnes area. Thus Secondspace can also be conceived of as reflecting the

spatial imaginaries of places (Wolford 2004). Therefore a subject who is

embroiled in different Countercultural networks and aware of aspects of the

Countercultural milieu will – through their own imaginative Secondspace – live

in a unique ‘alternative’ Thirdspace within the Totnes locality. A subject who

does not read certain symbolic meanings into the locality will therefore occupy a

different, subjective ‘interpretive locale’ (Soja 1996) and therefore a very

different lived Thirdspace. One important set of imaginaries are utopian

conceptions of the landscape and Totnes townscape. Chapter 6 highlighted the

way in which the landscape has acted as a significant migratory driver. However,

it has also acted as an inspiration. For example, Bob Jelfs [55] felt that people

were ‘inspired’ by the countryside whilst Alison Hastie [8] suggested that their

work was connected to the local landscape:

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I feel our work has bedded into the local area, it comes from it as we do, so now after 30 years there is an almost seamless link between Green Shoes and Devon in all its facets….where else is work like this happening?

Norman Duncan, a social innovator from the mid 1980s puts it another way,

echoing Leonard Elmhirst:

Then in the environment, it’s such a lovely environment. You know, it’s like living in a fairytale. Just the landscape, Dartington, the Dart, its just its ‘Ow, the world can be better!’ The landscape gives you that kind of feeling, a breath of fresh air, it can be contained…Totnes is a nice contained little package, but with open views of the Dart and Dartmoor and all these lovely things, so there’s that.

Norman Duncan [31]

As well as the importance of the inspirational ‘readings’ of the natural landscape,

interpretations of the ‘beauty’ of Totnes were also seen as important by some,

having its own utopian aesthetic. Several interviewees mentioned this, for

example describing Totnes as a ‘beautiful mediaeval hill town’ [8] or that it is

…beautiful and manageable size and… I mean the setting is inspiring…the surrounding country the fact that you can see something green just about anywhere

Bob Mann [26]

Similarly, Rob Hopkins, after discussing the inspiring nature of the ‘urban fabric’

goes to suggest

It’s a beautiful place you know…and it’s a town that actually…there’s not that many towns where you can stand in the high street and you can see the fields around the town’.

It seems that the natural beauty acts as a form of utopian inspiration for those

who have been involved in social innovation. In part this appears to be because

people find the landscapes uplifting in a spiritual sense. However, it is also the

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case that to some extent the area is also imagined and interpreted as site of

possibility and utopianism. Some element of this imaginary seems to relate to

utopian readings of the local landscape. For example it is interesting to contrast

Satish Kumar’s interpretation of Dartmoor as a deserted ‘spiritual’ and ‘natural’

place (BBC 2008) with others that highlight the longstanding influence of

industry and human activity, including the impact of 10 million day visitors per

year (Griffiths 1996).

Figure 8.3: View from Natures Round small holding

Certain Secondspace imaginaries are rooted in countercultural epistemologies,

such as those based on geomancy. Here, it is believed that the presence of

particular earth energies is the reason that certain practices have flourished in the

area. Richard Smith, a key figure in the local anthroposophical community until

his recent death was an important figure in articulating such discourses. They are,

he suggested, the reason that the reason that the Totnes / Dartington area has

fostered a

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wealth of activities; healers and therapists, artists, craftsmen, educators and musicians abound…One can begin to see how the Totnes – Dartington area is fed by the pure waters off the hills as well as the mighty surges from the sea. In this area that we call the heart sphere of the landscape much has already arisen and much can still arise.

Smith and Cooper (2006, 8)

Smith builds his case on the legend of Brutus of Troy who, according to

Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Britonum landed at Totnes to found Great

Britain, a popular local myth which is used to reinforce the idea that it is a

‘special’ place. 67 He also challenges the conventional etymology of Totnes:

suggesting that it does not mean fort or look (Tot-) out on a ridge of land (-naess,

see for example Mann 2007) but relates to the fact that ‘Tot’ can also mean

‘sacred mound’, thus arguing that there are druidic roots within the area (Smith

and Cooper 2006). Such lay narratives therefore shape local Secondspace

imaginaries. For example, Ruth and Toby Chadwick discuss the way in which

‘elementals’ may have played a role in the development of the Steiner School

and Riverford in the Dart Valley:

Ruth: People say the river, the elementals are very alive along the river don’t they? ‘Cause Riverford as well…its amazing that Riverford and the [Steiner] School…you know are close together I mean whatever kind of a business Riverford has become it is organic Toby: It’s certainly been a very powerful force for putting on the agenda hasn’t it? Ruth: Yeah…It [shows it] can work

Ruth and Toby Chadwick [13]

The argument being made here is that these lay narratives should be taken

seriously because, for some people, they contribute towards the lived

Thirdspaces that the Totnes area is a ‘special’ place where things can happen.

Toby and Ruth’s discussion also highlights a third important strand of

67 Interviews [4] and [7] which both mention Brutus

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experimental Secondspace: the visibility of practices, as also highlighted by

Norman Duncan:

And then there’s everywhere around, there’s alternative things actually happening as well. Dartington is there and happens. Sharpham is there and happens. The Totnes Natural Health Centre…the other one in the High Street, you know?…Conker Shoes, all these things…There are these businesses. There are alternative projects, ‘alternative’ in inverted commas, but there are projects happening, so the social infrastructure also gives that message, as something can happen here…something and there are…you see all these people. You take your kids to the school and people are discussing projects and futures and different social, environmental, economic infrastructure. So one is getting those ideas reinforced which if you are in the middle of a big city, it’s much harder to find that, all those elements supporting the internal vision. It’s like “Ah, I can do something”

Norman Duncan [31]

This impact was noted in the conclusion of Chapter Seven, and Guy Watson also

makes reference to the importance of this visibility in terms of the inspiration

that his organic farm and vegetable box scheme has had in inspiring other people.

I think that we have been so successful, visibly successful, that lot’s of people have started up in our wake

Guy Watson [22]

For example, Rob Hopkins explained why he chose Totnes as the site to develop

his Transition Town model:

You know I could have gone to Hull and spent 15 years trying to get it working or actually here in the sense there are certain towns like Stroud, Lewes, Totnes all the places that actually became transition places first that have a long history of being kind of laboratory towns, laboratory places for innovative ideas…my wife had lived here some years previously so she new some people here and yeah so it felt like it was somewhere where the transition idea could embed fasters than it could in other places

Rob Hopkins [5]

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Rob’s perception of Totnes as place he could launch his Transition model was

therefore based on his own knowledge of previous experimental and alternative

practices. It was also based on his own Secondspace imaginaries of other places,

such as Hull. It was his imagination of Totnes, as much as any ‘real’ knowledge

that led him to believe it was a good place to launch the Transition movement.

This is not to say that everyone who has experimented in the area have

necessarily drawn on such Secondspace notions, but that in some cases they

appear to play an important role.

8.2.3 Space for ideas

The thesis has illustrated how since the arrival of the Elmhirsts, intellectual and

discursive space had been created for the circulation of ‘subaltern’ or

countercultural discourse within the locality. Recalling that Goffman and Joy

(2005) suggest that the history of countercultures is also history of ‘free thinking’

several pioneers spoke of the way in which their particular area of practice was

perceived to be ‘cranky’ when they first started out [28, 32, 36]. However, it was

a recurrent theme of the research that there was an openness to such ideas within

the locality. This openness was regarded as an important factor as to why Totnes

has become a site of experimentation across a range of different areas:

…it is because there is a large proportion of the population here that have been exposed to....have tried and are interested in a lot of “alternatives”...and so that’s a kind of seed bed really that just happens to exist here

Interview with Jonathan Parker [32]

Similarly, according to one local businessman it is a place that is

willing to give slightly alternative, slightly off the wall kind of ideas an opportunity or chance…the community has a history of trying new things out

Interview with William Lana [11]

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Mark Burton, a Schumacher College student (who subsequently settled in the

area) who was trying to develop a UK version of the Swedish interest free JAK

bank, put it like this:

there are people listening to new ideas all the time so as a banking model its quite different, people don’t immediately get it people here are willing to listen to the ideas and see, and give it a chance rather than dismissing it as something weird and strange.

When asked whether it was easier to launch projects like TILT or LETS in Totnes, Norman Duncan replied:

I mean there’s a concentration of people who open at one level again to proposals of this nature where do you find easily bankers, estate agents and accountants who would be interested in these things? People come for the Steiner School or they come to Dartington or they come for whatever and as they sort of sit in Totnes, they become influenced if they are in some of those environments, they become influenced by others and they are open. So at the first level, people will come along to a meeting and they will join in, so its easier in Totnes to launch some of these things.

Interview with Norman Duncan [31]

Sarah Strong, involved in the second iteration of LETS in the town in the early

1990s, agreed that it was the ‘alternativeness’ of Totnes that meant ‘that there

were people who were open to new ways of doing things’ and that

there was a bit of a community of people like that obviously it gave space for people to explore their ideas and talk about things with people be it a lot people being unemployed in the early nineties it meant that people did sit and talk a lot and that was a good thing

Finally Guy Watson talks about how the open-mindedness has rubbed off on

farming community:

I think you do find it even in a farming community. I think that some of that broad mindedness has actually rubbed off… I do think there is a sort of tolerance and broad mindedness in the sort of…which is, which is great actually and that’s when you go away and come back to Totnes that what I…you know that’s the good bit of it.

The openness to ‘cranky’ ideas is therefore often attributed to the fact that such

ideas have circulated locally for some time, a factor that breeds tolerance

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amongst the wider community. However, as noted above with reference to

Secondspace imaginaries, many strands of the Counterculture actively reject

‘pure’ scientific rationalism and are open to alternative ways of knowing. As

Reich (1971, 280) puts those who engage with the Counterculture are encouraged

to

…respect and obey the body, the pay heed to the instincts, to obey the rhythms and music of nature, to be guided by the irrational, by folklore and the spiritual, and by the imagination.

Indeed it is this anti-scientific tendency that is often the focus of negative

depictions of Countercultural activities and places:

The south-west is the undisputed capital of British credulousness. In Totnes, Glastonbury and numerous other mumbo jumbo-drenched towns throughout the region, pseudo-druids and new agers shamble between homeopathic “clinics” and crystal emporia, seeking to cure their manifest problems with treatments so magical that their effects are scientifically undetectable. Totnes, in particular, has a distinguished history of mass charlatanry, largely thanks to its Leechwell springs, which were reputed in the middle ages to banish leprosy. Even in 2003, “a rare triangular healing pool” was reportedly discovered behind Leechwell Lane.

Benedictus (2007, 4)

However, here it is being argued that ‘credulousness’ is an important aspect of

the countercultural milieu that makes experimentation possible. In other words, it

creates the cognitive space for experiments to emerge by stretching the socially

accepted (and constructed) boundaries of possibility. The fact that people are

willing to believe all sorts of things are possible underpins social

experimentation. Thus, despite the fact that the thesis does not particularly

support Gibson-Graham’s economic ontology, it does concur that alternative

epistemologies are a significant aspect of opening up new possibilities (Starr

2000, 154).

The data suggest that there are two different ways in which this space for ideas is

created. At a most basic level the existence of multiple worldviews means that

there is space for new ideas that fit within the purview of those particular

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realities. For example, Rob Hopkins suggested that by picking Totnes to develop

his Transition Town community initiative he was

delivering a message about peak oil and climate change and a need to respond to people who are already more open to those kind of ideas.

It is therefore perhaps more accurate to consider Totnes as a site of multiple

‘bounded rationalities’ (Wilk 1996) as opposed to simply a site of ‘irrationality’.

Understood this way, an individual’s behaviour is not necessarily irrational but is

actually ‘rational’ from their perspective of their own subjective worldview.

Thus, those who believe that we are on the brink of global ‘resource depletion’

are more likely to find ideas of localisation posited by the Transition movement

as a potentially ‘rational’ response, what Pepper (1991, 49) calls ‘situational

logic’. Following this, it could be argued that to some extent the area might be

considered as a geographic ‘green niche’ a site of ecological innovation in which

shared cultural green values create the space for innovation (Seyfang and Smith

2007). Theorised in this way it is overlapping communities of practice who share

similar cultural values and cognitive frames create the innovation space.

However, such an assignation should be made with two caveats. Firstly, as noted

above, in many cases the area has not been the site green innovation, but instead

a site of ‘early adoption’. This has strong correlations with the argument that

value homophily is an important factor in the spread of innovation (Rogers

2003). Secondly, it is too simplistic to impute a single form of ‘green’ values to

the localised milieu. As a member of Landmatters put it the ‘caring for the land’

ethic is held in a number of different ways within the locality [60].

Furthermore, as has been argued throughout this thesis, it is misleading to assign

too much homogeneity to the countercultural milieu. As Rob Hopkins explained

in relation to his experiences with Transition Town Totnes:

There’s lots of different kind of alternatives… there’s lots of different species of alternative. I mean there’s your spiritual alternative. There’s your kind of mind, body, spirity sort spiritual improvement alternative, there’s your kind of sort of Glastonbury sort of conspiratorial kind of Ian Crane type Glastonbury alternativey type…there there’s your arty alternative. You’ve got your sort of political left wing sort of Guardian

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reading alternative, you’ve probably also got your alternative in terms of just older people who’ve retired and who just like to do what they want to do. They can sort of consider themselves rather radical and racy and a bit different from everybody and you’ve got your hands on environmentally permacutlurey people…you’ve got your kind of artistic, you’ve got writers and poets and those kind of people…I mean there’s lots of different ones… actually within TTT its very interesting how different events draw in different elements of that alternative community so…when we had Marinanne Williamson down here speaking we drew in all the, a lot of really way out kind of new agey lot who, you know, who haven’t really engaged with TTT that much because you know some of them think well actually we don’t have actually need to do anything practical because 2012 we’ll all just somehow transcend to another level.

Interview with Rob Hopkins [5]

Totnes can therefore be considered as a particularly localised and specific site of

multiplicity understood here to mean that

we are no longer living in the modern world, located within a single episteme. Instead, we discover that we are living in different worlds. These are not worlds - that great trope of modernity - that belong on the one hand to the past and on the other to the present. Instead, we discover that we are living in two or more neighbouring worlds, worlds that overlap and coexist.

Law and Mol (2006, 8)

It seems plausible that the existence of this multiplicity in itself also creates the

intellectual social space for other radical or unusual ideas. A diversity of beliefs

and belief systems creates the space for new beliefs to be articulated. Andy

Langford certainly felt this was significant, relating it back to the initial impact of

Dartington:

and so that’s sort of opened a space for that sort of thinking in Totnes. So, you know, there was always…somebody like me…I can be thinking…radical things and I wasn’t considered too weird because there were a lot more weirder people than me hanging around because of Dartington Hall, you know.

Interview with Andy Langford [12a]

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As discussed in Chapter Four, some theorists have linked the Foucauldian

concept of heterotopia with Countercultural space (St John 1999; Hetherington

2000). Soja (1996) also points to the parallels between his concept of Thirdpace

and heterotopia. St John (1999) suggests four defining characteristics of

heterotopias:

• They are primarily spaces of otherness (‘countersites’) • They are heterogeneous spaces • They are contested spaces • As event spaces they are liminal realms

This multiplicity of epistemes provides a space in which insurgent architects feel

comfortable articulating unconventional ideas. It is perhaps in this sense that the

locality does create a form of heterotopic space. However what is being argued

here is that this heterotopic space is a significant feature of the context that

allows unusual ideas or beliefs to be articulated. Some of these ideas can be

considered as ‘uninvited’ forms of public engagement (Wynne 2007). This term,

from Science and Technology Studies, reflects the way in which engagement

with science controversies emerge from outside the conventional boundaries of

public discourse. There are a number of examples of uninvited dialogue

emerging from the Totnes locality, not least the anti-GM protests of 1998 that

catalysed a strong local presence in the national campaign networks.

Furthermore, the attempts of the Transition Town movement to put ‘peak oil’ on

the political agenda also reflects a form on ‘uninvited dialogue’ which until

relatively recently had been officially ignored by the UK government. 68 This

also highlights the ways in which social movements can act as cognitive actors,

something that has generally been overlooked in the literature (Jamison 1996).

8.2.4 Liminal space

Chapter Three observed that the concept of liminality has been associated with

some countercultural practices and sites (e.g. Shields 1991). Liminality is related

to processes of individual change, of openness to new ideas and of ‘seeing’ the

68 It was only in March 2010 that the UK government began a dialogue about the possibility of Peak Oil see http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2010/mar/21/peak-oil-summit last accessed 20/06/2010

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world in different ways. Indeed, Gibson-Graham also point to parallels between

their post-structural approach and the Eastern spiritualities, such as Buddhism,

which encourage practices that underpin the transformation of the self (Gibson-

Graham 2006b, 130). Chapter Six illustrated how the Totnes area has developed

a reputation as a liminal site: a ‘node’ on the global ‘spiritual trail’. This is due to

the geographical propinquity of a number of different spiritual and educational

institutions that deal with different ‘technologies’ and systems of personal

transformation. Furthermore, many of the Countercultural strands discussed in

Chapter Six feature processes of ‘shifting’ or ‘raising’ of consciousness (e.g.

feminist / ecological / spiritual). Therefore there is a density of people within the

local milieu who are themselves open not only to ‘alternative’ ideas but also to

the processes of personal transformation that enables them to ‘see’ the world

differently. 69 This is reflected in the term ‘seekers’, which is often associated

with the ‘New Age’ (Button and Bloom 1992). Norman Duncan describes how

Totnes creates a supportive environment for such transformations:

…just a supportive symbol in a sense for “Yes, I’m changing, I can change”. I don’t know what it is, but it’s to do with all of these things and lots of people come here and their relationships change, their work changes, um whatever. It’s a supportive environment to enable them to look at themselves a bit in whichever area. So those are the kind of belief systems and then there are the resources around to facilitate those kinds of changes.

Indeed many of the economic activities discussed in Chapter Seven are also

closely linked to alternative epistemologies or processes of ‘consciousness

raising’. As Guy Watson noted ‘what we are competing for is a space in people’s

minds’. Furthermore, it is notable that many of the economic experimenters were

also involved in other ‘self-transforming’ practices, emphasising the way in

which the economic experimentation was entwined with other forms of

Countercultural experimentation. 70 This re-emphasises that not only are some of

69 Indeed one longstanding resident of the area told me that Totnes had a reputation as ‘the graveyard of marriages’ reflecting the way in which people changed when they came to the area. [Research Diary 03/07/2008] 70 Examples include Andy Langford who engaged in co-counselling [12c]. When I visited Landmatters they were in the middle of a ceremony to bless the land for a new yurt [60]

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these economic practices culturally embedded, but that economic liminality itself

is also embedded within a wider liminal socio-cultural context.

As noted in Chapter Two, Gibson-Graham (2005c) discovered the importance of

collective practice in the formation of new subjectivities. Such social groups and

networks appear to reinforce the ‘ontological security’ of members by providing

a shared sense of self-identity and cognitive framing. It also relates to the

previously discussed concept of value homophily. The very reason that this can

act as a driver of migration is that it reflects the way in which individuals feel

more psychologically secure about their beliefs when they are surrounded by

others who share the same beliefs (McPherson et al. 2001). Similarly, it also

relates to the notion of ‘intellectual support’ that was important for the survival

for marginal grassroots projects discussed in Chapter 7. The existence of shared

cognitive frames (‘like-mindedness’) is essential for determining what makes a

given behaviour ‘appropriate’ or ‘acceptable’ Giddens (1991, 36). For example,

the Totnes Women’s Centre created space for radical feminist discourses and the

development of radical feminist worldviews that found expression in a number of

different ways including support for the Greenham Peace Camp from the Totnes

Women for Peace group [21]. The way in which social networks reinforce

ontological security can itself be an important factor in supporting

experimentation by expanding the boundaries of what is ‘acceptable’ or

appropriate. For example speaking of their decision to live ‘illegally’ on their

land Ruth Chadwick said:

…round here people think it is cool so it’s easier, it’s easier to sort of think ‘Yeah we’re OK’ you know? We’re not mad!

Interview with Ruth and Toby Chadwick [13]

Thus ontological security also contributes to the normalisation of certain

practices and behaviours such as living outside the conventional housing system.

Thus the fact that Totnes is a site of liminal practices appears also to make it a

suitable site for social experimentation.

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8.2.5 Summary of this section

Drawing in part on Soja’s (1996) trialectics of spatiality this section has sought

to explore the spaces that have underpinned social experimentation within the

Totnes area. It has been argued that both Firstspaces and Secondspaces have

been an important factor in underpinning such experiments. However, it is also

important to recognise the way in which such spaces fold in on each other and

are, to some extent, mutually reinforcing as tentatively illustrated by Figure 8.4.

This illustrates some of the ways in which the different spaces work to recreate

each other in an ongoing iterative process, creating the space for further social

innovation.

Figure 8.4: Trialectics of social experimentation

Moreover, such experimentation takes place within a broader socio-cultural

context that it also helps to constitute. Thus the ontological and epistemological

multiplicity of the milieu creates space both for ideas and for processes of

personal transformation that enable new subjectivities to emerge. Relating these

phenomena back to the innovation literature the analogy of a ‘skunkworks’ is

useful in helping to explain the way in which countercultural sites are conducive

for social innovation. Skunkworks are

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small and often subversive units within a larger organization that are created in order to pioneer the development of a technological innovation.

Rogers (2003, 149)

They create space for innovation because the members are able to escape

routinised, organisational procedures and social norms. Thus there are obvious

parallels with the way in which countercultural sites can create the space for

individuals to escape the dominant, ‘taken for granted’ norms and cognitive

frames. Furthermore, those who are within countercultural networks are often

also able to occupy ‘free space’ because they are less structured by work

relations and lifestyle constraints (Cox 1995). However, whilst such sites might

be productive for new ideas to emerge, in the case of Totnes it seems that they

are also prone to conflict, as discussed in the next section.

8.3 A conflictive community

This part of the chapter explores some dimensions of conflict that have arisen in

Totnes. It is suggests that whilst the preceding section has identified aspects of

the Totnes area which make it a productive site of social experimentation, some

of the selfsame factors that support such experimentation also prevent the

development of collective entities. It seems feasible and likely that such conflicts

hinder the expansion of collective, community economies of the type envisaged

by Gibson-Graham (2006b; 2008). The section focuses on two particular

dimensions of conflict: socio-cultural and ethical. The final section then assesses

the implications in terms of building collective community economic forms.

8.3.1 Socio-cultural conflict

Most interviewees were asked about their views regarding the existence of a

‘cultural divide’ between the ‘alternative’ community and other local residents.

As might be expected, there was a range of views as one respondent predicted:

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I think it’s very difficult to judge because I think that you are going to get a different answer in a way from everyone you ask

Interview with Sarah Strong [17]

Whilst there was a range of different perceptions it was rare that interviewees did

not perceive the existence of any kind of cultural conflict. It was the perceptions

of the extent, form and intensity of such divides that varied. Martin Stott, whose

role in the emergence of the ‘alternative’ Totnes place image was discussed in

chapter Six, said that he only became aware of a divide sometime after he had

written Spilling the Beans and characterised it, in simplistic terms, as being

between ‘farmers and healers’ [44]. When Martin Stott was back in the town in

2005 to make a programme for the BBC he was approached by people hoping

that he wasn’t making another programme about ‘alternative’ Totnes [44]. As

another interviewee put it

There’s a sort of local population that feels a bit invaded in a sense, by lots of this alternative stuff


This sense of invasion seems to have a number of dimensions. Most obviously it

is a physical invasion. Indeed, it should be acknowledged that the existence of

cultural conflict within any given rural community is hardly unexpected,

particularly one which has experienced significant counter-urbanisation as the

South Hams has (Murdoch et al. 2003). What is particularly of relevance here is

the way in innovation promoted by incomers might be resisted. For example:

There have been occasional examples of resentments from the 'Old Guard' whose families have lived here for generations toward newcomers. But that sometimes happens elsewhere in the country with small inward looking communities who resent change.

In Devon the newer residents are called " 'Blow Ins'", who purportedly "Always want to alter things." An example of this happened when a large group of Totnes residents, including me, campaigned for and finally secured land for allotments, on a meadow below Totnes Castle, which had previously been used for grazing sheep.

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There followed a series of angry complaints to the council from the neighbours on the opposite side of the road about the allotment holders, who were perceived as newcomers although some were in fact locals too. They said that "They are up there at all hours of the day and night! " Actually as there is no lighting at the allotments we go home at dusk at the latest. It was clear that the pleasant rustic views from their houses of flocks quietly grazing had changed to a landscape of grubby gardeners, compost bins, sheds and sometimes untidy vegetable plots. They were incensed. To placate them, some of us quietly placed beans and sweet peas on their doorsteps and most of the complaints died down in time.

Interview with Jan Innes [53]

Therefore people who associate the localised alternative cultures with incomers

or ‘blow-ins’ are likely also to connect them to the wider deleterious effects of

counter-urbanisation discussed in this thesis such as house price inflation and

gentrification of the area. The migration by those drawn by alternative cultures is

only one element of this wider migratory trend and difficult to quantify, but it

still contributes to the overall effect. Therefore, whilst Alan Langmaid feels

relations with incomers are generally good he does detect a

…a degree of resentment, I feel a degree of resentment when it comes to house prices because they come in….I’ll be a ‘typical’ local now [puts on Devon accent] ‘They bloody come in here and tidy up our town’

Interview with Alan Langmaid [10]

Secondly, there is also a sense of cognitive invasion. Some of this is reflected in

conflict over the place images of Totnes. The above quotes highlights the

existence of localised resistance to the way in which the ‘alternative’ cultures in

the area are responsible for the development of the ‘alternative’ place images of

Totnes. Indeed the pronunciation of Totnes itself has to some slight extent

become a cultural battleground. 71 Ironically, groups that are in many ways

championing progressive causes and emancipatory causes (see for example

Figure 8.5) and who are proud of Totnes’ reputation are themselves perceived as

agents of localised cultural imperialism:

71 The traditional Devonian way of pronouncing Totnes is Tot!n"s. However many people (often perceived as incomers) pronounce it as Totn#s (see interview 26)

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I think that some people get fed up with all the attention given to Totnes being alternative and they just want to emphasise it’s an ordinary town you know. I hate to be simplistic but I think you know some of it could be a class thing you know. I mean alternative is very kind of middle class sort of you know, Guardian, Independent reading sort of stuff and you know if you’re local and you can’t…your children aren’t able to afford to ever live here its easy to target those who are moving in

Interview with Bob Mann [26]

Figure 8.5: Amnesty March through Totnes (June 2008)

For example, when William Lana opened Green Fibres he suggested that there

was

a little bit of animosity from some locals who think it is just 'green wacko strangeness’ and it isn't the true Totnes

Interview with William Lana [11]

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Another example of this ongoing tension was an attempt was made in 1993 to

‘modernise’ the Totnes Carnival and embrace some aspects of ‘alternative’

culture, led by people associated with the ‘Green’ Community Office and with

the support of some Travellers. However this innovation was not widely

welcomed and the event returned to its traditional 1950s theme for subsequent

carnivals.

Shields (1991, 61) suggests that conflict over ‘place myths’ can be rooted in

cultural and class divisions and Mann’s quote above also suggests that class

might be a reason for the rejection of some ‘alternative’ ideas. Certainly some

interviewees mentioned the need for their projects to reach beyond the ‘middle

classes’ [60, 5]. 72 Sarah Strong’s suggestion that those involved in the vibrant

1990s LETS scheme were ‘probably middle class but broke’ [17] concurs with

Williams’ (1995, 238) research which suggested that the Totnes LETS scheme

appealed to the ‘disenfranchised middle classes’. This concurs with the

observation made in Chapter 3 that many of the Countercultural movements

themselves are rooted in the middle classes (e.g. for environmentalism see

Cotgrove 1982). This is not to argue against the merits of middle-class activism,

indeed some have argued that it is the most effective form of activism. 73

However the data suggest the need to recognise the social, economic and cultural

situatedness of such activism, and how this may prevent broader coalitions from

being constructed particularly at a very ‘local’ geographic scale.

So whilst the socio-cultural divisions within the area are complex and should not

be simply reduced to an ‘indigenous’ versus ‘incomers’ dichotomy, there are a

number of wider socio-cultural reasons why people might feel a general

resentment towards ideas that are perceived as being generated from within the

countercultural milieu. Furthermore, there are also reasons that people may reject

such ideas because of their countercultural origins. For example, the Chair of the

72 O’Rourke’s (2009) research on Transition Towns describes the Transition Town steering groups he researched as ‘post-materialist middle classes’ 73 See for example interview with pioneering US social activist Saul Alinsky who after decades of community activism had decided to focus his efforts on the middle classes shortly before his death in 1972 http://www.progress.org/2003/alinsky3.htm last accessed 26/01/2010

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Chamber of Commerce, discussing how he was in the process of rolling out a

‘plastic bag free’ campaign, suggested that:

…it’s a really tricky number you know, I don’t want people turning round and saying ‘I’m not going along with this hippy crap’ They will do. I guarantee they’ll be some people say ‘What’s this fucking hippy crap? I ain’t doing this.’ And that’s the fault lies not with them, the fault lies with the degree to which I’ve communicated with them.

Interview with Paul Wesley [6]

A perceived association with ‘hippy’ culture is therefore one reason that some

people might reject certain initiatives. For example, this comment on a BBC

Internet message board about the Totnes Pound:

It doesn't work in Totnes, Ally [previous discussant], well or otherwise! One has to remember that Totnes is the UK's "Alternative Capital #2", the leader being Glastonbury which has even more post-hippy wackos. Odd unworkable ideas flourish here, briefly, before their inevitable demise in the face of economic reality. The "Totnes Pound" is the latest incarnation of alternative trading schemes got up by the soya beans & wigwams brigade, whose economic nous could be written on the back of a fag packet. Similar things were tried here decades ago. They tried to pay the (Totnes based) printing company that printed the Totnes Pounds IN Totnes Pounds, and were told to p**s off, unsurprisingly! Mainly, this Mickey Mouse currency gets traded by believers: I'll give you X TPs for my brown rice, and you can spend them with Charmaine for your astral healing sessions...

‘Malcolm’ BBC Countryfile website accessed 17/05/2008

Posted by someone asserting to be a Totnes resident, it again illustrates how

socio-cultural differences can be a significant barrier to building alternative

economic projects. ‘Malcolm’ clearly does not consider himself as a ‘post-hippy

wacko’ or part of the ‘soya beans and wigwam brigade.’ It also illustrates the

way in which humour can be used to denigrate cultures that are considered to be

deviant and which break social rules (Powell 1988). Secondly, it illustrates how

the perception of a homogenous ‘alternative’ culture affects the credibility of the

Totnes Pound currency. The diversity of subcultural practices are represented as

a singular phenomenon (‘the soyabean and wigwam brigade’) and then dismissed

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in its entirety. Thus it is evident that the density of practices and ‘realities’ that

helps to supports the development of such projects is actually a drawback. In

addition to creating heterotopic space for experimentation it also means that

countercultural practices become co-associated and stereotyped. Most

importantly, the quote emphasises again how important credibility is to the

functioning of such experiments and how disbelief functions as a barrier to

participation. Unlike the ‘believers’ in the Totnes Pound, Malcolm is unwilling

to participate because he does not find the idea a credible proposition in the face

of ‘economic reality’. This reflects the way in which conflict between different

socio-culturally embedded cognitive frames acts as a barrier to the development

of alternative economic projects. The construction of economic alternatives can

face conflict in the face of other people’s ‘realities’.

However, the data suggest that conflict arises not only between ‘mainstream’ and

‘alternative’ cultures but also between ‘alternative’ cultures. This conflict creates

a further potential barrier to the development of collaborative projects. One

respondent perceived these divisions as a form of factionalism:

I also think there’s a lot of factionalism here. I’m sure its true in Hebden Bridge, Stroud and Glastonbury and Brighton and Machynlleth of people who think ‘Oh no I’m green, I’m dark green, oh I’m olive, oh I’m so green its black’.

Similarly

You tend to get groups coming together to do something and then find after a couple of meetings they can’t work together so they go down the road and start another group doing the same thing you know. You get half a dozen groups all reinventing the same wheel.

Interview with Bob Mann [26]

The data also suggest that different temporal waves of in-migration tended to

associate with different ‘causes’: Thus it was LETS in the early 1990s, GM

activism in the late 1990s and, most recently, TTT. In these ways the community

activities provide a way into social networks, certainly something that was

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observed of the LETS (Williams 1995) and was the way in which I ‘used’ the

Transition Towns process. Indeed the volunteer co-ordinator at TTT noted that

most of the TTT volunteers were recent arrivals. 74 This also seems to limit the

development of wider networks and collaborations, perhaps because of the

diversity of different groups or because activists experience forms of ‘burn out’.

Certainly one interviewee noted that that previous generations of activists in the

town had not engaged with the Transition Town process [27].

Transition Town Totnes gives a further empirical example of the way in which

such conflict can unfold between sub-countercultures. Here, another local activist

has challenged the Transition Town movement’s Peak Oil discourse:

Is there more to 'Transition Town' than is currently being disclosed ... or is it simply a case of well-meaning ecologists dreaming of sustainable community while being oblivious to the geo-political realities. Only time ... and a greater regard for intellectual transparency ... will tell. In 2005, I attended a presentation by Naresh Giangrande on 'Peak Oil'. The presentation incorporated the standard Campbell/Simmons/Ruppert hypothesis on 'Peak Oil' but was presented as FACT. During the Q&A session, it became apparent that Naresh possessed limited oilfield knowledge. At the end of the evening, I approached Naresh and suggested that perhaps the issue of 'Peak Oil' should be opened up for debate. He declined the invitation. Subsequent suggestion, to both Naresh Giangrande & Rob Hopkins, that the issue be debated publicly were rejected.

Extract from http://transitiontownwatch.blogspot.com/ dated 27/11/07 emphasis in original

Ian Crane is involved in other countercultural groups around Totnes, including

organising a conference in 2008 called ‘The Alternative View’. Thus the milieu

creates social space in which two competing discourses of Peak Oil can be

articulated, which in 2007 was in itself a fairly radical and marginal discourse.

The data contain several other examples of conflict between different strands of

counterculture within in the area. For example the spiritual leader Andrew Cohen

was a controversial figure [21, 64]. The appearance of David Icke at the above

74 Totnes Pound Ethnographic Diary 17/09/08

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Alternative View conference also created conflict. 75 This therefore reflects

hostility to those who are trying to shift ontologies and the influence they might

have. Indeed Smith (forthcoming) has noted the importance of Rob Hopkins in

the process of ‘claims making’ within the Transition movement, as well as the

fact that some participants have found it a little ‘cult’ like. 76

Charismatic authority is a feature of a range of alternative spiritualities (Bird

1978) but, as this chapter has argued, is also arguably important within other

forms of ontological reframing. Opposition to such ‘leaders’ within Totnes

therefore perhaps not only reflects a diversity of worldviews, but a concern that

such processes of change can also be manipulative and ‘violent’. Indeed, this is

something that, within the context of Peak Oil is acknowledged by Hopkins

(2008, chapter 5) as ‘post-petroleum stress disorder’. There is therefore not only

a clash of worldviews but also a potential resistance to those who seek to change

them. Particularly, as it has been argued that those with ‘new age’ views are

more susceptible to manipulation (Höllinger 2004).

8.3.2 Ethical conflict

The second significant dimension of conflict that emerges from the data was

ethical conflict. This is theoretically significant because Gibson-Graham (2006b)

conceptualise their community economy as an ethical space of decision-making,

where collective decisions can be made. Here, the data suggest that the

exploration of ethics can create significant debate and disagreement. Ethical

conflict hindered a number of the community economic experiments such as the

second generation of LETS currency, where there was an ongoing debate about

the value of the Totnes Acorn. 77 As one organiser observed:

75 David Icke is a controversial figure associated with ‘New Age conspiricism’ and who has been accused of anti-Semitism (see Ronson 2001). His appearance in Totnes lead to some protests outside the Civic Hall on the night that he was present (research diary 29/04/2008) 76 Rob Hopkins has publicly defend the Transition model against accusations that it is cult like. See http://forum.rickross.com/read.php?12,83474,page=1 last accessed 11/03/2011). 77 See for example ‘Acorns or Peanuts’, Totnes Small Ads Magazine 28/2/1992, p. 5. Such debates were not uncommon amongst the organisers of LETS currencies see Thorne (1996)

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the biggest controversies were about pricing and you know sort of, was it really fair for like someone who was a complementary therapist on the LETS system to be charging so much more that someone who was doing cleaning on the LETS system

Interview with Sarah Strong [17]

Prem Ash reported similar debates within TILT about the loans that they were

giving to local businesses:

And the wonderful thing is you’ve got to think what your ethics are. You know what is an ethical loan? And how far do you stretch this word ethical you know if somebody’s buying a blooming van for instance? We had to really think about this because our duty was to people who had invested. They were wanting to invest in ethical businesses and…its very interesting going through that process of what is actually ethical, because clearly a van isn’t very ethical but he was taking puppetry to children in schools and things teaching them behavioural ways through this medium which was clearly a good thing.

Interview with Prem Ash [37]

One respondent suggested that such conflict was rooted in competing idealisms:

In so many of the projects, internal conflicts between people about their idealisms, about whether or not in the community there should be black tea, because black tea is made in such or such a place whatever, so conflicts over where people project their own inner stories onto whatever the alternative community was and end up battling over stupid ideals which have meaning, but the real meaning is people need to learn how to live together with themselves and live together with each other and I didn’t have all the skills for that.


Certainly many respondents reported such battles. It was an ethical dispute over

the use of sewing machines that led to the split of Green Shoes from Conker

Shoe in the early 1980s:

…the sewing machine question became identified as a feminist issue and it became, you know, sewing machines are used world over in sweatshops to oppress women who are locked in, paid minimal wages and work long hours and blah, blah, blah, all of which is true, and so

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therefore sewing machines are clear evidence of the patriarchy, you know, when really it is capitalism itself that is at fault. In our group the young women chose to make sewing machines symbols of the great male oppression-of-women conspiracy. So, of course, we had endless argy bargy and name calling about whether we should have sewing machines or not and I, you know, at one point, two years into this deadlock, I got to the place where I was just so fed up with ripping my fingers to bits sewing soles on shoes and barely making a living that, in desperation, I just went and bought one without prior agreement you know? So that was just more evidence of my overbearing macho style you know [laughs]?

Interview with Andy Langford (12c]

Here we can see how the ethical dispute is rooted in the conflict between Andy’s

‘worldview’ the emerging feminist consciousness of his female businesses

partners. It also points to the conflict between idealism and the day-to-day

pragmatic struggles of running a small business. Greenlife gave a similar

example of such conflict:

We have staff who feel uncomfortable about it and we just said you ‘If you feel that uncomfortable about it no-one’s forcing you to work at Greenlife.’ I mean I don’t think that anybody has ever left for that reason but I think they’ve not liked it, yeah. Its not only been about what we sell …one chap we had working for us he was quite rude to customers for saying they wanted bag and things you know: ‘You don’t need a bag.’ Well you know, I don’t think it’s for us to say, or you can just set an example. We do an incredible amount of recycling, we recycle everything and we really do our best to do all those kinds of things and I think that’s important but I certainly wouldn’t tell somebody else what they should or shouldn’t be doing.

Interview with Jamie Sermon [41]

This tension between ethical idealism and pragmatism also applied to community

based projects:

M: Well I think TILT eventually filtered out anybody who wasn’t prepared to be pragmatic. P: That’s true, that’s true. M: You know it was, there were a lot of people dropped out

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P: [looking at meeting notes] Early on here I can see other peoples names on the [minutes] M: And they became disillusioned with our lack of being completely ethical, our lack of ambition.

Interview with Prem Ash and Mark Beeson [37]

TILT also received ethical critiques from its supporters about where it kept the

money that it was lending out:

…another thing that ethical, ethically came up all the time was people said was ‘Where are you keeping this money?’ We had it in the HSBC you know because we didn’t even have a Co-operative here [in Totnes] and in those days there wasn’t Internet baking so you couldn’t access the money from Totnes. I never understood why we didn’t have a Co-operative Bank in this town of all places, but we didn’t and so we had to put the money in the HSBC and that put a few people off.

Interview with Prem Ash [37]

Finally several of the alternative businesses have experienced conflict in their

failure to meet the ethical ideals of their customers. Jamie Sermon from

Greenlife again:

I mean we don’t have customers coming in weekly and challenging us but we’ve had some customers, if we are talking ethical and non-ethical who are specific, or particularly ethical, I would say. But that’s fine I’m happy for them to have those beliefs but I want them to start their own shop and see how well they could run it. If they have to get rid of almost everything that they had, which is what people…one guy came in once and I mean we would literally have had to get rid of about fifty percent because somewhere somebody was obscurely connected with a slaughterhouse or something you know?

William Lana from Green Fibres:

!"# $"%# &'(%)*"+(# &,--./$# '(# ,--# 0./1(# )2# /,*"(# 3"&,'("# !"# 4,5"6# 7# 1)/8%#0/)!6#,#(.-0#4,/$./$#&4.-1+"/8(#*)3.-"(#,/1#(.-0#&,/#&)*"#2+)*#!)+*(#!4)#,+"#3).-"1#,/1#%4,%8(#9)'#0/)!:#;)%#,#5"+9#/.&"#%4./$#!4.&4#.(#!49#!"#%+9#%)#&,++9#,#%9<"#)2#()+%#)2#<",&"#(.-0#!4.&4#.(#4,+5"(%"1#2+)*#&)&))/(#!4.&4#4,5"#3""/#-"2%#39#%4"6#%4"#*)%4#,/1#()#/)#./("&%(#4,5"#1."1#./#%4,%#3'%#9)'#0/)!#=4,%# 7#*",/# %)# (,9# 39# %4,%# .(# 9)'# &,/8%#*,0"# >??@# )2# %4"# <")<-"#A4,<<9B#>??@#)2#%4"#%.*"#

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And Barry and Helen Pope from Seeds, health food shop:

Helen: I think there were a lot of pressures on us in those early years to be like that. I mean I had a big fracas with somebody because we sold Rooibos tea Barry: Oh yes because of the Apartheid

The data therefore suggest that ethical ‘space’ is contested and conflictive. By

making their ethics ‘visible’ these businesses and projects appear to have opened

up a wider space of ethical contestation which itself can undermine collaboration

and a sense of community. The idea that ‘ethical space’ is inherently contested

has implications for collective attempts to build community economies around

notions of shared ethics and suggests that the detailed processes by which such

ethics are distilled are of critical importance to the sustainability of any given

collective endeavour.

8.4: Heterotopia and ‘community’

This chapter suggests that researchers take seriously the idea that countercultural

places are sites of social innovation and experimentation. It has highlighted the

importance of social entrepreneurs in undertaking such experiments and

suggested some ways in which this experimental social space might be

understood. The chapter highlights a central paradox: Whilst the Totnes area is

that a space that is productive for innovative and unorthodox ideas to emerge and

circulate is also a space in which they can struggle for support. Understanding

both the processes that shape such places, and the formation of ‘heterotopic’

forms of social space are both useful in explaining this paradox. Within this

heterotopic space people attempt to create and live their lives according to

different orderings or rationalities. Thus heterotopia creates the space for new

ideas and forms of innovation. However, the ability for these innovations to

diffuse locally is limited by not only socio-economic conditions that have led to

the creation of the milieu but also by its very heterotopic nature. The fact that a

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multiplicity of realities is able to exist can prevent the ontological cohesion

necessary to build collective institutions. Thus whilst the heterotopic social space

creates the possibility for individual and collective experimentation it seems to

hinder wider collaboration. This would resonate with the argument that both

heterotopia (Pepper 2005) and certain aspects of the ‘new age’ (Heelas 1995)

reflect the politics of ‘utopian’ liberal individualism. Contrastingly, those

collective economies that are valourised as exemplars - such as Mondragón and

the Emilia Romagne co-operatives - appear to be underpinned by a much greater

degree of cultural (and therefore ontological) homogeneity. 78

For those endeavouring to build grassroots initiatives what this perhaps points

toward is the need for a more sophisticated understanding of community that

moves beyond simplistic notions of community based on common geography,

values or association. Gibson-Graham have attempted to do this with their notion

of ‘being in common’, but arguably this is still an idealistic form of community

and one based on notions of geographic commonality. Furthermore, as illustrated

in Chapter Four much of the literature on various postcapitalist forms appeals to

the idea that community based institutions are inherently unproblematic and

reflect a form of ‘resource’ that can be mobilised as part of postcapitalist

development strategies (e.g. Kretzmann and McKnight 1993). A more

sophisticated notion of community would recognise that these discourses of

community are themselves situated. In some circumstances, appeals to

community based activism can actually reflect a form of localised ‘top down’

oppression by a confident and vocal local ‘elite’, rather than being ‘bottom up’

activism.

Certainly, it is interesting to note that within this case study, there was, in the

underground press, some discussion on the contested nature of ‘community’ and

‘who’ such press was speaking for. 79 The question of community was something

78 The question of the extent to which the Mondragón Co-operative model is transferable to other places often questions the significance of the Basque nationalism and Catholicism from which it emerged (see Whyte and Whyte 1991). Similarly the co-operative movement in Emilia Romanga is split into three federations: Catholic, Communist / Socialist and the much smaller Social Democratic (Logue 2006). 79 Issue 12 of the Dart (July – Aug 1982) says that the idea it is a ‘community’ magazine has bought many ‘indignant responses’ and goes on to discuss what community means.

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that was also much debated at Dartington in the 1970s. In the present era, not

everyone was unaware of the problem of the way in which ‘community’ can

often be appropriated as illustrated by this quote from a business owner:

I remember someone coming to me and selling a community paper and I said sure ‘no problem’ and I looked at it and I went over to them and said ‘this is disgusting. Even the language you are using is incomprehensive to ninety percent of the population. This isn’t a community paper. This is your special interest paper’

Perhaps then what this points to is the need for much less bounded, static and

utopian conception of community, and instead conceptualise it as an ongoing

process of managing and reconciling conflict. Gibson-Graham (2006b, 86)

recognise that normative discourses of the community economy often privilege

geographic commonality. However, their own notion of community economy

and ‘being in common’ still appears to be excessively optimistic with little

reference within in the work to the necessity of managing conflict to hold

communities together. This thesis suggests that both the process of creating

ethical spaces of decision-making, and their ongoing maintenance are (contra

Luc-Nancy) processes that require active management. This concurs with Marion

Young’s (1990) critique of the way in which ‘community’ is associated with

ideas of homogeneity. She suggests that:

…the ideal of community denies, devalues or represses the ontological difference of subjects, and seeks to dissolve social inexhaustibility into the comfort of a self-enclosed whole.

Young 1990, 230

Therefore it is not just the community economy as a ‘space’ that needs constant

construction, as Gibson-Graham (2006b xxviii) themselves recognise, but the

very community itself. There may therefore be much to learn from experiments

that have attempted to build ‘intentional’ forms of community. For example,

exploring the way in which communes construct reality Ogilvy and Ogilvy

(1972) distinguish between religious / political communities which are led by a

charismatic leader and pluralistic ones. They argue that the latter are much more

prone to conflict and collapse over conflicting ‘reality determinants’, suggesting

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that specific models of conflict management are therefore necessary for such

communities. (see also Whyte and Whyte 1991). Understanding the construction

of community economies as an ontological project emphasises the way in which

perceptions of different economic possibilities are rooted in different ‘realities’.

Reflexive awareness of this is an important factor for those who seek to develop

collective economic forms, but it does not necessarily make the task any easier,

particularly for those who might try in countercultural places like Totnes. Indeed,

thinking about community economies in this way suggests that reflexivity and

processes of reconciliation need to be at the heart of any serious endeavour that

seeks to build common ground between multiple and competing realities.

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Chapter 9: Conclusions and future research

This thesis has sought to bring together two different areas of enquiry. Firstly it

has sought to deepen the theoretical understanding of ‘countercultural’ places. In

doing so it has sought to shed light both on the complexity of such places and the

inter-related and overlapping processes that ‘construct’ them. Secondly, it has

sought to empirically explore Gibson-Graham’s theoretical approach to

capitalism which argues that postcapitalism is proliferative and offers the

potential for alternative economic development strategies. In bringing these two

areas of enquiry together it has revealed not only why postcapitalist institutions

might often emerge in countercultural places, but why they may also falter. This

final chapter therefore brings together the overall conclusions and arguments that

have emerged from the research. Part One recaps the three research questions,

answering each in turn based on the data discussed in the preceding chapters,

highlighting some key theoretical implications. Part Two reflects on the

limitations of the research. Part Three then points to some potential areas of

future research.

9.1 Summary of the research questions and findings

This section recaps the research questions and the contribution that the thesis has

made to addressing both the empirical and wider theoretical component.

Question 1: What are the processes that have led to the emergence of Totnes as

a countercultural place? What implications does this have for how such places

are understood?

Chapter Six described the processes that led to the evolution of Totnes as a

countercultural place. It showed how the density of countercultural practices and

institutions in the Totnes area had their roots in a local milieu that was initially

created by, and centred upon, the Dartington utopian community. Dartington

acted as an institutional node which created both proximate and networked forms

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of countercultural social space. The thesis has shown how a ‘collision’ between

Dartington and the Counterculture underpinned the emergence of various

‘counter-subcultures’ during the 1970s, despite conflict over Dartington’s

institutional engagement with the Counterculture. The emergence of these

subcultures underpinned the discursive, institutional and material impacts on the

locality. These processes contributed to the development of a localised

countercultural milieu. The chapter described the processes by which this

emerged including, in the 1980s, the emergence of the place image of Totnes as

an ‘alternative’ or ‘new age’ capital.

However, the thesis argues that Totnes’ emergence as a recognised site of

countercultural activity is the result of a number of overlapping processes that

belie the idea that ‘reputation’ is the only or primary driver of place making.

Indeed the thesis has sought tentatively to explore some of the ways in which the

various tendencies and processes interact. The concepts of the countercultural

milieu and its ‘institutional thickness’ have been suggested to reflect the way in

which ‘fixed’ sites of countercultural practice can connect places to wider

networks and flows of people, ideas and practices. Indeed the thesis argued that it

was the growing ‘thickness’ of institutions in the 1980s that led to the emergence

of the identity of the Totnes area as a site of ‘Alternative’ cultures. This

recognition itself led to the emergence of the discursive ‘place myths’ about

Totnes which – whilst simplifications – had a material effect on the area and

which did play some role in attracting institutions, businesses and people to the

area.

The research also highlighted the importance of other factors in the construction

of countercultural places. Most significantly, the geographical manifestation of

homophily was identified as a key factor. On the one hand this reflected in-

migration that was stimulated by familial and personal networks. On the other it

reflected a desire to be amongst ‘people like us’, amongst those of similar

countercultural beliefs. Finally, the ‘uplifting’ aesthetics of the rural landscape

and the townscape of Totnes itself also played a role, not only in attracting

people, but in underpinning spatial imaginaries (Secondspaces) which

contributed to the construction of countercultural senses of place. This

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relationship – between ‘utopian’ aesthetics and the formation of countercultural

places – does have some resonance with other research (Lees 1999; Smith and

Phillips 2001, Kopp 2004).

In highlighting the central importance of the ‘Dartington effect’ this thesis

suggests that ‘utopian’ or intentional communities should not only be considered

as ‘bounded’ subject of enquiry as has generally been the case (e.g. Rigby 1974a;

1974b; Pepper 1991). Their relational impact, both on their immediate locality

and beyond, is also an important aspect of their existence. Indeed the thesis has

illustrated how such connections and networks shape the communities

themselves. It has illustrated how adopting a ‘wider’ understanding of the

Counterculture can reveal a diversity of subcultures and practices that are often

overlooked. The thesis has argued that recognising this diversity is important

because it is an important facet of the sometimes heterotopic nature of

countercultural places that is obscured when overly reductive categories are

ascribed. Indeed, it is this wider countercultural milieu that provides the ‘cultural

embeddeness’ from which specific postcapitalist initiatives have emerged.

Taking ‘slices’ of (counter)culture therefore provides an impoverished

understanding of how such institutions and practices emerge.

Question 2: What kind of postcapitalist institutions have emerged in and

around Totnes? To what extent do these support Gibson-Graham’s theory of

proliferative postcapitalism?

Chapter Seven explored the different types of postcapitalist institution that have

evolved in the area with a particular focus on the fragmented marketscape of

organic food, one of the most significant areas of postcapitalist activity in the

area. It highlighted three particular facets of this postcapitalist marketscape that

could be regarded as potentially significant. First, it highlighted the enduring

presence of ‘non-capitalist’ independent retail businesses in Totnes. Secondly,

the emergence and success of Riverford Organic Vegetables, one of the largest

organic box delivery schemes in the UK. Thirdly, it revealed how there had been

a history of Community Supported Farming experimentation in the locality. In

the case of the latter, it concluded that these have, to date, struggled to have a

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discernable economic impact in the sense that they did not make a significant

contribution to the construction of livelihoods, nor did they reflect established

alternative ‘system of provision’. Similarly, other community based economic

initiatives struggled with the same problems with capacity and resources that

they often encounter in other places (Davison 2006).

As discussed in Chapter Two, any given conception of postcapitalism hinges on

a given framing of ‘capitalism’. What is at stake therefore are the different

ontologies of capitalism – From Gibson-Graham’s (2006a; 2006b) optimistic

‘minimalistic’ capitalism to the ‘systemic’ notions of capitalism whereby

alternatives are always undermined or co-opted by the dynamics of capitalist

accumulation (e.g. Albo 2006). Any given ontology of capitalism legitimises a

number of strategies for those wishing to address some of the problems of

capitalist development. A key purpose of this thesis was to ‘test’ Gibson-

Graham’s theory of proliferative postcapitalism through an empirical case study

of postcapitalist institutions. One clear conclusion that emerged from the data is

that those postcapitalist institutions that appeared to have greater economic

significance – i.e. the localised organic food retail market and Riverford

Organics – seemed more closely ‘entwined’ with capitalist processes and

institutions. Thus it becomes more difficult to argue that they reflected distinct

spaces that are ‘outside’ capitalism. Indeed, for many of the interview

respondents, their emic conception was that they were ‘within’ capitalism, albeit

sometimes reluctantly.

Furthermore, the existence of a number of economic tendencies was revealed.

Whether or not these are theorised as ‘capitalist’ tendencies, it does not diminish

the fact that they had the impact of undermining economic viability of the actors

on which they acted. This leads to the argument that if such practices are to be

considered to be ‘outside’ capitalism then proponents of a diverse economic

ontology need more clearly to elucidate the boundaries of capitalism. For

example, a clearer distinction between capitalistic and non-capitalist markets

needs to be made. Businesses participating in the organic food retail market

clearly felt the impact of increasing competition driven by profit seeking which is

sometimes described as a ‘logic’ of market capitalism (Went 2000). Therefore if

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‘embedded’ or ‘social’ markets are to be considered a challenge to capitalism

(e.g. Wall 2005; Ekins 1992; Jacobs 2003; Henderson 2006) a clearer conception

of the distinction with ‘capitalist’ market is required. If this cannot be done, then

getting out of capitalism requires getting out of ‘the market’, which from an

institutional (as opposed to a lifestyle) point of view is clearly problematic.

Fournier (2002) (amongst others) suggests that institutions such as Community

Supported Agriculture and LETS schemes are potential ways to ‘get outside’ the

market. However this research suggests that whilst the Totnes area was a fertile

site for such experiments, none had succeeded in building circuits of value that

could sustain livelihoods or guarantee their ongoing reproduction. These

institutions remain undercapitalised themselves and whilst there was evidence

that the milieu provided other forms of non-monetary support it is difficult to

argue that these acted as suitable forms of non-monetary surplus that could act as

a substitute for financial surplus. Whilst many businesses were not solely profit

motivated, the necessity of making a financial surplus was clear priority. This

research therefore concurred with the criticism that the lack of attention to

financial dimensions of capitalism is a significant lacuna in Gibson-Graham’s

work (Tonkiss 2008) particularly with reference to the development of

postcapitalist institutions.

If financial surplus is necessary to sustain postcapitalist institutions then further

theoretical work needs to be done on the theorising of how such surplus can be

created outside the ‘circuitous mechanisms of capitalist industrialisation’

(Gibson-Graham 2005a, 16). However, the research illustrates that not only are

postcapitalist institutions dependent on financial surplus but that they are

sometimes sustained by ‘capitalist’ surplus that is redistributed through

philanthropy (e.g. the importance of the Elmhirsts) or consumer markets.

Interestingly, Gunn and Gunn (1991), from whom Gibson-Graham borrow the

term social surplus, theorise it primarily in financial terms and advocate the

importance of ‘alternative institutions of accumulation’ to develop new financial

circuits. Leyshon and Thrift (1995) argue that such institutions are sparse within

in the UK, yet this research suggests that they could be significant for the

development of a wider postcapitalist economy. The lack of significance placed

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on such institutions within Gibson-Graham’s work is perhaps because their

hybridised ‘anticapitalocentric’ economic ontology seeks in part to emphasise the

economic spaces beyond the monetary economy.

The importance of financial capital also points to another argument that emerged

from the research: that institutional embeddedness is more significant than the

localised cultural embeddedness of the milieu. As such it points to the

importance of theorising the state and understanding the way in which regulatory

regimes support or undermine postcapitalist experiments. As discussed below,

this may not be compatible with a ‘weak’ theoretical approach such as that of

Gibson-Graham.

Question 3: Does being a site of countercultural activity make it more possible

to build postcapitalist institutions? What are the implications for theories of

interstitial postcapitalism?

Chapter Eight explored a central paradox that emerged from the research: That

the same factors which make the Totnes area a productive site for the emergence

of social and ecological innovation are also implicated in hindering the

expansion of collective, community based institutions. Indeed it could be argued

that the economic ‘success’ of the local organic food economy, independent

retail and Riverford were all ultimately driven by individualised personal

consumption and as such reflect a weaker form of economic ‘alternative’ (Watt

et al. 2005). The research appears to highlight an inherent tension in Gibson-

Graham’s (2006b) theorisation of proliferative postcapitalism: that the conditions

that support processes of ontological reframing and building collective action

may conflict with each other. Thus a site where there is openness to ‘ontological

reframing’ and epistemic multiplicity is not necessarily a place that is conducive

to the building of collective community economies. Furthermore, the research

highlights the extent to which ‘ethical’ space is conflictive and thus requires

mechanisms of reconciliation if ‘ethical’ communities are to be held together.

The empirical research highlighted how the Totnes area has been a site of ‘early

adoption’ of certain countercultural and postcapitalist practices, rather than

necessarily the site of original innovation. It highlighted the different ways in

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which space was created for such experiments to take place. As such it argued

that the heterotopic nature of countercultural places might explain why it is

possible for social innovation to take place in such sites. In this sense the thesis

has argued that the role that such places play in social and ecological innovation

needs further exploration. Thus, the data suggest that to some extent the Totnes

locality could be theorised as a form of geographic ‘green niche’ (Seyfang and

Smith 2007) that is conducive to ecologically focused radical innovation.

However it is again worth noting that such ‘niches’ are not simply bounded

localities. Whilst there are locality-specific factors that are significant in

supporting innovation, networks and connections are also vital in connecting the

area to other places of countercultural innovation. It is across such space that

people, practices, ideas and even institutions travel. Similarly, it is evident how

innovations that have been pioneered in Totnes have spread to other places, most

recently through the emergence of the ‘global’ Transition Towns movement

(Bailey et al. 2009). In this sense the research also supports Nicholls’ (2007,

2009) recent attempts to reconcile the importance of both ‘place’ and ‘networks’

in the complex geography of social movements.

Chapter Eight did reveal some aspects of locality that were supportive to the

development of postcapitalist institutions. Many of these were to do with the

material and social impact of the countercultural milieu. Various forms of

Secondspace imaginary were also important. Yet it is also clear that some factors

that have ‘produced’ Totnes as a countercultural place can also undermine the

development of postcapitalist practices. For example, the processes that have

produced the localised countercultural milieu have also contributed to processes

of gentrification. Whilst such economic tendencies do play a role in sustaining

some of the ‘alternative’ businesses interviewed, they have also accelerated the

decline of ‘quotidian’ businesses in the town, along with the low-cost economic

‘margins’ that are vital for social experimentation. Furthermore, multiple social

and cultural cleavages appear to prevent coalition building. Ultimately what

emerged was a picture of fragmentation rather than something that reflected the

idealised ‘community economy’ that often appears in the literature (e.g.

Douthwaite 1995; Curtis 2003).

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Indeed the research highlights that the community economy is not something that

is waiting to be ‘revealed’ but is something that is itself discursively and

culturally produced by particular sections of society. Discourses of community

economics have their own normative assumptions and socio-cultural

‘embeddedness’. That is not to say that such ideas do not have merit, but that

advocates often overlook their situatedness (e.g. Gorringe 1999). It was

suggested that those who seek to build community economic institutions need to

see it as an active process of managing difference and conflict rather than tapping

into some pre-existing resource of geographic commonality. Indeed for those

attempting such projects it was suggested that there might be much to learn from

the literature on intentional communities (e.g. see also Sargisson and Tower

Sargent 2004, chapter 8).

9.2: Limitations and Reflections

The most obvious limitation of this thesis is that this is a single case study and

therefore caution must be taken in drawing too many wider conclusions.

However, it does point to a number of interesting theoretical avenues that can be

pursued and enriched with further empirical enquiry, as discussed below. One

obvious weakness is a consequence of the breadth that it attempts to cover: both

by exploring the two ‘sides’ of enquiry and by having broad conceptions of both

the Counterculture and postcapitalist institutions. The strength of this approach

has been that it has shown the connections and linkages that exist at a given site

that are often overlooked when a narrow conceptual framing is used. The

weakness is that it does not allow the depth of enquiry that would otherwise often

be the case in a thesis that adopted a narrower focus. For example, any one strand

of countercultural activity or postcapitalism could have been the focus of a more

detailed enquiry. Certainly the breadth made it a more difficult exercise and I

have to hope that the reader agrees that it was worth the effort. However, many

aspects of the research could be explored in much greater depth.

The second important critique is that the research is in many ways a starting

point rather than an end point. Not only because it is attempting to promote both

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countercultural place and interstitial postcapitalism as worthwhile subjects of

research but because also there is still much more to learn about what happened

around Totnes. Whilst I am confident that the meta-narrative and analysis are

reliable and confirmable, there are gaps to be filled and aspects of countercultural

practice to be explored in more depth. I plan to continue to maintain the project

blog that will provide a focus for the work to continue as an ongoing

collaborative piece of research. I also intend to publish a non-academic version

of the narrative, which might flush out new informants and material. However,

whilst I am aware that there is public interest in this story I am also conscious

that in doing so I am playing a role in the processes described in Chapter Six. By

creating and circulating new reputations and Secondspace imaginaries of the area

I am not only influencing individual’s spatial experience but potentially also

contributing to the ongoing construction of the milieu. This is perhaps an

example of the performative nature of academic work.

A final point is one that has already been mentioned previously: a focus on

lifestyles rather than institutions would have revealed different kinds of

postcapitalist activity, and perhaps more evidence of how certain individuals are

able to get ‘outside’ capitalism through informal or mutual economic activity.

Certainly there was some evidence of this, such as people who shared land to

grow food or lived ‘outside’ the housing market. Such an approach might have

found other such examples of ‘prosuming’ (Frankel 1987). However, such

lifestyles often seem limited by the ‘biographical availability’ (McAdams 1986)

of the individuals and their ability to resist what Jackson (2009) calls the ‘social

logic of consumerism’ that prevents postcapitalist lifestyles from being pursued. 79 Thus Chatterton and Pickerill (2010, 10) note how it was the ‘dole autonomy’

that enabled the punk and squatter scenes to thrive in the 1970s. Chapter Two

argued that Gibson-Graham’s diverse economy schematic can be regarded as a

hybrid of a number of different non-capitalist spaces and theories, encompassing

a mixture of ‘individual’ and ‘institutional’ economies. One question this

research raises is the extent to which the institutional aspects of this framework

79 See for example Gross’ (2009) work on Freegans in Oregon who state that they would not be able to live in the “cracks of society” if they had children or jobs.

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can be said to be ‘outside’ capitalism and thus how well the hybrid ‘diverse’

economy actually ‘holds together’ as a single analytical frame.

There is no doubt that a different theoretical framework would have led to a

different reading, and one which perhaps ‘found’ more examples of defensibly

postcapitalist spaces. Similarly if different metrics of evaluation had been used

the findings would have been different. For example, it seems plausible that if

the research had sought to measure ‘social capital’ it might have found high

levels amongst certain ‘sub-cultures’ of the milieu, as Onxy et al. (2005) did in

Maleney, Australia. Indeed a social capital lens might also shed further light on

the divisions between different cultures and groups, by highlighting its potential

‘dark side’ (Edwards and Onxy 2007). Whilst many of the postcapitalist

institutions might not support livelihoods directly it seems highly possible that

they contribute to participants’ well being. Understanding such processes would

have also portrayed them in a different light. However, this particular thesis is

premised on the argument that if we are to consider these institutions as

economic they have to make a meaningful contribution to livelihoods.

9.3: Future areas of research

This section seeks to address the questions of why this research matters. In doing

so it also outlines future possibilities in terms of research direction for both

research on countercultural places and interstitial postcapitalism.

9.3.1 Countercultural places

An overarching argument of this thesis is that the geographies of the

Counterculture, and countercultural places more generally, both deserve to be

taken more seriously and are worthy of academic scholarship. This research has

shown how such places are more complex than many accounts would suggest.

Indeed it has highlighted the existence of a form of countercultural place

(locality?) that has generally been absent from the academic literature. Thus I

would argue that there is the scope to explore other such countercultural places

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with the same broad lens, exploring the similarities and differences with the

processes that have created, and continue to sustain ‘Alternative’ Totnes.

Numerous examples exist: for example Stroud or Lewes in the UK. North

American cities such as Boulder, Portland and Eugene would be interesting case

studies. Similarly, the town of Orgiva in Southern Spain would be interesting,

not least because a number of Totnes residents moved there during the 1990s and

it has now developed its own reputation as an ‘alternative’ centre. Indeed, the

flows and connections that link various sites of countercultural practice is

another area of enquiry. Similarly, the way that such places change over time is

also a relevant strand of research. This would not only provide further linkages to

the theories of gentrification but also the extent to which such sites remain

‘countercultural’ over a longer period of time.

Further academic research in this area would hopefully lend credibility and

substance to the study of countercultural places and countercultural migration as

legitimate research interests. There is much that could be done to develop further

the work that has been started here about how such places should be understood

and how they come about, inevitably drawing on other explanatory theories that

have not featured within this thesis. In particular, further explorations of the

processes of homophily and its relevance in other case studies would be

enlightening, as would more exploration of the nature of different countercultural

milieus. Not least, there is the opportunity to explore more thoroughly the way in

which the Counterculture has (and continues) to shape place formation in the UK

and beyond. There is also much work to be done in exploring how the concept of

countercultural places ‘fits’ with other existing fields of geographic enquiry such

as migration studies (e.g. see Longhurst 2010b). There is also a small German

literature on alternative places (See Cox 1996) that although beyond my

language capabilities would no doubt provide some further useful insights.

As this research has illustrated, countercultural sites can function as sites of

grassroots social and ecological experimentation. The research illustrated how

countercultural social space creates the possibility for Foucauldian (1993)

‘subjugated knowledges’ to be expressed and developed. As has been illustrated,

such thinking is often driven by unconventional epistemologies and bounded

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rationalities. An argument that emerges from the thesis is that it is the overall

density and variety of ‘irrational’ knowledges is an important factor in creating a

space for such dialogue and ‘free-thinking’. In other words it is not possible to

create a space for ‘free-thinking’ without also having some ideas that are ‘wacky’

or ‘cranky’. As Fournier (2002, 194) has argued

The opening up of the conceptual space within which alternatives can be imagined relies on establishing a sense of estrangement, on making the ‘normal’ the currently possible, look strange, absurd, grotesque

Therefore, the fact that outlandish ideas exist within such places doesn’t mean

that all the ideas or indeed the place itself should be entirely dismissed as

irrelevant. Such ‘margins’ are significant because they are often the source of

radical ideas (Worpole 1999). However, it is argued here that many professional

knowledge producers, including scholars, steer clear, afraid of being infected or

tainted with the ridicule that might come with taking such knowledges

‘seriously’. This is not to argue that all such knowledges should be accepted at

face value, but nor should they all equally be dismissed out of hand. Many areas

of countercultural practice and discourse detailed in this thesis have since

become much more widely accepted despite initial hostility from established

networks of knowledge production. Some work has partly recognised a

relationship between counterculturalism and innovation (e.g. Florida 2000) but

there is therefore much more scope to research how such places function as sites

of social innovation and ‘uninvited dialogue’ and to understand such processes in

more detail. Such work would contribute to the relatively un-researched uneven

geography of social innovation (Amin et al. 2002; Mulgan et al. 2007).

9.3.2 Interstitial postcapitalism

This thesis used the poststructural theoretical work of J.K. Gibson-Graham as a

starting point for an empirical exploration of interstitial postcapitalism. Their

work has been advocated as a mechanism for exploring the potential of

grassroots ‘alternative’ economic activity (Leyshon and Lee 2003; Leyshon

2005; Amin 2009) and continues to provide the theoretical inspiration for

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academic work that seeks to ‘rethink’ the economy (Harris 2009; Gross 2009;

Gall 2009).

Overall, this thesis supports some of the main theoretical thrusts of their work:

To define the economy as a homogenous ‘capitalist’ totality is to ignore the

diversity of practices and institutions that exist, and that could be part of some as

yet to be undefined future. An important contribution of their work is the way in

which it ‘opens up’ the economy (and ‘capitalism’) highlighting that

postcapitalism can exist across a range of economic ‘dimensions’ as illustrated

by their diverse economy schematic. Indeed the empirical work within this thesis

highlights the way in which ‘capitalist’ processes both support and undermine

postcapitalist possibility. Breaking down a monolithic capitalist system and

understanding it as a range of processes / institutions / tendencies / relationships /

ethics is certainly a productive way of recognising and exploring new economic

possibilities. Capitalocentric economic discourses often obscure this diversity,

and the economic possibilities that may exist outside conventional ‘readings’ of

the economy. The research supports their assertion of the importance of counter-

discourses, reflected in the way that postcapitalist institutions have emerged from

countercultural ‘discourse-fields’. Indeed, the research highlighted how and why

countercultural places can engender (but also limit) postcapitalist development.

Their recognition of the micro-political processes necessary to build

postcapitalist possibilities is perhaps their most original contribution to this area

of work, and the research highlights some of the issues surrounding such micro-

political work.

However, the thesis also supports some of the critiques of Gibson-Graham and

more widely, of interstitial postcapitalism. Not least, that the articulation of new

economic discourses and ontologies may be a necessary precursor for opening up

postcapitalist possibility but it is, in many ways, not sufficient. Extending this

argument further there is the danger that discourse that ‘reveals’ the existence of

such practices and institutions exceeds their economic significance. This is

certainly a criticism that has been made of LETS community currencies (Stott

1996; Aldridge and Patterson 2002) and also organic agriculture (Smith 2006).

Ironically, this is the same problem that Gibson-Graham first sought to address in

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their critique of structural Marxist ‘Capitalism’: that dominant discourses can

obscure or distort economic ‘reality’. Therefore this research suggests a need for

reflexivity about the way in which ‘progressive’ discourses can also obscure,

distort or even ‘oppress’. Indeed, it also provides an explanation of why they

distort – because those who build alternative economic institutions are not just

engaged in a process of technocratic administration, they are also attempting to

expand shared ontologies. Such projects are cognitive projects. They are battles

for belief.

Gibson-Graham note that many of their interlocutors want them to provide

lasting outcomes, visible effects and durability (Community Economies

Collective 2001, 31) framed within this thesis as the existence of ‘coherence’.

Unfortunately this thesis does not support their argument that postcapitalism is

‘out there’, coherent and proliferative. It suggests that a localised countercultural

milieu does not enable community-based initiatives to transcend the problematic

economics of small-scale postcapitalist activity. It argued that certain aspects of

institutional embeddedness were more significant than the cultural embeddedness

of the milieu. Place does matter, but not always in the ways that the literature

suggests. As previously discussed the failure of many of the postcapitalist

institutions to support livelihoods in this case study fundamentally relates to their

inability to create economic surplus either within or outside the market. The

general necessity to obtain financial capital to sustain livelihoods does raise

questions about the suitability of Gibson-Graham’s work in extensively

monetised economies of the global North. As Amin et al. (2002, 125) have

argued:

The pervasive reach of exchange-value society makes it increasingly difficult to imagine and legitimate non-market forms of organisation and provision.

It may be that their theoretical work has more relevance within the post-

development context of the global South within which some of their action

research has been conducted and which have a greater extent of residual use-

value orientated and mutual economic activity (e.g. Gibson-Graham 2005;

McKay et al. 2007; The Communities Economies Collective and Katherine

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Gibson 2009). Therefore, as has already been argued above, if Gibson-Graham’s

work is to be used as a foundation for exploring postcapitalist possibility within a

Northern context then their (or other) theories of interstitial capitalism need to be

extended to understand the context in which grassroots experiments take place.

Acknowledging the relevance of institutional structures and tendencies that

undermine the viability of postcapitalist institutions and practices does not

necessarily mean believing that such tendencies cannot be resisted or that

‘systems’ cannot be changed. Whether or not such an approach is compatible

with Gibson-Graham’s weak theoretical approach is debatable, but it concurs

with Mittelman’s (2005, 21) suggestion that both utopian visions and critical

realist analysis are necessary to develop what he calls ‘grounded utopia’: ‘an

imagined alternative that has never existed, yet with a future or futures rooted in

real historical tendencies and embodied practices’. Indeed, post-structuralism

points to the way in which such seemingly solid structures are actually socially

and discursively created, foregrounding their potential impermanence. In other

words, it is only by theorising and understanding such dynamics that strategies

can be developed to resist and change ‘systemic’ tendencies. The sections below

suggest three areas of further work that would strengthen interstitial postcapitalist

theories.

(i) Theorising financial postcapitalism

This thesis argues that Gibson-Graham overlook the importance of financial

capital. It therefore offers some support to ontologies of capitalism which stress

the significance of the financial system and ‘capitalist’ credit money (e.g. Mellor

2005, 2009; Magnusson 2008; Ingham 2004), This was a critique of their work

that was highlighted in Chapter Two and many of the collective postcapitalist

institutions in this case study struggled to generate significant financial surplus to

sustain themselves. Therefore if postcapitalist space is to exist within the realms

of financial circuits of value then clearer distinction needs to be made between

those circuits of financial capital which are ‘capitalist’, and those which are in

some sense postcapitalist or non-capitalist. The latter might include circuits of

value that are created by complementary currencies, community finance or social

markets. Such work would enable the refutation of the argument (partly upheld

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by this research) that much postcapitalist possibility is actually underpinned by

‘capitalist’ financial circuits and surplus. For postcapitalist spaces to expand this

thesis argues that there is a need for such circuits to cohere and expand rather

than reflect isolated instances of postcapitalist practice. There is a body of work

that already engages with such questions drawing on the New Economics (e.g.

Espen Stoknes 2009) and the work of people such as Silvio Gesell, who proposed

a ‘market economy without capitalism’ (Onken 2000). 80 Theorists who are

interested in developing interstitial approaches to postcapitalism need to draw on

such work to develop a more comprehensive theorisation of how postcapitalist

institutions can generate the necessary surplus without depending on ‘capitalist’

flows.

(ii) Theorising the state and maximising academic ‘leverage’

Gibson-Graham’s diverse economy schematic is a useful heuristic for showing

the existence of economic activity that exists outside the conventional discourses

of economy. As such it is another ‘voice’ that raises questions about how we

conceptualise and ‘do’ the economy. For example, applying the diverse

economies schematic would provide a productive insight into the way in which

communities such as Landmatters are attempting to develop ecologically benign

neo-subsistence lifestyles. Whilst this particular research project has found that

some of these ‘non-capitalist’ institutions struggle to meet material needs and

sustain livelihoods it does not mean that they do not necessarily have the

potential to be more effective. However, if Gibson-Graham (2008) aim to make

such postcapitalist practices more ‘credible’ then this research therefore points to

the need to theorise and demonstrate more thoroughly the real way in which non-

market and use-value focused practices can make a meaningful contribution to

individuals’ livelihoods. Ultimately, as this thesis has argued, such ‘autonomous’

postcapitalist practices need to make meaningful contributions to individual’s

livelihoods (Chatterton and Pickerill 2010). Such analysis requires the

development of more empirically grounded case studies and successful action

research interventions. 80 Gesell has been an important intellectual influence in the German Complementary Currency movement see Theil (forthcoming).

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However, as argued in Chapter Seven, it may be that institutional embeddedness

undermines the potentiality of such experiments. Therefore academic theory

needs to be extended to how ‘structural’ factors (taxation, planning systems,

legal reforms etc) could be reworked to support such postcapitalist practices.

This involves a more thorough understanding of the state and its relationship to

interstitial postcapitalism, something that is generally lacking (Wright 2010).

Indeed, the state plays a critical role in the functioning of the monetary system,

and, some argue, in the maintenance of the social economy (Mendell 2009). Its

role as an enabler or barrier to interstitial postcapitalism therefore needs much

further exploration. Many theories of capitalism implicate the state as a key

institution (e.g. Harvey 2010; Ingham 2008). An analysis that suggests that many

democracies are actually plutocracies would therefore suggest that democratic

reform might be a precursor to interstitial postcapitalism (e.g. Gorringe 1999,

102 – 104). An alternative line of academic enquiry and activism – which would

perhaps be compatible with Gibson-Graham’s – approach would be to try and

begin thinking about the state as a hybrid, rather than a monolithic actor.

Perhaps, one starting point would be to begin thinking about the state (and its

functions) as a set of commons. Rebuilding and rethinking the commons has

become a key strand of postcapitalist thought and activism (e.g. Donahue 1999;

Tomales Bay Institute 2006; Barnes 2006). Conceptualising the state in this way

might have a number of advantages: It provides a way of breaking down the state

from being a uniform and singular actor. It puts focus on how the commons are

managed (i.e. processes of democratic control) and what kinds of commons are

provided. It also provides a way of theorising the state that does not assume that

it is a consistent ‘capitalist’ actor and could lead to engagement with the

literature on how commons can be successfully managed (e.g. Ostrom 1990).

Devolution of political power and improvement of the democratic process could

be important aspects of allowing postcapitalist institutions to prosper (Fairlie

2009).

Furthermore, conceptualising and engaging with the state is surely an

opportunity to exercise the performative power of academic discourse in the way

that Gibson-Graham (2008) advocate. Whilst it may lack the romance of

308

engaging directly with grassroots practices, it might be that the ‘expert’ voices of

academics can have a greater impact on constructing postcapitalist futures, by

engaging with the intricate and often frustrating mechanisms of the policy

process. Thus academics might play a role in supporting the development of

counter-hegemonic ‘discourse coalitions’ which allow certain forms of social

innovation to gain purchase (Moulaert et al. 2007). It maybe that ‘small

victories’ in such arenas have a far greater effect on the proliferation of

postcapitalist practices than an action research intervention. Therefore

understanding how best to maximise academic impact and ‘leverage’ in support

of grassroots projects is an important part of any interstitial strategy that is being

led by academics.

(iii) Understanding the diffusion of social and ecological innovation

As noted in Chapter Two, Gibson-Graham draw inspiration from the global

diffusion of feminist thought. This research suggests that theories of interstitial

postcapitalism could greatly benefit from understanding of how ideas, social

innovations, institutions and practices actually proliferate. Whilst the margins

and grassroots are often romanticised (Samers 2005) it is also true that a great

deal of ‘taken for granted’ social practice started as a novel or marginal activity

(Mulgan 2006; Ward 1986). Understanding the factors that support or undermine

such diffusion therefore seems to be a useful line of enquiry that would enhance

theories of interstitial postcapitalism. It offers a different lens through which to

view social change from that which anti-capitalism has normally been viewed,

e.g. social movement theories or Marxist analysis. For example, with reference to

the type of institution examined by this thesis – the spread of Farmer’s Markets

would be an example of a ‘grassroots’ institution which could be explored

through an diffusion lens. Not only did these spread rapidly in the late 1990s but

have also been theorised as ‘alternative’ economic spaces (see Holloway and

Kneafsey 2002).

Furthermore, the diffusion of innovation literature also might explain how and

why certain innovations don’t diffuse. For example, the concept of homophily is

a factor in the diffusion of innovation (Rogers 2003). Certainly, Chapter Eight

309

provided a localised example of why there were homophilic barriers to the

adoption of certain practices or ideas. Finally, linking postcapitalism and

innovation also opens up avenues where new technology is being used to open

up new possibilities such as cyberspace (Escobar 2004). Indeed the Internet is a

site whereby some of the tenets of capitalist accumulation are being challenged

by the Open Source movement and ‘disruptive’ innovation such as file sharing

and downloading. Analysing these trends and activities would provide rich data

on the way in which potentially postcapitalist practices spread and attempts to

regulate them out of existence.

More work in all three of these areas would strengthen the theorising and

practical development of an interstitial postcapitalism. Such lessons could then

be usefully applied to an area of postcapitalist research and activism that is

currently relevant within a UK context: the theorising of a steady state or

‘degrowth’ economy (Jackson 2009; Fournier 2008; Sustainable Development

Commission 2009; New Economics Foundation 2010). In his analysis of the

problems of capitalist growth Jackson (2009, 130) touches on possibilities of the

‘Cinderella economy’ that has some similarities common with the economic

activities valorised by interstitial postcapitalists:

…the seeds for such an economy may already exist in local or community based social enterprises: community energy projects, local farmers’ markets, slow food co-operatives, sports clubs, libraries, community health and fitness centres, local repair and maintenance services, craft workshops, writing centres, water sports, community music and drama, local training and skills.

Ultimately Jackson’s (2009) approach is of ‘top down’ systemic change,

reminiscent of some other approaches to postcapitalism (e.g. Korten 1999; Hines

2000). As Fournier (2002) has argued there are several reasons to be sceptical

about the likelihood of such ‘top down’ strategies for change succeeding.

However, this thesis also questions the potential of interstitial strategies that

focus only on grassroots activism. It therefore suggests the need for some kind of

middle ground between the ‘utopian’ grassroots postcapitalist possibility

represented by Gibson-Graham micro-political approach and the similarly

‘utopian’ top-down macro-systemic approaches. Such a ‘meso’ approach needs

310

to recognise that grassroots initiatives offer ‘spaces of possibility’ (Fournier

2002) whist also seeking to understand and overcome the barriers, tendencies and

dynamics that undermine such spaces. Such an approach also needs to recognise

and acknowledge the existence and possibilities of non-market economic activity

whilst also acknowledging the ongoing significance of financial capital in many

spheres of life. This thesis has illustrated how a plural approach to capitalism

can provide a foundation for exploring different economic possibilities. However

those who are seeking to theorise and develop interstitial approaches to

postcapitalism also need to ‘pluralise’ their strategic repertoire. One consequence

of the way in which this thesis ‘opens up’ the Counterculture was to highlight the

range of political strategies that were pursued. Similarly, theorists of interstitial

postcapitalist need to expand their repertoire of intervention beyond grassroots

and oppositional political activism. Whilst activism is a recognised strategy of

challenging the capitalist ‘system’ it is not the only lever of social change.

Indeed, the question of how grassroots postcapitalism might engender wider

systemic change is a question that interstitial postcapitalist theorists have yet to

answer but one that they cannot afford to ignore.

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Appendix A: Interview Topic Guides !

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Interviews with pioneering businesses These interviews are aimed at businesses which seem to be experimental or pioneering. The purpose of the interviews is to explore their relationship with the area, and the factors that help and hinder their ability to experiment. Preamble

! Introduce purpose of research ! Get consent form signed ! Talk about confidentiality ! Check if they are happy to be taped ! Give overview of what interview will cover and timescale

Ice Breaker: Can you start by telling me a bit about yourself and how you came to be in the Totnes area? Section 1: Background and history of business

1. When was the business started? 2. Why was the business started? 3. Why did you believe the business would work? 4. Can you describe what the business does in your own word? 5. What is the legal structure? 6. How many employees? 7. Does the business have an internet presence / mail order? 8. (If yes to 6) What is the split proportion of business through the shop and

through the website? 9. Are there other branches of the business? 10. (If yes to 8) What is the difference between the Totnes branch and the

other branches? 11. Are you a member of any kind of business networks? Why are these

important? 12. [If retail]…How do you select which products to sell? 13. What are your views on certification (e.g. Soil Association)? Does it matter

to you when you are choosing products? Section 2: Local economic and social context

14. Why is the business based in Totnes? 15. What are the benefits of being based in Totnes? 16. And what are the disadvantages? 17. In what ways has Totnes changed since you have been trading here? 18. Who do you regard as your competitors? 19. Which other local businesses do you do business with? 20. How important is the tourist industry to the financial health of your

business? 21. What are your views on the Totnes economy, especially the town centre? 22. How has Totnes influenced your own beliefs and values? 23. What impact do you think the business has had on the area? 24. Has the business had any relationship with the Dartington Trust?

(2a) For consumer focused businesses:

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25. Do you have an idea of the geographical market in which you operate (e.g. how far a field do your customers come from?)

26. Who are your customers? [prompt for discussion – incomers? the affluent? New Age? Students? Devonians?]

27. Why do your customers use your business as opposed to a rival? 28. How diverse is your customer base? 29. How wealthy do you think your customers are? 30. What do you know about their values or beliefs?

(2b) For non-consumer businesses:

31. Can you describe the geographical market in which you operate (e.g. how far a field do your customers come from?)

32. What do you know about your customer base? 33. What do you think motivates your customers to use your business?

Section 4: Business ethics

34. Does the business have any specific ethical values or values? 35. How are these put into practice? 36. Does the business ever encounter tensions between the need to make a

profit and its ethical values? 37. How do you manage these tensions? 38. Does being in this area make it easier to manage this tension? 39. Would you describe the business as capitalist? 40. Do you believe it is necessary to grow your business?

Section 5: Community economic practices

41. Does the business, or has it in the past, engaged in any co-operative economic activity? [If yes, then explore…]

42. Does the business, or has it in the past, engaged in any non-market activity (e.g. barter)?

43. Does the business, or has it in the past, engaged in any community economic activity? [use examples, - if so use questions from Research Theme three]

44. Why did / didn’t the business participate in the Totnes Pound initiative? 45. What do you think about the potential of the Totnes Pound project? 46. What do you think the significance of the Totnes Pound is? 47. Why do you think that something like the Totnes Pound can exist here?

Postscript

1. Anything that you were expecting me to cover that I didn’t? 2. Which other businesses do you think have been pioneering? 3. Which other people that you think I should speak to?

! Thank them for their time and assistance

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!!Interviews with Community Economic experiments These are interviews with people who have been involved in community economic experiments and initiatives. These interviews are likely to be less structured and follow lines of discussion around the main issues. Not all the questions will be relevant to all initiatives. Section 1: Background and history of initiative

4. When was the initiative started? 5. Why was it started? 6. What is the legal structure? 7. Who are/were the key people involved? 8. How many people are involved? [staff? volunteers? members?] 9. What are/were the aims of the initiative? 10. What success has it had? 11. What problems has it encountered? [possible discussion point: resources /

size / suspicion from wider community] 12. How is the enterprise resourced (money / volunteers)? 13. If volunteers: How do they find the time to be involved? 14. Has it had sufficient resources? If not, why? 15. How important was individual leadership to the project? 16. What do you think the economic significance of the initiative is? 17. What about other types of significance? 18. What kinds of economic activity does the initiative engage in? 19. Is there any paperwork or reports on the activities of the project? 20. What made you believe that the initiative would work? 21. How did the people involved create the personal space to do the project?

Section 2: Importance of Totnes and the locality

22. Why is the initiative based in Totnes? 23. What geographical area does it cover? 24. Do you know where the idea came from? 25. What are the advantages of being in this area? [Possible suggestions:

likeminded people? critical mass?] 26. What are the disadvantages of being in this area? [Possible suggestions:

divided community? too much going on? transient population? lack of commitment? self actualisation v co-operative action?]

27. In what ways has Totnes changed since the initiatives started? 28. What impact do you think the initiative has had on the area? 29. Have they received help from other businesses or other projects? 30. Has their been any support from local authorities? 31. Has the initiative had any support or relationship with the Dartington Trust? 32. Are they part of any important networks? 33. Does the initiative get support from any other local projects or local

businesses? 34. Have any local sources of information been important or useful? 35. How has Totnes influenced your own beliefs and values?

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Section 3: Ethics and economic activity 36. Does the enterprise have any specific ethical values? 37. Is there any conflict over these? 38. Where did these come from? 39. How are these put into practice? 40. Does the enterprise ever encounter tensions between the need to

generate an income and other ethical values? 41. How are these tensions resolved?

Postscript

42. Anything that you were expecting me to cover that I didn’t? 43. What other experiments are you aware of? 44. Which other people that you think I should speak to?

! Thank them for their time and assistance ! Explain what will happen next

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Context Interviews: The making of an alternative place These are interviews which are on a specific aspect of the different factors which provide the context for some of the alternative practices that have emerged in the area. The purpose of these interviews is to try and understand the evolution of the different strands and their relationship to each other. In particular, to explore the relationship with the Dartington Hall utopian experiment. Preamble

! Introduce purpose of research ! Get consent form signed ! Talk about confidentiality ! Check if they are happy to be taped ! Give overview of what interview will cover and timescale

Ice Breaker: Can you start by telling me a bit about yourself and how you came to be in the Totnes area? These interviews are likely to be about one exploring or more of the following topics: - The roots and development of ‘new age’ culture - The diversity of spiritual practices - The growth of the complementary health sector - History of alternative ways of living (e.g. shared / low impact / etc) - Progressive education - The evolution of the Dartington Experiment - History political activism - The history of community activism - The history of environmental politics and activism - The history of arts and crafts and artisan culture - Role of local authorities - The development of local agriculture - The physical development of the town - The development of the local economy and tourism These interviews will be relatively unstructured and will focus on the particular topic relevant to the person in question. Some generic questions may also be asked such as these:

1. What do you think is ‘alternative’ about Totnes? 2. How would you describe the Totnes economy? 3. What relationship do you think there is between the alternativeness and

the economy? 4. What connections and networks do you think are important to Totnes? 5. How would you describe the community of Totnes? 6. How has Totnes changed over time since you have known it? 7. What factors do you think are the most important in shaping Totnes? 8. How has Totnes influenced your own beliefs and values?

Postscript

45. Anything that you were expecting me to cover that I didn’t?

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46. Which other people that you think I should speak to?

! Thank them for their time and assistance ! Explain what will happen next

!

! "#$!

Appendix B: Extract from master matrix !

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!""#$%&'()*(+',-./,(0-12(&$,#-3&#4(2.,-&'(((((

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