I have never been good at being told what to do.
I grew up on a farm at Dunneworthy, near Ararat, where independence isnāt a lifestyle choice. Nobody is coming to fix the pump. You work it out, or it doesnāt get done. But nobody on a farm is truly alone either. They turn up when the shed burns down, and everyone knows who pulls their weight and who doesnāt. Self-reliance and community werenāt opposites. They were the same habit, seen from two sides.
Rugby taught me the same thing. I played at state level, then semi-professionally in England, until a broken leg ended it. Fifteen stubborn individuals only become anything when they agree to play for each other. The best players I knew were the most independent-minded and the most committed to the side.
Then I spent fifteen years in banking, and learnt the opposite lesson. A large organisation offers neither independence nor community. You donāt govern yourself, and you donāt really belong to anything you help govern. You comply. Decisions arrive from somewhere above, wrapped in process, owned by no one you can argue with. I chafed under it.
It took me a while to realise the Greeks had already named what I was looking for.
Free, together
To the ancient Greeks, independence and community were not in tension. Freedom, eleutheria, meant not having a master: not being a slave, and not living under a tyrant. But it was not the modern freedom to be left alone. A free man was free because he took part. He spoke in the assembly, argued, voted, and then lived under laws he and his fellow citizens had made. Aristotle called us politikon zÅon, creatures of the polis. Outside a community, he said, a man is either a beast or a god.
But the Greek idea had a blind spot. Citizenship was for a minority, and women, slaves and foreigners were shut out. But the core insight survives: you cannot be free alone, and you cannot be free in a community you have no say in running.
The new tyrants
Look at where most communities live now.
The local footy club runs on a Facebook group and a WhatsApp chat. The residentsā association keeps its members in a spreadsheet on someoneās Google Drive. The choir, the surf club, the parentsā committee: all of them tenants, on land owned by a handful of companies on the other side of the world.
Those companies are not malicious. But they are masters. They decide who can see a post, what may be said, which members are reachable, what the data is worth and to whom. They change the rules without a vote. When a communityās page is shut, its group throttled or its history lost, there is no assembly to appeal to. The Greeks had a word for rule like that, and it was not democracy.
We have rebuilt the tyranny the Greeks fought to escape, and we did it for convenience.
Self-government is a practice
I founded Princes Park Touch to have fun, and it became something more. Today it has more than 760 members, and 500 to 600 people play each season. It runs on its own infrastructure: its own website, its own member records, its own communications, with no Facebook group holding the keys. Members can see the rules. The club answers to them, and every year the committee reports to them at the AGM.
It is not frictionless. Self-government never is. People have to turn up, argue, accept outcomes they voted against, and hold each other to the standards they set. That is the price of freedom, and it is cheaper than the alternative.
That is why I build LocalHero. It started in 2016 as a way to link local content to local people. It has become a platform that lets community organisations own what they depend on: their website, their members, their data, and increasingly their AI tools. Because a community that does not control its own infrastructure cannot govern itself.
Independence needs community, and community needs independence
I still dislike being told what to do by people I didnāt choose and canāt remove. But the cure for that was never isolation. It was building communities worth belonging to, and making sure they belong to their members.
The Greeks understood that the free individual and the self-governing community are one thing, not two. Online, we have forgotten it. We traded the assembly for the feed, and citizenship for a terms-of-service checkbox.
We can take it back. It starts one organisation, one community at a time.






