Good Comms | Communication. Culture. Change.

What the birthplace of the Slow Food Movement taught me about SLOW Leadership

Reflections from Osteria del Boccondivino, the birthplace of the Slow Food Movement in Bra, Italy.

I thought that Bra was such a funny name to call a place. Especially from the perspective of a woman. So I suggested to Team V that we should go there as it is only a few minutes by train from Alba, Italy where we were based for a few days. And what an amazing discovery did we make! Bra, in Italy, is the birthplace of the Slow Food Movement. And I’m writing this from the exact restaurant where the movement began in the 1980’s. I honestly believe that’s cool.

What started as a protest against fast food culture has become something much deeper: a philosophy about honouring ingredients, respecting traditions, and creating space for authentic connection around shared tables.

As I savour my meal in this historic place, I can’t help but see the profound parallels between slow food principles and what I’m calling “slow leadership.” Both movements ask us to slow down, pay attention, and recognise that the best outcomes emerge when we honour what each contributor brings to the table.

Macro shot of a snail on a green leaf, highlighting its spiral shell and natural patterns.
The Slow Food Movement started in Bra, Italy. It also presents a framework for SLOW leadership.

The ingredient philosophy of leadership

Carlo Petrini, slow food’s founder, revolutionized how we think about ingredients. Rather than standardising everything into uniform, fast production, slow food celebrates the unique terroir – the specific conditions that make each ingredient special. A San Marzano tomato isn’t better or worse than other varieties; it’s distinct, with its own story and optimal conditions for flourishing.

Slow leaders understand this same principle. Every team member brings their own “terroir” – their background, perspective, experiences, and ways of thinking. The goal isn’t to homogenise these differences into a standard corporate flavor, but to understand how each person’s unique qualities can contribute to something richer and more complex than any single ingredient could create alone.

When we rush to “blend everyone in” or default to dominant cultural norms, we’re essentially creating the organisational equivalent of processed food – efficient, perhaps, but lacking the depth and richness that comes from honoring individual distinctiveness.

Seasonal leadership: creating the right conditions

Slow food teaches us that you can’t force a tomato to ripen in winter or expect spring vegetables in autumn. There are natural rhythms and optimal conditions for everything to flourish.

Slow leaders recognize this wisdom in human dynamics. Some team members thrive when given space for independent deep thinking; others flourish in collaborative brainstorming sessions. Some need time to process before contributing to discussions; others think out loud. Some bring their best ideas in structured meetings; others in casual conversations.

Rather than imposing a one-size-fits-all approach to participation and communication, slow leaders create multiple “seasons” within their organizations – different types of meetings, varied communication channels, diverse pathways for contribution. They understand that psychological safety isn’t about making everyone comfortable in the same way, but about creating conditions where different types of people can bring their authentic selves and best thinking.

The art of patient cultivation

Perhaps most importantly, both slow food and slow leadership require patience. You can’t rush fermentation, just as you can’t fast-track the deep cultural changes that create truly inclusive environments.

In the restaurant where I’m sitting, the chef didn’t hurry the ragu that’s been simmering for hours. The flavors developed slowly, each ingredient maintaining its character while contributing to something greater. This is exactly what happens when organizations commit to the long, careful work of building inclusive cultures.

Surface-level diversity initiatives are like fast food – they might fill an immediate need, but they lack the depth and sustainability that comes from patient, intentional cultivation. Real cultural change requires the slow, steady work of examining systems, questioning assumptions, listening deeply, and allowing new ways of working to develop organically.

Lessons from the piazza

During our evening passeggiata through Italian piazzas, I watched the natural rhythm of Italian social life unfold. Different generations, different personalities, different energy levels – all sharing the same public space, each contributing to the vibrant atmosphere in their own way. No one was trying to make everyone walk at the same pace or have the same conversations.

This is what slow leadership environments feel like: spaces where different working styles, communication preferences, and ways of contributing can coexist and create something richer than uniformity ever could.

Building on the SLOW leadership movement

The slow leadership movement has been growing quietly across different domains. Thought leaders have recognized that pausing for reflection improves decision-making. Academic researchers have shown how slowing down creates space for marginalised voices and social justice. What’s been missing is a framework that honours individual uniqueness while being practical for everyday business leadership.

That’s where the SLOW framework comes in – building on these insights while adding the wisdom of slow food: that the best results come from savouring what makes each ingredient special.

The SLOW leadership framework

Sitting here in the birthplace of a movement that changed how the world thinks about food, I can see a clear framework emerging for how we might change how we think about leadership:

Case study: Carlo Petrini as SLOW leader

Before we talk about revolution, it’s worth recognizing that Carlo Petrini himself exemplifies slow leadership principles in how he built this global movement.

Petrini savored what was already there – the rich food traditions of his Piemontese region that were being threatened by globalization. Instead of dismissing local culture as “old-fashioned,” he recognized its unique terroir and inherent value worth preserving.

He layered different seasons and approaches for the movement to grow organically. It wasn’t just protests against McDonald’s opening in Rome’s Piazza di Spagna. It became education programs, policy advocacy, local networks (called “convivia”), international conferences, and eventually the University of Gastronomic Sciences. Multiple pathways allowed different types of people – chefs, farmers, activists, academics, consumers – to contribute in their own way.

Petrini opted for patient cultivation over quick wins. Nearly 40 years later, the slow food movement continues to grow and evolve. He could have tried to create rapid, flashy change, but instead chose the long game of gradually shifting consciousness about food, agriculture, and community – understanding that real cultural change takes time.

And he welcomed the full process, embracing complexity rather than oversimplifying. The movement isn’t just about eating differently – it’s about understanding the connections between food, environment, biodiversity, social justice, and local economies. Petrini welcomed these interconnections rather than trying to reduce them to easy marketing slogans.

Most remarkably, Petrini demonstrated that you can lead a global movement without bulldozing over local differences. Slow Food International celebrates the distinctiveness of each region’s food culture rather than imposing standardized approaches. A Slow Food convivium in Japan operates differently than one in Brazil or Kenya – and that’s exactly the point.

Petrini showed that when you slow down enough to truly honor what already exists and create conditions for it to flourish, you can spark change that spreads organically around the world. From one small Italian town to a global movement – that’s slow leadership creating lasting impact.

In other words

The slow food movement started with a simple recognition: when we rush, we lose something essential. The same is true for leadership. When we slow down enough to truly see and honor what each person brings, we create conditions for something remarkable to emerge – not despite our differences, but because of them.

This isn’t about being inefficient or indecisive. It’s about being intentional. It’s about recognizing that the best teams, like the best meals, can’t be rushed into existence. They develop through patient attention to quality, respect for natural rhythms, and deep appreciation for what makes each element special.

As I prepare to leave this region that taught the world to slow down and savor, I’m taking with me more than just memories of excellent meals. I’m carrying a new way of thinking about leadership – one that honors the terroir of every person, creates seasons for different types of contribution, opts for patient cultivation, and welcomes the full richness of the human experience.

The slow food movement began here with the simple act of savoring a meal. Perhaps the slow leadership movement can begin with the equally simple act of savoring the people we have the privilege to work with.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a passeggiata to join.

References

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