Patrick Nash On Lessons Learned After 40 Years Of Building Social Enterprises Inspiring Lasting Change

Leaving school in 1975, Patrick Nash worked his passage on a cargo ship from Liverpool to Melbourne, Australia. After spending nine months travelling around the country and finishing university in 1980, he set off on his own on a journey around north and central Africa.

After a potentially fatal close encounter with elephants, being thrown in jail in Niger, and accidentally travelling with soldiers joining a coup, he was struck by the generosity and kindness of the people he met along the way.

Returning home, he became part of the team that set up one of the UK’s largest vegetarian food wholesale cooperatives. Later, he went on to develop an eco-village at a spiritual community in the north of Scotland. In 1999, Patrick set up the largest workplace counselling service in the UK, Teacherline, along with charities and social enterprises that worked in education to promote healthy working environments.

In 2005, while setting up a contact centre enterprise to create jobs, he relocated to the Welsh Valleys, an area of high unemployment. When he left 16 years later Connect Assist employed more than 400 staff, providing 24/7 support to thousands of people each day facing challenging circumstances including mental health issues, poverty and debt, asylum seeking and more.

After 40 years as a social entrepreneur, Patrick has reinvented himself as an author, coach and traveller again. His first book Creating Social Enterprise, My story and what I learned published in 2023, tells the story of his career as a social entrepreneur along with useful lessons he learned in the process. His second book, Shots Across the Water tells the story of his epic travels across north and central Africa.

Patrick discusses his extraordinary 40-year journey building a myriad of impactful organisations, the importance of centring compassion and generosity in leadership, and why aligning mission with commercial viability is essential to creating sustainable, values-driven social enterprises.

Highlights from the interview (listen to the podcast for full details)

[Indio Myles] - To start off, can you please share a bit about your background and what led to your passion for creating impactful social enterprises and travelling across the world?

[Patrick Nash] - As I got into my late teens, I became very interested in the environmental movement. I started going on demonstrations—first against nuclear weapons and then against nuclear power, which was a significant issue in the mid-1970s.

I even took my younger sister to a demonstration in London once, and we got completely kettled—surrounded by police and horses. I had to drag her into a pub and ask the landlord if there was a back door so we could get out. I wasn't so much terrified of being arrested, but more about what my father would say if he found out!

At university, I became deeply involved in the environmental movement there as well. I attended a range of demonstrations and even wrote little newspapers. That’s really where it all began. Then, I went on this trip to Africa that you mentioned in the introduction. A lot of extraordinary things happened on that journey, but two experiences, in particular, stand out as pivotal moments for what came next.

Firstly, I met a British traveller named Rob, who I ended up travelling with for a good portion of the trip. He had worked for an organisation in Britain called Nova Wholefoods, which is a workers' cooperative that wholesales whole foods in the north of England. That idea stuck in my head.

But what really made a lasting impression was travelling through the central parts of Africa—places like the Congo Rainforest, Central African Republic, and parts of Uganda. Rob and I predominantly travelled on foot and hitchhiked when we needed to cover more ground and avoid overstaying our visas.

Almost every night, we were invited to stay in a village—sometimes in people’s huts, sometimes sleeping outside. They would feed us, and after the meal, they'd often ask us, “Can you talk to our young people?” They were keen to hear from someone who had experienced life in the West.

Many believed that reaching places like Paris, Brussels or London would mean instant wealth. Of course, we know that's not necessarily the case, so we found ourselves trying to explain the reality of being a migrant from Central Africa to Northern Europe, while still encouraging their ambition.

That experience gave me a deep sense of community and a real awareness of how the times were changing. When I got back to the UK after about ten months of travelling, I just knew I didn’t want a typical career. I wanted to do something that aligned with what I believed in. At the time, I was a vegetarian, and I felt inspired to return to Bristol, where I’d been to university, and set up a whole foods wholesale business.

On my second day back in Bristol, I met someone who was working in the same space, and together we launched the business. I stayed for about three and a half years. While it wasn’t a long time, we managed to grow the business from nothing in 1980 to a turnover of around three million pounds per year within just a couple of years. It grew incredibly fast and was an absolute rollercoaster.

We didn’t take holidays, barely had weekends off, and usually only took Sunday mornings for ourselves. It was what you’d now call a bootstrapped start-up, and it was exciting. I was running on adrenaline the whole time and absolutely loved it. A lot of what I learned about starting up, growing, and leading a business came from those intense three and a half years. It was extraordinary, though I ended up utterly burnt out.

Could you please share some of your work and how you've dedicated your life to driving change across different problem areas and in uplifting vulnerable communities?

The interesting thing is that I just did what was in front of me. A lot of my friends and family often ask, “Did you have a plan or a strategy for your life?” The answer is a resounding no. What I did was, when something was coming to an end, I would get a hunch about what might be emerging next.

By the time I reached my thirties, I realised I was someone who could establish and grow things. I’d learned some of the skills to do that not through academia or formal training, but literally by being on the job. That suits my personality. I’m an ‘on-the-job’ learner, though I know that’s not the case for everyone.

I was in Nova Whole Foods for about four and a half years altogether, and then I went to work for one of our customers, a small cooperative in South Wales, an area I love and eventually returned to years later. After that, I moved to Scotland, to what seemed at the time like a weird and wacky community.

Actually, it was my wife who was keen to go there, so we went for a visit. During that week, I met a man over lunch and asked him, “What’s the next thing for this place?” He replied, “We’re going to build an eco village, but we have no idea how to do it.”

That idea stayed with me. We packed up our house in Wales and drove back in our old camper van (which broke down four times on the 500-mile journey) we moved up there. I ended up living there for 12 years. During that time, I managed the business side of developing the eco village. I had a team of 70 builders, architects, engineers, and others, and my role was to make sure we had enough money each week to pay everyone. That involved raising funds and selling some of the properties we built.

It’s a fascinating place. You can learn more about it by searching for Findhorn Eco Village. There’s a wealth of information available. We built houses that were completely net zero, using solar and wind power. There’s a wind farm there now with about four generators. Every house had solar panels, and we even processed our own sewage using plants, sea creatures, and snails to naturally clean the water.

We did a lot of quite innovative work. This was during the late 1980s and into the 1990s, and I’m pleased to say the project is still going strong. I visit from time to time to see how things are progressing, and it’s always incredibly impressive.

I spent 12 years there, and the last six were particularly focused on growing the eco village. It was a n exciting time. Like all start-ups, it had its pitfalls, but it’s something I remain incredibly proud of. It’s a very tangible legacy, because those houses, the wind farms, the sewage treatment systems are all still there. You can see it, touch it, and feel it, and that’s always a really exciting aspect of any venture.

How did your earlier travel experiences inform your work in social entrepreneurship, and cann you share some examples of how you’ve applied the values of compassion and generosity in your work?

When I did the trip in Africa, a lot of wild things happened. A couple of them were particularly extreme. I got a very bad case of malaria and collapsed by the side of the road. It wasn’t ‘nowhere’ to the people who lived nearby, but to me, it felt like I was completely alone.

Fortunately, a driver picked me up and dropped me off in the next town. I staggered around until I eventually found someone who took care of me and got me medical treatment. I ended up staying with him and his family for about a week, living in a shed in their garden. For the first four days, I was hallucinating and had no idea where I was.

He was the most generous person I had ever met, truly extraordinary. He and his family made it their mission to help me recover so I could continue my journey and eventually make it back home. That experience showed me that the most important thing in life is people. From that point, I wanted to do something that genuinely improved people’s lives.

I’d studied economics, so I could have gone into a government department or the financial sector, but none of that appealed to me. What I took away from that and similar experiences was the realisation that community, kindness, and generosity were what mattered most. If I could dedicate my life to doing even a little of that, I’d be happy.

That’s how it began to translate into social enterprise. I would just do the thing in front of me. I met a man in Southern Sudan, had an idea, thought, “let’s give that a go,” and then it happened. I didn’t even come across the term ‘social enterprise’ or ‘social entrepreneur’ until I was about 40. By that time, I’d already set up quite a few ventures, but that wasn’t the language we had back then. I rarely met others doing similar work, and when I did, it was incredibly exciting.

Occasionally, I did meet other people like me, and it was terribly exciting, but mostly, I didn’t. Then, as I got into my forties, I began to pursue ventures that were increasingly centred around mental health. That shift partly stemmed from my own experience of having a personal crisis in my mid-thirties, which led me to therapy and to discovering the value of self-exploration.

I’ve actually been in therapy for many years, not because I’ve had particularly poor mental health, but because I’ve found it to be an incredibly powerful tool. I’ve always had fairly good mental health overall. I’m a little prone to anxiety, but then, who isn’t? Sometimes, a bit of anxiety can be helpful, as it gives you the ability to anticipate problems before they arise and be prepared for them.

I think that’s a really important skill for any entrepreneur. The ability to imagine what could go wrong, to map out those scenarios and respond accordingly. These days we might call it ‘risk assessment,’ but I believe it’s more than that—it’s a way of thinking creatively and strategically. If the problem never comes to pass, then we’ll simply find another use for what we’ve learned or prepared along the way.

People I worked with would often joke that I had eyes in the back of my head, that I could somehow see what they were saying or doing even when I wasn’t looking. I think there’s some truth to that, but I also believe it’s a learnable skill that many people possess and anyone can develop.

What are some significant lessons that you've learned when creating these impact-led organisations? And is there any other advice you would share with aspiring changemakers?

If you read my book Creating Social Enterprise, you’ll find there are 44 lessons—or what I call ‘learnings’—in there. When I was writing it, I didn’t have a diary to draw on, but I do have a fairly good long-term memory, even if my short-term memory’s not the best.

I actually thought about this question while preparing for the interview, and while I won’t rattle off all 44 lessons in the book (as we’d be here for hours), there are a few that stand out as particularly helpful. The first is this: if you need to have a difficult conversation, embrace it, don’t avoid it. Don’t do it over email or text.

If you need to speak with someone, whether you're running, growing, scaling, raising funds, or employing staff for an enterprise, have those important conversations directly. I’ve employed close to a thousand people in different roles and ventures, and one of the most important things I’ve learned is that we all see the world differently. Those differences can easily spiral into disagreement or conflict, sometimes with colleagues, clients, customers, partners, community members, or government bodies.

When something difficult needs to be said or addressed—especially if you’re feeling anxious about it—the best thing to do is tackle it quickly. Do it face-to-face if at all possible, and if not, then on the phone so you can at least hear the tone and cadence of each other’s voices. Not only does this minimise my own anxiety, but it also makes space for genuine resolution which people really respect. They feel relieved when you bring honesty to the table early on.

I consider myself fortunate to have become an entrepreneur long before we had the internet. We had landlines and phone boxes. I didn’t even have a phone in my home until I was in my late thirties. We had to write letters and send faxes, which were terribly exciting pieces of technology at the time! Most people under a certain age have no idea what a fax machine is anymore.

It was a very different era in terms of communication, but I think what was helpful about that time was that I developed a deep appreciation for honest, straightforward, face-to-face conversation. I would travel across the country by train or van just to meet someone in person and sort something out.

I’d often travel by train, drive a lorry, or do whatever was needed to meet someone face-to-face and sort something out. Another key insight for me—one that became especially clear when I began lecturing in social enterprise—is that many social entrepreneurs are laser-focused on their social mission but sometimes neglect the commercial vision. Even if they don’t outright ignore it, it often becomes a secondary concern.

From my early years in the whole foods business, I learned to never separate social and environmental values from the commercial side of the enterprise. They are not distinct, but they are actually the same. It's critical to align those elements. You can’t truly change the world if you’re not also making a profit, because without that sustainability, your impact will be limited to a very small slice of it.

Our mission in the whole foods business was to get people to stop eating meat. That’s a huge mission, and it’s still far from complete. But in the UK, there’s been a significant shift. I was brought up on a meat-heavy diet, which always made me feel ill, even as a child.

Now, you walk into nearly any shop and find vegan and vegetarian food options. That transformation—supported by voices like the United Nations recommending no more than two days a week of meat consumption—is massive.

Back in the ’70s and ’80s, we already knew about the link between meat production and climate change. It’s taken a long time to filter through, but the whole food industry, which we were deeply involved in, played a major role in changing that mindset.

We did it in a fun way by celebrating food, cooking, and eating well, and we were profitable while doing it. We aligned our mission and commercial objectives from the outset.

In my experience, I’ve never run a social enterprise that hasn’t become profitable within two years. If, at that point, I don’t see enough impact or viability, I ask, “Is this going to have the reach or change we’re aiming for?” If the answer is no, we change course—restructure, pivot, or start something new entirely.

Some people say I’m a bit ruthless about the bottom line, and that it’s not very “social entrepreneur” of me. But I believe the opposite is true. The key word is entrepreneur—we're in the business of building something. Without that financial foundation, we can’t scale impact or sustain meaningful change.

I’m a great believer in that approach, and it’s worked well for me.

Another lesson that tends to catch people’s attention is something I call “looking for the grain of truth in any criticism.”

I learned this lesson many years ago during a town hall-style community meeting where someone publicly criticised me. To be honest, the criticism was absolutely outrageous.

I was beginning to get defensive when the chair of the meeting said, “Patrick, why don’t you pause for a moment and think—even though I agree this is an extreme accusation—what is the grain of truth that might have sparked it? What part of this might be valid? What did you do?”

I sat with it for a moment and realised that, yes, I had made a mistake. I’d said something I probably shouldn’t have. So, I acknowledged it publicly, and the entire atmosphere in the room shifted—from confrontation to understanding, from tension to dialogue. I’ve carried that lesson with me ever since.

It’s probably the most valuable leadership skill I’ve ever learned. When you're growing an enterprise, things aren’t always rosy, despite the fact you’re doing good work in the world. In fact, it’s often because everyone believes so passionately in the mission that conflicts arise. People get tangled in their own interpretations and views of how change should happen.

What I’ve found most effective is to simply pause and ask myself, “What’s my part in this conflict?” And then say it out loud: “My part in this is X.” People really respect that. It prompts them to reflect on their own role as well, and suddenly, you’re having a constructive dialogue rather than an argument. I found that really helpful.

Another lesson that stands out to me comes from The Art of War, a book written in the fifth century BC by the Chinese philosopher and strategist Sun Tzu. It’s a short book, almost like a pamphlet, but it’s still widely published and available in bookstores today. It’s a fascinating read.

About ten years into my career, I was working on the eco village in Scotland, but I started facing a lot of public criticism in the media. Much of it was driven by a local dignitary in what became a classic case of, “we don’t want anything different happening in our village.” He was writing letters to the papers, and many of my colleagues responded aggressively, defending the project in print.

One of the teachings from The Art of War is “know your enemy and know yourself.” So, instead of reacting angrily, I decided to reach out to this man directly. I found his phone number, called him up, and said, “hello, I’m Patrick Nash from Findhorn, and I’d like to have a chat with you.” To my surprise, he was delighted. I went around to his house, we had a cup of tea, and his wife brought out some biscuits. We had a genuinely good conversation.

We kept meeting regularly throughout the duration of the conflict, and eventually, it all just dissipated. We became friends. Through that process, I realised I have the ability to get on with people even when we disagree, and that’s an ability I’ve tried to use constructively ever since.

That, to me, is the essence of Sun Tzu’s idea: know your enemy and know yourself. It’s a great principle, and The Art of War is a book I continue to recommend to people.

What inspiring projects or initiatives have you come across recently creating a positive change?

As always, it’s the things I’ve been closest to. There are a few that come to mind. One of the earlier influences on myself was the whole food industry in the early 1980s. While that’s going back a bit, there are still many cooperatives in that sector today.

What I appreciated and learned early on was Was how collaborative cooperatives are. Unlike more capitalistic business models, which dominate even in the world of social enterprise, cooperatives believe in mutual support.

It might not always be a popular thing to say in workshops, but at the end of the day, social enterprises are capitalist organisations. They’re deploying capital to make something happen.

What I loved about the cooperative movement was the spirit of collaboration. We would work together on projects and even import entire shiploads of food from around the world, sharing the risk between two or three businesses. That kind of collaboration was genuinely exciting.

We were heavily inspired by the Mondragon Cooperative in Spain, which is probably one of the largest cooperatives in the world. It’s a federation of 81 self-governing cooperatives, employing around 70,000 people, and it’s the 10th largest company in Spain. Back then, we’d read their publications, and one was a Spanish journal they would release every so often. We’d have to get someone to translate it for us, but their model inspired us in building our own cooperatives.

More recently, I’ve been involved with the Stephen Lloyd Awards, named after a man who was not only my lawyer for many years but also one of the most renowned legal figures in the UK social enterprise scene. He helped the government create the Community Interest Company, a new legal structure for social enterprises now widely used in the UK.

After Stephen passed away prematurely, a few of us came together and set up an award scheme to support early-stage projects with the potential to deliver practical, sustainable social change.

Winners received funding as well as pro bono support. We had a whole network of people ready to provide expert guidance. Our philosophy was simple but powerful: “We’re happy to back a business plan written on the back of an envelope.”

We weren’t interested in receiving lots of detailed information, we just asked people to show us some basic numbers and share their vision. It turned out to be a brilliant program. In fact, some of the most successful social enterprises in the UK received their first funding through it. While the grants were modest (around £20,000), that early-stage support acted as an incubator for far greater things to come.

One standout initiative that emerged is a fantastic bakery in London, which isn’t so little anymore. It’s called Breadwinners, and it employs refugees. I’m not quite sure how they’ve managed to navigate the legal challenges involved in that space. They’re quite secretive about it, and wisely so, but the results they achieve are remarkable. It’s now a large, thriving bakery staffed entirely by refugees, and it’s well worth checking out.

More recently, I became a trustee of a charity called the Money and Mental Health Policy Institute. It’s a lovely, small organisation that’s been growing steadily and is now significantly influencing government policy. They’re helping to amend laws and change corporate procedures to break the link between mental health challenges and financial hardship, which disproportionately affect certain groups.

It’s an incredible organisation. In the six years I’ve been a trustee, it’s grown about fourfold. I should say, of course, I’m not taking any credit for that, because the executive team are the ones doing the hard work. But these are just a few of the inspiring projects I’ve had the privilege to observe and support in recent years.

To finish off, what books or resources would you recommend to our audience?

The embarrassing thing is that, despite being a writer, I’m not an especially good reader. I’ve always had a bit of a funny relationship with reading. My daughter, a writer herself, keeps telling me, “ff you want to keep being a writer, you’ve got to read more!” But I often find that I misread words on the page; it’s something I struggle with. She’s suggested I start listening to audiobooks instead, and maybe she’s right.

I’ve never studied business. I’ve never done an MBA or taken a formal course in social entrepreneurship. I’ve always learned on the job, and that’s worked for me. I think it works for a lot of entrepreneurs, actually.

In terms of resources, I’ll come back to my own books in a moment, but one great resource in the UK is the School for Social Entrepreneurs. It’s a really strong training provider that offers grants and runs courses at a range of levels. They have an introductory course for people who have an idea for a social enterprise but haven’t quite crystallised it yet. A lot of people fall into that category, and the program is excellent at encouraging those early steps.

They also run programs for start-ups, for organisations looking to scale, and for social enterprises seeking investment—because, like in Australia, there’s now a growing investment market for social enterprises. That wasn’t the case back in my day, but it’s fantastic to see it developing. It’s a really important and valuable resource.

Another thing I’ve found incredibly helpful throughout my career is having a leadership coach. I’ve always had someone I could go to regularly for coaching. Sometimes the enterprise paid for it, and if not, I’d pay for it myself. Every four to six weeks, I’d spend a few hours with a coach, talking through where I was with the organisation, reflecting on challenges, and having my thoughts and attitudes constructively questioned.

That’s been a really powerful part of my development. After I left my last enterprise, I spent a few years coaching others as well, and I came to appreciate just how valuable it is.

I think a lot of leaders in the social enterprise world can feel a bit lonely—they may not always be able to open up fully to their teams, and that’s understandable. Coaching provides that safe, reflective space, and I think it’s a crucial support tool.

But beyond that—and perhaps it’s a bit cheeky to say—other than my own books, I’d struggle to recommend much else!

My first book is called Creating Social Enterprise: My Story and What I Learned, and that’s exactly what it is. Over the years, I’ve set up 12 different organisations including social enterprises, charities, cooperatives, and businesses. They fall into what I think of as four broad chapters, or eras of my life if I may borrow from Taylor Swift!

The first era tells the story of starting up in my early twenties with a vegetarian food wholesaling business. That business is still going strong, by the way—over 40 years later. The second chapter covers my time in Scotland, building an eco village. Again, that project continues to thrive.

The third section is about my return to London in the late 1990s, where I became Chief Executive of a charity. I essentially dismantled an old, struggling organisation and rebuilt it from the ground up as a mental health charity. That involved negotiating with government bodies, trade unions, schools, and teachers to create a service that, at its peak, supported 20% of schoolteachers annually with counselling and other wellbeing services.

The final part of the book focuses on what I consider perhaps my proudest achievement was in founding Connect Assist, a social enterprise in the Welsh Valleys, one of the poorest regions in Europe following the collapse of coal mining. We started with just ten staff delivering a single contract as a contact centre for mental health support, and by the time I left, we were the region’s largest employer with 500 staff.

Connect Assist became the largest outsourcer of helplines for charities and, increasingly, for government services in the UK. We ran helplines for the Royal British Legion, which you call the “RSL” in Australia, supporting veterans and their families, often fielding up to 1,200 calls a day.

We also managed the UK’s largest public mental health advice service for Mind, and operated the national helpline for asylum seekers needing help across a wide range of issues from housing and legal aid to mental health and financial hardship.

That’s the story the book tells. As I’ve mentioned, it includes 44 lessons I’ve picked up along the way—lessons I found valuable and which I hope others will too.

That first book covers about 40 years of my life, but my most recent one focuses on the year just before I began my journey as a social entrepreneur. It’s called Shots Across the Water, and it tells the story of my travels across North and Central Africa in 1980. I walked and hitchhiked most of the 14,000 miles.

As I mentioned earlier, I often stayed with people along the way (sometimes just for a night, sometimes longer) in places like the Congo Rainforest and the Sahara Desert in the Sahel region. It was a deeply meaningful and moving journey.

There’s also quite a bit of drama in it. I was thrown in jail at one point, suffered a serious bout of malaria, and, as the title suggests, was even shot at while crossing a river that marks the border between what is now the Democratic Republic of Congo and the Central African Republic, two countries you’d be unlikely to travel through today.

Both of my books, Creating Social Enterprise and Shots Across the Water, are available on Amazon and published by a company called Bradt Guides. They are available in Australia: I know there are a few copies floating around.