I keep coming back to a simple tension: we say co‑production takes time, but the work rarely gives us that luxury. 

Deadlines arrive. Funding windows close. Decisions feel urgent, sometimes because they genuinely are. And in those moments, co‑production can start to feel like something that slows us down rather than something that strengthens what we do. 

So, the question isn’t abstract. It shows up in real choices every day. Can we move quickly and still be inclusive? Or does speed quietly decide whose voices get heard? 

I’ve noticed that when things speed up, participation subtly shifts. 

It’s rarely intentional, but it happens anyway. The people who stay in the conversation tend to be those already close to it, those who understand the language, feel confident speaking without much notice, or simply have the flexibility to respond quickly. The circle tightens, not because anyone draws the boundary, but because pace does it for us. 

Slowing things down can open that circle. With more time, you can build relationships rather than just invite input. You can create space for reflection, which is where many people do their clearest thinking. You can hear from people who need more than a quick meeting or a fast turnaround to engage meaningfully. 

But slowing down isn’t a perfect solution either. Long processes can unintentionally favour those who have the capacity to stay involved over time, people who know how to navigate complex systems, who can afford to wait, who aren’t overwhelmed by life or work elsewhere. Slowness can include, but it can also exclude. 

That’s the tension. 

 
Neither speed nor slowness is neutral. Both shape who shows up, how they show up, and whether they feel able to contribute at all. 

This is where collaborating out loud starts to matter, not as a checklist, but as a way of working. 

Instead of treating participation as a single moment, a workshop, a consultation, a survey, it becomes something more continuous. Work is shared earlier, before it’s fully formed. Assumptions are made visible. Decisions aren’t just presented at the end; they’re shaped in the open. 

In fast-moving work, that openness creates more entry points. Someone might not be able to attend a session at short notice, but they might be able to respond to a draft, comment on an update, or contribute in a way that fits their time and energy. It’s not about slowing everything down, it’s about widening how people can come in. 

It also changes the relationship with pace. When you’re collaborating out loud, you don’t have to choose between “move fast” or “include people later.” You’re inviting people in as you go, even when things aren’t perfect. 

And importantly, you’re showing what’s happening with their input in real time which builds trust far more quickly than a slow process where decisions disappear behind closed doors. 

But even with that mindset, speed still has an impact beyond just who participates. 

Fast environments tend to privilege immediacy. Ideas are shared quickly, decisions are made quickly, and there’s often less space to sit with uncertainty or disagreement. Nuance can get lost, not because it isn’t valued, but because there isn’t time to fully explore it. 

In slower spaces, you often get something different. Ideas evolve. People change their minds. Perspectives deepen. Contributions come in different forms, not just the most confident voice in the room, but the considered one that arrives later.  

And yet, there are situations where slowing down simply isn’t an option. If the issue you’re working on is already affecting people, delay has consequences too. Not acting can be as exclusionary as acting too quickly. 

So, the answer isn’t “fast is bad” or “slow is good.” It rarely is that simple. 

What feels more useful is asking better questions about pace. 

What kind of inclusion does this moment actually need? Who is likely to be excluded at this speed and why? Where would slowing down materially change who can contribute, and where would it just delay progress without widening participation? 

Sometimes the most inclusive thing you can do is slow down, especially when decisions will shape people’s lives in lasting ways. Other times, you might move quickly but stay deliberately open, creating multiple ways for people to come into the work as it evolves. 

And sometimes, it’s about being honest that the co‑production you’re able to do in that moment is partial and saying that out loud. 

Because perhaps the biggest risk isn’t speed itself. It’s calling something co‑production without acknowledging the compromises we’ve made to get there. 

When we collaborate out loud, we don’t just share the work, we share those trade‑offs too. We make visible what’s still open, what isn’t, who has been involved, and who hasn’t (yet). That transparency doesn’t fix everything, but it does build a different kind of trust. 

So, can we do co‑production quickly and inclusively? 

Sometimes. Not always. And not in the same way every time. 

But if we’re thoughtful about pace, open about process, and intentional about how people can take part, we can get closer, not by pretending the tension isn’t there, but by working with it in the open.