Philanthropy’s Problem with Power
When I began my career in philanthropy in the early 2000s, I found myself a young, white, American woman in the role of intermediary, tenuously positioned between large funders and the organizations they funded. While I was tasked with building the capacities of these organizations to be more effective, in practice this often meant playing de-facto translator, placating the big donors while helping people on the frontlines to be more ‘donor-palatable.’
What did that look like? I advised early-stage organizations in freshly democratic Central Europe in how to develop programmatic strategies and demonstrate impact of their work. Several years later, in India, this time in the name of venture philanthropy, I partnered with organizations in the poorest areas of the country, investing outsider’s capital in them, and building their capacities to speak to donors, create theories of change, scale up their operations, and prove they were making an impact.
It was a power trip, with philanthropy clearly in the driver’s seat.
It was the era of measurement. Of donor accountability. Of ‘professionalization’ of grassroots organizations. In my role of intermediary, I straddled the worlds, striving to help them understand each other. In retrospect, while my intention was to help build organizations’ capacities to thrive, I was often in the position of making these organizations ‘look good’ for outside donors. Personifying all the privilege that comes with whiteness and educational pedigree, I was enabling egregious power disparities by trying to change those on the ground to look and feel more like those giving the money. I was one of many, utterly unaware of the system I was feeding.
So how does this philanthropic misuse of power show up?
In giving money disproportionately to people who look, speak and present in ways that appeal to donors;
In siphoning time and resources from community organizations in the service of donor appeasement (onerous applications, reporting, excessive communications, defense of programming decisions, etc.);
In micromanaging strategic or programming decisions, including dangling prospective funding in return for compliance; and
In building capacity of organizations to better steward donors, sometimes to the detriment of the work itself.
As a partner to philanthropies and funders networks now, I am seeing a subtle but perhaps decisive transition into a new era of philanthropy. Emboldened by Covid-19, existential recalibrations - the kind that can only take place in times of crisis - are taking root. While the inherent power differential of donor to grantee still exists, foundations, funders networks, and associated industries supporting these philanthropic institutions are inching towards realizations that for too long donors have been misusing their power.
Here are some examples of how philanthropy is rethinking its grip on power. These ideas have been building support over the last decade, but now seem to be reaching a crescendo, becoming more dominant actors on the stage, no longer exiled to fringe thinking:
Diversity, Equity and Inclusion in Philanthropy
Historically, leadership and Boards of Directors of philanthropies have looked like the traditional donor – white, male, upper class. According to D5 Coalition’s State of the Work report, 92% of US foundation presidents are white, 83% of other full-time executive staff are white, and 68% of program officers are white. Those holding these power positions do not represent the diversity of the populace, or the communities in which these philanthropic institutions invest. One of the consequences of this – among many – is a skewed investment portfolio that, according to a report from Echoing Green and Bridgespan, invests less frequently in organizations led by people of color, and when these organizations do win grants, they are trusted less to spend those funds.
There is a groundswell of actors trying to redistribute power in this disproportionately white-led sector; increasing diversity is only one part of a movement that is also working to build equity and inclusion principles into philanthropic practice. There are burgeoning fellowships, convenings, and communities of practice – all striving to both diversify the sector and center equity in philanthropy. Organizations like the Philanthropic Institute for Racial Equity, Women of Color in Fundraising and Philanthropy, and Emerging Practitioners in Philanthropy among many others are driving the philanthropic community to make concrete change. As a result, more funders are looking inwards at who they are, how this impacts grantmaking, and how a variety of complex and interwoven practices are privileging the opinions of those who rarely represent the communities the organizations seek to serve. We won’t know for some time the concrete results of this work, but there is no doubt the conversation is dramatically different than a year ago.
Trust-Based Philanthropy
Seeking to rectify the traditional power imbalances of philanthropy, the Whitman Institute’s approach seeks to build relationships between donor and grantee founded on transparency, communication, and trust. The approach is guided by many principles, including placing the onus of the work on the donor, limiting burdensome accountability demands, and providing long-term, flexible funding that allows grantees to use funds in the ways they deem most useful. Many funders have adopted practices and language of trust-based philanthropy in the wake of the Covid-19, with nearly 800 funders having signed onto a pledge of support in the early days of the pandemic.
Participatory Philanthropy
In 2017 and 2018, two reports were released – Participatory Grantmaking: Has Its Time Come? and Deciding Together: Shifting Power and Resources Through Participatory Grantmaking – that catalyzed conversations about emerging practices of participatory philanthropy. Since then, both small and large foundations and collaborative grantmaking bodies - from FundAction, to the MacArthur Foundation, to the Fund for an Inclusive California - have incorporated elements of this model into their grantmaking, giving more philanthropic power away via more inclusive decision-making structures and grantmaking practices that better represent and include communities impacted by the funding.
Investing in Movements
Philanthropists are increasingly funding grassroots social movements. From funders like Astraea that propel LGBTQI movements, to Madre that funds community-based women's movements, to Ford Foundation’s partnership with Borealis Philanthropy to set up the Black-Led Movement Fund that has funneled millions into Black Lives Matters groups – more funders are adopting movement-based strategies. Because they do not abide by the prototypical organizational structure, movements are harder to fund. They are more complex and do not fit into log frames, traditional power structures, or measurement profiles. They are riskier and longer-term investments that require patient capital and trusting the expertise and experience of those on the frontlines.
Direct Cash Transfers
Putting cash directly into the hands of the people who need it has not yet taken hold in mainstream philanthropy. Employed by governments to reduce poverty (conditional cash transfers) and experimented with in the context of humanitarian disasters, this practice is backed by many studies touting its efficacy. Recently, largely in response to Covid-19, foundations like the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation and Stand Together have begun to experiment with ‘trusting’ individuals to use the money at their discretion. This is a big leap for philanthropy, perhaps the next stage in the relinquishment of power.
The widespread adoption of practices that loosen philanthropy’s grip on power is heartening. The question now is to what degree philanthropy will mainstream practices jumpstarted in a crisis. As Nichole June Maher, President and CEO of Group Health Foundation, recently wrote in an article that called for philanthropy to invest real resources in those “who carry our society’s burden of inequity:”
Let’s remember who is doing the work and recognize that anything we want to accomplish is entirely dependent upon the community organizations we fund, not us. Let’s commit significant resources to organizations that are for and led by Black, Indigenous and people of color, immigrants and refugees, people with disabilities, members of the LGBTQIA+ community and people who have experienced poverty. And when we do, let’s resist the urge to position ourselves as the expert, leader or savior of their work.
For those of us in and/or supporting the philanthropic community, let’s hold ourselves accountable to this – to listening more, to unraveling our identification with our own expertise, and to persistently trialing ways for philanthropy to rethink how it wields power.
