(Illustration by iStock/akinbostanci)
We are living through cataclysmic shifts: a global pandemic causing more than six million deaths; fires, famines, freezes, and floods; far-right gangs threatening poll workers and public-health officials; and threats to democracy everywhere. The world order appears to be unraveling.
Yet there are also monumental leaps forward that pundits and straight-line logic would not have predicted: The largest continuous civil rights protests in US history took place during the pandemic with all races and faiths proclaiming “Black Lives Matter”; the legalization of same-sex marriage in all 32 Mexican states; the rapid creation and distribution globally of effective vaccines against COVID-19; and the election and appointment of the first Black women as US vice president and US Supreme Court justice.
Given the scope of the challenges ahead and the possibility of creating real change, now is a powerful moment for us to discuss how philanthropy needs to change to meet the past and be an active force in bending history’s arc toward justice. There is no more room for business as usual. The people and planet are demanding that we build a vision for philanthropy, let go of practices that no longer serve us, and create new ones that move us forward.
From extraction to regeneration. Society’s obsession with metrics such as GDP (gross domestic product) reinforces the myth that eternal growth is possible, or even desirable. The seasons, by contrast, teach us the natural cycle of life and death. Reaping and sowing, and never taking more than can be replenished. We live on a planet that is capable of regrowth, so abundance is possible only if we limit our greed and invest in that which renews. Communities in the infamous Cancer Alley in the US state of Louisiana are fighting back against the fossil-fuel companies that insist on the false choice of jobs or clean air. Shouldn’t philanthropy be in the business of providing David a megaphone and at least a slingshot in the fight against Goliath?
From individualistic to interconnected. Having a great deal of money can be isolating, and perhaps that’s why so many wealthy donors hold tight to the illusion of the importance of self-sufficiency. Ironically, the way that traditional philanthropy is practiced further distances wealthy donors from the communities they seek to serve through their philanthropy. Trust-based philanthropy, practiced thoughtfully over time, helps donors lock arms with communities working toward shared goals of equity and fairness.
From objective to experienced. Early in my career, when I was often the first or only Black person in a boardroom, foundation leaders often wondered if I could be objective when recommending grants serving the Black community. At that time, it was assumed that white people alone possessed that essential skill supposedly required to review proposals—emotionless scrutiny unclouded by familiarity, context, or experience. It is only in recent years that philanthropy has awakened to the wisdom of asking and engaging those most impacted by an issue what they believe should be the solutions. When we do that, brilliant ideas emerge, such as giving people who are poor cash rather than services, spending school funds on lunches rather than metal detectors, opening and staffing pools, parks, and libraries rather than opening and staffing jails and detention centers, or providing permanent housing to people who are unhoused rather than putting them in temporary shelters.
From mechanistic to organic. Factories revolutionized production by making each task mechanical and replicable. Orderly assembly lines codified processes that guaranteed production at scale. Too often, philanthropy mistakenly replicates that model, hoping that a streamlined and efficient process will work to address complex social problems in the same way it works to produce computers or cars. But it doesn’t. Many wealthy folks cling to the dream that a single solution will solve a multitude of problems. They are surprised when new math software doesn’t transform hungry or unhoused children into valedictorians. Effectiveness is not a factory of outputs, but a forest of roots and resiliency. Caring hands can weave multiple solutions into a community safety net. There are no silver bullets.
From dominion to reciprocity. Philanthropy is a two-way street. Donors give but they also receive. It is only habits of oppression that encourage donors to see themselves as givers and others as takers. Receiving a gift does not make the recipient less than the gift giver. Giving isn’t a conquest, it is a relationship of mutuality and of equals. Traditional philanthropy is often a terrible partner. How do we gain the self-awareness that we are receiving at the same time we are giving?
From hate to love. On a recent Democracy Frontlines Fund trip to the Equal Justice Initiative’s Peace and Justice Memorial Center, a comment from grantee partner Ash-Lee Woodard Henderson caught me up short. She said, “As I was driving into Montgomery [Alabama, United States] today, I wondered whether I should have brought security with me.” Her organization’s offices, Highlander Research and Education Center, were recently torched by white supremacists. Threats against Black, Brown, Asian, LGBTQ, and Indigenous activists are widespread and serious. Yet when I hear Woodard Henderson talk about her commitment to fighting for everyone’s liberation in Appalachia and the American South, whites included, I can’t help but be inspired by the love that fuels her organizing. Too often, the hatred and violence of far-right extremists is excused as “fear” yet the people who have experienced actual harm and threats are the ones spreading love. Let’s invest in love.
From lies to truth. The myth that “education is your ticket out of poverty” denies the reality of crippling student debt for so many. “Work hard and you’ll climb the ladder of success” ignores 30 years of stagnant wage growth sapped by increased corporate power and wealth. “Be a law-abiding citizen and you’ll have nothing to fear from the police” is a phrase that can no longer be uttered by Black people who have died at the hands of police, like Breonna Taylor and George Floyd. Because many of the people who work in the rarefied air of foundations come from privileged backgrounds, traditional philanthropy has acted as though their personal experiences are universal truths. And they simply are not. For many people they are simply lies. Organized philanthropy—if it aims to be truly effective and relevant—has a vital role to play in helping to dismantle these interlocking systems of oppression through truth-telling, reconciliation, and repair.
These are some of the sea changes we must make in our work as philanthropists in the coming years if we are to achieve the caring, multiracial, and inclusive future we want for ourselves and our communities. There are no shortcuts, no quick fixes in forging this future. The only way through it is through it. Together.
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Read more stories by Crystal Hayling.