How many times have you heard someone make a broad statement about why foundations do what they do? More often you hear negative statements such as “philanthropy is a vanity project” or “philanthropy is about exercising power” or “philanthropy is about avoiding taxes”.  You can also hear positive but equally general statements such as “philanthropy is about making social change” or “philanthropy is about taking risks and innovating”. The reality is that philanthropy is not monolithic but pluralistic. Foundation philanthropy is as diverse in its motives as the people who are engaging in it, as donors, directors or actors.

This is the starting point taken by Ariel Simon, author of The 13 Intentions of Philanthropy, a thought-provoking recent article in the Stanford Social Innovation Review. Simon is an American foundation leader who is President of Tambourine Philanthropies, a private foundation focused on health-related research. Simon asks the two questions that many philanthropists ask (or should ask) themselves routinely: what is our motive in this moment, and how should we best achieve it?

The answer is of course that there are many motives or, as Simon calls them, intentions. He believes that “American philanthropy is animated by at least 13 intentions, each with its own view of success and moral logic of what good looks like”. I think these could be applied beyond American philanthropy. They are not culturally or politically bound. And his typology of intentions is a useful prompt for any foundation discussion of its purpose.

Simon outlines in a table the 13 intentions, including their definitions, examples, and common tactics, and visions of success. He has grouped them according to four types: communitarian, transformative, declarative and humanitarian. He also notes that some intentions will overlap or co-exist. For the sake of the reader, I summarize them: strengthen community; give back or memorialize; build and sustain the commons; share joy and celebration; accelerate breakthroughs; tackle a major problem; advance flourishing; elevate values; build power; take a stand; respond to a crisis; offer a helping hand; promote potential.

There is nothing particularly new about articulating each of these intentions. The value of Simon’s approach is that he differentiates these intentions in a way that is helpful to the choice of tactics and to the expectation of what success looks like. The link from purpose to action to impact becomes clearer.

How can a better understanding of one’s philanthropic intention contribute to having impact? In answer, Simon notes that his typology of intentions “does more than clarify and decode different approaches to philanthropy; it also offers a broader and better approach to understanding and assessing “effectiveness.” It suggests that the term “effective” is inherently contextual and helps avoid the category error of foisting one intention’s vision of success onto another’s. It highlights that the best way to judge the effectiveness of an act of service or philanthropy is to ask why it was undertaken in the first place and what it sought to achieve.”

In this way, not only do we avoid the application of broad statements about philanthropy’s best or most valuable purpose, we can also avoid broad statements about the greatest impact of philanthropy. Simon mentions effective altruism as one philosophy about philanthropy that does not fit all contexts or purposes. Other philosophies such as reparative or trust-based philanthropy also do not represent most or best impact in all cases, although these approaches might fit with the specific intention of the funder in specific cases. What is so helpful about Simon’s typology is that it avoids moral or practical judgments about what is “best”.  

Simon is making the case for a pluralistic philanthropy, not only because there are many equally valid intentions and many effective approaches, but also because a diversity of intentions makes for a more durable and more justifiable practice of philanthropy. A foundation can have a portfolio of intentions, just as it works on a portfolio of programs. It does not have to be limited to a single grand purpose (although it might choose to do that too). As Simon crisply states “there are as many ways to give well as there are to waste money. But the right test of both is best defined by the intentions that drive giving, not by a singular theory of how philanthropy should work.” Spending time on thinking through one’s intentions is time well spent.

I think that being clear about intention also will make it easier to communicate what philanthropy is about. Communicating intention to colleagues, partners and the larger public may help to counter some of the negative myths about philanthropy ‘s motives that otherwise circulate only too freely. It is important to articulate a mission or purpose, as many funders now do. But more is needed. There may be multiple complementary intentions in that mission statement, and therefore the clearer a foundation can be about what it intends, the better it will be able to assess what tactics to use and how to know whether they are effective.

Simon’s conclusion is one that strongly resonated with me: “I’ve come to think that the operative question for philanthropy isn’t always how to make the biggest difference, but how to make a meaningful one”. This might be the most important intention of all: to make a meaningful difference to the issue or challenge that inspires you to philanthropic action.

We are living in urgent times. Needs and uncertainties multiply in the context of energy and food insecurity, inflation, war, and attacks on democracy. The expectations and pressures on funders understandably continue to grow in the face of this urgency. The question of the value of the endowed foundation model must be posed again. When the world is on fire, should long-life foundations reconsider their time span and focus on the present?

One of the advantages of an endowed foundation is that it can make an independent decision about the temporal nature of its work. And this is a question it should ask itself repeatedly. In 1966, McGeorge Bundy, the president of the Ford Foundation, said that “a foundation should regularly ask itself if it could do more good dead than alive.” He concluded then on behalf of Ford that “we find that there is no present reason to believe that the world will have less need of a large foundation in 1980 than in 1967; the forces we help to counterbalance are not likely to be smaller – the need for an independent agency not likely to be less.”

Bundy was not wrong. The Ford Foundation continues to this day to contribute in significant ways to the struggle for social justice under its leader Darren Walker. But it doesn’t mean that the question should not be raised or the answer not tested.

Nor is the question unique to Canadian and American philanthropy. It is being posed on both sides of the Atlantic. At the Philanthropic Foundations Canada Conference on October 4 in Montreal, I will be speaking in a session on the legitimacy and temporal challenges of foundations in Canada and in Europe with my colleague Michael Alberg-Seberich of Wider Sense a philanthropy consultancy in Berlin. In Europe, philanthropy is being challenged by the consequences of war, with its pressures on migration and energy supply compounded by inflation. We in Canada face similar pressures from inflation. The increasing costs of climate emergency are also creating enormous negative impact, which falls disproportionately on those most in need. Both in Canada and in Europe there are increasing worries about the strength of democratic institutions. The rise of social media, the narrowing or polarization of public opinion, the lack of trust in leaders and institutions, the decrease in volunteering and civic engagement are all contributing factors to the weakening of democracy. We are seeing low turnout in our elections. Europe is facing shifts to the right and to extremist political views.  

The urgency of the present is clear. Foundations must respond, in ways that support their social legitimacy. How should foundations change in reaction to these pressures and what can, or must they do to help our societies adapt? What is the role of foundations today in supporting democracy and civic engagement? Should foundations engage more directly in activism and what might that mean for foundation public accountability? Should they simply spend down? Are we facing a call for radical change in the long-life philanthropic model?

There are no easy answers. But one question that foundation leaders could ask themselves now is whether to think differently about risk. Michael and I have both had long conversations with foundation leaders over the last year. Risk came up frequently. There are many risks for foundation leaders to manage: financial, administrative, legal, regulatory, and reputational. Foundations arguably focus too much on risk particularly when considering impact investing, or unconditional funding, or more participatory and trust-based grantmaking strategies. In the public eye, many foundations are seen as too risk-averse, and this limits their responsiveness. How can foundation leaders think more creatively about risk in turbulent times and avoid retreating into what is safer? Should we think of risk as being something for foundations to embrace as fundamental to the unique value they bring to society? So many important questions. Our conversation at the PFC Conference promises to be a lively one. More to come.