Today, I figured out, I think I'm a mechanic.
Most foundations don’t need a jet, they need a tune-up.
I wrote this as a note, but then realized it's a larger self-reflection, addressing some of my frustrations with the quality of philanthropic conversations.
People come to philanthropy with big ideas. Systems change. Transformation. Equity. Innovation. All the things. I did. And don’t get me wrong, I believe in that ambition. But sometimes I feel like the mechanic in the corner, holding up the checklist you’d rather not see.
At conferences, I often notice a gap. Conversations tend to cluster at the macro level, focusing on geopolitics, the economy, democracy, or zooming in to practical grantmaking approaches, tools, and tactics. What’s often missing is attention to the structure of the foundation itself: how it operates, how decisions are made, how roles and responsibilities are held.
In my research and advisory work, I’ve found this to be the underdiscussed element that unlocks everything else. It’s not especially exciting to most (maybe, just to me). Still, without a clear understanding of how your foundation actually works and how the field operates, it’s challenging to move forward with any meaningful change.
It’s the equivalent of a mechanic quietly pointing out that your transmission needs servicing, only to hear, “We’ll get to it next time,” which often means years later, when the car finally breaks down.
This dynamic is particularly important to recognize when welcoming new talent into the sector. Many arrive inspired by bold visions of transformation, only to find themselves working within organizational structures that are misaligned or under-functioning. Early in my own career, I remember encountering strategic planning as the new rage in philanthropic foundations and thinking, “Well, but of course. What an obvious win-win.” It took time and experience to understand why such processes often stall in certain foundations: the underlying systems, roles, or decision-making pathways may not support them. When we fail to acknowledge these realities, we risk setting ourselves and new recruits up for frustration or disillusionment by not calibrating their expectations to the operational conditions they are entering.
There is a strong desire for change, for impact, for momentum. Yet many foundations are operating with underlying issues that have not been addressed. Core functions such as governance, clarity of purpose, and internal coordination are often underdeveloped or overlooked. Without these elements in place, efforts to accelerate progress may falter.
It’s not a bad vehicle. In fact, it might be a great one. But even the best vehicles need regular care. This isn’t about crushing our collective ambition. It’s about diagnosis. Maintenance. The unglamorous work that makes movement possible.
Take care of the vehicle, and maybe it’ll take us somewhere extraordinary. Until then, I’ll be the quiet mechanic, reminding you about the checklist no one wants to review, but everyone needs.
New vehicles! Are we thinking the DAF as a bicycle or just a car we borrow from our parents, less maintenance but still full of gas when we need it. I like the off-roading extension to the metaphor.
Questioning the need for vehicles is important. They do exist so maintaining them is important too. I think I'm getting old, where I see all the things we haven't yet fixed and feel bad about giving the next gen a beat up car.
The issue may be that we don't need a car or that the lie of scale has convinced us that it needs to travel from jurisdiction to juristiction using the same fuel and the same capacity, Once we relegate the car's responsibility to transport, it doesn't explore alternative routes, unmarked trails or a change in destination. The car plods along the same well-worn, if meaningless, path, using fuel and polluting the environment. What might happen if some of us had ponies and camels and we were exploring rather than coasting? Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that had made all the difference. When it seemed as if I could bear no more. The fault must partly have been in me.