One of the most striking exit poll findings from the 2024 election was how deeply Americans hunger for change, with 86% of respondents saying they wanted substantial change or a “complete upheaval.” In turn, voters saw Trump as the candidate most likely to disrupt the status quo.
And disrupt it he has, offering up a case study of the maxim “be careful what you wish for.” Many of the changes Trump has wrought are deeply unpopular with the public, pushing his approval ratings under 40%.
This turn of events doesn’t mean that Americans no longer want dramatic changes. They still do. And until one of the political parties figures out how to deliver on this front, we’re likely to keep seeing anti-incumbent elections and both parties poll underwater.
But it’s not just politicians who face a crisis of trust from a strapped, anxious populace in an increasingly dysfunctional nation; it’s anyone and everyone who is seen as part of the powers that be.
That includes the mainstream media, universities, corporations, and also — to the extent Americans pay attention — elite philanthropy.
How philanthropy got caught on the wrong side of history
So far, this crisis of trust hasn’t had much impact on the philanthropic sector. But as I’ve warned so often before over the past decade (sounding, I know, like the boy who cries “wolf”), the danger of a populist asteroid hitting our world is real — and it’s growing.
I’m not talking about the selective prosecution of specific civil society groups like we’re seeing now under Trump. I’m talking about a much broader push, with bipartisan public support, to dismantle key aspects of the current charitable system, starting with its most elite feature — professionally staffed foundations with multibillion-dollar endowments that are accountable to no one and, too often, act like it.
Maybe that threat will never materialize. But if there’s even a chance that it might, that’s another reason for the sector to focus on perhaps the hardest question before it: How can philanthropy align with the public’s deep desire for large-scale change?
This question, of course, confronts liberalism as a whole. The irony facing liberals is that they largely won the great battle of ideas of the 19th and 20th centuries. Democracies with mixed economies — knitted together by alliances and trade — triumphed as the norm among advanced nations. Liberalism dramatically raised living standards, expanded social rights, and secured a long peace among great powers.
But these sweeping victories have never fully ushered in the good society.
As bright as the big picture became in the U.S. — relative to say, the 1920s or 1930s — failures abounded: persistent poverty, baked-in racial inequities, ecological destruction and the breakdown of communities and families, fueling alienation and disorder. All those shortcomings of liberalism have been exacerbated by key trends of recent decades: globalization, technological change and the fragmentation of information landscapes.
Fast forward to the 2008 financial crisis and failed forever wars, and it’s no surprise that so many Americans — on the left, right and center — soured on an establishment rooted in liberalism. Populists on the right have been most successful so far in exploiting that disenchantment, but the left’s populism has been potent, as well.
Elite institutions have been caught on the wrong side of this historical moment, leaving their leaders deeply flummoxed and unsure how to move forward — or even survive.
Can philanthropy break free of institutionalism?
In some ways, philanthropy’s predicament isn’t as bad as that of some elite sectors. Foundation leaders don’t have to worry about being primaried, seeing their business models collapse, or facing protest encampments in their lobbies. Nor have any been dragged before hostile congressional committees — not yet, anyway.
On the other hand, perhaps to an even greater degree than other elite institutions, the dominant ethos of philanthropy could hardly be more out of sync with our populist times.
To the extent foundations have been “society’s passing gear,” they’ve mostly driven progress from within the system, not outside it. They specialize in improvement, not disruption. The liberal institutionalists who mostly run the philanthrosphere believe in building on what works, not tearing things down. Their main tools include expertise, evidence, policy innovation, litigation, advocacy and communications.
These tools worked well in an earlier era, but they don’t any longer — not in an era of deep cynicism, rampant misinformation, influencer-driven narratives and norm-busting disrupters like Trump.
How does philanthropy operate under such hostile conditions and align with the public’s deep hunger for change?
I’ve offered a few suggestions over the past year, starting with putting the sector’s full weight behind structural reforms to an unequal economy that’s failing most Americans. That feels like job No. 1.
Another suggestion, which I wrote about two weeks ago, is that more grantmakers should join the fight to overthrow the two-party duopoly, a system that also doesn’t work for most Americans.
We’ve also written, hopefully, at IP about the abundance movement, with its challenge to the status quo in governance and land-use arrangements that stymie progress. In addition, we’ve reported on new thinking by the Quincy Institute and others on America’s role in the world.
Big, disruptive ideas are out there — ones with real promise, not like the awful spaghetti that Trump keeps throwing up on the wall. But being willing to embrace and fund such ideas at scale requires an attitudinal shift in philanthropy.
Aligning with the populist moment
A first step is to fully reckon with the impasse facing liberal institutionalism. This operating system, which has solved so many problems over the past century, can still deliver gains, and IP spotlights examples every week of smart grantmaking moving the needle on important issues.
But moving the needle is not enough right now. And even incremental gains are becoming harder to achieve as funders increasingly operate downstream of extreme inequality, unaddressed public rage and rising political nihilism.
I don’t have a magic formula for how institutionalists can reinvent themselves as disrupters. But that’s the challenge at hand — to think much bigger, outside of ideological boxes and long-established frameworks. And, as well, to move much faster, taking more risks.
The clock is ticking. Mix together AI, sky-high debt, oligarchical overreach, climate shocks and a destabilized world order, and we’re likely to see even more public anger and more pitchforks — maybe sooner rather than later.
Philanthropy had better be ready.
