Generally, these are where decisions are finalised and minuted. These minutes rarely escape the building, only to be seen by Grants teams and the occasional auditor (there are of course exceptions, such as the excellent City Bridge Foundation, where you can attend meetings and access their minutes).

These meetings are often held in surroundings incongruous with the subject matter discussed, which only adds to their surreal nature. At one funder, the meetings were followed by a lavish three course meal with drinks.

​In theory, most of the work has been done before the meeting; these gatherings are the final scrutiny and sign-off for the release of the funding.

The pre-meeting processes are generally a variant on a theme. Applications come in, Grants Managers (GMs) assess them against the organisation/fund criteria to make recommendations to the Committee. Any contentious or particularly large grants will generally be discussed with the Chair before the meeting.

​Sometimes the grants which are ‘recommended for decline’ will be simply listed, sometimes they will have the same level of detail as those ‘recommended for approval’. GMs will produce one-to-two page summaries, including a brief introduction to the organisation, key financials, where the money will go and commentary/recommendations.

So far, so good: the process is generally as you would expect. 

What the Committee sees is the tip of the iceberg of the GMs, who would have checked, read, and written much more only to be distilled into a couple of pages. In my experience, the percentage of these documents actually read before the meeting is variable, and sadly lower than you’d expect.

GMs have to accept this and be ready to have a clear ‘pitch’ for each charity, and to prepare for any likely questions.

Committee Members are often families or people who are very familiar with each other, and are often very busy. Often, they will cram a few meetings into one day, with the Grants Committee relegated to the second or third meeting of the day.

GMs go into the meetings prepared to the hilt, with in-depth knowledge of each bid, but they cannot account for Committee members who may have sat in lengthy, tense meetings with patience wearing thin.

This weariness can manifest in various ways; annoyance at perceived jargon terms (‘Theory of Change’ being a particularly contentious term with many trustees), changes of heart, or temporary amnesia of the strategic objectives. In short, the decisions made here are made by humans, who may not be at their best. 

Committee Members generally have a trusted network, many of whom may run or be trustees of charities. I’ve assessed many applications that have no bearing to the strategy, but have been personally recommended, so unless you discover a major issue, the grant will sail through.

One extreme example saw a Committee member attempt to discredit other applications because their personal application was recommended for decline (because it targeted a completely different demographic).

This is rare, but the most asked questions from Committee members (if they have questions) are generally around whether we trust the individual at the helm of the charity. Either that, or "do they really need our money?" if the charity dares to build up anything like a reasonable reserve.

These questions are generally easily answered by GMs, but problems come when the Committee starts diving into how the charity operates or understanding its role; this is when the dreaded "I’ll find out more and get back to you" occurs, leading to more work for a potential decline. 

In saying all of this, generally Committees accept the GMs’ recommendation, especially after a few meetings together building up trust. The key currency in the meetings is trust; effectiveness of a charity is rarely discussed (the Committee is more likely to debate as to whether the organisation is suitable for its funding). If the Chair keeps to the agenda, these meetings can be simple affairs, as recommendations get nodded through.

​The flipside is when a grenade is chucked into a meeting and affairs turn volatile and unpredictable – such as differing personal view, a preference for another charity, or a questioning of strategy – often unravelling months of work from the GMs.

In short, there is only so much the GMs can control, and the reasons for a declination might not be clear cut. Often feedback is euphemistically put to the charity, whereas the real reason is that a Committee member has had a bad experience with that charity or doesn’t think they are ‘worthy of their money’.

If I was going to offer one piece of advice, it would be that clarity is key.

Your funding bid is often relayed to trustees second or even third hand, so absolute clarity on the need, issue and your approach is vital. You can provide clarity by using plain language, using a summarising introductory paragraph, using bullet points, and getting a second pair of eyes on the application to ensure the ask is clear (if this isn’t possible, then at least re-reading with the sole purpose of checking whether a reader can understand it first time).

Oh, and make sure that there is nothing that could give the Grants Manager or Committee an easy out: no late accounts, an up to date website, and a clear explanation of reserves is a good start.

​Make the life of a GM easy, and hope the Committee isn’t too tired or upset. Control the controllables and hope for the best. It’s the power balance in action, and unfortunately, it’s the game charities are increasingly forced to play. ​

Last month, I wrote by far my worst-ever performing LinkedIn post. This month, I’m writing a blog out of it.

Cast your mind back to early January. Easy enough as it wasn’t much different to now – just a little darker, a little wetter, and with Donald Trump defecating marginally more on the global news cycle.

For those of us hoping for a more positive 2026, the year didn’t start well. The US captured the Venezuelan President on 3rd January. Trump refused to rule out invading Greenland, touted military action in Iran, and directed threats at various other countries. NATO Chief Mark Rutte ominously said “we're not at war, but we’re at not peace either.”

There was frenzied speculation about what was really driving the world's most powerful and belligerent Wotsit: was it geopolitical strategy? Thirst for oil? Was he just unhinged? Or did he simply take a look at a world map and notice that Greenland seemed really big?

Around the same time, I listened to a podcast about the upcoming US midterm elections, how crucial they were to the MAGA agenda, and the very real risk they won’t be conducted freely and fairly. Joining some dots in my head, I wrote this on LinkedIn:

​It was a departure from my usual topics. It was speculative (arguably unhelpfully so) and pessimistic. I didn’t expect it to be everyone’s cup of tea. But I didn’t expect it to be LinkedIn Kryptonite either.

I can almost guarantee you didn't see this post. After six weeks, it’s had around 50 impressions (almost all of them me), compared to the usual figure of a few thousand, and 0 reactions. It’s been “seen” by 8 people, except it hasn’t really.

The post didn't appear in anyone's feed. It doesn't show up in my post history. When I sent the direct post link to people, they received a message saying "This post cannot be displayed", despite them being counted towards the paltry number of people who had seen it. It's like it never existed.

I couldn’t tell you exactly which words triggered this – it's not like this was my first post about politics or Trump – though I suspect the phrase “dying megalomaniac dictator mode” did me no favours.

Nobody is going to cry about the loss of one LinkedIn post. There's enough noise on there anyway.

Those of us who post regularly tend to get hung up on how our posts perform, and which topics get engagement. I’m fully aware this will always risk sounding vain and self-absorbed. Who really cares?
 
Except we should care, because it's part of a much larger and worrying picture.
 
We know that all the big social media platforms manipulate the content that we see, shaping what gets heard and what doesn’t.
 
We also know who owns these platforms, and their political orientation. In a rare moment of accidental tech bro transparency, they even lined up together at Trump’s inauguration. Jeff Bezos: Amazon. Mark Zuckerberg: Meta/Facebook. Tim Cook: Apple. Sundar Pichai: Google. Elon Musk: X.
 
You've probably seen people using emojis and deliberate misspellings when talking about Palestine, genocide or ICE, to avoid triggering the mysterious algorithmic trapdoors. A recent report by 7amleh - The Arab Center for the Advancement of Social Media gathered testimonies from anonymous LinkedIn employees alleging that the company’s internal political landscape was dogged by anti-Palestinian racism, and moderation practices were being misused to suppress criticism of Israel.

Meanwhile, worrying research by Best For Britain showed how multiple new TikTok accounts – set up with different ages, locations, dates and IP addresses – were shown far-right, racist content within minutes, despite doing nothing to engage with it.

We live in a world where content related to women’s health is routinely censored (a white paper by CensHERship found that 95% of women’s health creators reported censorship on social media), while Grok persistently allowed users to digitally undress women for entertainment.
 
Just this week, a teenage girl wrote a shocking account for The Guardian detailing her daily experience of objectification and misogyny on social media.

In a sector all about connecting with people, social media is crucial in enabling us to increase participation in our services, raise money, build movements.
 
And it’s so easy to be seduced by the analytics. As we invest time in creating content, we watch our number of followers, impressions and reactions creep up.
 
This creates a reassuring sense of progress and permanence. We talk about “our” channels, “our” audience, “our” income streams.
 
But is it really our channel if we have to routinely self-censor in order to be heard?

Is it really our audience if we could be cut off overnight – either because we get banned for something we say, or because a different tech bro takes over and decides to change the rules, making the game unplayable?
 
It might feel like we’re building something on solid foundations, but it’s actually a bed of sand.

And that's not to mention the obvious ethical implications of participating on – and generating income for – platforms that are contributing towards the very problems we exist to solve.

​It's easy to feel powerless – and it's likely that disengaging from social media would harm your mission, income and service users.
 
I’m not suggesting doing this, but I do have some alternative suggestions:
 
Recognise the risks: building your work on the shaky foundations of social media comes with risks – operational, reputational, financial. But my sense is that this is a common blind spot. How many organisations have risk assessments that detail myriad unlikely scenarios, but have never even considered the potential impact if TikTok was switched off overnight, or LinkedIn was bought by an intolerable tech bro?

Having an honest conversation about the risks and your vulnerabilities – and the extent to which you really have control over what you rely on – will be helpful, even if there aren’t any easy solutions.
 
More platforms, less exposure: while you can’t prevent a platform becoming unviable for your organisation, you can minimise the damage this would do. Being active and building a following on a range of social platforms will reduce your vulnerability to external events.
 
I say this in the full knowledge that, at Lime Green, we've gone pretty much all-in on LinkedIn since coming off Twitter/X in 2024. It’s easy to become over-reliant on a platform that’s working well for you. That doesn't make it a good idea.
 
Beware the meaningless vanity metrics: sites like LinkedIn and Facebook provide you with endless data, but how much is it really telling you? Does gaining hundreds of followers, or thousands of post impressions, mean you’re actually achieving your objectives? Do those people actually engage with you? Are they even active, human users?
 
I heard a conversation between journalists recently where they talked about feeling reluctant to leave Twitter/X because they'd accumulated thousands of followers, even though the algorithm meant their content never got more than a handful of likes. They eventually left, and lost absolutely nothing. Platform data can give you a false feeling of comfort, but it’s not always a reliable guide to where you should focus your efforts or remain active.

Look beyond social media: because it's important, but it's not everything. It might bring us lots of fleeting connections, but it can lack the depth of other channels, as well as being at the mercy of billionaires.
 
At Lime Green, many of the people we interact with most frequently are email subscribers. There are people who open and click on every email but have never even engaged with us on LinkedIn. Email provides a safety net that social media could never offer – there’s no single event that could disconnect us from subscribers, and we’re not reliant on a platform to be able to talk to them – and it often makes for richer communication. For your organisation, your golden channels could be email, or post, or phone calls, or SMS.
​
My recent experience on LinkedIn – combined with so much of what I read – is making me re-evaluate how best to use social media.
 
Well, it's either that or just pack it all in, go off-grid and relocate to a cave in the woods. Some days it’s tempting, but I’m not quite there yet.

If you don’t love your job, leaving isn’t always the answer. There could be a way to ‘fix’ it.
 
This is particularly important in the current environment, when having a job can feel like a privilege to hold onto, no matter what.
 
Before knowing whether you could fix something, you need to understand what you might need to fix, or indeed if there’s anything that needs fixing.
 
It may be that any job - this one or your next one - will feel this way.
 
I studied Organisational Psychology, which is the study of human behaviour in the workplace. Like any academic discipline, it presents theories and frameworks to explain what’s happening. However, what tends to be missing from many of these theories is how individual priorities affect experiences inside work.
 
So rather than try to get a PhD and spend a decade developing a framework with my name on it, I sketched my theory out in a notebook, then refined it in Powerpoint:

The four quadrants represent the push and pull that we experience while in employment:

• Drifting - Primary focus is not work or career / Focus is your next job, not this one
• Comfortable - Primary focus is not work or career / Focus is this job
• Restless - Primary focus is work or career / Focus is your next job, not this one
• Invested - Primary focus is work or career / Focus is this job

While any employer can influence how you feel to some extent, these feelings are your own and they are influenced by many things beyond your immediate employment.

When you’re considering how you feel about your job, or indeed your wider career, it’s crucial to reflect on what these influences are.

The things that motivate us can sit across a spectrum from the intrinsic to the extrinsic.

Intrinsic = motivation to engage in a behaviour because of the inherent satisfaction of the activity

Extrinsic = motivation driven by external rewards: tangible, such as money, or intangible, such as praise 

​There can be an assumption that people who work in charities are intrinsically motivated. We have chosen a career that aligns with our values but which doesn’t pay as well as other careers do. This intrinsic motivation is gold dust for employers. It’s the kind of thing that big companies pay thousands to consultants to help them make their employees feel, so they enjoy their jobs more! However, it’s rarely as simple as that in practice.
 
When we hit our fundraising targets or do something particularly good, we want to be praised (extrinsic motivation), so if we’re not told well done, it can be demoralising.
 
Meanwhile, we want to know that the money we raised is going to be spent well (intrinsic motivation), so if we’re not convinced that it is meeting a need or being used well, it can make us feel less secure.

Drifting

• You hope to find a better balance elsewhere
• Doesn’t pay enough
• Employer doesn’t understand or respect your focus outside work
• Situation feels like enough is enough

​
Comfortable

• Meets your need for balance
• Pays enough
• Employer understands & respects your focus
• You have no energy to shift your focus to a different or next job!

Restless

• You’re bored or frustrated with the job itself
• Doesn’t pay enough
• You’re frustrated with the organisation
• You don’t feel sense of autonomy / control / respect

Invested

• Meets your need for progress / competence
• Pays enough
• Satisfies your values / hoped-for impact
• You feel a sense of autonomy / control / respect

Over three quarters of fundraisers are women (Breeze & Dale, 2020), which means that as a sector we’re far more likely to be balancing work with caring responsibilities: from children, to ageing parents, to a partner that always forgets to walk the dog.
 
But the push/pull of a life outside work isn’t uniquely experienced by women, caregivers or both. For some people their paid job gives them the security to pursue passions outside of work.
 
This is not something that your employer can directly influence! And nor should they.
 
Much like the adage, “it won’t get better if you pick it,” if someone’s primary focus is not their job and they’re doing it well, employers should recognise and accept this.
 
Of course, if your passions outside of work do affect how well you’re performing in your job, that is a problem! There is only so much leeway an employer can give without both of you needing to work out how to ensure your priorities are met outside work, and your responsibilities are met within it.
 
In contrast, there’s a scene in the first series of The West Wing, a TV show about a (very) fictional American President and his staff, where his Chief of Staff tells his wife that his job is “more important than my marriage.”
 
This blows my mind every time I watch it. Much as I love my work, I can’t imagine prioritising work over family. But this is a personal and valid choice.
 
There should not be judgement when it comes to reflecting on the things that influence your feelings. Especially don’t judge yourself.

​Do you want or need to earn more money? Remember, don’t judge yourself for your answer!
 
My weekly online shop used to be around £80-90. It’s now regularly over £100 and rising. My mortgage rate used to be 1.1%, it’s now nearly 4%, and I was pleased to even get that.
 
One of the main drivers for looking to another job will be how much you’re paid. And frankly, this can be a driver to consider something in the public or private sector instead. While the role of fundraiser doesn’t exist outside of our sector, our skills are chef’s kiss: other employers would be lucky to have us!
 
Or you may be feeling bored.
 
For all that fundraising is challenging, the day-to-day work can become repetitive. If you’re in an organisation that is risk averse, or doesn’t ‘allow’ people to have new ideas and try new things, it can become frustrating.

​When we moved into our first flat together, my now-husband knew that I wanted a bath. It was my non-negotiable.
 
There are things that feel important, but which - when forced to make a choice - aren’t that crucial. And then there are the things we won’t compromise on.
 
These change over time. Right now, raising a child with additional needs, I demand flexibility from my job. Perhaps in future it won’t be quite so necessary.
 
As you reflect, it is worth identifying what features and benefits, for you, are not up for debate.

We only have so much energy to expend each day. Some more than others, but even the Duracell bunnies of fundraising (thanks Alex Evans) have an upper limit.
 
Your options are either to try and fix things that you think could potentially be fixed or to try and find another job or career.
 
I once quit a job with nothing to go to. At the time it felt incredible! But I also had no dependents and lower monthly outgoings.
 
The feeling of saying “I quit”, especially if you’re in the Drifting or Restless category can bring a clarity of purpose that is empowering in the moment. Unfortunately this does not last long.
 
Once you have identified the things that are influencing your feelings, you’re in a better position to make a choice about where to put your energy: whether to Love your job or Leave it.
 
If this sounds familiar and you’d like to talk through your influences, your feelings and your options, Hannah offers a one-hour reflective session which you can book here:

https://peoplepurpose.co.uk/your-job-love-it-or-leave-it

Armed with strong coffee, ​I spent a few hours searching for funders with published guidance on the use of AI. I specifically looked at many large, national household names, did some Google searches and, yes, used Gemini AI (semi-successfully).

Where a funder had published guidance, I assessed their overall stance on using AI (from strongly positive to strongly negative), summarised their overall advice, listed the pros and cons they mentioned, and noted whether they use AI themselves.

By the time I reached 20 funders, I had a headache. Caffeine or information overload, who knows? I also felt like I had a decent sample size, including arms length bodies like Arts Council England and National Lottery Community Fund, national funders and local funders. It was getting harder to find new policies, so I stopped.

You can take a look at the raw data here. We’re be open to maintaining this as an ongoing resource for the sector, if that’s helpful.

A note on terminology. When I talk about AI in this blog, I mean generative AI: ChatGPT, Gemini, Copilot etc.

Most funders were either neutral or generally negative about the use of AI. While some funders touched briefly on the potential benefits, most went into more detail about the risks. More on that below.

The most common view overall was “use with caution”. Funders won’t penalise you specifically for the act of using AI, but, in their experience, there is a decent chance it will make your application weaker.

Only one funder seemed to have an overall positive stance on using AI – perhaps unsurprisingly, a tech funder. And only one funder had a strongly negative stance – and they focused on the impact of using AI in policymaking, rather than in funding applications.

60% of funders declared openly how they are using AI themselves, with not a single one currently using it for assessing applications and decision-making. Good news for anyone worried about a world which mostly involves computers talking to other computers.

However, some funders are using AI to support things like their processes, grant administration, and meeting notes. Several funders acknowledge that this is a fast-moving area and clearly plan to keep their decision under review, suggesting they might start using AI more as the technology improves.

That’s the headline news. I’ve gone deeper into a few trends below.

Many funders now ask applicants to declare whether they have used AI. Given that they insist this won’t be a factor in their decision-making, I assume this is primarily to monitor how widely AI is being used, and its impact on quality.

Presumably, funders will soon have sufficient data to break down the success rate of applications written with AI, without AI, or partially helped by AI. I’d be fascinated to see this data published in future.

It’s a reasonable approach but, as always, the challenge is whether the question will yield honest answers, given the power imbalance in the relationship. A bit like the questions some funders ask about how long their application took and any suggested improvements to their process, you have to wonder whether fundraisers will trust that giving an honest answer won’t disadvantage them.

​The most common concern that funders had was the quality of the output. This theme came up repeatedly, exemplified by these comments:

Of course, the question is whether funders truly know if an application is assisted by AI. It’s hard to tell whether this a fair judgement on the overall quality of AI applications, or just the obviously bad examples.

But there’s an important point here. Large Language Models (LLMs) are created using a vast number of written work examples. They are, quite literally, an average of everyone’s writing. So what they produce will sound average. It would be a miracle if the language didn’t sound generic and monotonous, without the same phrases cropping up repeatedly. Not great if you’re a funder reading through 50 applications that day. And that’s before we get into AI’s tendency to “hallucinate” and make up statistics, sources etc.

Several funders were keen to emphasise that they don’t assess applications based on things like spelling and grammar. The “soul” of an application is evidently more important than its superficial appearance.

If we take funders at face value on this (and I do wonder if they overestimate their ability to strip out the unconscious bias when assessing applications), then this is encouraging to those fundraisers who aren’t natural or prolific writers. It also explains why AI – with its focus on format over content – isn’t proving hugely effective for application writing.

Where funders spoke positively about AI, they often cited how it can benefit grassroots community groups, people with little experience of writing applications, and those facing language barriers.

Particularly for these groups, some funders recognised the potential of AI to save time, improve accessibility, and support creativity. The implication is that it might help level the playing field for people who find writing applications hardest, even if it doesn’t enhance the work of seasoned fundraisers.

Reading their full statements, I can’t help but feel sceptical about this. It feels like a contradiction to simultaneously say that AI produces generic, inaccurate writing, but also helps people who lack the time, skills and circumstances to write a good application.

Being able to harness AI to write applications seems to depend heavily on your ability to access more sophisticated tools, write clear and intentional prompts, and spot what mediocre AI writing looks like. Logically, that will be harder for organisations and people who face barriers, not easier. In which case, AI seems more likely to widen the difference between good and bad, not reduce it.

​While funder more often focus on quality, many also refer wider implications such as the security of data (especially when using free tools), the lack of AI regulation, in-built biases that perpetuate discrimination, the erosion of copyright and intellectual property, and the huge environmental impact of using AI.

Unsurprisingly, sector-specific funders tend to zone in on the most salient issues for them. For example, Arts Council England voice concerns about the moral and legal rights of creators, Joseph Rowntree Foundation cite the risk of “scaling injustice”.

In general, funders in the arts, science and tech sectors – for whom concerns about the use of AI are likely to be directly relevant to their work – tend to have more detailed policy stances that look beyond the quality of output.

Firstly, read what funders are saying about AI, and heed their advice.

Many funders have impressively detailed and balanced statements on using AI. This is clearly a live issue, prompting plenty of reflection. Their advice on the risks of AI, and how to use it carefully and responsively, is generally sound. Their insights into how the use of AI impacts their assessment process – whether or not we personally agree – are significant.

Think of AI as a tool that can potentially support you with certain aspects of the trusts fundraising process, including as a sounding board, particularly in areas where you might personally be weaker. But only if you use careful, specific prompts, check the results carefully, and take steps to safeguard your data.

Don’t see AI as a primary solution to the current funding crisis. It’s unlikely to save you time, or improve the quality of your work, as much as you hope. This is really important to keep in mind when we’re all under pressure to save time, and AI companies are busy promising us the moon on a stick.

And if you don’t trust AI to draft your application, consider whether you should trust it to edit it. In asking AI to critique your draft or cut it down to the word limit, be mindful that there’s still scope for it to strip out originality and that language you’ve deliberately used to mirror a funder’s guidance notes.

Finally, as fundraisers navigate the use of AI in their own work, it’s also something our organisations will increasingly need to take a stance on. Funders are alive to the wider legal, ethical and environmental issues. Even if AI improves the quality of your work, you may well get asked whether it’s in line with your mission and values, particularly if you work in a sector where these concerns are most relevant.

Read more about our own views on the use of AI here.

Here is everything that went into creating your strategy. It’s the hard work that made everything possible. The sweat and the tears (hopefully not any blood, though I’ve been in strategy meetings that have come close).

Behind every bold vision and brilliant decision, there’s a whole lot of stakeholder consultation, analysis of the landscape, competitor research, and decision-making workshops.

This is simultaneously the most important part of the strategy process, and the least interesting part once you’re done.

But it does have ongoing value. It’s important to document your process, because this is the evidence base for all your big decisions – why you committed to certain objectives, why you decided not to do certain things.

There are certain points when every organisation doubts their strategy. Perhaps circumstances have changed, new opportunities have arisen, new leadership have joined. You're wondering whether to change course.

This is when it’s vital to remind people (or explain to them for the first time) the thinking that underpinned your approach. Recalling your key methods, observations and conclusions can provide the confidence needed to stick to your strategy, or the context needed to change it where necessary.

When I’m working on a strategy, I’ll always make sure there’s a lengthy but clear report that documents all the work we did to lay the foundations for our decision-making. 95% of people will never read it again, and that’s ok. But when someone needs to reach for it, it's there.

This part is centre stage for a reason. It’s the main event, and a thing of beauty when you get it right.

Your published strategy is what everyone will read – it should be a summary of your main objectives and activities, your intended outcomes, and the big picture of why this is important. You should include your vision, mission and values, especially if you’ve updated them as part of your strategy*.

It's also helpful to highlight any key internal objectives that underpin your strategy, such as improving collaborative working, refining impact measurement or investing in fundraising. This helps to make you accountable ands build trust in your organisation.

But the key word here is summary. You want everyone to be able to understand it without getting confused or bored. Challenge yourself to keep this part to 1-2 pages if you can. I’m a big fan of presenting your published strategy as an infographic or chart, rather than paragraphs of text.

Use clear, concise, action-orientated words. Avoid jargon and acronyms. Ask key people (staff, service users, partner organisations etc.) to provide honest feedback on whether they understand and feel excited by it. It may be helpful to create a longer version initially then edit it down across a few drafts.

*I have some issues with the way that charities typically explain their mission and particularly values, but that’s a blog topic for another day.

A 1-2 page strategy may look exciting. But on its own, it's unlikely to achieve much.

Creating an internal strategy version will provide the full picture: detailed objectives, planned activities, timeline, key resources and infrastructure needed. This is the manual that helps your team to turn your strategy into reality: what they need to focus on doing, or changing.

This will be longer and more practical than the published strategy, but still less detailed than an operational plan. It will probably detail a more prescriptive approach for Year 1, then a more high-level plan for future years – this ensures your strategy feels actionable but not too restrictive.

You should still aim for clear and concise language, format it nicely, and avoid jargon. People must be able to find what they need, and feel clearer and better after reading it.

This full, internal version is actually what makes your 1-2 page published strategy possible. By putting all the important detail needed for internal use in a separate place, you can create a much clearer, more concise external version.

This a great way to create a strategy that caters for multiple audiences with different needs, giving them varying levels of detail. It enables you to produce something that's easy to both understand and implement.

After all, what is the point of a strategy?

We want something that holds us accountable, that we can measure progress against. We want it to serve as a guide for our team, helping them to understand what they’re aiming to achieve, what they should generally prioritise, and how they should approach tricky decisions along the way. We want to be able to retrace our steps in moments of crisis or doubt.

We don't want a lengthy tome that nobody ever dares open, but neither do we want something that feels too flimsy to be relevant.

The bow tie approach will help you to achieve what you need from a strategy, while removing this tension.

Is your organisation about to develop a new strategy? I'd love to have a chat about your plans and explore how we could help.

You’ve found a funder that appears to be well-aligned. It requests applications in writing, so you look for the address. It doesn’t appear to be a law firm or accountant at first glance, but it’s a mysterious P.O. Box,  peculiarly named house, or simply ‘Unit 146’… 

How can you tell whether your application is going to land in the hands of a trustee, in a huge pile on a solicitor’s desk, or be left for weeks in a mailbox that may or may not be watertight?

While a search engine can sometimes answer your question, often using Street View to examine the surroundings is a great extra level of digging. 

If you see a residential suburb, or detached cottage in the sticks, you can be fairly certain this is where a trustee or secretary resides. This provides at least some reassurance that your application will land directly in the hands of a relevant decision-maker.

An office block with tinted windows in a commercial district? Most likely a professional gatekeeper – you might want to reconsider whether posting something without prior communication is really worth it.

​Picking a random funder address, I’ve immediately been able to identify that this does, in fact, belong to a Post Office – and is therefore likely to either be forwarded to another address, or routinely collected by a secretary:

In this case, an initial phone call might give you an opportunity to ask whether the address provided is really the best one to use. You might want to consider using signed-for delivery, especially for larger bids, or decide to first send an expression of interest before taking the plunge with a full application.

It's a small detail, but could make the difference. Trusts fundraising really is like being a detective sometimes. 

​“We are currently closed to new applications. Please check back here soon for details of our re-opening.”

Have you ever read a statement like this and thought, ‘how soon is soon?!'

Is it a ‘dinner will be ready soon’, or a Labour Government 'things will get better soon'? They mean VERY different things, apparently.

In the current landscape, we're all waiting on tenterhooks for a favourite funder to reopen their programme or finally unveil big strategic changes. Manually checking websites takes time, and it's easy to miss a big announcement.

Enter Visualping: a tool that enables you to monitor specific webpages.

Just pop in the relevant URL and Visualping will notify you when the webpage is updated, so you can see what has changed. A great way to get yourself to the front of the queue when a funder wakes from their slumbers.

Do they even still make these things?! 

Indeed, they do, and not everything in my toolbox requires an internet connection. 

In a digitalised age – especially as we're engulfed by AI – preserving human touches is more important than ever.

Grantmaking trusts seem to have a tendency to move at a snail’s pace when it comes to modernisation. Many funders still only accept applications in writing. Yes, I mean snail mail. And, yes, the pun is intentional.

Whilst inconvenient, this method does allow you to retain some humanity – if you’ll let it. 

Instead of inserting your e-signature before printing, sign your application by hand. Instead of printing the address, get out your nicest pen and write it by hand.

It may take you a few extra minutes, but adding this personal touch and showing that extra level of care may well be the reason a funder picks up your application from the pile.

(Disclaimer: ok, this tool technically isn't free. But you probably have a nice pen lying around somewhere. This blog does not condone or endorse the shoplifting of pens, fountain or otherwise.)

We've all been guilty of writing that knockout sentence that we're convinced is going to conquer a funder's heart and mind, only to read it back the next day and realise it's an impenetrable word salad.

The truth is, it's all too easy to get bogged down in our writing, and too close to our work.

One of our top application writing tips is to keep the reader’s interest. Your application will very likely be one of many reviewed that day. The stakes are high if you want them to read from start to finish, and not get bored half way through. And keeping your language balanced, clear and interesting is key to this.

This is why I love ​Hemingway, an online tool that reviews your writing and suggests way to make it bolder and clearer. Just copy/paste written text into the box and it will flag sentences that are hard to read, and words that have a simpler alternative.

​This isn’t a perfect tool, because of course it doesn't know the recipient or the context in which you’re writing. However it’s still a great starting point for reviewing the first draft of a funding application or end of grant report.

Here's an example of what Hemingway will tell you, based on this section of writing. The irony of my first sentence being flagged red is too good to change.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve reviewed a funding application, only to end up with my head in my hands after reading the word ‘important’ four times in two sentences. 

Other routine offenders: vital, support, difference, community, help, valuable, improve, affect, impact…

All very topical words. All very clear and easy-to-understand. But all very quickly become redundant when used frequently in quick succession. 

I know how difficult I find trying to organically come up with alternative words that mean the same thing (synonyms). An online thesaurus has often been my lifeline to avoid giving the funder cognitive indigestion. 

‘Important’ soon becomes key, major, significant, noteworthy, prominent, influential, central, leading…depending on the context of my sentence.

There’s a crucial caveat, though. Don’t be tempted to use overly complex words to impress. Straightforward language that gets to the heart of your point will always be better received by a funder who’s grimacing at the number of applications still left on their desk for review before 5pm.

The two tools immediately above can help you to refine your writing. But when it comes to basic proof reading – catching and correcting silly typos – we often rely on our brains and eyes.

But these are fallible, especially when we're tired and re-reading our application for the fifth time, half an hour before the deadline. It's too easy to end up reading what we think we've written, not what we actually put down.

​(Fun fact: my cat once walked across my keyboard while I was proof reading an application before sending it to a charity client, leading to a very confused conversation about the strange series of characters that appeared midway through my otherwise rousing grant request.)

Read aloud software is great for spotting the mistakes that my eyes miss. When a voice reads your writing out loud, there's no hiding place.

Microsoft Word and Google Docs have built-in read aloud tools. Or check out an online tool like NaturalReader, where you can choose from a wide range of different voices, accents and genders. Just make sure you check the privacy policy of any online tool that you use, especially if you're inputting sensitive information.

Got any unexpectedly useful tools in your own trusts fundraising toolbox? Let us know in the comments ⬇️

(TL;DR: somewhat, but not hugely)
 
Over the years, more funders have gradually opened up their eligibility criteria. A decent number funders – particularly larger, more strategic and more relational ones – will fund CICs. Others that traditionally haven’t funded CICs, like Lloyds Bank Foundation, have recently started including CICs for specific funding programmes. More progressive funders often recognise that, for organisations focused on long-term systems change and campaigning, being a registered charity can be too restrictive.
 
But this shift has always been very slow. As a whole, the funding world moves at a glacial pace. A significant proportion of funders, particularly the shy types that don’t have grantgiving staff and shelter behind a law firm or solicitor – including many sizeable family foundations – still have a blanket "charities only" policy. Jem Stein’s excellent LinkedIn post – and the discussion it prompted – covers some of the funding challenges for CICs.

My gut feeling is that many funders simply haven’t got their head around what a CIC is – to them, “charity” is shorthand for “vaguely trustworthy” and anything else simply isn’t. And in the current climate, with funders overstretched by huge demand, there's not much incentive to open up eligibility. Restricting applications to charities is one quick way to reduce the number they receive. I worry that even funders that officially fund CICs will be thinking along these lines too.
 
Just to complicate things further, there are funders in the opposite camp – they don't openly say they fund CICs, but will consider it if they know and like your work. This is where a relationship-driven approach or initial phone call can really help.
 
In my experience, you’re more likely to persuade a funder to fund your CIC if you can give a good strategic reason for your choice. For example, if you have a clear, credible vision (even if long-term) to generate a significant portion of your income from trading, or you want to undertake activities that are problematic for a charity. If you’re a CIC simply because it enabled you to register more quickly and keep your governance simpler, then – rightly or wrongly – that’s less likely to wash with funders.

​Regardless of legal structure, this can be problematic.
 
Firstly, seeking grants primarily to subsidise the cost of your activities is rarely a compelling proposition for funders. I’ve seen organisations outline this very literally in applications, for example: “A grant of £10,000 will pay for X students to enrol in our course at half the personal cost.”
 
I understand why organisations start off thinking along these lines, but funders want to enable social impact, not subsidise the cost of activities. They care about the Why, not the What. To get their attention, you’ll need to completely reframe your proposition.
 
Secondly, if you’ve historically focused on trading, you may not be set up to measure and demonstrate your impact – because you haven't needed to. Even if you create a robust way of doing this from now, you may not have an existing track record of impact data, and you'll be competing against others that do.
 
Finally, you’ll need to consider your wider communications materials beyond your application. Funders will search for these, whether you provide them or not. Even if you write a brilliant funding application outlining your future plans, if your website is geared around selling things to customers, and you don’t have things like an impact report, this might put off funders in an ultra-competitive landscape.

​I really don't want to discourage and demotivate people – it’s hard enough right now as it is. But, even more so, I don’t want to encourage organisations to spend time and money on things that are unlikely to yield a return.
 
You might think that the hardest part of being a fundraising consultancy right now is securing funding, or finding clients. But it’s actually having difficult conversations with people who need funding and want our help, but where we feel we're unlikely to achieve success together.
 
If you’re a CIC, or organisation pivoting away from trading income, it’s worth thinking about the challenges above and how well-equipped you are to work through them. Putting in place the foundations for trusts fundraising takes time, and funders currently have little appetite for taking risks on unproven grantees. Now is a tough time to start securing grants. Don't get me wrong, some will succeed. But plenty more will not.
 
We’re absolutely open to working with CICs and other forms of not-for-profit via our strategic support and training.
 
And we’ll still explore providing trusts fundraising support too – but we’ll need to ask you plenty of questions.

Because, when deciding whether we can help you, we'll always focus less on “How much do you need funding?”, and more on “Do we think you can achieve a positive return on investing in our support?”

Yes, there’s potential for AI to help us with tasks like writing funding applications and strategy reports. But this isn’t easy to do without compromising on quality and humanity. Plus writing is something our team feel very passionate about, and hugely enjoy. They want to be writers, not AI prompters.

On the other hand, we do plenty of tasks that are less fun and require less specialist skill. Deciphering and writing up handwritten notes. Sifting through hundreds of post-its to group together ideas and remove duplicate points. Copying and pasting template application text into the right boxes on a form. Collating feedback after training courses.

These tasks need to be done with care. We wouldn't automate them until we were sure we could do it reliably and accurately.

But this is likely to be much easier than automating highly-skilled tasks where creativity and humanity are essential. So what would be the sense in starting with the problematic, complex bit?
​
If you’re just starting out with AI, it’s so easy to be drawn to the eye-catching things you see other people doing. Yes, there’s still novelty and wonder in seemingly creating content out of nothing. But that doesn’t mean you should do it too. Start with automating the faffy tasks that nobody would cry about never doing again.

Any of us can open ChatGPT today, feed it some text about our organisation, and ask it to draft an answer to a funding question. But what happens to the information we share? How is the answer crafted? Does it sound like us?

There are many legitimate concerns with AI in terms of data security, accuracy and originality. But these often stem from people using the wrong tools and the wrong prompts for the job.

Free tools seem attractive, but the real cost may be that the information you provide will be used to train the model, compromising your data. To quote a common tech world saying: if you're not paying for the product, you are the product.

Better to find UK-based, GDPR-compliant platforms (read the privacy policy carefully) where you can pay a moderate subscription fee then untick the boxes that give permission to use your data to train the model.

Also, make sure you’re using the right tool and the right prompts for the job.

If you ask Microsoft Copilot to simply draft, for example, an expression of interest for Esmée Fairbairn, the answer will sound generic, because the text it produces is literally the average of millions of other people’s writing. And it can’t tailor the language to funding guidelines it doesn’t know about.
​
But creating a tool specifically for funding applications, inputting lots of examples of your writing to ‘train’ it to sound like you, then giving a detailed prompt that reflects what you know about a funder and what they say they’re looking for? That's far more likely to produce a decent first draft you can work with.

We initially identified dozens of tasks we could theoretically automate. But if we tried to do all that, we’d burn through time and money, and probably tear our hair out.

So we’re planning a phased approach which starts by automating simpler, lower-risk tasks (see above). We’ll see how this works, what goes wrong, whether we actually save time. And we’ll make sure a human is always involved to meticulously check what is produced, knowing what problems to look out for.

For example, we’re exploring whether we can create a tool that takes the content in a case for support and uses it to populate an extremely rough draft of a common funding application, such as for Reaching Communities or Garfield Weston.

We know from experience which sections of a case for support we typically pop into which application questions, and what type of information is particularly relevant. AI can potentially speed up this initial process. Then a human can take over and do the highly skilled tailoring and editing.

If this works well, we might eventually look at using AI more extensively in bid writing. But frankly, if AI can’t do a good job of creating a rough starting template, we’ll never trust it with more complex writing tasks.
​
Moving slowly will allow us to maintain quality, use what we learn to create better tools, and avoid overwhelming the team with too many new platforms and processes at once.

As a team, we've had some challenging conversations about the environmental and ethical implications of using AI.

Firstly, this as a good thing. It’s so important to create a space for these discussions. When people are honest yet open-minded about their concerns, this only strengthens your approach.

We know that AI has a significant environmental impact, and big tech corporations have built tools that harvest and profit from people’s creative content in ways that are ethically very questionable.

We also know that the charity sector is in crisis and would hugely benefit from any new approaches that save time and money.

And we know that some AI tools – and some ways of using them – are better and worse than others. Finally, AI isn’t going away, and the environmental impact should decrease as technology improves and as more people understand how to use it responsibly.

So, we can choose not to participate (honestly, we’ve considered it). Or we can explore it while being open about the negative impacts, learning and sharing everything we can, and advocating for a better approach.

And we can moderate our own usage, for example by not using AI for things a conventional search engine can help with just as well, or for frivolous trend-chasing (AI action figures, I’m looking at you).

When it comes to ethics, I've realised there are some parallels between AI and fundraising. Just as the AI industry is built on stolen data and environmental harm, so too are the fortunes of many funders and philanthropists built on stolen wealth and environmentally catastrophic business practices.
​
Charities need their money, but don't have to like or remain silent about where it comes from – and can have red lines about what is acceptable and not, aligned with their values. Similarly, we need the efficiency AI can bring, but we can be mindful and vocal about the ethical and environmental cost, and discerning about which tools we use.

​Yes, AI can potentially save huge amounts of time, but that’s not guaranteed to be A Good Thing.

After all, capitalism doesn’t have a great track record of translating technological progress into social gains. The loom, automated factory assembly lines, and the Internet have all been hailed as gamechangers that will transform people’s productivity and quality of life. But while the rich have got richer, everyday people have to work harder than ever. Today, for all our technology, our mental health is in crisis.

So a good AI strategy should have an end goal that is about more than saving time.
​
For us, we hope that finding significant AI efficiency savings would ultimately help us to achieve savings for charity clients and pay our team members better, as well as making a modest improvement to profit margins. In the current landscape, it is incredibly difficult as a small business to balance all these things, and perhaps AI can be part of the solution.

For charities and social enterprises, using AI shouldn't just be about saving time and money, but relieving pressure and improving working conditions for staff where possible.

Now we have a vision of how, when and why to use AI, we'll begin the process of creating our own custom-built tools. But we won’t start using these until we have created and published a transparent AI policy.
​
This will be underpinned by a few key principles:

1. We won't input any sensitive data into any AI tool that is used to train the model or sits outside the scope of GDPR
2. We won't use generic tools for specific tasks in a way that compromises on quality or accuracy
3. Anything we produce using AI will be thoroughly and critically reviewed by a human
4. We’ll try to use AI to make us more creative rather than less, by automating the faffy tasks that people don’t enjoy and freeing up their time for the highly-skilled, creative tasks that they do enjoy
5. We'll experiment, reflect and share learning with the sector in a way that models a thoughtful, ethical approach to using AI

These principles will help to ensure our use of AI is a net positive for our work. Whether you're currently an AI enthusiast or an AI sceptic, I hope they'll prove useful for you too.

I know the feeling: you come across a golden opportunity to apply for a five-figure grant that could transform your organisation. What’s more, the application is online, the window is open, and you’re ready for the taking. 

You’re sucked in by the offer and what it could achieve…so much that, upon reading the eligibility criteria, you begin doing a little ‘creative stretching’. You justify to yourself why and how your organisation meets the funder’s criteria: “they fund Welsh heritage, we’re an ocean conservation charity…so yeah, we’re both interested in saving the W(h)ales”. It’s a daft example, but you get my (longshore) drift.

Funders have objectives too, which they fulfil through selecting the charities or projects which align best with these. At times, it can be easy – even unconsciously – to start shoehorning your organisation’s mission into the opportunities you find. It’s even more tempting when you’re passionate about what you do and have seen the real impact of your work. 

Or, worse still, you begin creating new projects just to fit the funder’s criteria – risking mission drift and succumbing to philanthropic paternalism. 

Remember, even if you’re a volunteer – the organisation pays for every hour you spend on applications – in time, money or both. Sometimes it’s easy to fall into a lottery mindset when applying for grants: “well, if we don’t buy a ticket, we definitely won’t win”.

But with limited resources and mounting pressure to secure funds, sometimes it’s better not to apply to that grant and to focus your efforts on funders whose objectives are clearly aligned with yours. This could mean turning away from some opportunities that appear lucrative, but if you’re really being honest – it’s not a £50k opportunity if you’re not really eligible. 

Which leads me nicely on to one of the most common reasons funders reject applications: not meeting their funding criteria. If your funder successfully passes tip #1, then show them explicitly how your organisation or project meets their specifications!

Some applications make this easy by directly asking this question. For those that don’t – where possible and relevant within an application framework, tell them anyway!

​The key is to be as specific as you can, relating their priorities directly to your organisation’s activities and outcomes, and backing it up with evidence. Don’t just repeat their priorities back to them (they should really know these). Help them to understand why investing in your specific project or organisation will help them to achieve their goals, too.

Generally speaking, the wider the remit of a funder, the more applications it receives. Funders making grants throughout the UK to a broad range of purposes will receive far more applications (eligible and ineligible) than those granting in a specific geographical area or with very niche interests. 

It can be tempting to get your application count up by firing off applications to lots of generic funders, with vague priorities such as ‘relief of human suffering’ or ‘education’ – especially those that are open to charities of all shapes, sizes and locations.

However, it’s important to remember that with great variety also comes great competition. With the exception of a few mega funders with very high capacities, such as Garfield Weston, most have tight limits on the number and size of grants they can make. Just because their interests are (seemingly) wide, sadly it doesn’t mean their funds stretch any further. 

In the current climate, your application to a generic funder is going to be one of hundreds – even thousands. Just like how remote jobs are more competitive than local ones, a lot of strong applications miss out. Unless you have limitless capacity for churning out well-written, tailored applications (and not unchecked AI-generated dribble), be wise and realistic when it comes to your prospect research and which applications to prioritise. 

If your organisation’s activities are based in a specific region – or if your aims are similarly niche – looking for funders whose giving is restricted to your certain area or set of priorities is likely going to generate better odds in your favour. Between a popular £20k grant offered nationally to a broad range of purposes and four or five £5k grants with more restricted parameters that are aligned with your own – contrary to popular belief, chasing the ‘big wins’ might not necessarily be strategic in the current context. 

We’ve shared our in-depth case for support framework in a previous blog, so I won’t repeat the whys and hows here. Your case for support is an incredibly important internal tool that you can use as a springboard in your applications. It’s also a key resource for helping you identify and address any gaps or weaknesses in your organisation/projects. 

Like any policy or strategy you create, it’s important to keep revisiting your case for support and keeping it sharp. A good case for support is always a live document. As you evolve, find new evidence, collect more data, keep adding, tweaking, updating and strengthening your arguments.    

​With increased competition, funders are becoming more stringent with their due diligence and regulatory checks. Keep a close eye on all of your public material and any documents you’re providing funders, such as accounts, policies and annual reports – checking for any anomalies or discrepancies that might raise questions. 

Remember, funders will do their homework. They need to be confident that they’re investing wisely. Particularly for cold applications, funders are often coming blind to your organisation and will be looking out for potential risks that seed doubt. Something that makes perfect sense to you may come across completely differently to a trustee overwhelmed with applications and needing to make difficult shortlisting decisions.

For example, is the messaging on our website consistent with our applications? Is there anything in our accounts that may raise eyebrows, and can we explain this? If we’ve rebranded, changed name or location, have we updated this everywhere? What appears when we Google our organisation? (Yes, Googling yourself is a perfectly reasonable form of evaluation).

Where previously it may have been possible to rely more on generating income through cold appeals, this approach is now rarely sufficient to get noticed. Relationship-first fundraising and good funder stewardship – with a focus on quality, not quantity – is more important than ever. 

This means making human connection, picking up the phone, soliciting meetings, inviting funders to see your work, accompanying your applications with bespoke cover letters – even if the funder has an open application process. 

Being clear and consistent with your record-keeping, making sure that you’re meeting each of your funders’ requirements for reporting in a timely manner, is essential. There’s nothing worse than getting funders mixed up, or accidentally double-texting (okay, probably emailing). 

Go the extra mile to develop and maintain strong relationships, both with cold and existing funders. Click here for more tips on building relationships with invitation-only funders – these ideas can be applied to those important ‘open’ funders, too.

I’ve spoken to many fundraisers recently feeling immense pressure from above – whether that's trustees, CEOs or senior management – struggling to hit targets, feeling isolated in their role, and faced with a lack of empathy and understanding. Communicating with leaders who aren’t experienced or recent fundraisers can be extremely discouraging when they just don’t understand the nuanced challenges facing the sector at present.

There’s no one-size-fits-all approach for managing these, sometimes very challenging, team dynamics and professional relationships. However, sharing objective knowledge that comes from an outside source can be more effective in helping your team comprehend some of your contextual challenges.

We have been blessed as a sector with many insightful resources produced by fundraising experts. Providing your team with ‘evidence’ is likely to be more informative and could help your organisation to adjust expectations, adapt and think creatively, and set more considered targets.

​Some of our reading recommendations can be found on this post by the Small Charity Friendly Collective.

This is of utmost importance. With the best will in the world, there is no getting away from the reality: trusts funding is tougher than tough at the moment. You will get rejections; probably lots of them. After a while, it can be hard not to take it personally.

So, if you only take one thing away: give yourself grace. We know the current state of the sector is taking its toll on the mental health of fundraisers and charity leaders. Prioritise doing the things that keep you refreshed and well, whatever those may be. Seek support, take time out if you need to, and utilise the resources and support available.

​Remember, you are very much not in this alone.

Summer 2024 and the cautious optimism brought by a change of UK government feels a million years ago already. Trump 2.0 has been everything we feared, but with more fascist salutes and chainsaw-wielding billionaires. In recent days, a far-right party has just come second in federal elections in Germany with ~20% of the vote.

Closer to home, Labour has been a very mixed bag (that's if we're being charitable) including a string of avoidable bad news stories, plunging approval ratings and some woeful performative nonsense on immigration.

Suddenly, a Conservative or Reform government - possibly a monstrous merger of the two - in just four years time feels horrifyingly plausible. 2024 showed us that economic strife brings down governments, regardless of who is in power. And the likely economic shocks emanating from Trump - a Catherine wheel of erratic policy announcements and petulant tariffs - are likely to blow away whatever green shoots are slowly sprouting from this Labour Government (and there are undoubtedly some).

And that's exactly what happened in the US last year - people lost faith with and rejected a long-term project that was bringing about steady economic improvement but not making enough people feel better-off in the short-term, then voted in something far worse.

I know I'm not alone in these concerns - chocolate consumption by our friends over at LarkOwl is off the scale:

So much of our media is explicitly right-leaning, billionaire-owned, riddled with vested interests. Online platforms are full of hatred, with designed-in toxicity. The interests, needs and voices of so many people simply aren't represented anywhere.

Many outlets simply aren’t fit for purpose. This is typified by the BBC, a once dignified old ship being battered by the waves of change. Reacting too slowly to one trend, as they continue to allow their entire news agenda to be dictated by a print media consumed by people who are increasingly older, politically homogenous and few in number. Overreacting to another trend, as they seemingly buy the myth that "nobody has much attention span any more” and dumb down proper debate and scrutiny into shorter, ever more meaningless soundbites.

And we have a Labour government that seemingly can't muster a strategy to combat this and is instead flailing around throwing red meat to Reform voters.

There's no nuance to our mainstream debates about the NHS, tax rises, winter fuel payments. Nobody in a position of authority seems capable of setting out a case for the benefits of things like immigration, or closer alignment with the EU.

People are losing faith in the status quo, making them ripe for exploitation by those who will take their vote then do nothing to serve their interests. And there seems to be no coherent movement to combat this on the left, which is seemingly resigned to losing the argument and being unable to reach the people we need to.

There's something about the current landscape that doesn't add up to me.

People supposedly don't care for detail and have little attention span, yet Joe Rogan's podcast with its mammoth three-hour episodes consistently tops the charts.

And we know people do care deeply about their wellbeing - they spend a high proportion of whatever disposable income they have on it, and social media is saturated with wellness advice and products. But the number one determinant of health and wellbeing – a functioning society that provides good healthcare, social care and housing – is precisely what's under threat.

In these contradictions lie a glimmer of hope, if we can figure out a way forward.

The charity sector, which has lost so much in recent years, still has the benefit of connection. In a world where we descend deeper into our echo chambers, charities reach across the divide to support, bring together and engage people. Vulnerable people with zero interest in the news, and zero faith in politics, trust us and interact with us on a daily basis.

Of course we mustn't abuse that trust by preaching to people, treating them like children, or inducing them to make specific decisions.

But could we find ways to make politics more relevant to them and shine a light on those who will ultimately do them harm? Could we support them to mobilise, advocate for themselves and see the power of their decisions?

In all honesty, I'm tired of this argument that our sector has to stay out of politics.

​Most people acknowledge we're not just here to deal with symptoms and dole out sticking plasters. We have to identify root causes, challenge oppression, seek systemic solutions.

Perhaps, until recently, it's been just about ok to be passive and cautious in this role. But, increasingly, those root causes and that oppression take the form of fascist governments that ally racist leaders with chainsaw-wielding billionaires. When the game changes, the rules of engagement must too.

There's a difference between being political and party political. Nobody is asking you to put Green Party stickers in your office window or an inflatable Keir Starmer in your meeting room. But having tricky conversations about the rise of the far right, and how it impacts your cause and the people you support, shouldn't be off limits.

I'd be lying if I said I had the answers.

Simply having the conversation as a Board or leadership team is a helpful starting point. Also, thinking how and where you might reflect this in your organisational strategy.

I shared some short-term tips in this previous blog, focused on the upcoming 2024 General Election. Many of these tips still stand: encouraging people to register to vote at the appropriate point, amplifying relevant policy issues, combatting disinformation.

This is a start, but it won't be enough. We need new ways to engage people, connect social issues with their lives, and challenge the lies and liars that dominate our news agenda. We need our sector, and our issues, to be part of the discussion on politics podcasts and beyond.

I don't know how, but I didn’t want to not write something because of that. If this can’t be a blog full of practical advice, it can be a cry for help. Or, at the very least, a cry of pain.

Because, make no mistake, finding solutions over the next four years could be one of the most important things we ever do.

Like Trump 2.0, future right-wing Governments will be bolder, better organised, more enabled by the elite. They'll continue to tear up our social and political norms, erode the checks and balances of democracy, and slash funding for social causes. If we can’t act now, the path back could become almost impossible to navigate.

So if you don't know the answers either, let's start by at least talking about the issue, sharing ideas, building a movement. If you have suggestions, we're all ears. Even better, add them as comments below.

Just don’t be silent and complacent. We simply can’t afford to.

“Essential to the far right's advance is the narrative of inevitability. Essential to resistance is [...] an acknowledgement that we are not the passive recipients of history, but active agents within it. Nothing is foretold. The history is being written collectively by all of us.”
A quote from Alex Andreou on the most recent episode of Quiet Riot, one of those aforementioned politics podcasts