A moratorium on funder panels at conferences

Hi everyone. I hope you have had a nice break and were able to rest and recharge. I haven’t done one lick of writing in two months, so this post may be a bit rusty (especially as I refuse to use AI for any part of the writing process).

During my hiatus, I did speak at a conference, and I guess I was rusty at that too, because five angry people walked out of my keynote, probably due to some combination of my cussing, mentioning of white supremacy and wealth hoarding, or saying how foundations that have a “wait and see” approach when nonprofits are in multiple intersecting crises are assholes.  

Anyway, I stayed the rest of the first day and attended the closing plenary, which was a panel of funders. Now, before we go any further, let me reiterate that some of my best friends are funders, and there are many instances where funders can be very helpful when sharing their knowledge. I’m just not sure, after having been in the audience of so many of these events, that the funder panel format is more beneficial than detrimental to our sector.

A funder panel is usually a group of several program officers who are invited to share glimpses into their work and advice for nonprofit leaders. It all sounds useful, possibly even exciting, which is why so many conferences have them. And yet, they’ve always bothered me. Maybe it’s because without fail, I hear standard philanthropic tropes like “when you see one funder, you’ve seen one funder” and “resources are limited and we get sooooo many applications.”

I thought about why these events tend to annoy me, and having spoken to other colleagues, I know they annoy them too. Probably because of these reasons:

They normalize terrible grant philosophies and practices: It seems valuable on the surface for several funders to give advice on how nonprofits can increase their chance of getting funding. "Be concise in your proposals. Submit your proposals to the grant portal ahead of deadline. Don’t lie in your program reports." Etc. All reasonable. Except, by positioning all these things as the default, it prevents us from critically examining them. Why are funding “limited” when most foundations hoard 95% of their assets and only give out 5%? Why are funders all requiring unique proposals and reports in the first place and not just accepting proposals that are already written? Why can’t they just accept annual reports instead of requiring their own snowflake reports? Why is ok that each funder has their own aggravating grant portal for grantees to waste their time navigating through?

They entrench the severe existing power imbalance: One time, a new foundation CEO wanted to invite nonprofit leaders to a listening session. He asked for my advice. I told him it felt like the king is coming down to grace us peasants with his illustrious royal presence. Well, funder panels can also feel like that. A bunch of funders coming down to bestow knowledge upon the unwashed nonprofit masses. These events reinforce the unequal power dynamics of funders setting agendas, parameters, and processes, and nonprofits obeying. And of course, because of these power dynamics, nonprofits can’t really be honest in their comments and questions. Otherwise, many might say, “We know all this stuff you’re telling us! No need for this panel. Just give us more money so we can do our work and stop making us jump through all these ridiculous hoops!”

They are often patronizing and condescending: I’ve attended funder panels where program officers will talk about how challenging their jobs are, and how it is just as hard to give out money as it is to seek it. At one panel, my colleagues had a game where each time a funder mentioned “collaboration,” they all had to take a swig of water. (At least one person nearly peed their pants by the end). I’m sure nonprofit leaders, their faces gaunt and haunted from staying up late trying to figure out how they’re going to make payroll each cycle and if they need to lay off staff next quarter, just love hearing about how hard funders’ jobs are, how foundations are each unique unicorns that require special approaches, and how nonprofits need to collaborate more.

They make people focus on small insignificant issues while ignoring larger ones: I have seen few funder panels address serious issues weighing on everyone’s minds like the dismantling of democracy, the rise of authoritarianism, and the existential threats to our world. I have seen few talk about what they’re doing and funding in terms of political engagement as the midterm elections are coming up. The focus on insignificant, meaningless bullshit like grant reports lulls all of us into a sense of safety and normalcy. We don’t have to think about the exponential rise in fascism, environmental destruction, and the threats of AI, and our roles in stopping these things…when we can talk about how nonprofits can align with funding priorities and write concise proposals or whatever.

They disincentivize funders to participate in ongoing conversations: Sitting on the panel means a lot of funders feel like they’ve done their part, and they don’t need to participate in other ways. Most only attend the panel; few stay for the entire conference. Sure, they have important things to do. But don’t nonprofit leaders also have important things to do? One would argue their work is even more important. And yet these leaders dedicate their time to learning new skills, building community, and strategizing with their colleagues. Nonprofits leaders are having critical conversations, and it’s frustrating that funders are often absent. And the funder panel (and also funders leading a workshop or meet-and-greet or whatever) often provides a false sense of fulfilment of duty, and that leads to complacency.

For these and other reasons, I declare a moratorium on funding panels for the foreseeable future.

OK, fine, apparently no one pays attention to my edicts; very hurtful.

If you’re going to have a funder panel anyway, just keep the above things in mind. Figure out how to reduce the power dynamics. Perhaps have ways for audience members to ask questions or provide feedback anonymously. Maybe have some nonprofit leaders on the panel. Make sure the questions are not softballs; ask panelists to touch on uncomfortable but vital topics like democracy and fascism. Invite and encourage panelists to stay for the entire conference.

Funders, if you’re invited to be on a panel, be thoughtful. Understand that because of the power dynamics involved, everyone will be nodding along to everything you say as if it were gospel, when most people may really think you and your foundation are full of BS. Avoid cliches and jargon that may cause audience members to play water-drinking games; try to get out of your comfort zone and engage with topics on nonprofit leaders’ minds but they may not bring up, such as the sociopolitical situation, their fear and weariness at everything, and how the answer may just be for your foundation to give out more money.

And stick around for the full conference if you can. If not to build connections and engage in meaningful conversations, the tail end of conferences is when you can clean up at the vendors and exhibitors’ tables and end up with so many swag chapsticks and tiny containers of breath mints.

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