Beliefs: Know what is true to you

Every human being has beliefs about what is right. Those beliefs sculpt the way we understand the world, and they drive our actions.

Social change is the work of turning beliefs into verbs. We would be wise to recognize, however, that one dimension of human diversity is diversity of beliefs. Changemakers who acknowledge diversity of beliefs are simply more likely to succeed. Why? Because they will better understand their strategic context.

One of the most complex ethical puzzles facing the social change agent is how to reconcile our beliefs with those of others. Not everyone can or should believe the same thing. We fail to honor that diversity when we do not acknowledge that the person standing in front of us thinks differently than we do.³ In a time of stark political polarization, this challenge has become more acute and more urgent.

I’ll offer a lesson from my own experience. When I was CEO of GuideStar, many of our users told us they worried about nonprofits that were promoting an agenda of hate. GuideStar was the most widely used source of data about nonprofits, so we felt an obligation to act. And, in addition to the millions of users on guidestar.org, we provided data to giving platforms that facilitated billions of dollars in donations each year.

“Neutrality is dead and it has a place.”

Alix Guerrier⁴

We were confident that the proportion of nonprofits pushing a hateful agenda was small. But where could we find a list of “hate groups”? We turned to the Southern Poverty Law Center (SPLC), which had spent decades researching hate groups across the United States. GuideStar staff cross‐referenced the SPLC’s hate group list with our own and posted the data on our site.

Then, I got a call from the Associated Press. The reporter revealed to me our blind spot. The very definition of “hate group” had become a flashpoint in the culture wars that plagued our country. The SPLC’s definition of hate group—those that discriminated against others for their immutable characteristics—was coherent but, as we discovered, contested. The definition made sense to us, and indeed it still makes sense to me. But the truth is that others had a different view. For example, the SPLC’s list included groups that sought to restrict immigration. To the SPLC these groups were engaged in a racist campaign. But the organizations themselves insisted their work had economic or environmental motivations. Even by the SPLC’s definition, we had to impute motives to make a judgment.

As we navigated this experience—which later involved lawsuits, threats, and eventually removing the data—we got a stark lesson in the diversity of belief. We can and should fight for what we believe in; but we only succeed when we acknowledge that others may feel differently. Ultimately, our choice to flag a handful of nonprofits only seemed to enflame existing tensions and harden a cultural standoff.

Our experience trying to identify hate groups forced me to confront how I relate my own political beliefs to the rest of the world. I proudly consider myself a political progressive. I believe society can and must systematically tackle inequality and ecological destruction. I believe that bias and bigotry are embedded in the structures of our society. But I will not succeed in building what I see as a better world if I speak and act as if everyone feels the same way.

“You cannot hide the smoke when the house is burning.”

Chiku Malunga and Charles Banda⁵

Consequences: Acknowledge winners and losers

Choices yield winners and losers. There are those who benefit from a choice and those who do not. In the Game Theory chapter, we explore how to maximize the number of cases where everyone wins.

But, if we are to approach social change ethically, we ought to be honest about trade‐offs. It does us no good to pretend that choices only have the consequences we favor.

At the beginning of their careers, physicians pledge the Hippocratic Oath. There is a reason that the Oath’s famous first line is do no harm: even those tasked with healing can do the opposite. People building a better world should begin with the same aspiration. Unintended consequences are a real danger, even from the most innocent‐seeming act. We should all pause to ponder this haunting question from novelist and historian Ada Palmer: “how could the inventors of glitter know that they would poison the manatees?”⁶

The challenge is not to allow uncertainty to freeze our will. Instead, we can see uncertainty as an inspiration to clarify our purpose, think through the range of possible consequences, and hold ourselves accountable. Even as the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, so is the road to Heaven.

“Be angry but do not sin.”

Ephesians 4:26

There is also a strategic dimension to this ethical stance. When we are honest about the consequences of our choices, it is much easier to understand why different constituencies have different beliefs. Then we can use this information to anticipate objections, neutralize opponents, and recruit allies.

Consequences bring communications challenges. As we’ll explore in the Storytelling chapter, we need to articulate a narrative as we draw support for our mission. Sometimes we’ll have an option. Do we want to highlight—or minimize—an “us‐versus‐them” dynamic? In a battle to shut down a coal mine, it would be strategically unwise and morally problematic to frame it as a conflict between environmentalists and mineworkers. Instead, a climate campaigner could frame it as a contest between a victimized community and a profit‐obsessed coal company. We cannot stop there. We still must confront the fact that mineworkers will lose their jobs and, therefore, there is an obligation to invest in how to support them once the mine has shut down.

The more we honestly acknowledge winners and losers, the better we can frame a story that aligns with our moral framing and our strategic context.

“While valuing future generations is an ideal embraced across cultures and ideologies, it is not yet a widespread cultural or institutional practice. Our shared principles have not held sway in reality.”

Bina Venkataraman⁷

Time: You are both ancestor and descendant

In African American communities there’s a common phrase, “I am my ancestors’ wildest dreams.” Pause to imagine the dreams of a great‐great‐great‐greatgrandmother, enslaved in the moment but persevering out of hope for generations ahead. And a great‐great‐great‐great granddaughter, thriving despite it all. Across the generations we witness mutuality, tragedy, and hope.

Our responsibility as ancestors is intertwined with our responsibility as descendants. Perhaps the knottiest trade‐offs that change agents face are those between the present and the future. We regularly have to decide whether to push a challenge off until later, to tap a resource, and to invest or to save.

There’s a powerful technique to bridge these different time perspectives: imagine that you are already living in the future. Sigal Samuel tells a story:⁸

In 2015, 20 residents of Yahaba, a small town in northeast Japan, went to their town hall to take part in a unique experiment.

Their goal was to design policies that would shape Yahaba’s future. They’d debate questions typically reserved for politicians: Would it be better to invest in infrastructure or child care? Should we promote renewable energy or industrial farming?

But there was a twist. While half the citizens were invited to be themselves and express their own opinions, the other half were asked to put on special ceremonial robes and pretend they were people from the future. Specifically, they were told to imagine they were from the year 2060—so that when deliberating with the group, they’d be representing the interests of a future generation.

The results were striking. The citizens who were just being themselves advocated for policies that would boost their lifestyle in the short term. But the people in robes advocated for much more radical policies—from massive health care investments to climate change action—that would be better for the town in the long term.

And they managed to convince their fellow citizens that taking the long view would benefit their grandkids. In the end, the entire group reached a consensus that they should, in some ways, act against their own immediate self‐interest in order to help the future.

We see these trade‐offs throughout society. The entire purpose of the discipline of finance, as we discuss in the Markets chapter, is to mediate across time and across risk. Investment is, by definition, a bet on the future at the expense of the present.

These questions become ethically complex especially as we stretch to longer time horizons.⁹ Many social issues—notably climate change—are issues of generational trade‐offs. We also see this dynamic in pension reform, infrastructure investment, and education.

The ethics of time also have immense practical implications for social change institutions. For example, in philanthropy, we’ve seen a roaring debate over the question of foundation “perpetuity.” Should foundations manage their endowments so as to forever maintain the real value of their assets? Or should they “spend down” their assets by giving away more money, faster? Related questions come up in the management of social enterprises or nonprofits that have to decide whether to save for a rainy day or spend on mission now.

There is no single answer for how we should make trade‐offs from one generation to the next. In the Mathematical Modeling chapter, we will discuss ways—such as the social discount rate—to think explicitly about these questions. These models can then help us honestly articulate trade‐offs over time.

Perhaps, though, the most powerful step is to regularly pause and remind yourself: I am both ancestor and descendant.

Money: Resources are power

If you articulate the ethical dimensions of your decisions involving money, you will use it better—whether earning it, spending it, raising it, or giving it away.

This ethical clarity is essential for two reasons. First, it is the right thing to do. If money is power, we need to acknowledge the way it influences us in our actions. Second, understanding the ethical dimensions of money helps us navigate the inevitable pushback, challenges, or conflicted sense of identity that comes with organizing capital for good.

Quite simply, many people working for social change are uncomfortable with money. It can be an almost physical reaction. I know one nonprofit leader who insisted he was prone to getting sick after fundraisers where he handled a lot of cash. For most, though, it is a moral quandary. They recognize the inequalities of our society—and that the systems of money helped to create those inequalities. But they also know that money enables them to pursue their organization’s mission.

Actual engagement with money quickly raises those tensions. That engagement could be fundraising—whether collecting donations for a nonprofit, investments for a business, or taxes for a government. Invariably, questions of power come up when money is used for social good. In the relationships section below, we’ll explore how money hierarchies can be twisted into power hierarchies.

Our ethical anxieties around money can quickly get personal. Many of us feel the weight of an essential question: how much is enough? The philosopher Peter Singer presents a simple thought experiment. Imagine you saw a drowning child.

You could save her, but only by jumping into the river and ruining your suit. Most people say they’d save the child.

But there are many nonprofits that have evidence‐based interventions to save a child’s life for less than the cost of your suit. If all lives are equally valuable, are we not then similarly obligated to donate?¹⁰ I do not claim to have a definitive answer. But I am sure that it is a question worth pondering.

“Peacemakers truly ‘make’ peace… we need to be artisans of peace, for building peace is a craft that demands serenity, creativity, sensitivity, and skill.”

Pope Francis¹¹

In the Strategy chapter, we defined strategy as a logic for allocating resources to achieve a goal. Inherent in that definition is an assumption of scarcity. You don’t need logic if you have infinite resources. That scarcity is often present, not just in money but in time, attention, or voice.

But when it comes to money, it is worth pausing to consider its abundance. There are trillions of dollars sloshing around the global economy. Every year in the United States alone people donate—simply give away!—almost a half a trillion dollars.¹²

There is not an infinite amount of money. But there is a lot. And there are many people who would be happy to see their money put to a different kind of use, who would celebrate the use of their money for public purpose. So, while the objective scarcity of money demands rigor, the subjective reality can be one of abundance.

These challenges extend to people’s professional identity. Millions of people around the world are paid to make the world better. That is a sign of a healthy society. But it also raises ethical dilemmas. Should people expect less—or more—compensation if they are doing good for the world? How much should a nonprofit pay its executives? Is it okay for an investor to get rich off renewable energy? Should public health officials get a bonus if they drive down infection rates?

Social change agents get the benefit of others’ perceptions of their own altruism. But that brings with it a higher standard, a new set of expectations, about how the work of social good does or does not benefit those involved.

To navigate these ethical puzzles, our best hope is honest acknowledgment. Acknowledge the inherent power dynamics between those asking for money and those providing it. Acknowledge the necessity of money to accomplish our important work for social change. Acknowledge our personal need for some, but not too much.

“It does not require many words to speak the truth.”

Hinmatóowyalahtqit (aka Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce)¹³

Truth: Describe reality with humility

It is not easy to talk about truth. We grasp for the right words; we talk past each other. So let me start with some definitions. Like all definitions these are imperfect, but they at least can help us frame the conversation.

1. Truth is the actual state of reality. It has an objective existence. But the limitations of human perception (and, indeed, quantum physics) make it impossible to perfectly describe or access that reality.
2. Truthfulness is a state of doing your best to tell the truth, of sincerely attempting to be accurate.
3. Truthiness is communication that disregards actual truth; to speak without any commitment to accuracy, precision, or sincerity. As the philosopher and TV talk show host Stephen Colbert explained, “truthiness” is “the belief in what you feel to be true rather than what the facts will support.”¹⁴

The philosopher Richard Reeves argues that the only solution to our current crisis of truth is an ethical one. He says, “Trust is built on truthfulness rather than truth…the most important thing is to strive to present their work in a way that’s as objective as possible (accuracy), and to present a range of reasonable results wherever possible, giving the fullest possible picture (sincerity).” Reeves continues, “Certainly, being truthful is a hard task. But without it, free societies cannot function. And nobody said freedom was easy.”¹⁵

“The only path to justice runs through truth.”

Darren Walker¹⁶

Truthiness cannot last forever. Eventually, reality wins. And despite our era of waning trust, trust still matters. It has immense practical implications in business. I recall a conversation with the leader of a radical environmental group who had worked in the business world before. He remarked at how struck he was that there was less trust among environmental nonprofits than he had seen among businesses.

The lesson here is that trust is not simply a moral act. Trust is a practical prerequisite for many activities. It lubricates relationships and removes barriers. And by its very nature, trust compounds over time, growing as one party’s bet on another pays off. In the Game Theory chapter, we will explore some of the consequences of this trust. And we will fully acknowledge that there are times when trust is not justified.

Truthfulness yields trust among others. And, importantly, seeking truth also makes it more likely we do not lie to ourselves and, instead, listen to what the facts are telling us.

Identity: Acknowledge who you are

Societies are arrangements of individuals. The caste system in India assumed that each individual was chained to a spot in an immutable social hierarchy. The history of race relations in the United States is a history of structural inequality, and, indeed, may be thought of as its own kind of caste system.¹⁷

Not all social structures or sources of identity are so nefarious. Many are sites of human flourishing: families, communities, congregations, and sports teams.

Good or bad, it is essential that we recognize that these structures are real. That recognition is at the heart of many efforts to build a better world, as organizations work to erode the immoral structures and build better ones.

But our recognition of identity must go deeper than abstract external analysis. It should include an understanding of where we, as individuals, fit in a structure. That placement may or may not be fair. We may be privileged or disadvantaged through no fault of our own.

This simple acknowledgment forces a reassessment; once we know how we got here, we can be honest about how to move forward. (See further discussion in the Behavioral Economics chapter.)

Our identities are a combination of dimensions: race, ethnicity, birth sex, gender identity, sexual orientation, religion, class, ability, political beliefs, and more. All are a part of how we show up in the world. And these identities have consequences. Many other books have explored in depth the power of these dimensions. But it so important to social change strategy that I would like to pause to note the key elements.

1. Each dimension of identity matters on a personal level: it helps define—consciously and unconsciously—our sense of self, our understanding of who we are in the world.
2. The dimensions do not operate independently; they intersect. Being a Black woman is more than just being a woman and being Black.
3. Identity changes how people perceive and relate to each other, again both consciously and unconsciously.
4. These changes compound over time and end up embedded in language, practices, and institutions.
5. This “structural” effect creates an unequal distribution of power and resources in our society. As a general rule, that is unfair. But it is real.

Consciousness of our identity need not mean we accept the structural effects. But it does mean that we admit they exist. A wealthy white man can do compassionate and effective work in an under‐resourced Hmong community. But he cannot paper over his race or economic privilege. Ignoring it does not make it go away.

Ultimately, acknowledgment of difference creates space to find commonality.

Relationships: Act with others, not upon them

We are not alone. We act as individuals in constant interaction with others; we act in relationship. A thousand libraries have been written on human relationships. Here, let me suggest we organize our brief exploration around the “direction” of the relationship: up, down, and sideways.

“If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else.”

Toni Morrison¹⁸

“Up” relationships are with those in power. To influence them, we would be wise to acknowledge two things. First, we can admit they have power. It may not be fair that these individuals have influence over others: they might not be smart, good, or representative. But they have power. Our job as social change agents is to influence their actions. Second, when looking up at one who has power over us, we can remember that we have power, too. Those in power always need those with less power. They are defined by it: bosses are not bosses without employees; teachers are not teachers without students; wardens are not wardens without incarcerated people.

“Down” relationships are those with less power than we have. In most situations we’re in, there will be people who are structurally subordinate to us. They could be employees, volunteers, children, grantees, or students. The first step is to acknowledge this power dynamic.

Acknowledgment can protect against two perversions of power dynamics: abuse and guilt freeze. Abuse is self‐explanatory; history is rife with examples of the exploitation of power. Guilt freeze is when those with power are ashamed of their power and so fail to act at all. It is useful to recognize those moments when you have power that you did nothing to deserve. But we also can remember that the call of social change is to act with justice, not to wallow in guilt.

“Sideways” relationships are the heart of social change. We walk with others. Those who seek transformative change alone always fail. Our colleagues and others who share our path are not just our companions; they are our only chance to succeed. So much of the success in social change is recruiting—through stories—companions in making a better world. I’ll discuss this process more in the Community Organizing chapter.

It is worth pausing on two types of relationships in social change that should be sideways but often are up‐and‐down. First is the relationship between agent and beneficiary. The social entrepreneur employing people just out of prison may aspire to a sideways relationship with their employees. If they find themselves in an “up‐down” relationship, they might alienate the people they’re supposed to help and miss valuable first‐hand insights that would bolster their business.

Similarly, money often equates to power. And in social change, those with capital (whether providers of grants, debt, or equity) often find themselves with power. The challenge is this: the funder and the funded are on the same team. They are fellow travelers towards a better world. The funder and the funded should be in a sideways relationship, but too often the funders are up and the recipients down. These power dynamics can work at cross‐purposes with truth, leading to what Nanjira Sambuli called “narrative ventriloquism…a creative nonfiction for anyone who’s ever had to fundraise.”¹⁹ Money can distort relationships, which distorts trust.

In each of these three directional relationships, the best relationships are defined by dignity. When in doubt, we can use dignity as the criterion by which we judge our choices. We can all aspire to a story with shared dignity. One of the greatest fuels for dignity is listening, a core focus of the Design Thinking chapter.

“Most American reform movements carry a strain of puritanism, a zeal for personal self‐correction so powerful that it can sometimes replace the effort to make concrete changes to material conditions.”

George Packer²⁰

In the end, the most powerful transformation contains elements of both altruism and authentic self‐interest. As the Australian Aboriginal leader Lilia Watson memorably said, “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time; but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” In an act of beautiful consistency, Watson herself emphasized that she does not alone deserve the credit for this quote; it was created as part of a collective effort.

Organizations: You are not your organization

Many social change agents spend so much time encased in the identity of an organization, they forget they are separate from it. This attitude is especially true for founders and executives who are externally perceived to represent an organization (whether for‐profit, nonprofit, or government). It also can be true for front‐line workers who are seen as the voice of an organization.

This sense of shared identity is understandable, but we are wise to remember we are distinct: we can believe something different from our organization’s official talking points. We contribute to and bear responsibility for the successes and failures of our organizations, but they are not wholly ours. I’ll mention two concrete places where this concept comes into play. Across sectors, there is the challenge of “founder’s syndrome,” where the person who started an organization sticks around for so long that the organization gets stuck. After many years, disentangling the relationships and the ethos of an organization from its founder can become difficult. This problem is solvable with intention and a plan for transition.

“One’s philosophy is not best expressed in words. It is expressed in the choices one makes.”

Eleanor Roosevelt²¹

Versions of organizational identity crises can emerge for executives, especially chief executives. I felt it myself during my time as CEO of GuideStar. Indeed, I had to give up a part of my identity (being a chief executive) to enable the merger of GuideStar and Foundation Center to form Candid. It was a strategic sacrifice to advance the mission. But it was still painful; it is easier to change a business card than an identity.

The conflation of self and organization is not always a figment of an arrogant leader’s imagination. It can be reinforced—or even imposed—externally. The receptionist at the health clinic bears the emotional burden of beneficiaries’ experience at that clinic.

Related to the confusion between self and organization is the confusion between self and job. At times this confusion leads to arrogance or intransigence. But, in work for social impact, the bigger problem is exhaustion and burnout.²² This is acute in healing professions like nursing, therapy, and social work and extends across many types of work for a better world.

As social change agents, we walk a fine line, because our emotional and ethical investment in our work builds power and effectiveness. That investment creates vulnerability, which then engenders trust. By definition, vulnerability creates the possibility of harm. Social change agents would be wise to remember the advice of flight attendants everywhere: put on your own oxygen mask before helping others.

The final chapter of this book—Institutions—explores some of the ethical questions facing organizations—whether government agencies, businesses, or nonprofits. What are the rights and responsibilities of organizations to their stakeholders and society as a whole?

“I say more: the just man justices.”

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Ambition, humility, and kindness

The best of modern social change is characterized by a contradiction: it is both ambitious and humble. Major societal change doesn’t tend to happen accidentally. It is powered by intentionality. And intentionality for impact is—by definition—ambition.

But ambition without humility is arrogance; arrogance leads to delusion; delusion leads to failure.We don’t have to look far to find reasons for humility: we exist in an immensely complex world that is calcified by institutional inertia and distorted by human biases. Reality itself asks us to be humble.

And yet we still must claim our own power. Our challenge is to do so in a way that honestly confronts the ethical dilemmas that arise when you try to do something that matters.

I’d like to close with an emphasis on the connection between kindness and effectiveness. In the Game Theory chapter, we will explore this connection more formally—not just formally in the sense that we will spend time on it, but formally in the sense that one can mathematically show the power of kindness.

We don’t need an equation to know that kindness can work. Every day we have a chance to test this hypothesis with friends, family, colleagues, and strangers. Even in a harsh world, those who invest in others are ultimately rewarded.

And for change agents like us, our rewards are not just personal, but in the impact we see.

Ethics and Social Change Takeaways

The work of changing the world comes with unique ethical responsibilities. Ethics is not separate from strategy; ethical dilemmas also offer opportunities for strategic insight.

Eight essential dimensions of social change ethics and how to navigate them:

Beliefs: Know what is true to you

Acknowledging and reconciling diversity of belief is central to your actions as a social changemaker. Today’s stark political polarization makes this challenge more acute and more urgent.

Consequences: Acknowledge winners and losers

Be honest about trade‐offs; there’s no upside to pretending that choices only have the consequences we favor. Exploring why others disagree helps us understand how we might change their minds.

Time: You are both ancestor and descendant

Change agents face knotty trade‐offs between past, present, and future. Take time to imagine the dreams of those who came before you and the needs of those who will come after you.

Money: Understand both resources and power

Always be prepared to articulate the ethical dimensions of your decisions involving money—whether you are earning it, spending it, raising it, or giving it away. People see your work as altruistic, so it carries higher expectations about how it does and does not benefit everyone involved.

Truth: Describe reality with humility

Follow the truth to where it leads you, not to where you want it to go. A stable, long‐term foundation of trust cannot be built on lies and half‐truths. Present a picture that is as accurate and as sincere as possible. Warts and all.

Identity: Acknowledge who you are

Our identities have consequences. Ignoring identity does not make it go away. Acknowledging difference creates space to find commonality. Analyzing where we fit in the social structure (whether that structure is fair or not) casts light on our own path forward.

Relationships: Act with others, not upon them

Those who seek transformative change alone always fail. Impact requires other people. We can pay attention to how power flows within those relationships. Whatever the arrangement, the best relationships are defined by dignity.

Organizations: You are not your organization

That attitude can lead to arrogance, intransigence, exhaustion, and burnout. We can believe something different from the organization’s talking points. Neither the successes nor failures of an organization are wholly ours.

In the end, the key lesson of social change ethics is this: kindness is effective.

Ethics and Social Change Suggested Reading

Torah

Tao Te Ching

Dhammapada

Bhagavad Gita

Analects

The Bible

Quran