On ‘Mount Olympus syndrome’ and the discomfort of holding power

Lankelly Chase put significant time and resources into attempting to transform its own grant-giving power and the philanthropic field at large. The way this played out was liberating for some – and a source of great pain for others

By the Generative Journalism Alliance

Through our work speaking to dozens of Lankelly Chase stakeholders, we have heard stories of real joy and deep impact, of grantees and stakeholders being spurred on by Lankelly Chase’s systemic thinking and attempts to disrupt the philanthropic model. Many were inspired by their willingness to use their voice for what they saw as radical positive change in the sector and, uncharacteristically for a funder, the fact that they acted as an advocate and ‘stood alongside’ a diverse range of people and organisations.

It has also been painful and sometimes heartbreaking to hear from those who have been harmed by philanthropic patterns of behaviour in the UK, and specifically the way Lankelly Chase has conducted itself in the world. We have heard about a lack of care and poor relational practices, of an inability to work with the discomfort of holding power, of opaque decision-making and an unwillingness to really listen to and act on what marginalised people and communities needed from the foundation.

Asymmetrical dynamics were a key dimension of what we heard from many sources. A question that remains unanswered is whether or not, had it behaved and structured itself differently, Lankelly Chase could’ve broken down or transformed these dynamics.

One of our interviewees compared Lankelly Chase to “gods on Mount Olympus”:

“They could come across as quite god-like. The language of experiment comes from the systems change world and it felt like Lankelly Chase were these gods on Mount Olympus looking down at us poor humans in York.  At one point they were involved and then they weren’t involved. As the mortals in York trying our best, dealing with the day to day at the same time as trying to make systems change, many of us struggled with this approach.” – Jan Garrill, Funder Peer

The power Lankelly held in setting this frame placed a significant and continuous burden of learning on partners – one which involved effectively speaking different languages in different settings.

For some, Lankelly’s focus on learning and systems thinking was transformative. It emboldened them, pushed them into new territory with their work and brought them into contact with many fellow travellers. For others, the power Lankelly held to define the terms of engagement with grantees and other stakeholders – combined with a tendency to unilaterally change those terms when exciting new ideas, practices or thinking came along – was a cause of great uncertainty, precarity and sometimes trauma. 

Attempts to disrupt power dynamics

Lankelly sought to disrupt the power dynamics of philanthropy, particularly the funder–grantee paradigm, through relational approaches and much-reduced bureaucracy. Significantly, it devolved grant‑making decisions away from its trustees – firstly to the foundation’s officers and then to people in communities, for example through its place-based work in Manchester.

“They’ve been very conscious of those power dynamics and wanting to change them. My understanding is […] that they want to operate differently, partly because they want to escape the constraints of those power dynamics […] I’ll be sorry to see Lankelly disappear, because I think they were a real fellow traveller in that mindset and that worldview.” – Catherine Howarth, Grantee

They were also notable in that they created space for conversations about power with grantees, partners, stakeholders and other funders. This had a really positive impact on many people Lankelly worked with:

“With a lot of funders you can’t talk about those issues, because it feels a bit too scary for them and a bit too political. So to have the space to do that, and to think in that way, that’s certainly affected how we operate now.” – Chris Dabbs, Grantee

But as another source said about Lankelly’s attempts to transform power dynamics:

“The reality was that it was very messy. Initially, I was very seduced by the idea of it being really different. And it felt very different. 

“My perception shifted in frustration at them not owning and stepping into the power that they have – trying to pretend it’s not there … I ‘got’ the intention, but it felt very juxtaposed to the reality of the level of power they held and couldn’t get rid of.

“I felt quite often that there were cyclical conversations about how the intention is to do something different, but I don’t think there was a sense they knew how to do that. It’s not like there’s some manual they can follow.” – Catherine Scott, Grantee & Place-Based Associate

Holding truths too lightly

We have heard how these intentions came into friction with Lankelly’s operations in many different ways, how that power was perceived by others and how difficult Lankelly found it to develop a shared practice which embodied a sophisticated understanding of its own power and positionality. 

One interviewee told us that Lankelly’s thinking was “so big that it often felt difficult to understand our place in it,” while at the same time as being reluctant to use its power by setting out a clear opinion or being directive when the situation may have required it:

“If you’re trying to shift power and get more people in decision making, it feels difficult to then use your power, even if you have an informed perspective. It’s difficult to bring your insight without worrying that you’re telling people what to do.” – Cameron Bray, Grantee

Lankelly’s reluctance to follow their learning through to systematic changes to how the foundation operated was also identified as a key issue:

“I think Lankelly held their own truths too lightly. They had an almost visceral negative reaction to the idea of trying to codify what they had learned in terms of their own systems and processes. I think that their resistance to creating structure around what they learned meant that the changes that they could have made were less sustainable. It was a bit more ephemeral.” – Toby Lowe, Advisor

Another key reflection, one which we heard from several stakeholders of colour, was that they had a personal relationship with a person of colour on the Lankelly team, but not to Lankelly Chase itself as an organisation. For some, being left to get on with the work was a blessing and a welcome respite from the endless box-ticking required by other funders. For others, despite their positive encounters with individuals working at Lankelly, operating at arms length isolated them from its direction of travel. 

The contrast between their positive personal relationship with a member of Lankelly staff and their perceived lack of relationship with the foundation itself fed a wider critique of whether Lankelly was truly committed to transforming power dynamics in its work, particularly as they related to racism and colonialism:

“The operations of the organisation are so elusive. You realise that actually it’s just maintaining a power structure that already exists within the movement and needs to be challenged.” – Guppi (Decolonising Economics), Grantee

Some of this may speak to a tendency for grantees and other stakeholders to be much more willing to trust individuals who felt more directly accountable and attentive to them, versus a philanthropic institution which, despite its efforts to transform power dynamics, still represented what they saw as a toxic or dysfunctional philanthropic system.

What comes next

“Even when we want to be different, we find ourselves inducted into the energy of systemic patterns.” – Dorothy Atcheson, Advisor

Does all of the above support Lankelly’s decision to cease operations in its current form? Are those patterns of harm intrinsic to any and all philanthropic work, which is asymmetrical by design and colonial at root, like ingredients baked into a cake which can’t later be subtracted? 

Or does it speak to a lack of care, intention, organisational self awareness and genuine willingness to work with the great discomfort of being in such a position of authority, of wielding great power over people who were often historically marginalised and oppressed, of ultimately making decisions which loom so large in people’s personal and organisational psyches? 

When all is said and done, while they can take on a monolithic or even mythical quality, organisations are groups of individuals. For better and for worse, Lankelly Chase was truly this – people within the foundation often acted as individual agents and, within wide parameters, they were free to pursue their own inquiries, form relationships and give out money. The way this played out was truly liberating for some stakeholders and a source of great pain for others.

Questions still remain: could the tensions, contradictions and feedback loops in this work – and the harms they cause and perpetuate – ever be interrupted? And if so, is what we are left with still ‘philanthropy’, or something else entirely?