When I dove into democracy work in 2015 as head of Philanthropy for Active Civic Engagement, many in the field didn’t consider strengthening democracy and civic life a philanthropic priority. They thought of it as a “nice” thing that existed alongside the “necessary” work.
That’s changed, especially as threats to democracy have grown. Some threats, such as last week’s historic ouster of Republican Speaker of the House Kevin McCarthy, represent a breakdown of democratic norms. Others involve broader principles, including election fairness, judicial independence, and civil liberties.
While the focus varies, grant makers increasingly recognize that democracy is the necessary work that makes all other necessary work possible. But there’s often a catch: While the articulated desire to support democracy is strong and widespread, I’ve seen the actual willingness to do democracy work diminish if it doesn’t also achieve certain political or implicitly partisan outcomes.
Stated differently, there’s a tendency to conflate democracy and politics — a problem likely to accelerate as the 2024 presidential election heats up.
I’m often in rooms, whether leaning politically left or right, where I hear grant makers make statements like: “What if we invest in voter engagement efforts and then people don’t vote the way we want them to?” or “If XYZ policy outcome isn’t achieved, it is the end of democracy as we know it!”
The often subconscious temptation to equate a strengthened democracy with the realization of one’s political preferences is a sentiment that most Americans seem to share. Every few years, hotly contested elections with razor-thin margins result in huge numbers of voters feeling their democracy is under attack.
But not every threat to our politics is a threat to democracy itself.
Policy outcomes, which often fall along partisan lines, are certainly important and provide critical indicators about whether the people’s will is upheld within our systems of government. But the fullness of democracy does not rise or fall on policy issues. Suggesting that it does is not only myopic, but also minimizes what democracy represents. Donors, and Americans in general, need to recognize that democracy is larger than politics, and politics is larger than partisanship.
Some argue — quite persuasively — that partisanship is necessary to preserve democracy by defeating perceived growing authoritarian tendencies, particularly in today’s Republican Party. If authoritarianism isn’t defeated, the argument goes, democracy as we know it will cease to exist in this country. Others argue that American democracy has never reached its full potential, especially for people of color and other marginalized groups. Some question whether a historically exclusionary democracy is worth saving at all.
I empathize with these arguments. And I’m also inspired by people like Theodore Johnson, senior advisor at New America Foundation, who reminds us that “America may be the ultimately unachievable project … but not pursuing it is the death of the American idea, the death of what the country could be.”
Philanthropy is uniquely situated to help unlock a democracy that embodies the full potential of self-governance and ensures representation, inclusion, and participation for all Americans. However, when a donor succumbs to the perspective that partisanship is required to save democracy, the opposite happens: The public becomes more disillusioned with the overarching premise of democracy and less interested in finding solutions to strengthen it.
This risks perpetuating zero-sum thinking — the assumption that gains by one group are a loss for another. Such a mentality can fuel resentment and animosity. Further, when political partisanship becomes shorthand for democracy, an “exhausted majority” of Americans who are burnt out by politics feel less inclined to participate in civic life. When that occurs, only the voices on the furthest poles of the spectrum get heard, making society as a whole more susceptible to democratic backsliding.
A growing body of evidence suggests that a strong civil society in which people feel they have the power to solve societal problems themselves, without the involvement of government or political leaders, can act as a bulwark against authoritarianism. What’s more, people who feel a sense of belonging are less likely to support anti-democratic leadership.
Democracy is experiencing a crisis of legitimacy at both an institutional and cultural level. A lot of worthwhile attention and funding focuses on the former — ensuring government systems work, power is balanced, and democracy delivers public benefit. But to transcend politics, more investment is needed in civic culture — the shared experiences that shape democratic norms, beliefs, and values in a diverse and pluralistic society. This could include investments in programs that build skills for participation in civil society, nurture inclusion and belonging, and advance community problem-solving.
A Democracy Checklist
Here are four ideas for what an effective nonpartisan philanthropic democracy strategy could look like:
First, grant makers should analyze their missions’ relationship to democracy. How does democracy help your mission and vision? How can your mission strengthen democracy? You don’t need to consider yourself a democracy funder to make it a priority. For example, some members of Philanthropy for Active Civic Engagement focus on issues such as health or climate, but understand they cannot achieve their goals in those areas without a well-functioning system of governance that can pass policy, engages people in working together to solve problems, and reflects the public will.
Second, remember that democracy is a process of ensuring representation and fairness. Investing in civil rights and political reform are meaningful ways to advance the nation’s founding principles, such as equality and liberty. So is supporting effective governmental institutions by investing in areas like civil service leadership training, oversight, redistricting, and an accurate Census. All help ensure democracy delivers efficient and effective outcomes for people and are critical for earning public trust and instilling confidence in democracy.
Third, donors should make their commitment to democracy about more than voting. Consider investing in civic education, volunteerism and service, media and journalism, and many other forms of civic engagement and infrastructure — all of which are critical to building a strong civic culture.
Finally, foundations should focus not just on what they fund, but how they lead. This can include making decisions in ways that advance what we call “social cohesion philanthropy” — an approach to funding that avoids us vs. them thinking, finds areas of commonality, and fosters the mutual tolerance democracies need to thrive. To do this, donors should ask themselves questions such as: “Are there foreseeable ways our strategy could further toxic polarization?” or “Does our language demonize people or groups, rather than critiquing concepts or ideas?”
Similarly, genuinely embracing participatory grant making, which cedes grant-making decisions to community members closest to the problems, elevates the practice of democracy within the field.
Anti-democratic forces are strong and well-resourced. A broad philanthropic coalition that crosses party and political lines needs to work together to protect and strengthen democracy — in all its messiness and contradictions. This is true especially when we hold legitimate and principled disagreement.
Philanthropy, which means “love of humankind,” can ensure that humanity is at the center of how our democracy operates. Democracy, after all, is a system of governance that derives strength from its people. If funders want to help make the American experiment flourish, then the task before us all is to invest in ways that ensure democracy is larger than our politics.