In June, outgoing Gill Foundation CEO Brad Clark gave early voice to what has since evolved into a growing chorus of concerns in philanthropic and political circles: a worry that the language of social justice movements, as mediated by funders and nonprofits, has become an impediment to changemaking. 

The fear is that as much as such language can build allyship and coalitions in the service of narrative and material change, it also can alienate those outside the in-groups from which funders and activists hail. And that could devastate the prospects of aligned politicians who might otherwise gain the power to ratify the very changes funders seek. 

The institutions of philanthropy are “dominated by the wealthy and highly educated” and “have become rigid in tone, exclusive in culture, and ineffective in tactics,” Clark wrote in the Chronicle of Philanthropy. “It’s not working!”

“Real progress happens when we choose to see people as neighbors, not opponents,” he wrote. “Unfortunately, too often today, we’re unwilling to make room at the table. We use language that’s completely inaccessible to many in the public — ‘microaggressions,’ ‘power shifting,’ ‘asset mapping,’ ‘intersectionality.’ We need to use words that you’re more likely to hear in your local Walmart or community meeting than in my liberal arts gender studies class or philanthropy roundtables.”

Since his June op-ed, politicians from across the spectrum of Democratic politics — from upstarts elected from the ranks of the Democratic Socialists of America in New York to the Clintonite heirs of Washington, D.C.’s Third Way — have echoed those concerns.

In mid-July, Kentucky Gov. Andy Beshear, a centrist Democrat, repeatedly drove the point home during a swing through South Carolina (now the first-in-the-nation Democratic presidential primary state, thanks to changes implemented under President Joe Biden). Democrats’ “inclusive” language has led them to mistake linguistic shifts for real change, he said: “We don’t change minds by changing words.”

One example: the term “justice-involved population.” “Anybody know what that is? Those are inmates,” Beshear told an audience of politically inclined South Carolinians, according to a Semafor report. “You know what our inmates call themselves? Inmates! We’ve got to get back to talking to people like we talk to our friends, like we talk each and every day in our life.”

“I understand where a lot of the advocacy speak came from. It was meant to lessen stigma, but you don’t lessen stigma by changing words. You lessen stigma by changing hearts,” Beshear said, according to Louisville Public Media. Another example he gave was how people now talk about cuts to food programs. “We can’t say it’s going to make people ‘food insecure.’ What it’s gonna make people do is go hungry,” Beshear said.

While hunger and food insecurity are technically different problems, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture, such niceties of policymaking tend to get lost in the heat of political debate. 

In late August, the centrist Washington, D.C., think tank Third Way amplified these concerns in a memo calling on the Democrats to eschew certain neologisms and phrases commonly found in the academy — and in philanthropic circles. “For a party that spends billions of dollars trying to find the perfect language to connect to voters, Democrats and their allies use an awful lot of words and phrases no ordinary person would ever dream of saying. The intent of this language is to include, broaden, empathize, accept and embrace. The effect of this language is to sound like the extreme, divisive, elitist and obfuscatory enforcers of wokeness,” the memo said. “To please the few, we have alienated the many — especially on culture issues, where our language sounds superior, haughty and arrogant.

“In reality, most Democrats do not run or govern on wildly out-of-touch social positions,” the memo continued. “But voters would be excused to believe we do because of the words that come out of our mouths — words which sound like we are hiding behind unfamiliar phrases to mask extreme intent.”

The words Third Way flagged include everything from “privilege,” “othering” and “microaggression” to “food insecurity,” “birthing person” and “pregnant people” (as opposed to “pregnant women”). 

Political reporter David Weigel observed in a Semafor article just days after the Third Way memo came out, “The story Republicans are telling is that the Democratic Party is a hollowed-out vehicle for the most obnoxious liberalism you can imagine.” He was talking about left-of-center activists, to be sure. But Trump has increasingly set his sights on philanthropic organizations, as well — the Open Society Foundations and the Soros family in particular, but also the Ford Foundation, Tides, Arabella Advisors and more — and sought to paint the entire progressive activist and advocacy ecosystem as a dark-money-backed astroturf operation fed by big philanthropy. As affordability and economic precarity have grown in salience and self-avowed anti-woke leaders rise to power everywhere from Silicon Valley to D.C., the finely attuned, culturally sensitive language of philanthropy has never faced more high-profile doubters.

It’s not just centrists trying to win in purple southern states who are saying it’s time to eschew culture war contretemps and sidestep strategies that failed in 2024, either. ​​“We as Democrats got our asses handed to us in November of last year…. They were running on this platform of economic populism, whether they believed in that economic populism or not… and a lot of that was lost within the Democratic Party. We were fighting these culture wars, you know, these social issues that didn’t really put money into the pockets of Americans,” said New York City Council Member Chi Ossé on The Perez Notes Podcast in July, just a few days after Beshear’s remarks and in the wake of Democratic Socialists of America member Zohran Mamdani’s historic New York City mayoral primary win on a message of affordability. 

The remarks were especially notable as Ossé, just 27 and entering his second term, first gained prominence and won office on the heels of work as a Brooklyn-based leader in the Black Lives Matter movement. In June, Mamdani won one of his highest victory margins in Ossé’s diverse and rapidly gentrifying Bed-Stuy/Crown Heights council district, which also had the highest voter turnout among Brooklyn city council districts.

The Bed-Stuy tie is an interesting one, as it turns out that some of the language changes we’ve seen adopted across the philanthrosphere came out of efforts in Bed-Stuy during the era of peak imprisonment as men who had served time sought to reclaim their dignity in the face of social stigma. In 2005, Edwin “Eddie” Ellis, founder of the Center for NuLeadership on Urban Solutions, penned “An Open Letter to Our Friends on the Question of Language” that urged people to “Stop using the terms offender, felon, prisoner, inmate and convict.”

An advocacy and training center “founded, directed and staffed” by the formerly incarcerated, the Central Bed-Stuy group described itself at launch as “the first and only one of its kind in the United States.” The letter on language was designed, Ellis wrote, “to respond to the negative public perception about our population as expressed in the language and concepts used to describe us. When we are not called mad dogs, animals, predators, offenders and other derogatory terms, we are referred to as inmates, convicts, prisoners and felons. All terms devoid of humanness, which identify us as ‘things’ rather than as people. These terms are accepted as the ‘official’ language of the media, law enforcement, prison industrial complex and public policy agencies. However, they are no longer acceptable for us and we are asking people to stop using them.”

Ellis, a former member of the Black Panther Party who served 25 years in prison, including at the notorious Attica Correctional Facility, for a murder he maintained he did not commit, died in 2014 — but not before seeing his demands gain support in the philanthrosphere, political world and mainstream media. “Lately, the [Obama] administration has also recognized that the vocabulary of incarceration — the permanently stigmatizing way we speak about people who have served time — presents a significant barrier to reintegration,” the New York Times Editorial Board wrote in 2016. “Federal officials have set out to change that lexicon, so that people who have committed crimes have a better chance of being seen not as faceless abstractions, but as human beings worthy of being back in society.”

The Center for NuLeadership is still active and has received funding from Brooklyn Org Foundation, Borealis Philanthropy, the Tow Foundation and the Open Society Foundations (then the Open Society Institute), among others. Along the way, Ellis also served as a senior consultant for the Open Society Institute and was a leading figure in the criminal justice reform movement of his day.

The backlash against the language changes Ellis fought for and the criminal justice reforms implemented during the Obama era and through 2020’s racial reckoning have gone hand in hand. Language and policy, it turns out, are inseparable. But for now, even if those language changes were previously helpful in the effort to reintegrate the formerly incarcerated, with a GOP trifecta in Washington and a Supreme Court that has ruled over and over in Trump’s favor, the path forward many are recommending is to let go of the focus on linguistic correctness in order to build new coalitions across difference with the ultimate aim of preserving hard-won rights, building new alliances and regaining electoral power.

Another unexpected proponent of this viewpoint is the first trans congresswoman, Sarah McBride of Delaware, elected in 2024 even as Trump ran hard against the provision of trans medical care in prisons and as public sentiment around trans rights started to nosedive. “Changemaking is hard and I think that social media has lulled us into this perception that strategy is weakness. That discipline is compromise. And I think that’s a really dangerous and corrosive and I think fundamentally counterproductive perception,” McBride told the audience after the June Tribeca Film Festival premiere of the documentary about her bid for office, “State of Firsts,” funded by Ruth Ann Harnisch and the Harnisch Foundation. 

“We need people who can go out there and meet people where they are. Candidly, it means we need grace,” she said. “We need imperfect allies. Both because we need numbers but also because you cannot change people’s hearts and minds if you exclude anyone who isn’t already 100% with you. Yes, changemaking is hard and it’s often unfair. The reality is that absolutism, whether on the left or the right, is only possible in authoritarianism, and marginalization is not going to cease in the process of overcoming marginalization.”

McBride knows a thing or two about that, having been barred from using the women’s restroom in the U.S. Capitol by GOP leaders and having been repeatedly misgendered in committee meetings. She doubled down on doing the work of governing and building alliances, rather than responding to each instance of linguistic negation, and over time, has watched some colleagues move from calling her “the gentleman from Delaware” to “the representative from Delaware.” 

Other political leaders are also seeking a pivot on how Democrats talk — and, perhaps by extension, how politically-correct-to-a-fault philanthropic leaders might choose to express their priorities. Then-congressman Ruben Gallego famously banned the use of the word “Latinx” from campaign materials as early as 2021, writing, “When Latino politicos use the term, it is largely to appease white rich progressives who think that is the term we use. It is a vicious circle of confirmation bias.” He won Arizona’s U.S. Senate seat in 2024 by going after Latino voters at boxing matches instead. And Sen. Brian Schatz of Hawaii has questioned whether the language of climate advocates and funders, not to mention legislators, is up to the moment. “You could talk about the planetary emergency and mitigation and adaptation, and you could throw in some environmental justice rhetoric, and by the time you’re done talking, people think you don’t care about them,” he said at the New York Times Climate Forward gathering during Climate Week NYC. “The way to victory is to talk about price,” he said, noting that “regular people … are watching their utility bills spike like a hockey stick.”

Now the movement is coming full circle, with communications professional Matt Watkins launching a column in the Chronicle of Philanthropy “to help nonprofit professionals reduce jargon and communicate in ways that build trust and understanding of the sector.” 

Watkins in June had warned, “The nonprofit sector’s language has become increasingly coded, more abstract, and — ironically — less meaningful…. Amid heightened public distrust of institutions, rising inequality, and growing hostility to nonprofits, such communication isn’t just ineffective. It’s dangerous.” Now, he’s hoping to help nonprofits find a new way to talk about their work and avoid what he calls “distortion triggers: language that signals professionalism but severs connection.”

Those who’ve been in the nonprofit, philanthropic or political spaces long enough may recall a different generation of political communicators working through similar issues three decades ago. David Kusnet, a former Mondale-Dukakis speechwriter who would go on to work for Bill Clinton, famously called it “Speaking American” in his 1992 book. George Lakoff voiced similar concerns in 2004’s “Don’t Think of an Elephant: Know Your Values and Frame the Debate.”

At each of these moments, many of the cultural changes — such as support for gay marriage and trans dignity — now normalized in much of the philanthropic and political space would have been, if not inconceivable, at least very far in the future. As a new generation of communicators and changemakers confronts a moment of retrenchment, there may be something to be learned from those who struggled with these issues in the past.

We are in a crisis of democracy on all fronts. The president has plans to gerrymander districts in states like Texas to ensure wins in the 2026 midterm elections. It is a deliberate strategy to thwart our constitutional democracy, taking away the power of voters and putting it into the hands of a few people to control all levers of government. This is a time for philanthropy to lean in.

On November 4, California is holding a special election that gives voters a voice in the California Election Rigging Response Act, or Proposition 50. California voters will have a say in how to protect our democracy through Proposition 50, unlike in Texas, where the governor is forcing a vote at the state legislature, bypassing voters altogether. Proposition 50 is our best shot at holding the line on California’s values of a multiracial democracy and an opportunity to level the playing field on the national level. 

Donors and foundations can provide an infusion of hope and investment at a time when many communities are paralyzed with fear. Philanthropy can still fund civic engagement for this election, similar to supporting outreach for the Census or getting people to the polls.

By no means is Proposition 50 a slam dunk. A perfect storm is threatening this special election. Our communities are still reeling from the militarized immigration raids in Los Angeles that have spread across the country. Most voters don’t even know there is an election, compounded by fears of federal intimidation at voting centers. Meanwhile, a crucial and expanding bloc of no-party preference voters may not turn out unless we engage them directly at their homes and in their own language. 

As the fourth-largest economy in the world, what happens in our state matters. It is our civic duty — for California and the rest of the country — to educate voters and protect their ability to cast votes on November 4. The California Donor Table has sent out nearly $2 million ($200,000 from our 501c3 fund for nonpartisan voter engagement work and $1.75 million from our issues committee in direct support of Yes on Prop 50). There are legal, nonpartisan avenues for foundations to engage. We invite our friends in philanthropy to fund and to donate courageously, like the California Community Foundation’s donation of over $1 million for Proposition 50. 

According to a July 2025 Berkeley IGS poll, an overwhelming majority, or 64%, of California voters believe American democracy is under attack. Investing in grantee partners on the front lines will go a long way this election and next year’s midterms towards long-term infrastructure. The need for credible messengers and robust civic engagement programs is especially critical in countering disinformation. 

As one of California’s lead philanthropic advisors, I have observed the chilling effect the federal administration’s threats to progressive philanthropy have had across the board. And it’s having an impact on fundraising for this special election. 

Among my many roles, I am a mother of two school-age children, an elected school board member in Los Angeles County, and a former civil rights attorney. Each year, I do a presentation about our constitution to elementary students. It’s something I look forward to and consider it my civic duty to teach the younger generation about how democracy works. 

A central part of my presentation is how the government’s authority comes from the people — that we, and yes, even elementary school kids, are the ultimate source of power. This is exercised through free and fair elections and is what Proposition 50 is about. 

Progressive philanthropy has a record of being bold and courageous. Most recently, over 100 foundations announced plans to push back against the president’s crackdown on nonprofits. Funders have been instrumental in moving the needle on voting rights, climate change, education, reproductive justice, healthcare, and racial justice, only to see generations of progress erased over the last eight months. 

Our democracy is in peril. Philanthropy can stand up to authoritarianism by funding in record amounts.

Nonprofit 501c3 and 501c4 organizations have a critical role in voter education and civic participation. Our grantees have a track record of successful civic engagement efforts and are already knocking on doors and canvasing on the phones. They just need more funding.

Our democracy is stronger when communities exercise their right to vote. It’s not too late for philanthropy to make a difference.

Rebecca Hamburg is Chief Impact Officer of the California Donor Table.

Editor’s Note: On September 9, Inside Philanthropy published an article by our editor-in-chief, David Callahan, “Philanthropy’s Identity Focus Strengthens the Right. Is There Another Way?,” and then a response the next day, “Retreating on Identity Will Not Unify Us,” by Tynesha McHarris, who is cofounder and co-executive director of the Black Feminist Fund. Here, Callahan and McHarris continue their dialogue.

David Callahan:

Tynesha McHarris and I have both spent our careers working for social change, and I suspect we broadly agree about what kind of country and world we’d like to see. 

Where we’re not in alignment is on the specific causes and kinds of organizations that philanthropy should prioritize most at this moment. McHarris wants funders to double down on work that centers identity, while I’ve argued for a move away from these approaches. 

In recent articles here and here, I’ve called on funders to shift priorities after years of scaling a progressive nonprofit ecosystem that is out of sync with the core concerns of working-class people of all races. While polling has long shown that economic issues are overwhelmingly the top priorities for these Americans, philanthropy has given such concerns short shrift over the past decade. Instead, it has placed a far greater priority on racial justice, LGBTQ rights, climate change, reproductive rights, gun violence and more.

While these are all crucially important issues, and many bear directly on economic wellbeing, they are not the top concerns of working-class voters, including young people and those of color, as I detailed in my article here. Not surprisingly, many struggling Americans do not view progressive civil society groups and a Democratic Party closely aligned with these groups as mainly focused on improving their lives economically, but rather as focused elsewhere.  

This basic mismatch helps explain why many voters of color have moved right in recent elections or just stayed home, and why young people swung heavily toward Trump last year. If this realignment endures, the MAGA movement has a strong chance of consolidating political dominance over an extended period. 

In the face of this alarming prospect, social change funders have a profound interest in helping the left-of-center coalition reverse its shrinkage and find ways to connect to a larger swath of Americans. Universalist appeals around affordability are the most obvious way to do that, as Zohran Mamdani, among other political leaders, has recently shown. At the same time, to be responsive, funders should set priorities that align with those of the communities they seek to serve and empower. This would mean investing much more deeply in work focused on economic security, especially grassroots organizing on issues like wages and benefits. It would also mean investing in ideas and narrative strategies that center the economy in the messaging of the left-of-center coalition — so there is no ambiguity about what that coalition mainly stands for. 

If legacy foundations dip into their endowments and living donors step up their giving, as I and others have repeatedly called upon them to do, such new investments need not mean shifting resources away from existing grantees. Nowhere have I suggested abandoning groups working on voting rights, criminal justice reform, reproductive rights, LGBTQ issues, and more. Nor do I wish to “silence, dismiss and delegitimize” the communities these groups represent, as McHarris suggests. Much of the organizing on economic issues I’d like to see scaled up is spearheaded by women and people of color. That’s also true of the civic participation groups that I’ve suggested funders back at a much greater level as we look to the 2026 midterms and next presidential election.

Overall, the main goal of my recent writings has been to push philanthropy to close the mismatch between what kind of social change work it prioritizes and what concerns working-class Americans care about most. 

At the same time, I’ve also spotlighted a separate, serious problem with how things have played out over the past decade. Even as social justice efforts on race and gender have failed to generate the mobilizing effects for the left that many anticipated, they have proven to be a potent mobilizer for the right, helping to activate white nationalism, stoke male status anxieties and drive zero-sum political appeals. Moreover, the backlash to the woke left hasn’t just been confined to whites and men; it also helps explain the defection of culturally moderate voters of color from the left-of-center coalition, as well as independents.

McHarris and I think differently about how funders should navigate political backlash on issues of race and gender. To her, the solution is to double down on existing work on identity, backstopped with far greater resources. 

I don’t think that will work, given how the left’s identity focus provides fuel for the right’s divisive, fear-based strategies, as Steve Bannon has openly acknowledged. The more we lean in here, the more MAGA benefits.  

This dynamic is another reason funders should seek to shift focus to economic concerns, in addition to better aligning their grantmaking priorities with those of working-class communities. 

I understand McHarris’ reservations about seeming to make any concessions whatsoever to the forces of reaction. But, to me, it’s crucial to keep in mind an overriding goal here: to block the authoritarian right and, someday soon, put in place elected leaders in Washington and more states that will recommit to building a more inclusive, fair and just society. 

This is a political challenge, even as the stakes are deeply moral. And in my writing, I’ve approached it as such — looking at what it will take to reverse recent defections from the left-of-center coalition, connect with a broader swath of working-class voters, and win power. Everything I’ve seen and heard in recent years suggests that issues of economic opportunity must be at the center of this project. 

If McHarris believes that identity appeals offer a better way forward, it’d be good to hear her thoughts on why and how such a strategy is likely to work out, leading to the shifts in political leadership that we both want to see. 

Tynesha McHarris:

David Callahan’s essay leans on two myths liberals should have retired long ago. The first is that race, gender and class can be separated into neat little buckets. The second is that movements advancing racial and gender justice are somehow responsible for fueling the backlash of white nationalism and authoritarianism. Both are wrong. And worse, they recycle the oldest playbook: blaming the people fighting for freedom instead of the forces trying to destroy it. 

We may agree on “what kind of country and world we’d like to see,” but we differ on what it takes to get there. 

Let’s start with the history Callahan conveniently brushes aside as he’s focused on the “working class.” Black, brown, Indigenous, queer, immigrant, disabled and women leaders have always organized with a class analysis. The 1963 March on Washington wasn’t just about civil rights; it was literally called the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. The Black Panthers demanded housing, healthcare and jobs, right alongside an end to racist policing. Black women led the welfare rights movement because they knew you cannot separate economic dignity from racial and gender justice. Suggesting otherwise is like pretending water and wet are two different things.

Today’s “working class” is not a 1950s stereotype. It includes unemployed and underemployed people, care workers, migrants, women and trans people whose struggles are inseparable from questions of race and gender.

Callahan seems to have some issues with the Democratic Party that he may want to address separately instead of conflating them with social justice organizations and movements. What he is missing is that what he calls “identity organizing” is actually leadership from and centering the most oppressed communities, leadership that makes society better for everyone. Black feminists, for example, have fought for reproductive justice, voting rights, fair wages, land rights and decent work. Their victories expand possibilities for all working-class people, including white men. That is true universalism.

Let’s be plain. This system, including the two-party machine that protects a small, wealthy elite, is not working for anyone. The evidence is clear. Billionaires recently got a tax cut while food aid was gutted and families were pushed deeper into hunger and precarity. By contrast, the deep transformation Black trans sisters are fighting for around gender is not a threat. It is a blueprint. Their struggle expands what freedom and dignity can look like, and those gains ripple out to strengthen society as a whole.

Instead, Callahan insists that racial and gender justice movements have “activated” white nationalism. From my perspective, white supremacist and fascist movements in this country never went away, nor has their influence. During Reconstruction, racist elites spread fear of “Negro domination” to justify lynching and disenfranchisement. Reagan turned Black women into caricatures of “welfare queens” to gut social programs. At every turn, the oppressed are blamed for the reactionary rage of their oppressors. To claim today’s movements are “causing” white male anxiety is like blaming someone for getting in the way of a punch. The fist was already coming.

And the numbers don’t lie. In 2020, 58% of white voters backed Trump. Only 12% of Black voters and about a third of Latino voters did. In 2024, Trump made small gains with some young Black and Latino men (some appealing to a desire for power over women), but his base remains overwhelmingly white, with strong support from white voters who are struggling economically as wages stagnate, unions collapse and income inequality balloons. 

But here’s the thing: Instead of being met with solidarity and shared economic vision, too many of those frustrations were channeled by elites into resentment. The right offered those voters a simple story that their hardship was caused not by corporations or billionaires but by immigrants, by women, by trans kids in schools, by Black communities supposedly getting “special treatment.” It’s the oldest political bait-and-switch in the book. It is a strategy to divide the working class, and those within the working class with a modicum of privilege are told to hold onto their crumbs.  

Instead, we need to build unity because of differences, not in spite of them. Picture young white people flooding the streets, chanting Black Lives Matter. Cis women holding their trans family close in the fight against patriarchy. Labor movements organizing to stop arms shipments intended for the genocide in Palestine. Black workers keeping vigil outside detention centers, setting up camp so migrants know they are not alone. 

What movements are actually building is far more sophisticated. Leaders like Zohran Mamdani prove that universalist appeals in politics don’t mean abandoning recognition of the differentiated impact of this system on different groups’ identities. Rather, they mean weaving struggles together. Mamdani has fought for housing, healthcare and the care economy precisely because he understands how race, gender and class are intertwined — just as in our own lives, these are not issues that can be easily put in buckets. As he himself has said, you can’t fight for housing justice in Queens without fighting racial injustice, because housing has always been racialized. That’s not an add-on. That’s the point.

On philanthropy, let’s be clear. The amount of funding going to what Callahan calls identity groups (a reductive and dangerous nomenclature), has been peanuts. The narrative that philanthropy has poured limitless resources into racial and gender justice movements is fiction. Yes, there was a (minute-long) surge in pledges after 2020 (following the violence and killing of Black people that mobilized what the New York Times has called the largest movement in U.S. history), but follow-through has been uneven, and the actual dollars pale in comparison to what’s needed. At the first attacks on DEI, a lot of foundations wanted info scrubbed from grantees’ websites and their own. Callahan, given his experience in philanthropy, should know better. The foundation world has been too white and too careful for far too long. Despite that, movements are still being scapegoated as if the modest funding to their causes somehow single-handedly fueled the resurgence of authoritarianism in this country. That distortion is itself part of the backlash playbook. The truth is, there are more than enough resources to fully fund racial and gender justice movements, which are themselves advancing some of the most progressive multiracial, class-solidarity economic justice work. To pit these movements against a so-called “working class” agenda is not strategy; it’s sabotage.

So here’s the choice philanthropy has to make. Keep chasing the mirage that class can be cleanly cut away from race and gender, or invest in the leaders and movements who are building strategies strong enough to actually defeat authoritarianism. History has already given us the answer. Every time democracy has bent to fascism, it was because people convinced themselves that conceding ground might calm the mob. Spoiler alert:  It never has.

David Callahan:

In my article above and elsewhere, I’ve argued that there is a deep mismatch between the priorities of the philanthropy-backed social justice left — which is closely identified with the Democratic Party in voters’ minds — and the priorities of working-class people of all races. As a consequence, the left-of-center coalition is weak and getting weaker as many voters of color and young people move to the right. This realignment has been the exact opposite outcome from what progressive funders had hoped for and expected over the past decade or more. 

Tynesha McHarris doesn’t appear ready to confront these uncomfortable realities or to puzzle out why, exactly, so many of us on the left have gotten things so wrong. Instead, she confidently suggests that the way forward is to better resource existing strategies.

This feels like complacency to me, and brings to mind Albert Einstein’s famous quote: “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”  

That quote was recently repeated to me by the leader of a top progressive funding intermediary, who added: “Anyone who says we have all the answers and knows the way forward is wrong.” 

I’ve often encountered that same sense of humility in my conversations with dozens of progressive leaders, and I feel quite humbled myself by this moment. But there’s very little uncertainty in McHarris’ commentary, which signals to me that she has yet to fully engage with emerging electoral trends that should have everyone who cares about social change in full freakout mode. 

While McHarris mentions Trump’s gains among voters of color, she’s not telling the full story about what’s happened and why, or just how ominous the implications are. Since 2012, Latinos — one of the fastest-growing cohorts of the electorate — have swung right by 14 points and, in 2024, Trump didn’t just win “some” young Latino men by appealing to their misogyny, as McHarris suggests. He won a majority of Latino men of all ages, a 13-point swing from 2016 when this same group overwhelmingly voted for another woman candidate, Hillary Clinton. Young Latinos have swung the most — 76% of Latino 18- to 29-year-olds voted for Clinton in 2016, while just 57% voted for Kamala Harris last year.

Likewise, AAPI voters — the other fastest-growing part of the electorate — have been moving right, swinging 13 points since 2012, with young people again leading this shift: 18- to 29-year-olds in this group swung right by 19 points. Black voters, meanwhile, have shifted 11 points to the right since 2012. 

These overall trends have been much more pronounced in specific places, like South Florida, the Rio Grande Valley, the Bronx and South Los Angeles. I encourage readers to spend time with the New York Times’ detailed maps of shifts in both the 2020 and 2024 elections to gain a more granular view of what’s been happening. 

McHarris is correct that Democrats have continued to win a majority of nonwhite voters, especially Black voters. However, the realignment that has occurred so far was sufficient to secure Trump’s win last year and his near-win in 2020, as well as other key races in recent years. What’s more, there are strong reasons to believe such realignment will continue, and even accelerate, as I’ve discussed elsewhere. 

This shift to the right among key Democratic constituencies should provoke deep reflection on the assumptions guiding a lot of grantmaking, advocacy and organizing. How did we get things so wrong? 

I’ve attempted my own answer to this vexing question in recent articles, focusing on three points: First, progressive funders and strategists didn’t anticipate the deep danger of sidelining core economic issues; second, they overestimated the potency of appeals around rights and identity, as well as climate, to mobilize key constituencies; and third, they underestimated the degree to which these same appeals would serve as a counter-mobilizer for the right. 

Since McHarris doesn’t concede that progressive funders got anything wrong, it’s no surprise that she dismisses my explanations of why things went off track.  

McHarris insists that economic concerns have not been sidelined, since issues of class are deeply entwined with race and gender, and social justice movements have always organized in ways that reflect these interconnections. That is certainly true, but McHarris misses a key present-day reality: Most Americans, including working-class voters of color, have not seen economic issues as the dominant narrative thread of the social justice left over the past decade, or of the Democratic Party, as I detail elsewhere. 

The perception that progressives are uninterested in people’s economic struggles might not matter so much if key Democratic constituencies were strongly motivated by the priorities that the social justice left has emphasized, but this hasn’t turned out to be the case.

Like so many others, I long assumed that Trump’s open racism, misogyny and nativism would trigger a powerful, ongoing backlash among the groups he’s targeted. I’ve also assumed that the issue of climate change would be a powerful galvanizer for young voters worried about their future. But none of this has happened to the degree many of us imagined. On the contrary, Trump has done far better with voters of color than any Republican in modern history.  

It’s taken me time to admit this difficult reality, which feels deeply counterintuitive. McHarris is still not there. 

Various analysts and advocates have offered explanations of why the left’s social justice messaging has often fallen flat with voters of color. A key observation here is that frameworks that focus on oppression and racial hierarchy fail to resonate with many Latinos and AAPI voters, who don’t see themselves within such frames, and are instead focused on their opportunities for upward mobility. Many younger Black people, meanwhile, feel well removed from the civil rights era, even as that historical experience remains a touchstone for older Black voters. 

These dynamics are complicated, but you’d never know that from listening to McHarris, who seems uninterested in puzzling out what is driving political realignment among voters of color. Instead, she mostly attributes these shifts solely to the right’s effectiveness at dividing the working class with grievance politics. To be sure, that’s an important factor — in particular, online misinformation is rife in communities of color. But larger forces are clearly at work here. And if progressives can’t figure out what’s going on and how to respond, MAGA is likely to consolidate power with a coalition that includes growing numbers of nonwhite voters. 

As for my last point, that the left’s identity appeals have been a mobilizer for the right, McHarris takes umbrage that I would even say such a thing out loud. By doing so, she suggests that I’m blaming and scapegoating social movements. Here again, though, she’s sidestepping an uncomfortable reality that progressives need to engage with. 

Nowhere in my writing have I blamed justice advocates for providing fuel for white nationalism and male backlash. Instead, I’ve made a factual observation: Mobilization on identity almost invariably produces counter-mobilization on identity. The right understands this ugly cycle and has intentionally exploited it. Steve Bannon wants the left to keep leaning into identity. This is a winner for MAGA in a majority white country with a strong white nationalist movement and deep patriarchal currents. 

McHarris argues that social justice advocates shouldn’t think strategically about backlash, since “the fist was already coming.” I just disagree. Common sense suggests that if your messaging is helping your political opponents, you look for other ways forward. What you don’t do is shut down the conversation by slamming anyone who raises the topic. 

I would offer that same advice more broadly to the progressive left. This is not a moment to retreat to moral certainties and call out anyone who deviates from the script. We’re in a bad place, and we’re going to need a lot of open-minded, creative thinking to find a way out. 

Tynesha McHarris:

I reached out to David Callahan upon reading his initial piece, “Philanthropy’s Identity Focus Strengthens the Right. Is There Another Way?,” because what he framed as a diagnosis, I see as dangerous misdirection — one that risks fueling funders to abandon racial and gender justice movements at the very moment they are under the fiercest attack.

Callahan says I’m complacent, that I refuse to “confront reality.” What I refuse to do is confuse panic with strategy. The real complacency is believing we can appease white nationalism and authoritarianism by sidelining the very communities they are hell bent on erasing. Now is not the time for retreat. Now is the time to recommit to lifting up the most precarious and vulnerable.

I understand that Callahan represents a faction that wants to win elections in the short term at any cost. Don’t get me wrong, I want to win, too. Elections are critical battlegrounds, especially in this moment when authoritarianism is not creeping but charging forward. But to me, a Black feminist who has dedicated her life to justice, winning is not limited to election outcomes. Elections are tactical steps, not the endgame.

And here’s the truth: We won’t even win elections through Callahan’s strategy. History is clear. We don’t secure durable victories by abandoning the very people who have always carried progress forward. Black women, immigrants, Muslim, queer and trans people are the voters and leaders who tip elections, and they will not be mobilized by a politics of erasure. They are mobilized when their whole lives are seen, defended and invested in.

We won’t be doing that if philanthropy turns its back on the rights of trans people, immigrants, Latinx, Indigenous, Muslim and Black communities, especially while the Trump administration works to criminalize DEI and dissent, ban books, gut the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice, abduct migrants and erase the history of slavery and genocide from our national memory.

At the same time, the federal government is being weaponized to intimidate, harass and punish funders, movements and community leaders. And no surprise, the first targets in this unconstitutional, vengeance-driven agenda are organizations advancing racial justice, immigrant justice and civil rights, as the right-wing smear tank Capital Research Center brags in its so-called “investigations.”

So now, philanthropy should shift gears and embrace race and gender-blind “working class” issues? I disagree. The administration’s intimidation tactics toward philanthropy are designed to sow fear, and many are retreating. But this is when we must stand together, especially with those at greatest risk.

This is why I cofounded the Black Feminist Fund. Because only a sliver of philanthropy was reaching Black feminists, we committed to long-term, capacity-building investments in groups working toward transformative change across the globe. And it is working. These efforts are strengthening entire communities economically, politically, socially and culturally. 

And the data makes it plain: When you fund Black feminist movements, you are funding working-class struggles. In April 2025, Black women lost more than 100,000 jobs, the largest decline of any demographic group that month, and their unemployment rate jumped from 5.1 % to 6.1%, while rates for white and Latina women stayed relatively flat. Black women are among the hardest hit by a racial agenda disguised as economic policy. Investing in the movements Black feminists lead is not symbolic; it is how you strengthen the working class itself.

Callahan wants us to believe we can choose class over race and still win. History says otherwise. Nikole Hannah-Jones reminds us that after Reconstruction, poor white sharecroppers allied with elites who held the wealth because whiteness was the bigger payoff. That’s not ancient history, it’s a pattern. Every time democracy has bent to fascism and white supremacy, it was because people convinced themselves that conceding ground on rights would somehow buy stability. It never has.

And let’s not romanticize the “working class” as though it were neutral. As I have shared in previous writings, today’s working class is women, immigrants, care workers, queer and trans people, Black and brown communities. You cannot fight for housing justice without fighting racism. You cannot fight for wages without confronting the gendered devaluation of care. Race, gender and class are not separate buckets, they are inseparable.

Do I think philanthropy’s response to racial justice since 2020 has often been shallow, performative, even transactional? Absolutely. Too many foundations rushed out pledges only to retreat at the first sign of backlash. Movements felt used for box-checking and short-term civic engagement cycles. Those failures are real. But the answer is to deepen the work, not abandon it.

Meanwhile, Trump’s so-called “economic agenda” has done nothing for working-class communities. No wage gains. No expanded safety net. Just tax cuts for billionaires while families are pushed deeper into precarity. To focus philanthropy only on “pocketbook issues” is to fall into the right’s trap, reducing politics to gas prices while ignoring authoritarianism’s real project. As the Othering & Belonging Institute points out, weaponizing race and gender is not a side tactic of authoritarian regimes, it is the strategy.

So let’s be honest. Election outcomes matter, and we cannot afford to lose them. But they are not the only measure of progress. The real test is whether we will stand together in courage or collapse into preemptive compliance. Call it identity politics. Call it saving democracy. Call it what you want. The reality is that lives and freedoms are on the line.

Time is of the essence. We cannot waste it on false choices.

Since taking office in January, President Donald Trump and his administration have been on a mission, or so it seems, to return U.S. energy policy to the 1980s. Political appointees, like so many Pac-Men released inside the government, have gobbled up climate funding, programs, scientific databases and even language itself — attempting to ban terms like “climate change” from the federal lexicon.

Amid this full-on policy assault by the power-suit-loving president and his staff, what does U.S. climate philanthropy plan to do to get, uh, back to the future? And what has it done so far?

I’ve been trying to address these questions all year, yet answers have been hard to come by. Most funders, and particularly legacy foundations and billionaire-backed operations, have been tight lipped amid fears of being targeted, and almost no foundations are announcing major new climate grants. Trump’s recent threats to prosecute the Open Society Foundations and the Ford Foundation will likely deepen the silence.

But in conversations over the past few months with leaders at regrantors, philanthropy-supporting organizations and consultants, a few common ideas have emerged about opportunities for the sector and current areas of focus in this moment — i.e., the year 2025, not the era of Rubik’s Cubes, waterbeds and VHS.

None of these topics are new, but for each, I encountered multiple people (including some who did not want to be quoted) who either feel philanthropic capital can still make a difference on these fronts, or believe such endeavors are crucial to overcoming the climate movement’s current challenges.

Ensure the U.S. can build the energy infrastructure needed for the future

This one should come as no surprise: Siting and permitting reform — i.e., making it easier to build the energy infrastructure we need for a future where everything is electric — has been the talk of energy analysts for years. It even briefly looked like it would become law. 

Democrats secured Joe Manchin’s vote on the Inflation Reduction Act by promising to take up permitting reform, and a rare bipartisan group got behind a draft in 2022, though opposition from both sides of the aisle, particularly from environmental advocates worried communities’ voices would be silenced, left the bill well short of the 60 votes needed to advance. 

Despite that shortfall, the following years have seen a variety of push factors. 

Debate over regulatory obstacles has surged, with books like “Abundance” by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson arguing that liberals should support what they call the “abundance agenda,” which focuses on reducing red tape for housing and energy infrastructure in particular. A cross-ideological cadre of philanthropic billionaires, from perennial anti-climate donor Charles Koch to liberal-leaning effective altruists Dustin Moskovitz and Cari Tuna, have shown interest. 

Demand for energy infrastructure has also spiraled upward due to AI and data centers, while energy prices have surged. Add in the Trump administration’s enthusiasm for AI, not to mention cryptocurrency, another resource-intensive technology, and some see a recipe, if risky, for bipartisan agreement on permitting.

Johannes Ackva, the climate lead at Founders Pledge, a network of entrepreneurs who commit to funding climate action, said that permitting reform would be harder under Trump, particularly after the Republican budget bill ended many energy tax credits. But he remains bullish about its prospects, even if the path is unclear.

“I think the next big thing is going to be permitting reform,” he said. “It’s essentially, next to the tax credits, the other thing that can unleash clean energy.”

Peter Colavito, executive director of Invest in Our Future, the multifunder collaborative formed to speed implementation of the IRA, suggested there’s a need for targeted action, such as mobilizing spokespeople to advocate for key projects.

“This is not just about changing federal regulations,” he said. “This is, a lot of the time, the blocking and tackling at the ground level to persuade people that these projects are good for them.”

Given the challenges, both in D.C. and within many states and regions, it’s worth considering measures that will achieve climate goals under a different name, while addressing community needs, said Laurel Blatchford, former chief implementation officer for the Inflation Reduction Act at the U.S. Department of the Treasury.

“Even in this rapidly changing policy environment, there are opportunities to improve policy design and delivery,” she said in an email. “One such example is permitting, which is getting a lot of important effort and attention at the state and local level.”

Build a bigger U.S. climate and environmental tent

Since Trump was elected, I’ve been hearing about the climate movement’s need to broaden its coalition. That has not changed. The call seems to be coming from across the philanthropic landscape, though some of the particulars advanced by advocates may differ.

Stephanie Chan, who recently started as co-president of the Neighborhood Funders Group, said one focus for them has been bringing together unlikely allies around climate and environmental justice goals. She recalled a 2018 South Dakota campaign that brought together rural white farmers and Indigenous organizers to challenge pipeline projects on the initial basis that the “enemy of my enemy is my friend,” but ultimately led to deeper alignment. 

“These are two groups whose politics are incredibly different, but they have this shared, common goal around protecting the land that they are on,” she said. In a state with a population of less than 1 million, such partnerships were widely noticed.

Ackva at Founders Pledge had argued prior to Trump’s election for supporting eco-right groups to diversify the climate coalition, and repeated that argument after the election in a January report, “All In: Strategies for Climate Philanthropists in a New Political Landscape.” (For context, see my 2022 piece on eco-right funding.) He said the surge of post-election funding such groups received has not changed what he views as the urgency of that call.

“It would be a misconception to think that the eco-right is now well-funded, or that the eco-right was well-funded to engage on this,” he said.

In reviewing these conversations, I was struck by some leaders, such as Chan, who talk about building a bigger climate tent in language that feels like an extension of the community, and by the power-building work — often referred to as climate equity — that was gaining momentum following George Floyd’s murder. Ackva and others put the emphasis on moving funding to areas, such as the eco-right, that historically have not had support from climate philanthropy. 

These two areas do not need to be in conflict. There are places, such as rural communities, where both can find purchase, not to mention around the general idea of building a long-term foundation for an economy that works for everyone. But how best to pursue the goal of a more expansive climate movement seems likely to remain a source of tension within the movement in the months and years ahead.

Networks of grantmakers are, well, networking

When grantmakers want to know what other funders are doing, they often turn to affinity groups, or networks of grantmakers who fund on a similar topic. This year, a number of those networks have amped up their own collaboration, both within the environmental space and beyond.

A wide variety of environmental groups have been holding regular meetings to track Trump administration actions on topics like food and agriculture policy and environmental justice. Other subgroups, like Health and Environmental Funders Network, The Funders Network and Neighborhood Funders Group’s Integrated Rural Strategies Group, are working on specific events.

Collaboration between these networks isn’t remotely new, but this moment has deepened some of those efforts. Several said the work has been critical, allowing grantmakers to check in on what’s happening in other communities, the needs that are arising, and how to work together. 

In a more traditional vein, Sustainable Agriculture and Food Systems Funders held an August webinar co-sponsored by eight other philanthropy-supporting organizations on the impact of summer heat on farmworkers.

“It’s important for information on the current policy landscape/where things stand with federal funding freezes and unfreezes to be available to the public so we are all operating with intel that is as up to date as possible,” said Maggie Mascarenhas, the group’s public policy manager, in an email.

Amanda Andere, Neighborhood Funders Group’s other newly arrived co-president, said her organization’s rural group, along with Health and Environmental Funders Network and The Funders Network, are planning a three-part webinar series, “Pathways for Advancing and Defending Equitable Solutions In the Wake of Federal Rollbacks and Attacks,” which will cover the federal budget and potential actions for nonprofits. 

But she noted the meetings actually started before the Trump administration, in a bid for better alignment between the groups, and there remains a long-term vision.  

“There’s a number of things that will come out of that collaboration,” she said. “It’s not meant to be like a one-time thing.”

Michael Kavate covers climate philanthropy and billionaire donors. He welcomes feedback, disagreements, tips and requests.

Last year, Young Futures, a new nonprofit with billionaire backing and a mission to help young people thrive in an increasingly digital world, debuted with the aim of supporting nonprofits pursuing that goal. It’s done so through a series of funding challenges that address issues young people face today, like mental health, isolation and loneliness, and phones in schools. On October 15, Young Futures announced the grant recipients for its Here Comes the Fun challenge, which explores the important role of play in youth wellbeing. And last week, Young Futures rolled out its fifth challenge to date, Oops…! AI Did It Again, which aims to identify, support and scale innovative solutions to help young people thrive as AI becomes increasingly prevalent in every domain of life. 

“The challenge addresses the urgent need to equip young people with the skills, knowledge and confidence to navigate AI, which is rapidly reshaping their learning, creativity, relationships and mental health,” as Young Futures puts it. 

For the Oops…! AI Did It Again challenge, Young Futures will award up to 10 one-year grants ranging from $25,000 to $100,000. The challenge will identify and support organizations developing innovative tools and programs to foster the safe, positive use of AI in classrooms, online and in relationships. The goal is to help young people safely navigate the brave new AI world — and to provide adults the information they need to help them.

Young Futures highlights AI’s risks for young people

AI is everywhere these days, and its influence is growing as the technology becomes increasingly advanced. Many find it frightening, with concerns ranging from its impact on the job market, the environment and human relationships, to more dire prospects, like warfare conducted by killer robots and, ultimately, human annihilation. But as companies compete in a race to dominate the market, they’re paying little attention to the many possible dangers of this revolutionary technology. 

Katya Hancock, Young Futures’ CEO, believes the failure to consider the potential downsides of the AI boom poses particular risks for young people. “Billions of dollars are flowing into the development of artificial intelligence, but almost none of it reaches the places where young people actually interact with these tools: classrooms, libraries, family homes and, let’s be honest, everywhere they’re online,” she wrote on LinkedIn. “We’ve invested heavily in the technology itself, but not in the people and systems that help teens use AI safely, critically, and with confidence.” The post is headlined “We poured billions into AI. We forgot the kids.”

Young people may not be getting the guidance they need to find their way safely through this new landscape, but that isn’t stopping them from exploring it anyway. Many are doing so alone and in secret, which can lead to anxiety and other potential mental health effects, as Young Futures notes. According to a recent study, half of young people report using AI. Common Sense Media found that close to 3 in 4 teens have used AI companions. 

In conversations with young people, the Young Futures team learned they have mixed feelings about AI. Many worry about how it will affect their job prospects and about its impact on the climate, and are concerned that adults seem to be ignoring these very real threats. At the same time, many say AI can be a useful homework aid; others find genuine comfort from AI companions. “This is not to say we shouldn’t have regulation around AI and especially companion bots; they have not been designed with young people’s safety in mind and that is a huge problem,” Hancock told me. “But when we have these conversations around young people’s AI use, we have to come at it with empathy and try to understand where they’re coming from.”

A philanthropy-backed infrastructure to support youth wellbeing

Young Futures was created with seed funding from Melinda French Gates’ Pivotal, the Susan Crown Exchange and The Goodness Web. Other foundational partners include Arthur M. Blank Family Foundation, the Enlight Foundation, and Resonance Philanthropies, a DAF funded by Sheri Sobrato, a member of the Sobrato family, that is housed at the Silicon Valley Community Foundation. 

Other funders contribute to specific Young Futures challenges; Here Comes the Fun was supported by Niantic Spatial, for example. For the most recent challenge, the Bezos Family Foundation, Hopelab, Omidyar Network and Pinterest (which also provided support for a challenge addressing phones in schools), are also providing funding.

Young Futures has benefited from growing concern about mental health — in society as a whole and in the philanthrosphere in particular. This concern has been spurred by the widespread mental health crisis, with young people at particular risk. Mindful Philanthropy, which was created to raise awareness of the issue among funders, has worked to do just that by offering research, regular convenings, support and calls to action, but investments still lag behind the urgent need. 

In the face of the ongoing youth mental health crisis, Young Futures has plans to expand its reach. In September, during the Clinton Global Initiative’s annual meeting, the Young Futures team announced YF500, a collaborative funding vehicle that the organization calls “​​a first-of-its-kind philanthropic index fund.” The goal is to support the development of a national network of organizations working toward youth wellbeing. “This five-year, $50 million commitment will fund, connect and amplify 500 nonprofit leaders across the United States who are working at the critical intersection of youth, technology and mental health,” according to the announcement. 

The YF500 fund aims to build a community of organizations like the ones whose work Young Futures has amplified through its challenges. The goal is to break down silos and enable organizations to collaborate and share ideas in a way that strengthens them all. 

“​​It’s really a commitment to scaling our work,” Hancock said. “We’ve done four funding challenges now and funded 35 grantees, and we see the work they’re doing individually and as a collective as being super impactful in the lives of young people. They’re doing amazing things in their communities and we feel strongly that if we want to make a more systemic impact, we have to scale it. It’s an invitation for like-minded funders to support these early-stage nonprofits together; it allows funders to share some of the risk and get involved in a new space.”

Young Futures already has commitments amounting to 40% of its $50 million goal, and Hancock is hoping more funders will sign on. “The plan is simple: Invest in the people and places teens already trust, link them together, and give them the tools to move faster and learn together,” she wrote when the fund was announced. In a recent interview, she added, “The work of each individual organization is so important, but imagine it as a connected ecosystem.”

“Sue the bastards” may be the most effective act of resistance in America right now — and one organization leading the charge to rein in the executive branch is headquartered close to the White House. 

Since President Donald Trump’s return to power, the national nonprofit Democracy Forward has filed hundreds of legal actions and kicked off more than 150 investigations to contest unconstitutional acts, protect civil service employees and safeguard public programs under threat by the Trump-Vance administration. 

Now led by Skye Perryman, Democracy Forward was launched in 2017 during the early months of Trump’s first presidency. Today, the legal action and public policy group has a staff of around 130, more than half of whom are lawyers. It has also partnered with more than 650 organizations intent on defending democracy in the United States. Democracy Forward operates along two tracks, the 501c3 Democracy Forward Foundation and the 501c4 Democracy Forward, both of which have Perryman as president and CEO.

A founding member of Democracy Forward’s litigation team, Perryman returned to the organization and took the helm a few months after January 6, 2021. Perryman previously served as chief legal officer and general counsel of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, where she has said she witnessed the harm extremism had wrought in states across the country in the reproductive care space. 

The 501c3 foundation’s donors include individuals (small and high dollar), grantor institutions and foundations. The Sandler Foundation gifted the group $16 million between 2018 and 2023, and the Susan Thompson Buffett Foundation gave around $4 million between 2021 and 2023. More recently, the David and Lucile Packard Foundation gave $2.5 million between 2024 and 2025, and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation gifted more than $6.25 million, also during those two years, according to the foundations’ websites.

Since 2021, the organization has significantly ratcheted up its budget every year. The work is difficult and labor intensive, said Perryman, and Trump 2.0 called for scaling and staffing (including hiring former federal agency attorneys) to meet need, show strength and create a court-based counterattack rooted in disruptive volume. In Democracy Forward’s recently ended fiscal year, its budget was around $50 million; the organization wants to double that figure for the fiscal year ahead. “You cannot fight autocracy by the spoonful,“ Perryman told IP.

Ten months into this presidential term, the organization shows no sign of letting up on its efforts to challenge, resist or otherwise “make good trouble” when it comes to challenging Trump’s authoritarian playbook. “Since Inauguration Day, Democracy Forward has gone to court every day on behalf of people of all ideologies and identities,” Perryman told Congress in June.  “That’s because since Inauguration Day, the president and his administration have acted beyond the lawful bounds of executive authority, usurping the power of Congress, seeking to eliminate due process of law, ignoring court orders and targeting vulnerable people and organizations.”

Perryman, the product of a Texas public school education, calls it as she sees it. And what she sees: The current occupants of the White House are doing all they can to dismantle American democratic values, policies and laws. “These anti-democratic and authoritarian actions present overall threats to our nation’s democracy as well as to the safety and security of people living in America,” she said at the June congressional hearing. “Right now, the American people are in danger and our democracy is in crisis.”

See you in court: Challenging policies, forming partnerships, protecting people

The organization is beyond busy. It’s on a mission to block actions, buy time and otherwise slow Trump’s roll in his effort to dismantle democracy during his Oval Office do-over. 

Since the start of 2025, Democracy Forward’s legal team has filed to: stop the president’s federal funding freezes; block the decimation of the U.S. Department of Education; ensure the right to due process for all Americans; challenge DOGE and Elon Musk’s attempts to access the personal data of individual Americans; protect religious communities and prevent ICE from entering houses of worship to indiscriminately conduct enforcement operations; contest policies that prolong the detention of immigrant children without their families; and dispute the lack of due process afforded clients — including men disappeared through an unlawful agreement between the government of El Salvador and the U.S. Department of State. 

Democracy Forward has garnered kudos for its deftness at tackling Trump in court, whether challenging executive orders, statutes or regulations. Political reporter Michael Scherer of The Atlantic recently dubbed Democracy Forward “the single largest source of Trump’s legal troubles,” a moniker the group quickly touted. And Perryman has been singled out for her leadership. She was named one of 2025’s Time 100, the magazine’s annual list of influential people, as well as one of this year’s 500 Most Influential People Shaping Policy by Washingtonian magazine and one of The NonProfit Times’ Power & Influence Top 50.  

The organization’s  adept use of the judicial branch is the result of a two-year effort by its litigation crew, who crafted potential legal strategies for combating federal policy plans detailed in Project 2025 in the lead-up to the 2024 election. The 900-page political playbook the right-wing think tank Heritage Foundation compiled in preparation for Trump’s return to power gave the lawyers at Democracy Forward plenty to work with. They also coordinated with hundreds of civil society groups and state attorneys general to determine when to collaborate to defend the rule of law.

Their legal offensive has met with some success. Of the 437 cases filed through October 8  against the Trump administration, 141 have led to orders blocking at least part of the president’s efforts, and 193 cases await a ruling, according to a tally by Just Security, a litigation tracker that lists challenges to Trump’s administrative actions. Dozens of those rulings are the last word — meaning there is no avenue for appeal by the government — while others have been stayed on appeal, including by the conservative majority Supreme Court, as Scherer has noted.

Democracy Forward initiated many of the filings, working to find plaintiffs they could represent pro bono to make their legal arguments and illustrate the harm caused by administration  actions. They have relentlessly attempted to block, blunt or otherwise temper Trump’s often mayhem-inducing executive orders, and filed to have other violations of the law and Constitution reversed, delayed or upended. Said Perryman: “Our work demonstrates that the American people are determined to protect their rights, to use lawful and peaceful means of petitioning their government, and, when necessary, to hold their government accountable.” 

Democracy Forward recently launched and staffed an appellate practice to increase its capacity to challenge Trump’s administrative actions and to address a gap left by private law firms bowing out of politically sensitive pro bono appellate litigation in the current charged climate.

Of course, there’s still that conservative-led Supreme Court to contend with, which to date has ruled more favorably for the president than district courts. Given that, the legal scorecard could eventually swing in the president’s favor, as the mostly Republican-appointed justices consider legal questions presented by team Trump. And yet…

More than one way to measure success

Perryman pointed out that court victories are only one way of measuring success. The court of public opinion is also at stake. Pollsters tracking Trump’s approval ratings will likely assess the effect the legal efforts have on the 2026 midterm elections; according to an October Reuters/Ipso poll, Trump’s job approval rating stands at 40%, his second-lowest number since taking office. “Despite the bluster from the White House, the president has been losing public support. He is losing in court in ways that he did not anticipate,” Perryman told The Atlantic. 

Voters have the power to provide the ultimate check, Perryman told IP, and these court fights are a way of alerting and educating the American public to all the ways the Trump administration is overreaching. “In this new paradigm, success is not one thing,” she said. “Success is not just winning a final court order, although I’m convinced we will in some of our cases. Success in this moment is people being able to demonstrate that in this country, the people are still supreme, and they have the power to stop what is, right now, a runaway and autocratic executive branch.”

Showcasing the enduring power of individuals is among Democracy Forward’s biggest weapons. “The No. 1 tool autocratic actors use is to deprive people of their hope and to try to convince people that they have no tools or power left,” said Perryman. “Our team prioritizes matters that are able to affirm the power of people and use the power that people have, including the ability to initiate litigation against their government, in order to make real change and to create inroads.” 

The way Perryman parses it, there are three levers of power for people when a democracy is backsliding: the streets, the ballot and the courts. “We don’t win every fight that we take on. Many days are quite devastating for the people that we have the honor of representing. Holding that truth is challenging,” she told The Cut.

People are being harmed, even terrorized, as a result of Trump’s policies, she told IP, noting that the president has dispatched the military to several cities and threatened certain segments of society with arrest or deportation, essentially driving them underground. It’s relentless and exhausting at every turn. She also told The Cut: “One of the best pieces of advice that I got and repeat all the time is, ‘When you’re tired, it’s important to rest. But do not quit.’”

Meeting the moment while looking ahead

In November 2024, Democracy Forward and 280 other organizations — including many pro-democracy and human rights nonprofits — launched  Democracy 2025, which includes a resource hub that allows the public to keep track of the administration’s actions and how they can respond. The number of litigation, advocacy and policy partners in the coalition has since swelled to more than 650. Democracy funders frequently talk about the need for such collaborations to respond to the current administration. (The group self-describes as nonpartisan. Both the Democracy Forward and Democracy Forward Foundation boards are chaired by attorney Marc Elias, an expert on voting rights and founder of Democracy Docket. Elias served as general counsel for Hillary Clinton’s 2016 presidential campaign.) 

Democracy Forward has goals beyond current regime challenges. The Democracy Forward Foundation is incubating other projects such as Civil Service Strong, focused on efforts to rebuild and reimagine government, and We Hold These Truths, intended to unite ideologically diverse people behind common principles.  “Our organization is called Democracy Forward for a reason. We believe that there is much more to do in this moment than just address the pressing issues,” said Perryman, “this crisis can be a catalyst for real, bold change that people in this country need, and have needed for some time.”

For her part, Perryman said that the current landscape calls for thinking beyond party affiliations. “The vast majority of the American people agree on more than they disagree on, “ she said. “We are now in the midst of a rapidly accelerating autocratic threat that is a new paradigm for this country, even though we have had prior times in our history where we have seen autocratic strategies,” noted Perryman, “whether in the Jim Crow South, whether in the early days of the country, when there was human enslavement and the displacement of Native Americans from their land. But we are now in a place where we are rapidly backsliding. “

The next 200 days are critical, she said. “If you look through history, many people have wondered, what would they have done in the civil rights movement? What would they have done in the abolitionist movement?” she asked. “What would they have done in World War II? We as a generation now get to answer that question, because we are in that moment.”

“We are amidst a massive not only crisis in our democracy, but a crisis in our humanity. There’s no amount of work that you can do to keep people from being harmed by a government that seems so intent on harming people and engaging in cruelty,” Perryman said. “But what we also know about this moment is that we are in it, and the only way out of it is through it, and you have to choose how you are going to get through it.”

The late Paul G. Allen, who amassed billions as a cofounder of Microsoft, devoted a large share of his philanthropy to ambitious scientific, biological and technological goals — like mapping the human brain, understanding the immune system or developing beneficial uses of AI. Though he died in 2018 at age 65, he left behind a well-funded constellation of institutes and funding entities that have made multimillion-dollar commitments to advance research, sometimes partnering with local and national public research organizations like the National Science Foundation. 

The newest entrant to the world of Allen philanthropy is the Fund for Science and Technology (FFST). Jody Allen, Paul’s sister and long a key force in the family’s philanthropy, is board chair of the new foundation. Also on the board is mega-billionaire Steve Ballmer, former Microsoft CEO and cofounder of the Ballmer Group. 

Though the Allen team created the Fund for Science and Technology in 2022, hiring and operational gestation took a few years, and it was only this summer, according to the fund, that it was sufficiently staffed to commence grantmaking. The fund recently announced the first round of grants out of its initial $3.1 billion endowment, committing at least $500 million over the next four years as it commences its mission to focus on Allen’s longtime interests in bioscience, the environment and AI. I spoke recently with Lynda Stuart, FFST’s inaugural president and CEO, to learn more about the fund’s goals and expected grantmaking approaches.

Funding work at the intersection of bioscience, environment and AI

“We have a formal philanthropic mandate to support across these three areas of bioscience, the environment and AI,” Stuart told me. “But I’m actually interested not just in those three pillars, but in where they intersect. You can imagine that there’s important applications of biology and bioengineering in environmental applications, or of AI in accelerating biological design, or in the role of AI in the environment. We don’t see those three pillars as distinct — we see them as overlaps.”

So what kind of grants will FFST make? First of all, pretty sizable ones, typically of millions of dollars each. The recently announced first round of grants, totaling $15 million, is directed not at individual research studies, but to support major institutional programs, reflecting the foundation’s goal to empower institutions to drive progress in broad fields of research. The initial grants were spread among four established research institutions based in Seattle, Paul Allen’s hometown and the base for Allen philanthropy more generally. 

Of the first grantees, $10 million went to the College of the Environment at the University of Washington to support research into climate and environmental science. The remaining $5 million went to three other important Seattle institutions. Benaroya Research Institute got support for its biorepository of biological samples used in research. The Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center received funding to study the immune system’s role in cancer and autoimmune disease and for the development of new cell therapies for cancer. And money went to Seattle Children’s to continue research studies of pediatric cellular immunotherapy treatments for cancer and autoimmune diseases, and to fund new research to create cell therapies for young people. 

While FFST may well make future grants in the Seattle area, it has a global outlook. “We deliberately made those first investments within Seattle because we wanted to acknowledge Paul’s origins within the city and to shine a light on some of the amazing centers of excellence here,” Stuart said. “But we are a global funder, and we’ll fund across the nation and across the world — we’re already looking at grants in other parts of the U.S. and in other countries.” 

Stuart, a physician-scientist, comes to FFST with an international background that seems like good preparation to assess the kinds of cross-discipline solutions the foundation seeks to foster. She earned her undergraduate, medical and Ph.D. degrees in the U.K., and has more than 20 years of experience in research in immunology and global health, including in the translation of research into real-world therapeutics and products. She was executive director of the Institute for Protein Design at the University of Washington School of Medicine, which is focused on AI-enabled protein design. She was also previously vice president of infectious disease at BioNTech, a company that gained wide recognition for its development of COVID-19 vaccine technology. And Stuart also has experience in big bioscience philanthropy: She was deputy director, global health at the Gates Foundation, where she oversaw COVID-19 vaccine development.

FFST aims to use “all the elements of the philanthropic toolkit”

As for its grantmaking approach, FFST investments going forward will not be restricted to the sort of established academic and research institutions it’s supporting with its first round of grants. “What’s clear from my history in philanthropy is that you can have impact in different ways,” Stuart said, adding that FFST is willing to use all the elements of the philanthropic toolkit, as she put it. These include grants to academic organizations, but also program-related investments that can advance FFST’s goals, such as investments in companies and FROs, or focused research organizations: a relatively new type of research entity, often backed by philanthropic dollars, that coordinates large teams to tackle scientific efforts too large for any single institution. 

“If you use all the parts of the toolkit, you can have massive impact,” Stuart said. For now, FFST will seek out and make strategic grants on its own; it’s possible, though less likely, that it will put out RFPs. 

Translating research from the lab to solutions that can benefit the public will also be part of FFST’s work, and will typically involve bringing together different types of organizations and expertise. “Sometimes, an idea needs to go into a commercial entity, and then that commercial entity needs to to take it into the world,” Stuart said. “You actually need different financial mechanisms for each of those steps. If we’re interested in biotechs or startups that are mission aligned, we can use our endowment for investments. But we’ll use any of those philanthropic tools because we want to be able to engage across any type of organization that can have impact.”

As Paul Allen’s philanthropic legacy continues to evolve, and given the multibillion-dollar scale of the fortune he left behind, there are sure to be more major investments in science and technology to come out of FFST and the Allen world. FFST, for example, still has about $2.5 billion beyond the $500 committed so far, and given the Allen family’s long-term approach to science philanthropy, may well continue growing down the line.

Five-time Grammy-nominated singer, songwriter and actor Josh Groban has built a career on his powerful voice and emotive performances, making him an important figure in classical crossover with hits like “You Raise Me Up” and “To Where You Are.”

Alongside his music, he has channeled his success into philanthropy, launching the Find Your Light Foundation in 2004. The organization is dedicated to ensuring that every student has access to high-quality arts education, combining direct support for programs with advocacy and outreach. Over the past two decades, the foundation says it has reached more than a million children across 37 states, funding initiatives that foster creativity, self-expression and resilience. Joining Groban at the foundation is a small staff, as well as an all-family board of directors: his father Jack, mother Lindy and his brother Chris.

Each year, the foundation celebrates its work with the annual Find Your Light Benefit Concert for Arts Education. This year’s event took place on Oct. 8, at the Appel Room in Jazz at Lincoln Center in New York, featuring performances from the likes of Norah Jones and Terence Blanchard, and appearances by Elmo and Ernie from “Sesame Street.” The evening also honored authors Susan Magsamen and Ivy Ross, whose book “Your Brain on Art” explores the connection between creativity and learning. 

The event, as well as the recognition of Magsamen and Ross’ work, was especially resonant given the long-term decline of arts education throughout the U.S. amid chronic underfunding — realities this year’s cuts to government funding for the arts will only exacerbate. Last year’s concert raised $1.4 million to support arts programs nationwide. This year, the event raised a benefit record of $1.5 million. 

Ahead of the benefit, Groban spoke with Inside Philanthropy about the journey of his foundation, the impact of arts education, and why giving young people a creative outlet can be life changing. The following conversation has been edited for clarity and length. 

Could you start by telling me a little bit about some lessons in philanthropy you had growing up? What was your idea of philanthropy before you formally engaged in it?

Sure. Well, for me, I grew up in an incredible family environment and had incredible teachers. This was my first introduction to understanding what education, and especially arts education, meant. My mom was an arts teacher and enjoyed teaching for most of her life, and now we all work on the foundation together, but early on, when I got into performing — and that started very, very young with [producer] David Foster around 16 or 17 — we traveled the country together and performed at different philanthropy galas.

I just started cutting my teeth — we were lending ourselves to these organizations, singing and learning a lot about the art of philanthropy and what it takes, and learning about different causes and how important it is. But then in my work, realizing that having a table of people that wanted to go beyond just listening to the music, that wanted to also give back and also use their enjoyment of my music to be a platform for them to figure out how they can give back, as well. It was hugely inspiring, and then, of course, starting a foundation takes a lot more effort. But I’m very proud and very lucky that for the first half of my life, and the first half of my career, I just got to lend myself to whoever needed it.

It’s been more than two decades since you started Find Your Light. What was going on for you when you started the foundation? And how do you assess everything that’s happened since in terms of impact?

It started with just a huge act of generosity from my fans. They came up to the stage during a concert, sometime around 2004, I think, and they offered me a jumbo check for a lot of money that was raised through auctioning off autographs and all kinds of other things. And they said, “Hey, one day, we’d love to see you start a foundation, and if and when you do, we’d like this to be the first donation.”

So I immediately just kind of started something called the Josh Groban Foundation, which we could turn into a 501c3, we could collect this money as donations, and we could give it to other organizations that needed it. We were an umbrella organization that really gave a little bit to a lot of places: poverty and medicine, homelessness, and also all around the world, different places that we were giving to. But it was unfocused. We didn’t necessarily have a mission statement.

At some point, around 2011, I was asked to testify to Congress about the importance of the arts in our world and in our country. And realized, as I’m sitting there with Linda Ronstadt and Wynton Marsalis, and I’m listening to them give these brilliant speeches, and I’m so honored to give a speech of my own. I said, this is something that feels like a silver bullet for me. This is something that I have a lot of personal experience with. And I think I’d like my focus to be on what not only saved my life, but where I feel I could be best of service with my own personal experience, to those communities in the United States that are always at risk of losing those programs. Careers can ebb and flow. I wanted the foundation to be the foundation regardless of whether I had a hit or not. We’ve been doing it for many years now, and over the decade, we’ve given something like $6 million to hundreds of organizations across the country, reaching over 1 million kids in 37 states. And we’re very proud.

You’ve been navigating this space for quite some time now. What sorts of takeaways do you have, and what do you think philanthropy can do to be a better ally to arts organizations on the ground?

First of all, one of the things we’ve learned is that you have to roll your sleeves up, and you got to do the hard work. That, like anything that’s worthwhile, it takes time. We’re now entering our second major gala performance at Jazz at Lincoln Center after almost 20 years of fundraising and connecting and finding out where the need is. We’ve been listening, reaching out to programs, to principals, students, communities, and finding out what they need and where we can best enrich what we call arts education deserts.

It’s people to people. It’s person to person. It is about really getting in and learning and doing what you can from the ground. The other thing is that philanthropy is hugely collaborative. We are so lucky that we get to join forces with other organizations and other missions that are so similar to ours, and that there is not any competition here. We are all on a superhighway to reach as many kids as we can and we help each other. That is something that, especially coming from the entertainment industry that can be very hyper-competitive, philanthropy is the opposite of that, and it has been a really wonderful thing to see.

As far as the impact, we’ve never felt more of a call to action than we feel right this minute. I know we say that every year. But it truly is more important than ever. With the government cuts, with the arts leaving our schools at a critical time, it’s more important than ever that we really put across two things of vital importance: One is that the math is on our side about how the arts enriches young people’s minds, regardless of if they want to go into this professionally. But also, two, it’s the antidote to division and to divisiveness. 

Do you have a particular story or anecdote of someone you’ve impacted, whether an organization or a young kid?

Just recently, we felt a call to action during the L.A. fires, and there were programs that we were able to directly impact, like the Last Repair Shop, which was the subject of an amazing documentary. The Music Rising Disaster Relief Fund was another one, making sure that those schools that were affected by the fires were able to get funding they need to restock and be able to continue those programs. Similarly, during COVID, we really felt like we had to get creative.

On a more person-to-person scale, there was a young girl that I met at a place called [Chalmers STEAM Elementary School-Chicago]. The school is part of a program that we support called Turnaround Arts, which was implemented by Michelle Obama and is about taking schools that are in need of renovation in every sense of the word and giving students there a robust arts education. There was a little girl that was really precocious. But she was inches away from being expelled because she had behavioral problems. She was a back-row kind of kid. But all of a sudden — and it sounds woo woo — she gets a musical in her hand, she gets the opportunity to be in “Annie,” and she’s using the preciousness and energy and she realizes there’s an outlet for this called music and acting and singing.

I have a similar story where I was about to flunk out of school. I had ADD and was having a hard time socially, but I had that teacher who unblocked the music room, allowed me to come home with a more confident and assured sense of self. 

You have this new project coming out, “Hidden Gems.” Can you tell me about that?

Sure. I released a compilation album called “Gems” a few months ago that was essentially a playlist of some of the songs that meant the most to me and meant the most to my fans, and put them all in one place after 25 years, which was a lot of fun to kind of curate. And we realized that, over the course of recording hundreds of songs, you record stuff that is for a bonus edition, for a Hallmark thing or a Target thing. You realize that there was this really good stuff that just came out for a small amount of time and never made it to streaming. So we’re releasing “Hidden Gems” in November.

What’s it like engaging in philanthropy with your family?

It’s the most meaningful thing I’ve been able to do in my life, frankly, embarking on this journey with my brother, my mom and my dad. My brother, who’s a filmmaker, is able to also tell stories about these schools. We’re a small organization lucky to be able to do big things. We have two employees. The goal, of course, is to keep expanding. But our size has also been our strength, because our overhead is so small. So when we’re able to raise millions of dollars, the vast, vast majority of that goes straight into the hands of those that are asking for it every year. So that’s been fun. 

Looking ahead, what are some of your biggest hopes for the foundation going forward?

Well, as I said, we’d love to keep growing and keep saying yes to grantees. We’ve been so lucky that we have angel donors. We have people who really make sure that whenever we do an event, we make every dollar go right to the foundation. They underwrite every event we do. People like Fran and Paul Turner [arts patrons and Find Your Light Foundation donors], and Cindi and Curtis Priem [a tech couple who are longtime donors and event chairs]. They’re amazing. So continuing to make friends that understand our mission is important.

And then I’d also say — especially given the state of the world right now — and how you see in a number of different countries, where governments are battling each other while the people suffer, to be able to take this kind of work globally and to be able to connect students internationally to each other through the power of the arts is something that is a personal goal of mine that I think would be really, really a wonderful thing. There is more dehumanizing going on in the world than I’ve seen in my lifetime, and we need a humanizer. We need the arts to connect kids to other kids.