Who Is the Mission Actually For?

The Military Community Nonprofit Industrial Complex

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Day 2: Who Is the Mission Actually For?

Every nonprofit has a mission.

Usually, it's right there on the website.

Support veterans.

Empower military families.

Serve survivors.

Assist caregivers.

End veteran homelessness.

Improve mental health.

Advocate for better benefits.

Connect military families with resources.

Wonderful.

But there is another mission every nonprofit eventually develops, whether anyone writes it down or not:

Keep the organization alive.

Raise enough money.

Pay the staff.

Keep the programs running.

Retain donors.

Maintain grants.

Protect relationships.

Recruit volunteers.

Keep members engaged.

Preserve the organization's reputation.

Make sure there is enough money in the bank to open the doors next year.

None of that is inherently bad.

In fact, most of it is necessary.

An organization that doesn't survive can't help anybody.

But there is an important question every nonprofit should periodically ask itself:

Are we preserving the organization so we can accomplish the mission, or has preserving the organization become the mission?

There is a difference.

Organizations Have to Survive

Let's start with reality.

Mission statements don't pay electric bills.

Good intentions don't cover payroll.

Passion doesn't buy insurance.

And apparently landlords remain stubbornly unwilling to accept “but we really care about veterans” as payment.

Organizations need money.

They need donors.

They need grants.

They need volunteers.

They need staff.

They need infrastructure.

They need leadership.

They need partnerships.

They need credibility.

And yes, they need relationships with people who can help them accomplish their mission.

Responsible organizations should think about sustainability.

They should plan for leadership transitions.

They should diversify funding.

They should invest in staff.

They should evaluate risk.

They should protect their reputation.

They should think five years ahead instead of desperately trying to survive until Friday.

That isn't greed.

That's responsible management.

Growth Can Be Good

There is also nothing inherently wrong with a nonprofit growing.

If an organization helps 500 people and develops the capacity to help 5,000, that's wonderful.

If hiring professional staff allows volunteers to accomplish more, excellent.

If a national expansion brings services to communities that previously had none, good.

If increased fundraising allows an organization to build better programs, conduct research, hire experts, improve technology, or expand advocacy, that can dramatically increase its impact.

Small is not automatically virtuous.

Neither is large automatically corrupt.

The question isn't whether an organization grew.

The question is:

What grew with it?

Did impact grow?

Did services improve?

Did more people receive help?

Did expertise increase?

Did advocacy become more effective?

Or did the organization simply become better at sustaining the organization?

Those are very different kinds of growth.

Mission Creep Happens

Organizations evolve.

Sometimes they should.

The needs of the military community change.

Wars end.

New conflicts begin.

Veterans age.

Families change.

Technology changes.

Federal benefits change.

New research identifies previously overlooked problems.

An organization that refuses to evolve can become irrelevant.

But there is also something called mission creep.

An organization starts with a specific purpose.

Then it adds another program.

And another.

And another.

A grant becomes available for something vaguely related to the original mission.

Well, we could do that.

A corporate sponsor wants to fund another initiative.

Sure, why not?

A new program photographs well.

Let's add it.

Five years later, the organization is doing fourteen things, and nobody is entirely sure which one is the mission anymore.

Expansion isn't automatically mission creep.

But organizations should occasionally ask:

If this program didn't attract funding, would we still believe it was important enough to do?

That can be an uncomfortable question.

Which is probably why it's useful.

Fund-able Does Not Always Mean Necessary

Nonprofits operate in a funding environment.

Donors have priorities.

Foundations have priorities.

Corporations have priorities.

Government grants have very specific priorities.

Sometimes the problem the community desperately needs solved is not the problem anyone particularly wants to fund.

Meanwhile, another issue may have grant money raining from the sky.

That creates pressure.

Do you pursue funding for something adjacent to your mission because the money is available?

Maybe.

Sometimes that funding allows an organization to expand responsibly and help more people.

But chasing money can also slowly reshape an organization.

Instead of:

“What does our community need?”

the question becomes:

“What can we get funded?”

Those questions occasionally produce the same answer.

When they don't, leadership should notice.

Relationships Are Necessary

Military nonprofits often depend heavily on relationships.

Relationships with government agencies.

Relationships with congressional offices.

Relationships with donors.

Relationships with corporations.

Relationships with other nonprofits.

Relationships with military installations.

Relationships with community leaders.

Relationships with the people they serve.

Good relationships can produce extraordinary results.

A congressional staffer who trusts an organization may call when legislation is being developed.

An agency may ask for feedback before implementing a policy.

A corporate partner may fund a program serving thousands of families.

Another nonprofit may fill a service gap your organization cannot.

Relationships create access.

Access creates opportunity.

That is good advocacy.

But relationships become dangerous when protecting the relationship becomes more important than telling the truth.

When Access Becomes a Leash

Suppose an organization has spent years developing a strong relationship with a congressional office.

Then that office introduces legislation affecting the organization's community.

Most of the bill is good.

One provision isn't.

Now the organization has a choice.

Raise the concern?

Ask for an amendment?

Publicly oppose the problematic provision?

Or stay quiet because criticizing the bill could damage the relationship?

There is no universal answer.

Sometimes quiet negotiation is strategically smarter than public confrontation.

Good advocates understand that not every disagreement needs a press release and a flamethrower.

But eventually there is a line.

If an organization repeatedly refuses to challenge harmful policy because it might lose access, then access is no longer serving the mission.

The mission is serving the access.

A seat at the table is useful.

But only if you're willing to speak while sitting in it.

Otherwise, congratulations on the chair.

Reputation Matters, But So Does Honesty

Nonprofits depend heavily on trust.

Reputation matters.

An organization accused of financial misconduct, mistreating clients, providing inaccurate information, or behaving unethically can lose donors, volunteers, partnerships, and credibility very quickly.

So yes, organizations should protect their reputations.

But there are two ways to do that.

The first is:

Behave in ways worthy of a good reputation.

The second is:

Make sure nobody talks about the bad stuff.

Those are not the same strategy.

Good organizations respond to legitimate criticism by examining it.

Is it accurate?

Did something go wrong?

Does a policy need to change?

Was someone treated poorly?

Did we publish incorrect information?

Can we fix it?

Organizations lose trust when they make mistakes.

They lose considerably more when people discover leadership knew about the problem and chose reputation management over correction.

Sometimes the best public-relations strategy is remarkably complicated:

Admit you screwed up and fix it.

Revolutionary, I know.

Programs Can Outlive Their Usefulness

Starting a program is exciting.

Ending one is considerably harder.

Programs develop constituencies.

Staff may be assigned to them.

Volunteers become attached to them.

Donors recognize them.

Organizations build marketing around them.

Maybe the program once filled an important need.

But what happens when that need changes?

Or another organization provides the service better?

Or government benefits expand?

Or participation collapses?

Or data shows the program isn't producing meaningful results?

A mission-driven organization should be willing to ask whether resources would accomplish more somewhere else.

That doesn't mean killing programs because they aren't flashy.

Some incredibly valuable services will never produce impressive numbers.

But “we have always done this” is not an outcome measurement.

Sometimes responsible stewardship means expanding a program.

Sometimes it means redesigning it.

Sometimes it means partnering with someone who does it better.

And sometimes it means shutting it down.

Collaboration Can Feel Threatening

This is another place where institutional survival can collide with mission.

Imagine two nonprofits addressing the same problem.

Organization A has expertise.

Organization B has infrastructure.

Together, they could probably solve the problem better.

Sounds easy.

Until someone asks:

Whose logo goes first?

Who gets the grant?

Who gets the media attention?

Who gets credit?

Who owns the donor relationship?

Who gets invited to testify?

Who gets the congressional meeting?

Suddenly we're negotiating custody of the mission.

Competition isn't always bad.

Multiple organizations working on similar problems can create innovation, offer people choices, and prevent one organization from controlling an entire field.

But when organizations refuse beneficial collaboration because someone else might receive credit, the community loses.

The people needing help should not become collateral damage in a nonprofit turf war.

We'll talk much more about that later this week.

The Community Is Not a Customer Acquisition Strategy

There is another subtle shift organizations should watch for.

People can slowly become numbers.

Veterans served.

Survivors reached.

Caregivers enrolled.

Members recruited.

Email subscribers acquired.

Advocacy actions completed.

Social-media impressions.

Those metrics can be useful.

Organizations need data to evaluate programs and demonstrate impact to donors.

But the people behind those numbers are not inventory.

A veteran is not valuable because they increase your membership count.

A survivor is not valuable because their story makes a compelling fundraising video.

A caregiver is not valuable because their hardship strengthens a grant application.

Their experiences may help educate the public and inspire change.

But organizations should never forget:

The story belongs to the person.

The mission exists because of the people.

The people do not exist to sustain the mission.

Leadership Has to Ask Hard Questions

Strong nonprofit leadership isn't just about growing revenue.

It requires occasionally asking questions nobody particularly wants to answer.

Why are we still doing this?

Who actually benefits?

Are we duplicating someone else's work?

Could another organization do this better?

Are we measuring the right things?

Are our volunteers being respected?

Are staff burning out?

Are we protecting a relationship we should be challenging?

Are we chasing funding instead of need?

Are we afraid to admit a program isn't working?

Have we become more interested in our organization's influence than the outcome we're trying to achieve?

And the big one:

If our organization disappeared tomorrow, what would the community actually lose?

Not the employees.

Not the logo.

Not the social-media account.

Not the annual gala.

What would the community lose?

The answer should be clear.

Donors and Volunteers Can Ask Too

Leadership shouldn't be the only people asking these questions.

Donors can ask.

Volunteers can ask.

Members can ask.

The people receiving services can ask.

Advocates can ask.

That doesn't mean everyone outside the organization is entitled to every internal document or every operational detail.

Organizations need appropriate boundaries.

But reasonable questions about mission, programs, impact, finances, governance, and outcomes should not be treated as acts of hostility.

If asking:

“How does this advance the mission?”

causes panic, we may have found something worth discussing.

Organizational Survival and Mission Can Coexist

None of this requires nonprofits to martyr themselves.

An organization does not have to spend every dollar immediately.

It doesn't have to accept every client.

It doesn't have to pursue every issue.

It doesn't have to publicly attack every bad policy.

It doesn't have to partner with everyone who asks.

It doesn't have to operate without professional staff.

And it certainly doesn't have to apologize for wanting to exist ten years from now.

Sustainability is good.

Growth can be good.

Professionalization can be good.

Strong fundraising can be good.

Influence can be good.

Relationships can be good.

Brand recognition can be good.

All of those things can make an organization dramatically more effective.

As long as they remain tools for accomplishing the mission.

The trouble starts when the tools become the objective.

Follow the Direction of the Benefit

There is a simple way to think about this.

When evaluating an organizational decision, ask:

Who ultimately benefits?

If stronger fundraising allows the organization to help more people, good.

If hiring additional staff reduces wait times, good.

If maintaining a congressional relationship allows better policy to move, good.

If investing in technology makes services easier to access, good.

If building financial reserves keeps programs operating during a downturn, good.

Organizational strength and community benefit are not opposites.

But if decisions repeatedly protect revenue, relationships, reputation, programs, or institutional influence while the people being served receive little benefit, pay attention.

One questionable decision proves very little.

A pattern tells you much more.

The Organization Is the Vehicle

A nonprofit is a vehicle.

The mission is the destination.

Money is fuel.

Staff and volunteers keep the thing moving.

Relationships help navigate the road.

Leadership is supposed to steer.

And occasionally somebody needs to check whether we're still headed where we said we were going.

Because organizations can become incredibly good at moving while forgetting where they were supposed to go.

Lots of meetings.

Lots of fundraising.

Lots of conferences.

Lots of emails.

Lots of partnerships.

Lots of strategic plans.

Lots of very impressive PowerPoints.

Movement everywhere.

But are we getting closer to the mission?

That's the question.

Good, Bad, and Ugly

The good: Sustainable organizations can serve people for decades, develop expertise, build trusted relationships, employ talented professionals, support volunteers, and create lasting change.

The bad: Organizations can drift toward whatever attracts funding, attention, access, or growth while gradually losing focus on their original purpose.

The ugly: Institutional survival can become so important that protecting the organization, its relationships, its reputation, or its territory becomes more important than protecting the people it claims to serve.

Most organizations will experience some version of all three at different times.

The goal isn't perfection.

The goal is periodically checking the compass.

So, Who Is the Mission Actually For?

There is nothing wrong with an organization wanting to survive.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to grow.

There is nothing wrong with raising money.

There is nothing wrong with building influence.

There is nothing wrong with cultivating relationships.

There is nothing wrong with protecting a good reputation.

There is nothing wrong with hiring professional staff and paying them appropriately.

Do all of it.

Build strong organizations.

Build organizations capable of surviving leadership changes, recessions, political shifts, funding losses, and whatever fresh chaos tomorrow decides to bring.

But remember why the organization needed to survive in the first place.

Not for the logo.

Not for the executive titles.

Not for the gala.

Not for the annual report.

Not for the congressional photo.

Not for the social-media following.

Not even for the organization itself.

The organization exists to serve the mission.

And the mission exists to serve people.

When those priorities get reversed, it may be time to ask some uncomfortable questions.

Preferably before somebody orders another batch of branded tote bags.