Values Before Strategy

Most people think philanthropy starts with choosing where to give money. But after years working in nonprofits, business, and advising donors, I’ve come to believe it starts with a clearer question: what values do you want your wealth to express?

Before you decide where to give, spend some time with a few questions:

The very skills that enable someone to build significant wealth—building, optimizing, managing—are incredible assets. But when that same management framework is applied directly to social change, it can unintentionally slide into what I call grasping: the urge to direct decisions, follow every thread, and measure every outcome. Communities don’t work that way. Neither do healthy nonprofit ecosystems.

Yet, values-based philanthropy is highly strategic and risk-mitigating. It requires significant upfront work and due diligence to find blind spots in service delivery and operating costs. And there’s a bridge between KPIs and grant reports; it’s data tracking that makes sense within the context of the mission of the organization being philanthropically supported. It’s often overlooked but can easily be built out; the issue is evaluation is often not funded.

Giving without grasping doesn’t mean you care less or become passive. It means staying deeply committed to your values while becoming less attached to controlling exactly how those values are expressed by the people doing the work. One of the best ways to build trust with grantees is to listen before you or anyone leads. Have open conversations with a clear sense of what you're hoping to learn. Visit organizations and see their work firsthand. Ask thoughtful questions. Stay curious longer than feels necessary. This is what early due diligence looks like when funding something with long-term intent. Show up as another human being, bringing your resources, curiosity, and accountability while trusting that the people closest to the work know things you simply cannot know from the outside.

Money changes every relationship it touches. If you're perceived as having wealth, the room changes before you've said a word. That's simply part of philanthropy. Pretending the power dynamic doesn't exist usually makes things more awkward, not less. Acknowledging it gives everyone a better chance of having an honest relationship.

One of the simplest examples is what I call the "ambush lunch."

You're invited to lunch to get acquainted, exchange ideas, or offer advice. The conversation is enjoyable. Then the check arrives and, without anyone saying a word, it's assumed you'll pay.

The cost of lunch isn't really the point. The uncomfortable part is realizing that your agency quietly disappeared somewhere between sitting down and the check. No one asked whether you'd like to treat. No one paused to consider that they extended the invitation. The expectation simply appeared. Moments like this can leave you wondering whether people are interested in you or simply interested in your money.

I don't think this usually comes from bad intentions. More often, it comes from habit. Or urgency. Or years of operating in environments where resources are scarce and every opportunity to secure funding feels important. None of that makes the interaction feel good, but understanding its origins helps keep it in perspective. It's a relationship breakdown, not a personal failure, and you don't have to carry it.

I've found that honesty almost always works better than guessing what everyone else expects. If you're there to learn, say so. If you’re there only to share your experience and offer advice, say that. If you're exploring an organization because you're considering a gift, say that too. If you genuinely don't know whether you'll become involved, that's perfectly fine. Tell people you'll take some time to think about it and let them know when they can expect to hear from you.

Clear expectations create room for trust. From there, the conversation shifts. The question isn't whether money changes the room. It does. The more interesting question is what you choose to do with the influence, agency, and opportunities your wealth creates.

Financial capital is powerful, but it's only one form of capital. Communities carry history. Nonprofit leaders understand how the work actually gets done. People with lived experience know things no report, dashboard, or site visit can fully capture.

When you begin to see your wealth as an invitation to participate rather than an obligation to direct or pay for everything, something changes. You no longer have to carry the weight of having all the answers. You no longer have to pay for everything. You can simply become another person at the table who brings something valuable, while recognizing that everyone else does too.

Legal, tax, and investment decisions are essential to good philanthropy. They are not the whole of it. Legal and financial structures create the framework. Philanthropy gives that framework purpose.

Your attorney brings expertise in legal structures. Your CPA helps you understand the tax implications of your decisions. Your investment advisor focuses on preserving and growing your assets. Their work is essential, and they need to be part of the team helping to manage your wealth.

A philanthropic advisor helps you hold all of these moving pieces together: your values, your family dynamics, your advisory team, the realities of nonprofit work, and the communities you hope to support. None of those exist in isolation, and neither should your giving.

The questions that determine whether your philanthropic generosity achieves its purpose are often systemic and relational:

When philanthropy misses the mark, it’s rarely because of a compliance issue. More often, it’s because no one is paying attention to the relationships between donor intent, family dynamics, nonprofit capacity, and the nuances of human communities.

The work isn't to replace the expertise already around the table. It's to help those perspectives work together in service of your values. The focus is alignment: helping relationships, learning, trust, and resources reinforce one another rather than work at cross-purposes. The goal becomes strengthening organizations rather than unintentionally creating more work, more complexity, or more dependence. Sometimes that means encouraging deeper involvement. Sometimes it means stepping back. Sometimes it means your legal, financial, and philanthropic advisors work together so your giving reflects not only what you have, but what you value. To me, this is the practical expression of values-based philanthropy.

Real stewardship should grow and change. If your giving looks exactly the same ten years from now, I hope it isn’t because you’ve remained perfectly consistent. I hope it’s because your values have become clearer while your understanding has become deeper. Communities change. Families change. You change. Good stewardship makes room for that.

When you build trust and relationships with people who share your values, you become more open to learning. You begin asking different questions. Instead of asking, What should I build? you begin asking, Who is already living these values, and how can I support them?

That shift from directing to discovering is where meaningful, long-term philanthropy begins. It takes more time. It requires more listening. It is built on relationships rather than transactions. And in my experience, it’s the approach most likely to endure.

Strategies will change. Relationships will evolve. Communities will teach you. Hold your values firmly enough to let all of that happen.