By Jee-hyea Grace Arkoi
Context
The analysis that follows draws on two case studies: one from Liberia, examining a national, membership-based institution rooted in community forest governance, and another from Ghana, focusing on a smaller advocacy organisation navigating institutional sustainability within the environmental sector. The institutions featured in this article have been deliberately anonymised to shift attention away from organisational branding, attribution, or performance assessment, and instead foreground the practices, processes, and contextual dynamics that shape locally-led institutional change. Discussions on African philanthropy often concentrate on exemplary organisations or individual leaders, inadvertently turning complex systemic realities into isolated success stories. This piece intentionally resists that tendency.
By masking institutional identities, the analysis invites readers to engage with recurring patterns, tensions, and decision-making processes across different contexts, rather than with the reputations of particular entities. Drawing on formal organisational documents — including implementation plans, governance records, and narrative reports — and first-hand experience with the organisations, the article does not seek to evaluate effectiveness or draw normative conclusions. Instead, it documents how locally-led practices unfold in real organisational settings within the Global South, with all their constraints, trade-offs, and limitations.
Narrative
In mid 2025, nearly sixty representatives of forest-dependent communities travelled long distances to attend an annual governance meeting convened by a national civic institution. Some arrived with handwritten financial statements. Others carried updates on conservation activities, unresolved disputes, and requests for greater representation. Over several days, they reviewed budgets, questioned leadership decisions, debated governance reforms, and passed resolutions that would shape the institution’s direction for the next year.
Around the same time, in another West African setting, a small advocacy organisation faced a different urgency. Its strategic plan had expired, its office administration depended on fragile project funding, and staff were using personal phones and laptops to document field work. Without intervention, core organisational functions risked grinding to a halt – not because the mission had failed, but because internal systems could no longer carry the weight of external expectations.
These two contexts are rarely treated together in discussions about African philanthropy. Yet they illuminate the same question from different angles: what does it look like when power is not merely spoken about, but exercised through local systems?
When Governance Is the Work
In the first case, the institution’s strength lay in its structure. It was a membership-based body representing dozens of local forest management entities, with a constitution that placed ultimate authority in a General Assembly of members. For over ten years, that authority existed more on paper than in practice. Meetings were irregular. Communication across regions was inconsistent. There was no functioning website. Monitoring of member activities happened sporadically, constrained by limited resources.
The shift did not begin with a new programme or thematic intervention. It began with enabling the institution to do what it was already mandated to do: convene its members, hold leadership accountable, document decisions, and follow through.
The institution held executive meetings that focused not on donor compliance but on translating member resolutions into action. The Assembly became more than a formal requirement. Members would review partner contributions, assess forest revenues, discuss conservation performance, and openly debate the organisation’s credibility and direction.
One resolution stood out. Members called for the establishment of a governance board to strengthen oversight and strategic guidance. This was not prompted by a donor template. It emerged from collective reflection on gaps in accountability and long-term leadership. Subsequent executive meetings were devoted to defining what such a board should look like, what role it would play, and how it could be constituted without undermining member authority.
These discussions were slow, detailed, and sometimes unresolved. They reflected the realities of democratic governance rather than the efficiency of project cycles. Yet they marked a shift in how implementation was understood. Meetings were no longer treated as administrative costs; they became the primary spaces where decisions were made, contested, and legitimised.
Alongside these governance processes, the institution invested in basic operational capacity: office rent to ensure continuity, equipment to support documentation, and the development of a public website to improve transparency and visibility. By early 2026, the website was nearing completion, signalling a move toward more consistent information sharing with members and external stakeholders.
None of these activities produced immediate, headline-grabbing outcomes. What they produced instead was something more durable: functioning internal systems that allowed community representatives to exercise authority rather than merely attend projects.
When Survival Precedes Scale
The second case unfolded differently. The organisation involved was younger, smaller, and not membership-based. Its legitimacy came not from a General Assembly, but from over six years of grassroots advocacy work in land rights, agriculture, and natural resource governance. Yet its internal systems were under strain.
The organisation faced a convergence of risks. Its strategic plan had run its course. Core administrative salaries depended on a single project that had ended, leaving gaps between funding cycles. Communication capacity was limited, with staff relying on personal devices to capture and report on field activities. Resource mobilisation efforts were largely opportunistic rather than strategic.
What triggered change was not external pressure to grow, but internal recognition of fragility. The organisation conducted a self-assessment across its governance, leadership, finance, and working practices. This assessment shaped a focused set of priorities: stabilise administrative functions, renew strategic direction, strengthen board governance, and invest in basic communication tools.
Implementation unfolded quietly. Same as the first case study, the organisation was fortunate to have received an institutional strengthening flexible sub-grant. Through this, they were able to provide a salary that ensured that office administration and financial oversight were maintained during a period of funding uncertainty. Laptops and a digital camera were also procured, replacing improvised arrangements that had constrained documentation and reporting. Most significantly, the organisation’s board approved and actively participated in developing a new five-year strategic plan.
Their strategic planning process was not treated as a compliance exercise. Board members and staff engaged with external consultants, debated organisational identity, reflected on past limitations, and articulated long-term ambitions. The resulting plan was described as capturing the organisation’s own aspirations – not those of funders or intermediaries.
Beyond the document itself, the process generated important internal shifts. Staff reported a clearer understanding of strategic partnerships, revenue diversification, and the importance of internal systems. The organisation began to treat planning, governance tools, and documentation as central to impact, rather than secondary to field activities.
In this case, locally-led practice did not manifest through community assemblies or public resolutions. It showed up in quieter decisions: prioritising institutional survival, asserting board authority over strategic direction, and using flexible funding to stabilise core operations before pursuing expansion.
What Power Looks Like in Practice
Taken together, these cases unsettle a common assumption in philanthropy: that power shifts are primarily about rhetoric, representation, or thematic focus. In both contexts, power was reshaped through systems.
In the membership-based institution, power was exercised when members reviewed budgets, challenged leadership, and resolved to reform governance structures. Philanthropic support mattered because it enabled those processes to occur regularly and meaningfully, rather than intermittently and symbolically.
In the smaller organisation, power was exercised when staff and board members decided how resources should be allocated to protect continuity, when strategic direction should be reset, and how the organisation would position itself for sustainability. Flexibility in funding allowed those decisions to take precedence over predetermined outputs.
Both cases also reveal the costs of locally-led practice that are rarely acknowledged. Meetings were difficult to convene. Travel and logistics constrained participation. Strategic processes were time-intensive. Progress was uneven, with some planned activities delayed or partially implemented. In some cases, capacities needed to be strengthened. Yet these frictions were not signs of failure. They were signs of institutions functioning in real contexts, negotiating priorities internally rather than performing coherence for external audiences. You can refer to one of my previous articles Reimagining Power in Development: Reflections on The INGO Problem and the Impact of Shifting Power to Local CSOs, which explores the impacts of shifting power to local actors.
Moving Beyond Rhetoric
If these cases point to any shared lesson, it is not that locally-led practice guarantees success or efficiency. It is that meaningful change in African civil society institutions depends on whether philanthropic support engages with existing governance systems – or sidesteps them.
In both settings, funding targeted what are often dismissed as overheads: salaries, rent, meetings, planning, and equipment. These investments did not dilute impact. They re-anchored it. They allowed local actors to make decisions that aligned with their mandates, rhythms, and constraints, rather than constantly adjusting to externally driven expectations.
The future of African philanthropy, as suggested by these experiences, will not be determined by how convincingly power shifts are articulated. It will be shaped by quieter choices: whether institutions are trusted to diagnose their own weaknesses, whether time is allowed for internal negotiation, and whether stability is recognised as a legitimate outcome rather than a lack of ambition.
In the end, reframing power means paying attention to where authority already sits – and resourcing the systems that allow it to be exercised responsibly, collectively, and over time. I believe that the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) are more likely to have lasting impact when programmes or initiatives are influenced and led by local actors, as this would also instill a strong sense of ownership among them. Read my article Power in Local Hands: The Pathway to Sustainable Development which speaks better to this.