The impossibility of neutrality

We are in 2026 and still debating whether foundations should be neutral. But what does neutrality mean, and where does it come from? Historically, neutrality emerged as a legal concept between states after the Peace of Westphalia in 1648. It meant staying out of conflict and avoiding sides, a survival tool later formalised by countries such as Switzerland.

After the Second World War, its meaning shifted. In situations of injustice, neutrality came to be seen not as innocence but as acquiescence, captured in Elie Wiesel’s warning that neutrality helps the oppressor, or in Hannah Arendt’s critique of the Nazi-fascist executors for not taking a moral position and abdicating responsibility. During the Cold War, non-alignment showed that refusing sides was never apolitical, only a different political position. Feminist, decolonial and social justice perspectives pushed this further: in unequal systems there is no neutral ground. Inaction sustains the status quo, and silence becomes part of power.

In 2008, Emmet Carson – in ‘The Myth of Community Foundation Neutrality and the Case for Social Justice‘ – dismantled neutrality as a myth that lets foundations abdicate responsibility to use power to create better outcomes in their communities, particularly unpopular ones, and to avoid becoming targets of powerful interests or conflict with government. Conversely, when foundations choose topics, set priorities, define strategies and give grants, they invalidate claims of neutrality and issue policy positions on their role in relation to government and business, and how they are perceived by both.

Civil space under attack

Across Europe, civic space is being reshaped through policy, regulation and public narratives by far-right parties. In Bulgaria, debates on lobbying regulation raised concerns that standard advocacy could be classified as lobbying, affecting how organisations are perceived and funded. This sits alongside recurring “foreign agents” narratives framing civic engagement as externally driven rather than legitimate democratic participation.

There are many such examples, and they reflect a broader European pattern: the space for civil society to engage, advocate and partner is being reshaped, raising questions for philanthropy about how to support its partners and uphold an enabling, pluralistic civic space.

Where money brings influence

As recently explained, philanthropic redistribution cannot be limited to wealth but must extend to its effects on power and influence. Not only financial capital, but also actions and practices that foster a fairer distribution of power and ensure access to the representation of shared public concerns, in order to correct policies that favour certain classes.

On the other side, Mathias Corvinus Collegium, the Orbán-linked institution behind MCC Brussels, has received more than €1.3 billion in Hungarian state assets and has used its Brussels arm to intervene in debates on migration, democracy and climate, including calls to “ditch the net zero madness” and build “a Europe unshackled from environmentalism”.

Meanwhile, corporate lobbying and far-right narratives increasingly shape environmental and climate debates. Research points to forms of corporate capture where industrial and fossil fuel interests influence regulation, weaken sustainability frameworks and frame climate action as harmful or divisive. These dynamics of European deregulation often align with pressure on policies like the European Green Deal that, alongside the geopolitical context, has shifted priorities towards defence and arms.

By contrast, philanthropic efforts to safeguard democracy operate with modest resources. In 2025, Civitates provided around €4.3 million in grants to support civic space, media pluralism and democratic participation.

This reflects a wider pattern. Recent Philea research shows that 36 philanthropic organisations across 12 countries allocated just over €72 million to journalism and media, while environmental grantmaking by 169 foundations reached around €2.2 billion in 2024.

The imbalance is huge: even as philanthropy grows and coordinates, resources for independent media, civic space and democratic participation remain limited compared to sustained investments pushing for regressive policy agendas and public narratives.

Collective philanthropy as a response

Collective philanthropy can act as a counterweight. Civitates was cited as a model of pooled funding supporting civic space and independent media across Europe. F20 brings together around 80 foundations to influence the G20 agenda on climate and development. Within Philea, the Democracy Network enables funders to exchange intelligence, align strategy and reduce isolation when working in contested areas. Collective action also helps share risk. In politically sensitive contexts, it spreads reputational, legal and strategic exposure across a broader coalition.

In this sense, philanthropy can act as a countervailing force, ensuring a diverse set of voices, interests and perspectives as a counterweight to the vision shaped by plutocratic elites.

A systems approach to climate and democracy

What philanthropy funds and how it funds it is as important as how much money goes to each cause. Addressing the relationship between climate and democracy can be strategic. Climate policy shapes energy, food systems, land use, mobility and public investment. Democratic participation determines whether these transitions are legitimate and durable.

Where participation is broad, policies are more grounded. Where civic space shrinks, policy becomes easier to distort or delay. Funders working on climate increasingly engage with democracy, rights and participation, whether intentionally or not. Climate and democracy cannot be treated as separate silos.

This approach was reflected in examples such as the Bosch Foundation, linking climate transition with inequality, participation and democratic resilience rather than treating them separately. In this view, philanthropy should adopt an intersectional lens to navigate complexity instead of avoiding it and focusing only on common layers of the current polycrisis.

Investments as a strategic choice

A foundation’s impact is shaped not only by grants but also by its assets. Investment strategies are political choices. Funding climate action while investing in extractive systems undermines credibility.

A holistic approach to philanthropy would require that, before giving, there is consistency with principles of fairness, equality and non-exploitation in how wealth is generated. The public interest should guide not only investment strategies, but also income generation and the accumulation of wealth.

The same applies to grantmaking. Every grant, refusal, compliance rule and risk calculation has political implications. Philanthropic commitments lie not only in public statements but in how money moves, who it reaches and under what conditions.

Enabling conditions for citizen engagement

Several examples showed how philanthropy can strengthen participation. One Swiss foundation supports initiatives from the UN Declaration on the Rights of Peasants and Other People Working in Rural Areas, connecting grassroots mobilisation to EU decision-making.

European AI & Society Fund funds organisations working on AI accountability and digital rights, enabling civil society to engage with regulation. Grantees include digital rights groups and labour organising around platform work.

EFSAF initiatives support coalition-building, advocacy and mobilisation in food and agricultural policy, including engagement with the Common Agricultural Policy.

Across these examples, philanthropy’s role is less about directing policy and more about enabling participation, accountability and collective voice.

Widening the space

There is also a broader understanding of civil society. It includes not only CSOs but grassroots groups, informal networks and protest movements, activists often not captured by donors’ radar but embodying participation in the common good.

Examples include support for Extinction Rebellion in Finland and litigation defending peaceful protest. These actors often fall outside traditional funding models and face the greatest pressure. Responding to current challenges means adapting funding structures to reach them.

Trust as infrastructure

Trust is itself a form of infrastructure. Long-term, flexible funding allows organisations to adapt when public funding disappears or legal status changes.

Speakers described partners losing charitable status, facing attacks or scrutiny. In such contexts, solidarity is not enough. Foundations need to remain present when risk rises or organisations become politically inconvenient. Trust-based philanthropy becomes essential to democratic resilience.

You can’t be neutral on a moving train

Foundations are already engaging with democracy support and testing different ways of acting through partnerships and practice. Philanthropy does not need to behave like a traditional political actor, it has other tools: it can provide long-term funding, convene diverse actors, support experimentation, absorb risk and strengthen the civic infrastructure on which participation depends. Its role is enabling others to engage, advocate and be heard.

In a changing environment, this means staying engaged, adaptive and collaborative. Progress will come through multiple strategies at once: building alliances, sharing knowledge, backing those under pressure and creating the conditions for others to act. The greater risk is not doing too much but becoming paralysed and doing nothing. When everything around us is shifting, choosing not to move is still a form of movement, just not one we control.

“The trouble is that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. And once you’ve seen it, keeping quiet becomes as political an act as speaking out.” — Arundhati Roy