Skip to main content

Something must be done - do charities have a collective responsibility for under-performing charities?

This article first appeared in New Philanthropy Capital’s Giving Insights newsletter, summer 2009


Chief executives from the charity sector are gathering for the spring conference. They discuss their varying responses to the recession, possibilities of new business, recent pronouncements from key government Ministers - and the abject performance of organisation X. When will it end, they sigh? Surely they can’t go on providing such abysmally poor services and get away with it? The majority view is that it reflects badly on all charities; something must be done.

But this is the same conversation that took place at the spring conference the year before. Nothing has been done about organisation X and there are plenty of entirely plausible reasons why the Chief Executives should leave the elephant in the room well alone.

After all, surely charities cannot be expected to regulate each other – isn’t that the job of official regulators such as the Charity Commission? Or what about the commissioners and funders that must surely be monitoring the work of organisation X? Besides, every organisation has services that under-perform for periods of time; we should be caution about being too critical about organisation X.

But in our heart if hearts, we know that organisation X has been under-performing for years. Every time the other charities advertise a job, applications from staff at organisation X are plentiful as good people seek to flee the dysfunctional vessel. Stories emerge with depressing regularity of endless, consistently mishandled re-structuring exercises and dubious staff management practices leading to frequent employment tribunals. Governance at organisation X is famously weak with the over-bearing executive in full control. He is the puppeteer pulling the strings and the cowed trustees dance to the tune laid down for them.

In truth, perhaps regulators and funders should be expected to investigate more, to ask harder questions and to dig beneath the information provided through monitoring reports and returns. But it must also be recognised that, even for the most diligent regulator or funder, there is inevitably territory where they don’t know what they don’t know.

There may be another more visceral, sub-conscious and dishonourable reason for a Chief Executive to avoid raising concerns about organisation X. Leading a charity brings with it many vicissitudes. There are days, months, years when the sun shines but also periods of abject bleakness when projects go wrong, trustee boards play up, funding is lost, mistakes are made and reputations are on the line. How comforting it can be for a chief executive to look across at organisation X and think that, despite everything, it could be worse. Doesn’t the group always need a failing member to provide the sustenance of schadenfreude?

This, of course, is just not good enough. It would be intolerable for charity sector chief executives to set themselves up, either formally or informally, as an inquisitorial Star Chamber to pass judgement on their peers. Such an approach would be objectionable, unworkable and thankfully unnecessary. This is a sector which is well regulated and, in comparison with other areas of public life, refreshingly scandal-free. But either individually or collectively chief executives surely have a duty to have a quiet word to those who need to know – principally the regulator, when evidence emerges, building up sediment upon sediment, that suggests an organisation is behaving in a way that is damaging the reputation of the voluntary and community sector.

When an organisation is dysfunctional to this extent, the beneficiaries of the charity will invariably be receiving a service that is at best shoddy and at worst putting them at serious risk. This is the strongest incentive for taking such a step.

Instead what tends to happen is that, eventually, an internal whistle-blower takes the huge risk of contacting the regulator or a funder, an investigation duly follows and malpractice is exposed. At the next spring conference the chief executives gather. With a collective rolling of the eyes, they gravely discuss the deplorable situation that was allowed to persist for far too long at organisation X. We all knew something wasn’t right they say. Someone should have intervened earlier.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Super-strength lager is a beer for sipping, possibly from a wine glass - and other delusions

Steve was telling me about the delusional behaviour of the drink dependent person – the alcoholic, as he refers to himself. Not, he was quick to point out, a recovered alcoholic. Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. In his view, you can’t risk relaxing and then relapsing. You need to be on constant guard. At various times Steve had convinced himself that he could be a normal drinker. He would venture into his local pub and have a pint, then sit there all night trying not to think about a second pint. Having successfully reached last orders, he’d go home satisfied that his consumption of alcohol was under control.  But on the second night he would be the last to leave the pub having drank steadily all evening. By the end of the week, raging at the bar staff for refusing to serve him, his final ignominious departure was often assisted by the police. By now, out of control, he would buy six-packs of super-strength lager to drink at home. He preferred Tennent’s Super a...

London 2012: The changing face of rough sleeping

  Walking the streets of central London in the late evening chill I was struck by the extraordinary changes to the profile of the rough sleeping population in the capital. This particular evening in question I spoke with dozens of people busy wrapping up tightly against the cold. Individual human beings showing different emotions: the anxious, the paranoid, the sinister, the confused, the phlegmatic, the desperate, the bewildered. In some respects there has been no change to the rough sleeping profile. Most of the people I spoke to sleeping rough that night were male, white and aged from 25 to 45. This has been the profile for a number of years. Research published recently by Heriot Watt University [1] into homelessness and social exclusion provides strong evidence that it is males in this age range who suffer from the most significant levels of social exclusion and particularly men in their 30’s, who are referred to by the researchers as ‘the forgotten middle’. The reasons why...

Anne Naysmith's lifestyle choice?

I’m often told that the number of women sleeping rough is underestimated because women feel especially vulnerable on the street and hide themselves away in places where they will be difficult to find. The certainty with which this is stated is in stark contrast to the hesitancy that follows when you ask for some evidence of where these women rough sleepers might be. Despite outreach teams scouring not only the familiar rough sleeping areas but also housing estates, woodland and even riding the night buses to find rough sleepers, the number of women sleeping rough in London as a proportion of the overall homeless population stands at just 12%. Far from facing a problem of being hidden, I am concerned that women rough sleepers have a disadvantage that arises from their very visibility and prominence. There has always been a danger that we romanticise rough sleeping, viewing it as a form of rugged individualism, a lifestyle choice adopted by impressively eccentric characters making a s...