BY Sacha-Rose Phillips, Program Officer of Midwest Climate & Energy at McKnight Foundation
A note from the author: This article was written during the height of the ICE surge in Minneapolis in February 2026. As the United States approaches its 250th anniversary, it is another moment to take stock of climate philanthropy’s role in protecting democracy. Many of the lessons discussed below were first modeled for me by my colleagues at the McKnight Foundation and our community partners across Minnesota. Their leadership, courage, and willingness to fully live into our values of equity and justice for all are what prompted me to write this piece. I offer it with deep gratitude for their example.
When my friends and colleagues from the country ask me how I am doing and whether things have “calmed down” in Minneapolis, the following images typically rush to mind:
The passport that I now have permanently tucked in the front pocket of my purse to prove that I belong here, “just in case.”
Neighbors seated around my dining table, playing with their young kids on my living room floor, or perched on the edge of the picnic table we brought inside for extra seating in the middle of winter. Some had never met before January, when federal agents flooded the Twin Cities, intimidating through raids, arrests, violence, and family separation. We all now eagerly talk and strategize about ways to continue to support our community given “the surge.”
The restaurant with a large “NO ICE” sign on the door where I patiently stand as tense servers pensively peek through windows to make sure I pose no threat to their staff and other patrons. And then, inevitably, the smiles of relief when their eyes see my familiar face.
The STOP signs I still pass on my way to work with their simple yet striking stickers spelling – “ICE.” These demands to “STOP ICE” reflect the subtle, and not so subtle, shifts to daily life in the city I have called home for three years.
It would be remiss of you to think that what has unfolded in Minnesota could not soon reflect your own daily experience. The United States is fast heading down the road to authoritarianism at a frightening speed. The erosion of critical democratic institutions, the steady decline of public trust in all levels of government and the rollback of basic civil protections all signal its advent.
And as the events of early 2026 taught us, these developments are not only costing us our voice and right to due process, they are costing us fundamental freedoms, our lives and the lives of those we embrace as neighbors.
Our experience here first in Minnesota and, now as ICE agents now take up residence in airports, across the country, has made it clear that the ICE insurgency is not only a test but potentially a pretext to organized election interference and limiting the rights of people to exercise their voices at the voting booth in November.
In philanthropy, particularly in institutions that have narrow mandates or risk-averse boards, we may feel limited in our ability to act by seemingly inflexible institutional parameters. The volume and pace of change to our social fabric and political landscape seems overwhelming that we feel paralyzed by the weight of the work that is ahead of us.
But my experience this past winter has made clear that swift and clear action is possible if we lead with a people-first approach.
Much of what I will share and its efficacy was validated by what I witnessed during my year in the TFN’s PLACES Fellowship. From our visits to Syracuse, New York and stops in Nashville, Tennessee to Tucson, Arizona it was readily apparent that: we can resist the slide to authoritarianism if institutions partner with communities proactively to invest in organizing and mutual aid networks, not as charity but first as members of that community.
What I want to offer you, fellow program officer, is a roadmap on how to position yourself and your institution to do exactly this and to meet the moment:
Get Clear on the “Who” and Have Your Analysis Ready Before It Is Asked of You
Regardless of your programmatic focus, now is the time to identify which organizations are best positioned to protect communities and which will be needed to help build a more just future in the aftermath of this crisis. This moment does not call for fuzzy strategies or flowery language. It calls for clear, strategic identification of organizations and advocates by their priorities, values, and capacities. In this sense, clarity is not only kindness. It is the difference between being an effective or an impotent organizer of capital.
In many instances, you may not need to build an entirely new network of actors. But you do need to be honest about what you do not know. You cannot close a knowledge gap you refuse to admit exists. Deeply interrogate the relationships you have built and ask yourself whether they are a function of convenience and proximity or a function of truly understanding an organization’s work and how it applies to the needs you have identified in your community.
Build toward a “ride or die” cohort: people and organizations that are trusted by the community, and whose expertise is grounded in lived experience, deep practice, and hard-won knowledge.
Once you have that honest accounting, be prepared to fill the gaps. Help organizers create new structures and entities to build resources and train everyday people. We have never done this work under these conditions before, and new organizational forms will need to emerge to meet it. Mapping this landscape now (what exists, what is missing, and what needs to be built) will give your leadership the clarity and confidence to act. Have your analysis ready before it is asked of you.
Build Your Internal Authorization to Pivot (Organize, Organize, Organize) or Find the Courage to Ask for Forgiveness, Not Permission
This moment demands adaptability and nimbleness. It is not the time to remain trapped in the same permission structures that have prevented philanthropy from robustly funding organizing and community work for decades.
To avoid getting mired in bureaucracy, start socializing a “if ___, then we will ___” framework now. Start priming your colleagues to make decisions without hesitation that will meet the needs of the community in moments of deep challenge.
Doing so will help you identify two critical types of allies: your “yes people” and your “doers.” Your yes people share your analysis of what is possible and what is on the horizon. They will validate your thinking and help build internal consensus toward concrete action. Your doers will roll up their sleeves, pick up the phone, and pound the pavement. They are most adept at helping to make the internal case by mobilizing other funders, and moving resources when crisis and political instability demand it.
Mutual Aid Networks and Community Groups Are the Backbone of Crisis Infrastructure, Invest in Them Now
Now that you have built the map and have the support of your team, you need to seed the ground and one of the best ways to do that is to support locally rooted mutual aid networks. The time to do so is not when you see the first signs of crisis, but now, during periods of relative stability. This should be a foundational element of any philanthropic strategy, not an afterthought.
Mutual aid networks have long been been part of the fabric of American communities, particularly Indigenous communities. Supporting mutual aid networks is not charity and should not be treated as such. Rather, it is an opportunity for your institution to see itself as a community member and to participate in a voluntary, peer-to-peer like exchange of resources, information and capital.
To this end, mutual aid networks should not be treated as typical non-profit organizations — but as a strategic infrastructure that helps reduce institutional and community’s exposure to instability in times of crisis. Because this relationship is fundamentally distinct, you should consider moving these resources as donations rather than grants, thereby removing burdensome or unnecessary reporting requirements.
A Word of Advice for Principals
Perhaps you are no longer in the day-to-day management of programs at your institution. Perhaps you have risen to executive leadership within philanthropy. I have some earnest advice for you, too:
Create the Authorizing Environment
A beloved colleague of mine — someone who has managed political campaigns, run a state office, and even led a domestic violence shelter — put it best: the best bosses get out of the way, then block and tackle on behalf of their staff.
Give your team explicit permission to pivot as your context changes, and let your internal systems reflect this new authorizing and distributed leadership environment.
If you trust your team, demonstrate it. Give them permission to respond to the community needs they are seeing, in the manner that best meets the moment and in ways that may bend program priorities and parameters. And as you do, remember: this is not a time to punish the inevitable misstep. It is a time to reward courage and the willingness to try. Reward your staff for choosing community and listening to it and if you cannot reward them, at minimum, look away.
Move People Before You Move Capital
One of the most significant leadership lessons that I learned from my time in PLACES has been to move people before you move capital. We live in a capital-centric society, one that orients work and priorities around money rather than around the people the money will impact or the people making the micro-decisions about how it is spent.
Do not move a single dollar, or go to your board about doing more, without first talking to your team and having a clear understanding about how changes in capital flows will impact them. Once you have given them permission to act, ask about their capacity, not just their bandwidth, but their ability to be fully present. We are quick to refresh strategies and adjust budgets without first giving people permission to reflect on their own talents, competencies, and how they can best show up. Skipping that step can destabilize your organization and quietly erode trust in your leadership and your institution. Nobody has time for that.
Don’t Just Assess Capacity, Have a Plan to Sustain It
Think strategically about the cycles of work, rest, and stress (physical, psychological, and otherwise) that will inevitably meet your team in a moment of crisis. Plan for those cycles so your staff can stay focused on the work that matters.
Create moments of genuine team connection: more shared meals, joint reflection spaces that are optional, unscripted, and not over-programmed. Then show up to them yourself, alongside other senior leaders. Model what you want to see.
For staff who come from impacted communities, or whose families may be targeted, ensure that your remote work and paid time off policies are equitable and account for the reality of their situation. Make sure your wellness benefits and additional support resources are robust enough for people to get the care they need for themselves and for their families.
Validate and Verify with Community
Within philanthropy, it is easy to become our own worst enemy when we are not intentional about seeking out grounded knowledge. Move beyond the echo chambers of philanthropy convenings, boardrooms, and ivory towers. Hold yourself accountable to real people — not titles, not boards.
Gut-check your assumptions about what is happening in the world against your book club, the cashier at the grocery store, the receptionist at your doctor’s office. The people closest to the ground are often the first to feel the shifts that institutions are the last to see.
A Final Note for All Philanthropy Professionals
A common refrain in the TFN PLACES program: we must move beyond the grant. What does that look like in practice?
It looks like my fellow PLACES alum Amanda Quam from the West Central Initiative Foundation, who has not only mobilized resources for rural communities but given moving testimony before our state legislature about the devastating impact of the ICE surge on rural farming communities.
It looks like my colleagues at McKnight publicly supporting our community’s right to protest by handing out hot chocolate, hugs, and hand warmers in sub-zero temperatures, and cheering people on.
It looks like funder partners using their public voices and social media platforms to denounce hate, demand justice for immigrant neighbors and the marginalized even at the risk of increased scrutiny and unfair attacks.
Showing up in these ways matters just as much, as and in many instances more, than the dollars we deploy. It signals that we are willing to put all on the line for the protection of communities and not hide behind the comfort that institutional power and access to capital often provides.
The community has proven it will move with or without our resources. The question is: when you look back, what will you say you did with your time, talent, and resources to prepare your community?
May the lessons we’ve learned in Minnesota and across the country provide a roadmap to defy the playbook of tyranny and the erosion of our democracies.
Sacha-Rose Phillips joined the McKnight Foundation as a program officer with the Midwest Climate & Energy program in November 2022. In this role, she oversees and develops significant grant portfolios that support efforts to build power through partnerships, aligning McKnight’s climate and equity goals to advance solutions to the climate crisis.
She is a member of the 2025 TFN PLACES Fellowship cohort.
About TFN’s PLACES Fellowship
For more than 15 years, PLACES — which stands for Professionals Learning About Community, Equity and Sustainability — has welcomed +200 fellows to participate in an 8-month long learning opportunity to help grantmakers embed the values of racial, social and economic equity into their work.
Our alums hail from all corners of the United States and Canada, representing national, regional, local foundations and grantmaking intermediaries.
To learn more about TFN’s PLACES Fellowship and our alums, click here.