Attracting funds for innovation work can be hard enough, but to sell the concept that these innovations will be designed, developed and tested by communities themselves elevates donor1 risk aversion to a whole new level. If you can’t define in advance what you’re buying in terms of outputs (ideally, tangible products) and outcomes, and if you then leave it to a community to determine what innovations they should pursue, why would you invest?
Yet we all know that innovation – the process of developing and bringing to life new ideas – is at the heart of what it is to be human and of our collective evolution on this planet. We tend not to start with the end in mind, with fully formed concepts of a bow and arrow or air conditioning in our mind which we then magically brought to life. Instead we developed them through a process of constant trial and error based on the resources we have at our disposal, emerging new technologies, and the possibilities emerging in the present.
In my first article I explored three foundational arguments against investment in community-led innovation: How can we invest in uncertainty when outcomes can’t be specified in advance? How can we invest in solutions designed by communities when they are unlikely to be that innovative? How can we secure value for money from our investment when the solutions are bespoke and unlikely to scale? As if those arguments aren’t enough, there is a final, structural, deal-breaker of an argument which I unpack next before suggesting some ways we can overcome these arguments.
Why should we invest in work that is really Development sector and not Humanitarian?
This, for those charged with the allocation of scarce resources, is the killer argument. One that is almost impossible to challenge. It’s the humanitarian equivalent of a manager saying ‘that’s the responsibility of another organisation/team, not mine’. Arbitrary lines between functions, departments and organisation have no relevance for the people these organisations are supposed to support and work with. They are meaningless to the flooding-prone community in Guatemala or a resident in Middlesborough trying to secure SEND support for their child. To slice up the work into solos is to lose sight of the whole and the importance of context. To work on the ground, with people and communities, is to see the nuances of their reality, regardless of how donors or government departments might want to make sense of things. Yet this work is all part of a continuous cycle of anticipating, responding to, and recovering from crises. Contextually-appropriate preparation can reduce the impact of the crisis and improve the communities response, in both approach and speed, thus also increasing resilience and shortening recovery time.
In the same way that investment in prevention in all areas of public policy ultimately pays dividends in terms of reduced demand and costs, so it is with the relationship between development and humanitarian work. The sector even uses a special word for this grey area: together with peace-building these form the triple nexus2. The community innovation work is firmly in this space. It straddles traditional notions of development and humanitarian work. I’ll let you guess how many community members are concerned by these distinctions. Distinctions that tend to only show up in government budgets, career pathways, university programmes, professional networks, conferences, and so on.
If we attempt to see things from the communities perspective, in their context, we can often start to appreciate the ridiculous nature of the arbitrary way we organise and structure things. A different perspective can lead us to challenge the status quo, to do things differently, to offer alternatives. To surface ideas that are grounded in the geographical context, local knowledge, and collective agency of the community, not predetermined from afar.
Collectively these four arguments can make it straightforward for donors to prioritise investment in other, more certain and predictable propositions. It also has a self-serving effect of preserving the status quo, a place of relative security and familiarity for those trying to forge a career, navigate political contexts, avoid mistakes, safeguard public funds, and so on. No wonder it can be hard for donors to get excited about investing in something so uncertain and counter-cultural as putting the power to design and implement change in the hands of those the change is intended to benefit.
And yet.
As the challenges faced by communities across the globe intensify we are likely to reach a point – we’ve probably already passed it – where no change is not an option. We can to do things differently.
We can develop a portfolio of innovations and interventions. This enables us to match a donor’s risk tolerance with the innovation being tested. We can also factor in the risks of keeping things the same, of not changing, instead of only evaluating the risk of trying something new. A portfolio also steers us away from placing one big bet – which then has to succeed, for the sake of everyone involved. Instead, we can work on multiple smaller interventions, where it is less critical if some don’t work out, because others will.
We can invert the delivery chain, placing power in the hands of those who stand to benefit the most and drawing on their local knowledge to design and test workable solutions that are fit for context.
We can ensure innovation is more than a product. It’s not enough to only have a flood warning system – what happens after the alarm sounds? That part of the innovation process is so often forgotten or conveniently ignored because to a remote technician they’ve solved the problem. Donors can cost and scale the technical solution, yet the real value is when it leads to collective action which then leads to better outcomes.
We can require donors and funders to evaluate the quality of the process and the learning from the work, not the extent to which predetermined and predefined outcomes were achieved (for that tells us nothing of value). So much that is of real value is unknowable in advance and only emerges through the process of doing the work itself. It is best captured through stories of change.
In Guatemala the lead NGO, ASECSA, worked tirelessly with the community on their innovations, and was eventually able to secure new funding to buy land that wasn’t a flood risk. The community are in the process of relocating, yet families allocated the first homes refused to move out of the flood risk area until houses had been built for every family. How could traditional donors factor in such added value to their evaluations? How could our economic models make sense of such a powerful solidarity within the community?
It is important to focus on the invisible forces that exists in any system, such as the relationships, power and trust that are critical to be aware of, and work with, to create the kinds of change that communities want – whether they are in Guatemala or the UK. Remote decision-making and resource allocation can’t adequately account for these, yet they are vital elements of any programme. Ultimately, in social innovation, it’s proximity to the problem that really matters – and that includes donors.
1 By donor I include all those sources of funds in the public, charity and NGO space: investors, governments, philanthropists, private donors, etc.
2 See, for example:
Mena, R. (2026). The humanitarian–development–peace (triple) nexus: a typology and critical reflections. Disasters, 50(4), e70067. https://doi.org/10.1111/disa.70067
Ian Burbidge. 
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