A Sense of Déjà Vu: What 2008 taught me
- 6 days ago
- 2 min read
I remember 2008 less by the dates than by how it felt. And lately, there has been a growing sense of déjà vu.
I was pregnant, working at The Economist Group, and my husband was at Lehman Brothers when it collapsed. I remember hearing the announcement and the alarm that followed. What stayed with me was not only the financial instability but the collective paralysis. People and organisations froze. Decisions stalled. Everyone waited for some certainty to return.
Lately, I am recognising that same instinct across parts of the philanthropic sector. Not because the circumstances are identical, but because uncertainty often produces similar behaviours. Funding decisions are taking longer. Commitments are deferred. There is a desire for greater clarity before acting and, in some cases, a concern that decisions made today may face greater scrutiny tomorrow. Much of this is entirely understandable.
Yet delay is not a neutral response.
For a while, nothing appears to change. But beneath the surface, resilience weakens, and by the time the damage becomes visible, recovery is harder.
The same seems to be true in philanthropy.
When funding pauses, services pause. When decisions are deferred, delivery is deferred. A child can lose access to critical support, while programmes lose staff, trust and momentum. Recovery is rarely as simple as picking up where they left off.
The compounding effect of delay is often underestimated.
Economic volatility, political uncertainty, climate pressures and social fragmentation are no longer temporary disruptions. They have become part of the operating environment. The question is no longer how to return to stability. It is how to lead effectively within uncertainty.
Periods of uncertainty create leadership opportunities. When others pause, even modest commitments can have an outsized impact. Flexible funding and trusted partnerships become more valuable, not less.
That is why the real risk, as I see it, is not bold action. It is the normalisation of hesitation.
The philanthropists I most admire are not waiting for the perfect moment. They are finding ways to keep moving within the constraints they face deliberately, rigorously and without waiting for certainty that may never come. That might mean backing a trusted partner, sharing intelligence with peers, or maintaining a reduced programme rather than suspending it altogether. Small decisions like these preserve relationships, capacity and trust until fuller resources return. These are not grand gestures. They are the decisions that keep systems alive when certainty is unavailable.
Bold and even small movements have an outsized impact in uncertain environments. They build confidence, sustain momentum and make it easier for others to act.
The question facing philanthropy right now, in my opinion, is not whether uncertainty exists. It is how we choose to lead within it.
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