The Unwritten Rules of Philanthropy

The Unwritten Rules of Philanthropy

By Russ Campbell

I have worked in philanthropy for more than two decades which is more than enough time to have seen the sector shift and change. Sometimes dramatically, sometimes not nearly enough. And long enough to know that the most important lessons are rarely written down.

Philanthropy is a polite field. That’s not a criticism; it’s simply a fact. We care deeply about the work, about impact, about doing good in the world. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be here. But we are not especially good at talking about the messy parts: power, ego, trust, mistakes, or the quiet social rules that govern how things actually work.

Every year, when I’m asked by the NC Network of Grantmakers to speak about “the unwritten rules of philanthropy,” I think hard about what I want to focus on. This year, what kept coming back to me was showing up. Especially since much of my career, and honestly my life, it has boiled down to doing just that.

I did not plan to end up in philanthropy. I didn’t know it was a field. I moved to North Carolina from Philadelphia in the early 2000s and decided to create opportunity for myself and to take a biology class at UNC. I thought it might be useful. I struck up a conversation with someone in that class, and they mentioned a science writing job at a foundation I had never heard of. I found the posting in the classified section of The News & Observer, applied, and somehow got the job.

If I had not shown up to that class, I probably would not be here. If I hadn’t followed curiosity instead of a master plan, I wouldn’t be here. I still don’t entirely understand how it all worked out, but I do know how lucky I have been.

One of the things you learn over time in this field is that wherever you work, whatever your title in communications, grantmaking, programs, whatever, you carry power.

Even if you don’t feel powerful. When your email address ends in a foundation name, people respond. Doors open. Conversations happen differently. And that power can do real good, but only if you’re honest with yourself about holding it.

I think a lot about how to balance that. You can abuse it. You can pretend it doesn’t exist. Or you can acknowledge it and try, every day, to wield it responsibly. I choose the third option, even though it’s the hardest.

I also think a lot about authenticity. When I started out, philanthropy seemed buttoned up. I never went anywhere without a tie. Over time, the sector has shifted toward encouraging people to bring their whole selves to work. That’s a good thing. But authenticity is not a free pass.

This is a small world. People remember how you show up, especially when you think no one’s paying attention. That conference reception? That open bar? That offhand comment? You never know who’s in the room or who knows whom. Trust is fragile. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much time you spent building it, losing it can happen in an instance.

I’ve seen people mistake being personable for being careless. I’ve seen others confuse power with friendship. One of the hardest truths to accept is that some relationships in philanthropy are situational. When you leave, many of them leave with you. That doesn’t make them fake, but it does make it important to stay grounded in who you are without the title.

Culture matters more than any policy document. It is often said (who deserves this credit?) “If you’ve seen one foundation, you’ve seen one foundation.” Leadership sets the tone:  what’s rewarded, what’s tolerated, what’s ignored. The individual ego plays a role in all of it. Not always in a bad way, but always in a consequential one.

The best advice I ever received came after I made a mistake early in my career. I was working at a university and completely botched a call from Good Morning America. I didn’t sleep all night. I was convinced I was going to be fired. The next morning, a senior colleague leaned over my desk and said, “This institution has been around for centuries. You are so insignificant that there is almost nothing you can do that will disrupt it.”

What she gave me in that moment was perspective. It is okay to make mistakes. It is also okay to breathe and be human.

I still think about that when my ego flares up, when tension rises, when I feel the urge to defend instead of listen. Ego can create boundaries you then have to waste energy climbing over. Perspective dissolves them.

At the end of the day, this work is relational. It’s built on trust, listening, and showing up again and again with integrity. The unwritten rules aren’t about playing the game better. They’re about remembering why you’re here, how small the world really is, and how much your choices, especially the quiet ones, matter.

If I could distill two decades in philanthropy into a few unwritten rules for those entering the sector, they’d be these in no particular order:

• Protect your credibility like it’s irreplaceable, because it is. 

• Show up. Curiosity matters more than certainty.

• Respect the power you hold even when it feels abstract.

• Listen more than you talk, especially when you think you already know.

• Take the work seriously. Don’t take yourself too seriously.

• And once more because it’s a tough lesson to learn: Protect your credibility.

This field can be deeply rewarding. I mean, it absolutely is rewarding. I have done things, seen places, and accomplished more than I ever thought was possible. It can also be confusing, political, and emotionally demanding. I am blessed (a word I do not use lightly) and honored to work in this field and with some of the most amazing people I have ever encountered. The rules aren’t written down, but they’re learned, sometimes the hard way.

Russ Campbell is a science communications leader and philanthropic storyteller with more than 20 years of experience shaping how science connects with society. As Director of Science Communications at the Burroughs Wellcome Fund, he leads strategic storytelling initiatives and helps manage a multimillion-dollar portfolio focused on civic science, public health communication, and strengthening the broader science communication ecosystem. His work centers on building authentic relationships, amplifying diverse voices, and advancing the role of science in public life.