Executive Leadership

As someone who took part in the fact-gathering process, it is both an honour and a responsibility to reflect on what trust-based funding means, not just in theory, but in practice, and to explore what the future of the cultural funding ecosystem might look like if trust becomes one of its central pillars.

I want to begin with a story, because stories remind us of what systems often forget.

I want to tell you about a dancer named Amina. Amina lives in Nairobi and works at the crossroads of contemporary dance, and traditional Swahili rhythms. As part of her contribution to the intangible heritage of her people.

She is not an institution. She does not have audited financials. She cannot quantify her "outputs" in beneficiary numbers.

What she has is a practice, a vision, and a community of collaborators. For years, every grant she encountered wanted the same things: projected outcomes, multi-year organisational strategies. Each was designed for an institutional world in which culture is produced by structures, rather than by people.

Then something shifted. A funder piloted a trust-based micro-grant for individual cultural practitioners. The application asked three questions: What are you working on? Why does it matter? How can we support you?

The funding came up front, without receipts, and the reporting was a reflective conversation and not a compliance audit. With that support, she developed performance about water, belonging, and climate justice. It premiered in a community centre, travelled to a festival, and sparked conversations that outlasted the grant itself.

If you asked her what made the difference, she won't say "the money." She said: "They trusted me before they asked me to prove myself." That, in practice, is what trust-based funding looks like.

Traditional cultural funding contains a contradiction: funders often say they want experimentation, innovation, and risk-taking but often reward predictability, compliance, and proof of previous success.

This matters because funding is not neutral. It distributes dignity, opportunity, and imagination. It determines who gets to dream, who gets to experiment, who gets to fail, and ultimately, who gets to shape culture.

We must remember that cultural practices are not just decorative they carry memory, imagination, identity, critique, and continuity. Heritage binds intergenerational communities. Culture helps societies interpret complexity and envision futures.

To quote UNESCO, Culture for Sustainable Development (2014) "Culture is both a driver and an enabler of sustainable development." Trust becomes essential for this work because culture is not linear, not easily standardised, not easily quantified. It is relational. It is rooted in context.

When cultural practitioners are treated as "risky," "non-compliant," or "insufficiently formal," we are not managing risk, we are suppressing possibility.

Colonial and Neo-Colonial Power Dynamics

To talk about the future, we must be honest about the past and the present. Much of the global funding architecture still reflects colonial and neo-colonial power dynamics. They show up in at least three ways:

First, through extraction where stories, aesthetics, or visibility are valued but the practitioners are underfunded or structurally excluded.

Second, through conditionality where funding systems apply heavy scrutiny, short-term projects, and mistrust embedded in paperwork.

Third, through epistemic hierarchies. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o asks, "Who has the power to define the world?" a question central to cultural funding, because epistemic authority determines whose knowledge counts and whose does not.

Where western institutional knowledge is often treated as legitimate, while oral, embodied, relational, or Indigenous knowledge is treated as informal, anecdotal, or even at times unscientific. But cultural ecosystems flourish because of diversity not despite it.

Accessibility as Justice

This connects directly to the question of accessibility. Accessibility in cultural funding is not only about ramps, websites, or geographic reach. It is about language, status, geography, digital divides, administrative burden, and legal and visa systems.

A system that is difficult to access is, by definition, a system built on mistrust. If the future is to be different, accessibility must be redesigned not as an afterthought, but as a principle of justice.

I see the future as a place and time where language, geography, positionality of practitioners, technology, mobility and reporting requirements being shaped from the point of view and needs of the practitioners themselves and not how the funder thinks it should be.

Five Pillars of Trust

However, none of the above are possible without trust. Trust is not a soft value — it is a structural precondition for complexity, collaboration, and cultural rights. So, what does "trust" look like when operationalized? I would highlight five pillars:

Pillar 1: Accessibility If people cannot enter, they cannot participate. Simplify language. Diversify formats. Reduce bureaucratic barriers.

Pillar 2: Autonomy Unrestricted funding honours agency. It acknowledges that practitioners know what they need better than distant institutions do.

Pillar 3: Accountability as Learning Compliance asks for receipts; learning asks for reflection. Conversations, not surveillance. Insights, not audits.

Pillar 4: Proximity Decisions should be made closer to context. Regionally. Community-led. Artist-informed. Indigenous-led. Proximity reduces harmful assumptions.

Pillar 5: Time Horizons Culture does not flourish in 12-month cycles. Multi-year support creates stability and dignity.

These pillars are not aspirational. They are already in motion. During my time at the Prince Claus Fund, for example, I witnessed firsthand how practitioner-centred models, from unrestricted Seed Awards to locally grounded networks created ecosystems of trust, autonomy, and exchange.

A Call to Action

We stand at a very nuanced period in our history. Crises are converging whether it is democratic, climatic, economic yet so are possibilities. Culture will be essential to how societies navigate anxiety, memory, conflict, imagination, and belonging.

If we want culture to thrive, we must fund the people who carry it. If we want heritage to endure, we must resource the communities who steward it. If we want cultural rights to be real, they must be materially supported.

This requires a shift in attitude: from scrutiny to access, from conditionality to autonomy, from extractive visibility to reciprocal investment, from project thinking to ecosystem thinking, from risk management to possibility enablement.

Trust is not naïve. Trust is strategic. It unlocks creativity, mobility, solidarity, and imagination which are the very things that rigid systems struggle to produce.

So my invitation to you all in this room is this: Let us stop asking only, "How do we ensure nothing goes wrong?" And let us begin asking, "What becomes possible when we trust?"

Because when trust is present, practitioners flourish, communities flourish, heritage flourishes, and culture, in the fullest sense, becomes an ecosystem rather than a transaction. And that, ultimately, is why we are here.

As we convene under the powerful theme, "Connecting for Change," I am reminded that change does not occur in isolation. It is born out of connection—connections that transcend borders, defy stereotypes, and celebrate our shared humanity.

Today, I want to explore with you how we can harness the power of solidarity through diversity and representation. I believe that by embracing the rich tapestry of perspectives, experiences, and identities that exist within our global community, we can build more inclusive, resilient, and impactful movements for change.

But solidarity through diversity is not merely about representation; it is about creating opportunities for practitioners who bring different views and who face unique regional challenges. It is about understanding the complex power dynamics that influence whose voices are heard and whose are silenced. It is about ensuring the autonomy of practice and self-determination so that change is driven by those who are most affected.

To ground our conversation today, let us reflect on the words of the great Desmond Tutu, who said, "My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together." This is the essence of solidarity—recognizing that our destinies are interconnected and that our liberation is tied to each other's.

Understanding Power Dynamics

To truly connect for change, we must first recognize and address the power dynamics that shape our world. Too often, influence is concentrated in the hands of a few, while those at the grassroots are left without the resources or platforms to drive the change they envision.

Power is not just about resources or decision-making authority; it is about narrative control. It is about who gets to tell their story and whose story is told by others.

Solidarity through diversity requires us to consciously dismantle these hierarchies. It requires us to shift from being gatekeepers to being facilitators. We must create inclusive platforms that amplify marginalized voices rather than speaking for them.

This means re-examining our funding models. Are we investing in local leadership? Are we allowing communities to define their priorities? It means questioning our governance structures. Are our boards and leadership teams truly reflective of the communities we serve? And it means interrogating our own biases. Are we listening to understand, or are we listening to respond?

Understanding power dynamics demands humility. It requires us to acknowledge the privileges we carry and the spaces we occupy. It challenges us to relinquish control and trust those on the frontlines of change to lead the way.

Audre Lorde reminds us that "Without community, there is no liberation... but community must not mean a shedding of our differences, nor the pathetic pretence that these differences do not exist." Solidarity, then, is not about erasing differences; it is about respecting them and using them as a foundation for collective power.

Honoring Autonomy and Self-Determination

True solidarity also demands that we honour the autonomy of practice and the right to self-determination. Change cannot be imported or imposed. It must be rooted in the lived experiences, cultural contexts, and aspirations of the people we seek to serve.

We must move away from the one-size-fits-all models of development. Instead, we must embrace pluralism in solutions, understanding that what works in one region may not work in another. Let us support localized innovation by creating enabling environments where practitioners have the freedom to experiment and adapt. Let us fund context-specific initiatives that recognize the nuances of regional challenges. And let us respect the agency of communities by involving them as equal partners, not as passive beneficiaries.

In doing so, we move from charity to solidarity, from saviourism to partnership. We create ecosystems where diverse voices not only participate but lead.

The great Paulo Freire once said, "Leaders who do not act dialogically, but insist on imposing their decisions, do not organize the people—they manipulate them. They do not liberate, nor are they liberated: they oppress." Let us remember that solidarity is about co-creating solutions rather than dictating them. It is about empowering communities to determine their own destinies.

The Power of Representation

Representation is not just about having a seat at the table; it is about having a voice that is heard and valued. It is about building bridges across differences—bridges that connect movements, sectors, and generations.

By ensuring representation, we enhance cultural competence and create solutions that resonate with real-world complexities. We foster mutual learning where wisdom flows not just from North to South but in all directions. We build solidarity networks that transcend geographical boundaries, allowing us to stand together in the face of shared challenges.

But representation without meaningful participation is mere tokenism. We must go beyond the optics of diversity and commit to inclusive decision-making. This requires active mentorship, equitable resource distribution, and platforms that celebrate a diversity of thought.

The words of Malala Yousafzai resonate powerfully here: "We realize the importance of our voices only when we are silenced." If we are to connect for change, we must create environments where no one is silenced. Where every voice is heard, valued, and celebrated.

A Call to Action

Remember: True solidarity requires intentionality. It requires us to challenge power structures that perpetuate inequality. Champion autonomy and support local leadership. Commit to inclusive representation that reflects the diversity of our global community.

This is not easy work. But it is necessary work—work that is critical if we are to build a world where every voice is heard, every identity is respected, and every dream is possible.

Let us connect not just to be in the same space but to share power, to learn, to grow, and to create change together.

In the words of Angela Davis, "We have to talk about liberating minds as well as liberating society." Let us liberate our minds from the constraints of power, privilege, and prejudice. Let us liberate our societies through solidarity, diversity, and inclusion.