There’s a quiet tension building in the philanthropic space — and if you’re close enough to it, you can feel it. For decades, community foundations have been steady and trusted stewards of local generosity. But lately, they’re finding themselves eye-to-eye with a new kind of player: banks.
Not as sponsors or donors this time, but as direct competitors.
Yes, banks. Institutions whose legacy is rooted in profit, not purpose, are now offering philanthropic solutions: donor-advised funds, legacy planning, charitable gifting structures, all neatly bundled under their wealth management services. And if that makes some folks in the community foundation world uncomfortable, they’re not wrong to feel that way. The ground is shifting — and we’re still figuring out what that means.
These reflections were sharpened for me during the recent Illuminate 2025 conference, hosted by Community Foundations of Canada, where sector leaders gathered to wrestle with questions of identity, value, and the future of giving.
This isn’t about nostalgia or turf protection. It’s about clarity, value, and the future of community-centered giving.
Let’s start with why banks are doing this in the first place.
Philanthropy is no longer just a moral impulse — it’s part of a well-orchestrated wealth strategy. For high-net-worth individuals, giving is now wrapped in tax efficiency, estate planning, and generational wealth transfer. Banks understand this. They see philanthropy as a relationship retention tool. A way to stay close to a family across decades. If they can host your giving, they can also host your grandchildren’s portfolios. It’s not just about giving – it’s about anchoring.
From a business perspective, this makes sense. From a community perspective, it raises real questions.
Because while banks can offer sleek, tax-savvy vehicles, they don’t always offer meaning. They don’t know the streets where the money will land. They don’t sit across the table from a grassroots leader asking for $10,000 to keep a youth centre alive. Their capacity to convene across sectors, to hold local trust, and to catalyze civic solutions is limited — not because they don’t care, but because it’s not their design.
But community foundations can. And have. For decades.
Still, what foundations can no longer afford to do is assume that donors see this distinction. Not in an age when philanthropic giving is being commodified, bundled, and optimized.
This is where the opportunity lies — not in reacting to banks with fear, but in responding with clarity. Foundations have to stop marketing themselves as cheaper alternatives or moral options. They need to boldly assert their unique value proposition.
This is not an indictment of banks. Their entry into philanthropy reflects broader trends in wealth management. But it does pose urgent questions for the charitable sector — questions that community foundations are uniquely positioned to answer.
Let’s call it out. At a bank, a fee is revenue. At a community foundation, it’s reinvestment. That distinction, subtle but powerful, matters. When you work with a community foundation, your dollars are doing double duty: supporting the causes you care about, and also sustaining the very infrastructure that makes those causes visible, viable, and vibrant. You’re not just giving — you’re investing in the social architecture of your community.
Foundations should be very proud of that.
They should stop trying to compete on price and start competing on purpose. Because when you give through a community foundation, you’re not just funding a scholarship — you’re funding the team that understands what that scholarship means to the recipient, in a specific community, at a specific time, with a specific context that no spreadsheet can hold.
And let’s not forget: all foundations themselves are charities, and many foundations grant out of their own fee revenue. So, in effect, that “admin cost” isn’t a loss — it’s a reinvestment. That’s not something banks do. That’s not something banks can do, unless they fundamentally change who they are.
We are also in an age where people want alignment. Donors aren’t just looking for financial advice; they’re looking for values clarity. They want to know their giving reflects who they are. They want their legacy to be rooted in meaning, not just numbers. Community foundations — especially, when they show up boldly — are equipped to offer that clarity.
This means the challenge ahead isn’t just operational. It’s existential. Community foundations need to reimagine their story — not as neutral administrators of giving, but as active architects of impact. That means better storytelling, better donor experience, more transparency, and above all, more intentional articulation of their long game.
This is also a call to foundations to stop whispering their relevance. It’s time to say it out loud. What we do matters. What we’ve built matters. Our relationships, our results, our relevance — they are the product of decades of listening, learning, adapting, and building trust. That can’t be replicated overnight, and it shouldn’t be discounted just because a bank’s brochure is shinier.
We should also acknowledge the emotional layer here. For some foundation leaders, the banks’ arrival feels like erasure — like watching a younger, well-funded cousin show up at a family reunion with better branding and a bigger budget. But this isn’t a popularity contest. It’s a moment to double down on authenticity, not aesthetics.
This is not a turf war. It’s a test of voice, of vision, and of values.
Community foundations aren’t outdated. They’re just under-asserted. They’re not losing relevance — they’re being called to reassert it. That’s the real invitation here: not to defend against change, but to define the future of community philanthropy with sharper language, stronger conviction, and deeper pride in what they’ve made possible.
Banks may offer tools. But community foundations offer trust — and in the long arc of giving, trust is what endures.