In one of my recent papers — some called it the HQ Efficiency Manifesto — I wrote about “small c” cuts: quiet, strategic shifts that make systems work better without breaking them. Not “capital C” Cuts like full restructures or dramatic overhauls. Just intentional redesigns. Smart tweaks. Targeted improvements.

The “small c” cuts work beautifully for INGO culture. But now, it’s time we apply the same lens to something bigger — strategy.

Why? Because INGO strategy can no longer be just another routine exercise. Not when humanitarian and development operations are under so much pressure, the needs are increasing, funding is shrinking, and delivery still depends on exhausted field teams.

The truth? INGO strategy in its current form, in plain terms: Bold visions. Good intentions. So little shift.

We’re not short on strategies. We’re swimming in them.

Global. Regional. Country. Area. Sectors. Clusters. SDG-aligned. HNO-linked. HRP-synced. And yes, institutional donors — whose “strategy” is often just foreign policy in disguise.

Meanwhile, field staff still run on caffeine and gut feeling. Communities are re-consulted like déjà vu. Strategic documents gather virtual dust while decisions live in approval loops.

What we lack isn’t strategy. It’s strategic memory, strategic courage, and a design rooted in reality.
This paper is another “small c” cut — not about slashing budgets or trimming meetings. It’s about cutting through the illusion of INGO strategy itself.

Strategy Without Memory

Many INGOs treat every new strategy like a fresh start — a clean slate — when in reality, the future is never blank; it’s shaped by past decisions, ongoing projects, previous strategies, and lessons still unfolding.

Most of the time we draft bold visions while still running on outdated structures. We promise transformation without pausing to reflect on what worked, and what quietly broke. And we design new projects without finishing the old ones.

You can’t build the future if you’re allergic to the past.
Here’s a “small c” cut worth making: Make the past a co-author, not a disclaimer.

Start your strategy with reflection before design even begins. Require every strategy process to name what it’s letting go of, what it’s carrying forward, and why.

And maybe — just maybe — you don’t need a new strategy at all. Maybe you just need to honor the commitments you already made and extend the old strategy instead of launching a new one.

And that’s okay. That’s still leadership. That’s still strategy. That’s still progress.

Just Add Bananas: One strategy, too many toppings

Before I tell you about the multiverse of INGO strategy, let me tell you how I make my oatmeal.

It’s simple — at least, it starts that way. Oats and milk. Specific. Focused. Purposeful.

But then I think, hmm… a small piece of banana would make it nicer.

Once I add the banana, I feel like it needs blueberries to make it healthier.

I slice up some strawberries… because. Just because.

Then comes a spoon of peanut butter — just for a little sweetness. But now it’s too sweet, so I add some almonds to break the taste.

Then it feels too nutty, so I throw in a scoop of chocolate-flavored protein powder — adds some balance, a bit of a vibe, and a protein boost.

And before I know it, I’m sprinkling chia seeds on top, because why not?

There you go. My “simple” under-300-calorie snack has turned into a 1000+ calorie power bowl that keeps me full all day.

What was supposed to be simple and focused became layered, bloated, and overly complicated.

Sound familiar?

That’s exactly what INGO strategy feels like.

It starts with a clean intention, a clear vision, a bold statement, a focused direction. But then… BOOOOM. It turns into an ecosystem of overlapping frameworks stacked like a bloated breakfast bowl.

We start with a global strategy — polished, SDG-aligned, and full of ambition.

Then comes the regional strategy — bridging “global intent with local nuance,” topped with elegant slide decks and some careful diplomacy.

Then the country strategies — HRP-aligned, juggling donor demands, national politics, and the latest context analysis.

Then — hello — area-level strategies… because. Just because.

And all of it? Supposed to align perfectly with donor strategies, the SDGs, cluster plans, HRPs, HNOs, and whatever else the funding demands.

And just when we think we’ve finally mapped it all — surprise: strategic refresh, mid-cycle review, or periodic revision.

And let’s not forget the:
• Spiderwebs of KPIs, some quantitative, others “qualitative but measurable.”
• A master budget that reads more like a fundraising pitch.
• A theory of change with more arrows than answers.

Then we translate it. Roll it out. Host the webinars. Start reporting.

And suddenly, what was meant to be a clear, actionable strategy… feels like a protein-packed oatmeal that no one can digest.

It’s like asking country teams to juggle while tap dancing on a melting iceberg.

Here’s a “small c” cut worth making:

Ask better questions before you write better strategies.
Do you really need a strategy for Country X — or just an operational plan? Maybe what you need isn’t an expansion and fundraising strategy. Maybe it’s an exit strategy. Do you need a regional strategy, or just a positioning statement? Do you need an area-level strategy, or just a program design? Do you need positioning and branding strategy or better access modality? Do you need to polish your Secretary General’s image with more statements — or bring in voices from the frontlines instead? Do you need to align the country with the global — or the global with the country?

The point isn’t to align with every global framework. It’s to design what actually fits your context (clearly, boldly, and simply).

When strategy is grounded in context, ownership, clarity, and courage, you don’t need a new version or review every six months. And you definitely don’t need one that aligns with everyone.

Field teams own it. HQ supports it. Donors and people fund it — because results speak louder than slides.

It’s not easy. But start with small cuts from this paper, and strategy might finally mean something again.

The Sandbox Addiction: Pilots Are Not Progress

The logic sounds solid: test before scale, learn before rollout, build the evidence.

But over time, piloting has become a comfort zone — a sandbox where ideas go to play, but not to grow. No scaling plan. No budget. No decision-maker ready to sponsor the shift.

Strategic initiative identified — then we test a tool, a method, a project, launch a webinar, publish a “lessons learned” slide… and move on, without making it institutional or sustainable.

In many cases, pilots in strategies get airtime in senior HQ meetings, while regional and country offices are screaming: “Proven programs are starving — for funding, staffing, or attention.”

Worse? Pilots often distract from what’s already working.

Sometimes, they even replace it. (You know what I’m talking about #DigitalTransformation.)

Here’s a “small c” cut worth quietly whispering into the ears of decision-makers:

No pilot without a pathway to permanence. No sandbox without an exit strategy. Before you test anything, ask:

• How many pilots are running right now?
• Can you commit to just one at a time?
• Do you actually want this to scale?
• And most importantly: who’s ready to own it? (You need a decision-maker to champion it.)

And HQ: Stop building rockets. Finish the plane you already started. Complete what you started — tools, processes, projects — before launching the next strategic initiative.

Because systems must land, and pilots without commitment are just delays in disguise.

You Can’t Transform What You Won’t Name

Strategy documents love polished, diplomatic, political words.

We say “localization journey” when we’re still holding the funding strings.

We say “community-based programming” while reshaping programs to match donor priorities, copy-pasting old proposals.

We say “area-based intervention” while programs run in isolation, barely talking to each other. We say “multi-sectoral response” while siloed program teams fight for budget, borrowing a project design from another location — or because a donor got excited hearing the term.

This isn’t strategy. It’s linguistic risk management.

We’ve built an entire vocabulary designed to sound serious while saying very little. Because naming the real problem — power, control, ego, fear — would mean doing something about it and making many uncomfortable.

And when we can’t name the real issue, we build solutions for the wrong thing.
We layer new initiatives into strategies — calling them “enablers,” “accelerators,” or “cross-cutting pillars” — on top of unresolved truths. We redesign workflows. Create new titles. Add positions. Publish RASCI charts and stakeholder maps. Then we invent accountability tools without asking who we’re actually accountable to and who will be held accountable.

It’s okay to aim for a document five-star review later — once it’s finalized. But first, have an honest conversation before you even start writing.

This avoidance of honest strategic conversations has a cost. It shows up in disengaged, burned-out staff. In hollow partnerships.

We can’t transform a culture if we keep naming everything except the thing that’s hurting it.

We don’t need more professionals. We need truth-tellers.
Here’s a “small c” cut: cut the BS (Buzzwords Show)

Start every strategy process with an honest naming conversation. No slides. No branding. Just truth. An hour where leadership teams say what’s really happening.

Not “decision-making delays” — but unclear authority and fear of blame.
Not “financial loss” — but poor performance we refused to name.
Not “poor coordination” — but political games with no referee.
Not “recruitment delay” — but a hiring system so bloated, slow, and approval-heavy that it forgets the urgency of the job it’s trying to fill.
Not “the region is responsible” — but the region is the magician we ask to pull a rabbit from an empty hat.
Not “the country missed deadlines” — but the country is an octopus juggling knives, calendars, and KPIs with half the arms tied behind its back.

Give things their real names. Then decide what you’re actually willing to change.

Local-ish: The Strategy Said ‘Local.’ The Org Said ‘Nice Try.’

Localization within your strategy is an excellent step, and I congratulate you for that.

But if it’s there simply to signal alignment with donors, policy trends, or internal values, then let’s be honest:

We’ve built a model where local actors are funded to implement, but sidelined when it’s time to influence. Unfortunately, that’s the default setting in most INGOs today.

Much of what passes for localization is just operational outsourcing — wrapped in the language of equity and partnership.
And in many of these so-called “localization strategies,” the real levers of power (budgets, approvals, and agenda-setting) aren’t even touched. Because power lives in who decides. Who controls the money. Who gets to say no, and still stay in the room.

If localization agendas were truly real, we’d be tracking power — not just partnerships and the number of subgrants.

Let me offer a “small c” cut that requires real reflection:

Every strategy that claims localization must include a power audit (structural power review). Ask: Who holds the pen? Who approves the plan? Who sets the budget? Who owns the risks — and the room?

Then track those decisions over time. If localization is real, power will shift. Not just the work — the authority. Not just the faces — the decisions.

Until that happens, you’re not localizing.

Plan for the Crisis You Already Know Is Coming

Year after year, season after season, floods hit the same places in some countries. Droughts follow the same seasons in some regions. Monsoons roll in like clockwork. The same camps get flooded with rain. Dry seasons bring the same water shortages, the same fire outbreaks, the same nutrition alerts.

And yet — every year — we act surprised. We scramble for funding, rush to write statements, activate surge teams, and draft new talking points.

But these aren’t surprising emergencies. They’re routines wrapped in chaos. Predictable, patterned, and painfully familiar.

Still, our strategies are written for “normal.” Our staffing assumes calm. Our approvals assume time. But when crisis hits — again — field teams flip into survival mode… while still chained to outdated SOPs, rigid budget lines, and centralized HQ (or region) decisions.

My “small c” cut for you: Stop designing for stability and adjusting for crisis. Start designing for disruption from day one.

Resilience isn’t a comms line. It’s not a pillar. It’s the operating system.
Embed emergency response in your core programs and discussions, not as an annex to your strategy.

Decentralize decisions so country teams can act without waiting for HQ (or regional office). Build flexible emergency response budgets that shift across months, sectors, and shocks. Ditch static annual plans. Use rolling scenario planning — owned and updated by those closest to the risk.

I have full confidence in your expertise. You’re well aware of the recurring patterns each year and can identify the early warning signs of an escalating crisis.

Begin preparations now to ensure we’re ahead of the curve.

The Dashboard Is Not the Delivery

Let’s start with something simple:

You can’t innovate your way out of a broken system.
There are moments when dashboards bring clarity, when ERP systems sync logistics and finance, when automation saves time, cost — and maybe lives. Digital tools have opened doors long stuck. And for that, yes, we should be clear-eyed and grateful.

But here’s the problem: we stopped there. We celebrated the tool and skipped the transformation.

In our rush to digitize, we mistook adoption for design, and visibility for impact. We uploaded dysfunction into sleek platforms. We rolled out systems before fixing structures. We chose speed over learning. Convenience over change.

And now? Digital bloat is the new compliance trap.

INGOs have become a case study in how NOT to implement ERP systems. The workflows beneath them are broken. Dashboards don’t reflect reality because the data behind them is incomplete — or meaningless. And in the country office, no one really knows how or why they’re entering it.

The truth? People are still using hard copies and printed forms even when they use digital tools.

Project teams? Planning on whiteboards — because it’s faster.
Finance teams? Double-checking everything in Excel — because they don’t trust the system.
Procurement team? Doing the documents twice, one offline and another online.

ERP systems? Decorative at best, frustrating at worst.

And AI? It won’t fix this. Without clean data, without purpose, it’s just slides with better fonts.

We’ve fallen in love with the aesthetics of transformation: dashboards, Power Apps, machine learning pilots, flashy interfaces. But under the hood? It’s fragile. Overworked staff. Clunky systems… No ownership. No trust. Why? Because data became another compliance task — not a shared asset.

People disengaged. They entered the bare minimum, clicked through the platform, and prioritized real work over clean inputs.

The result?

We didn’t simplify — we scaled the mess.
Here’s a “small c” cut worth coding in with no restart needed:

Keep in mind:
TECHNOLOGY ISN’T THE PROBLEM. TRANSFORMATION IS.
It’s not about how fast you roll out a tool; it’s about taking the time to fix what’s broken underneath. Train the people. Build trust in the process. Transformation isn’t the bonus in your digitalization roadmap — it’s the core work.

Map your process. Cut what’s not needed before you automate what you might not need at all. Then test the tool — over and over. Let real users try it across countries, regions, job roles, and tech literacy levels. If it doesn’t work for them, it doesn’t work.

It’s okay if some tools are implemented in some locations but not others. Countries aren’t the same — and sometimes, you still need offline tools.

Ask: What’s the logic behind the dashboard, not just how nice it looks? Does it actually help? Is the data clean, or just a flashy BI report that doesn’t reflect reality?

Pick up your phone. Call another INGO. Ask what happened with their ERP system implementation. What they learned. What not to do. Keep contact with others who’ve gone through the journey.

And remember: transformation isn’t in the tech — it’s in the trust you build with the people using it.

Support Functions Are Strategy Too

Did Finance, HR, Supply Chain, IT, Safety, or Admin ever ask to be left out of the strategy room? Of course not. But somehow, in many INGOs, they’re always invited last — after the ambition, after the headlines, after the promises have already been made.

We build strategies that talk about innovation, impact, and delivery — then forget to include the people who actually make those things possible.

And the result? Broken systems dressed up as bold direction. Budgets that look good on slides but fail on the ground. Staffing plans that ignore operational complexity. Programs that don’t account for safety, access, or even the basic infrastructure needed to implement them.

Here’s a “small c” cut that should never be optional: Bring support functions in from the start. Not just to cost a budget or sign off on a procurement timeline — but to co-design. To name what’s fragile. To challenge what’s unrealistic. To translate ambition into something deliverable.

Because Finance isn’t overhead. HR isn’t a checkbox. Supply Chain isn’t logistics noise. Safety isn’t just compliance. IT isn’t just about platforms. They are the nervous system. And without them, nothing moves.

They don’t just support the work.

They make the work possible.

Decentralization Is Not Delegation

Tasks go down. Power stays up.

Let’s stop pretending. Most INGOs say “decentralization” — but what they actually do is delegate.

It’s strategy language wrapped around outsourcing. HQ keeps the power. The field gets the work.

Country teams — sometimes even regional ones — are told to implement, adapt, report. But they don’t own. They don’t decide. They wait. They escalate. They operate inside frameworks they didn’t design and can’t change.

And when things get stuck? It’s the teams closest to the crisis left holding the responsibility — without the authority.

Here’s a small c cut worth dropping into your next strategy doc: If you’re serious about decentralization, transfer the power with the task.

Decentralize Tasks. Decolonize Power.
Do a decision audit. Who decides what, and why? Who signs off? Who actually owns the outcome? Strategically, move real authority closer to the field — especially for programs, budget, and contextual strategy.

And don’t stop at people. Shift the tools. Shift the risk tolerance. Because if you want your strategy to be agile, grounded, and real, it has to live where the complexity is.

Exit Strategy: Not Everything Needs a Grand Opening — Some Just Need a Decent Goodbye

We show up. We scale. We position. We expand.

We’ve built a sector that romanticizes opening a new office, expanding, and positioning an INGO in a country.

But exits? They barely get a paragraph in the proposal — only because it’s a mandatory section, not because we truly mean it.

And when the grant ends, we vanish. Or we scramble to get another one.

Communities are left with half-running services and uncertain futures.

And when we do get the extension? It feels less like sustainability and more like dependency. Our presence becomes the plan, and our expansion becomes the goal of the strategy.

I’ve done it too. I landed in places thinking: grow the portfolio, strengthen the position, raise the flag, lead the clusters. I built a reputation on expansion and portfolio growth — and yes, I even bragged about it in interviews and on my CV. But looking back? I didn’t build systems that could stand without us. I built ones that needed us to stay. Forever.
Here’s a “small c” — one most strategies skip:

Plan the exit before the entry. Design for departure — not abandonment.

Exits aren’t failures. They’re milestones of maturity.
Budget for transition. Build local systems like you actually plan to leave. Define success not by how long you stay, but by whether they still stand after you’re gone.

Systems Don’t Deliver — People Do

We talk about vision. We talk about ambition. And we spend months shaping strategies around goals, frameworks, and impact. But too often, we forget the one thing that actually delivers it all: people.

Staffing in INGOs is still treated as admin — not strategy.
Vacancies sit open for weeks — sometimes months. Contracts are short and uncertain. Training budgets are the first to go. Local professionals are brought in late — or not at all. International professionals? We stretch them to the edge, work them nonstop, then bring up “well-being” only during interviews — when we ask, “How do you manage stress?”

And we act surprised when staff resign. They say “looking for new challenges” or “personal reasons,” while hiding the real message: I’m burned out. I’m micromanaged. I’ve hit a ceiling. You don’t invest in me. I’m expired in this INGO.

Country management teams? More like unicorns — expected to deliver, strategize, expand, ensure quality, and somehow not burn out.

Regional offices? Often the pressure sandwich — squeezed between HQ expectations and country realities, translating both while being blamed by all.

We say we want to “focus on staff well-being in our strategy,” yet we keep building systems that exhaust them, then roll out new strategic initiatives without ever considering their capacity or workload.

The result: Strategies stay. People leave. Along with them: trust, continuity, momentum.

Here’s a small c cut that’s long overdue:

Say it clearly — people are our most valuable asset.

Say it loud — no system, strategy, or impact exists without the people who carry it.

Before writing your next strategy, ask: Are your people equipped to deliver this? If not, don’t fake it. Build a plan to support them, or rewrite the ambition.

You Can’t Be Strategic If You Can’t Say No

If everything is a priority, nothing is.

But too often, strategy in INGOs becomes a wishlist. A buffet of ambitions. A compilation of everyone’s hopes, every donor’s expectations, and every buzzword from the online trends.

We end up with so many strategic objectives, new sectors to implement, cross-cutting themes, “strategic enablers,” and enough KPIs to drown a country office before it even starts implementing. Why? Because we don’t know how to say no.

We don’t say no to unrealistic donor demands. We don’t say no to legacy programs that no longer make sense. We don’t say no to new initiatives that duplicate existing ones, and we definitely don’t say no to the endless layering of complexity, reviews, and alignment tasks that get dressed up as accountability.

Instead, we write strategies that try to please everyone — and end up guiding no one.

My small c cut here is simple — for anyone in a leadership role: Prioritize. Say no. Strategically, clearly, and more often.

Conclusion: “Small c” Cuts, Real Strategy

We say strategy is about impact. About clarity. About guiding decisions that matter.

But if we’re honest? We’ve been designing strategies to impress donors and the public, then asking staff and communities to believe in them.

We build frameworks before we listen. KPIs before direction. Results matrices before testing whether the system — or the people — can actually deliver. Then we wonder why strategy feels disconnected, heavy, and slow.

That’s not strategy. That’s performance. And no one trusts a performance they weren’t invited to shape.
If we want strategies that actually work: Fewer promises. More focus. Real participation. Clarity on what we’re not going to do. Courage to name what no longer fits.

I’ve seen it: When strategy is stripped of performance and rooted in truth, people show up differently. They trust it. They shape it. They make it real.

So yes — change is possible. Not easy. But possible.

Some parts of this might feel uncomfortable, especially if you’re in an HQ role and not used to seeing strategy called out this directly. But that’s exactly the point. This paper isn’t about preserving comfort — it’s for those who care enough to reflect and want to do better.

And if you recognize what I’m saying and feel like you’ve been trying to change it but the system holds you back — this is for you too.

I write this as someone who has served in HQ, field, and regional roles — this isn’t critique for critique’s sake. It’s a call to integrity and efficiency. We don’t need a revolution or a “capital C” Cut to change the culture. We don’t need a dramatic overhaul to build efficient systems. We just need a few honest “small c” cuts — to how we strategize, how we design, and how we show up.

Strategy won’t be saved or implemented by another periodic review or a fresh injection of funding. It will be saved by rebuilding trust — trust with the teams who are asked to deliver it and with the communities it’s meant to serve.

My take: optimization — of purpose, of process, of power.
The future won’t be built by louder strategies. It’ll be built by quieter courage. That’s how strategy stops being a document, and starts becoming delivery.

Ali Al Mokdad