Tuning the heart of change: why the engine behind the mission matters

For many years, I have worked alongside non-profit organisations across Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Caribbean, and the Pacific.

I have sat with leaders in boardrooms and community halls, under trees and in crowded offices, during moments of hope and moments of crisis. Across these very different contexts, I keep hearing the same quiet concern.

The mission is strong.

The people are committed.

Yet the organisation feels tired.

I have seen passionate teams slowly lose energy, not because they no longer believe in the cause, but because the way their organisation is structured makes everyday work unnecessarily hard. Systems are heavy. Decisions are slow. Reporting demands pull attention away from communities. Over time, energy turns into exhaustion.

This is the experience that led me to write The Engine Behind the Mission: Re-imagining Non-Profit Operating Models in the Global Majority. I wanted to shine a light on the part of our organisations we rarely talk about, but which shapes everything we do, the operating model.

The invisible engine we ignore

In the social change world, we talk a lot about purpose. We invest time refining our mission statements and strategies. We celebrate impact stories and innovations. But we often overlook the how of the organisation, how decisions are made, how power is shared, how money flows, and how people experience work on a daily basis.

I often describe this using a simple image. Your mission is the destination. Your strategy is the route. But the operating model is the engine under the bonnet. If that engine is misaligned or outdated, you will struggle to move forward, no matter how clear the destination is.

Many non-profits in the Global Majority are running on borrowed engines. Their structures have been inherited from colonial administrations, donor compliance systems, or corporate models designed for very different realities. These models were often created to control, replicate, and report upward, not to adapt, learn, and serve communities.

Over time, this creates fragility. Teams operate in constant reaction mode. Leaders spend more time managing compliance than shaping direction. Staff burn out, not because the mission is too demanding, but because the internal systems do not support the work.

Growing on foreign soil

One of the central ideas in the book is what I call the problem of “borrowed blueprints”. There is a quiet pressure in our sector for organisations to look and behave the same, regardless of context. This pressure is often framed as “best practice” or “capacity building”.

But what works in one context does not automatically work in another.

To challenge this, I use the metaphor of the Living Plant. I invite leaders to imagine their organisation not as a machine, but as a living organism. A healthy plant grows from its own soil. That soil carries history, culture, struggle, relationships, and wisdom. Growth is shaped by climate and terrain. A plant that thrives in one place may wither in another.

In this metaphor, the operating model is how the plant breathes and functions day to day. It is the silent architecture beneath every visible result. When organisations are rooted in their own soil, they develop strength, resilience, and adaptability that cannot be imported.

Reclaiming organisational sovereignty

Re-imagining the operating model is not just a technical exercise. It is an act of organisational sovereignty. It is about reclaiming the right to decide how we structure, govern, and measure our own work.

Too often, non-profits are told, directly or indirectly that legitimacy comes from copying external models. Over time, this erodes confidence and local agency. Leaders begin to doubt their own instincts and lived experience.

Decolonising the operating model does not mean rejecting accountability or learning. It means rejecting the assumption that one model fits all. It means designing systems that align with values, people, and purpose, rather than constantly bending the organisation to meet external expectations.

From survival to rhythm

I was careful not to write a book that only critiques. Leaders are already carrying too much. What they need are practical tools that make sense in their reality.

In The Engine Behind the Mission, I offer simple, grounded frameworks to help organisations move from survival to rhythm. Tools that help leaders create alignment instead of fragmentation, flow instead of constant urgency, and resilience instead of exhaustion.

One of the most important shifts I discuss is leadership. Leadership cannot remain a rare title held by a few people at the top. In complex and fragile environments, this is risky. Leadership must become shared. It must live in teams, in middle managers, in programme staff, and in finance offices.

When leadership is distributed, organisations become steadier. They do not collapse when one person leaves. They become systems-strong and people-powered.

A companion for the journey

This book is not a manual. It is a companion. It is written for leaders who are tired of holding broken systems together with personal sacrifice. It is an invitation to pause, reflect, and design organisations that feel alive, grounded, and fit for the future.

How we grow matters as much as what we grow.

Trying to build lasting change using borrowed models is like navigating a dense forest with a map of a distant city. You may be determined and well-intentioned, but if the map does not reflect the ground beneath your feet, you will walk in circles until you are exhausted.

My hope is that The Engine Behind the Mission helps leaders stop simply surviving and start designing. The future of social change depends not only on our missions, but on the strength of the engines that carry them forward.