Are we really surprised?
Of course not. What we are looking at is not an accident, not a deviation, not a regrettable outlier. It is a business model—refined, tested, and replicated with remarkable efficiency.
Create a non-profit.
Wrap it in the language of virtue, grievance, or moral urgency.
Apply pressure—on governments, on corporations, on anyone sufficiently exposed to reputational risk.
And somewhere in the background, find a patron. A donor. A benefactor with interests that are not quite as charitable as the letterhead suggests.
Do their bidding.
In return, receive financial stability and a level of social status that would make many corporate executives quietly envious.
It is elegant, in its own way.
And entirely removed from what the legal concept of a non-profit was ever supposed to be.
The original idea behind non-profit associations was almost quaint by today’s standards. Groups of people with a shared concern or a common objective needed a way to organize themselves into a single legal entity. A structure that allowed them to speak with one voice, to act collectively, to engage with institutions that would otherwise ignore scattered individuals.
That was the purpose.
The “non-profit” designation was not some decorative label. It carried a very specific meaning: no shareholders, no distributed profits, no extraction of financial gain beyond what was necessary to sustain the organization’s activities.
It was meant to prevent precisely the kind of behavior we now observe.
But here we are.
Modern non-profits routinely pay salaries that would raise eyebrows even in the private sector. Generous compensation packages, expense accounts, perks that hover somewhere between the official and the conveniently unreported. Cars, travel, influence—wrapped in the comforting language of advocacy.
Let us not pretend this is anything other than profit distribution in a different costume.
If large sums of money flow into an organization and substantial portions of that money end up enriching the individuals running it, then the distinction between “non-profit” and “for-profit” begins to look rather theatrical.
A legal fiction.
And legal fictions, when stretched far enough, tend to collapse under their own absurdity.
If it looks like profit, behaves like profit, and enriches like profit, then perhaps it should be treated as profit.
Which leads to a rather uncomfortable but entirely logical conclusion.
Organizations that operate in this manner should not enjoy the protections and privileges of non-profit status. They should be reclassified as what they effectively are: commercial entities.
Corporations.
Enterprises.
And not merely for tax purposes.
If individuals within these structures enjoy the financial upside typically associated with business activity, then they should also bear the corresponding risks. That is the bargain at the heart of capitalism: reward comes with exposure.
At present, many of these actors enjoy the best of both worlds.
They extract significant financial benefits while remaining insulated from meaningful downside risk. No shareholders to answer to. No personal liability when things go wrong. No real exposure beyond reputational discomfort, which in certain circles can even be converted into additional status.
That asymmetry invites abuse.
Correcting it would not require reinventing the legal system. The mechanisms already exist. If those who run such organizations effectively behave like owners—drawing substantial economic benefit from the enterprise—then treat them as such.
Make them shareholders.
Not limited shareholders sheltered behind carefully constructed corporate veils, but fully exposed participants. Individuals whose decisions carry consequences beyond the next press release.
Unlimited liability has a way of clarifying priorities.
It forces a degree of caution, of responsibility, of alignment between rhetoric and action that is often missing in environments where the downside is someone else’s problem.
One suspects that such a shift would produce an immediate and noticeable effect.
Some organizations would continue their activities, confident in their mission and willing to accept the risks.
Others might suddenly discover a more nuanced relationship with the causes they so enthusiastically champion today.
And a few might quietly disappear altogether.
Which raises a final, slightly uncomfortable question.
If the incentives were properly aligned—if personal risk matched personal reward—how many of these actors would still be quite so eager to engage in their current line of work?
It is an interesting thought.
One that, if taken seriously, might change the landscape rather more quickly than any number of reports, panels, or strongly worded statements ever could.