As a young student in South Africa, Donald Pols was involved in a far-right student movement which opposed the ANC. This was reported this week by NRC and was subsequently widely covered in the Dutch media.
I don't want to downplay this. Apartheid was a criminal system. The far right was dangerous then, just as it is now. Anyone who ever aligned themselves with it must be held accountable.
And yet this is no article about the young Donald Pols . Nor is it about whether a person can change. They can. Thank goodness.
I met Donald Pols. From my interactions with him, he struck me as a a man of integrity . A progressive man. Someone with his heart in the right place. Not a fascist. I don't think he's an opportunist who would just trade his convictions for a better position either.
That makes his story more interesting. And more painful.
Because in addition to that recent revelation, there was, of course, the earlier uproar: Pols left Milieudefensie to director of Sustainability to join Tata Steel. Milieudefensie immediately distanced itself from that decision, precisely because Tata Steel is a company that the environmental movement has been pressuring for years.
Many people saw betrayal .
Above all, I see a question that goes far beyond Donald Pols: what happens when someone from assumption about change changes?
“Many people saw it as a betrayal. I mainly see an issue that goes far beyond Donald Pols.”
How do you think change happens?
Anyone who works for a civil society organization has an answer to that question—usually without even realizing it.
How is the world changing?
By organizing citizens? By applying pressure? By filing lawsuits? By sitting down with ministers? By convincing the elite? By building better alternatives ourselves? By getting people to change their behavior one by one?
Those aren't details. Those are assumptions about change .
An assumption of change is different from a strategy. A strategy tells you what you’re going to do. A theory of change explains how your actions lead to impact. An assumption of change lies beneath that. It is often a semi-conscious belief in how social change actually takes place.
And that trust isn't something that comes from a strategic memo.
It grows. Through the books you read. The people you hang out with. Your first protest. Your first defeat. The teacher who plants an idea in your head. The protest where you suddenly realize: there are more of us than I thought. The meeting where you discover that power is sometimes just an Excel file with budget lines. The anger at injustice. The frustration that, after years of effort, still far too little is changing.
Assumptions seem rational. They are often emotional as well.
“An assumption about change is often a semi-conscious belief in how social change actually takes place.”
From Pressure to Closeness
Environmental activism is often based on a few clear assumptions.
One: organize people . Form groups. Train citizens. Turn supporters into leaders. Help people realize that they can build power together.
Two: increase the cost of continuing as before . This can be achieved through street protests. It can be achieved through civil disobedience. It can also be achieved through strategic legal actions. In that case, a lawsuit is not just a compliant step within the system. It can be a powerful form of pressure. It slows things down, forces transparency, puts administrators under pressure, and exposes where power normally hides behind technical jargon.
Three: win the Story . Encourage people to start looking at what is normal, reasonable, and achievable in a different way.
It was through this approach that Milieudefensie grew strong—through campaigns, members, local groups, legal strategy, and public pressure. Donald Pols became the face of this approach.
His move to Tata Steel seemed to be based on a different assumption: to entice and convert the elite . In that case, you believe that change comes about by getting close to those in power. You work with the existing elite. You use moral, economic, legal, or technical arguments. You try to convince influential people to do the right thing.
That's possible. Sometimes it's even necessary.
But here's the thing: it's a different game.
Anyone who has believed for years that change comes from external pressure will feel a bit out of place when the leader suddenly says that real change might come from within. The rank and file then hear something other than a new job. They hear a different worldview.
That's why it felt like a betrayal.
“The rank and file want to hear about something other than a new job. They want to hear about a different worldview.”
The table changes the way you see things
I see the same thing in many organizations.
They are starting out as a volunteer organization. The premise is clear: citizens will support the change . We need to organize them, train them, educate them, and build their confidence. This can involve climate action, nature conservation, homework assistance, poverty alleviation, culture, healthcare, peace, or human rights. In this context, a volunteer isn’t just an extra pair of hands. That volunteer is the movement.
Then the organization grows.
Funding is on the way. Grants. Funds. Major donors. Paid staff. An office. Policy papers. In-depth knowledge of the issues. Consultation meetings. The organization gets a seat at the table.
At first, it feels like a victory. Finally, they’re listening. Finally, ministers, companies, and government agencies have to take on board what has been shouted from the rooftops for years. Finally, you have access to the places where decisions are made.
And then something subtle happens.
If you sit at the table long enough, you’ll discover that the other side is made up of people, too. People with children, doubts, a sense of humor, fatigue, and sometimes even genuine concern. The enemy turns out not to be a cartoon character. That insight is human. It’s also dangerous.
Because proximity to power changes your perception of change .
You start to think: if I speak their language better, if I understand their limitations, if I make the right business case, if I don’t come on too strong, if I gain their trust, then maybe they’ll budge. The assumption shifts. From building power to persuading through power. From organizing conflict to protecting relationships. From applying pressure to maintaining access.
No one likes to call it that. We’d rather say we’re maturing. Becoming more professional. More constructive. More strategic.
Sometimes that's true.
Sometimes it's just fatigue.
“Proximity to power changes your assumptions about change.”
Not every phase requires the same logic
Still, we must be careful not to draw a lesson that is too simplistic.
An organization doesn’t have to stick to its initial assumption forever. That would be foolish. Social issues evolve. An issue that no one acknowledges requires different tactics than one that enjoys widespread support. In the early stages, you often have to disrupt the status quo, raise awareness, organize conflict, and push an issue onto the agenda. Later on, consultation, policy work, or institutional anchoring may become the logical next steps.
Strategic Maturity means that you're willing to adjust your assumptions when the situation changes.
Strategic Naivety it starts when you think the phase is better than it actually is.
That happens often. An anti-poverty organization sees a study showing that 80 percent of the population considers poverty a problem, and thinks: we’re almost there. But acknowledging the problem doesn’t mean supporting the solution. Many people think poverty is a serious problem. That doesn’t necessarily mean they support strict rent control, a massive increase in public housing, higher benefits, or tax redistribution.
That's a different question.
And taking it a step further: even broad public support does not mean that those in political or economic power are willing to make concessions. This is especially true when real change affects ownership, profits, production, land, labor, or budgets.
That’s where things often go wrong. Organizations gauge the sentiment within their own bubble, mainly hear from people who are already on board, and confuse recognition with support and support with power. Then they move too quickly toward consultation, elite influence, or policy work. Not because they’re bad at it. But because they hope the long road will finally get shorter.
Life is short. Social change takes an agonizingly long time. Anyone who doesn't feel desperate about that from time to time probably hasn't been paying close enough attention.
“Strategic naivety begins when you overestimate the situation.”
A leader is not a change logic
That is why we also need to talk about leadership.
A leader of a civil society organization has a lot on their plate. The mission. The people. The finances. Political relationships. Criticism from outside. An impatient membership. Slow-moving institutions. Their own doubts.
I can relate to that. I, too, have moments when I think: What’s the point of it all? How much longer are we going to keep making the same analyses, fighting the same battles, and facing the same powers?
That feeling is only human. It becomes dangerous when one leader’s frustration begins to dictate the logic of change for an entire organization.
That is why organizations shared ownership need to reflect on their assumptions about change. Boards, executive teams, staff, volunteers, and the rank-and-file must be able to discuss together: What do we actually believe in? Do we think change comes through organizing? Through mass mobilization? Through policy work? Through procedures? By convincing the elite? By building alternatives? By changing the narrative?
And above all: why do we think this assumption is appropriate for this phase of our topic?
Leadership in the context of social change also requires timely renewal. Not because leaders are suspect. Because the work is demanding. Because frustration builds up. Because no one should be allowed to become the sole strategic driving force of an organization.
An organization is entitled to a level of steadfastness that transcends the mood, fatigue, or hopes of its director.
“An organization is entitled to a level of steadfastness that transcends the mood, fatigue, or hopes of its director.”
Explore Your Hidden Faith
If you’re facilitating a strategic planning process today, serving on a board of directors, leading a team, volunteering, or—as a member—feel that your organization is starting to move in an unfamiliar direction, don’t just ask the usual questions.
What is our mission? Who is our target audience? What are our goals? What actions are we planning?
Ask this question as well:
What assumption about change underlies our strategy?
Do we believe that citizens themselves must build power? Do we believe that a professional civil society should defend interests? Do we believe that institutions can be improved? Do we believe that the elite can be persuaded? Do we believe that we must first challenge the dominant narrative? Do we believe that we must build alternatives ourselves?
And then:
Do the board, the team, the volunteers, and the supporters actually believe the same things?
Many strategic conflicts aren’t about personalities. Nor are they about “resistance to change”—that favorite cliché of people who don’t feel like listening more carefully. Often, they’re about conflicting assumptions.
One wants to sit down at the table because he thinks the time is right. The other wants action because she sees that those in power aren’t budging an inch. One wants constructive language because access is fragile. The other wants strong language because otherwise the base will drift away. One sees maturity. The other sees capitulation.
They could both be right. Just not at the same time, without talking it out.
“Many strategic conflicts aren't about personalities. They're often about conflicting assumptions.”
Call us before you lose each other
This is why we at S&L like to work with the model of the assumptions about change . It brings to light what often remains hidden. It puts strategic conflict into words. It helps directors, staff, volunteers, and boards understand why they sometimes lose sight of one another even though everyone claims to be serving the same mission.
Especially when your organization is growing. When volunteers drop out. When you suddenly find yourself sitting at the very tables you used to protest against. When your supporters are grumbling. When your strategic planning process is stalling. When you sense that people don’t just want different tactics, but actually believe in a different path to change.
Then give us a call.
Not because we have the right answer to the question of how the world is changing. There is no such answer. But because we can help bring the underlying assumptions to light, examine what stage your issue has actually reached, and work with you to determine which approach to change is most likely to succeed at this point.
Donald Pols is merely the catalyst for that.
The real question lies with all of us.
What do we actually believe in when we say we want to change the world?
