In the world of social change, international development, and philanthropy, there’s a curious contradiction – we talk all the time about sustainability, yet rarely about leaving. Exits are awkward. They are often seen as failures, endings, or signs that something has gone wrong. Funding dried up, priorities shifted, a partner underperformed? But what if we reframed the idea entirely? What if the ability to exit (strategically, with dignity, and on mutual terms) is one of the most honest measures of impact?
To design for exit is to reject the logic of permanence. It’s a deliberate act of humility, to recognise that our presence should not be the condition upon which good things continue to happen. Thought leadership needs to change to treat exit not as a wrap-up exercise, but as a principle established right at the foundations of your work. It needs to be one that challenges extractive norms and redistributes power when needed.
Why We Don’t Talk About Exit
The way many impact initiatives are structured assumes we’ll be here forever, that the project continues because we do, not because it can. Success is frequently measured in how long an organisation has operated in a place, rather than in how meaningfully it has enabled local ecosystems to thrive without it.
This logic is rooted in a deeper legacy: colonialism, paternalism, and extractive capital. The idea that outsiders must stay to ensure progress is both seductive and deeply flawed. It suggests that local capacity is always in need of guidance, that systems can’t evolve without external validation, and that control should be indefinitely retained, just redistributed more “responsibly.” But presence can become a dependency and sustainability without exit is often just disguised control.
The Politics of Presence and the Ethics of Leaving
To leave well, we have to reimagine what it means to be useful. Not as experts who transfer knowledge, but as facilitators who nurture conditions for emergence, regeneration, and ownership. We need to move away from being architects of permanent structures and change our mindset towards becoming temporary contributors to a living ecosystem. In many cases, staying too long becomes counterproductive. It often crowds out local leadership, as well as delays the difficult but necessary transitions to self-determined governance. Furthermore, it reinforces the idea that expertise, funding, or legitimacy must come from elsewhere.
A strategic exit means transforming the terms of engagement. We want to shift from a central actor to a quiet ally. Move away from being an implementer to an amplifier or from leader to listener. What actually becomes possible when you stop being needed?
Designing for Exit
To design for exit, is to work backwards from irrelevance. It means that from day one, the project is being shaped with the knowledge that the external actor will, and should, eventually leave.
This requires a few things. Shared authorship is needed to build tools, strategies, and structures with, not for, communities. Ownership must be local. We need to not train people to use systems you created, but create systems that can evolve without you. We need to create timelines that reflect context, rather than based on funder cycles. Exits have to be meticulously planned but also remain responsive. And, we need any documentation (this can be manuals, roadmaps, and decisions) to be transparent and accessible.
Exit as a Form of Care
Much of what we know about strategic exit doesn’t come from mainstream development, but from efforts that are often less recognised. Feminist and mutual aid movements have long practiced collective leadership, fluid roles, and cyclical engagement. Indigenous governance systems often operate on intergenerational stewardship, with the knowledge being passed forward, not locked in institutions. Solidarity economies and grassroots cooperatives design for local control from the start, through embedding methods of distributing resources, credit, and accountability.
These are not just alternatives. They are antidotes to a dominant model that privileges scale, permanence, and external validation. They remind us that leaving is part of life — and, when done well, part of justice.
The Problem with Perpetuity
So many initiatives claim to be “sustainable,” but structure themselves to last forever often unintentionally. This happens a lot in philanthropy where funds resist exits because they fear the backlash reputationally. The grantees themselves struggle to exit because they have been structurally starved of unrestricted funding or political backing. And from a consultants position, they are incentivised to design systems that require their continued presence ( = they have continued paid work). Perpetuity becomes a survival strategy. But, what if instead we asked a series of questions, such as…
- Who stands to benefit if we leave?
- Who might grow into leadership if we step down?
- What systems might flourish if we stopped managing them?
- What if there is a better way of doing things than how I have been?
- What feedback are we ignoring because it threatens our relevance?
- How have we built local capacity, and where are the gaps?
- Are we replicating the same hierarchies we claim to dismantle?
- Is it time to honour the work by knowing when to step away?
Exit is not Abandonment
Obviously, not all exits are good. Harmful exits happen all the time, especially in crisis contexts, where funding is pulled without warning, projects collapse, and communities are left worse off. Abrupt, unaccountable departures are a form of violence. But strategic exits are different. They are planned, which include timelines, are co-created and revisited regularly to ensure they it is up to date and relevant. It is not an after thought, it is something which may even exist before most peoples arrival at the company or organisation. Strategic exits given real support for the transition, which includes funding, mentoring and documentation. And of course, they are built on trust and communication. No strategic exits will occur without knowledge or suddenly. Yoy do not need to just disappear, that is not very strategic. The goal is to become less central, less directive, and more supportive.
What if Exit was a Measure of Success?
“What will continue that no longer bears your name?”
To leave well is to let go of authorship, and to leave behind the curation of a supposed legacy (but was that why you were involved in the first place?). You now need to trust those that you have worked with all this time, and they will likely take the work somewhere new. Probably in a way that you would never have thought of, and you know what? That is a good thing.
Difference is needed. A fresh set of eyes can breathe life into systems in ways nobody realised were needed. There is so much power in knowing when to leave, when to let go, when to exit. We do not need to leave in a hurry. We do not need to leave only when forced out… when the budget runs dry, when the energy is gone, when the funder shifts priorities, or when burnout makes the decision for us.
We can choose to leave intentionally, from a place of clarity, preparation, and generosity. A strategic, supported exit allows space for others to lead, to adapt, to build something different. It gives room for the work to evolve. To exit well is to say “This is not about us”.
Leaving well – with intention, care, and trust – might be one of the most meaningful acts of accountability we can offer.
