The most dangerous word in the community sector

Changing a mission statement did more than clarify our purpose. It changed who listened.

At the Hydrocephalus Support Association, it became something of a running joke that I wanted to remove the word "support" from the organisation's mission statement. The obvious problem, of course, was that the word appeared in the organisation's name.

I have now been involved in developing new mission statements in two different volunteer organisations and, in both cases, I found myself making the same argument. It wasn't because I thought support was unimportant, quite the opposite. Support is often the reason these organisations exist in the first place. The problem is that support describes an activity, not an outcome.

Several years earlier, while serving on the board of the Australian Multiple Birth Association, we held a strategy day that changed the way I thought about volunteer organisations entirely. At the time I was still working in technology and had borrowed a strategic planning approach that I had seen used successfully in the corporate sector. Like many ideas I brought back from my professional life, I wasn't entirely sure whether it would translate to a volunteer board. It did.

By the end of the day there was a level of clarity, energy and motivation that I had not previously experienced in a volunteer-run organisation. The conversation had moved beyond events, memberships and activities and into a much bigger question: what problem were we actually trying to solve?

For many years AMBA had described itself primarily as an organisation that supported multiple birth families. This was true, but it was also incomplete. Families with twins, triplets and higher-order multiples face increased medical risks, higher rates of premature birth, greater mental health challenges, limited understanding from health professionals and, quite often, systems and services that do not adequately recognise their circumstances. The more we discussed these realities, the more it became apparent that support was only one part of a much larger picture.

Eventually, we developed a new mission: To enable positive health outcomes, awareness and equality for multiple birth families through advocacy, education and community.

What struck me at the time was not simply that the statement sounded better. It went beyond what we were doing and explained why we existed. That in itself was a fundamental shift in translating activities into a story that people outside the organisation could understand and attach to. The difference became particularly obvious at our National Convention in 2018, where we launched the new mission and values framework. To demonstrate the change, the board performed a role-play involving an expectant family of multiples approaching an AMBA stand at a baby expo. In the first scenario, volunteers attempted to explain the organisation as we traditionally had. The conversation quickly became complicated. We were a national body, made up of affiliated clubs but local clubs operated independently. Families needed to identify their catchment area, locate the correct club website and complete separate membership processes. Although entirely accurate, the explanation was confusing and focused almost entirely on organisational structure.

The second scenario began differently.

"AMBA is Australia's leading charitable national support organisation for families with twins, triplets or more. Our mission is to enable positive health outcomes, awareness and equality for multiple birth families through advocacy, education and community." The audience understood it immediately. They were madly scribbling on their notepads and taking photos of the large screens in the room to capture the wording.

Importantly, the message did not only work for families. It worked equally well for health professionals, government representatives, sponsors, funders and journalists because it described outcomes rather than activities. It explained why multiple birth families mattered, what challenges they faced and what the organisation was trying to change. Over time, this shift opened doors that had previously felt difficult to access. AMBA began receiving greater attention from media and government. I attended meetings with ministers at Parliament House. I was invited as a guest on podcasts. I spoke at conferences. Sponsorship conversations became easier because we were no longer asking organisations to support a volunteer group; we were inviting them to contribute to measurable outcomes for families.

One year we secured a sponsorship of $15,000 for our national convention. Previously, sponsorships of around $3,000 had been considered significant achievements. The difference was not that we had suddenly become better fundraisers. Rather, we had become better at explaining why our work mattered.

Years later I found myself having remarkably similar conversations at the Hydrocephalus Support Association. Again, there was a community that had been built around support and connection. Again, there were people living with experiences that extended well beyond the support group itself. The resulting mission focused on enabling inclusion, informed experiences and improved health pathways through connection, advocacy, education and research.

The pattern was difficult to ignore.

Volunteer organisations often describe what they do rather than the change they exist to create. They run support groups, hold meetings, provide information and connect people with one another. All of these things are valuable, but they are mechanisms rather than purposes. They explain activity without necessarily explaining impact. Families join because they need support. Funders invest because they want outcomes. Governments respond to problems that require solutions. Health professionals engage when there is evidence of unmet need. Sponsors look for organisations that can clearly articulate the difference they make.

The challenge for many organisations is not that they lack purpose; it is that they have become so accustomed to describing their activities that they have stopped describing their impact. All the things still matter - Support still matters. Community still matters. Connection still matters. The difference is that they are no longer the destination. They are the means by which an organisation achieves something larger.

Looking back, I do not think the most important work we did was writing a mission statement. The important work was learning to describe ourselves differently. Once we stopped talking primarily about what we did and started talking about the outcomes we hoped to create, other people began to understand why our organisations deserved a seat at the table.