Same Space – Different Mandates
- Bain Dohne
- Dec 2, 2025
- 4 min read
I first came across the phrase “same space – different mandates” during my time in the Australian Defence Force, on a course with the Australian Civil–Military Centre.
The idea was simple but powerful: in the middle of a complex emergency – a natural disaster, a conflict zone, a humanitarian crisis – you’ll often find government agencies, the military, and NGOs all operating in the same physical space. They’re on the same ground, meeting some of the same people, often facing the same urgent problems.
But they’re not there for the same reasons.
Each organisation has a different mandate: different authorities, constraints, priorities, timelines and ways of working. When they misunderstand each other, it creates friction. When they respect and understand those different mandates, the whole response improves. Collaboration becomes possible. People are better served.
That concept has stayed with me ever since.
From crisis zones to lunch tables
Last week, I saw that same principle at work in a very different setting.
Australian Communities Foundation CEO Andrew Binns and his team hosted an end-of-year lunch for a group of philanthropists and foundation leaders. On the surface, it looked like any other gathering: good food, warm conversation, and people catching up before the end-of-year rush really takes hold.
But if you listened closely around the table, you could hear a familiar pattern.
Everyone in the room had their own reason for being there. Some were driven by a very personal story – a family experience, the tragic loss of a loved one, a community that has been severely impacted. Others were motivated by systems change, by wanting to shift the way entire sectors work. Some were focused on specific causes; others were still refining exactly where they wanted to direct their support.
Different backgrounds. Different levels of wealth. Different focus areas.
Different mandates.
And yet we were all in the same space – sharing ideas, swapping lessons and, importantly, listening. That matters more than it might seem at first glance.
Charity is more than “giving”
When we talk about charity, our language often gets stuck at the surface level.
The dictionary will tell you that charity is “the act of giving.” It’s technically correct, but it misses the point. Giving is the action. It’s what you do.
The real question is: what does that giving make possible?
To me, charity is about creating opportunity.
The opportunity for someone to live a little longer – or a lot.
The opportunity for a young person to get an education that changes their trajectory.
The opportunity for a community to rebuild after a crisis with more resilience than before.
The opportunity for a child to find their voice and, eventually, their place as a leader.
When we reduce charity to “writing a cheque” or “ticking the CSR box,” we strip it of its true power. The point is not that money moves from one bank account to another. The point is that someone’s future looks different on the other side of that act.
You, the donor, make that possible by enabling that opportunity to become a reality.
Wicked problems need shared tables
In civil–military coordination, we talk about “wicked problems” – challenges that are complex, systemic, and resistant to simple solutions. They don’t sit neatly in one department’s inbox. They cut across borders, sectors and generations.
The same applies in philanthropy.
No single organisation, however well-funded or well-intentioned, is going to “fix” youth mental health, civic disengagement, climate resilience, or educational inequality on its own. These are wicked problems by nature. They’re interconnected, and they push back against quick fixes.
That’s why spaces like the one ACF created last Thursday are so important.
Just as CIMIC (Civil–Military Cooperation) brings together different arms of government and NGOs to work through complex emergencies, ACF creates a space where charities, foundations and philanthropists can sit around the same table and compare notes.
We might arrive with different mandates, but if we’re willing to listen, we can find the overlap – the shared ground where collaboration becomes not only possible, but necessary.
Where Odyssey fits
The Odyssey Leadership Foundation is my way of carrying that lesson forward.
Our mandate is focused and clear: help young Australians speak with confidence and lead with integrity. We’re not trying to be everything to everyone. We’re not pretending to solve every social challenge in the country.
Instead, we’re concentrating on one critical leverage point: leadership and civics in the next generation.
If young people can’t speak clearly, think critically, or understand how decisions are made in their communities and country, then every other solution we build is resting on fragile ground. But if we can help them grow into confident, ethical, community-minded leaders, the ripple effects will extend far beyond our direct work.
That’s our mandate.
Others around that ACF table have different ones: medical research, climate, community housing, Indigenous leadership, arts and culture, and more. None of these competes with the others. In fact, they depend on each other.
You can’t sustain strong communities without a strong civic culture. You can’t maintain trust in institutions without visible integrity and accountability. You can’t solve local issues without local leaders who are able – and willing – to stand up and speak.
Different mandates, shared responsibility
The phrase “same space – different mandates” isn’t just a technical term from a civil–military handbook. It’s a reminder of how change really happens.
It happens when:
We recognise that our own mandate is part of the puzzle, not the whole picture.
We remain curious about what drives others to give, to serve, to lead.
We look for the overlap – the places where our separate missions intersect in service of the common good.
Wicked problems won’t be solved by one organisation, one foundation or one government department. They will be chipped away at by many of us, over time, choosing to work side by side, even when our mandates don’t match perfectly.
Last Thursday’s lunch was a small but powerful reminder of that truth. A room full of people, each with different mandates, sharing the same space – and choosing to aim their efforts in the same general direction: a future that is brighter than the past.
That’s a future worth working for. And it’s one I’m committed to pursuing, alongside anyone willing to pull up a chair at that table.
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