The Untouchables

Most people don’t really think about NGOs — and why should they? They assume these are organizations based on good deeds. Helping people. Doing the right thing. And that may very well be the intent. Most people working inside these organizations probably believe they’re helping.

But intent isn’t results.

When you step back and look at the time, money, and resources thrown at NGOs over decades, the return just isn’t there. The problems these organizations were supposed to reduce — poverty, displacement, humanitarian collapse, homelessness — are still here. In many cases, they’re worse. That’s when you stop asking what they meant to do and start asking what actually happened.

And the fastest way to see the truth isn’t theory. It’s failure.

If something works, it leaves evidence behind. If it doesn’t, the failure shows up loud and clear.

Start globally — where NGOs had everything going for them. Haiti is the clearest example on the planet. Tens of billions of dollars in aid over decades. Thousands of NGOs operating at the same time. NGOs didn’t just support the government — they replaced large parts of it.

What’s Haiti today? No stable government. No lasting infrastructure. Permanent dependency. Escalating violence. Even people inside the aid world openly called it “the Republic of NGOs.” If decades of money and nonstop presence can’t produce basic stability, that’s not complexity. That’s failure.

Afghanistan tells the same story. Twenty years of NGO programs layered on top of massive international funding — schools, civil society initiatives, governance training, women’s programs, endless reports claiming progress. Then the money and protection stopped. The entire system collapsed in days. Nothing durable was built. Nothing stood on its own. If a system disappears the second outside money dries up, it was never real to begin with.

Look at migration routes next — the Mediterranean, Central America. NGOs say they exist to “save lives,” but as NGO presence expanded, crossings increased, smugglers adapted, journeys became more dangerous, and death tolls stayed high or rose. When more funding and more presence line up with more volume and more risk, intent stops mattering. Results do.

Different countries. Different crises. Same outcome.

Now bring it home. Los Angeles spends over a billion dollars a year on homelessness. Tens of thousands still live on the streets. Entire neighborhoods are overwhelmed. In some years, hundreds of millions allocated weren’t even spent. More nonprofits. More administrators. More outreach. More tents.

San Francisco spends around a billion dollars a year on homelessness and related services — roughly $70,000 or more per homeless person per year — and the streets still show addiction, untreated mental illness, and encampments everywhere. That’s not underfunded. That’s not working.

New York City spends over $4 billion a year on shelters and homeless services. Tens of thousands cycle through “temporary” housing every night. An entire nonprofit ecosystem exists to manage homelessness, not end it. If this were a private contractor, they’d be fired and sued. Instead, contracts renew.

At this point, the pattern should be impossible to ignore. Global or local, the same thing keeps showing up: no real oversight. Oversight today means checking boxes — making sure money was spent where it was supposed to go, reports were filed, meetings were held. What it does not mean is asking the only question that matters: did the problem actually get smaller?

There’s no failure threshold, no shutdown point, no penalties when outcomes get worse. In the real world, if you fail year after year, you lose your job. In the NGO world, failure gets rebranded as “greater need,” and the budget grows. That’s not complicated. That’s a system that rewards staying alive, not fixing anything.

Which leads to the obvious question: who benefits financially from all this failure?

The NGOs themselves, for one. Many modern NGOs are multi-million or billion-dollar institutions heavily funded by governments and international bodies. They operate like permanent organizations tied to permanent crises. When problems continue, funding renews, budgets expand, staff stays employed. When problems end, funding dries up, programs shut down, jobs disappear. Even with good intentions, the system rewards continuity over resolution.

Then there’s executive and upper management pay. At large NGOs, it’s common to see executive directors earning $200,000 to $500,000 or more; senior program directors earning $150,000 to $300,000; finance and operations chiefs earning $180,000 to $350,000 — plus travel budgets, relocation allowances, pensions, and post-retirement consulting — all while running organizations that can fail for decades with no shutdown point.

Failure also feeds a consultant and contractor economy: assessment writers, outreach contractors, legal and compliance firms, data specialists, PR teams — many earning six figures on contracts renewed year after year. These people aren’t paid to end crises. They’re paid to service the system around them. End the problem, and the invoices stop.

Governments benefit too. NGOs provide plausible deniability and moral cover. Leaders can say, “We funded organizations to address the issue,” without owning the outcome. When it fails, the excuse is always ready: it’s complicated. Accountability disappears.

Academia benefits. Chronic problems generate grants, studies, panels, conferences, advisory roles. A solved problem kills funding pipelines. So the language shifts from ending problems to studying them — from fixing to managing.

Media benefits. Crisis sells. Failure drives clicks, outrage, donations, and nonstop content. A solved problem isn’t news. A permanent disaster is.

None of this requires bad people. It only requires a system where money keeps flowing, jobs stay safe, and no one pays a price for failure.

Here’s the truth that ties everything together: NGOs are held accountable for how money is spent — not for whether problems are solved. That’s the flaw. Everything flows from that.

Bronx translation: if billions get spent, decades pass, the problem grows, and nobody gets fired — you’re not looking at bad luck. You’re looking at negligence.

This isn’t anti-help. It’s anti-lying. Real compassion fixes problems. It doesn’t manage them forever. When failure is obvious, repeated, and ignored, the blame doesn’t stop with NGOs. It lands on the governments and institutions that keep signing the checks and looking the other way.

That’s not good intentions gone wrong.
That’s negligence.

Sources & Public Records

HUD Annual Homeless Assessment Reports; LA City & County Homelessness Budgets; San Francisco Controller’s Office Reports; NYC Department of Homeless Services Data; UNDP Haiti Governance Reports; World Bank & SIGAR Afghanistan Reports; IOM Migration Data; Reuters, AP, ProPublica

John F Lorne