The phrase “fit for purpose” is simple enough. In the world
of products and services, something is fit for purpose when it does the job it
is meant to do. It doesn't have to be perfect, expensive, sophisticated or
traditional. It simply has to be suitable for the need it is intended to meet.
A small car may be perfectly fit for purpose for city
commuting, but not for towing a heavy trailer. A pair of shoes may be ideal for
walking around town, but completely unsuitable for climbing a mountain. That is
the heart of the concept. Fit for purpose is not measured by history,
sentiment, effort, pride or good intentions. It is measured by suitability.
Does it meet the need? Does it work for the people it is meant to serve? Does
it remain effective as conditions change?
That last question is where the concept becomes more
challenging. Something can be fit for purpose at one point in time and
gradually become less suitable as the world changes around it. Customer
expectations change. Technology changes. Costs change. Communities change.
Lifestyles change. Volunteer expectations change. What once worked well can
become inconvenient, unattractive or irrelevant if it is never reviewed. There
was a time when every home had a landline, every car had a street directory,
and every camera needed a roll of film. There was nothing wrong with those
things, but the world found a better way and moved on - and a device that could replace all of them.
Successful organisations do not simply ask whether they are still doing what they have always done. They ask whether what they are doing still fulfils the purpose they were created to achieve. That question is not an attack on tradition. It is a test of relevance. And Rotary is not exempt from that test.
A Rotary club exists to bring people together in service. It
should create friendship, purpose, leadership, community impact and connection.
Meetings, traditions, committees, meals, procedures and fundraising events can
all support that purpose, but none of them are the purpose itself.
That distinction matters because many clubs still measure
their health by whether they can continue the familiar routines of club life.
Can we still hold the weekly meeting? Can we still run the same fundraiser? Can
we still fill the board positions? Can we still find enough people to do what
we did last year? Those questions are understandable, but they are not enough.
The better question is whether those routines still help the
club achieve its purpose. Do they make Rotary easier to join, easier to stay
in, easier to promote and easier to partner with? Do they help the club serve
its community in meaningful ways? Do they give members a reason to feel
excited, useful and connected? If the answer is no, then the club may be busy,
loyal and well-intentioned, but it may no longer be fit for purpose.
But less than six months after that Rotary club closed,
Lions International launched a new club in the town with 35 members.
That changes the story completely. If another service club
could establish itself in the same town, under the same regional economic
conditions, then the issue was not simply that Lameroo could no longer support
a service club. The community still had capacity for service. It still had
people willing to join, contribute and belong. What it apparently could not
support was the version of Rotary being offered at the time.
That is the uncomfortable truth at the heart of the Fit for
Purpose concept. External factors may well have contributed to the closure.
Regional decline, drought, isolation and demographic change are real pressures,
and it would be foolish to pretend otherwise. But the Lameroo story shows the
danger of treating those pressures as the whole explanation. They can become
the mother of all assumptions, allowing us to avoid the harder and more
important question: What if the problem was not the community, but the product
on offer?
What version of a service club was Rotary asking people to
join? Was it flexible enough, visible enough, affordable enough and relevant
enough? Was it connected to the interests, expectations and availability of the
people who still wanted to serve their town? Or had the club become a version
of Rotary that only made sense to those already inside it?
I’m not about to criticise the senior Rotarians among our
ranks. They have carried Rotary for decades and continue to contribute
enormously. But I can and will criticise the mindset that has allowed us to
reach this point without confronting what it means. If a club’s culture,
meeting format, projects, language, social rhythms and expectations are built
almost entirely around the preferences of older existing members, we should not
be surprised when younger prospective members struggle to see themselves as a part of it.
That does not mean the community lacks volunteers. It may simply mean the
version of Rotary being offered is no longer fit for purpose.
Across Rotary South Pacific, we have lost well over 120
clubs in the past three years, and there are many more hanging by a thread
right now. We may lose as many as ten more clubs in the next week. Every closure has its own local story, and every club deserves to
have that story treated with respect. But I am willing to bet that very few, if
any, handed in their charter because their local community could no longer
sustain a service club. More likely, their communities could no longer sustain
the version of Rotary those clubs were offering.
That has consequences beyond the loss of a single club.
Every closure chips away at Rotary’s visibility, reduces our reach, weakens
confidence in our future and sends a message, fairly or unfairly, that Rotary
is retreating from communities where it was once a trusted presence. When a
club closes, the effect is not contained within the club. The wider Rotary
brand is affected. Other clubs nearby feel it. District leaders feel it.
Community partners notice it. Prospective members see it. Existing members begin
to wonder whether decline is inevitable.
As clubs close and membership numbers fall, districts
themselves become harder to sustain. Redistricting is never popular. No-one
enjoys seeing districts absorbed, bifurcated, merged or reconfigured. It
disrupts relationships, identity, history and familiar ways of working. But as
the number of clubs and members in each district declines, some form of
consolidation becomes inevitable. The result is often a larger geographic
territory with fewer clubs spread across it, making support, connection and
leadership even harder to maintain. In that sense, club failure does not only
weaken local Rotary presence; it also places pressure on the very structures
designed to support clubs in the first place.
When Rotary talks about membership decline, we often focus
on the one or two members who leave a club during the year. We worry about the
member who resigns because they are too busy, moves away, loses interest,
becomes unwell or quietly drifts from active involvement. Or dies. Those losses matter, because every
member matters, but they are not the full picture.
The more damaging membership loss occurs when clubs close
and take 10 or 15 members with them at a time. Our records suggest very few
of those members choose to continue their Rotary journey in another club. That
is the real membership crisis. Multiply that by more than 120 clubs and it is
not hard to see where much of our membership has gone.
When a club hands in its charter, Rotary does not simply
lose a meeting venue or a line on a district report. It loses a local identity,
community relationships, project knowledge, history, goodwill, partnerships and
visibility. It loses the people who were still willing to call themselves
Rotarians right up until the point their club no longer existed. Some may have
been tired. Some may have been ageing. Some may have been ready to step back.
But many were still connected to Rotary through the club they knew. When that
club disappears, their Rotary journey usually ends with it.
This is why club failure must be understood as a prominent
cause of membership decline. We say Rotary is needed more than ever. We say
people want connection and purpose. We say communities need service and
leadership. All of that is true. But if clubs continue to close, the public
evidence begins to point in the other direction.
That is why the Fit for Purpose program mattered. It was not
designed simply as a recruitment campaign, nor was it about finding a clever
slogan or a new way to ask people to join. It was about helping clubs look
honestly at the product they were offering: the Rotary experience itself.
For years, membership conversations in Rotary have focused
heavily on recruitment and retention. How do we bring people in? How do we stop
people leaving? Those questions are important, but they are downstream
questions. Recruitment and retention are outcomes. They are influenced by
something more fundamental: the attractiveness and perceived value of the
Rotary experience, and how effectively that experience is promoted to the wider
community.
In simple terms, membership is shaped by product and
promotion. If the product is weak, recruitment becomes difficult and retention
becomes fragile. If the product is strong but poorly promoted, the community
may never understand what Rotary has to offer. If both product and promotion
are strong, recruitment and retention become much easier. For years I heard
senior Rotarians say, “If everyone introduced one member to Rotary, membership
would double.” I have a visceral reaction to that over simplified narrative, because it
suggests we only have a promotion problem, not a product problem.
Clubs must ask difficult questions about themselves. Are we
meeting-centric or service-centric? Are we rigid or flexible? Are we formal or
welcoming? Are we exclusive or inclusive? Do we measure commitment by
attendance or engagement? Do we communicate our story openly, or do we remain
almost invisible to the community? Do we create meaningful opportunities for
newer members to shape the club, or do we expect them to simply fit into what
already exists? Do we listen to the community, or do we keep running the same
projects because they are familiar?
These questions go directly to whether a club is fit for
purpose. A club that is fit for purpose does not abandon its history, but it
refuses to be trapped by it. It understands that meetings should support
service, not become the main purpose of the organisation. It recognises that
time, cost and format matter. It reduces friction. It gives members ownership.
It listens to its community. It invests in visibility. It builds partnerships.
It understands that relevance is not something achieved once and kept forever.
It must be continually earned.
Having spent so many years analysing Rotary’s purpose, I
have recently found myself considering my own. A passion for membership
development through club improvement has shaped much of the last decade of my
Rotary life.
Ten years ago whilst serving as District 9520 Membership
Chair, I helped get the Rotary Club of Seaford off the ground. That experience
mattered deeply because it proved something I had believed for a long time:
Rotary could still attract contemporary volunteers if we were prepared to offer
them a more contemporary version of Rotary. Seaford Rotary was not built around the
assumption that people needed to adapt themselves to Rotary. It was built
around the idea that Rotary needed to present a more flexible, service-focused
and relevant experience to people who still wanted connection, purpose and
community impact, but who were unlikely to be attracted to the traditional
aspects of club life. That club became, in many ways, my proof of concept.
I can distinctly remember at the time concerns raised in neighbouring clubs
that the new Seaford club would steal their prospective members. If the product
on offer at those clubs was sufficiently attractive, they would have had
nothing to fear.
Over time, my own purpose in Rotary became clearer. I was not simply interested in membership numbers. I was interested in helping Rotary become more attractive, more flexible, more relevant and more honest about the experience it was offering. That purpose eventually led me to the Rotary South Pacific Membership Portfolio Team, where I took on the role of Chair of Club and Cultural Transformation. In many ways, it felt like the opportunity I had been preparing for over many years. It should have been energising, and at times, it was. There were wonderful people involved. There were brilliant ideas. There were clubs that embraced the challenge and proved meaningful transformation was possible.
That contrast sums up much of the experience. There were
clubs that grabbed the opportunity and clubs that retreated to the comfort
zone. There were moments of encouragement, but there was also exhaustion. In
this senior zone role, I constantly fought systemic barriers, competing
agendas, unnecessary interference and the frustration of trying to deliver
membership strategy in an environment that did not always seem prepared to let
membership people get on with membership work. I expected the fight against
comfort-zone thinking, but I was not ready for the fight against egos. The dominant narrative throughout this pilot was that membership was the number one priority. But in my experience, the walk rarely matched the talk.
For a long time, I pushed through that frustration because
the work mattered to me. I had spent years saying Rotary’s membership decline
was not due to a lack of knowledge, but a lack of will. So, I kept trying to
bring knowledge, structure, resources and urgency to the problem. But somewhere
along the way, something changed. Only recently have I properly understood it.
For years, Rotary membership development was not just
something I did. It gave me purpose. I would have described it as passion,
commitment, frustration, ambition or a desire to help Rotary become what I
believed it could be. All of that was true, but beneath it sat something more
personal. I can see now that Rotary had been filling a purpose void in my life, one my working life had never been able to satisfy.
For a number of years, I ran a small business that
struggled. I lost a lot of money, and with it, a lot of self-esteem. Then I
took a job that paid the bills, but did little more than that. It provided
income, but not much fulfilment. It did not fill my cup. It did not give me
much sense of progress, influence, creativity or purpose. But Rotary did. Rotary
gave me a platform, a problem worth solving, and a sense that my ideas
mattered.
In mid-2024, I found myself in an untenable position at that
workplace after a new owner took over the business. There was a disturbing lack
of integrity on display that I could not turn a blind eye to. I lasted a week
and walked out without the safety net of another job to go to. At the time, it
felt risky, uncertain and deeply uncomfortable. The job had been providing
security, but not fulfilment. I tolerated it, but rarely enjoyed it. Security can keep you in place long after you know something is no longer good
for you. It can make the familiar feel safer than it really is, and the
unfamiliar feel more dangerous than it may turn out to be.
I was unemployed for the first two months of the pilot, but
eventually landed what has become the best job I have ever had. For the first
time in decades, my paid work began giving me a genuine sense of purpose. I
felt valued, useful, challenged and trusted. I had better people around me,
better opportunities ahead of me, better pay, more flexibility, and a future I could actually see
myself growing into. Looking back, walking away from that previous job was one
of the smartest decisions I have ever made. I would not be where I am today professionally
had I not first made the difficult decision to leave something familiar but no
longer fulfilling.
I failed to recognise it at the time, but my purpose was evolving. That
realisation has helped me understand my changing relationship with Rotary,
especially beyond the club level. For many years, Rotary was the place where I
went to feel that my ideas, energy and effort could make a difference. When my
working life did not provide enough fulfilment, Rotary became the outlet. I
poured myself into club building, writing, speaking, strategy and
transformation because that work gave me meaning. But as my working life has begun
to fill that space, the cost of Rotary frustration has become harder to
justify.
The unnecessary battles felt heavier. The obstruction felt
more pointless. The resistance felt more draining. The politics felt less
tolerable. Not because Rotary mattered less, but because I no longer needed
Rotary to meet the same personal need. That is an important distinction.
I still believe in Rotary. I still believe in the need for
cultural transformation. I still believe clubs must become more flexible,
relevant, inclusive, visible and service-centred if they want to survive. I
still believe the Fit for Purpose message matters. But I no longer feel the
same need to keep pouring myself into systems that seem determined to resist
the very change they claim to want. That is not bitterness. It is clarity.
Purpose is powerful, but it can also be consuming. When a
person finds purpose in a cause, they will tolerate frustration, absorb
disappointment and keep going long after logic tells them to stop. For years,
that was me. Rotary membership development gave me a reason to keep pushing.
Now, with more purpose in my working life, I can see the Rotary journey with a
little more distance. Perhaps that distance is healthy, because it allows me to
ask the same question of myself that I have been asking Rotary clubs to ask of
themselves: what is my purpose now?
For a club, being fit for purpose means understanding what
it exists to do and shaping its culture, structure and activity around that
purpose. Is personal purpose much different? If my purpose in Rotary was once
to throw myself into membership development because that was where I found
meaning, then I need to be honest enough to recognise when that purpose has
shifted. I can still contribute. I can still share what I have learned and
support clubs and leaders who genuinely want to change. But I do not need to
keep fighting every battle, swimming against every rip, or proving that I care
by exhausting myself.
Perhaps that is the personal lesson sitting beneath the
organisational one: purpose should guide where we place our energy, not simply
demand that we keep giving more of it. That same lesson applies to Rotary
clubs. A club needs to understand its purpose before it can become fit for
purpose. If it has clarity about what it exists to do, it can shape its meetings, culture,
projects and member experience around that purpose. Rotarians need to
understand their purpose too, because when purpose is clear, we know what deserves
our effort, what we should keep carrying, and what we may finally need to put
down.
Fit for Purpose is not just about whether Rotary clubs can
survive. It is about whether they are still organised around the purpose they
were created to serve. It is about whether they are willing to change the way
they operate so their purpose can remain alive in a changing world. The same is
true for people. We need purpose. We seek it in work, family, community,
service and causes larger than ourselves. But purpose must be honest. It must
be life-giving, not life-draining. It must help us become more useful, not
simply more exhausted.
For Rotary, the challenge is clear. We cannot keep asking
communities to support a product that no longer fits their lives. We cannot
keep treating membership decline as a recruitment problem when so much of it is
a relevance problem. We need clubs that understand their purpose. We need clubs
that are fit for purpose. And we need Rotarians who are willing to ask,
honestly and courageously, whether the way we are operating still serves the
people, communities and future we claim to care about.
My senior zone leadership role concludes on June 30. It's time to hear different voices and perhaps go in different directions. My own Rotary Club of Seaford needs me, and that is where my Rotary energy needs to go. I will never say never. I do not know what Rotary holds for me in the future. I am grateful for an international network of friends I would never have met had I not been willing to throw myself into Rotary beyond club level.
I hope I've made a difference, but right now, I need to step back.















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