The real history, the archival record, is much more nuanced and complex. The story has no heroes or villains, nor a clean narrative arc. It is also inseparable from the broader epic of American history that created it and that, in turn, it helped create. 

The story begins with America’s preeminent industrialist Henry Ford and his son Edsel (Edsel II’s grandfather). In 1936, with an initial gift of $25,000, Edsel chartered an independent philanthropy (unaffiliated with the Ford Motor Company) to further “scientific, educational, and charitable purposes, all for the public welfare.” 

After Edsel’s untimely passing in 1943, and then Henry’s subsequent passing in 1947, Edsel’s son Henry II then fully endowed the independent institution with their bequests, transforming it into the largest foundation in the world.

During the eight decades since, the foundation has given some $80 billion (adjusted for inflation) to support human dignity, human rights, and human potential—opportunity, equality, and justice—all around the globe.

This is in addition to the Ford Motor Company Fund, now Ford Philanthropy, the corporate foundation that Henry II established in 1949. Funded with Ford Motor Company profits, it too has distributed billions of dollars in grants to a wide range of organizations and communities in Michigan and more than 30 countries.

In 1976, Henry II famously resigned from the Ford Foundation’s board of directors, making front-page news in the major papers of the day. As the prevailing account held, he found the foundation’s work and culture to be too imperious and unaccountable. (At the same time, though, he always maintained his “positive feelings” about the institution’s “significant contributions” and defended its “magnificent record of achievement.”) This began a 40-year pause in the relationship between the family and the independent foundation.  Some might even call it a divorce.

And yet, when the City of Detroit, Michigan, faced its historic bankruptcy in 2013, the time for re-engagement had long since arrived. And so, together—company, family, and foundation—we joined forces, all constituents within a wide coalition, to help resolve the crisis while protecting the community’s institutions, workers, and families.

In the decade since, the Ford Foundation has fully recommitted to its hometown, its sister Ford-family institutions, and surrounding communities, providing nearly $380 million of investment. And in 2019, the foundation’s board appointed Henry Ford III (Edsel II’s son) as a trustee (the first Ford to serve in this capacity since Henry II’s resignation), officially beginning a new chapter of this century-old story.

We are proud of our extraordinary rapprochement. Today, the past is now past, at long last. In all candor, the foundation’s reputation suffered because of the saga—and some of the family felt alienated from its legacy. We cannot change any of this.

But in another sense, our shared history drives our shared vision for a shared future—for Detroit, for Michigan, for America, and for the kind of market system and democratic capitalism that the Ford name and Ford Foundation have always signified.   

After all, among Henry Ford’s many innovations was the American middle class—and a nation in which workers could buy the products they built. And it was Henry Ford II who challenged us all to recognize the mutuality between America’s economic system and its robust philanthropic sector.

“The foundation is a creature of capitalism,” Henry II argued in 1977, and thus, it must embrace its “obligations” to “strengthen and improve its progenitor.” Alongside the Ford Foundation’s mission to promote “the public welfare,” this charge informs and inspires its work to address inequalities of all kinds to this day.

Of course, other elements of our shared story are instructive, too—especially in this volatile, uncertain, polarized period.

For one, we’ve proven that we can resolve differences when we affirmatively decide that the values that bring us together are more important than the old slights and grievances that divide us.

The family and foundation are no monoliths.  We do not, and could not, agree on every single issue, Both encompass a wide range of perspectives on the challenges and opportunities ahead.  And yet, we also know, we need not agree on everything in order to forge partnership and progress where possible.

Ultimately, all of this reflects our place in—and our pride in—that broader American story: Our faith in and fidelity to this nation we love; our enduring responsibilities to the communities to which we belong; and our belief in a philanthropic pluralism that represents the diversity of America while reinforcing our democratic capitalism.

As ever, change is the one constant in life. Times change, perspectives change, priorities change. But we believe that strong families and strong institutions—and in our case, strong bonds between the two—bring steadiness amidst the swirling winds. We each are better for our renewed partnership with each other.

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