Some of the hardest development challenges are not difficult because institutions are absent. They are difficult because the institutions already in place are deeply trusted.

That was the challenge we encountered while exploring alternative education pathways for Talibé children in Senegal. From the outside, the issue appeared straightforward: children living on the streets deserved safer, more supportive educational opportunities. Yet beneath that sat a much more complex reality. For generations, daaras (Quranic schools) have played a central role in Senegalese society, shaping not only religious education but identity, belonging and community life. They continue to command a level of trust and legitimacy that formal institutions alone cannot replace.

Working alongside educators, religious leaders, government officials and communities, it became clear that we were not simply exploring alternatives to education. We were trying to understand how change becomes possible when the existing system continues to hold legitimacy in the eyes of the people it serves.

Looking back, three observations from that experience have continued to shape how I think about institutional leadership.

Institutions rarely change until they understand what people are trying to protect.

Early conversations often framed the challenge as choosing between traditional religious education and formal schooling. Communities saw something different. They spoke about faith, identity, belonging and the values they wanted their children to inherit.

It became clear that resistance was rarely about preserving a particular model of education. It was about protecting institutions that represented something much deeper.

Institutions often struggle to introduce change because they respond to visible structures before understanding the values those structures exist to protect.

Reform succeeds when it protects what people value.

The conversations that moved furthest were never about dismantling the daara system. They focused on how children's wellbeing could be strengthened while respecting the role religious education continued to play in families' lives.

That distinction changed the nature of the work.

Progress became possible when reform was understood as strengthening what communities already valued rather than replacing it with something new.

Institutions create far greater change when they build on existing legitimacy instead of competing against it.

Lasting change begins with understanding why a system survives.

The longer we spent listening, the clearer it became that the persistence of the Talibé system could not be explained by tradition alone. It continued because it fulfilled needs that formal institutions had not fully addressed — from religious education and social belonging to access, affordability and trust.

The leadership challenge therefore was not asking how to replace the system, but understanding why it had endured for so long.

Before deciding what should change, institutions must first understand what keeps the existing system alive.

Looking back, I realise these observations were never really about education in Senegal. They were about how institutions approach change when the systems they hope to improve already hold deep legitimacy. Whether working with governments, foundations or communities, I've found that lasting change depends less on designing better alternatives than on understanding what people value before deciding what should evolve.