How Do We Know Our Work Is Actually Working: Theory of Change

Is our work actually working?

Not on paper, and not in the report we send our funder, but actually working, on the ground, right now, for the people it is meant to serve.

Not to say that the intervention for which we had requested the Funds haven't been spent on interventions designed for the end-users. But, were the interventions sustainable and usable for the end-users for the long term period?

Could we say why, in a way someone outside our organisation would find convincing? If the funding stopped tomorrow, would it still be standing in five years? If we stepped back completely, could we explain clearly what would keep running, and what would not?

Most of us can answer one of these questions. Very few can answer all three. That gap is not a failure of effort. It is usually a gap in the tools we use to think about our own work.

This is exactly the gap a theory of change is meant to close. Once we have one, though, a second question follows. How do we know it is actually true?

To ground both questions in something real, let us follow one organisation through this piece: the Tribal Health Initiative, or THI, which began as a single clinic in a remote valley in Tamil Nadu in 1993, when infant mortality there stood at 147 per 1,000 live births.

By the end, we will also have a simple worksheet to run this same check on our own work.

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What is a Theory of Change?

Strip away the jargon, and a theory of change is a clear, honest explanation of how we expect change to happen, and why. It is not a summary of what we plan to do. It is an argument, written down in plain terms, for why doing it should actually lead somewhere. That argument has parts, and each part answers a distinct question.

The problem statement names exactly what is broken, and for whom, specifically enough that someone could check whether the description is accurate. A vague statement of need does not count. For example: "The Lambadi community of Sittilingi valley has almost no access to healthcare, and infant mortality stands at 147 per 1,000 live births" is the problem statement.

The end-user is the person or group whose life is actually meant to change, not a broad category but a defined group we could point to. For example: "The Lambadi community of Sittilingi valley" is the end-user, not "rural India" in general.

The desired outcome is a described scenario, something we would recognise if we saw it, not just a line on a report. For example: "Mothers survive childbirth, infant deaths fall sharply, and families trust local care enough to use it instead of delivering at home" is the desired outcome.

The intended solution is what we propose to do about the problem, and it should address the cause, not just its visible symptom. For example: "A small clinic, sited and built where the community itself chooses, working alongside existing healers and travelling doctors rather than replacing them" is the intended solution. When THI's founders arrived, healthcare already existed in the valley in another form, in shamans and in doctors who travelled between hamlets by motorcycle. Rather than competing with either, the clinic referred cases it judged more psychosomatic than physiological to the local shaman, and coordinated with the motorcycle doctors so a patient could finish a course of treatment at home instead of losing wages travelling back and forth. That single choice, working with what already existed instead of displacing it, is a good example of what "intended solution" is supposed to mean.

Activities and outcomes are what we actually do, and what we expect to see change as a result, first in the short term, then across further rounds as we learn. For example: "Train local women, chosen by village elders, as health auxiliaries" is a first-round activity, and "infant mortality falls, and maternal deaths become rare" is its outcome.

A theory of change is rarely finished after one round. A decade into THI's work, an internal review turned up something the original plan had not accounted for. Health outcomes had improved, but the underlying poverty driving migration and family stress had not moved. So a second round began, built on farming and craft-based livelihoods rather than healthcare alone. What started as a pilot with four farmers converting half their land to organic methods grew, over several years, into a farmer-run collective with several hundred members. A separate initiative around traditional embroidery, started with ten women and a small loan, grew into an independent producer group with several hundred women earning from their own craft.

Every part of a chain like this is really a bet. A trusted local clinic will raise survival rates. Survival alone will not be enough without income security. A second round, built on farming and craft, will make the first round's gains hold. Writing a theory of change means writing these bets down plainly, so that when something is not holding, we know exactly which one to look at again.

This is why a theory of change is not the same as a workplan. A workplan says what to do and by when. A theory of change says why we believe doing it will actually lead somewhere, and what would have to be true for that belief to hold.

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But a Good Story Is Not the Same as a True One

A theory of change can be written clearly, sound completely reasonable, and still be wrong, or only half true.

It is easy to check whether a clinic got built, or whether a farming pilot started. It is much harder to check whether everything around those activities can keep running without the people who started it personally holding it together. Are local staff actually capable of running things day to day, or are they simply present while someone else makes every real decision? Is a livelihood initiative a real, income-generating collective, or a project that survives only because someone keeps subsidising it? Does trust rest on a system that would survive a change in leadership, or on specific individuals who will not be there forever?

Most evaluations stop at the easy question. Did the activity happen? Very few look closely enough to answer the harder one. Is any of it actually standing on its own?

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A Simple Way to Check What Is Really Holding Things Up

In 2021, the DOEN Foundation commissioned an external evaluation of the SELCO Foundation and the ecosystem approach it has built over more than a decade. Two researchers, Dr. Chintan Vaishnav and Dr. Anurag Panda, ran into exactly the problem we have been describing: SELCO's supporters could see that its ecosystems were working on the ground, but struggled to explain clearly why, or to anyone outside the room. So the evaluators built a simple tool called the Eco-scope Matrix to check it properly. It is worth borrowing here, because it works on any theory of change, not just SELCO's. The idea behind it is simple. A theory of change describes a destination. The Eco-scope looks at the ground we are actually standing on, by asking five plain questions about the people holding the work up.

What needs to exist for this to work? Not the activities on our plan, but the basic things the situation genuinely requires. For THI, that means trained caregivers reaching remote hamlets, a way for livelihood initiatives to actually earn income rather than depend on subsidy, and some form of local governance that keeps decisions accountable to the community.

Who is doing each of those things right now? For THI, day-to-day healthcare runs through three tiers of locally recruited staff, health auxiliaries chosen by village elders, health coordinators managing chronic disease registers, and senior nursing staff running the wards. The hospital itself is governed, day to day, by a Working Committee of senior nurses, lab technicians and administrative staff, who hold a real financial sanction and make operational decisions without routing them through the founders. Naming who is actually doing the work, honestly, shows exactly where a plan is still leaning on its founders instead of standing on its own.

How many people or groups are doing it? If care still depended on two founding doctors, it would be one illness or one retirement away from collapse. Instead, the farming collective alone now counts several hundred certified members, and the craft initiative several hundred more. That kind of spread is what lets a system absorb a shock instead of folding under one.

Does each of them have their own good reason to keep doing it? The farming collective is not a subsidised scheme. When an international buyer tested its turmeric against a long list of quality parameters, it passed every one, and the collective paid its own members meaningfully more per quintal than the open market was offering. That is a real business reason to stay, not a favour being done for anyone.

How solid is the relationship between them? This is where the clearest proof point in THI's story shows up. Years into the work, a senior nurse from the hospital stood for election as head of the local elected village council, ran on a platform of refusing bribes and cash-for-votes, and won. That is not a role granted by the founders. It is a position the community handed her through its own formal, competitive process, one that will outlast whoever holds it next.

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How We Can Build This Worksheet for Our Own Work

We do not need special software or training to run this check. A single page, or even the back of an envelope, is enough. Here is how we can build it.

Step one: list the functions, not the activities. Write down what the situation genuinely requires to work, separate from what our organisation happens to be doing right now. For a livelihood programme, this might be financing, training, a route to market, and a way to resolve disputes. For a health programme, it might be trained care, a way to reach remote areas, and a source of household income. Keep each function to one plain sentence.

Step two: for each function, name who is doing it today. Be specific. Write an actual name, not a category. "The community" is not an answer. "A Working Committee of senior nurses and administrative staff" is.

Step three: count how many. If the honest answer for a function is "just us" or "just one person," write that down plainly. It is not a failure to admit it. It is the most useful thing the worksheet can tell us.

Step four: ask if they would keep doing it without us. This is the question we are most tempted to skip, because the honest answer is sometimes uncomfortable. Would this actor still show up if our funding, our staff, or our presence disappeared tomorrow? Write yes, no, or not yet.

Step five: check how formal the relationship is. Is there a written agreement, an elected role, a contract, something that would survive a change in who holds it? Or does it depend on one person's goodwill and presence? Write down which one, honestly.

Here is what that worksheet looks like, filled in for THI, roughly three decades into its work.

Function needed	Who does it today	How many	Own reason to continue	How formal
Deliver day-to-day healthcare	Health auxiliaries, health coordinators, and senior nursing staff, all recruited locally	Three tiers of local staff, built up over decades	Yes, it is their paid profession within the hospital	Formal, salaried clinical roles
Run the hospital's daily operations	A Working Committee of senior nurses, lab technicians and administrative staff	One committee, holding its own financial sanction	Yes, they make real operating decisions without needing founder approval	Formal, an internal governance body with real authority
Generate farm income	A farmer-run organic collective with its own elected committees	Several hundred certified members	Yes, sells produce at a real premium over market rates	Formal, elected committees with rates set and posted openly
Generate craft-based income	An independent producer group of women artisans	Several hundred members	Yes, earns from exhibitions and direct orders	Formal, registered as an independent producer entity
Keep local governance accountable	An elected village council, once led by a hospital nurse as its head	One elected body, refreshed through regular elections	Yes, an elected mandate with its own public accountability	Formal, a democratically elected government position
Reach remote hamlets	Travelling doctors and local healers, working alongside the hospital	Several, each already established in the community	Mixed, some had an independent role before the hospital ever arrived	Partly formal, partly resting on long-standing community trust

Notice what the sheet does that a story alone cannot. It shows, function by function, exactly where the system now stands on its own, and exactly where it still rests on relationships built early. The last row is the most honest part of the sheet. Not everything has become fully formal, and that is worth naming rather than smoothing over.

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Why This Changes What We Do Next

A theory of change and this worksheet are answering two different questions, and we need both. The theory of change tells us where the work is trying to go, and why we believe the path will get us there. The worksheet tells us whether the ground underneath that path can actually carry the weight, right now, today. A theory of change can be entirely well reasoned and still be resting on ground that has not caught up yet.

THI's own worksheet, filled in decades into the work, shows a system that has largely caught up. The hospital runs on a local committee, not its founders. The farming and craft collectives generate real income of their own. Practices like exclusive breastfeeding and regular antenatal checkups are now simply what people in the valley do, without anyone needing to keep reminding them.

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The Next Round Should Close a Specific Gap

This also changes what "the next phase" of a theory of change should actually contain. It should not simply mean more of the same activity. It should directly address whatever the check revealed was missing.

THI's own history has a clean example of this outside healthcare entirely. During a severe drought, the organisation built dozens of new check dams to restore the water table. The water table rose, exactly as intended. But farmers responded by shifting toward a highly water-intensive cash crop, an outcome the original plan had not anticipated. The next round was not simply "build more check dams." It was addressing the new gap the first round had exposed, in this case by working on lower-water alternative crops that could offer comparable income. That is the pattern worth carrying into any theory of change we build. We look at where our own worksheet shows a gap, and let that, not habit, decide what the next round should be.

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The Simple Version

A theory of change is our clearest current explanation of how change happens, and why. It is not proof. It is a starting claim.

The worksheet above is how we go check it, by asking what needs to exist, who is really doing it, how many of them there are, whether they have their own reason to keep going, and whether their arrangements are formal enough to last without the people who started it all.

A theory of change that cannot answer those questions honestly is not yet describing a working system. It is describing a hope, carried by people working harder than the plan admits. Checking properly is how we find out which one we actually have.

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A Reflection

Everything above reads THI's story backwards. We already know how it turned out, so the pattern looks clear, almost inevitable, laid out three decades later. This is, in hindsight, how we are connecting the dots. But if we were transported back to Sittilingi valley at that juncture, would we have been able to see it unfold the way it has right now?

That question does not undo anything the worksheet shows us. It simply reminds us that a theory of change is written forward, into genuine uncertainty, even when the story we tell about it afterward reads like it could not have gone any other way. It is a question worth carrying with us, and one we will return to.

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Try It for Yourself

Think of a theory of change you are currently working with. Not the version that reads well in the proposal. The one you actually believe, right now, about how the change is meant to happen.

Now ask: who is actually holding this up? Who is doing each part of the work today, and would they keep doing it if you stepped back? How many of them are there, and does each one have a real reason of their own to continue, or only your reason? How formal are the relationships between them, and how much of it still runs on your own presence, your own funding, your own phone calls?

The worksheets below are a theory of change chain and an Eco-scope. One lays out the argument you are making about how change happens. The other checks whether the ground underneath that argument can actually hold. No right answers. No correct format. Just an honest attempt to write down what you believe, and then check it against what is actually true.

Start filling them in. See what surfaces.

And if something in the worksheet raises a question, or if you want to think through your own theory of change with us, write to us at info@centreforsystemspractice.org. We would love to hear what you are working on. You can also explore the Eco-scope Matrix tool and try applying the process directly on the website.

The Centre for Systems Practice is a SELCO Foundation initiative. If this piece was useful, our newsletter goes out every month with one piece of practical thinking from the field.