For many, this is a reflective time of year. After the madness of the Holidays subside, we find ourselves looking back on the year that was and making plans for the one just dawning. 2018 marks my 15th year as a non-profit professional and as such it’s a natural time for me to take stock of the professional path I have chosen.
But there’s just one problem. Strictly speaking, fundraising isn’t a profession. And a general distrust of the practise persists among the general public, often putting fundraisers on the defensive about our work and our impact.
In order to begin to change the paradigm of the skeptical public and eradicate the cliché of the ethically questionable fundraiser, I suggest we start by understanding more about this “profession” of ours. Fortunately, there’s a book for that.
Published last fall, The New Fundraisers by Beth Breeze is an exploration of those who organize charitable giving in contemporary society. Breeze, based at the University of Kent, is one of a number of academics who believes that Philanthropic Studies is an important, though heretofore neglected, area of scholarship. Her own background as a fundraiser affords her a genuine curiosity and respect for those who have dedicated themselves to this work.
Breeze’s aim is to offer “an explanation of what fundraisers do, what kind of people are good at doing it, and why it matters”; the book came about partially in response to reactions from family and friends that made it clear to her that fundraising was not a desirable line of work, despite the satisfaction that she derived from it.
One of the great dichotomies that Breeze identifies lies between how fundraisers are perceived by others and their own experience of the profession, which she finds to be overwhelmingly positive. [It should be noted that since the 2015 Olive Cooke incident, the charitable sector in the U.K has been under attack; those of us in Canada will likely have experienced varying degrees of acceptance for what we do.]
Breeze points out that virtually all interest in philanthropy, both academic and popular, has centered on donors, with little mention of those who facilitate philanthropic acts. And yet, we fundraisers know that giving rarely happens without asking, which research confirms. This Forbes article celebrates a $165M gift to The Nature Conservancy that will preserve of the last stretches of wild California coastline. The donors were profiled and thanked, as they should be, but there was no mention of organizational leadership, Board leadership or fundraising leadership that surely had a hand in guiding this landmark gift. I say this not because I think we need celebrity fundraisers to match our celebrity philanthropists, but because I believe a greater understanding of the value of our profession could lead to greater respect for our work.
Breeze first reviews the history of fundraising in the U.K., then presents findings of her survey of over 1200 U.K. fundraisers, which considers the traits and behaviours of those engaged in major gift fundraising specifically. Of note: fundraisers are significantly more trusting than the general public (51% of those surveyed believe that “most people can be trusted, compared to just 22% of the general population); also, we apparently like choral singing in our spare time. In the second half of the book, Breeze explores both the art and science of fundraising and, finally, tackles in detail the question of the legitimacy of fundraising as a profession.
Breeze’s readers will no doubt recognize themselves in her portrait; nevertheless, it is validating to see that academic research can back up much of what we know through instinct and experience. Breeze believes that the “continuing lack of a verifiable, agreed body of knowledge, the absence of widespread formal qualifications, the emphasis on experiential learning, the frequent involvement of volunteers and the lack of public recognition of fundraisers’ experience” undermine claims regarding the professionalization of fundraising. Ultimately, she posits that fundraisers may be best understood as a type of creative professional, comparing us to writers and architects. Breeze quotes creative cities guru Richard Florida:
”These people engage in creative problem solving, drawing on complex bodies of knowledge to solve specific problems. Doing so typically requires a high degree of formal education and thus a high level of human capital….they are required to…think on their own, apply or combine standard approaches in unique ways to fit different situations, exercise a great deal of judgement, and perhaps even try something radically new from time to time.” (Florida, 2012, p.39).
Sound familiar?
With my own history of involvement in the arts, along with my years of balancing the art and the science of fundraising, I found Breeze’s conclusion intriguing and not at all dissatisfactory. In fact, part of the reason that I am drawn to fundraising is that I do experience it as a creative endevour. The New Fundraisers reinforced my pride in my chosen profession and also gave me a greater understanding of why a general distrust of professional fundraising persists (a topic for another time).
Leading into 2018, my intent is to continue to contribute to the conversation about what it means to be a professional fundraiser in Canada, and consider how we can work towards gaining greater understanding of and trust for our work. I encourage you to seek out this important book and decide for yourself if Breeze’s depiction of a fundraiser matches your own professional self-portrait, and how you too can contribute to a greater understanding of what we do.
Juniper Locilento, CFRE is the Director of Annual Giving, Operations & Strategy at the YMCA of Greater Toronto. She is currently enrolled in the Master of Philanthropy and Nonprofit Leadership at Carleton University and serves on the Board of the Association of Fundraising Professionals, Greater Toronto Area. Prior to becoming a professional fundraiser, Juniper aspired to a career as an opera singer, graduating from the prestigious University of Toronto Opera School.
