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Notes for
the by Paul Pribbenow, Ph.D. |
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Philanthropy is a journey. Let JGA be your guide. Johnson, Grossnickle and
Associates LLC
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Volume
Three, Number One (October 2001) ****** "What we have loved, others will love, and we will teach them how." (W. Wordsworth, from "The Prelude") NOTES FROM READERS >>What you think<< I trust and hope that
you all are well in these sad and distressing times.
The news today, as I sit to finish my Notes, is of our initial
military strikes in Afghanistan. Though
we all knew such action would come, it only confirms our sense that the
violence is not yet over—which must make us sad. This issue marks the
beginning of the third year of Notes.
Perhaps it is fitting to rekindle our commitment to reflection at
a moment when so much of our lives seems adrift.
We must model in our lives and work our abiding commitments to
thoughtful consideration of what we do and why.
Be strong and keep the faith. The last issue of Notes
elicited many responses—for which I am grateful.
There were two themes in those responses.
The first addressed my short essay about the dynamics of asking
for and giving help. Canadian
subscriber Ken Wyman concluded a moving narrative of his own experience
of facing need on the streets of Toronto with these words: “Short of a total
change in the social order, I expect to encounter street people for the
rest of my life. People who live and work in other neighbourhoods or
drive cars instead of using public transit may rarely have personal
contact, but only hear about the issue in the news or charity appeals. Is it enough to
sometimes give smallish amounts when asked? Or do we just mutter,
"The poor will always be with us"? How do we achieve a
total change in the social order? Just wondering.”
And so should we all, I think. Bob Fogal links our
responsibility to offer help with our vocations as professionals in the
philanthropic community, when he suggests: “Choosing to care for the
whole requires that we ask for help.
No room for solo performances here.
It doesn't matter if we are concerned for the whole self, the
whole community or the whole of humanity; we have to ask for help. One way to think of
ourselves as philanthropy professionals is that our vocation is to lead
others to accountability for the whole.
We ask for help in behalf of those who cannot.
(This can lead to a discussion about how much fundraising is
"true" philanthropy vs. institutional greed!)” Richard Swindle sums up
his helpful insights: “Obviously, we must be savvy in how we help
others. The key is to take the needs of our neighbors seriously, and to
know that our humanity is directly tied to theirs.
In the end, we are richer for giving, even when our neighbor’s
motives might be questionable. The
tragedy would be to detach ourselves so much from the needs of those
around us that we lose a sense of our own need.” The second set of
responses was addressed to my request for opinions about the relative
length of Notes. As might
be expected, there were cogent positions on both sides of the issue.
Susan F. Rice says that “I agree a few pages less will be good.
Not because I don't read it but because when it is briefer, I
know I will read it when it arrives, rather than setting it aside.” Sigrid Trombley takes up the counter argument, suggesting
that she has “never found Notes too long, but am always sorry when I
come to the end of an issue. I always wish each issue were longer and
that they arrived in my mailbox more frequently. Let each of us be our
own "Notes editors" and decide what portion or portions of
Notes we have time to read. It truly doesn't take very long to read an
issue...what may take some time, is the amount and depth of reflecting
we do, based on what we read...and after all, isn't that the
goal..."reflective practice?"”
Indeed it is—and I’m proud to be a part of this community of
reflective practitioners. Thank
you all. I was honored to learn
that “Notes” will be featured in an upcoming issue of “Advancing
Philanthropy,” the journal of the Association
of Fundraising Professionals. I
was interviewed for the article, which suggests that it is ironic that
this online newsletter seeks to promote reflection!
Counter-cultural, I guess. What
do you think? Occasionally, I (or my
colleagues) refer to items from previous issues of Notes.
If you have not been a subscriber previously, and wish to review
our conversations, past issues of Notes are available on-line at www.jgacounsel.com.
The website version of Notes also includes helpful hyperlinks to
sources for purchasing or subscribing to the various publications
mentioned in Notes. I
thank my friends at Johnson,
Grossnickle & Associates for their abiding support for our
reflective practice. ****** REFLECT
ON THIS >>Loving
humankind after September 11, 2001<< It is still too soon, I
think, to offer any integrating reflection on our lives in the
philanthropic community after the tragedies
of September 11, 2001. Instead,
I’ve collected some random words and interpretations of the events and
subsequent responses that are worth our thoughtful consideration. * We all are aware of
the remarkable outpouring of generosity and kindness in response to the
victims of September 11. Gifts
of money total more than $700 million.
Astounding and inspiring acts of selflessness and voluntarism are
recounted everyday. An
intensive sense of community seems palpable in many different locales
around the country. Susan
Raymond, who writes for the online newsletter “Observations in
Philanthropy,” (www.changingourworld.com)
acknowledges this outpouring, and then thoughtfully remarks: “And
slowly, silently, ever so cautiously, the question is being raised: now
what? It whispers: Will our
giving compromise our philanthropy? Will an outpouring of
giving in the face of unspeakable evil supplant the philanthropic
resource flows upon which so many non-profits and charities rely for
their services on the societal commons? Will a dollar in the fireman's
boot replace a dollar for cancer research?” Provocative words from an observant perspective. * My own thoughts.
I have read and heard many people wonder whether their
fundraising should be suspended in light of recent events.
I understand the concern, but am firmly convinced that our
philanthropic fundraising has never been more important.
What we have the obligation to do at this moment is to seize our
roles as advocates for the public practice of philanthropy. We must renew our commitment to the public goods and needs we
serve through the mission-based work of our organizations.
We must proclaim the ways in which our organizations help sustain
a rich and vibrant democratic society.
And we must, with every tool at our disposal, help our donors,
volunteers, friends, and publics to see how the philanthropic
impulse—which fittingly now may be grounded in the fear we all feel at
the moment—can also be both a response to, and the source of, abiding
hope. Hope in the best of
our common lives…hope in something more than what we see and feel at
this moment…hope in a future that we believe can be created and
sustained--precisely because we believe. * Distinguished
scientist Stephen Jay Gould writes in the New
York Times (“A Time of Gifts,” 9/26/01) of the fallacy we must
avoid that sees patterns in human history that mix decency and depravity
in equal measure. Instead,
he challenges us to affirm an essential truth too easily forgotten:
“Good and kind people outnumber all others by thousands to one…every
spectacular incident of evil will be balanced by 10,000 acts of
kindness, too often unnoted and invisible as the ‘ordinary’ efforts
of a vast majority.” He
suggests that ground zero must be seen as “a focal point for a vast
web of bustling goodness, channeling uncountable deeds of kindness from
an entire planet—the acts that must be recorded to reaffirm the
overwhelming weight of human decency.” * The liberal artist in
me was inspired by Michael Ignatieff’s moving account of how diverse
students and faculty gathered on September 11 at the Kennedy
School at Harvard University (where he teaches) to try to make sense
of what happened and why. He
concludes by commenting on how we must be careful to recognize that
there is not necessarily a “we” in our classrooms (or on our
campuses) when we gather to consider the events of the past several
weeks. Self-evident truths
may not be the same for each of us.
Our histories may be very different.
Ignatieff wisely comments, “We must talk about the most painful
things, and we must not fear the sting of the truth.
There is nothing consoling about this process, but it is what the
discipline of learning requires.” (The
New York Times Magazine, “Where They Came From,” 9/23/01).
For those of us who too often struggle within the confines of our
academic disciplines, Ignatieff’s reminder of the discipline of
genuine learning is a powerful insight. I commend, once again, Ignatieff’s “The
Needs of Strangers: An essay on privacy, solidarity, and the politics of
being human,” (Penguin Books, 1984), which seems more timely than
ever. * I have been struck in
the past several weeks by the power of narratives recounting experiences
in the midst of the terrorist attacks and the aftermath—analysis and
interpretation are sometimes difficult to formulate, but the stories
impart remarkable lessons. One
of the narratives I found most insightful came via the online
newsletter, “Sightings,”
(10/3/01), published by the Martin
Marty Center at the University
of Chicago Divinity School (contact jhebel@midway.uchicago.edu).
Jean Bethke Elshtain, professor of social and political ethics at
Chicago, recounts in “An Extraordinary Discussion,” her
participation in a gathering of religious leaders with President Bush on
September 20, 2001. It is an account of how the religious leaders came together
with President Bush to share concerns and thoughts, to pray, to offer
assistance where it was needed, even to speak a prophetic word. She concludes her narrative by declining to offer some sort
of exegesis of what happened at the gathering; instead, she says,
“Sometimes events just stand. They
are what they are…. It was clear that the President wanted counsel;
that he sought prayer; that he also hoped to reassure us that he
understood the issues involved.” I have learned much
from Jean Elshtain over the years about the nature of patriotism—which
makes her recent story even more meaningful.
In a 1987 essay, “Citizenship and Armed Civic Virtue: Some
Critical Questions on the Commitment to Public Life,” (Soundings,
No. 69), she introduces the notion of ‘chastened patriotism,’ which
she describes as detaching ourselves enough from the ‘big public
picture,’ which can cloud our critical judgment, to learn the civic
skills and virtues critical to a healthy democracy. Elshtain’s narrative of her White House experience models
just that sort of chastened patriotism, the challenge of good
citizenship in a complex world. We
might all take a lesson. >>Learning
from the Smithsonian<< The lessons from the Smithsonian
Institution these days seem less about American history and culture
than about the demands for standards in our philanthropy and the
fragility of organizational integrity.
Secretary Lawrence M. Small has been fighting a firestorm of
controversy both within the Smithsonian and in public concerning significant
gifts that have been alleged to have inappropriate conditions attached
(Smithsonian,
July 2001). I’m not sure we know
enough about the circumstances of these gifts to comment on their
appropriateness, but certainly the furor concerning the gifts
illustrates the inextricable links between trust, integrity, and image
in our philanthropic organizations.
The need for vigilance to those links is the lesson we learn from
the Smithsonian’s experience. It begins with
trust—interpersonal trust that translates into a culture of trust.
Clearly communications about the gifts in question were
inadequate. Smithsonian
volunteer leaders and senior staff did not appear to be on the same page
in their understanding of the gifts, their purposes and restrictions.
Why, what happened, what were the expectations of trust in the
organization? The health of
organizational life begins with candor, openness, and common purpose
within the organization. Within a culture of
trust, an organization of integrity is built and sustained.
Systems, policies, standards, and management practices are
integrated. Expectations are clearly stated and pursued.
Staff and volunteers know what they are to do and why—and they
are held accountable for their thinking and action. Clearly, Smithsonian
institutional policies about the gifts in question were not clearly
stated or understood. Communication
systems were not firmly in place. Organizational
reflection and practice were fragmented. And it showed.
Without a culture of trust and the resulting organizational
integrity, the public image of the Smithsonian was called into question.
Accountability to the public trust was jeopardized.
The mission of the Smithsonian was tarnished. Our focus on the crucial and abiding links between trust, integrity, and image provides an important diagnostic tool for those of us who care about healthy organizations and the wonder of common work on behalf of public goods and needs. We wish the Smithsonian well—lessons learned can be a source of renewal—but we are reminded of how fragile the trusts we hold can be. Guard them well. ****** PRACTICE
THIS >>Reaching
new audiences<< In the workshops for
philanthropic fundraisers I lead, the conversation often turns to the
challenges of engaging new audiences in our volunteer and fundraising
programs. In particular,
participants are often interested in the distinctive needs and
motivations of baby-boomer and high-tech donors. What do we need to know and do as we work to engage these
individuals in the mission-based work of our organizations?
How does the style of what has come to be known as “venture
philanthropy” reflect broader changes in the motivations and needs of
donors and friends—motivations and needs we must learn to meet if we
are to be successful in raising funds and making friends. I learned about these
trends in a July 6, 2001 article in “The
Chronicle of Higher Education” by Mary Marcy, a former development
officer and now administrator of Antioch University’s Project on the
Future of Higher Education. She
addresses “How to Reach the New Donors,” outlining a helpful
framework for understanding the long-term effects of what she calls
“the new philanthropist.” There are four principles to her framework: (1) The traditional
donor wants to leave a legacy. The
new donor often wants to change the world, and wants to do it now. (2) The traditional
donor invests in established institutions.
The new donor may have a suspicion of established institutions. (3) The traditional
donor expects a gift to lead to a predictable outcome.
The new donor may be more willing to embrace nascent or risky
ideas. (4) Traditional donors
take on volunteer leadership roles defined by the institution.
New donors may expect to contribute not only financial resources
but also their expertise. Consider what these
principles might mean for our work in the philanthropic community,
because the new philanthropy—forged in the context of a boom economy
and a high tech explosion—will likely be with us for quite some time,
defining the parameters of expectations and motivations for those we
hope to engage in support of our organizations in the future. >>Messages
that get attention<< I will have more to say
in future issues about the challenge of attention management—a core
aspect of what it means to lead effectively.
For now, consider this report of the kinds of messages that get
attention (“What
Kind of Message Gets Attention?” Harvard
Business Review, September-October
2000). A survey of corporate
executives asked respondents to track every message they received for a
week and to rate how well each message attracted their attention.
The factors most highly associated with attention-getting
messages were, in rank order: the message was personalized, it evoked an
emotional response, it came from a trustworthy or respected sender, and
it was concise. The messages that both evoked emotion and were personalized
were more than twice as likely to be attended to as messages without
those attributes. Almost half of the
messages that got high levels of attention were emails; only 16% were
voice mail messages. Other
types of messages garnered even less attention.
If one of our crucial roles as leaders and managers is to help
others pay attention, then we might consider the character and means of
the messages we hope to communicate. ****** PAY
ATTENTION TO THIS >>Some
new resources<< A few new sources for
your reflective practice. A hallmark of the
remarkable disaster relief effort these past several weeks is the
breakthrough role of e-philanthropy in facilitating giving in support of
victims and their families. I’m sure there will be analysis aplenty in the months
ahead, but for now I was comforted to know of the good work of the Ephilanthropy
Foundation, which has monitored the growth of online giving efforts
and has developed helpful criteria, tips, and ethical codes for such
efforts. The foundation
publishes a newsletter and has a good website.
For more information, go to http://www.ephilanthropyfoundation.org. I have written in an
earlier issue of Notes about the work of Simon Blackburn, a British
philosopher who writes accessible introductions to important
philosophical issues. His
most recent volume, “Being
Good: A short introduction to ethics” (Oxford University Press,
2001) is another in his series of helpful efforts to enrich our moral
skills and discourse. I have found some
interesting material in a recently relaunched magazine, “Life
@ Work," which is in the mode of another favorite magazine, “Fast
Company.” The
magazine seeks to serve as a resource for facilitating the integration
of spiritual life and work. The
ongoing struggle to help us find balance in our lives certainly takes up
a good bit of bandwidth and column inches these days.
The challenge of reflective practice. >>
A poem for our times<< I have recently found
my way back to Wendell Berry’s delightful volume of poetry, “A
Timbered Choir” (Counterpoint Press, 1998), which comprises his
collection of Sabbath poems, written over a twenty-year period as a
series of reflections on nature and life. The poems are meant to be read and considered—as they were
written—with a kind of quietness, a sort of Sabbath posture. I was reminded of this particular poem as a fitting word in the midst of recent events. It was written to Berry’s granddaughters who visited the Holocaust Museum on the day of the burial of Yitzhak Rabin. “Now you know the worst we humans have to know about ourselves, and I am sorry, for I know that you will be afraid. To those of our bodies given without pity to be burned, I know there is no answer but loving one another, even our enemies, and this is hard. But remember: when a man of war becomes a man of peace, he gives a light, divine though it is also human. When a man of peace is killed by a man of war, he gives a light. You do not have to walk in darkness. If you will have the courage for love, you may walk in light. It will be the light of those who have suffered for peace. It will be your light.” >>Subscription
information<< Subscriptions to Notes
are simple to establish. Send
me an email at pribbenp@wabash.edu,
ask to be added to the list, and you will receive a confirmation from
the mailserver at Wabash College
that you are on the list. Please
feel free to forward your email versions of Notes to others—they then
can subscribe by contacting me. I
also am happy to send Notes as an MS Word attachment to an email, if
that would make reading it easier for some of you.
Just let me know. The
current and archive issues of Notes are available on-line at www.jgacounsel.com. >>Topics
for the next issue (December 2001)<< * A meditation on the choices we make * Philanthropy education for our times * A commonplace on
vocation (c) Paul Pribbenow, 2001 |
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