Jan Abernathy works at the Browning School in Manhattan, a 133-year-old college-prep school with just over 400 boys. That cozy number helps foster what the school promotes as a warm, welcoming environment. These days, however, a troubling undercurrent runs through the relationships between New York City private schools and their parents — typically their biggest donors.
Anonymous social-media sites such as NYC Private School Watch on Instagram are posting school curriculum, announcements, and internal memos regarding equity and inclusion efforts. The posts can touch off furious criticism. “Parents don’t want WOKE!,” declared one
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Jan Abernathy works at the Browning School in Manhattan, a 133-year-old college-prep school with just over 400 boys. That cozy number helps foster what the school promotes as a warm, welcoming environment. These days, however, a troubling undercurrent runs through the relationships between New York City private schools and their parents — typically their biggest donors.
Anonymous social-media sites such as NYC Private School Watch on Instagram are posting school curricula, announcements, and internal memos regarding equity and inclusion efforts. The posts can touch off furious criticism. “Parents don’t want WOKE!” declared one post. “When will these administrators get it? How many more will have to go down in flames before they stop foisting this crap on their students and families?”
Such animus and sharp attacks — from all points on the political spectrum — represent a new challenge for advancement and communication professionals, says Abernathy, Browning’s chief communications officer and a veteran of nearly a decade in independent schools. Parents may smile at you and compliment your work, but are they trolling the school online?
“It can create a climate where you look around at families and almost don’t know who to trust,” she says.
New York schools aren’t the only nonprofits whose development teams are buffeted by a polarized public. Colleges, arts groups, social-service charities, environmental organizations, and others report simmering tensions in day-to-day work. Fundraisers ring up a donor only to get an earful about the latest political outrage — sometimes unrelated to the group’s work — and how the organization may (or may not) be responding.
Supporters clap back at appeals or stewardship communications, objecting to an institution’s program or position. Sometimes they point to a few words or photos as evidence of an extreme agenda. Or of backsliding on promises.
In some instances, donations are weaponized. When performing-arts groups announce decisions on mask and vaccine requirements, their social-media accounts often explode with invective. Patrons threaten to cancel subscriptions or end giving, says Drew McManus, an arts consultant. “Both sides leverage their status as a donor,” he says. “That’s a screw that they’re turning.”
‘Donor Strike’
The Salvation Army found itself fending off accusations that it had abandoned Christianity just as it launched its holiday-season fundraising campaign. Criticism of a racial-equity guide it published last spring crescendoed this fall, with the Daily Wire, a conservative media outlet, concluding in a Thanksgiving post that the organization “has gone woke.”
Both sides leverage their status as a donor. That’s a screw that they’re turning.
That same day, even as it kicked off its traditional red-kettle effort at a glitzy, upbeat halftime show at the Dallas Cowboys football game, the organization issued a statement denying that it follows any theory or ideology not found in the Bible and defending itself against “false” and “sensationalist” claims.
The Generals Redoubt — a group of Washington and Lee University alumni and others — seeks to oust president William Dudley because of what it describes as the institution’s “toxic ideological drift.” The group opposes, among other things, what it calls the “whitewashing of Robert E. Lee from the school,” notably the decision to rename its chapel honoring the Confederate general. As part of its pressure campaign on the university, it urges its more than 10,000 followers to suspend their giving. “It gets their attention,” says 1990 graduate Jay Fant, a leader of the group, and a former Florida GOP state legislator. “Everybody has budgets, and everybody has to show that they’re growing budgets. This is a way to vote with your dollars.”
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The Redoubt claims that dissatisfaction with the university’s direction led to its 10 percent decline in annual giving last year, though Washington and Lee officials attribute the drop to the pandemic and other factors.
The newly formed MIT Free Speech Alliance, a group of the university’s alumni, is calling on MIT’s leaders to make what it calls a stronger commitment to free speech on campus. Barring that, the group may call a “donor strike” and set up a donor-advised fund to serve essentially as an escrow account for those withholding gifts to the university. The funds would be awarded to the university only after it agreed to strong free-speech measures akin to the Chicago Principles, adopted at the University of Chicago in the mid-2010s. “We’d say, ‘Hey guys, we’ve got $52 million here. When you adopt the Chicago Principles, we’ll give it to you as unrestricted giving,’” says 1975 graduate Jim Rutt, a leader of the group.
Rutt, the former CEO of Network Solutions, which operated all internet domain names until its sale in 2000 to VeriSign for $15 billion, is continuing his giving for now, which he says typically ranges in the mid-five figures annually.
Caught in the Crossfire
Some observers argue that nonprofits have brought this upon themselves with unwarranted forays into political and social issues. Hope College professor Jeff Polet, writing in Philanthropy Daily, lamented what he sees as the growing politicization of higher education as colleges and universities come to see themselves as change agents on societal issues. This “alienates many donors who do not agree with what constitutes ‘positive change’ or which problems need solving,” he said.
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More commonly, observers say, nonprofits are caught in the crossfire of today’s polarization. They typically bring together large numbers of people who reflect society’s divisions, says David Brubaker, dean of the School of Social Sciences and Professions at Eastern Mennonite University.
“Anytime a society polarizes, public spaces will be the ones most impacted,” says Brubaker, author of When the Center Does Not Hold, an examination of leadership during times of polarization. “That could be schools, that could be congregations, and that’s certainly nonprofit organizations.”
Social media means disagreements ignite in minutes and with more intensity than if they had played out over weeks of conversation.
Nearly four in 10 pastors are considering leaving the ministry, according to a survey this fall by the Barna Group, which researches faith and spirituality matters. Nearly half of pastors 45 or younger are considering leaving.
Brubaker says ministers tell him: “I feel like I’m in a no-win situation. If I say we’re requiring masks and social distancing, I’m accused of giving in to fear rather than faith. But if we don’t have any restrictions, I’m told by other parishioners that they won’t come to church because it’s not safe to do so.”
Social media, he adds, means disagreements ignite in minutes and with more intensity than if they had played out over weeks of conversation.
Inaccurate or out-of-context Twitter or Facebook posts often land fundraisers in awkward conversations with donors, says Cathy Brown, associate director of education for the Fund Raising School at the Lilly Family School of Philanthropy. Donors have “read something on social media that has caused them to rethink either their involvement with the group or their opinion. It puts the fundraiser in the crossfire.”
In Brown’s classes, fundraisers routinely bring up examples of tensions with donors over political and social issues. Supporters, she says, have withdrawn their backing of food or disaster-relief efforts because low-income neighborhoods receive too much — or too little. Also, she says, fundraising events that feature auctions of guns or shooting competitions have become problematic as school shootings and police violence have become polarizing topics.
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Anecdotally, it appears that many rancorous moments relate to an organization’s efforts or stance on racial equity. Some critics argue that nonprofits are slow-walking work stemming from the racial reckoning following George Floyd’s police murder in 2020. Others say they’re doing too much.
The Oberlin Conservatory of Music stirred protest when it used photographs of five white performers to promote a Black History Month performance of music by Black composers. In an apology — “We want you to know that we hear you, and we will do better” — the conservatory noted Oberlin College’s diversity and inclusion efforts, but some critics were unsatisfied. If those diversity efforts were genuine, they argued, the performance would have included Black performers.
Education institutions feel this tension acutely, in part because supporters can span generations. Students and young alumni typically want their colleges to be activists and live out their values, fundraisers say. Older alumni, meanwhile, advise universities to stick to teaching and the fundamentals they remember as critical to their education.
Some donors and volunteers will say: ‘I don’t even know if I’m welcome here because I have a different viewpoint.’
“Some donors and volunteers will say: ‘I don’t even know if I’m welcome here because I have a different viewpoint,’” says Angelique Grant, a veteran fundraiser who’s now a senior consultant and principal with the Inclusion Firm, which advises nonprofits on diversity, equity, and inclusion. “Even when I worked with Brown University, there’d be comments: ‘Am I Brown enough to be a Brown alum or donor?’”
This fall, MIT’s selection of geophysicist Dorian Abbot to deliver a prestigious guest lecture upset some faculty and students. Although Abbot was to talk about his work on climate change and potential life on other planets, they opposed him for what they described as harmful criticism of affirmative action and diversity programs.
MIT canceled the talk, touching off outcries from a new set of critics who argued that the university was kowtowing to a “Twitter mob.” The MIT Free Speech Alliance was born soon after.
Empty Threats or Lost Gifts?
It isn’t clear how all this turbulence affects giving. Promises to end support can be empty threats. Outrage on social media can represent the views of a tiny segment of supporters. Also, donors may have a change of a heart once their anger cools.
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The Salvation Army acknowledges it has lost donors from the uproar over its racial-equity guide, in part because supporters followed the lead of conservative figures who declared they were parting ways with the organization. Christian talk-show host Greg Koukl told his listeners he was ending his donations and claimed in an open letter that the organization was “promoting something manifestly evil.”
“The key here is that people understand precisely where TSA stands so donors can make informed decisions,” he wrote later in a Facebook post in which he said some might follow his lead, others not.
The Salvation Army countered aggressively. It announced in its Thanksgiving statement that the guide was being pulled for review, “as certain aspects … may need to be clarified.” Videos and television interviews in the weeks to come featured assurances by National Commander Kenneth Hodder that the group holds to its 150-year-old founding values.
“I can tell you that digital giving appears to be strong, and none of our corporate partners have left us,” Hodder says. The final result of the red-kettle campaign, which relies on data prepared by its local affiliates, won’t be complete until later this month, according to the organization.
Universities have seen formal efforts by groups with generally conservative viewpoints to use donations as leverage. The Generals Redoubt, which has nonprofit status, says many Washington and Lee supporters are giving to the organization in lieu of donating to the university. “We’re seeing a lot of energy and action now,” Fant says. Early responses to a recent appeal brought in $100,000 a week, he says.
In some cases, protests emanate from a small, albeit loud minority. MIT’s Free Speech Alliance attracted 500 members in its first month, while MIT has nearly 143,000 alumni. The group says it aims to reel in thousands more.
Some disaffected supporters hint that big donations are at risk. The American Council of Trustees and Alumni, which promotes freedom of speech on campus and high academic standards, seemed to rattle that saber in a recent survey it commissioned of major donors at Davidson College.
The results showed that 59 percent of respondents were “very” or “somewhat” dissatisfied with Davidson’s direction over the past decade. The college this fall rewrote its bylaws to open the office of president to candidates of any faith and to increase the share of its board members who do not have a religious commitment. The college, which was founded by Presbyterians and maintains an affiliation with the Presbyterian Church, previously required its president and a large share of its board to be active Christians.
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The survey illustrates a deep division between higher education’s increasingly “radicalized institutions” and the “beliefs of important donors,” wrote Jay Schalin, a policy analyst at the James G. Martin Center for Academic Renewal in North Carolina (formerly the John W. Pope Center for Higher Education Policy). Schalin regularly criticizes higher education from a conservative perspective.
Fundraisers and consultants say that some top supporters choose to withhold their giving over what could be described as a political or social issue. But they say it’s wrong to assume that all donors in a disaffected bloc have stopped giving. Big supporters are not easily culled from donor rolls, as they often are personally invested in an institution’s success, their generosity a manifestation of a lifetime commitment.
The share of big contributions affected by ideological divides “still represents a very, very small number of gifts,” says Aaron Conley, founding partner of Academic Advancement Partners in Dallas.
Donors who make small contributions are more likely to pull away, fundraisers say. That’s particularly true for those who aren’t core supporters. Students, too, may be turned off by political jousting, adding to existing concerns about the erosion of small gifts seen nationally that’s hurting the major-gifts pipeline. “There are some ominous signs,” says a university development officer whose institution is facing some donor backlash and who asked not to be identified.
No More Backflips
Donor attrition has a flip side: A nonprofit’s move that angers some supporters may attract new donors or bigger gifts. The San Diego Foundation anticipated it would lose supporters when it developed a new strategic plan with a key focus on advancing racial and social justice. “From the very beginning, we understood we were going to lose support” from donors who disagreed with that work, says Miguel Lopez, a development manager with the foundation. “But at the same time, we knew we were going to create a tighter community and engage new donors — people that really aligned with our values.”
Announced in June, the strategic plan has been a net plus in fundraising, Lopez says. More new donors have come on board than have closed their accounts. “Donors reach out to us and say they’re proud of the work we’re doing,” he adds.
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Washington and Lee reports a similar donor response to changes announced in June after a yearlong examination of its name and other ways the university honors its namesakes. The university has lost some donors due to the decision to change the name of Lee Chapel and other new diversity and equity efforts, says Tom Jennings, vice president for university advancement. But an equal number of supporters have increased their giving, some doubling contributions. At the same time, some donors have ended their giving because of the decision to retain Robert E. Lee in the university’s name — a decision cheered by the Generals Redoubt.
In all, annual giving was up 5 percent in mid-December, and overall alumni giving was running 150 percent ahead of last year’s totals. “Although not always civil, the discourse around the chapel and the university’s name hasn’t had a significant impact on either operations or funding,” Jennings said in an email to the Chronicle.
At least some groups caught in political crosshairs are ready to move on from dissenting donors. Years ago, when the “donor-centric” model of fundraising was dominant, these groups might have done backflips to make these supporters happy, fundraisers say. Now they are explaining how changes or moves by the organizations are in keeping with their mission and core values. If donors still disagree, they say goodbye and wish them well.
Independent schools are enrolling families with attitudes far different from those in the past, says Abernathy, who also is a co-founder of the newly formed Black Advancement Networking Group for independent school professionals.
“You’re not enrolling your alums,” Abernathy says. “They’re talking about holding back their $500 donation? Well, OK. Go ahead. But look who else is coming to the table who can provide you with a greater donation.”