Is confessing to the public that your fundraising is facing trouble an example of transparency, or could it make ‘emergency’ fundraising the norm? Rob Dyson suggests charities should be careful of crying wolf.

I recently blogged about Cancer Research UK’s high-profile advertising campaign for Race for Life, which was positioned in the tradition of an emergency appeal. The charity reported it was down on participants this year, and called upon women to sign up in droves so that the charity’s vital work could continue. The responses my post drew surprised me; some considered it a straightforward marketing initiative, and didn’t take the ‘we’re in trouble’ message at its face value. Was the appeal’s ubiquity too planned? Were the celebrity endorsements too slick?

It got me thinking about if, how and when we communicate failure or even desperation to our supporters and funders. Are the rules of engagement changing? I also wonder whether the ‘emergency appeal’ narrative translates from the context we typically see it in, such as international disaster appeals or sometimes around Christmas, into a home-grown event fundraising marketing strategy?

It was reported earlier in the year that some charities found it harder to recruit London Marathon participants too. There is an undeniable effect on individual giving that stems from economic uncertainty, rising costs of living, and a lot of noise from government about volunteerism replacing some public service and community roles. What I wonder then, is whether we will begin to see a shift in the language of fundraising from positivity and impact back to urgency and plight. This shorttermism would certainly not be useful and harms the users of our services in terms of their autonomy and self-worth.

I’m also wary of the ‘wolf-crying boy’ effect. If we find ourselves struggling to hit targets or fill event places, will coordinated national appeals lose their impact and become more fatigued than regular calls for funds and volunteers? Should we keep our ‘emergency’ card tight to our chests until we need to play it, or by then is it too late?

What might be more useful is taking a localised approach to emergency appeals. By focusing energy on regions where signs-ups or giving are proven to be lower, we can manage the sense of fatigue that a national appeal may carry. It empowers local people with a sense that they can make a difference and that the situation isn’t so large as to be out of their control.

Playing devil’s advocate for a moment, does a large national organisation using its emergency card permit us all to be more transparent with our supporters? Perhaps we are merely seeing the smart, rehearsed admission of a wider problem – that of falling giving. If this is the case, isn’t it time we all confessed when we’re struggling, and put our hand out a little more readily for support at the precise moment we need it? Are we entering an age where saying ‘we’re desperate’ is not dirty phrase, and if we are, does this tact only work with the public? How might this strategy go down with corporate partners or trusts which may see your new project bid as unsustainable and not worth the investment? Are you waving or drowning?

I think ultimately this is a call for us all to take individually. As a communications person, however, my instinct is threefold: to refrain from crying wolf, to demonstrate our impact and achievements positively, and to twin transparency with a keen sense of localism – so that our supporters (loyal, existing and potential) know exactly how they fund our essential services. Most people can be moved to make a difference, but heightening the urgency may only serve to normalise the ‘red alert‘ button to the point of complacency.

Rob Dyson is public relations manager of Whizz-Kidz