Development and Fund Raising: What's the Difference?

By Mark J. Drozdowski

To many people outside the advancement office, "development" and "fund raising" are synonymous. Casual observers equate the development office with raising money, pure and simple. To some extent, of course, they're right, but such a limited definition of development fails to capture the full measure of what the term implies.

In truth, fund raising is but one component of the broader term, development. Let me offer two distinctions.

The first is a matter of function. Most development offices employ professionals whose jobs do not directly involve raising money. Rather, they provide related services, including prospect research, database management, gift recording and processing, accounting, special-events planning and oversight, and donor relations. Complex development operations will often feature positions dedicated solely to the internal coordination of fund raising across offices and schools; these people may or may not have prospects assigned to them. In short, not everyone who works in "development" raises money.

But the more meaningful distinction pertains to purpose. For the sake of simplicity, let's put it this way: The time we spend cultivating or soliciting donors is fund raising; that spent aligning fund-raising goals with institutional planning and maturation is development.

The following story should illustrate the difference. A few years ago I was working in corporate and foundation relations at one of New England's flagship state universities. My institution had recently completed a strategic plan and was in the early stages of retooling its curriculum, with an eye toward better integrating technology and distance learning.

I thought these ideas were suitable for foundation support. So I began poking around for prospects, and uncovered a possibility at a prominent Midwestern foundation with which we had no prior relationship. It was looking to support institutions that were planning the kinds of curricular changes we were contemplating. Our priorities matched perfectly.

Within a month I had landed a meeting with one of the foundation's program officers and another key official. We discussed the recent and proposed changes at my university, and I linked our strategic plan with the grant program, pointing out how the foundation could achieve its philanthropic aims while enabling us to take important next steps. To my delight, the program officer encouraged me to submit a proposal seeking a seven-figure grant.

Armed with this good news from my fund-raising trip, I returned to campus to begin my development work.

The provost helped me gather a group of professors and academic administrators to begin discussing ways to capitalize on this opportunity. We worked together for months. Throughout the process, faculty members across seemingly distant departments thought of new ways to connect with one another. We conjured creative ways to link regional campuses through distance learning. Professors thought about the curriculum as a whole in ways they hadn't before. We talked about new methods for evaluating student learning and harnessing technology for that effort. I may be wrong, but I think the faculty members actually had fun.

Along the way, I discovered that the foundation had worked with a national organization in Washington to create a network for institutions wishing to share information on curricular change. Thinking that we might coordinate our interests, I flew to Washington to learn more about this partnership. I thought it would be another way to demonstrate to the foundation my institution's commitment.

A month later, I returned to the foundation, this time with the chancellor in tow. During a two-hour conversation, we presented our ideas, covering both the big picture of institutional reform and the minute details of how this project would work. We were careful to mention our eagerness to become involved with the D.C. organization and to share our results with interested colleagues.

Over the following week, we adjusted the proposal to include the program officer's latest suggestions and submitted a request seeking about $1.5-million. Our advancement vice president told me it was the one of the best proposals he'd ever read. The faculty members who worked on it were equally proud.

To our dismay, the foundation rejected our request. It applauded our ideas but thought -- for some reason not entirely clear to us -- that the timing just wasn't right. It was instead looking ahead to other projects, but didn't rule out future consideration. Around campus, we collectively bowed our heads and scuffed the dirt.

So let me ask: Did this fund-raising effort fail?

Most observers would say yes. We raised no money. In fact, we lost money. Add the cost of four flights (three to the Midwest and one to D.C.), car rentals, overnight stays, and meals, and you're talking thousands of dollars. Don't forget to include costs associated with the time dedicated by dozens of people on campus. All that effort and money resulted in our raising zero dollars. Our bottom line didn't budge a bit in the right direction.

But did the development effort fail? Absolutely not.

This grant opportunity energized people. It fostered new relationships across campus and started people thinking more collaboratively. It strengthened ties between the faculty and the administration, and with the development office. It resulted in our involvement with a national organization, which we pursued despite not receiving the grant. The potential for money made strategic planning real, breathing life into a stale shelf document. That potential -- not even the money itself -- was a catalyst for change.

In the broadest sense, development moves the institution forward. If done right, development helps colleges to determine priorities, to think about how scarce resources can best be spent. It gives planning potential and purpose. During the early stages of a capital campaign, for example, a university typically compiles an inventory of financial needs; the creation of a case statement forces it to choose carefully among them. In that exercise, not a dollar is raised, but development is happening nonetheless. Fund raising simply brings such plans to fruition.

Further, development engages volunteers (including alumni, board members, and other friends), giving them an avenue for involvement. They become advocates and ambassadors, spreading good will and good news. They might not actually solicit gifts, but what they do is most certainly development.

I left the university shortly afterward, and I'm not certain if it ever pursued another round with the foundation. I do know that some of the ideas we hatched were absorbed into the budget, while others were shopped to different foundations and agencies. Through it all, I came away with a better understanding of my role as development officer and a better appreciation for what this function can accomplish.

To fund raisers, then, I say this: Take every opportunity to educate the campus community (and beyond) about the full scope of what you do. Yes, we raise money and are evaluated accordingly. But that's only part of the job. In some respects, it's not even the most important part.