Charitable gaming is changing the social contract between donors and not-for-profits, Dan Monafu writes. He wonders if it’s the win-win it professes to be, or something closer to a lose-lose scenario.
I’ve built a career adapting and reimagining new models and financial instruments, some for the philanthropic sector. I tend to notice and even get excited when I see new trends appearing. I first noticed that one of my local theatre companies, the Great Canadian Theatre Company in Ottawa, started running a regular raffle a couple of years back. Times have been tough in the arts since the pandemic, and some connoisseurs might even say times have been perpetually hard for the arts, so no surprise there; perhaps just a nod of admiration that the theatre’s administrators found a new source of revenue.
My next weak signal came from the Ottawa Humane Society, which started running a regular “Love of Animals” lottery. As the tagline in my email said, “Play for $80,000+ and support Ottawa’s vulnerable animals” – what’s not to love?
The Humane Society’s campaign was run by BUMP, self-proclaimed “North America’s leading digital raffle partner.” BUMP’s parent company is CBN, which the reader will be forgiven not to know was originally the Canadian Bank Note Company, known for printing Canada’s innovative plastic (polymer) banknotes and a “trusted partner to governments and businesses since 1897.”
I’ve since seen BUMP everywhere. Most recently at FIFA’s World Cup games held in Canada this summer: lots of folks holding up signs saying “Get your 50/50 draws” outside of FIFA’s strictly regulated stadiums. The combined dollar amount for the FIFA World Cup pot in Canada was $1.94 million, split between the winner and “infrastructure initiatives and grassroots programs with Canada Soccer’s Member Associations in the host provinces.”
The next signal was not very weak at all; it was loud and boisterous. Split the Pot is a website offering to split the profit between lottery participants and a list of 87 Ontario hospitals. I signed up, bought some tickets, and within days I was receiving multiple emails a day asking me to “Buy more tickets before midnight” or rhetorically asking me if “[I] was a grand prize winner yet?” or loudly informing me that “Ticket sales are on the MOVE,” rocket ship emoji and everything. I wasn’t ready for this level of marketing aggression from this campaign, one that I still associated with children and the most vulnerable accessing healthcare. Split the Pot made it all about me: “Expect amplified payouts, more winners, and an effortless way to make a positive difference.” Win-win, right?
If you looked further down the page, the website noted the usual gambling terms and conditions: “Must be 18 years of age or older to play. Play responsibly. For problem gambling support, please visit Ontario Gambling Helpline (1-866-531-2600) www.connexontario.ca.”
Split the Pot is the brainchild of Ascend Fundraising Solutions, a privately held company owned by Orange Capital Ventures, a private equity fund headquartered in New York City. Ascend “has helped more than 500 charities, foundations and not-for-profits raise hundreds or millions of dollars” over the past decade, predominantly in Canada, the United States, and the United Kingdom. In the case of Split the Pot, the website notes that “over $1.5 billion dollars was raised for its Partners,” though it’s unclear over what period of time and what geography. As Ascend’s website notes, online raffles conducted for the purpose of fundraising are categorized under “charitable gaming,” which is different from traditional gambling and lotteries. Each Canadian province has its own set of rules, regulations, and laws governing charitable gaming.
A friend working for a large Canadian charity told me they’ve been approached by Funding Change, a Winnipeg-based company helping a “wide range of organizations raise more through innovative raffle programs.” My friend told me their organization listened to Funding Change’s compelling pitch, had an internal discussion about it as a management team, and ultimately decided this type of fundraising did not fit their values as an organization.
Perhaps there’s not too much inherently wrong with activating human greed for a good cause – genuine gambling problems aside. New models of philanthropy will always emerge, capturing hearts and minds in compelling new ways. I think of the recent 1 Picasso for 100 Euros campaign, for instance. There was something irresistible about that one: a family had a Pablo Picasso painting and wanted to raise money for a good cause – instant organic engagement hits ensued. That said, not everyone has €100 to participate in more expensive such lotteries, such as the popular, 100-bucks-a-ticket CHEO Dream of a Lifetime Lottery in Ottawa. At that amount per ticket, the idea of charitable giving has more weight.
This type of fundraising, while innovative, makes prospective donors like me and you ask, ‘What am I getting from this exchange?’
The trouble is that charitable gaming is slowly changing the social contract between donors and not-for-profits and even blended public-sector organizations like hospitals. This type of fundraising, while innovative, makes prospective donors like me and you ask, “What am I getting from this exchange?” Perhaps for the more mercenary-minded among us, it already only pays to make a donation if you receive a charitable receipt in return. Those 30 or so cents on the dollar back on your taxes at the end of the year is a recognition we’ve all collectively made to say, “Hey, thanks for giving back – here’s something back for being one of the good ones.”
When that interaction turns into “I’m giving back but need to feel that irresistible thrill of gambling,” perhaps we’ve moved away from the realm of charity and into that of pure entertainment. In the end, how I reconciled my $100 spend on those initial Split the Pot tickets in my own family’s budget was to write down “$50” in the “entertainment” category and “$50” in the “donations” section. Not sure if that’s most accurate, but it felt honest.
There is an undeniable human thrill that comes from purchasing a lottery ticket, and the instant daydreaming state that comes on immediately, where we are transported into a flow state imagining how our life circumstances and any hardships will instantly evaporate. Our happy dances from the TV commercials are only natural reactions.
Yet there’s still something unsettling in my mind about charitable gaming campaigns; they remind me of the scene in the movie It’s a Wonderful Life when Jimmy Stewart’s character is brought back to the town’s main street once he is told he no longer exists. Bedford Falls, his home town, is unrecognizable to him: the mom-and-pop stores have disappeared and it’s all casinos and seedy bars instead; even the name of the town has changed, to Potterville, after the infamous Mr. Potter, a villain with a shrewd business sense and a heartless persona.
Not sure if the metaphor there is that allowing these types of charitable gaming campaigns to thrive is the proverbial slippery slope toward Canadians cities and towns slowly turning into Pottervilles. There’s nothing wrong with hockey moms and dads organizing 50/50 draws to raise some dollars for their children’s next away game. What’s different about this trend is its growing scale, and the fact that intermediary organizations continue to professionalize charitable gaming and grow their profits year over year.[1] In Ontario, charitable gaming started as a pilot project in four sites in 2005. Over its more than 20 years of activity, its industry association mentions it raising $700 million across the province, with 2,500 charities now actively participating.
At the rate this segment of the philanthropic sector is going, it will quickly change the mainstream way in which philanthropy happens.
These numbers seem to be dramatically increasing. In 2024, the Ontario Charitable Gaming Association reported raising $110 million in the province, a 15% increase across all sectors from its previous year. While this is still less than 2% of all giving in Ontario,[2] in some areas the growth rate was close to 20% year over year. For example, the community support sector, which includes food banks, meal-delivery programs, seniors’ support programs, community centres, family violence shelters, and immigrant support services, saw a 19.3% increase.
At the rate this segment of the philanthropic sector is going, it will quickly change the mainstream way in which philanthropy happens. In doing so, there’s no question in my mind it will eventually alter and replace the traditional social contract of giving, making us seek the cheap thrills of gambling in order to do good, and first asking, “What’s in it for me?” monetary gains–wise, rather than saying, “Much has been given me, so much is required back,” to paraphrase one of our foundational principles as a society.
Ultimately, perhaps the proliferation of charitable gaming is also a symptom of a larger trend. If we need to rely on charitable gaming to feed our children[3] or pay for new hospital equipment, you might say that something else is wrong with how we collectively allocate money in our society.
Plus, charitable donations tend to go down in economically difficult times. Our levels of escapism go up, too, I would argue. People tend to want to shortcut their condition, and do that happy dance in their heads more often. Dreams are cheap, and perhaps, even if the odds are never in your favour, what if somehow today may be different? As traditional charities and blended public institutions alike see increases in their costs as a result of inflation and other factors, it’s harder to fulfil that bottom line. The question is, is charitable gaming the win-win it professes to be, or something closer to a lose-lose scenario?
The views represented in this article are the author’s personal opinion as a public policy practitioner and do not represent those of his employer.
[1] In Ontario, the Charitable Bingo and Gaming Initiative (cGaming) is a partnership between the Ontario Charitable Gaming Association (OCGA), the Commercial Gaming Association of Ontario (CGAO), the Ontario Lottery and Gaming Corporation (OLG) and the Alcohol and Gaming Commission Ontario (AGCO).
[2] In 2023, the latest year for which data is available from Statistics Canada, of the almost 30 million tax fillers in Canada, approximately 5 million of those were donors, giving a combined 12.7 billion. If we look at Ontario alone, there were almost 2 million donors, who gave a total of $5.6 billion. The OCGA notes its 2024 fiscal year numbers at $110 million for 2024, a 15% increase from 2023, which means the 2023 number were roughly $95 million. $95 of $5.6 billion is about 1.7%.
[3] The education sector increased by 19.8% year over year in the OCGA’s report; that includes breakfast programs and after-school support programs
