For many years, the British have prided themselves on the 'mixed economy' for arts funding. It has been often asserted that the British have adopted a pragmatic middle way between the state funding model in Europe and the marked reliance of the arts in the United States on private philanthropy and corporate sponsorship. Many arts organisations have had to please the often conflicting requirements of a variety of funding sources : local authorities ; the European Union ; the state (through the Arts Council) ; the National Lottery ; private philanthropy ; corporate sponsorship ; ticket sales.
Many museums and galleries in the 'regions' have been enduring an extended period of crisis, as a result of very significant cuts in local authority funding. Similarly, regional theatres, which have supplied the talent (actors and playwrights) which in the past have nourished London theatres, have been in a very precarious financial situation for a long time.
For a long time, theatres, orchestras, opera houses et al have, superficially, been in a state of rude health, as their administrators devise ever more creative ways (after all, these are the 'creative' industries) of staving off ruin. In fact, the arts have been in a state of prolonged retrenchment, in which too much of their 'creative ingenuity' has been used up in dodging proliferating crises and attempting to satisfy the conflicting demands of those who keep them going. The doctor has devised ever more ingenious ways of keeping the patient alive, but an existential problem arises when the oxygen supply is cut off. It would not be too tendentious to use this metaphor to describe the condition of the arts in Britain since March this year.
Britain's 'world beating creative industries' (to use that toxic combination of ebullient boosterism and constipated corporate managerial-speak which has disfigured our public life for too long) depend, crucially on 'the market', or 'bums on seats'. When the 'market' can no longer materialise, arts organisations face collapse, and their practitioners face destitution. This is the shocking and terrible reality for the arts in Britain, now. There is nothing romantic or inevitable about actors, musicians and those who support them facing extreme anxiety about making ends meet. In a country which values the arts (such as Germany), cultural organisations are not facing collapse. In Britain, where we value the arts provided we do not have to pay for them, they do. There are common international problems, such as the requirement for physical distancing in arts venues, which, as it is a distinct possibility that infectious diseases will proliferate in the future, may become a permanent feature. The problem is: will the arts be left to grapple with these problems on their own ?
There are several ways in which the arts can be 'justified'. One can point to their contribution to the Exchequer (the 'creative industries' argument) ; or one can discuss their role in the regeneration of cities ; one can propose that they promote national unity (as did Matthew Arnold in 'Culture and Anarchy') ; one can justify them because they promote individual and collective 'wellbeing.' However, there is one argument for the arts which is not utilitarian. It is this: that the arts are their own justification. They are so crucial to humanity's sense of itself that human existence would be unimaginable without them. Some of the earliest evidences of human existence (cave paintings) attest to this, as does the persistence of artistic invention in the most dire of circumstances, in concentration camps, for example. When I read a poem, contemplate a picture, listen attentively to a piece of music, I am both taken out of myself and further into myself. I experience an integration of mind, emotion and body which nothing else can offer. This is not passive consumption, but very active engagement. This experience is heightened when I have been fortunate enough to have been a performer, either as an actor or a singer. Although I refer to my own experience, I do not believe that I am alone in this.
Although I believe that there is much evidence that the arts are integral to humanity's sense of itself, it requires encouragement to foster this. Increasingly, over recent years, the Arts Council has required theatres, orchestras, dance companies et al to 'grow' their audiences, to become less 'elitist' and more 'accessible.' The problem here is that trends in education militate against this. The dominant state-directed trend in education (not applicable, it has to be noted, to private schools) has been Gradgrindian in its determined marginalisation of drama, dance and music. If people are not given the opportunity to experience the arts, either as performers or spectators during the period of their education, it diminishes the possibility that they will think of going anywhere near the arts in their adulthood. Another consequence is that future actors, musicians et al will come increasingly from the ranks of the privately educated. So much for 'diversity'.
Two other factors are formidable obstacles to many people engaging with the arts. One is that the ubiquity of so-called 'social' media tends to destroy the capacity for prolonged concentration which is needed to engage with any artistic activity ; the other is that television, which used to be able to ignite cultural interests among its audiences, no longer does this. The single play (as crafted by such masters as Dennis Potter, David Mercer and Jack Rosenthal) is virtually extinct. Television has immense potential to showcase art and music in performance, which is very under-utilised. Programmes which took it for granted that viewers desired intellectual exploration, such as Bryan Magee's series about philosophers, are virtually unknown. Much of this sort of programming, if it takes place at al, happens on BBC4, a subscription channel. It is no longer assumed that these things constitute vital elements of a common cultural life, or that any such thing exists at all any more. Instead, using the transparent excuse, of 'giving people what they want', so-called 'reality TV' has become a staple. Its persistence, despite the prurient voyeurism which it encourages and the demonstrable harm which it has engendered for participants, is a moral outrage. I am not pretending that there was ever a 'Golden Age' of television: there was always a lot of worthless, offensive rubbish. However, over the past thirty years, much that was valuable has been lost. If the television 'industry' has such a low pinion of its viewers' capacity for intellectual growth, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. The cultural situation in Britain is significantly worse, for the reasons outlined in this paragraph, than that which Richard Hoggart described quarter of a century ago in his "The way we live now" (1995), a book which is still well worth reading, for its eloquence, insight and wit.
To repeat: we have to decide, before the end of the year, whether the arts in Britain are to wither, perhaps irrevocably, or to flourish.