Reprinted with permission from The Art Newspaper, No. 177, February 2007 

 

More cash for artists? A defence of the status quo
An economist stands up for the US system of funding the arts

  
Anyone who has ever had to fill out a grant application, hustle a wealthy donor, evaluate the relative merits of accepting a corporate sponsorship – or face the prospect of having their programme be stuck in the mud – knows that there are up- and down-sides to the multiplex that is America’s funding structure for the arts. Wouldn’t it be easier if artists and cultural institutions could skip all this, and simply receive the funds they need – indeed deserve – from the local, state, or federal government? Wouldn’t guaranteed government funding alleviate corporate and/or commercial pressures on art and artists? 

One of most compelling aspects of the book is its ruthless evenhandedness. For example, Dr Cowen explores a number of the fashionable rationales used to justify arts expenditures, such as the economic impact that the arts can have on a community, or the claims for a “multiplier” effect that makes the value of such investments exponentially greater. But, Dr Cowen notes, such arguments all too often assume a zero-sum basis for these “investments”: that if the funds did not go to support the arts, they would not be well-deployed to produce some other social benefit, either through another kind of community investment or perhaps by returning the funds to the taxpayers. This is not to say that the claims made for the economic impact of the arts are untrue, but rather that it is difficult to prove them conclusively.

 

Similarly, Dr Cowen provides a thorough analysis of direct and indirect government subsidies – both their financial impact on the arts, and the arguments made for or against them. He notes that per capita tax-generated subsidies for the National Endowment for the Arts never rose above 65¢ per person per year. Of course, while arts supporters argue that this is a tiny amount of money, the traditional “conservative” complaint about such expenditures is not normally based on the total dollars, but rather about government control over the resulting art and whether the government should be engaged in such activities in the first place. Direct government subsidies are balanced by the U.S.’s robust system of indirect subsidies, allowing its citizens to claim tax deductions for contributions they make directly to non-profit programmes of interest to them. Dr Cowen cites figures that Americans contributed $29.4bn directly to the arts in 2003, or roughly $100 per person – certainly a lot more than the 65¢ per person allocation through Federal taxes in support of the NEA.

 

Perhaps the most entrenched, and most clichéd, perspective on the core debate in American arts funding concerns the NEA, and it goes like this: hardcore, arts-hating conservatives remain depressed that they cannot kill the NEA, while hardcore, arts-loving liberals remain depressed that it has so little power. In his last chapter, Dr Cowen re-frames this stagnant debate, arguing that American art thrives through an ingenious combination of small direct subsidies and immense indirect subsidies, such as copyright law and tax policies that encourage nonprofits and charitable giving. This decentralized and rather random system results in a more creative, diverse, abundant, and politically unencumbered arts policies than those that obtain in Europe. Good and Plenty is a welcome addition to critical thought on American arts policy and should prove to be of value for policy-makers and culture vultures alike.

 

If we accept Dr Cowen’s thesis – that the “American [arts funding] model encourages artistic creativity, keeps the politicisation of art to a minimum, and brings economics and aesthetics into a symbiotic relationship”, we also have to ask about the implied threat to the arts from a different funding system, as well as about the role of competition in the arts. It is difficult to point to alternative funding models as being by definition bad for the arts, at least without reverting to the extremes of history, e.g., Soviet-style funding monoliths (with enforced arts union memberships, and an unappealing approach to “accountability” if someone found your art distasteful).

 

While the last decade has seen a shift in the traditional, Western European model of arts funding – again, largely government financed – the history of post-World War II Europe is hardly one of deprived artists or suffering organizations. Indeed, America’s cultural elites have often looked enviously to Europe’s seemingly-bountiful arts programs and heavily-subsidized ticket prices. Is this better or worse than our own model? I think if we put aside any emotional fears about government influence on artistic content, the best argument for the American arts funding model may be simple economics: don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Diversification not only protects and promotes a broad range of artistic interests, it ensures that the damage to any one source of funds has a more limited impact on the cultural landscape as a whole. Without being too cynical about it, I would argue that the best evidence for this might be found within the history of the NEA itself: while the diminishment of its resources and scope certainly affected many artists and organisations, other funding sources arose and, contrary to expressed fears, America’s arts scene did not collapse. If anything, the period in which the NEA has been at its weakest financially has corresponded with a period of substantial growth for arts institutions across the country.

 

Of course, multiple funding sources, all with different interests and goals, means competition for those dollars. Some may take the view that this kind of competition has no place in the world of the fine arts. How can we truly prize one artist or organization above another? Isn’t the decision not to fund an artist an implicit comment on their work or value? To which I say: Yes, absolutely.  If there is an anomaly in the history of arts funding, it would be a period where every artist was supported impartially and all art was valued equally. Artists have competed for prestigious commissions and financial support for centuries, a system that inspired many of the symphonies, paintings, sculptures, architecture, and other works of art we most admire. While there might be such a thing as too much competition, too little can engender complacency, even in the arts.

 

When we talk about funding cultural projects, there are two truths we should keep in mind: every artist and organization will always want more financial support, and the pool of funds will always be finite. Generally speaking, I agree with Tyler Cowen’s analysis and his recommendations for evolving U.S. arts policies, but I would go one step further and say that those of us working in the arts in America should be grateful for the robust, creative atmosphere we enjoy. It is all too easy to imagine a very different kind of book on arts funding, not to mention a dramatically different degree of support for the arts and culture.