All around the world, a succession of arts organisations across all sectors have come under pressure from artists – surely their first and most important stakeholders – to “take a stand” on a range of topical issues from the climate crisis to Israel’s war on Gaza. If artists engage with the issues of the day, what is the appropriate response of the boards and managers of arts organisations?
On Monday we saw the resignation of Kathy Shand, chair of the Sydney writers’ festival. Obviously individual board members, like donors, have every right to decide the values of an organisation do not align with their own.
They also have every right to take their chequebooks elsewhere. Boards are responsible for hiring and firing their artistic directors, for setting strategy and managing risks. A cursory survey of the composition of Australian arts boards would reveal they are filled almost entirely by generalists – directors with financial, legal and marketing expertise. Those skills are essential. However, knowledge of the particular art form is rare indeed. Having appointed an artistic director, it is incumbent upon boards to uphold the former’s vision. Opinions are to be welcomed but expertise must surely trump the former.
Earlier this month we saw the scandal unravel at Creative Australia after the newly appointed opposition spokesperson for the arts, Senator Claire Chandler, saw an opportunity in parliament to ask why Khaled Sabsabi had been appointed as Australia’s artist to the 2026 Venice Biennale. Her “concern” was prompted by a work made 20 years ago that purportedly “highlighted a terrorist leader”. Obviously visual literacy isn’t in the modern politician’s job description, which is why independent expert panels are so important when it comes to judgments about art and culture.
Rescinding the invitation to Sabsabi six days after lauding his appointment is a victory for those who briefed Chandler. Creative Australia has now commissioned a review, suggesting the advisory process was flawed.
This most recent controversy – only the latest in a long series of pre-emptive self-censoring gestures by Australian arts organisations – suggests the direct threat facing the arts is from within.
Justifying its about-face, Creative Australia stated “the board believes a prolonged and divisive debate about the 2026 selection outcome poses an unacceptable risk to public support for Australia’s artistic community”. This managerial-speak obscures at least one dubious assertion – that public support exists for Australian artists. However, it is a claim that we need to take seriously: art, in this (quietist) vision, is the business of consensus. The purpose of art is apparently to affirm the status quo.
If “divisiveness” (taken here to mean dissent) is deemed “unacceptable” by Australia’s leading arts body, what then are we to make of its mandate – “to uphold and promote freedom of expression in the arts”? This constitutional obligation seems to have been overlooked in the rush to appease critics with a megaphone.
It can be difficult to see what is in plain sight, in part because of the banality of the language. Such a pre-emptive capitulation is not merely a rebuke to the artist and a convenient amnesia regarding the board’s charter, but more importantly a hostility to art itself.
Once upon a time Creative Australia’s role was in part to advocate for the arts to government and the community. That task seems to have been abandoned, with the peak arts body reduced to apportioning sorely needed funds. However, the cancellation of Sabsabi is just the latest in a litany of governance failures across all art forms in recent years. Perhaps Creative Australia could show some urgently needed leadership and convene a national conversation to re-establish trust between artists, arts managers, boards and supporters.
The scandal highlights just how fraught the relationship between boards, management and artists has become. The corporatisation of arts boards all too often paradoxically results in amateurish governance, increasing reliance on philanthropy and sponsorship and a concomitant escalation in influence over artistic decisions.
What we have seen both at Creative Australia and now with Shand’s resignation is a confusion of roles, a disrespect for the important separation of powers. Personal views of curatorial judgments are simply personal and should not displace the principle of the artist’s freedom of expression or the independence of curators.
Many artists feel a moral obligation to use their voices and their art to speak to the injustices and cruelties of the times. Would we wish artists to be indifferent, to narcissistically ignore the world in which they make their art? Even the 19th century artist in his (most often male) garret could not be immune to the life outside his door.
In 2023 three actors in Sydney took a curtain call wearing keffiyeh. The usual cultural sentries hyperventilated, ratcheting up outrage across column acres. On opening night, well-heeled titans of commerce and finance became suddenly fearful in their premium seats, feeling intimidated by impecunious artists with different opinions.
These captains of industry closed their chequebooks. Emails circulated encouraging donors across the nation to join them and withdraw funding from those arts organisations who had responded to artists’ demands for statements calling for a ceasefire and an end to the occupation.
Historically donors tended to prefer the anonymity of genuine philanthropy free from self-aggrandisement. What has changed is the sense of entitlement: donations now come with expectations, seats at the board table and judgments about curatorial decisions. Now donors want relationships with the organisations they choose to support: naming of buildings and programs, expectations of invitations, of being feted and of the omnipresent complimentary tickets. When accepting the corporate or donor dime it is probably worth recalling the aphorism that one needs a long spoon to sup with the devil.
Last year Baillie Gifford, one of the largest corporate sponsors of the arts (and in particular of literary culture) in the UK withdrew its support from literary festivals after a Fossil Free Books (FFB) campaign linked its protest to the climate crisis and Israel’s war on Gaza. Some festival organisers felt “bullied” by the artist-activists’ threat of a boycott of their events and were encouraged by some literary luminaries with opposing views to resist the pressure. Hay festival lost £130,000, Edinburgh international book festival £350,000. At least 10 UK literary festivals are now imperilled as a consequence. This means fewer opportunities for writers to discuss their work, promote their books and publicise their concerns before huge and attentive crowds.
Was the FFB campaign a smart strategy? One writer asked why activists had not focused on the “real enemies” – calling on colleagues to “withdraw their labour” and strike against the Murdocracy for example, by refusing to publish with Harper Collins, or demanding to be deleted from the Times bestseller lists. Another argued that among all corrupt and complicit corporations, Baillie Gifford is a mere minnow.
Those of us working in arts organisations share gallows humour while spending endless executive hours drafting risk analyses to assuage nervous boards. The reality is that risk is inevitable, buffeted by mass-media opinionistas and social-media warriors. So artists require boards with fortitude and a commitment to support the artistic vision. There needs to be a shared recognition that art is by its very nature unpredictable, all arts consumers can never be satisfied, and box-office revenues can’t be guaranteed.
So, what might good cultural leadership look like? The tail should not wag the dog – those tails include the government of the day, directors, donors and sponsors. When boards resent the pressure they feel from artists, they seem to forget that organisations exist to enable artists and their work.
When Adelaide writers’ week in 2023 showcased Palestinian contemporary writing, there was a media flurry engineered by antagonists. I remember the leadership shown by the former chair of Adelaide festival who robustly responded to the withdrawal of one sponsor by asserting perhaps they weren’t the sort of sponsor we wanted.
Arts organisations require directors with legal, financial and political expertise. But directors must understand the organisation’s core business. Boards need an appetite for risk, clarity in their mandate and confidence in both the art form and the audience. Artists need to be appointed to arts boards and to be taken seriously.
Finally, government relationships must continue to be at arms length, holding fast to the principle of curatorial independence. The long-term sustainability of arts organisations is under threat, once again, from a lack of funding, poor governance, declining and ageing audiences and a lack of courageous leadership.
• Louise Adler’s professional life has been in the cultural sphere as a board member, publisher and artistic director. This is an adapted extract of her essay Culture, Money and Morals in What’s the Big Idea? 34 Ideas for a Better Australia (Australia Institute Press)
