§ 3.17 p.m.
§ Lord Jenkins of Putney rose to call attention to the changes in arts policy announced by the Government and by the Arts Council; and to move for Papers.
§ The noble Lord said: My Lords, may I first of all congratulate the noble Viscount, Lord Eccles, on becoming a Companion of Honour. It is a high distinction, richly deserved, and it recognises his long record of service to the arts. When I was Minister the noble Viscount, Lord Eccles, was Chairman of the British Library, and together we decided to locate the library in the new building now going up in the Euston Road. I got to know him well. We have not always agreed but I have never had any doubt of his devotion to the arts nor of his quite exceptional knowledge. This award will be very widely welcomed.
§ Lord Jenkins of PutneyMy Lords, I beg to move the Motion standing in my name on the Order Paper. Your Lordships will have noted that it seeks to cover only changes in arts policy announced by the Government and by the Arts Council. Perhaps fortunately, it does not attempt to cover the wide range which caused some disapprobation in the other place last week. My text for the introductory remarks which 295 I am about to make—and I shall certainly endeavour not to exceed the time allocated to me—is some profound words of Winston Churchill; I mean, of course, the Winston Churchill. He said:
We are, more than we know, the creatures of our institutions.I repeat, we are, more than we know, the creatures of our institutions. It is one of those rare observations which cannot be uttered without one thinking immediately of instances illustrating its universal truth—it is true for everyone and for every institution. Sir Winston was thinking of Parliament, but it applies equally to the Arts Council.The nature of British art, particularly of the performance arts—their success and their failures, their strengths and weaknesses—is conditioned by the structure of arts patronage in this country. That is also true of the Soviet Union, the United States and everywhere else. Of course, the patronage structure is in itself the product of the society within which it exists, but these structures can change, and do change, and they reflect the best and the worst of their milieu and perhaps sometimes even both. A structure adequate at one stage can become inadequate at another.
There has been a great deal of talk about the famous arm's length principle—there was in the other place last week—but, as Mr. Tony Banks pointed out in that debate, the arm is connected to the body—in this case, the body politic. Nevertheless, in so far as the words mean that the Minister does not interfere in the artistic decisions of the Arts Council, and the Arts Council does not interfere in the artistic decisions of its beneficiaries, and Parliament interferes with neither, the arm's length principle is the most valuable institutional feature of arts subsidy in Britain.
It was precisely because of the lack of that principle that Socialist Realism became such a black farce in Eastern Europe during the Stalinist period. It is this principle that frees the artist to do his own thing; and in this country if that has sometimes meant carrying poles around the country on people's shoulders at the public expense, that was a small price to pay for the immense international prestige which accrued from the burgeoning of British art which was a feature of recent decades.
We are still living in that effulgence, and the crime of The Glory of the Garden is that, through sheer lack of humility and of understanding of the nature and consequences of subsidy, and of its withdrawal, and through lack of appreciation of the application of the Churchillian dictum to the arts, the Arts Council and the Government together are about to damage the very garden whose glory they seek to celebrate. The funereal appearance of this booklet is all too appropriate.
The combination of Jennie Lee as Minister, Lord Goodman as chairman and Sir Hugh Willatt as secretary general was a fine period in the development of the Arts Council, and under them another principle of arts patronage in this country was established. Less well known than the arm's length one, it is no less important. It was named by Hugh Willatt, that most unsung of secretaries general, the response theory of patronage. It meant that if there was a demand, you 296 tried to meet it; you did as little selection as possible; you kept up the financial support if you could, and, if there was a decline in quality, you nevertheless persisted because organisations and people change, and what is low achievement in one year can be high the next; you tried wherever possible to avoid withdrawing subsidy.
All that has changed. This mistaken document seeks to cover the errors of existing policy with some threadbare theoretical propositions. As Lord Goodman pointed out in an article in the Observer which was published before the publication of this document, 41 companies were axed last year and now many more are to go. To quote Lord Goodman:
It is fervently to be hoped that the 'new strategy' "—he puts it in inverted commas—
will not be too wounding to what many of us regard as the real fabric of civilisation".If he were here, I fear that Lord Goodman would be telling us that the hope has been very considerably disappointed. Incidentally, the noble Lord, Lord Goodman, regrets his absence, but I am happy to say that his mobility is improving, and I hope that he will again be bringing his unique, if all too rare, contributions to our discussions before too long.As long ago as 1974, when I became Arts Minister, I saw that the Arts Council would inevitably travel in the wrong direction unless something was done. I saw that not because of any special perspicacity but because I had served on both the drama panel and the council itself, and, because of this experience, I knew what the temptations were, what the problems were and what the tendencies were.
From being a mere arts adjunct—a means of keeping the Royal Opera House and a few other things going after the war—the council had gradually developed into the country's main means of arts support. A structure which was adequate for the perhipheral Arts Council disposing of a few thousand pounds was totally inadequate for a body whose existence was now central to the arts—a body which would soon be deploying tens of millions of pounds and then a hundred million or more. The process was inevitable. It became clear to me that the arm's length principle could not be sustained, and neither could the response theory of patronage, unless some changes were made in the structure of the council.
There was a straight choice. If nothing was done, as its responsibilities increased the council would inevitably become more bureaucratic, and the power of decision-making would eventually reside in the hands of a small group regarded by the Government as reliable and they would make all the decisions. So both the response theory and the arm's length principle—the twin bastions of our artistic excellence—would eventually go, and with them the sole remaining point at which Britain still stands high in the world.
It will be said that the council's proposals for devolution to the regional arts associations are a decentralisation of the decision-making power. There is some truth in that, but the days are long gone when the regional associations were seen to have the function intended by Jennie Lee (now my noble friend 297 Lady Lee). They are now no longer independently financed, and are now for the most part conduits through which some of the Arts Council's money is channelled; and with the money lies the power: he who pays the piper calls the tune.
The gross centralisation which has been a feature of this Government is particularly pernicious in the arts, where multiplicity of patronage source is vital. The replacement of the money given by the GLC and the metropolitan counties, whether it be £4 million or £7 million short, is not the main problem. What about next year? Will the Government find another £34 million or more?
§ Lord Jenkins of PutneyMy Lords, we have the answer already.
§ Lord Jenkins of PutneyMy Lords, that means disaster so far as the present beneficiaries of the GLC and the metropolitan counties are concerned—absolute disaster—and it is vital that those organisations be maintained in being, because they are the roots from which the rest of the structure grows. The Minister quite cheerfully casts them aside.
§ Lord Jenkins of PutneyMy Lords, another thing that makes the Minister's response, if I may say so, extremely regrettable, if not philistine, in its character is this. Not only is the money to be lost but the essential plurality is to be lost. This is the point. Five sources of finance for the arts are to go, and they can never be replaced except by replacing the authorities themselves.
Power is centripetal and will coagulate in the heart of any institution if positive steps are not taken to the contrary. Since in the case of the Arts Council we wish to avoid control by the Government—I would hope that there is universal agreement with that proposition—the only way to fend off oligarchy is the establishment of internal democracy, not only by devolution, but by making the council itself responsive.
At the moment all power flows from the top. These seem to me to be unexceptionable Conservative principles which I am uttering. If the Lord Chancellor were here, I am sure that he would confirm that they form a part of his book on the subject. At present, however, the Government appoint the council, and the council appoints everyone else, so it is state control at one remove, saved only by the two principles that I have described. Now that they are going—one of them has gone and the other is on the way—the situation can be saved only by providing that the Arts Council shall become accountable, at least in part, to its own constituents.
The flow of power must be reversed, and local authorities, managerial associations, trade unions, interest societies and regional arts associations must be 298 given some influence to counteract that of the state. There must be some flow upwards from the grass roots to the point where the decisions are made if the whole structure is not to become ossified and with it the condition of British art. May I remind you again, my Lords, of the Churchillian dictum
We are, more than we know."—the essential words are "more than we know"—the creatures of our institutions".I may be asked why I did not introduce a democratic structure in the arts while I was Minister. I tried, and this is not the place to say why I failed. Nor is there the time. The strange tale can be read. Here, it is enough to say that he who tries to take power away from the centre needs strong allies. Without them, he will not win even with a manifesto commitment to fulfil and however eager he may be to fulfil it.Meanwhile, I wish to approach my conclusions. I am not among those who want to lambast the Minister in spite of his insensitive remarks just now. He has an impossible task—three jobs to do and the most appalling Government in recent history to do them in. It is remarkable that he has done as well as he has. But he has to deal with the consequences of monetarism which are violently centralist and intolerant of any competing locus of power: hence, the proposal to abolish the GLC and the metropolitan authorities. The Minister's desperate and hopeless efforts to mitigate the appalling artistic consequences of that mistake cannot be entirely successful. He cannot negate the consequences. It is up to this House to do what it can to mitigate those consequences in the course of the discussions that we are having on the question of the Greater London Council and the metropolitan authorities.
As to the Arts Council, here again the role of this House must be to give aid, comfort and support to all those who are being chopped—to Opera 80, to Hornchurch, to the cut in literature, all those things. In the meantime, the Minister should publish the Government's comments on the report of the House of Commons Education, Science and Arts Committee on the effect of the abolition of the GLC and the metropolitan counties on support for the arts. In the artistic garden, the role of state as patron is not to decide what shall be planted and what shall be rooted out. It is simply to provide the climate within which the artist may flourish. By the arts, we mean all those gifted with creative interpretative skills—the painters, composers, poets, writers, performers and presenters who together are the people who make the human race more than a collection of violent and self-destructive animals. I beg to move for Papers.
§ 3.32 p.m.
§ Viscount EcclesMy Lords, the noble Lord, Lord Jenkins of Putney, has said some very kind things about me. I hope that they are true. Anyhow, it is very agreeable to hear them, and I thank him. The noble Lord reminded us that when he was Minister, he wanted the Arts Council to be more democratic. I am bound to say that I took that to mean that he wanted his political friends to get on to the council.
§ Lord Jenkins of PutneyCertainly not, my Lords.
§ Viscount EcclesMy Lords, it has always been my view that one should not try to persuade any artist to play politics. On the other hand, I agree with him, I think, that we ought to be much clearer than we are as to what is really the role of the arts in British life, and for this reason. Any society will go to pieces if all values and all forms of art are held to be equally important or equally unimportant. In art, as in everything else, we must distinguish between the good and the bad. Holding that view, I should like our public policy for the arts to be based on what history has taught us about human nature. What sort of creatures are we? What part can the arts play in making life better for everyone? We know that we are all different. So we all need ladders of artistic experience, some short, some long, but suited to our very various capacities and tastes.
Therefore, for me, the key question is whether the Arts Council today aims at a wide enough provision of the arts. That would be a change in direction. While their funds were modest, their grants were bound to create élites. I do not complain about that. The more restricted the resources, the more sensible it is to take quality as a factor which determines where every penny goes. But now that the budget has risen to a considerable size, it should be possible for them to do more to help the arts on every level.
Is that what the council intend to do? Their paper, the Glory in the Garden, seems to be a move in the right direction—a small move, but a good one. Somehow, I do not yet feel sure that at 105, Piccadilly, they are determined to fight every obstacle that keeps art a luxury. Why is it that some of us continue to read Shakespeare's plays and to visit the National Gallery? Surely, it must be that great works of art tell us something about ourselves. Proust did not ask for readers of his book. He asked for readers to read themselves in his hook. I have a friend who gets hold of anything he can about Michelangelo. But he tells me that he still has a private personal message for him alone from that great sculptor.
Not nearly enough people in our country enjoy that kind of experience. And with all the tensions in our society today, we need to find what more we have in common. If the Coal Board and the National Union of Mineworkers were thoroughly familiar with Shakespeare's play Coriolanus, do not your Lordships think that they would understand better how anger and conflict between the two sides destroys both?
Obviously, a policy of the arts for everyone means facing the fact that when the demand for a product is on the point of great increase—and so it is in the arts—then the supply of that product requires a different business—new techniques that have not been used before. I give your Lordships a homely example. When I was a child, if we had a chicken for dinner it had to be a free-range bird. There were no supermarkets and no broilers then. Now chicken is in every kitchen. The flavour may not be quite so fine but the new industry has brought a good meal to millions of households. Some such expansion in the arts is possible. Of that, I feel sure. But it requires closer co-operation with the schools and with adult education, much more advertising and more help from television and radio.
300 What then should be the test to which all the council's actions should be put, whatever they choose to do? Experience has convinced me that we never shall have a good educational policy or a good arts policy unless it is more or less non-political and firmly based on the values that hold society together. Material progress is not going to bridge the gap between those who now enjoy the arts and those who do not. One must remember that individuals create works of art, not governments or quangos. The appeal of art is not to mass movements or pressure groups but to single hearts and minds. I am saying in conclusion that the Arts Council should now be ready to help as many people as possible to think straight as well as to feel deeply.
The aesthetic emotion, fascinating though it is, is not enough. For 99 out of 100 members of the public, the subject of a work of art matters as much as the way in which it is expressed. As I understand it, artists in all ages, except perhaps in the immediate past, have realised this. They do not have to be professors of morals but they do have to express the human condition. Nothing so concerns the human condition as good and evil. Therefore, if we encourage the Arts Council to care about the vigour and spirit of our country, if we are seen by artists and by the public to be fighting every obstacle which keeps art a luxury, then we shall be on the road to a good arts policy.
§ 3.41 p.m.
§ Lord RaglanMy Lords, the Minister may be relieved that I am not going to attack him. Indeed, I think he has done very well to get as much money as he has, in the present climate. He and the Arts Council are in the position of never having enough money for what they would like, and, besides, the greater part of it is always bespoken in the interests of continuity.
As I read it, after much thought about a new strategy more nearly to reflect Keynes' devolutionary ideas, with which I agree, the new team at the Arts Council has come up with what looks to me like a 5 per cent. shift in expenditure over two years. That does not seem to represent a great change in direction, though no doubt other shifts of emphasis in policy can change much as well. Time does not permit me to say as much about that as I should like, so for the moment I have only one criticism of the council's declared intentions.
First, I want to comment on the role of the council and the regional arts associations as patrons of music. The chairman takes as his text, for his preface to the strategy document, this very apt quotation from Kipling. That same quatrain came to my mind one cold night last February when I was helping to shove a harpsichord into the back of a van after a concert of mid-eighteenth century music given in a large theatre outside Bath, where. I may say, there was standing room only. So I am one of the very mans' who are extremely pleased with the council's intention, expressed in paragraph 59, to give more help to early music.
I am, However, less sure about the preceding paragraph, paragraph 58. What is wrong with contemporary music that the council has to say out loud that it is concerned about enhancing its status? To find an answer, I believe one might look again at the 301 chairman's preface, where he quotes, with evident approval, Keynes' view of artists. That view had me concerned for a while, until I got to page 6 of the document, where there duly appears a list of council men, if I may call them that, all with broken dinner knives—in fact, no fewer than 14 of them; sharp ones.
Of course, one could not run the outfit without having such a list, yet it seems to me that this kind of list is itself at odds with Keynes' declared sentiments, if I may quote them. Keynes said:
Everyone, I fancy, recognises that the work of the artist in all its aspects is, of its nature, individual and free, undisciplined, unregimented, uncontrolled. The artist walks where the breath of the spirit blows him".One has difficulty in believing, from that passage, that the great man was himself married to a ballerina. Surely she was not undisciplined and uncontrolled. And he must have been too perceptive not to know that, like every great artist, her art was based on two fundamentals—on the one hand (or foot), hard work and self-discipline, and, on the other, a continual awareness of her audience and what they hoped for from her, for why else would they come to see her dance? I think he must have known this, yet he chose to disregard it; and I cannot help thinking he believed that some such sentiment would go down well with the people he was trying to prise money out of, to fund the council.He was repeating a popular myth, to the effect that the true artist goes his own way without regard to anyone else, while we, the public, must follow, whether we like it or not. The myth alleges that the great artists of the past were rejected by their contemporaries, and only time has proved their merit. Certainly it takes time for an artist to establish himself, and more time to get his work in perspective. But, as I read history, it is rare for the public not to have recognised great artists in their lifetime. Indeed, in the public search for heroes they have been inclined to award more praise than time has shown was strictly merited.
Perhaps I shall be told, as I have been told, by way of contradiction, something to the effect, "They said Beethoven was mad". In fact, "they" (meaning his contemporaries) did not say that. That was said by Cherubini, who was a rival composer and was feeling rather unkind that day. If one actually reads opinions of Beethoven by his contemporaries, one finds that in reality he was adulated, and adulated to such an extent that it appears to have embarrassed him. This romantic myth of rejected genius is unhealthy for art, and its effect in the end is perverse, because one gets to a position where the more positively the public rejects the work, the greater, in the opinion of some, is the genius of the creator; and this has been a recipe for disaster.
Where anyone who says he is an artist is always clever, and the public, if it disagrees, is silly, one ends up with what the public dislikes, and in great measure that is what has happened. The curse of the concertgoer is when well-meaning programme makers push in a piece which the captive audience would otherwise have avoided. They would have avoided it because they feel that the composer has been discouraged from considering the sensibilities of his listeners and believes 302 it is the duty of an audience to listen to whatever the breath of the spirit has blown him this time.
I think that is tragic, for our present loss must be great. I am consoled by having access to quantities of music which was composed in an era when these lopsided artistic values did not obtain. As the council is going to sponsor more contemporary music, I hope that it will think well about this matter, bearing in mind that, if the same criteria of judgment that everyone applies to performing musicians were applied to composers, there would be more new music to which people would be wanting to listen.