Policy 101 for Artists

What is your opinion of publicly funded art?
What kind of art should the government subsidize directly?
Should the government give money to the arts at all?

Your answers to these questions probably reflect your own values. People have an
extraordinary power when they are passionate about something, such as making art.
One goal may be to foster and develop that feeling in others. Another goal may include
educating people to understand this passion and why it is so special. Or someone may
force others to witness this passion. When we decide what to do with our opinions and
beliefs, we are forming our own personal policies.

At what point do values become political? When a group of people or individual decides that their values should be recognized and observed by the community at large, the politics of policy
begins. Everyone has an opinion about how local or federal money should be spent on what programs. But if you are passionate, your obligation as a citizen warrants involvement.

In order to effect change, we must understand the role of values in the policy-making process.
Simply put, policy is comprised of goals (what effect do we want to have?), values
(what is our objective?) and practices (how will implement it?). Policies originate in response to a perceived problem. The decisions encompassing which problems to address and how
is why our Representatives in Congress and our Senators sit around and listen to each other's arguements all day. Even some of the simple policies in our own households are difficult to reach an agreement on. Who will take the garbage out? Who will pay for the toilet paper?

Most federal policies address the basic needs of the nation, which makes funding for the
arts a highly debatable subject. We have seen arts advocates define the problem, yet fail to devise actions which could positively effect national arts policy. We have also seen anti-NEA factions lobbying their Representatives and succeeding. All of these actors can be considered involved in the "play of power." As Charles Lindblom states, " ‘power’ is always held by a number of persons rather than by one; hence policy is made through the complex processes by which these persons exert power or influence over each other" (The Policy-Making Process 29). This play of power is highly volatile, forever swaying with public sentiment, national trends, the media and other players. Therefore, "Even the best policy imaginable, as judged in ethical terms, may be impossible to put into effect because of the resistance of persons who will be harmed by it or consider it undesirable or the inaction of persons who give it low priority" (MacRae & Wilde 11). How can the arts, seen by many as extraneous, elitist and inaccessible,
gain prominence and importance?

Artists must concern themselves with becoming "policy entrepreneurs;" constantly developing viable proposals and solutions. John Kingdon in Agendas, Alternatives and Public Policies notes that policy entrepreneurs are specialists who wait for the opportunity to push their "pet projects." Often a personal interest spurs the initiative. The federal arts projects of the 1930s was suggested to President Roosevelt by an old school buddy, George Biddle (this also demonstrating: it's who you know). He seized the right moment to offer his proposal, what Kingdon calls a "policy window." Issues and current events suddenly gain prominence when a window opens, "because they can be seen as solutions to pressing problems or because politicians find their sponsorship expedient" (Kingdon 182). A successful proposal recognizes the problem and attaches a solution. Artists must open their eyes and ears, searching out problems to attach their ideas to and recognizing opportunities to elevate the arts on the agenda. The realistic proposal also considers the national mood, as well. The current conservative atmosphere in Congress discourages big spending programs and grandiose ideas. However local communities are developing community arts projects well suited to
their own unique constituencies.