by APAP President and CEO Lisa Richards Toney
As an American living and working in Washington, DC, during an election year, it is impossible to not feel the freneticism and the gravity of the moment.
Certainly, we are not alone. Elections for national offices are happening in more than 60 countries, home to nearly half the people on the planet. This year is the “world’s biggest election year”, with TIME magazine referring to 2024 as “the make-or-break year for democracy.” And yet, the world’s eyes are on us. The impacts are seismic.
In the US, the last few months have been punctuated by breaking news from “34 Felony Counts” to “Disastrous Debate Performance”, to “Attempted Assassination”, to “Do you think you just fell out of a coconut tree?” I’m writing this in early August, and I’m confident there will have been many more headlines by the time it is published, with more to come.
As an arts leader, I often find myself nestled in conversations that leave me on the margins, wishing that politicians could see the world as I do. The divisive culture that dominates political spaces is not foreign to me, but it is quite toxic.
This I know to be true about the arts:
We in the arts are not a divisive bunch by the very nature of our cause. We fuel creative expression. We bring people together for a collective experience. We invite strangers to sit side-by-side, to absorb the complexity of another’s reality or point-of-view as performed by artists on stage.
Having spent 95 percent of my career in the arts, this act
of sitting with an idea, an experience, or another reality
trained my disposition. In the arts, grappling with depth and resisting the temptation to reduce everything to a sound bite
is the norm.
We listen and give space. In the arts, the song, the dance, the dialogue, is not interrupted. You can’t debate it before it’s over. You are just there, and you must just be!
Sure, you can absolutely disagree. Patriotism is a battled-over (and often abused) concept in American politics. A patriot in the true sense of the word is allowed and encouraged to criticise, and in theatre decorum, you can’t holler out your disagreement. First, you must listen.
Inevitably, the ears, the mind, and the heart open. As part of the audience, you suspend disbelief and enter a world that is taking shape right before you, sourced from the depths of lives lived or imagined. (A high five to the writers, choreographers, designers, dramaturgs, and directors who bring it!) The more you exercise your ability to be expansive, the easier it gets.
Play is at the heart of the arts experience. We try on roles and ideas, and if we’re lucky, wrestle with at least one that is truly uncomfortable. This tension is an essential process from which burgeons tolerance, critical thinking, creativity, emotional intelligence, humility, compassion… the list is long.
This perspective-building helps individuals to navigate, mediate, and innovate in this big, wide world. In my opinion, these are traits and skills critical to civic leadership.
The arts provide hope. They ignite the imagination. In the same TIME article, researchers say that hopelessness is the source of our widespread yearning for change in this political year. The converse is also true. People across the world are energised by hope, a belief in “what can be, unburdened by what has been”. We must continue to be the peddlers of hope.
Artistic expression is inherently democratic. We regularly disrupt entrenched constructs and hierarchies that otherwise limit people or “keep them in their place”. Instead, the marginalised are encouraged to follow their own destinies. Politicians should aspire to uplift those voices. The powerful must listen.
And much like democracy, the arts are messy, and we sometimes get it wrong.
Of course, I am concerned about how my people—arts professionals—will fare under the political options before us. History tells us that authoritarian regimes do not mix well with truth-telling and free expression. Our democratic values insist on free and fair elections, absent of political violence, which are essential to the continuation of democracy.
In the meantime, I encourage those who believe in the arts as I do, to join me in raising our voices. Together, we can seed a vision where our unique intelligence is integral to strong political leadership. After all, we are an ecosystem, and it will take us all to fulfil this most urgent calling to restore civility and preserve democracy.
Let me close with the words of Wynton Marsalis:
Jazz music is the perfect metaphor for democracy.
We improvise, which is our individual rights and freedoms;
We swing, which means we are responsible to nurture the common good, with everyone in fine balance;
And we play the blues, which means no matter how bad things get, we remain optimistic while still mindful of problems.
Lastly, he asks, “The question that confronts us right now as a nation is, ‘Do we want to find a better way?’
