WRITER'S FESTIVALS

I have to confess that I've never been to a writer's festival. I love reading books but I'm not that interested in hearing authors talk about why they've written them let alone people talking about why they think writers may have written them. I broke my own rule a couple of years ago and went to listen to a writer talk - and I was bored witless.

So I'm no position to comment on the loss of this year's Adelaide Festival from the audience perspective. 

I do have opinions on the Festival Board that started the kerfuffle but while I'm acting Executive Director of the WA Chamber of Commerce, I'll restrain myself. However, in that role, I have made a comment about the censorship in the Chamber's newsletter:

“Creative freedom matters, and artists must be able to speak, write and create without fear of political interference or institutional pressure. Boycotts are never undertaken lightly. When artists withdraw from a program, it signals that trust has broken down. Restoring that trust requires transparency, accountability and genuine engagement,” said Ms Tonks."

But a much better set of comments comes from Professor Julian Meyrick writing about a similar debacle with the Bendigo Writers Festival. Just in case you haven't read his piece in The Conversation, here are his four arguments about why Writers Festivals are good things:

They are spaces of craft expression, and they have a job to do. Part of that is to communicate the views of the those involved within the limits that the law allows. Why is this good for society as a whole, and not just the arts? There are four main reasons.

Because controversy and conflict find disciplined expression in these events. On the whole, arts events are curated, moderated and characterised by protocols of turn-taking, active listening and mutual respect. They are courteous spaces––certainly more courteous than the rottweiler politics of the Canberra bubble, or the unpredictable ructions of mass protest. Yes, they can provoke indignation and noisy push-back. But better red wine chucked in the foyer than red blood spilt in the street. People disagree with each other, sometimes bitterly. Arts events organise that anger and belligerence in productive ways. There are exceptions. Typically, they don’t end up with formal expulsions or the police turning up in Lenco Bearcats.

Julian Meyrick

Because statements at such events reflect the thoughts, feelings, and imaginative scope of artists’ creative practices. Arts events invite responses from their participants that are connected and accountable in the fullest sense. They offer the opposite of anonymous on-line chat rooms, and dysregulated twitter threads. They are spaces where views can be articulated and received in personal and committed ways. Even when the opinions voiced are hard to hear, their human context is plainly evident. This may even give arts events a therapeutic function, helping us to constructively manage difficult emotions that might otherwise prompt undesirable social conflict.

Because sometimes societies don’t know what to do, and artists can air controversial, unpopular or marginal views in a non-compromising way. Say, for example, you are a leader faced with a topic or situation that is polarizing the public. Say, too, that pronouncing a definitive judgement one way or another forecloses scope for effective action. Under these circumstances adopting a ‘let one hundred flowers bloom‘ stance is both rational and right. It makes sense to allow artists to engage divisive topics when other domains cannot. The more constrained leaders feel themselves to be, the more vital it is to let legitimate debate flourish elsewhere so that different opinions can be subject to the light of public scrutiny.

Because artists have views worth hearing in themselves. This is a tough sell in a country where the arts are often portrayed as ‘elitist’ with no contribution to make beyond boosting aggregate policy targets (economic growth, social cohesion, health & well-being blah, blah). But artists have a perspective which differs from that of politicians, academics or community activists (though the roles are not mutually exclusive). If that seems a wildcard, it may be worth playing when no other path forward can be found. The arts are, after all, something to love. We can appreciate a book, play, song or painting (or try to) regardless of the politics of the person responsible for creating it. As such, arts events offer the potential for finding common ground––a meeting place where people who have talked themselves into a corner can begin the challenging business of talking themselves out of it.

I highly recommend that you read the whole article.