Downing Street Years - Margaret Thatcher [392]
THE ARTS
Perhaps nowhere were the proper limits of what the state should do more hotly disputed than in the world of the arts. The proponents of subsidies would stress that the state today was only performing the role of generous private patrons of the past, that access to artistic treasures must not depend on personal wealth and — more practically — that every other country subsidized the arts and therefore we must too. Against that — and this was significantly the view of Nick Ridley, the only member of the Government who could really paint — it could be argued that no artist had a right to a living from his work and that the market should be left to operate as with any other activity. My own attitude was somewhat different from either of these. I was not convinced that the state should play Maecenas. Artistic talent — let alone artistic genius — is unplanned, unpredictable, eccentrically individual. Regimented, subsidized, owned and determined by the state, it withers. Moreover the ‘state’ in these cases comes to mean the vested interests of the arts lobby. I wanted to see the private sector raising more money and bringing business acumen and efficiency to bear on the administration of cultural institutions. I wanted to encourage private individuals to give by covenant, not the state to take through taxes. But I was profoundly conscious of how a country’s art collections, museums, libraries, operas and orchestras combine with its architecture and monuments to magnify its international standing. It is not just or even mainly a question of revenues from tourism: the public manifestation of a nation’s culture is as much a demonstration of its qualities as the size of its GDP is of its energies. Consequently, it mattered to me that culturally as well as economically Britain should be able to hold its head up in comparison with the United States and Europe. And indeed we did. London is one of the world’s great centres of culture. We have, in the West End, the most vibrant commercial theatre in the world. We have probably the widest variety of museums of any city, ranging from the intimate and yet magnificent Wallace Collection to the glories of the British Museum. The performing arts, whether theatre, music or opera are represented in astonishing diversity.
But there is always more to be done — if it can be afforded. I certainly did not regret — though from the chorus of complaints about ‘cuts’ you would not have known it — that central government spending on the arts rose sharply in real terms while I was in Downing Street. Greater stability was provided too: from 1988 the Arts Council budget was set for a three-year period. Government funds were, wherever possible, used to attract private sponsorship for developing existing museums and galleries. For example, in March 1990 we announced the establishment of a new Museums and Galleries Improvement Fund — a joint initiative with the Wolfson Foundation. A succession of budgets included provisions to encourage covenanted giving. The most potentially significant of these was the introduction in October 1990 of a new tax relief for one-off gifts to charities from individuals and companies.
My greatest disappointment was my inability to secure for Britain the magnificent Thyssen Collection. In February 1988 my old friend Sir Peter Smithers wrote to me from Switzerland to tell me that his neighbour, Baron ‘Heinie’ Thyssen-Bornemisza, was keen to have his collection of Old and Modern Masters come permanently to Britain. Fifty of the Thyssen Collection pictures were on show at the Royal Academy and I had been to see them like so many others — and they were just fabulous. I asked for a report on the full Thyssen