Introduction
The people of Gaza have called on the world to not look away, and not be silent. Many community organisations are grappling with how to position themselves at this time. Many are facing criticism: whether for staying silent, standing in solidarity with Palestine, or for attempting to censor or limit expression in workplaces and events.
Governance expert Kate Larsen has been sharing videos and articles to provide guidance. Here we reproduce Board members, we need to talk about Palestine, Dear Arts Organisations, and On Cultural Safety originally published on larsenkeys.com.au. While these resources focus on the arts sector in Australia they have valuable insights for other sectors and countries.
Board members, we need to talk about Palestine
Like everyone else at the moment, Australian arts and cultural organisations have been making headlines for what they are or are not saying or doing about the daily and devastating breaches of international law and human rights happening in Palestine and Israel right now.
I’ve been sharing a lot more than speaking on this topic, because although the last few months have been a masterclass in international law and how it’s being broken day after day on our watch, I am not an authority, nor am I a member of the communities closest to this particular grief – and it is vital that we continue to amplify the voices of those on the ground and those in the diaspora and multi-faith communities calling for ceasefire, justice, humanity and peace.
But this Board business put things firmly back in my lane. So, you can now check out my three short videos that call on Boards and Board members to make sure to talk about what’s happening, how that’s playing out for arts and cultural organisations in Australia (and beyond), and what we can learn to help meet our fiduciary duties to our organisations and duty of care to the people within and who engage with them.
- Watch Part 1 on TikTok or Insta – on boards in ‘turmoil’, departing donors, Board member behaviour and responsibilities, including case studies from Australian Centre for Contemporary Arts (ACCA), National Association and Visual Arts (NAVA) and Collingwood Yards.
- Watch Part 2 on TikTok or Insta – on leadership and politics, fiduciary duty and duty of care, cultural safety and media justice, and whether a scarf is just a scarf, including case studies from Sydney Theatre Company and Mushroom Records, and learnings from Dr Ruth De Souza in The Relationship is the Project.
- Watch Part 3 on TikTok or Insta – on censorship and silencing, risk and relationship management, First Nations solidarity and the responsibility of allies, including case studies from the Sydney Opera House, Biennale für aktuelle Fotografie and Australian journalism, and learnings from Diversity Council Australia, NonProfit AF and MEAA Members for Palestine.
Consider your own advocacy
The coda to the series turns to our duty of care to each other – our friends, families, relationships and communities – and how that intersects with care for ourselves at a time of great grief and great pain. Because duty of care applies to Boards and artists and arts and cultural workers, but it applies to everyone else too.
- Watch Part 4 on TikTok or Insta – on community and loneliness, circles of preoccupation and care, how history will judge us, and how nothing is ever lost online – including our silences.
These last few months have also been a masterclass in community and responsibility, in the difference between neo-liberal definitions of self-care (of drawing in, of separating ourselves, of looking or stepping away) and more Indigenised, collectivised definitions of self-care (of leaning in instead, of drawing strength from the communities who draw strength from us).
So, for our own sakes, for our own future selves, as well as for our organisations and communities and the people in our care, and all those relying on us on the other side of the world and in the diaspora in what we now call Australia – or wherever they may be – I ask you to consider your advocacy.
I ask you to consider whatever you are able to do – from your circles – from your circumstances – at this time… a call, an email, a petition, a donation, a post, a repost, a vigil, a march, a conversation, a decision who to boycott or who to buy from instead.
A call for a ceasefire. A call for the immediate release of hostages and prisoners – all those being held without crime and without charge. A call for media justice. A call for the enforcement of international law, not just encouragement to follow it, for the upholding of human rights to self-determination, equity and self-expression. A call for safety, for pluralism.
Because there aren’t two sides to human rights. Because we have legal and political instruments to prosecute those responsible for all of these war crimes, if we only choose to use them.
Because we aren’t just losing humans, but our humanity. And because we will be seen to be culpable in the things we don’t help change.
Dear Arts Organisations
Amongst everything else, the last several months have been a crash course for boards, leaders and organisations in risk and reputation management, crisis communications and duty of care from the pointy intersection of arts and human rights advocacy.
Inspired by my recent vlog series on why boards need to talk about Palestine, here’s my attempt at framing the sorts of conversations going on amidst the hurt and panic, best and battered intentions, solidarity and silences right now.
Dear [insert any number of arts* organisations here],
* and everybody else
[This situation] may or may not be of your making. You may be reeling, reacting, staying silent or taking a stand. Fairly or unfairly, you may be more or less impacted or involved. Nonetheless, this is about you, and requires your response.
Does it matter how you got here?
Maybe you made decisions in the past about which circumstances have changed to make them problematic or meant they’ve caused harm. You don’t need to apologise for those decisions. You no doubt did your best with the information you had at the time. But your responsibilities around risk management, reputation management and duty of care require you to think and talk about how you could and should respond given this new information.
These are opportunities to acknowledge what’s happened and its impact, to show how we put our values into practice, to make spaces safe, to reduce, remove or remediate harm (ideally, in as many and as specific ways as possible).
Maybe you made decisions in the past (knowingly or unknowingly) that were not ideal or genuinely problematic that have now come to light. Receiving critique is always difficult – particularly within for-purpose industries that rely on us to give, work and care so much for so little reward. But ours are still positions of privilege and power. And reflexiveness will always be more effective than defensiveness – not only in resolving these situations but improving how our organisations work long-term. These are opportunities to listen and learn. These are things we can – and should – apologise for. To acknowledge where we’ve fallen short of our organisation’s values and ambitions, to apologise for doing so and own any harm we’ve caused, to commit to doing better (ideally with details and a timeframe for what, when how).
Maybe your organisation’s values, policies and procedures have never been tested or needed to be demonstrated in such a visible way, and are suddenly unclear, unhelpful or not fit for purpose. It’s OK to admit to being unprepared. It’s OK to say we’re taking it seriously, listening, learning and working it through (as long as we let people know when to expect an outcome too).
These are opportunities to make sure our decisions and policies are informed by our purpose and the communities we serve. To ask and listen. To bring in experts and members of the communities closest to the issue, trauma or grief (and thank and/or pay them appropriately for their cultural labour and time). To implement their advice. To evolve our practice.
Maybe you made a statement in haste, shared a policy or attempted to express your values or solidarity in a way that backfired, created or compounded harm. It’s OK to walk something back, to acknowledge the clumsiness that comes when responding to crisis, to apologise and re-set if needs be. These are opportunities for openness, humility and flexibility.
Maybe you’ve yet to make a statement, been critiqued for your institutional silence or ‘business as usual’ communication or social media feeds. It’s not too late to step up. These are opportunities to make space for complexity, plurality and empathy. To clarify why our organisations exist, who for, and what that means. To reassure and re-secure our relationships and futures.
Maybe you simply made plans before the world changed. This is not something anyone can be expected to control. But neither can we carry on as usual when the context we work within requires us to acknowledge or respond to that change in some way.
These are opportunities for making and holding space, for offering a different frame, for thoughtfulness and innovation – things that artists and arts organisations are uniquely equipped to provide.
But also, this isn’t just about you – not specifically and not entirely.
This is a moment in time. In post-referendum ‘Australia’. In the midst of some of the most visible global atrocities and human rights abuses most of us have ever known. In a decimated sector impacted by an ongoing pandemic, cost of living, climate and mental health crises. A time of low and lost trust. A time when none of us are our best selves. And when many already-underrepresented communities have become more deeply triggered, traumatised and marginalised.
All of which have raised awareness of and reduced tolerance for things we’ve always known. Things we’ve articulated in endless research papers, consultations and planning days. Things we have even been trying to change – if incrementally.
That – in the main – our organisations and sector are not accessible, equitable, representative or culturally safe. That these issues and systems are deeply embedded and reinforced by governance, business and funding models that rely on us to do too much on too little in ways that compromise people and outcomes. That make us necessarily more focused on keeping-going than doing-better. And that burn out generation after generation. Particularly the people who care the most, those closest to these issues, their allies, and those on the front lines – often cogs in a bigger machine, often unable to make change from within, even when the will is there to do so.
All of which means change is slow, inequities persist, and we are often unready and ill equipped to respond when things happen – particularly when they happen fast, on multiple fronts, and in areas outside of our expertise.
All of which is an explanation, not an excuse.
I too have learned these lessons the hard way, made imperfect decisions within imperfect systems, tried and failed, unwittingly caused harm. I too am still culpable, still learning. We all are.
But we can hear and be hurt by hard truths AND acknowledge they come from hurt we have contributed to. Articulate our values, hopes and best intentions AND analyse where we haven’t realised them as well as we’d hoped. Listen when people speak back to the power our organisations represent EVEN WHEN we don’t feel powerful within them.
We can acknowledge effort and pride in our organisations, people and programs AND culpability, regret and understanding when things go wrong. Support those organisations AND hold them and ourselves accountable. Acknowledge systemic causes AND demand faster and more meaningful change.
We can criticise the actions of our organisations AND acknowledge the care, work and intentions of the humans within them. Call out failures and fuck ups AND give people space to learn and try again. Still find value in what we’ve done well WHILE we commit to improve where we’ve stumbled or failed.
We can be supportive and gentle AND critical and accountable to each other AND not expect or require gentleness from people who have been marginalised, silenced or hurt – whether or not we did the hurting. We can be impassioned AND compassionate.
We have to.
Regardless of the issue, crisis or moment in time, what our organisations say or don’t say has an impact on our ambitions, strategies and even our financial bottom lines, as well as (most importantly) the people we work with and the people and art forms we serve.
Our organisations and decision-making structures aren’t set up for speed. But in times of crisis, it’s vital for us to find ways to respond in good time – not wait for things to improve or blow over. Choosing not to act is still a choice. Choosing not to anticipate or remediate harm is a failure of duty of care.
We can learn and change and get better. We can acknowledge mistakes and that intentions count less than how something is received. We can be accountable when things go wrong. We can apologise and ask those we’ve hurt how best to move on.
We can be in community with the communities we service or serve. Remake the systems of the past – conversation by conversation, action after action. And we can do so while being human and kind – to each other as well as to ourselves. We can get through this together – if we try.
And another thing…
You can also check out a 6-minute summary of this article in my latest ‘and another thing’ vlog (also available on TikTok).
On cultural safety
Arts boards and organisations, stop using cultural safety as an excuse to make your programs, spaces and business practices less culturally safe.
My latest ‘and another thing’ vlog series is made up of three short extracts from a longer rant to my Patreon followers on how the language of cultural safety is currently being weaponised to exacerbate our sector’s lack of accessibility, equitability and representation.
Part 1 (this is not a trend, this is a reckoning):
Part 2 (on the dangers of ‘holding the line’):
Part 3 (yes, that means you):
Further reading
I’ve been revisiting this warning from Vu Le’s Nonprofit AF: “The white moderate actively avoids anything controversial, anything that could be seen as “political.” Board members and organisation leaders, if you cannot publicly call out white supremacy, if you can’t denounce white nationalism, if in this moment when millions are risking their lives in a pandemic to protest against police racism and you think it’s too political or uncomfortable to say that Black lives matter [or Free Palestine] and act/fund accordingly, then you are a white moderate and you are part of the problem.”
I also recommend you check out Dr Ruth De Souza’s chapter on going beyond inclusion when it comes to cultural safety and Esther Anatolitis’ chapter on the role of the institution in The Relationship is the Project.
Or, for a working example, you can read the open letter from MEAA Members for Palestine to the State Library of Victoria earlier this month.
As Stuart Kells observed in The Conversation: “Across Australia, state library legislation* is not up-to-date with the current mix of library functions, or the current library context. More fundamentally, the standard board-CEO governance model is increasingly ill-fitting. This is not just about the need for more diverse representation on boards and in management. It’s also about the wholesale adoption of new engagement methods, new modes of planning, and new ways of making and communicating decisions. As public institutions, libraries have a responsibility to be transparent about their decision-making.”
*Many of Kells’ provocations on how libraries are governed can be applied to the rest of the for-purpose sector too.
About the Author
Kate Larsen (she/her) is a writer, arts and cultural consultant with more than 25 years’ experience in the non-profit, government and cultural sectors in Australia, Asia and the UK. Kate is a thought-leader in the areas of governance and cultural leadership, workplace culture, online communities, and community-led practice. Follow her on socials @KateLarsenKeys, subscribe the free occasional enews. For more you can join Kate as an advocate, ally or accomplice for rethinking arts governance from just $2.50/month on Patreon.
Explore Further
- Where is the Australian climate movement’s solidarity with Palestine? Alex Kelly in Overland
- The silence from non-profits on Palestine is thunderous, Neha Madhok on LinkedIn
- The book world doesn’t know what to do with all these heightened sensitivities, Crikey
- Free speech at work? It’s complicated, We Are Union
- How to Manage Backlash if You Stand Up for Palestine, MEAA Members for Palestine (Instagram)
- Writing a Solidarity Statement: Considerations and Process Questions, Building Movement Project
- Backfire Manual: Tactics Against Injustice, Brian Martin
