Many of those calling for an end to the NEA claim they don’t oppose the arts, they just don’t want the arts supported by public money. The proposed alternative is “privatization” – which would throw responsibility for artistic needs on the charitable impulses of individuals, corporations and foundations. But since those who control those purse strings often dictate how their money should be spent, total “privatization” could well affect the independence, even the survival, of artistic institutions that don’t conform to funding fashions.
Still, given the hostile climate in Washington, those who believe in the principle of public subsidy might do well to prepare for the severing of ties between the NEA and Congress. Such a calamity might even have some unexpected advantages. For one thing, “privatization” would put an end to the increasing politicization of this agency, which since the 1970s has been subject to congressional pressures for geographical and ethnic distribution of funds. The question remains: how could the NEA be “privatized” and still retain its purpose as a funding agency functioning as a stamp of approval for deserving art?
One idea making the rounds is to transform the National Endowment for the Arts into a genuine endowment, along the lines of a private American university. Such an endowment would have to be substantial enough to make arts subsidies once and for all immune not just to the censorious opprobrium of the religious right and its supporters in Congress but to foundation trends, corporate self-interest and individual capriciousness.
This would require not millions but billions. And it may well be asked how Congress, which bridles at appropriating a measly $167 million for the arts, could be induced to provide funds for what many lawmakers consider (based on a handful of small grants) the unruly capering of obscene performance artists and photographers. The answer is that the money would not come from the public exchequer. The only thing required of Congress would be to hold off axing the NEA until it enacts an amendment to the copyright laws.
As of now, royalties are commonly paid for literary, musical, and dramatic works by publishers and performance groups until 50 years after the death of the artist (75 years in the case of a work for hire – that is, by an employee). After those dates, the work enters the public domain. Suppose royalty payments were to continue for an additional period after this 50- or 75-year period, going not to the artist or his estate but directly to the NEA, serving as a neutral agent. Instead of paying 6 percent of gross receipts, say, to the O’Neill estate for the rights to “The Iceman Cometh,” a theater would send its check to the NEA after the play entered the public domain.
This may strike some observers as a hidden tax on arts institutions, many of which are already groaning under substantial deficits. But such institutions traditionally pay royalties for copyrighted works of art, and the new payments need not be retroactive. Only literary, dramatic or musical works entering the public domain after the date of a change in the copyright law would be subject to royalties under this system. Classics like the plays of Shakespeare or “Swan Lake” could still be performed free of charge. Institutions finding such royalty payments burdensome need only continue to produce classics that are exempt. But whether paying out royalties or not, qualified artists and institutions would continue to receive money from the Endowment in the form of grants.
Were the copyright laws amended to accommodate this idea, one could expect a sizable accumulation of endowment in a very short time. To get some sense of the pace and scale of the venture, just consider this example: a single nonprofit theatre with 500 or 600 seats typically sends a playwright a check for about $20,000 for rights to his play, representing a 6 percent royalty over a four-week run. Multiply that sum by the number of theaters (more than 400) producing plays under the new copyright structure and you have some idea of how quickly the National Endowment could grow. Even if the royalty period were to be extended just another 25 years, the accumulation would be immense.
The moral advantage of this proposal is that those providing primary support for living artists would be dead artists. No longer could legislators argue that the federal government should withhold funding from any artistic work that isn’t enjoyed or endorsed by the entire population. And no longer would the NEA be required to justify the arts on the basis of social services, outreach programs, educational functions, economic impact on the neighborhood or anything other than their own intrinsic value. Receiving the kind of funding provided by most civilized countries in the world, the arts in America would at last be in a position to write their own declaration of independence from censors and philistines. The day might even come when quality and excellence would again be considered the primary criteria for national support of the arts.
