In perspective. Looking back and forward at cultural policy and practice by Erik Akkermans is a book that wants to be taken seriously. And it succeeds, not because it is a literary masterpiece, but because of the wealth of experience Akkermans brings from the Dutch cultural sector.
He looks back on his career, but uses this retrospective mainly to question cultural policy. The book is about his own path, but also about structures, advocacy, education, international cooperation and the often difficult relationship between artists and politics. That is what makes the book interesting. It also requires some reading discipline from the reader at times.
As a novice cultural journalist, I read In perspective with admiration and impatience. Admiration for the knowledge and commitment that Akkermans conveys. Impatience because the book constantly shifts between analysis and explanation, between criticism and understanding. Akkermans writes that he does not want to be a “grandfather telling stories”. Yet at times, the book feels very close to that.
Abbreviation flow
Although the book may appear small, it contains a wealth of information. The table of contents alone provides an overview of fifty years of Dutch cultural policy. Akkermans writes about artists' interests, funds, facilities and asks questions such as: how does the Performing Arts Fund sound to composers? And is there still room for jazz policy in the Netherlands? These are not isolated questions, but topics that are still relevant today.
At the same time, Akkermans often jumps through time, without always making it clear which period he is referring to. A chapter about artists' associations from the 1970s flows seamlessly into policy from the 1990s, before returning to earlier ideas. For readers who did not experience this history themselves, this can sometimes make the book difficult to follow.
This feeling is reinforced by the frequent use of abbreviations: NVV, BBK, BKR, BNO, FNV. And these are just a few of the abbreviations used. Google was my best friend when I got stuck in the multitude of abbreviations that Akkermans crammed into his book. It feels as if the reader needs to be familiar with the same meeting culture. For a young audience, which is precisely what is needed for innovation in the sector, this forms a barrier. And that is a problem, because innovation is exactly what Akkermans advocates, as his book shows.
An ever-struggling cultural sector
An important theme in the book is the lack of genuine unity within the cultural sector. Akkermans shows how difficult it is to bring together divergent interests, from visual artists to composers and from media art to performing arts, in a single organisation. The Federation of Artists' Associations, which celebrated its fiftieth anniversary in 1996, serves as an important example in this regard. He describes how ideals clash with reality and how solidarity comes under pressure when money is scarce.
This insight is recognisable and ties in with current discussions about fragmentation and competition within the sector. Nevertheless, the analysis remains cautious. Akkermans identifies the problem, but does not fully address it. Why has it been impossible for decades to speak with one voice to politicians? And what role does the government itself play in maintaining this division? Here, I find the analysis lacking in focus and a clearer position.
Where policy and practice collide
The book gains strength when Akkermans links the sector to social and international developments. In the section on AIDA and international solidarity, with references to Budapest and cultural freedom, it becomes clear that cultural policy is also a political issue. Here, the book shows that culture is more than just a financial arrangement. Unfortunately, these sections remain brief, even though it is precisely here that the urgency becomes palpable.
Akkermans is also at his strongest in the chapters on providers and infrastructure. Stories about art lending, media art (“the meter cupboard”) and the disappearance of ideals show how policy and practice can reinforce each other, but also work against each other. The anecdote about the Giro d'Italia and the loss of the Promenade Orchestra shows how cultural value often loses out to spectacle and political self-interest. These are sharp observations, but they are rarely extended to the present day. The question arises as to whether choices of this kind are not being made again today, albeit in a different form.
Young is innovation, old is classic
The chapters on education and development are particularly relevant for the future. Akkermans writes about arts centres, cultural education in primary schools and the shift in power and influence in arts education. In doing so, he touches on an important question: who is culture intended for? Young audiences are necessary for innovation, while older audiences often keep institutions afloat and demand recognition.
Nevertheless, Akkermans remains primarily descriptive here as well, while a clearer position would not have been out of place. Should policy focus on preservation or renewal? And does the sector really dare to tackle this area of tension?
Extensive experience, yet limited
In Perspective is a rich and serious book that shows how closely cultural policy is intertwined with people, structures and power. Akkermans succeeds in subordinating his personal story to the bigger picture. At the same time, the book hovers between analysis and memory. For insiders, it is recognisable and valuable; for a younger audience, it requires perseverance and some Googling.
The book's great strength: experience. But this is also its limitation. Anyone who wants to understand where the cultural sector comes from will gain a great deal of insight here. Anyone who wants to know who determines where we are going will be left with questions.
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