The growing impact of financial cuts, resulting from the present Government’s Spending Review of last October in a bid to reduce national debt, is made abundantly clear in the press and media, day after day. The effects range across the board from, for example, redundancies at the highest level in the public sector and the rise in university students’ tuition fees to the probable closure of public libraries and the continuing disrepair of school buildings. As might be expected, in all the ensuing hand-wringing resulting from these cuts, the plight of museums, especially the non-national regional museums, has garnered only faint sympathy beyond the museum world itself. They are included under the larger umbrella of the arts, heritage and culture and, although successive governments and their respective reports and manifestos have constantly reiterated their belief in and support for the arts, museums have not escaped the axe. This is only just when all other areas of society are facing a stricter financial diet. But it is hardly to the point that some museums have received cuts that were not as severe as was feared. Any budgetary and staff reductions at a time when museums have never been so visited nor under such pressure to perform are bound to carry serious long-term consequences. A civilised society that closes or maims its museums and libraries is hardly worth the name.

The proposed cuts for regional museums are merely the latest blow to these many long-ailing institutions. Several past Editorials in this Magazine have tracked their declining fortunes and a chronic lack of national and local backing (and it should be remembered that local authorities have no statutory duty to support their museums; it is discretionary). Over twenty years and more the gap between the national and regional museums has widened, in spite of some injections of cash and the boost given by the government-funded Renaissance in the Regions programme since 2003; the quality of the experience in visiting them – even some of the large municipal collections – frequently offers a study of stark contrasts – in display, acquisitions, temporary exhibitions and secondary facilities. In particular the second of these, acquisitions – the life-blood of collections – is at an alarmingly low ebb.1 

Anyone trying to grasp how local authority museums are run and financed may well be dismayed by the complexity of the system. Directives have changed over the years owing to successive new advisory and regulatory bodies, both independent and government led; responsibilities towards the local community have spiralled in a bid for inclusivity and diversity; and there is the notable, continuing ascendancy of hard-boiled ‘management’ over curatorial expertise. A good picture of the effects of all this can be had from the monthly Museums Journal, published by the Museums Association, which provides a running commentary on museum news, government arts policy and all aspects of curatorial life.

One impression to be gained from reading the Journal is the extent to which many museums appear to have become an extension of the social services; programmes and courses are offered as though museums also functioned as drop-in surgeries or annexes to drug-rehabilitation centres. Money from Renaissance in the Regions, for example, has financed one group of museums to explore ‘the benefits that cultural spaces offer adults experiencing mental health challenges’; others work with young offenders and drug-users. Admirably intentioned as these ‘outreach initiatives’ may be, are they really a museum priority? Involving museums (and the arts more generally) in such socio-political imperatives may increase a museum’s community profile but they invariably limit creativity and the ambitions of providers. In a detailed abstract of the ‘State of the Arts’ con­ference held in London on 10th February, not one of the many topics due for discussion referred to the enjoyment and pleasure that the arts provide. The Government’s urge towards a new philanthropy in the arts returns us to the prime definition of the word as a wish to help human welfare – which museums can do – and reduce suffering – which is not part of a museum’s remit.

A regular feature of the Museums Journal is its reports on financially motivated disposal – or attempted disposal – by museums of objects in its care. Bolton Museum is considering divesting itself of forty-one (so far unspecified) items; Gloucester City Council is valuing the City Museum’s collections with disposal in mind. The Council commented: ‘There are a lot of things in storage that are not relevant to Gloucester and have seen better days’.2 This is typical of the small-minded ‘management’ view of museums and their function. The growing ‘localist’ attitude to what museums and galleries should collect and display can only be seen as short-sighted. Of course local history collections are important, but visitors from further afield also go to Hull to see the Frans Hals, Gateshead the Tintoretto and Leicester its modern German paintings. To go down the dirt track of disposal will surely, if carried through, have detrimental consequences in terms of grants, bequests and sponsorship, at a time when these are more vitally needed than ever.3

A further strategy of the Government’s plan of recovery is an increase in voluntary work, frequently overseen by charitable bodies (themselves subject to cuts). Volunteers in museums may only fulfil some of the more basic posts – warding, reception, guiding – but these too require particular skills. Volunteers in the curatorial departments all need training and direction, which are time-consuming, and, unlike salaried staff, they are not always accountable. Expertise and skills do not accumulate in such circumstances. Again, Town-Hall pen-pushers, whatever the public perception of them, are often extremely useful to museums on matters such as legal questions and personnel. If they go (and they will, in their droves), curatorial staff will have an additional responsibility.

A British fondness for pessimism and an ability to make-do-and-mend will guide many museums through this threadbare muddle towards some kind of survival. Others will close or perhaps be amalgamated. But a far-seeing strategic plan implemented by all concerned bodies – national and local, government funders and grant-giving charities, university departments and schools – is surely the only tenable way to ensure not just survival but a realistic future.

1    In this context, the announcement on 16th February by the Scottish Executive that, without prior consultation, it is to halve its National Fund for Acquisitions, already meagre at £200,000 (a sum unchanged since 1996), will be a considerable blow to Scottish museums.
2    ‘News’, Museums Journal (January 2011), p.4; Gloucester City Museum is currently closed for a revamp funded by the Heritage Lottery, increasing its educational and catering facilities, shop and displays.
3    In several past Editorials, this Magazine has stood firmly against disposals; see most recently ‘The Rodin’s not for sale: a fresh look at disposal’, 152 (2010), p.447.