The Washington Post reports that, as the saner among us anticipated based on similar outbreaks of insanity in the past, public broadcasting has survived the threat to slash or eliminate its budget. So now we can relax ... for a while.
... but their bosses won't. That's the gist of complaints being reported in Newsweek and elsewhere. As I pointed out last week, what's crippling NPR is its craven management, and even NPR air personalities are going on record with similar complaints:
The journalists feel tarnished—and know who to blame. “Our problems don’t have much to do with what we do, but with the people who manage what we do,” says Robert Siegel, co-host of All Things Considered. “I don’t think we’re antagonists to Fox the way MSNBC is. We certainly seem to disappoint a lot of doctrinaire liberals who expect different programming from us.”
Go read the rest of the story. And while you're there, be sure to read all the way to the end, because there's a tidbit that puts the lie to the claim that NPR is a liberal bastion designed to turn the American public leftist: "In an NPR survey last year, 37 percent of listeners described themselves as liberal or very liberal, 25 percent as middle of the road, and 28 percent as conservative or very conservative." I don't know where the missing 10 percent may stand, but otherwise it sounds like a pretty fair spread.
As you’ve probably heard, Garrison Keillor has announced his imminent retirement (spring, 2013) from A Prairie Home Companion. All he has to do is anoint a successor host, preferably one who sounds less narcoleptic. I nominate Don Francisco. Wouldn’t Prairie Home Companion be more interesting if it could develop the energy of Sábado Gigante?
That NEA study regarding the decline of cultural omnivores I mentioned in my previous post has spurred some interesting thoughts from NPR pop culture blogger Linda Holmes. Primarily, she's taking to task not only those--like the provocative blogger A.C. Douglas, although she doesn't mention him--who insist on the supremacy of high art over pop trash, but also those--like Greg Sandow, although she doesn't name him, either--whose central thesis is that classical music culture has to become more like pop culture if it's going to survive. Wisely, Holmes recognizes useful distinctions between the two areas, without believing they are mutually exclusive pursuits. If you're short of time, I'll repeat her conclusion:
Omnivores thrive in an environment in which, if you are defined by your cultural interests, you at least don't have to be defined by any one cultural interest. Tolerating the ideas that classical music can be viscerally stirring and that Survivor can be sociologically interesting allows much better balance — which benefits everyone — than an escalating and unnatural war between fun and art. Fun and art are natural allies (despite often appearing separately), and forcing them to do battle just divides us into tinier and tinier camps, where we can only talk to people who like precisely the same kinds of culture that we do. That benefits absolutely nobody — not artists, not audiences, and not the quality of discourse.
That's the short version, but do take the time to read the full post.
What's killing attendance at cultural events? The latest theory: The decline of cultural omnivores. This article reports on a new NEA study that suggests that the population of omnivores--people who regularly participate in a broad range of cultural activities--is shrinking and becoming less active. That's bad news because omnivores seem to be the core of the cultural audience; the only greater predictor of cultural participation seems to be education level.
My personal experience--and I realize that personal experience is always a poor way to judge things beyond one's own experience--calls some of this into question. Twenty years ago, I was struck by how musically omnivorous people in their 20s were; they'd give just about anything a try, from Tuvan throat singers through grunge rock to classical. They didn't necessarily have a deep knowledge of any particular style, but they had a broad tolerance and curiosity. I have no reason to believe that these people, or the succeeding generation, have constricted their tastes since then.
So what's the real problem? I think the key word is "participation." Obviously, fewer people are going out to concerts and plays and exhibitions. But participation is not the same as consumption. Think about those millions of music downloads, the popularity of YouTube and Hulu, the success of Netflix and our own Casa Video, the ability to look at all sorts of images (and not just pornography) on the Internet. Surely, cultural consumption is steady if not increasing if we take into account all those people just sitting at home rather than going out and buying a ticket. This is not a new idea, but cultural institutions will be able to thrive if they figure out how to reach people in their natural habitat, and how to find the money that allows them to deliver culture using evolving technology. The omnivores are out there; we just have to take culture to them, rather than wring our hands when they fail to come to us.
David Weigel has a perceptive little essay at Slate about how there's nothing NPR will ever be able to do to end right-wing criticism of what it does even if it no longer gets federal money, because, as with every media outlet that takes money from some sort of donors rather than advertisers, "There will be critics who will attempt—and succeed—to discredit what it reports because of who funds it." Maybe NPR should get out of panic mode once and for all, stop firing executives in a fruitless attempt to placate those who will never be placated, and press forward doing the best job it can.
James Reel's cranky consideration of the fine arts and public radio in Tucson and beyond.
