But its appeal and practicality remain contentious. And the new way of doing things comes with profound implications for the farming community.
Money is tight, and the future is scarily uncertain.
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PARIS — Suspected of hacking a dissident into pieces in its consulate in Istanbul, the Saudi regime has become the target of public outrage — until the story dies down, at least. Which raises an important question: should French museums, opera houses and festivals accept funding from the kingdom? It's a sensitive issue, as Saudi Arabia often plays the role of artistic patron.
It's also an embarrassing one for everyone who believed that when crown prince Mohammed bin Salman (MBS) took the helm over a year ago, he would steer his country in the right direction. He hosted Saudi Arabia's first jazz festival in February, held its premier opera, and opened a movie theater following a 35-year ban. Riyadh even announced that 5,000 festivals and concerts would be held in 2018, twice as many as the year before.
At the time, commentators spoke enthusiastically of openness, of dialogue between civilizations. But the gory assassination of journalist Jamal Khashoggi has served as a reminder of the repressive, conservative, sexist, and ultra-religious nature of the Saudi regime.
All the same, France won't be returning what the kingdom has given, gifts such as the 17 million euros for the Louvre museum's Islamic Art Department in 2005, or last year's 5 million euros to renovate the building of the Arab World Institute.
It remains to be seen what will happen to the ambitious cultural partnership established between France and Saudi Arabia during the MBS visit to Paris last April. It supports the Al-Ula archeological site, film, archives, and the creation of an opera house and orchestra. France's cultural community has been silent on the issue, as the ball is in the court of President Emmanuel Macron.
It's natural that few are speaking up against Saudi Arabia. The kingdom is a bipolar state, showing generosity abroad and cruelty at home. More surprising are the museums and opera houses that stay silent about the money they receive from corporations accused of harming the planet. Such as the oil and gas giants – for whom Saudi Arabia is a playing field – that pump millions into our cultural institutions.
For ecologists, it's dirty money that should be turned down. Climate activists, who wish to "free the Louvre" museum from the sponsorship of French oil and gas company Total, have held protests in front of emblematic pieces like The Raft of the Medusa and Winged Victory of Samothrace. But it's not exactly enough to leave anybody quaking in their boots.
A fiercer battle is taking place in the UK, where activists have long argued that oil companies "have no place" in museums. In 2016, their efforts led the Tate to put an end to 26 years of support from British Petroleum (BP), which was responsible for the 2010 Gulf of Mexico oil spill. The issue likely influenced Shell's decision to end its 12-year partnership with the National Gallery in October.
Foundations have dynamized art, but they are creating tension.
Corporate sponsorship often raises ethical concerns. Are a company's activities in line with the values of the recipient museum? Is the money given in a transparent way? Does it come with strings attached? "France is behind when it comes to these crucial matters," says former banker François Debiesse, now president of Admical, an association that supports philanthropy.
British activists accuse oil companies of "artwashing," using art to polish their image at a cut rate. When it came to France, Debiesse remained diplomatic: "The money received should be clean," he said. "We can ask questions when it comes to Total, but be careful …"
If a museum turns down sponsorship from polluting companies, it stands to reason that it should also turn motorists away at the ticket booth. And it should be noted that when the state slashed funding for large cultural institutions, it asked them to turn to the private sector to make up the difference. Demand that corporate sponsorship be 100% kosher, and finding funding becomes difficult indeed. According to Louvre president Jean-Luc Martinez, "the financial support from Total was key."
British activists also accuse oil companies of sponsoring exhibitions featuring the countries where they have interests, such as the British Museum's 2016 Siberia exhibition, sponsored by BP. French museums are adamant that their sponsors are never involved in artistic choices. But that argument is hard to swallow when one remembers the Ahae scandal, uncovered in 2013 by Bernard Hasquenoph of the Louvre pour tous (Louvre for all) website. Ahae was the pseudonym of a South Korean fraudster and cult leader whose ferry sank with 300 teenagers on board. In exchange for large donations to the Louvre and the Palace of Versailles, he was rewarded with exhibitions of his unimpressive photography.
The final piece of the puzzle is one that's on many mouths in France these days: the role of art foundations, which have been flourishing recently. To Debiesse, they're a matter of concern. "They've dynamized art, but they are creating tension," he said.
Bernard Arnault's Fondation Louis Vuitton, which Debiesse recognizes is not totally disinterested, has attracted particular criticism due to the funding of its museum and cultural center on the outskirts of Paris. According to the magazine Marianne, 480 million of its 800 million euros cost was tax-free. It has led some to deduce that the 2003 Aillagon Act, which was intended to encourage philanthropy, has turned donating into a cash grab for certain actors.
The issue is heating up. France's Finance Ministry plans to fight tax loopholes. One hundred members of the National Assembly are pushing for a 10-million-euro cap on foundation tax breaks. The National Assembly's finance commission has ordered a report from the Court of Audit.
The fact that financier Edouard Carmignac, who opened an art foundation on Porquerolles Island off the Côte d'Azur in June, is under suspicion of financial fraud does little to quell the controversy. Franck Riester, the new Minister of Culture, told a group of philanthropists gathered at the Louvre on November 6 that both he and President Macron were committed to the Aillagon Act. Beggars can't be choosers.
PARIS — Suspected of hacking a dissident into pieces in its consulate in Istanbul, the Saudi regime has become the target of public outrage — until the story dies down, at least. Which raises an important question: should French museums, opera houses and festivals accept funding from the kingdom? It's a sensitive issue, as Saudi Arabia often plays the role of artistic patron.
It's also an embarrassing one for everyone who believed that when crown prince Mohammed bin Salman (MBS) took the helm over a year ago, he would steer his country in the right direction. He hosted Saudi Arabia's first jazz festival in February, held its premier opera, and opened a movie theater following a 35-year ban. Riyadh even announced that 5,000 festivals and concerts would be held in 2018, twice as many as the year before.
At the time, commentators spoke enthusiastically of openness, of dialogue between civilizations. But the gory assassination of journalist Jamal Khashoggi has served as a reminder of the repressive, conservative, sexist, and ultra-religious nature of the Saudi regime.
All the same, France won't be returning what the kingdom has given, gifts such as the 17 million euros for the Louvre museum's Islamic Art Department in 2005, or last year's 5 million euros to renovate the building of the Arab World Institute.
It remains to be seen what will happen to the ambitious cultural partnership established between France and Saudi Arabia during the MBS visit to Paris last April. It supports the Al-Ula archeological site, film, archives, and the creation of an opera house and orchestra. France's cultural community has been silent on the issue, as the ball is in the court of President Emmanuel Macron.
It's natural that few are speaking up against Saudi Arabia. The kingdom is a bipolar state, showing generosity abroad and cruelty at home. More surprising are the museums and opera houses that stay silent about the money they receive from corporations accused of harming the planet. Such as the oil and gas giants – for whom Saudi Arabia is a playing field – that pump millions into our cultural institutions.
For ecologists, it's dirty money that should be turned down. Climate activists, who wish to "free the Louvre" museum from the sponsorship of French oil and gas company Total, have held protests in front of emblematic pieces like The Raft of the Medusa and Winged Victory of Samothrace. But it's not exactly enough to leave anybody quaking in their boots.
A fiercer battle is taking place in the UK, where activists have long argued that oil companies "have no place" in museums. In 2016, their efforts led the Tate to put an end to 26 years of support from British Petroleum (BP), which was responsible for the 2010 Gulf of Mexico oil spill. The issue likely influenced Shell's decision to end its 12-year partnership with the National Gallery in October.
Foundations have dynamized art, but they are creating tension.
Corporate sponsorship often raises ethical concerns. Are a company's activities in line with the values of the recipient museum? Is the money given in a transparent way? Does it come with strings attached? "France is behind when it comes to these crucial matters," says former banker François Debiesse, now president of Admical, an association that supports philanthropy.
British activists accuse oil companies of "artwashing," using art to polish their image at a cut rate. When it came to France, Debiesse remained diplomatic: "The money received should be clean," he said. "We can ask questions when it comes to Total, but be careful …"
If a museum turns down sponsorship from polluting companies, it stands to reason that it should also turn motorists away at the ticket booth. And it should be noted that when the state slashed funding for large cultural institutions, it asked them to turn to the private sector to make up the difference. Demand that corporate sponsorship be 100% kosher, and finding funding becomes difficult indeed. According to Louvre president Jean-Luc Martinez, "the financial support from Total was key."
British activists also accuse oil companies of sponsoring exhibitions featuring the countries where they have interests, such as the British Museum's 2016 Siberia exhibition, sponsored by BP. French museums are adamant that their sponsors are never involved in artistic choices. But that argument is hard to swallow when one remembers the Ahae scandal, uncovered in 2013 by Bernard Hasquenoph of the Louvre pour tous (Louvre for all) website. Ahae was the pseudonym of a South Korean fraudster and cult leader whose ferry sank with 300 teenagers on board. In exchange for large donations to the Louvre and the Palace of Versailles, he was rewarded with exhibitions of his unimpressive photography.
The final piece of the puzzle is one that's on many mouths in France these days: the role of art foundations, which have been flourishing recently. To Debiesse, they're a matter of concern. "They've dynamized art, but they are creating tension," he said.
Bernard Arnault's Fondation Louis Vuitton, which Debiesse recognizes is not totally disinterested, has attracted particular criticism due to the funding of its museum and cultural center on the outskirts of Paris. According to the magazine Marianne, 480 million of its 800 million euros cost was tax-free. It has led some to deduce that the 2003 Aillagon Act, which was intended to encourage philanthropy, has turned donating into a cash grab for certain actors.
The issue is heating up. France's Finance Ministry plans to fight tax loopholes. One hundred members of the National Assembly are pushing for a 10-million-euro cap on foundation tax breaks. The National Assembly's finance commission has ordered a report from the Court of Audit.
The fact that financier Edouard Carmignac, who opened an art foundation on Porquerolles Island off the Côte d'Azur in June, is under suspicion of financial fraud does little to quell the controversy. Franck Riester, the new Minister of Culture, told a group of philanthropists gathered at the Louvre on November 6 that both he and President Macron were committed to the Aillagon Act. Beggars can't be choosers.
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The UK government wants its farming sector to transition to a more sustainable model. But farmers fear the complex post-Brexit agricultural policy and lack of EU subsidies are threatening their livelihood.
The UK’s farming landscape has changed dramatically since Brexit. Agricultural policy has been adjusted, and EU subsidies, which funded UK farming for decades, are no more.
Before the split, those subsidies helped British farmers to the tune of nearly £3 billion a year, which for some, made up 90% of their annual income. That system is now being phased out, in a move which the UK government claims will be more environmentally sustainable.
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Central to this new approach are “environmental land management schemes”, designed to encourage farmers to produce what are known as “public goods” – things like soil health and wildlife habitats – with financial payment levels dependent on which of these goods are attained. Defra aims for 70% farmer participation by 2028, with 11,000 farmers in England already enrolled.
But its appeal and practicality remain contentious. And the new way of doing things comes with profound implications for the farming community.
Money is tight, and the future is scarily uncertain.
Our work investigates the constraints and challenges facing farmers in the UK and abroad. Recently, we explored the constraints encountered by farmers since Brexit, specifically focusing on upland farms in England. We found that the focus on environmental sustainability, though commendable, overlooks critical economic and social dimensions.
The transition threatens to marginalise traditionally minded farmers, lose cultural heritage and weaken the rural community’s social fabric. And it’s a transition which doesn’t just affect the farmers themselves. The farming and food industries are valued at over £120 billion to the British economy.
Speaking to upland farmers (who work in hilly and mountainous regions) across four English counties (Yorkshire, Lancashire, Cumbria and Devon), we discovered that many are extremely concerned about the future of the farms they look after. Farms that for some, have been in their families for generations.
I don’t even bother with these newer schemes because I don’t understand it.
One 70-year-old farmer from Lancashire commented bluntly about the future of his 250-acre beef and sheep farm: “We’re not going to be viable.”
He added: “I might as well stop farming and diversify into holiday lets.”
Another farmer, aged 50, who keeps Herdwick sheep in the Lake District, highlighted the critical role of EU subsidies, noting that their planned removal by 2027 would severely limit their farm’s finances and their ability to pursue environmental initiatives.
She said: “With that basic payment taken out of the business, it’s really difficult. We can make about £10,000 profit, but our basic payment is more than that. So that’s going to take us into a situation where we’re not making any money.”
There were also concerns expressed about how difficult it is to understand the new farming policy in the UK. Four in ten UK farmers are aged over 65, and information laid out in the 150-page “Sustainable Farming Incentive” document can be overwhelming. Many traditional farmers do not use mobile phones, and are unfamiliar with the online world.
Farmers bring their tractors into London duringa protest organised by Save Briish Farming and Farmers for Fairness.
Cal Ford/ZUMA
One farmer told us: “In my porch I’ve got like a thousand leaflets stacked up that [Defra] just sent me to take out to people because a lot of the farmers that I’m working with are not online. They haven’t heard about a lot of this stuff.”
She added: “I went to a farm last week, which is only accessible with a 4x4. Nobody’s been there to talk to them about schemes and stuff ever.”
Another said farmer, aged 72, said: “All the form filling is too damn difficult. I don’t even bother with these newer schemes because I don’t understand it.”
And while new schemes may be complex, many of the farmers we spoke to were very clear about the risks to the future of British farming. Overall, they seemed worried that farms, skills and knowledge that have been passed down through generations would be lost during this transition to more sustainable farming.
One said: “If farming isn’t going to be supported in the way it has been in the past, we’re going to lose an awful lot of farmers who have been on farms [for generations]. Their skill set and instinct will be gone, and it’ll be enveloped by agribusiness. That’s perhaps what [the government] want.”
The future seems pretty bleak.
Another explained: “If we lose the older generation that’s a massive loss."
"What used to happen with tenancies is people would work together, like me and my son. And then one would gradually step back and the other would gradually take over. It’s a gradual process.”
Overall, we found that for the more traditional farmers we spoke to, the future seemed pretty bleak. There was also a strong sense that while the farms they operated may not be hugely profitable, or provide the strongest environmental benefits, the work they do still had social and cultural value – which risks being lost forever.
And as England navigates the complexities of post-Brexit agricultural policy, the balance between environmental goals and the preservation of traditional farming practices remains precarious. Many of the farmers we met felt that they were being pushed away from their traditional role as producers.
As one farmer put it: “If you’re taking productive land out of production for your tree planting or diversification of whatever kind, then where’s our food coming from?”
*Peter Gittins, Lecturer in Management, University of Leeds and Deema Refai, Associate Professor in Enterprise and Entrepreneurship, University of Leeds
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
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