The Dragon: Facing the Problem of Elitism in the Arts
BY PATRICK SUMMERS, ARTISTIC & MUSIC DIRECTOR
HOUSTON GRAND OPERA
Most children of a certain age have a memory of physical education class, of that dreaded moment when teams are chosen. Two student captains, selected by teachers who have already identified them as ‘star’ athletes, would in turn begin choosing their teammates. Someone like me, the pudgy musician with less-than-no-interest in sports, would always be chosen last. With the gift of years, it doesn't feel as humiliating as it did then, because that would imply some interest on my part in whatever sport we were being forced to play. Just logically, I wouldn’t have chosen me either, because had I been choosing someone with whom to discuss Mozart, most of those guys would have been far from my first choice – so, I get it.
What the memory makes painfully clear, though, is that tribal elitism begins early in our lives. We learn quickly that some things are perceived to be better than others, which is not a surprising revelation, but it becomes very problematic, even dangerous to the world, when we attach elitist judgments to groups rather than to the strength of individual ideas.
Even Plato’s Republic, that standard-bearer for the legacy of equality, had an inherent elitism baked within it. Plato described a class structure symbolized by the elements and their relative rarity: the rulers/guardians were gold – the soldiers were silver - and the workers were symbolized by the less-rare brass and iron. So, Plato’s Republic was inherently more interested in order than in liberty. We still see this in organizational elitism – more interested in status than art.
This manifests itself in the arts in peculiar ways, intersecting with all sorts of issues related to elitism, but also several that just amorphously float. Even for the arts companies doing well in the 2020s, though they are few, there is an existential threat of elitism, a cultural cliché that hangs on to opera like a nano virus. Why? The future of the live performing arts depends on figuring out the varying perceptions of elitism, which is no small task because it is a very weaselly word.
Even fairy tales, at some level, reinforce a type of elitist message. Cinderella, after all, isn’t saved by someone of her own station in life, but by an elite prince. The great message of Cinderella, of course, is that when she finally achieves an elite social status herself, complete with the power to take vengeance on her family who have been so mean to her, she forgives them. That part of the story never fails to move if played with honesty.
The reason elitism is so dangerous is because as an art we must be able to discern quality, but discernment and evaluation has nothing to do with class or money or critical acclaim or any of the other pillars of elitism. This is a really murky area of culture because of the natural assumption that the famous is also great, something that is reinforced in the culture all of the time. Elitism also rears its head in the reality of values: the pace of the internet era has unquestionably dumbed us all down, yet the demands of Mozart and Beethoven and Verdi are unchanged. Bridging these worlds is made infinitely more difficult when viewed through the prism of elitism, and what risks being lost is not the elite, but the Mozart.
“The elites are laughing at you”, is something we regularly hear in politics now. Coastal elites have become the political buzzword of our time, causing a terrible and dangerous division in our country. It has its roots in reality, in a large cultural shift that has occurred slowly over the last 30 to 40 years, which has been a migration of the college-educated to urban centers all over the world, whereas in former eras they were more evenly spread out. This has created an urban-rural divide that feels to many people like elitism, whether or not it is. Perception is more real than reality on subjects like this. One thing is sure: it is a dangerous perception on both sides.
Even in my little farm town in Indiana, 50 years ago, there was a fairly large number of people with whom I grew up were either college educated or had a life experience that gave them an extraordinary perspective on life which more than equaled any organized education. There was a broad respect for education. It amazes me now that I knew many people who were born in the 19th century, and that I met and knew many veterans of the First World War. What made people elite to me was how interesting they were, and how curious about life, not how educated, but how kind and supportive they were.
But, it is also true that even as a very young person, when I became deeply interested in classical music and opera, some of those adults around me – certainly not all - those I considered quite elite themselves, sternly warned me about getting interested in something that only appealed to elites. Suddenly I was faced with a word I thought I knew only to have it change before my very eyes and ears. Elitism went from being about knowledge and inquiry and started being about money and status. I remember being told at about age 10, in all seriousness, that if I worked hard as a musician, I would have an easy life in which I did not have to work hard like other people. The statement seems ludicrously quaint to me now, as I survey the stack of work awaiting me on my desk at this moment, but the sentiment has stuck with me all my life, because I often look back at immense periods of work in which I did not always feel productive, but then I look at my schedule and wonder in retrospect how I did it all. But I heard the other side of that argument as well, in very confusing terms, that I would be devoting my life to a field only enjoyed by elites, something I inherently knew was not true. Yet, the lore persists.
Elitism, as it used to be defined, was the very foundation of the system of governments of both the United Kingdom and United States: the ancient Greek and Roman Senates, which were run by elite aristocrats. But here is another word that hasn’t always meant what it means now: the word aristocracy used to have nothing at all to do with money, but referred simply to having the smartest people lead a group, a concept that really should not be so novel. So the elite class, which was formerly just the smartest class, slowly morphed over time to take on meanings of wealth and hereditary titles. The class of nobility, just under royalty, has never officially been a part of the structure of the United States but, as we have repeatedly seen, without an official monarchy or cultish nobility, the public simply creates their own. Who were the Roosevelts, Kennedys, and Bushes – not to mention the Kardashians - if not monarchs or nobility by other names, for their brief time?
Elitism is a blanket charge now, hurled at anything remotely intellectual or driven by accomplishment. You used to become famous for accomplishing something, while now you accomplish something by being famous - but what is it, exactly? The ‘elites’ are, for many of our fellow Americans, the primary problem with the country, busily deciding what is or isn’t important to the culture. So here we have the meaning of elitism changing again, and beginning to define any art of depth and attainment – art that requires a lifetime of work to produce as well as some devotion and study to understand – and art we are constantly striving to make more equitable and accessible. The word moves around like fairy dust. But if the classical arts do not tackle the idea of elitism, there simply will be no place for us in the world. What began as a merry war of ideas is rapidly become political class warfare, and that will not hold.
Opera is a lodestar of this, of course, because we are so expensive – so the elite cost of opera assumes that one must be elite to both attend and understand it. We separate cost and value all of the time in other sectors of our lives, but when it comes to something so subjective as art, suddenly people get very preoccupied with its cost.
One of the things we are good at is combatting elitism, providing ways for people to learn more about opera so that they can enjoy it, hear it differently, experience it with more depth. But we are also in an era that is simultaneously demonizing expertise, so the organizations which can only be run on it - any university, hospital, or arts organization of any depth – face constant uphill battles. The surest pathway to decline is to be increasingly dependent on an expertise you disdain. This would ensure that elitism, as we are quickly coming to define it, will simply end up consuming itself – a dragon so afraid of its own tail that it attacks itself for its own perceived danger.
We see elitism play out geographically in the arts, with the idea that certain places have great art while others only aspire. It is no secret where those places are: New York, Vienna, Milan, Madrid, Paris, Munich, Berlin, London, Salzburg, Amsterdam. These are the old elite centers of European art in terms of classical music and opera, (yes, even New York). It isn't that these cities don't have great arts scenes; they unquestionably do. But to give the impression that these are the pinnacle places that set the standard for the world is to do the art a considerable disservice, and also reinforces the idea that all art outside of these centers is aspirational. World class is thrown around all of the time now, presumed to mean something which could be presented in these pinnacle artistic cities and not be out of place. But if the status of an art is to mean anything, it must also mean that what is presented in Vienna or Paris would also have meaning in Phoenix or Ferrara, and it is largely elitism that keeps this from being true. If world class does not mean go in both directions, then it has no meaning at all and is simply elitism by another name.
There is a broad assumption that elitism is an outside force, as unstoppable as gravity. But elitism in the arts is often born from within, from organizations trying to impress other organizations, to ‘fit in’ with what is being done elsewhere, often leaving their own audiences in the dust. Sexual politics enters the elitism arena as well: the power centers of opera companies and orchestras, for many generations, have largely resided in men. The conducting profession, famously, has been overwhelmingly male until very recently, and women still have a disproportionate difficulty in obtaining major positions in the field. This is slowly and happily changing, but there is still an air of elitism that hovers around the arts which is born inside it.
Elitism in the arts is so ubiquitous that we may never be without the charge. Artists generally go through stages of elitism, mirroring their own career. The early years are the bandwagon years, hoping to convert as many people as possible to the art form that they are discovering as they emerge into it; their enthusiasm is infectious and wonderful, and we need more of it. Then there is a mid-career acceptance that not everyone is going to understand the art that they are now living in and know pretty well – “it isn’t for everyone”, is a sentence I hear all of the time from mid-career artists. It arrives like a gray hair. Then comes the late career nostalgia for how nice it all used to be, the artists perfectly accepting of a narrative of decline, no matter how untrue or destructive. Art itself is not in decline – but if the artistic industry is viewed through the lens of elitism, there is nothing to see but decline.
Elitism also lives strongly in the repertoire itself. Early in my career, an older conductor told me never to let anyone know that I loved Puccini and enjoyed conducting bel canto operas. When I queried this curious advice, he told me that those operas were considered distinctly the second-tier repertoire. Elitism. Indeed, when I conducted Bellini’s I Puritani at the Metropolitan Opera with Anna Netrebko, many years ago now, I experienced a great deal of first-hand elitism both from my star soprano and many colleagues.
Similarly, when HGO programmed The Sound of Music last season, we had elitists in our own organization upset that we weren’t doing a ‘pure’ opera – elitism again. Never mind that for some, not all, of the public, The Sound of Music gave an entrance to live art that something ‘purer’ might not have given. Never mind that The Sound of Music is an extremely important piece of American art. We can all do better than this, and if we want a future art, we must.
We must because it is not only the art itself which can feel elite; it is also the whole experience of gathering in a public space. Who feels welcome? Who is given subtle clues that they may be slightly out of place? Who is politely shushed when they applaud between the movements of a Symphony, or when they say something to a companion in admiration of a performance? Who feels that they belong there? How welcoming are boards to new faces? Who is worried about what they wear, that they won’t be perceived as ‘dressy enough’. A reminder: we really don’t care what you wear. We are just happy you chose us.
So, for the guys who never chose me last to play basketball: I thank you.