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Culture as a Front-Line Service

My Lords, the more you look at a debate like this, the more you realise that your original contribution is going to be limited because everything you want to say seems to be reasonably obvious. But the answer in politics is that it does not mean that you should not say it. Several things originally attracted me to speak in this debate. When I was still looking forward to my 30th birthday, I made several visits to Glasgow during its year as a city of culture. I remember the buzz of being there, although it is true that I was still young enough to enjoy the buzz without feeling like death warmed up the next day; such are the memories of youth. Glasgow gained a degree of confidence and took pleasure in enjoying itself. The whole city stopped being miserable. Glasgow and Liverpool come from the same industrial past. They both have a wonderful series of galleries, museums and so on which were provided for them by 19th century philanthropists who made their money out of the industries of the day. They both have incredibly well kept cultural secrets. Indeed, many people outside this place probably say, "Don’t tell people about the galleries and museums. We won’t be able to get into them as easily". There was a sense that the museums and galleries were not for the people who lived in those cities: they were well kept secrets. I am afraid that I did not get to Liverpool during its year of culture, but what we saw on television and what I read showed that the cheerfulness happened again, but on a bigger scale. Local people were encouraged to take part in events and to build on what was already there. Indeed, telling people what is already there is probably the most important task. There is no point in holding an event if you do not tell everyone it is going to happen. That can be overdone, and I have personal experience of that from my own party conference just after the competition was announced. I found myself chairing a meeting—I do not know why, and I do not think the people who organised the meeting knew why I was chairing it either, but these things happen at party conferences. It was late at night, and I suggested that ordinary, grassroots sport might not have the biggest contribution to make to culture. I was told that it could make a contribution because there would be festivals with lots of small children from football teams celebrating them. My definition of sport does not really stretch to having children running around, but the idea that everything was possible was an infectious one within the group. It was comprised of councillors from the one of the dominant political parties in the city, so it is not surprising that such a degree of enthusiasm was able to permeate. Once enthusiasm gets going, you are okay, but it has to be backed up with investment and structural support in order to go out and reach people. That becomes clear when you read the information: things must be well organised. This takes me to the Olympics. If we do not see the Olympics as anything other than the high point of a series of well planned big events that generate income and enthusiasm, we are missing a trick. Those running the Cultural Olympiad will be particularly trying to reach out beyond London through different sorts of structures, and so will face slightly different problems. What they have said very clearly is this: you have to keep your nerve when planning something. It was the underlying lesson they had learnt. Journalists and indeed even politicians sometimes have been waiting for the big disaster with the Olympics so that they can say, "Oh, it shouldn’t have happened". Holding one’s nerve is apparently very important, and certainly that is the impression I was given. You must make sure that you carry on with the building programme so you can look back to what is good about it. I am always keen on people pointing out what has not worked out too well. Admitting to a few mistakes that you will try to change is a great way of building confidence. It is better than trying to pretend that everything is wonderful all the time, because we know that does not happen. Success, even when it is great success, is still relative; you could have done better. It is important to think about how to generate a high level of enthusiasm. By all accounts, and I am looking at this from the outside, Liverpool seemed to be able to create a feeling that something good, positive and of its very own was happening. If we can learn how to reproduce that feeling, we will be doing very well. The noble Lord, Lord Williams, pointed out that this happens on a smaller scale in other places using specialist units. We must think about how to generate it in other parts of the country. How should we build on the work of our festivals? Turning back to the Scottish connection, the Edinburgh Festival takes place every year. Although the good burghers of Edinburgh are probably sick of unicycling jugglers after a week or two, it is clear that people still enjoy the festival. They know that it generates enthusiasm. If there is a structure that lets people know what is happening, other benefits come from that. Employment is generated, there is a positive attitude and a can-do mentality that is not exclusive. Those who are on the front line must be backed up. That is surely the biggest lesson to learn. Support must be given to those who do the planning, and you must ensure that you make people feel involved. If you do not, all exercises in mass participation will be limited in their success and unable to reach their full potential for enhancing their localities. We must always remember to back up good works.