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In a cramped second-floor room in an office block mostly used for immigration hearings, one of the most famous museums in the world is fighting to keep a secret. In March, the Information Commissioner ruled that Tate must, against its wishes, reveal some of what was said in meetings where the latest of several sponsorship deals with oil giant BP was discussed. The museum appealed, and now its lawyers are here to make the case for being exempted from the Freedom of Information Act, which would otherwise oblige disclosure.
The three-member Information Tribunal will rule on Tate’s appeal in the next few weeks – and on a parallel appeal by campaigner Brendan Montague, supported by Platform, the arts education and activism charity. If Montague wins, not only will redacted passages in the minutes of the museum’s ethics committee be revealed, but also the sum paid by BP to Tate in each of the years from 1990 to 2013. If the museum wins, the campaigners who have pressed for this information for three years will have failed, though further appeals are possible.
The campaigners insist that pressure on Tate and other arts organisations will continue whatever the outcome, as concerns mount about the impact of climate change and are increasingly taken up by prominent culture industry figures. Harrison Ford and Julia Roberts are the latest stars to embrace green issues, in a series of short films released this week, while Emma Thompson and musician Peter Gabriel joined last month’s climate change march in London.
But what looks like a pretty clear-cut battle – between environmental activists on the one hand and arts organisations supported by BP on the other – is in fact a knotty business. The London-based direct action groups Liberate Tate, BP or not BP and Shell Out Sounds have been putting on stunts since 2010, aimed at highlighting the environmental damage caused by oil companies. These mainly young protesters, some of them artists, would like BP and Shell to be blacklisted by the arts world, in much the same way that tobacco, weapons and gambling companies have been. The fight over information, although linked to this anti-oil activism, is different. Not all those who support calls for transparency are against oil sponsorship; they just want to know more about it.
What the controversy over the 25-year-long Tate-BP relationship has done is shine a light on sponsorship, and on the policy of successive British governments to promote it, with even the Financial Times asking last month: “Why is there so little transparency?” Earlier this year, a workshop at the Royal Court theatre, hosted by artistic director Vicky Featherstone and attended by playwrights Caryl Churchill and Mark Ravenhill, heard presentations about the environmental impact of energy companies – and discussed moving towards “fossil-free theatre”.
“I think we often roll philanthropy and sponsorship into one,” says Ravenhill. “But there’s a big difference between big corporate sponsors and trusts, foundations and super-rich individuals who may have a love of the arts. Essentially, their sponsorship is an aspect of their PR. They want you to enhance their brand. Are you prepared to do that? Is it the only way to get funding? Is there any corporate money you wouldn’t take? We’ve been in this world since the 1980s, and there’s never been a serious discussion about the ethics.”
Ravenhill had assumed there was a transparency clause in sponsorship deals with public organisations. “It’s only the coverage in the past few weeks that has made me aware there isn’t,” he says. “I’m flabbergasted.”
When asked by the tribunal judge why he thought BP sponsored Tate, the museum’s lawyer Richard Ayden replied that he didn’t see the arrangement as an endorsement, but “if they didn’t think they were getting something out of it, they wouldn’t do it”.
BP is not a party to the tribunal and declined to comment on the specifics, but head of press David Nicholas told the Guardian: “As far as we’re concerned, it’s a commercial relationship, and we believe the details are confidential. It’s a relationship we’ve had over the long-term, and we believe it helps them carry out their work. We believe it’s a benefit to us and to them and to the public who visit the Tate. ”
A statement from Tate said: “Tate does not disclose sponsorship values where they are a confidential element of individual agreements.” The museum declined to say whether it understood campaigners’ concerns about transparency, or whether it believes being forced to reveal these details could harm its ability to raise funds in future.
We know that corporate sponsorships are not just big gifts. They come with firmly attached strings – promotional and corporate entertainment opportunities – and the promise of a benefit to the sponsor. But the impact on the institution and the artists who work there remains a mystery. Is privately sponsored art different from the publicly funded variety?
Chris Drury is one of the few British artists to have knowingly had his work censored following an intervention by the fossil fuel industry. Commissioned by the University of Wyoming to create an installation in 2011, he made Carbon Sink, which placed logs gnawed by pine bark beetles in a whirlpool-pattern on a pristine lawn. The piece was intended as a comment on global warming and Wyoming’s hugely powerful coal industry: the winters are no longer cold enough to kill the beetles, and trees are dying as a result.
“It was bizarre, it was so extreme,” he says of decision to remove the piece after just a year, when politicians joined a chorus of industry complaints. “It made me realise how powerful art is, what a powerful voice it has. No amount of reasoning or talking can match it. You just put an object there, and it speaks. Because it’s a non-verbal language, it takes people by surprise.”
No one has accused BP of attempting to influence Tate’s curatorial policies. The museum has largely tolerated activist invasions – on one occasion bearing the vast blade of a wind turbine – although there was some argument at the tribunal about the gallery’s suggestion that the activists could pose a risk to public safety.
Ravenhill thinks the threat from private donors is more subtle. “If you spend night after night entertaining corporates, you learn their language. So, while your policy is one of access and arts for all, the time spent with teachers, nurses, people in local government diminishes, while hours spent in the corporate world grow. It becomes harder to talk to the whole of society. I think there are very few examples of direct intervention – it’s not like you send them a script and see if they like it. But it changes the culture. It’s more gradual than censorship.”
When I interviewed him last year, artist and former Tate trustee Jeremy Deller defended the museum’s position, arguing that BP has no influence over the collection, and that “art has always had connections to power”.
Other artists are less comfortable. Elizabeth Price, who won the Turner prize in 2012, says: “I think many artists scrutinise this. There are always ethical questions. There isn’t sufficient state funding, and this could diminish the autonomy of organisations.”
Price supports calls for Tate to be transparent, but believes government cuts have put such organisations in a bind: “It’s a public institution and therefore it’s reasonable to have insight into these matters. But if you ask people to be resourceful and get money in other ways, you are creating the potential for these tensions. If institutions become increasingly dependent on sponsorship, this will affect their autonomy. It stands to reason.”
