The Revolution Will Not Be Funded

Alright, darlings, let’s get busy with some feisty political talk—and, true to form, a big fat complicated book to read! The book is not immediately about art, it comes from the world of violence prevention work. But, it’s about art, too, even if they authors don’t mention it specifically. Hopefully you’ll stick with me on this little journey.

We begin at the unlikely starting point of “philanthropy” and the aforementioned book about it called The Revolution Will Not Be Funded. It’s a collection of essays from activists and organizers working in social justice and violence prevention movements around the country taking a critical look at what they call the “non-profit industrial complex.” In order to secure the dollars of philanthropy, organizations of all kinds, arts included, darling, must twist themselves into knots to adhere to the often onerous and misguided restrictions funders place on their generosity. Is it really generosity if there are strings attached?

Peel back the shiny veneer of philanthropy to its essentials and it’s simply rich people giving their money away, right? Kind of. Read this book to start understanding how foundations, non-profits, and philanthropy in general, as practiced currently in the United States, are problematic, to say the least. There is genuine desire to help, but there’s also tax shelters, influence peddling, hidden agendas and a deep adherence to the capitalistic status quo. “Evolution, not revolution” is the guiding light of most philanthropists—despite whatever flowery language they may employ.

In a capitalistic society like ours, money is power. So one person with lots giving it to someone without any is, like it or not, in a position of power. What do they do with that power? Give with no strings attached, no expectations? Maybe. Maybe not.

The “gifts” of philanthropy are very much an exercise in power as much as generosity. For a person or organization to access the gifts of philanthropy, they must run one hell of a gauntlet to prove their worth. And the philanthropists demand continual proof that they remain worthy of the gifts.

And what is the worth one must prove to philanthropists? Usually a business like structure and operation. A professional staff. An office, a website, a glitzy social media presence, lots of marketing. Well, if you spend all you time doing all of that, how much time do you have left for helping people—or, as concerns many of us here, making art? You can spend so much time filing reports and sending marketing emails that you run out of steam to organize people into collective action or create work that challenges the status quo.

In its most benign manifestation, this short-sighted worship of accountability is a reflection of our values as a society. But it’s an easy, superficial kind of accountability that you can document. Whereas helping people, or making art, is often messy and inconclusive. It doesn’t lend itself neatly to spreadsheeting. And anything that can’t be reduced to a compelling spreadsheet is all but invisible to capitalism.

Consider another possibility. Consider who might benefit from keeping activists and artists so busy with administrative trivia that they can’t cause trouble? To coercing us into organizational structures and funding contracts that prohibit political activity? It’s quite a leash that can be put on us, isn’t it? (Not that leashes and muzzles can’t be delightful, but that not’s the kind we’re talking about, unfortunately.) The powers that be benefit greatly from using philanthropy in this way. Toe the line or the dollars disappear.

This book, despite being several years old, offers a different—and still relevant—take on something that usually gives people warm fuzzy feelings and stops us, monetarily, from shouting “eat the rich!” The essays contained offer a number of personal accounts and analyses of the “Non-Profit Industrial Complex”—the system of state and private funding that simultaneously helps and hinders. The accounts are heartbreaking and harrowing and all the foundations mentioned are still very active today.

I personally found this book so compelling because the accounts reflect my own experiences working in arts-focused non-profits. We were always doing the funder dance. How to do we fit ourselves into their boxes, play by their rules, but still somehow do what we set out to do? It was constant compromise and tons of work. Enormous amounts of time and money never went to the mission, to the artists, it went to fundraising—for the sake of fundraising. It was this perpetual hamster wheel from hell that we couldn’t get out of. 

Even now that I’ve left that world behind, my personal experience of philanthropy is still that it’s deeply broken and of no help to me. Think about it: getting a government or foundation grant for dick art? Like that’s ever gonna happen. 

Now, darling, I’m not saying all philanthropy is bad, but it’s deeply entwined with capitalistic patriarchy and books like these that start to unpack some of that baggage are sorely needed. Philanthropy does good—at least what limited good can come from making tiny ameliorations to a broken system. But it has also fueled true horror shows such as the Ford Foundation actively participating in COINTELPRO and colluding with the State Department to prop up brutally dictatorial regimes in Central and South America. 

Consider a more current example: Project 2025 is the product of philanthropy, every bit as much as a shelter or an after-school arts program. Sure, the Heritage Foundation is all private money, but all that private money given to them entitles the donors to tax breaks. They’re actively taking away money that could be used to benefit everyone. And for what? Taking us back to a time of even greater repression and exploitation. It may suck that I can’t get government grants for dick art, but that’s nothing compared to getting thrown in jail—or worse—for said dick art. That’s the world they want to take us back to.

I don’t know about you, darling, but I wouldn’t mind seeing all the billions of tax write-offs that charitable giving and private foundations allow put to better use—like universal healthcare or a universal basic income.

And now back to art. This is the larger context in which art making happens—or doesn’t, as the case may be. It’s complicated, there are no easy answers here. I certainly have no answers, easy or otherwise, to give. All I can say is, let’s think deeply about the larger systems in which we live and work and contemplate what are the best ways we can help each other (make more and better dick art).

Cover photo by Vlad Tchompalov on Unsplash