Why do so few art workers join a trade union or professional association?
The guideline Artists’ Remuneration, fair pay, a near-subsistence level of income, a radical right coalition with a negative attitude towards the art sector, the upcoming DBA act — you would think that these were reason enough to join an organization which stands up for the interests of art workers. So why is it that only a fraction of art workers unite?
“I have never actually looked into it,” answers an art worker when asked why he is not a member of a professional association or trade union. He adds that, in addition to his practice as an art critic, he is employed full-time at a marketing company. “A position of luxury,” he calls it, but also one that stems from necessity. “It’s hard to make a living from our profession.” Another art worker, who graduated from an art academy last summer, says that she has never thought about it either. “I know they exist, but I didn’t know it was something you could join.”
It is the most commonly cited reason for not being a member of a union: simply not having thought about it. And this reason is not exclusive to the art sector. It appears that, among all working people in the Netherlands, motivation to unionise is low. According to estimates from the CBS (Statistics Netherlands), as of 2023, 15% of Dutch workers between the ages of 15 and 75 were members of a trade union.1. It is evident that, since the beginning of this century, union membership has been on the decline. As a result of the declining level of workplace unionisation, the bargaining position of the trade union movement has become weaker, giving employers more and more power.2
The Netherlands is among the countries with the lowest level of workplace unionisation and the steepest decline in membership, in part because trade unions have not been able to properly respond to the flexibilisation of the labor market. For example, the percentage of union members is much higher in larger organisations where the union is also present in the workplace.3. In 2023, trade union membership within the culture, sports and recreation sector, which includes the art sector, was at 10.2%.4. The majority of people with no union affiliation (54%) stated that they had “never seriously considered membership”.5
“And that is quite a strange category of response,” says Lisa Berntsen, a researcher at De Burcht, a scientific bureau for the trade union movement. She continues, “It means that a lot of people simply do not know what a trade union is. If you don’t know what it is and what it does, then it is a rather big step to become a member of one. Let alone even think about it. Some of the other response categories are ‘it’s too expensive’ or ‘they don’t look out for my interests’. It is interesting that the trade union just isn’t visible.” One potential reason for this invisibility, she says, is that things are going relatively well in the Netherlands. “Back in the day, talk of the union revolved around how they were the people who ensured that we all had weekends and didn’t work more than eight hours a day. Those are the core achievements of the trade union movement. Nowadays, nobody stops to think about the fact that the movement achieved those rights. I believe a lot of people think that the government took care of that. It is difficult to take those kinds of appealing core ideas about how we organize our work and turn them into a public narrative. Because all of this is already there: the weekends, the 40-hour work week, the collective labour agreements (cao’s). So what are you still fighting for as a trade union movement?”
According to scientific research, there are three major reasons why people decide to join the trade union movement. The first motivation, Berntsen says, is “the material motivation — that is, the ‘what’s in it for me’. Then, you have the social motivation, because you work at a place where everyone is a union member, or where the union is very active in the workplace, as is often the case in Belgium. Or your parents, family or whole friend group are union members, for example. And the final motivation is the ideological one: together we stand strong, and you fight for a better position for all working people.”
Peter van den Bunder, an advocate for the Kunstenbond, a trade union, increasingly sees this ideological motivation among young union members. “The younger generations are re-exploring and re-assessing the union as an institution and as a means of achieving a fairer society. Habitual trade union membership no longer exists. Before, we saw a sharp rise in a do-it-yourself method of organizing — that is, outside the union — such as with ‘bread funds’, but also with emerging professional associations. Clubs were being created sooner than people were joining existing institutions. Now, we are seeing a sort of rediscovery of the trade union concept taking place based on the idea that we can reinvent it all ourselves — but couldn’t we perhaps make better and smarter use of the institutions that are already there anyway?”
For Femke Schaap, 20 years ago, it was a combination of reasons that led her to register as an artist with the Kunstenbond, then still FNV KIEM (Arts Information Entertainment & Media). She sat on the Council of Members for 6 years. The union’s legal department was an important reason for joining, but so was the example set by her parents, both union members, and the size of the organization. “I thought no, I don’t want to join a small organization,” says Schaap. “I want to join a large union that has influence. So that was a logical step for me. Later, I went from being a dormant member to an active one, because I realized: the Kunstenbond is an association: we are it. If nobody does anything, then it doesn’t exist: we have to be the organization together. I have noticed that it is very important for people with vision and people skills to lead the way and ensure that others join in. I also learned the importance of membership numbers to an organization’s right to exist. Income through dues is certainly important, but the number of members is of enormous importance, not only for the support, but also for the mandate.”
As a larger organization, one does have more political clout, van den Bunder agrees. The disadvantage is that you can lose your antennae in the professional field: “It is almost impossible to be very close to the artist’s professional practice and, at the same time, close to policy proposals and legislative changes. That is why I am also a firm supporter of good cooperation between professional associations and trade unions.” Koen Bartijn, a board member of the umbrella organization de Creatieve Coalitie, stresses the value of having a range of organizations: “There is always quite a proliferation of organizations, especially small organizations that start organizing themselves out of their own urgency. People often say, ‘That should be incorporated into a larger organization’, but bottom-up organization is essential. Even if it’s only ten people, they can still produce value in their own way. Take Engagement Arts NL, for example: they were extremely important during the period when many stories about sexual violence in the cultural sector came to light. Or Cultural Workers Unite, who, among other things, have campaigned hard against gentrification in Rotterdam.”
Celebrating improvements
Research shows that people are more likely to join an organization that they believe is powerful enough to bring about change; for example, more people join unions if more strikes are organized, or if unions manage to achieve higher wage demands.6 This is an important reason for organizations to celebrate their victories. This is perhaps still being done in too modest a fashion. There are still all kinds of problems in terms of work and fair pay in the art sector, but much has also improved in recent years. These improvements have been achieved thanks to the efforts of various organizations such as Platform BK, Kunsten ‘92, BKNL, De Zaak Nu and the Kunstenbond. For example, there is a greater awareness of the importance of fair pay for all workers: not only those with permanent positions but also artists, art handlers, writers, editors, designers and many others. Fair pay has become more normal; clear guidelines for it have also been developed and are becoming increasingly sophisticated.
More recently, a motion was passed in the House of Representatives (Tweede Kamer) against the Schoof-I cabinet’s proposed VAT increase on culture, art, sports, books and media, thanks in part to the action, lobbying and organization of various professional associations and trade unions. One other major recent change is the artists’ remuneration (kunstenaarshonorarium). The implementation of this calculation tool, which is now also embedded within the flow of subsidies, has taken the previously matter-of-course practice of not paying artists for their exhibitions off the table. Paying artists has now become the norm. This involves not only practical, but also mental changes. During the conversations with art workers, it repeatedly became apparent that it is not clear to people where these changes are coming from. Just like the right to weekends and a maximum eight-hour work day, many see this as a political change, while changes like the artists’ remuneration have come about thanks to lobbying and organizational work.
Unfortunately, it is now the case that these improvements also come with a measure of pain. An improvement in one area, once it has become policy, often means that cuts will be made elsewhere, since there are no added subsidy funds. This redistribution is painful and distracts from what the core issue really is. “Now, fair pay has really become a policy document,” says Bartijn. “Then, you notice that it loses a bit of its political value. It is very much about professionalizing the sector and the cultural worker, and in fact less and less about the value of the work an artist does. Consequently, it ignores the discussion about the value of art and culture, and how we can keep the offer as wide and diverse as possible.” The role of professional organizations and associations is to put such implications on the agenda and thus influence new policies. These steps seem small, and due to the inertia of political processes, the change (and who contributed to it) falls out of sight, making it difficult to celebrate progress. Nevertheless, it seems that organizations should be allowed to advertise their own successes more, so that it is clear to art workers who is accomplishing those changes for them.
Profession or vocation
Another reason why art workers do not unionize in large numbers could be the way many people with creative professions view their work. They do not see their profession as an occupation but as a vocation. Clemoes notices that this belief forms a barrier to association. He works in architecture, and founded the platform NAA! (Netherlands Angry Architects!) in order to urge people in architecture to join the FNV. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m flogging a dead horse because, and I think this applies not only to architects but also to art workers, people don’t see themselves as workers and don’t want to see themselves that way. For many people, realizing that they are workers is a bitter pill to swallow. People see their profession as a vocation, not as work.”
What also plays a role is that despite (or perhaps precisely because of) the wide diversity of small advocacy groups, there are still artists who feel as though they have fallen between the cracks. Tina Farifteh, a multidisciplinary artist who is not a member of a professional association or trade union, is one of them. “Many associations are structured for and around a specific discipline. DuPho, (a professional organization for Dutch photographers, ZD.), to name an example, specifically focuses on photographers. And the NBF represents the industry of Dutch film and television. This specificity is very positive and useful if you fit neatly into one of these categories. But there are artists, like me, to whom these categories don’t really apply. I work between art, film and photography. I admire all of these disciplines but don’t want to limit myself to either one. Besides this I feel that a more transactional relationship arises because of the focus on practicalities.’ She would like to join an organization that transcends medium, that is more overarching: “an association for artists and critical thinkers, for everyone who needs to be protected from a fascist, far-right government. I would become a member of such an organisation if it exists.’ After the conversation, Farifteh adds that she’s decided to become a member of Platform BK. ‘Maybe it is not a perfect fit, but we have to start somewhere. The most important thing is that we organize ourselves.’
There are also further intangible processes that influence whether someone joins a trade union. Shame, for example, plays a role, and feelings of failure. Luca Fay van de Laar, who graduated from St. Joost Academie in Breda this summer, has been facing this: “I think what I also experience is that when you dwell on it too much, a feeling of shame comes along, because there is this ideal image, namely that you can make a living entirely from art. But in practice, very few people succeed in doing so.” She continues, “I now have a part-time job in a shop where I have to work a few days a week to earn enough to make ends meet. And then I have a few days left over for my art practice. And it’s not often, I also see that in people around me, that there’s an empty day left. Next to that work, you don’t always have the mental space to think about things like this.” The lack of long-term thinking comes up more often in conversations for this text. It appears to be a consequence of the precarity inherent in how work within the art sector is currently organized, with art practices often generating little money, therefore making time-consuming part-time jobs necessary.
Artist Farida Sedoc recognizes this situation. She became a member of Platform BK the moment her practice became more visible. At the same time, she suddenly had more income. “Then, you also have the time to think about what you want to spend that money on, instead of always being at work or having to go to your part-time job,” she says. “When your practice starts taking off, you then think, ‘Maybe I should have an accountant, take out a subscription to Metropolis M to keep abreast of what’s happening in the industry, sort out my registration with the Chamber of Commerce properly.’ Then come the questions, like: what does it really mean to have an agency, to be a professional? Then, you start organizing yourself. It’s a kind of maturation process. I see the memberships as a strength, an insurance or an investment. It’s a kind of carrot and stick approach for yourself, in order to make your practice a little more solid with the knowledge that you need each other. Like, it is helpful for them if I become a member and it’s helpful for me if I’m a member, because then I have somewhere to go to when I have questions or want more information about something. At the same time, they are able to strengthen the sector. And that’s what I want, of course: that there are people who can be engaged in this.”
Oxygen
In the arts sector, a number of reasons for not joining an advocacy organization are the same as for the rest of the Dutch workforce, such as having never thought about it, finding it too expensive, not believing in the organization’s strength, or thinking that the organization does not represent one’s interests. There are also a number of reasons that are connected to the precarity of work in the arts, such as shame, poverty and lack of time. What is distressing is that it is precisely this precariousness for art workers that induces them to unionise less. It is also striking that apparently, for many people, it is unclear where measures to prevent this precarity originate today. In recent years, quite a few improvements have been made to the way in which labor is compensated in the sector, but it is unfortunate to note that it is not often clear to workers to whom they owe this progress. In addition, it is crucial that the structures which have been built up continue to exist and are not dismantled by political parties with a disdainful attitude towards art.
It is precisely now, in a period of political urgency with the radical right firmly planted in the Netherlands and large parts of Europe, that the importance of associations should be clear. “What I would really like is for people to realise that we need to wake up, now, before things get dismantled,” says Tina Farifteh. “What gets torn down once is difficult to recover later on. We saw that with corona. A lot of theater technicians, for example, went on to do something else. That is knowledge and experience disappearing. Imagine that there are going to be 5 or 10 years of cutbacks — that will have a much more far-reaching impact. Then, fewer people will study art; then, there will be fewer subsidies for projects; everything will end up spiraling downwards. I’m from Iran, so I’ve seen how it works: critical creators and thinkers are the first to be cast aside, because it’s easier for the government to do its thing without those questions and voices. When I say that, people very often say, ‘yes, but we won’t go down that path over here.’ But when I see how quickly things are now being dismantled, that people have spent so much time building: the structure, the infrastructure, the distribution system, everything we depend on. And we are not revolting. That’s really strange, right? I believe it’s important to realise that we should truly stand for the importance of what we do. Art is like oxygen to a society. Once removed, suffocation follows.”
For more information about which organization advocates for your interest and which ou could join, use the Aansluitwijzer of the Creatieve Coalitie
This essay has been made possible by the Mondrian Fund
The author thanks Farida Sedoc, Femke Schaap, Luca Fay van de Laar, Tina Farifteh, Charlie Clemoes, Maarten Buser, Peter van den Bunder, Lisa Berntsen and Koen Bartijn for sharing their time and insights.
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