When activism meets the arts

Artists have long been embroiled in politics. Think of Goya’s The Third of May 1808, Picasso’s anti-war masterpiece Guernica, the Romantic movement’s rejection of Enlightenment reason or Dadaism – the reaction to the violence, nationalism and perceived meaninglessness of the First World War. But today, political activism is said to be so ubiquitous that it’s corrupting arts institutions, censoring creative output and skewing judgement, criticism and funding. Only recently, Arts Council England (ACE) was forced to re-emphasise its warning that political statements could violate funding agreements, following a meeting with the Department for Culture, Media and Sport regarding issues like the Israel-Gaza war. In response, artists like Matt Haig, Feargal Sharkey and Nikita Gill criticised this guidance for threatening censorship of political art.

Ironically, Arts Council funding has long involved conditions that have been critiqued as containing ideological ‘strings’. ACE’s 2020–2030 ‘Let’s Create’ strategy emphasises inclusivity and relevance (reflecting communities and diversity targets) and environmental responsibility over traditional artistic excellence metrics. Critics argue that this prioritises social and political agendas over artistic merit, creating a ‘straitjacket’ of box-ticking that stifles creativity. Indeed, even a government-commissioned review in 2025 by Labour peer Baroness Margaret Hodge explicitly warned about perceptions that ACE was pursuing ‘access to culture in an instrumentalist way’, sidelining art and excellence in favour of societal change and bureaucratic targets.

Beyond state funding, grassroots artists and organisations – while resisting governmental political interference – can often seem more committed to political activism in the arts than to art itself. According to writer Alexandra Wilson in Culture Vultures: when activism meets the arts, the arts are now routinely displayed, performed and interpreted through the lens of ideological agendas. From museums and galleries to period dramas or the musical and theatrical canon, Wilson takes a survey across the arts to argue that a universal ideal of ‘art for all’ becomes harder when discussed through the prism of political labels. For example, today’s art world often anachronistically thrusts contemporary politics onto art from the past, meaning everyone from sculptors to composers can fail the EDI tests of inclusion and diversity.

Is it possible to retain our understanding of the arts in their historical and political contexts? If arts and activism are conflated, how do we defend artistic freedom – or are there sometimes good reasons to censor artefacts (or even artists) that express offensive or anachronistic political attitudes? Is it too naïve to hope we might rediscover the enjoyment, meaning and sense of community that can be derived from the arts, when approached on their own terms? The arts can certainly contribute to changing the world but, in making them all about activism, are we losing sight of the art itself?