Too middle-class for art?

Friday March 26, 2010

Data revolution: from birth to death, says Karen McTigue, we are forced to define ourselves. Too easily categorised by officials, we have a responsibility to question why we are required to provide information and, if necessary, refuse.

An amusing story caught my eye this week. An arts club set up by Hackney council has had its funding withdrawn as it was not “reaching the families with the most difficult needs.” Upon further reading it appears that the council had used the postcodes of those attending the children’s club, then determined the property values of those areas, and subsequently decided that the attending children must be middle class, and therefore not “in need”. In need of what exactly, is unclear. Art? Socialising? Being involved in the community?

So here we have a decision allegedly based on the home you (or rather your parents – as this is after all, let us not forget, a children’s art class) may, or may not own. Whether your home is rented; a flat rather than a house; whether you are living with grandparents, or under threat of repossession – all of these are unknowns, and obviously not classifiable as ‘data’.

As all Londoners know, there are few areas outside of Kensington or Mayfair which can be wholly defined in terms of class. The postcode we end up living in, working in, or that our children go to school in, is most commonly made up of a random, eclectic mix of people – and that is why we love London – don’t we?

As a separate issue the officials at Hackney council also concluded that 68% of the art club users were white. And their point is? The most recent local news story from Hackney is the death (from a drugs overdose) of Robin Whitehead – Teddy Goldsmith’s grand-daughter. Both white, and middle class, Whitehead would have been deemed way outside the council’s policy of determining “need”. And yet, she died. As do many others who would fall short on the monitoring prerequisites.

Boundaries

It is not such a great leap from art to death – bear with me. Our ludicrous officialdom takes the same broad brush in its culture of processing. From birth to death, we are forced to define ourselves, be set within boundaries that data inputters and outputters can easily recognise. Limited by our census takers, our cheery local doorstepping officials, our over-riding responsibility must be to question why we are required to provide information, and then to be able to refuse it.

In a big brother style letter to the art club leader the council says that the reasons for closure are “based on our monitoring information”. So the ethnic background data forms that we are constantly told are “just for (our) records” are in fact vitally important, in terms of how our taxes are spent. The ticks and crosses we blithely fill in are powerful signs in a society that is more and more dependent on statisticians rules.

What happens to our data if it is not accompanied by postcode, employment, and ethnicity? Much as the first language-inhibited immigrants were re-named by customs officials who could not understand their accents, perhaps we will simply be artificially re-labelled according to governmental dictat. Alternatively we could just be ‘creative’ with the forms. Go on, be artistic – it may be your last chance.