A festival ends on Sunday. By Monday, the team has photographs, attendance figures, press coverage and a collection of social media posts.
All of this demonstrates that the event took place.
But it leaves a more difficult question: what remains once the stage has been dismantled?
Perhaps some people have discovered a cultural space. Perhaps relationships have been forged between artists, organisations and institutions. Or perhaps the programme has ended exactly where it began: as a visible, well-publicised event with no lasting impact.
In recent years, cultural institutions and organisations have linked cultural participation to democracy, social cohesion and public trust. This promise should be handled with care. The report ‘Culture and democracy, the evidence’, produced for the European Commission, brings together research linking cultural participation to greater civic and democratic engagement. It also points out that significant inequalities in access persist.
Culture can contribute to public trust when it offers continuity, artistic freedom and the capacity for genuine participation. Its contribution lies in creating the conditions for encounter, expression and sustained relationships; trust will then depend on how the institution acts.
What does it mean to treat culture as democratic infrastructure?
The word ‘infrastructure’ usually makes us think of buildings. A theatre, a library or a cultural centre are physical infrastructures, but the concept I am proposing – that of ‘democratic infrastructure’ – is broader.
It encompasses the time of those who coordinate, the resources to pay artists, translation, transport, accessibility, the freedom to raise uncomfortable issues, and rules that allow the community to influence decisions.
From this perspective, the building is just one part of the whole. Infrastructure takes on a democratic dimension when that space allows people to meet, create, disagree, participate in decisions and return.
This dimension depends on who participates, who can make proposals and decisions, which voices are given a platform, and how the ideas put forward are received.
The Culture Compass for Europe identifies access, participation, cultural diversity and artistic freedom as among the conditions that European policies must uphold. Its approach helps to shift the conversation away from event programming towards the conditions that make an open cultural life possible.
Therefore, talking about culture as democratic infrastructure means upholding places, relationships, rights and capacities that enable people to participate, express themselves and exert a continuous influence on collective life.
What can culture contribute to public trust?
A campaign usually works with a message, an audience and a timetable. It can inform people quickly, mobilise them at a specific moment or raise the profile of a cause. And, if that is its aim, it can fulfil it very well.
A cultural process operates at a different pace. It can open up a space where people interpret, create and discuss, even when they do not reach a common conclusion. That space accommodates other perspectives, in addition to the message the institution wishes to convey.
When such participation is sustained over time, it can contribute to public trust. A community that sees an institution listening, honouring its commitments, explaining its limitations and nurturing the relationship experiences something quite different from a one-off initiative. Trust can grow out of that continuity and consistency.
The Irish Creative Places programme illustrates this difference. Since 2020, the Arts Council of Ireland has funded programmes in areas that had previously not received sustained investment in the arts. Each area has local coordination and develops its programme based on the community’s needs, opportunities and ideas.
By 2025, the organisation had rolled out the programme across 19 communities, investing five million euros and reaching 125,000 people. An evaluation commissioned from an external team found greater local pride, a stronger sense of connection and a heightened sense of cultural possibility.
The case of Creative Places does not prove that cultural investment generates democratic trust in every context. It does, however, show how the questions change when funding is directed towards time, coordination, local participation and continuity, rather than limiting success to attendance figures.
When culture loses its democratic value
Culture does not arrive in a neutral space. It enters communities marked by inequalities, conflicts, shared memories and varying opportunities to make one’s voice heard.
A programme may use participatory language whilst continuing to give a voice to the same people. It may invite a community when the theme, budget and format have already been decided. It may also select only forms of expression that are convenient for the institution or use artists as spokespersons for a pre-determined message.
UNESCO points out that culture can build bridges, but it can also be exploited for divisive purposes. For this reason, the democratic value of a cultural space depends as much on its purpose as on its rules.
Artistic freedom acts as an important safeguard against such instrumentalisation. The Council of Europe emphasises that artists often bring to light problems, uncomfortable truths and issues that fall outside the usual political discourse.
An institution that supports culture must accept that it cannot control every interpretation. It may set legal, budgetary or security limits, but it must explain these clearly. If every outcome is required to confirm the official narrative, we are dealing with a cultural campaign, not a space for free creation.