The story is worth paying attention to, not because it's simply another American political controversy, but because it crystallises fundamental questions about the purpose of arts institutions and the future of subsidy-dependent art forms, questions that matter just as much in Paisley as they do in Washington.
What Actually HappenedIn February 2025, President Trump took the unprecedented step of making himself chairman of the Kennedy Center's board, firing the previous leadership and installing Richard Grenell as the institution's president. Within months, Grenell instituted what he called a 'break-even policy': all programming and facility rentals would need to demonstrate commercial viability through ticket sales alone.
On the surface, this sounds reasonable. Why shouldn't arts organisations pay their way? But here's where it gets interesting, and contradictory.
Grenell demanded that productions prove they could break even on ticket sales. Yet he also acknowledged (indeed, boasted about) raising £100 million in charitable contributions, admitting that no performing arts programming can actually sustain itself on ticket sales alone. So he's requiring something he knows to be impossible, then filling the gap with donations from politically aligned supporters.
The effect was immediate and devastating. Washington National Opera ended its 44-year relationship with the Kennedy Center. The Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater declined to return after decades of residency. Composer Philip Glass withdrew the world premiere of his Symphony No. 15. Artists including Renée Fleming, the touring production of Hamilton, and dozens of others cancelled their engagements. Attendance dropped by 50%.
In February 2026, Trump announced the Kennedy Center would close for two years for what he called the creation of 'a new and spectacular Entertainment Complex'. Note the shift in language: not 'Performing Arts Center', but 'Entertainment Complex'.
The Economic Reality of Performing Arts. Here's what everyone working in the arts knows but often struggles to articulate to funders and policymakers: certain art forms are structurally unable to pay for themselves through ticket sales, regardless of artistic quality or audience enthusiasm.
This isn't a failure of management or marketing. It's basic economics.
Opera, contemporary dance, orchestral music, experimental theatre, new music commissions—these art forms typically earn less than half their costs from ticket sales, even when houses are full. This has been documented since economists William Baumol and William Bowen's landmark 1966 study: live performance faces rising costs that can't be offset by productivity gains. A string quartet in 2025 requires the same number of musicians and rehearsal time as in 1825, whilst manufacturing productivity has increased exponentially.
The solution, developed over decades, has been the nonprofit model: combining ticket revenue with philanthropic support and (in some contexts) public subsidy. This isn't a workaround or a failure—it's the only economically rational way to sustain art forms that create more social value than they can capture through market transactions.
Peter Gelb, general manager of the Metropolitan Opera, put it plainly when asked about the Kennedy Center's new requirements: 'There's no nonprofit performing arts company in the country that can possibly operate without other sources of revenue or funding to complement ticket sales. If the Met operated that way, we wouldn't be able to perform at all.'
The Ideological Sleight of HandWhat Grenell has done, whether intentionally or not, is conflate 'public value' with 'commercial viability'. These are not the same thing.
Public value in the arts encompasses artistic excellence, cultural diversity, educational impact, innovation, and the preservation of art forms that require subsidy. Commercial viability measures market demand at a given price point.
Sometimes these align. Often they don't. And that's precisely why nonprofit arts institutions exist: to support work that creates public value exceeding its private market value.
The 'break-even' policy doesn't improve financial sustainability (the previous model achieved that successfully). What it does is impose a filter ensuring that only commercially proven or politically aligned programming receives institutional support.
Grenell has been explicit about this reorientation, stating the Kennedy Center will focus on 'big productions that the masses and the public want to see', citing Christmas celebrations and shows like The Phantom of the Opera and Cats as models. These are fine productions, but making them the exclusive focus eliminates institutional space for everything else.
What Gets LostWhen commercial viability becomes the sole criterion, entire categories of artistic work become structurally impossible:
New opera cannot meet break-even requirements whilst maintaining production standards. The art form becomes institutionally unviable.
Contemporary dance companies operate on particularly thin margins. The art form survives only in commercially proven contexts (established choreographers, holiday productions).
Experimental theatre - works by emerging playwrights, avant-garde productions, culturally specific programming for minority audiences—all require subsidy to offset limited commercial appeal.
New music commissions rarely achieve commercial success in initial runs. Commissioning new work becomes economically irrational under purely commercial criteria.
Educational programming - school matinees, community engagement, accessibility programmes—typically operates at a loss, cross-subsidised by commercial programming.
This creates what I'd call the innovation paradox: new work, by definition, lacks proven commercial appeal. Artists achieve commercial success through reputation built over years of subsidy-supported development. The break-even policy eliminates the institutional infrastructure that creates commercially successful artists in the first place.
Why This Matters Beyond Washington. I'm writing about the Kennedy Center from Scotland because the underlying tension isn't uniquely American. In my own research on cultural funding in Scotland, I've documented similar patterns: systematic bias in public funding towards commercially viable projects over subsidy-dependent artistic practices.
We see versions of this across the UK cultural sector. Austerity-era funding reforms increasingly privileged 'what sells' over 'what matters'. The 'creative industries' framework, whilst generating valuable political support for culture, risks reducing arts policy to its commercial manifestations.
As Artistic Director of Tannahill Arts Festival, I navigate these tensions constantly. Our community opera productions, contemporary music commissions, and work with marginalised communities will never break even on ticket sales. That's not a failing - it's the nature of the work. The social value, educational impact, and cultural significance far exceed what we can capture in revenue.
If we applied a strict break-even requirement to festival programming, we'd eliminate precisely the work that makes the festival culturally significant rather than just commercially successful.
The Hollow Centre ProblemWhat troubles me most about the Kennedy Center transformation is what might be called the 'hollow centre' problem: an institution retaining the infrastructure and prestige of a major cultural centre whilst abandoning the mission that justified its creation.
The Kennedy Center receives federal subsidy for building operations, tax-exempt status, and donor support specifically because it functions as a national centre for the performing arts, including subsidy-dependent forms. If it operates primarily as a commercial entertainment venue, the rationale for these privileges becomes unclear.
This connects to broader questions in the nonprofit arts sector. When organisations founded for charitable purposes adopt purely commercial operating models, they risk losing both the mission that justified their existence and the competitive advantages of commercial operators. You end up with the worst of both worlds.
What Would Kennedy Have Made of This? There's a particular irony here that feels worth noting. The Kennedy Center was created as a living memorial to President John F. Kennedy, who said: 'I see little of more importance to the future of our country and our civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist.'
He also said: 'We must never forget that art is not a form of propaganda. It is a form of truth.'
The transformation of his memorial into a venue where programming requires either commercial viability or political alignment represents a rather haunting inversion of those principles.
The Broader QuestionThe Kennedy Center case forces a question that every arts funder, board member, and policymaker needs to answer: What is the purpose of nonprofit arts institutions?
If the answer is 'to provide commercially viable entertainment', then they should operate as for-profit businesses and compete on those terms.
If the answer is 'to serve the public good by supporting art forms that create social value exceeding market value', then commercial viability cannot be the sole criterion for success.
You cannot have it both ways. The break-even policy tries to, and the contradiction is destroying the institution it claims to improve.
What Happens Next. As I write this in February 2026, the Kennedy Center is scheduled to close in July for two years of renovation. What emerges in 2028 remains to be seen. Will it be a performing arts centre serving diverse publics and supporting subsidy-dependent art forms? Or will it be an entertainment complex focused on commercially proven productions and politically aligned events?
The answer matters far beyond one institution. If major nonprofit arts organisations adopt purely commercial criteria, where do opera companies premiere new works? Where do contemporary choreographers develop experimental pieces? Where do emerging playwrights find institutional support? Where do community-engaged artists work with marginalised populations?
The elimination of institutional infrastructure for subsidy-dependent work doesn't simply reduce such work. It makes it structurally impossible.
A Personal ReflectionRunning a small arts festival in Scotland, I'm acutely aware that we operate in a very different context from the Kennedy Center. Our challenges involve securing £50,000 grants, not managing £300 million budgets. Our 'resident company' is a community choir, not the National Symphony Orchestra.
But the fundamental question is the same: Do we programme based on what we believe has artistic and social value, or based on what will sell the most tickets?
We've always chosen the former, using commercial programming (our more accessible concerts, our popular holiday events) to cross-subsidise the less commercially viable work (contemporary music premieres, community opera with participants from areas of deprivation, experimental collaborations).
That's not unique to us. It's how the entire non profit arts ecology functions. Remove that ability to cross-subsidise, impose strict break-even requirements, and you don't just change programming—you eliminate entire categories of artistic work.
The Kennedy Center story suggests what happens when commercial logic completely displaces artistic value as the metric of success. It's not pretty, and it's not sustainable, and it betrays the very purpose that justified creating these institutions in the first place.
As we navigate ongoing challenges to arts funding across the UK, that's a lesson worth heeding.
Alan is a composer, Artistic Director of Tannahill Arts Festival, and Associate Lecturer at the University of Glasgow, where he teaches on the Creative Industries degree programme. His research interests include cultural policy, arts funding mechanisms, and the economics of subsidy-dependent art forms.











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