Culture Is Neither Ceremonial Nor a Luxury

Whenever an institution wants to demonstrate its commitment to culture, it quickly organizes a festival, conference, or award ceremony. Banners are raised, photographs are taken, and speeches are delivered about enlightenment, awareness, and soft power. Then the event ends, and everything returns to the way it was. There is, of course, nothing wrong with celebrations and festivals; they can open a window onto art and knowledge. The problem arises when we treat them as culture itself, rather than merely one manifestation of it.

Culture is deeper than an opening ceremony and more demanding than a crowded program of seminars. It is the way a society sees itself and others, the language it uses when it disagrees, and the extent to which it respects knowledge, expertise, and beauty. Culture is reflected in the school before it appears on the stage, in the way people are treated inside a government office before they enter a conference hall, and in the quality of public dialogue before it is reflected in the number of books displayed at an annual book fair.

A country may hold hundreds of cultural events while reading rates decline, regional libraries are neglected, and artists and writers struggle to reach their audiences. Large sums may also be spent on impressive cultural buildings without providing them with competent management, sustainable programming, or sufficient freedom for creative expression. A building does not create culture by itself, just as building a school does not produce quality education without teachers, a curriculum, and an environment that respects questions.

Genuine culture is a long, daily endeavor whose results do not appear quickly. It begins with a child finding a book suited to their age, a teacher who does not punish them for asking an unconventional question, a public library nearby, a theater whose presence is not confined to the capital, and digital content that respects their intelligence. It also begins with protecting heritage from neglect rather than merely using it as a backdrop for celebrations, translating global thought, encouraging local production, and making the arts accessible to those who cannot afford them.

Developing taste, encouraging critical thinking, and establishing acceptance of differences are processes that require years and do not offer decision-makers the kind of quick achievement that can easily be showcased. This is why some cultural policies tend to favor what can be photographed over what can genuinely transform society.

Culture is not a luxury that can be postponed until economic problems have been resolved. It lies at the heart of the economy, politics, and social stability. A society that respects work, excellence, and time differs economically from one that tolerates disorder and randomness. A society that learns how to manage differences is less inclined toward violence and extremism. Even a country's image abroad cannot be built through public-relations campaigns alone; it is shaped by the ideas, arts, literature, and cinema it produces, as well as by the space it gives its creative talents.

The goal is not to eliminate festivals or diminish their value, but to place them within a broader cultural project. What matters is not the number of events, but what changes after they are over.

A celebration may draw attention to culture, but it cannot replace it. Culture is not a season that comes to an end; it is the slow construction of the human being. If its impact does not reach the way people think and live their daily lives, the lights may remain beautiful, but the theater itself will still be empty inside.

Reprinted from Al-Masry Al-Youm.