Eisteddfod: A platform for the expression of our cultural character and identity

The Jersey Eisteddfod touches the lives of most families in the island, either through the present generation of performers or from its long association with schools, private tutors and individual impresarios who’ve made their names in the community and, in some cases, carried their reputations overseas.

Thanks to the generous sponsorship of the international financial group, Deutsch Bank, and public funding via the Jersey Arts Trust, the Eisteddfod is celebrating its current Festival of the Performing Arts, with a mixture of pride in its past achievements and guarded apprehension over its long-term future.

Clearly, the economic climate affects the scope and health of such bodies which rely on external funding, and, though its current sponsors have tied themselves closely to its brand, the sheer reach of its activities – it also stages a Creative Arts festival in the Spring and supports fourteen autonomous sections – calls for ever more resilience from its band of loyal volunteer helpers.

Nevertheless, it is an institution which, if it were lost, would leave a significant hole in the Island’s cultural focus. The organisers are well aware that they can harbour little complacency and that support for the arts, both in general and on this island, is under pressure. It’s not simply financial support. Tastes change, new skills are celebrated and organisations themselves take on a leaner – though not always meaner, character.

It would be too easy to consider the Gala concerts, held on successive Saturday nights at the end of November in the neo-Edwardian atmosphere of the Opera House, as the formal showcase of local artistic talent. They may represent the icing on the cake but they’re certainly not the only forum.

There’s the cultural output of every school in the island, the facilitation of opportunities for local individuals and groups by grant-giving foundations – not to mention impromptu performances in the street and a wealth of visiting cultural events both commercially and publicly supported, which offer widespread participation.

But, back to the Eisteddfod: is encouraging competition in the arts elitist and exclusive? Well no. After all, we can all sing, draw and dance, can’t we? Whether we compete is a matter of choice. I recall once sitting among some professional ‘cultural’ types and heard one voice raised in protest against government money being channelled into sport. Now sport is very definitely competitive.

And what is sport if it isn’t culture? Not surprisingly, the government department which oversees Culture in the Island is also responsible for Education and Sport. Watching the winners of trophies in dancing at the Opera House last Saturday evening, it was difficult not to equate the grace and athleticism of those performers with the best displays of gymnasts. Indeed the Olympic Games movement recognise the synergies, with categories for Ice Dancing and Synchronised Swimming; it might trouble the purists, but certainly demonstrates the crossover. And there’s a definite achievement dividend for everyday life. Doesn’t fine art and literature flow down into journalism, theatrical oration and fine public speaking infuse general communication with one’s fellow man?

When the Eisteddfod was founded in 1908 by a former Dean of Jersey, the aim was to use its competitive classes as a means by which the speech, presentation, and musical standards of his fellow islanders might be improved – a suitably evangelical ambition from a man of the cloth!

But what better means to infuse confidence in daily life and activity along with a modicum of the sort of social enjoyment indulged in at the time. Its categories have adapted with time – gone are the classes on laundry and shorthand, in have come photography, youth creative arts and crafts and flower arranging, and latterly, performances by ‘signing’ choirs – a first for this small island and a significant leap in social inclusion.

If I may call upon my own experiences as a youngster, staring into the darkness at the row of ‘cat’s eyes’ glowering from the adjudicators’ lamps, turned trepidation into self-confidence, which, though I may not have appreciated at the time, with hindsight was probably character forming. My performance, along with so many of my peers, was decidedly amateur, but the experience was certainly memorable. Unbeknown to us then, and just as important today, is the practice of employing judges from off-island. As a result, the assessment of talent is the more valuable.

So what benefit does the whole experience of an event such as our ‘Eisteddfod’, with its peculiar Welsh title, bring to a community such as ours? It’s certainly far more than simply indulging an amiable – arguably, somewhat detached institution – steeped in tradition and immense inter-divisional pride, staffed by dedicated volunteers. At best, it very clearly shines the light on highly-polished native talent and commitment.

At the very least, it provides a platform for self-expression, a benchmark for expressing individual character and identity. By sheer coincidence, this year’s festival has coincided with the public release by the Council of Ministers of the Common Policy on External Relations. Prominent among its principles is the commitment to ‘promote Jersey’s national and cultural identity abroad’.

How better placed we are to advance a positive foreign policy and attractive reputation if we ensure we have a robust understanding of who we are, what we stand for and the values we cherish, in order to make ourselves an attractive place to live and invest in. It’s called Cultural Diplomacy – of which, more another time.