National Socialist playwright Hanns Johst wrote in Schlageter: ‘When I hear the word “culture”, I reach for my revolver.’ ‘Culture’ and its progeny ‘culture war’ – coined by Rudolf Virchow to describe the conflict between cultural and religious groups during the Kulturkampfpolitik under Bismarck from 1871 to 1878 – have become some of the most controversial terms in contemporary geopolitical discussions.
Social issues such as abortion, homosexuality, transgender rights, migration and decolonization are often weaponized in culture wars. We are witnessing a systematic, worldwide backlash against the efforts of minorities to be treated with dignity and to demand their cultural rights. Social justice activists are often labelled ‘snowflakes’, ‘virtue signallers’ or ‘social justice warriors.’ Cultural institutions that promote and protect cultural diversity are also the target of such attacks.
In the midst of this toxic political climate, we are confronted daily with images of suffering – triggered by wars, political conflicts, natural disasters and environmental destruction. Some people respond with solidarity and empathy, but many complain of ‘empathy fatigue’. This leads to a series of central questions: can cultural practitioners and cultural institutions empower us to act politically and ethically? Can they challenge us to overcome our indifference and take responsibility? Can creative and affirmative cultural policies contribute to the promotion of transnational justice, the strengthening of democratic structures and the protection of human rights? In view of art and culture’s historical entanglements in colonial and fascist regimes, can we really entrust culture with the task of promoting democracy? Theodor W. Adorno’s statement ‘to write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric’ sums up deep disillusionment with the emancipatory potential of culture. How could a country that produced Bach, Goethe and Kant also produce Hitler, Goebbels and Eichmann? This paradoxical simultaneity of cultural flourishing and political horror forces us to fundamentally rethink the relationship between aesthetics, ethics and power.
Both Edward W. Said in Culture and Imperialism on post-colonialism and Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer in their critique of the culture industry address how culture is instrumentalized to maintain power relations. Said shows how Western literature and culture support colonial ideologies by exoticizing the ‘other’ and legitimizing imperialism. Adorno and Horkheimer, on the other hand, criticize the culture industry as a tool of capitalist rule: mass culture is produced in a standardized way, promotes conformity and prevents critical thinking. Both approaches, therefore, highlight how culture is not neutral but deeply embedded in political and economic power structures.
But despite such deep scepticism, the question remains: what is the political, social and economic role of culture in today’s conditions of global inequality? It is often claimed that ‘big data’ and ‘hard facts’ – graphs and statistics – are the most suitable means of shedding light on current crises. But couldn’t a radical cultural policy strengthen our critical ability to act? Would it not shake us out of our lethargy and indifference?
Altruistic co-existence
Neurobiologists prove it: altruistic behaviour activates happiness hormones – compassion is therefore not only ethically but also physiologically effective. What would it be like to feel the suffering of others as if it were our own? Could our ability to share suffering contribute to a better world in which empathy and compassion – rather than selfishness – determine the principles of social co-existence? Can culture nurture these positive political emotions?
The UNESCO Convention on the Protection and Promotion of the Diversity of Cultural Expressions explicitly obliges states to fight against precarity and exclusion in the cultural sphere, while also securing spaces for free exchange. It emphasizes this ‘dual nature’ of culture and provides a legal basis for combating market concentration. The convention gives states the right to intervene in the power of global corporations and actively stand up for cultural diversity. It guarantees the right of all social groups to their own cultural spaces in which they can freely develop their identity. This obligation not only supports positive freedom by promoting access to cultural expressions and dialogue. It also helps to combat discrimination. The convention thus strengthens not only cultural resilience but also social cohesion by guaranteeing equal rights and freedoms for all groups in society.
In addition, the convention ensures that cultural freedom involves economic guarantees, social rights and mobility. A fairer distribution of cultural resources is essential. Overall, the UNESCO Convention provides a decisive framework for not only protecting but also actively promoting cultural diversity to make societies more resilient to global challenges such as conflicts, climate change and the dismantling of democratic principles.
Attacks on cultural diversity
Despite these positive approaches, culture and cultural practitioners face considerable challenges: commercialization, audience and practitioner accessibility, and the often symbolic yet non-substantive integration of diversity. It is not enough to make token gestures – institutions must strive for real structural change. They have the potential to act as catalysts for empathy and democracy. By creating spaces for dialogue and critical reflection, they can contribute to the formation of responsible global citizens.
Unfortunately, we see that these principles are increasingly under threat. In many countries, including European states, we are experiencing a shift to the right, which is having a direct impact on the freedom and diversity of culture, and the rights of cultural workers. Free and autonomous Austrian cultural initiatives such as W23 in Vienna and Sub in Graz come under repeated attack. In autumn 2016, unknown persons attempted to force their way into W23. Incidents such as this often remain unsolved or aren’t even registered as criminal offences. Initiatives such as W23 are seen as overpriced, elitist projects. Cultural workers who speak out are labelled as ‘traitors to the people’.
The cultural policy situation in Styria, Austria, is also worrying. The political reorganization of funding bodies is resulting in a redistribution of funds away from the free, critical cultural scene towards more conservative projects.
Right-wing groups are increasingly attacking queer forms of expression, including bans on LGBTQIA+ community events such as Pride parades in countries like Hungary. Such political interventions not only jeopardize sexual rights but also restrict the pluralistic and inclusive nature of culture.
Europe has adopted the promotion of cultural diversity. Its commitment to cultural diversity is considered one of the continent’s greatest achievements. Austria is understandably delighted, for example, to have won last year’s Eurovision Song Contest. However, controversy surrounding recent Eurovision Song Contests indicate that Europe and Europeans cannot maintain their credibility as defenders of international law and international human rights law. The accusation that Europe is engaging in culture washing – the deliberate use of cultural events to divert attention away from human rights or political contradictions – is on the rise. Like a pharmakon, culture is both medicine and poison: it can nurture cohesion and resolve conflicts, but it can also corrode social bonds when weaponized.
A culture of resistance
Thankfully, where there’s power, there’s also resistance. And the cultural sector urgently needs to defend its spaces of critical discourse. People, organizations and projects under attack need our solidarity. We can take joint action against political attacks by supporting each other and forming networks: joint events, exchange platforms, collective actions. The defence of cultural diversity and cultural freedom remains a central task in times of political setbacks.
The Stonewall Uprising of 1969 in New York remains a defining example of cultural resistance. When queer people – especially trans women and Black drag queens – resisted police raids on the Stonewall Inn, they not only defended their physical integrity but also their forms of cultural expression, performance and community spaces. Stonewall thus became the starting point of a global movement for LGBTQIA+ rights and queer visibility.
The #RhodesMustFall movement from 2015, initiated by South African students to remove the Cecil Rhodes statue from the University of Cape Town, led to wider calls to decolonize educational and cultural institutions that spread to the UK. Both movements show how marginalized groups use cultural spaces as places of resistance – against repression, racism and patriarchal power structures.
Germany’s and Austria’s independent cultural scenes also provide inspiring examples of how to react to political attacks and defend against restrictions on cultural freedom. The occupation of the Berlin Volksbühne in 2017 as well as the 2024 #kulturlandretten initiative are prime examples. The actions, seen as resistance against neoliberal cultural policies, led to broad public debates about the future of Germany’s and Austria’s independent cultural scenes.
When culture functions as a tool for resistance against ever-increasing commercialization and the dismantling of democracy, it can be more than just a form of expression. It becomes the basis for political, ethical and existential action – for a culture of resistance.
Long may the UNESCO Convention continue to serve as a guide for the promotion of cultural rights and artistic freedom, strengthening the diversity of cultural forms of expression and resolutely opposing the backlash against progressive and emancipatory cultural policy.
This article is based on a speech that the author gave on 21 May 2025 in Vienna at Weltmuseum Wien on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of the UNESCO convention on the diversity of cultural expressions.