L|A|L’S Q&A WITH ANUPAMA SEKHAR

(1) We often hear folks talking about the "UNESCO 1980 Recommendation concerning the Status of the Artist.” What was that about, and did it really change anything?

The UNESCO 1980 Recommendation concerning the Status of the Artist is considered a landmark international instrument – it was adopted in 1980 by UNESCO’s General Conference (i.e., by all UNESCO member governments) and articulates the following:

• Recognition for artists and cultural professionals as professionals contributing to society.

• Promotion of freedom of expression and freedom of association for artists/ cultural professionals.

• Improved working conditions for artists and cultural professionals, including access to social security, labour rights, training and education.

• Ensuring the economic rights of artists—particularly their right to fair remuneration and control over their works.

• Encouraging governments to integrate arts and culture in national development plans and ensure the participation of artists and cultural professionals in policymaking.

Historically, therefore, this UNESCO Recommendation is important as it foregrounded the need to understand and strengthen the role of the “creative worker” as well as the need to improve the status of such workers considering both the particular conditions of their profession and their contribution to development.

But did it change anything? Yes, because…

• It provided a normative framework for governments to develop cultural and labour policies. The Recommendation helped by defining what a state’s obligations should be toward artists and cultural professionals. [A Recommendation, in the UNESCO universe, is a non-binding instrument that sets out guidelines or principles for national policy and practice. Unlike Conventions, which are legally binding upon ratification, Recommendations serve as soft law—intended to influence national legislation, policy development and normative frameworks through consensus and moral authority. On the flip side, as a ‘recommendation’ (not a convention), it lacks legal force as governments are not obliged to implement its provisions. UNESCO does monitor progress on the implementation of the Recommendation through a global survey and consultation approximately every four years (see the latest consultation results at “Empowering Creativity: Implementing the UNESCO 1980 Recommendation Concerning the Status of the Artist; 5th global consultation” 2023)  as well as through the Global Report on the implementation of the 2005 Convention].  

• Civil society organisations continue to cite the Recommendation in campaigns for improved working conditions, freedom of expression and public funding for the cultural and creative sectors. So, it continues to be a reference for advocacy. (Of course, in many countries, freedom of artistic expression continues to be under threat despite the Recommendation and the 2005 Convention, but these instruments also serve as tools for advocacy).

• Some countries (e.g., Canada, France, and parts of Latin America) have drawn from the principles of the Recommendation to shape artist visa policies, copyright laws and artist income support. UNESCO continues to support many countries to use the Recommendation as a starting point to develop a Status of the Artist law (see UNESCO’s Methodological Guide for the Participatory Development of a Law on the Status of the Artist, 2023). So, the Recommendation’s impact on policymaking remains relevant and ongoing 45 years after it was first adopted.

• The Recommendation created a baseline for monitoring, as it laid the groundwork for later efforts—such as UNESCO’s 2005 Convention on the Diversity of Cultural Expressions—to monitor and report on the status and rights of cultural professionals. The 2005 Convention reinforced the Recommendation by offering a stronger normative basis for supporting artists’ roles in cultural production.

Some limitations are also that the Recommendation predates the digital era, and thus does not address challenges like platform economies, streaming royalties or algorithmic curation. The concept of the ‘artist’ remains tied to a Western-centric idea of professional practice, with less attention to informal or community-based cultural production.

Another ongoing area of work is whole-of-government approaches to ensure integration into broader policy agendas (policy initiatives in favour of cultural professionals continue to be often siloed within ministries of culture, with weak links to labour, education and social protection frameworks).

In conclusion, I would argue that the Recommendation—together with the 2005 Convention—still matters, as it continues to carry both symbolic and normative weight. It lends legitimacy to artists' demands globally, for recognition as a part of society’s labour force and particularly in contexts where artistic freedom is under threat. Additionally, the Recommendation has regained relevance in the wake of COVID-19, which reignited attention to the precariousness of artists’ livelihoods and brought the Recommendation back into focus.

(2) We understood the cultural exception was a way for France to create trade agreements that protect French film from Hollywood. But recently we hear people talking about “cultural exceptions” as a tool in the toolkit that policymakers use to help right the wrongs of colonialism. We don’t get that. Doesn’t a cultural exception make it just as hard for an Algerian filmmaker to enter the French Market as it does a Hollywood filmmaker?

The idea of cultural exception emerged in the 1990s, especially championed by France, to protect domestic cultural industries—like French cinema, music, and publishing—from being overwhelmed by dominant players, particularly Hollywood. In simple terms, cultural exception can be viewed as a shield for domestic culture. The core argument was that cultural goods and services aren’t just commodities, and states should have the right to support and regulate them, including through quotas, subsidies, and investment obligations—even if that runs counter to free trade principles. So yes, it was largely about preserving national cultural identity and maintaining sovereignty over cultural policy in global trade negotiations.  

It is important to note that the principle of cultural exception is typically invoked to protect a domestic cultural industry from a dominant or hegemonic or large player, rather than applied uniformly across all contexts or countries—especially with those that are themselves underrepresented or vulnerable. For example, France is far more likely to invoke cultural exception in trade negotiations with the United States to limit the dominance of Hollywood in French cinemas, than with Algeria, whose film industry poses no threat of overwhelming the French market. On the contrary, Algerian cinema and filmmakers are relatively underrepresented in the European and global markets, and may require preferential treatment or other forms of support from France in order to access the French market and reach French audiences. So, France using cultural exception in a trade agreement with Algeria would serve no protective purpose and could further marginalise an already vulnerable Algerian cultural sector. (Noting also cultural exception clause, if used narrowly, may end up re-entrenching national borders rather than opening them—the same protections, like local content quotas or subsidies, that shield French culture from Hollywood can also create barriers for non-Western artists, including those from former colonies like Algeria).

In recent years, some cultural policymakers and activists have reframed cultural exception as part of a broader toolkit for cultural justice. Their logic is:

• If used thoughtfully, cultural exception can protect vulnerable or underrepresented cultures (including Indigenous, diasporic, or formerly colonised communities) from being wiped out by global media or cultural monopolies.

• It gives states the legal space to implement affirmative policies: supporting minority languages, funding non-commercial arts, or resisting cultural homogenisation.

• In this broader vision, preferential treatment (under the 2005 Convention) and cultural exception are complementary: the first helps marginalised creators enter global markets, while the second allows countries to build their own ecosystems without being forced to “open up” to dominant players.

Yes, cultural exception can be a tool for addressing the injustices of colonization—but its effectiveness depends on how it is used, and by whom. When invoked by formerly colonised countries to assert their own cultural sovereignty, it can indeed serve as a meaningful decolonial instrument.

(3) This idea of preferential treatment sounds massive! Can you give us a rough-and-ready explanation of what it is? Our understanding is that this is binding, so why isn’t the world rapidly becoming a better place?

Preferential treatment refers to special advantages or exemptions granted to certain countries or groups, typically in trade or development, to address inequalities. The purpose of preferential treatment is to help countries from the Global South or vulnerable groups by giving them better access, lower tariffs or special quotas.

In the cultural and creative sector, UNESCO’s 2005 Convention on the Protection and Promotion of the Diversity of Cultural Expressions calls for countries from the Global North to offer preferential treatment to cultural goods and services from Global South countries to promote equity in cultural exchange and trade. For example, a Global North country might offer funding or easier market access for films from countries in the Global South (without expectation of reciprocity).

In simple terms, Article 16 of the 2005 Convention creates an obligation for Parties (aka countries who have ratified the Convention) from the Global North who have ratified the Convention, to give more favourable access to their markets and opportunities to artists, cultural professionals, goods and services from Global South-country Parties. Notably, this commitment is unilateral – it is meant to be without reciprocity, i.e. countries from the Global South are not required to give the same treatment in return. The clause was a novel addition in 2005, signalling a shift towards linking trade and cultural cooperation to rebalance global cultural exchanges. It is meant to promote equity—enabling more balanced flows of culture in global markets (which continue to be dominated by the Global North).

Preferential treatment can, therefore, be seen as a corrective mechanism to counter global imbalances in cultural trade and exchange. It is about enabling artists and cultural goods from the Global South to circulate more freely, sustainably and equitably in the global cultural ecosystem. Preferential treatment can take the form of various measures, such as:

• Trade-related measures could include lowering tariffs or simplifying customs for books, films, music or crafts from developing countries; or, granting market access to cultural goods/services (e.g. co-production treaties, exhibition quotas for foreign films or artworks).

• Mobility and visa facilitation measures such as priority visa processing or multiple-entry visas for artists from Global South countries to perform, exhibit, or collaborate abroad; as well as residency permits, work permits or cultural exchange programmes.

• Financial and technical assistance could include funding for translation, subtitling, or distribution of films, books, or performances from developing countries; as well as co-production funding or support for joint festivals, showcases and exhibitions.

• Capacity-building and knowledge transfer could include training programmes or scholarships for artists, cultural entrepreneurs and administrators; digital literacy and technology transfer for cultural production (e.g., access to editing software, digital archives or streaming platforms).

• Support for market access and promotion such as invitation to international fairs, biennales or trade missions with dedicated support or subsidised participation; marketing support for cultural content (e.g., showcasing Global South cinema in Global North markets).

In legal commentary, Article 16 is often highlighted as a binding obligation – the use of “shall” indicates a firm commitment by Parties, especially Global North countries, to implement measures favouring cultural imports and exchanges from Global South countries. In practice, however, its implementation has been modest – a few pioneering efforts (EU’s trade agreement with Caribbean states: the Economic Partnership Agreement between the European Union and Caribbean (CARIFORUM) states was the first major North-South trade deal to put Article 16 into practice; various co-production accords) demonstrate that preferential treatment is achievable, but many Parties have yet to translate the promise into policy. The obligation is unquestionably part of binding international law for ratifying states, yet enforceability relies on soft mechanisms: persuasion, cooperation, and the normative influence of the Convention, rather than any hard sanctions. Legal and cultural policy experts generally view Article 16 as a powerful commitment on paper that needs much more political drive to realize its full potential.

There are key differences between cultural exception and preferential treatment: At first glance, cultural exception and preferential treatment might seem contradictory: how can you restrict cultural imports (to protect your own) and encourage imports from others (to promote theirs) at the same time? However, they are not inherently contradictory because they serve different goals and apply to different situations.

The goal of cultural exception is to protect domestic culture (and avoid being overwhelmed by dominant cultures) through exclusion from trade liberalisation, while that of preferential treatment is to include underrepresented or disadvantaged groups through targeted support. Cultural exception can be seen as defensive (i.e., to protect local industries), while preferential treatment is affirmative in nature (i.e., to promote inclusion or access). So, the key beneficiary of cultural exception are domestic cultural industries, while artists, cultural professionals, cultural goods and services from foreign and Global South countries benefit from preferential treatment. Cultural exception arises in the context of trade agreements and national sovereignty, aiming to protect cultural goods and services from being treated like ordinary commodities in trade negotiations. Preferential treatment is rooted in principles of equity and international solidarity, focusing on supporting fair cultural exchanges between countries in the Global North and the Global South (i.e., North-South or North-South-South co-operation) and within Global South countries (i.e., South-South co-operation).

The two can work together: a country might block a free trade clause that would flood its market with foreign media and dominant market forces (cultural exception); at the same time, establish a fund or quota to import and broadcast films from underrepresented regions, such as African or Indigenous filmmakers (preferential treatment). This strengthens local cultural sovereignty while amplifying cultural diversity.

(4) The Fair Culture Charter explicitly mirrors the “Fair Trade” certification model: can we somehow certify a given cultural production as “fair” by examining the whole value chain from artist to consumer, and establishing protocols of fairness along the chain? That seems really logical, but when you start thinking about how different art is from coffee, the idea starts sounding pretty complex. When you and your colleagues were writing the Fair Culture Charter, was this “certification” process the whole goal, or was it only one part of a broader idea? Can you tell us anything about how you imagine it working?

Excellent and important question. Yes, the idea of ‘fairness across the cultural value chain’ was directly inspired by the Fair Trade model. Just as Fair Trade asks how a product like coffee moves from farmer to consumer—and whether that chain respects labour rights, environmental ethics and equitable pricing—we asked: Can cultural production be evaluated through a similar lens of fairness?

But as you rightly point out, culture is not coffee. There are some fundamental differences:

• Art is not a commodity in the same way—its value is often symbolic, subjective and very much context-dependent.

• Authorship and ownership are diffuse—from community-based traditions to large-scale productions involving many actors.

• And market structures differ greatly—some artists work through public funding, others through galleries or festivals, others online with platform intermediaries.

Because of these complexities, the idea of a universal certification scheme—like a Fair Culture label—was seen as one possible application of the Charter, which once launched was expected to generate its own direction (rather than be centrally designed by the German Commission, its partners etc.). So, the broader idea, I would say, is that the Fair Culture Charter was conceived as a normative framework—a set of shared principles and voluntary commitments to guide more equitable practices in international cultural cooperation. One of the first applications we envisaged was that the Charter would encourage organisations and practitioners to self-assess, revise practices, and eventually adopt specific protocols relevant to their contexts and trust-based, iterative processes to uphold it. In practice, these could include self-assessment guides or scorecards; fair practice guidelines tailored to specific contexts; voluntary declarations of adherence; and, potentially, in the future, third-party verification for those who want to go further. In short, certification is one tool—not the entire toolbox. The real goal is structural change, not just a badge.

(5) Last question! We understand that there have been a couple of potentially exciting cultural policy developments in the last three years at UNESCO and at the UN itself. Can you tell us about those, and give us a sense of what impact they may have on global cultural policy?

The MONDIACULT 2022 Conference in Mexico City — UNESCO’s flagship global forum for cultural policy, bringing together Ministers of Culture from around the world to set priorities, share strategies, and advance culture's role in sustainable development — produced a landmark Declaration that recognised culture as a global public good, emphasised cultural rights, sustainable development, digital regulation and urged the UN to adopt a standalone Culture Goal in the "the post-2030 global development agenda,” which will succeed the current Sustainable Development Goals/SDGs (which are in effect from 2015 to 2030).

 A standalone goal for culture in the post-2030 agenda would compel governments to give culture higher policy priority and allocate dedicated budgets, ensuring it is systematically integrated into national development planning. (Culture is not a standalone goal in the current SDGs, but it is indirectly recognised in targets related to heritage protection, education, sustainable tourism and inclusive societies.)

 In 2024, the Pact for the Future—adopted by all UN Member States at the Summit of the Future—advanced culture’s role through Action 11, which promotes its integration into sustainable, environmental, and economic policies, but fell short of calling for culture as a standalone goal in the post-2030 agenda. However, G7 Ministers of Culture in their Declaration (Naples, Sept 2024) explicitly stated they will “promote the inclusion of culture as a standalone goal in future discussions on how to advance sustainable development beyond 2030”. The effort to build global consensus among governments remains ongoing.

Leading into 2025, the civil society-led Culture2030Goal campaign plans to publish a first draft of a formal Culture Goal in July 2025, kicking off global consultations aimed at ensuring its formal recognition at MONDIACULT 2025 and thereafter. Looking ahead, MONDIACULT 2025 (29 Sep–Oct 1, Barcelona) will bring together Culture Ministers from all 194 UNESCO member states to advance the MONDIACULT 2022 Declaration’s priorities, including cultural rights, digital transformation, climate action, heritage in crisis, the cultural economy, and culture in education. Special focus areas include Artificial Intelligence and Culture for Peace. The push for culture as a standalone goal in the post‑2030 agenda is expected to continue at MONDIACULT 2025.

 The post-2030 UN development agenda, which will shape the next iteration of the SDGs, is expected to be negotiated through intergovernmental processes beginning around three years before the 2030 deadline.