Government Funding Compromises the Spirit of Idealism on Which Voluntary Groups Depend
One assumes that a great cathedral, having stood for centuries, will go on standing forever, but the truth is it is always falling down. If someone doesn’t shore up the shifting foundation and replace the eroded stone facing, it will become a ruin. Stepping in to save dozens of glorious English cathedrals from this plight is a remarkable tribe of volunteers and philanthropists. In their quiet way, they show how voluntary action can perform the kind of public service we often leave to government.
In our visit to Britain last year, my wife, Judy, and I came across many volunteer efforts in the cathedrals. We were especially impressed by the range of activities at the cathedral in Wells, a small city in Southwest England. We spotted our first volunteer in the gardens behind the cathedral, a woman clipping roses. She was one of the “flower ladies” who decorate the cathedral (since the group now has a male member, they’re looking for a new way to identify their group!). At the door, we were met by one of the welcomers, volunteers who greet visitors and hand out the guide pamphlet.
Our leader for the free guided tour was Daphne Shillingford, one of a team of some sixty volunteer guides. These guides are probably more professional, and certainly more enthusiastic, than paid staff would likely be. They have to prepare themselves by studying cathedral history and following the tours of other guides. Then they face a final exam: the chairman of the guides follows their trial tour around, lurking behind pillars, to evaluate their performance. “You see grown men, retired bankers and solicitors, quaking in their boots,” reports Daphne.
The cathedral has a famous ancient clock in the north transept that, on striking the hour, sets mechanical horses galloping round and round. Naturally, tourists flock to watch. The bishop has wisely decided to make this an opportunity to introduce a religious point in what is, after all, a house of worship. After the clock has struck, a priest says a brief prayer, and then visits with the tourists. These prayers are conducted by voluntary chaplains.
Other supporters include voluntary vergers who keep the cathedral open late in the summer for tourists, voluntary bell ringers, voluntary stewards in the library, voluntary stewards at concerts, and a voluntary choir when the regular choirboys are on vacation. All these volunteers give a great sense of warmth to the cathedral. “You don’t get this feeling of voluntary care in cathedrals on the Continent,” said Daphne. Having visited the gloomy cathedrals of Spain, Judy and I can confirm her point.
Another key group is a fund-raising branch called The Friends of Wells Cathedral. Founded in 1933, it has some 3,700 members, including a number of Americans. The Friends raise money to pay for stonework and structural restoration, as well as work on the organ, the bells, and woodwork, and to purchase new equipment. Their achievement has been funding the restoration of the Chapter House—which has cost about $1 million.
There is a worrisome note, however. Last year, the Dean of the Cathedral made history by accepting the first government grant. The amount (£15,000 to help clean some stonework) is insignificant financially, but the negative symbolic effect of the government connection could be harmful. If the government is going to fund the cathedral with tax money, prospective donors and volunteers will start asking, why should we exert ourselves to nurture it? The Dean failed to understand that when a voluntary group starts taking funds raised involuntarily, it compromises the spirit of idealism on which it depends.
For an example of how government funding can transform a voluntary group, consider what has happened to Britain’s Poetry Society. Founded in 1908, the organization was getting along fine until it started accepting government money. The first grant, a mere $7,500, came in the 1970s. As the funding grew, high-salaried professional managers took over, sold the beloved old headquarters building, moved into a new office building that was closed to the public, and spent $14,000 on new, custom-designed desks. Membership fell, and the audience at poetry readings shrank to a handful of insiders. In 1993—shall we call it poetic justice?—the government put the Society on probation, threatening to cut off its $222,000 annual support on the grounds that it had become ineffective.
Government has a way of embracing noble causes and then disabling them with its largesse. Let’s hope English cathedral volunteers realize the danger in time.