Shifting Narratives: Towards the Museum of the Future

Keynote lecture delivered at the NEMO - Network of European Museum Organisations Conference 'Can we talk? Museums facing polarisation', taking place from 10-12 November 2024 in Sibiu, Romania.

I couldn’t resist showing you this image of Valencia, just a few weeks ago.

Whom of you think we are living in a time of crisis?

Whom of you think we can actually do something about this?

Because yes, we are living in a world of crisis: permacrisis, polycrisis, existential crisis, Trump in America, war in Gaza and Ukrain …, young people struggling with mental health issues, an ecological crisis, massive biodiversity loss, climate change. The Great Unraveling of our times, as some call it.

You probably know this image. It is the famous Hockeystick-graph of the northern hemisphere. In the past 2000 years, we’ve seen a long time trend of cooling of the earth’s temperature. But since the industrial revolution, around 1900, this is changing. And currently, as we all know, it is rapidly accelerating into global warming.

This is a graph of 2022, but all IPCC Reports speak for themselves. We do know.

Or rather: we should know.

Or, looking back from whatever future: we could have known. Because that is what future generations will probably say: they knew! They should have done something!

And yet, we fail to respond. Like: really respond.

Why? Is it because we are numb? Because we are speechless?

It is because amidst all this turmoil, we are so utterly divided? It is because we are facing polarization, division, disinformation and populism, and don’t know how to handle this?

Is it because we really don’t know what to do?

Museums, individually and as a sector, cannot avoid these crises.

Activists are literally invading our museums. Our audiences are divided too.

We are part of this, whether we like it, or not.

So what should we do?

Resist activism?

Tighten our security levels, like the National Gallery did?

Or, should we maybe, start to talk. Listen, even?

Like, 20 years ago, in my country, we could still tell ourselves that museums are neutral.

That they are bastions, or well-established repositories of the past. And that we ourselves (as ‘museum workers’) were custodians of that past. We could offer, in that sense, some sort of comforting, canonized stability.

But nowadays, that formula no longer works.

Museums themselves have become battlefields of socio-cultural change.

Environmental issues, the history of slavery, rediscovering female artists, revising the canon, digging up histories that were never told before: museums are shifting the narratives. We are no longer neutral.

O yes, and of course, we are also living in a post-truth society.

So how to judge what is true, and what is not? What is AI-generated, and what is real? What is fake, or to be trusted?

No matter how you turn it, we are all nested in our own filter bubbles.

And so are museums.

So what does that make us?

As individuals, it seems we need to start relying on our own authentic humanness again. As museums, we need to maintain and build trust – for opportunism will only make us less reliable, won’t it?

Suay Aksoy, president of ICOM, said in 2019: "Museums do not need to be neutral, they need to be independent". Independent. Which means: we have to choose. We have to take that responsibility.

In this talk I will reflect with you, on what this means. To be independent. How this may affect your actions in the present AND in the future. So we can, maybe, open an actionable perspective based on courage and commitment.

Preparing this lecture, I read the report of Culture Action Europe, called ‘State of Culture’. It says:

‘In the light of the big, and often disorientating transformations that our societies undergo, arts and culture are where we find meaning, critical reflections on the past and the present, and compelling images of the future.’ Because:

‘Democracies need a future and the promise of change. Such visions of a better future motivate citizens to exercise their freedoms and participate in democratic life.  // It is in the arts and culture that futures are imagined and citizens gain their democratic agency.’

Democratic agency.

Therefore, the theme of this conference is very well chosen. At the NEMO Conference we will explore, I quote, the power museums have to face polarisation. Unquote.

How can we, as museum workers, bridge societal divides and unite communities? What strategies should we adopt when caught in socio-political debates? How can we ensure that underrepresented voices are heard?    

In the upcoming two days, we will address these questions in numerous workshops, presentations and informal meet-ups. We will share concrete experiences and practices.

My talk will, therefore, depart from a more abstract level. I would like to take you on a time travel. Entering a different time scale, navigating on the axis of history, present and future.

Could we extend our attitude as custodians of material objects and immaterial memories towards taking responsibility for that future? How could we bridge the gap towards that distant era called ‘a better future?’ Could we start by maybe including the interests of future generations, as unheard voices? Would that, maybe, make a difference?

As museums, most of us are used to looking in the rear-view mirror. We select, cherish and share the material memory of our societies. We keep it in our storage rooms and turn it into displays. We are, almost by nature, stewards of the past.

But now, in these times of system change, instability and major societal transitions, museums are more and more pressed into actual, urgent matters, whether they like it or not.

Let’s have a look at these time scales. First, there is the here & now, stretching from yesterday to tomorrow. Then, there is the nowadays – the era, the decades, let’s say a period of 30 years. And then there is The Long Now – everything beyond that scale. From the lifetime of one single human being to the origin of life as a whole.

The image I am showing you is from the Long Now Foundation, who have been exploring the concept of deep time. Their programs are originating from a crystal clear, two sentence mission: ‘We hope to help each other be good ancestors. We hope to preserve possibilities for the future.’

In a society dominated 24/7 by immediate impulses and gratification of needs, the long-term perspective of deep time might offer a way out of rusty, dysfunctional systems, habits, and ideas.

For many of us, the future seems so far away. Like a distant utopia. Or science fiction. We might be afraid of apocalyptic scenarios, or of a future controlled by algorithms. We might long for paradise, embrace the principle of regeneration, or start fighting in revolutions.

Look at this image. For an early 19th century drawing, it might look pretty futuristic. But the balloon was already invented some 50 years earlier, in 1783, by two French brothers called Mondgolfier.

All in all, if you really look at the history of the future, it turns out that we are actually pretty bad in predicting it. So why bother? Why care?

The philosopher Roman Krznaric writes in his book ‘The Good Ancestor’ (p.244): [Quote] To envision the lives of our younger loved ones stretching into the distance beyond our own can be a bridge to a longer now. (…) Seeing ourselves as part of that chain can bring an unexpected gift: a sense of meaning in our lives. We can nurture our need for connection and relationships by creating an empathic bond with future generations across the timescape. We can derive purpose from striving to secure the flourishing of life, generation after generation.’ Unquote.

In the many time travelling workshops that I’ve facilitated in the past years, two things always strike me. First, that the future belongs to all of us, whether we are left or right, whether we differ or not: the act of imaging the lives of future generations makes us jump across the shadow of our own individual interests, and embrace a new kind of collective imagination. The other thing is, that when asked to imagine ideal futures, many people come up with green, lavish, garden-like scenarios, deeply rooted in nature. Whereas in reality we are so detached from it, in our most desirable dreams, we somehow magically seem to end up in paradise again.

Did you know, BTW, that scientific research shows that in our brains, the hippocampus is the critical area involved both imagination and memory? So yes, as well as AI, we construct possible scenarios based on past experiences. But the crucial part that makes us different from any machine, is of course the fact that we can be creative, imaginative, and playful.

[Seems like something we could manage, in the cultural sector – couldn’t we?]

So, let’s play a bit.

Let’s give it a try. Let’s do some time travelling.

NEMO was established in 1992 as an independent network of national museum organisations in Europe. If we take that fast forward 32 years, then we in the here and NOW. Here, with you, in this room.

If we take another 32 years, we’re in the year 2056. NEMO, by then, will be twice as old as it is now. Imagine, what age will you have in 2056? Presumably?

I myself could be 87 by that time. But those of you who are now, say 23, will then have my current age, which is 55. So what will it be like, to be 55 in 2056?

It’s nice to fool around with numbers a bit, in order to start the process of time travelling. But fooling around with words and images is interesting too. For example, what would a NEMO conference taking place in 2056 look like? What would we talk about?

I gave it a try too. Fooling around with words, I asked Chat GTP.

Inspired by the State of Culture report (CAE) I asked the algorithm what keywords would represent these years. Take a look at the outcomes.

Who remembers 1992?

That year, the Treaty of Maastricht was signed by the, then, 12 members of the European Union, passing on part of their sovereignty to the European Parliament. Also, they decided to establish a new European currency: the Euro. No wonder Chat GTP came up with the word ‘Europe’. But also, we were puzzled by the upcoming internet, by the impact of globalization and, in some countries, the start of postcolonial debates. This is only 32 years ago, right?

Today, in our contemporary world, we seem to talk a lot about ecosystems and other kinds of interconnectivity, while at the same time we are bothered by polarization and climate change.

Fast forward to 2056. In 32 years, we might be talking about climate restoration, about regeneration, shared intelligence and authentic humanism (in the face of AI and quantum computing, I guess).

OK, so what does this quick trip bring us? What kind of questions or insights?

One question might be: ‘Are you prepared?’

Are you prepared to envision a future that lies beyond the average four years of a policy report, institutional strategy or political program? Are you prepared to take action, based on an envisioned future that benefits all of us, as a collective?

Because, as I have heard someone say once, I quote: ‘The future is not something that is abstract and intangible. Future is what we make of it. It is the result of our actions; of the choices we make in the here and now.’ Unquote.

Often, we tend to outsource the future. As if it’s not up to us. Because it feels so far away, and so uncertain. As if we don't need to engage with it.

Because let’s be fair. Many people don’t feel equipped or powerful enough to shape that future. They are asking the one million dollar question:

What can I do?

What can I do?

What can I do?

What can I do?

Well, as Margaret Mead seems to have put it once: "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."

ICOM-president Aksoy stated that in these times of polarization, museums should act independently.

But in reality, I see a lot of self-censorship among museum workers, who really feel they cannot make the difference. That they are bumping into that BIG FRIKKIN WALL – as my dear friend and collegue Michael Peter Edson put it to you on the recent NEMO conference in Portugal. A big frikkin wall consisting of stuck systems; habits, rules and regulations; powerplay and hierarchies; markets and growth numbers; division and indifference.

In order to empower you a bit, I would like to make a brief turn in my story, and tell you something about Donella Meadows theory of change. Donella, one of my heroes, was an MIT environmental scientist and co-author of the 1972 Limits to Growth report of the Club of Rome.

In this image, you can see the different leverage points that enhance systemic changes. 

On the left, the system is rotating; just the way it does time and time again.

On the right you can see the lever, with at the left side of it some examples of small incremental changes taking place within the system, based on monitoring and evaluation processes, for example.

On the far right however, you can see a set of more impactful, transformative leverage factors, such as changing the rules of the game, shifting the goals of these systems, and – most impactful: changing the underlying mindsets and paradigms.

Now, the interesting thing is, these underlying mindsets and paradigms are what we call CULTURE. It’s the collection of ideas, beliefs and values that shape our societies, and every part of it.

And as far as Donella Meadows is concerned, it is this set of paradigms – our collective cultural resources – that provide the most impactful leverage for societal transformation: for real, actual change.

Culture is way more powerful than we tend to think.

As the State of Culture report states it: ‘Culture is recognized for celebrating the past but is overlooked as a catalyst of the future.’

So, if that’s the case, what does this mean for the cultural sector as a whole, for the museum sector in particular and for us, as museum workers, and human individuals?

If we aim to instrumentalize the museum as a guide towards the future, then what can we do?

Let’s ask Donella Meadows again.

Let’s look at her Theory of Change from a more practical perspective.

Look at the picture again: on the left, the current system. On the right, our cultural leverage potential that is capable of changing public mindsets… a cultural leverage potential consisting of goals, beliefs and values.

Below, you may see that changing measurable things is far more easy than implementing cultural changes. But if you want to pursue systemic change, or contribute to it, these three concepts remain very, very important:

Goals. Beliefs. And Values. These are the mental models that are at the core of our collective and individual decision-making processes.

You probably recognize this image. The lowest level is the level of daily operations, the stream of events and actions taking place on a regular basis. They are guided by a set of practices, and structured by preconditioned systems. But these systems always nest in mental models, in cultural drivers that steer our individual and institutional decisions and actions. The stronger the set of shared goals, beliefs and values, the more impactful our actions will be.

It is all about the narrative.

So, what’s your narrative?

What are your goals, beliefs and values?

And, if you are representing a museum, initiative, organization or institution, then what are their goals, beliefs and values?

Do you know?

Do they fit?

Can you actually work with the cultural leverage that is present within your institution and its interaction with the wider world?

You know, I remember really well that I thought, a few years ago, there was really not much I could do. I really felt I didn’t have enough leverage to make a difference. Even though I held quite a powerful position as a museum director, I felt powerless and frustrated in the light of the huge societal challenges we were facing. I even considered to stop reading newspapers and social media altogether – go on a media diet to save my soul. But it just didn’t feel good. It felt as if I was giving up, as a retreat, seeking refuge, avoiding confrontations.

That’s when I started reading the work of the American farmer, poet and activist Wendell Berry. He provided me with a simple, practical to do list.

One. Be infinitely curious about the place where you are. It’s not about where you are not. It’s about where you are, where you act, where you can make a difference, in your own circle of influence.

Two. Based on that knowledge and that influence, make small adjustments in your place, every single day.

And three: stick to those changes. If you do that, over time, you will see that you have contributed to major change. Just trust the process. Your circle of influence will be much more impactful than you might imagine.

So, let’s assume you got this.

You got the idea that culture carries the huge potential of shifting narratives.

You got the idea that you are empowered to do something in the place where you are.

Let’s assume you got the ambition to shape that better future.

Then, what are we looking at?

In the face of division, and polarization, for example?

The term polarization was first used in optics, coined in 1811 by a French physicist, who took it from the Latin word Polaris. From the 1950s of last century onwards, it has been used more and more in a societal context, "to accentuate a division in a group or system". We all know what that looks like. Fundamentally fractured societies.

Last September, the Rijksmuseum had to close down due to an Extinction Rebellion protest.

These days, America seems to be the true battlefield of the cultural war that is also invading Europe and other countries. You can actually see that fascist populists like Donald Trump are really good in fighting these wars of culture. Although, from where I stand, this narrative is totally detached from what is truly at stake, their stories, their narratives, their world views, beliefs and values are super effective. They are fighting their cultural war successfully.

In these complex times, full of chaos and uncertainty, populists manage to touch upon the intolerance for complexity that many of us feel in the face of globalization, digitization and post-truth media. Trump is just really successfully selling a new populist narrative. Which is a cultural narrative, whether you like it or not.

And we? As as museum sector? Are we also plugging new, cultural narratives?

Or are we merely adjusting the system that we’re used to? Afraid to make mistakes? Afraid to take a risk?

Are we maybe, basically and massively afraid of the cultural change we might actually evoke we would step up? For example, when compared to the policy making sector or the commercial sector, then how are we really different? In other words: do we dare to make use of the cultural capital of transformation that is embedded in our cultural DNA? Are we actually aware of this potential?

How about changing this perspective? What would it take?

It's true, change is always confusing. It’s never easy.

Let’s have a look at William Bridges transition model. The circle in the middle, that’s business as usual. From left to right, you can see the set of emotions that tend to come with change. From denial and anxiety to acceptance, hope and energy.

So yes, there is a lot of stress involved, especially when your chaotic processes of renewal are hitting or even surpassing the business-as-usual practice.

But the good news is: where friction is being expressed, that’s when you know real change is in the air. And guess what: to navigate these changes requires skills like creativity, the ability to improvise, the will to imagine alternatives beyond the status quo, the ability to empathize with non-usual suspects, the will to create a platform for debate; those are the almost unique skills and powerful assets of the cultural sector.

The skills we need to navigate transitions are the skills of the cultural sector.

We are agents of change.

We are generally better equipped to embrace chaos and take risks, than you probably would imagine. And I promise you: it is worth trying. Because in this area, the messy stuff wins; chaos is movement; and movement is the announcement of a new beginning.

I would like to end with a personal note.

I told you about the three golden rules of Wendell Berry. But in fact, he added a 4th one:

Make a habit of uniting things that shouldn’t be separated.

Unite things that shouldn’t be separated. Like objects and people. Or stories and communities. Museums and streetlife. The cultural sector and it’s democratic agency.

Or, on a deeper level, Wendell Berry expresses this: be aware of what we share, of what unites us.  

Do you know an average human being breathes in & out about 23,000 times a day?

Do you know the oxygen we breathe in is produced by plants, trees and oceanic algae?

Imagine: four oak trees produce enough oxygen to let one adult breathe for one year!

It is amazing to realize how these intelligent natural ecosystems of which we humans are part of, unite us.

Another example: water. There’s this beautiful quote by Jarod Anderson:

(BTW On average, our human bodies consist for 65% of water, which is about 45 liters a body.)

Here’s what Anderson has to say: ‘The water in your body is just visiting. It was a thunderstorm a week ago. It will be the ocean soon enough. Most of your cells come and go like morning dew. We are more weather pattern than stone monument.’

So, if we are all connected, how about doing this together?

How about choosing a more regenerative perspective? Inspired by indigenous cultures, the regenerative movement encourages us to deal with the sense of place; to engage with the diverse range of communities that act as expressions of that place, rather than owners of it. Departing from the holistic ability to understand the ecosystems your community is embedded in; and the ability to respond to contextual change by co-designing transformation, almost continuously.

Like in biological evolution, we museum workers are capable of being the wise disrupters that enable processes of transformation. So just look in your place, in your own biosphere, in your local communities. Make those local connections. Open up dialogues in order to enable empathic exchange in a sphere of playfulness, transparency and trust. Be that wise disrupter.

For we as museum workers are not capable of saving the planet, but we are capable of creating those safe places for exchange, and help shifting cultural narratives. We can do this, and we should do it more consciously.

Another side note. I am a fan of this quantum physicist, Carlo Rovelli. He is telling us that quantum physics is not about things, or matter as we know it, but about relationships: it’s about these mysterious spaces ‘in between’ that we cannot get hold of, that we cannot touch or change in a predictable, structured way, because these relationships themselves are the change.

Think about walking. You think you are the one who decides where you walk, right? But this is not the case at all, of course. You always walk in relation to your surroundings. While walking, you continuously choose and interact with what’s around you.

So yes: relations matter. And yes, they are by nature always dynamic.

‘Everything you change, changes you’.

If you keep that in mind, then maybe museums should be much more focused on relational strategies and interaction with audiences, rather than focus on the prestige of exhibitions they produce, or the number of visitors coming in next week. Maybe they should be much more aware of their interconnective potential, for museums are such inspiring junctions of heritage, art, science, knowledge, experience, education and entertainment. They are interdisciplinary by nature. And interdisciplinarity is - I am quoting Merlin Sheldrake here - a superpower.

So, in the past half hour, I have been talking about possible futures, cultural narratives and about the chaotic nature of change.

Museums provide their visitors with different lenses on reality, whether they are imagined or not. With the help of artists and other creative minds, we are masters in shifting societal perspectives.

As cultural workers, we are agents of change. The question is whether we take this role seriously, or not. Are you aware of your independency? Do you know what your distinct goals, beliefs and values are - your driving forces? Did you pay attention to the cultural narrative that you represent, and did you envision a desired future based on that narrative? Are you actually prepared to take action? How about reinforcing relationships with your local communities?

It is not easy to say how museums can play a role in shaping new models for the future. But working in close interaction with citizens and local communities is really key. It all depends on the narrative you embrace in relation to the communities your museum is nested in. And yes, there are many examples of museums doing just this in a beautiful, balanced and purposeful way. They do overcome the effects of polarisation, disinformation and populism. It is possible.  

A friend of mine, architect Ninke Happel, recently wrote that we should always look back thoughtfully but move forward radically.

Because once upon a time… Rosa Parks was not allowed to sit in a bus… Scientists didn't believe plants could eat meat… Women got automatically fired when they married... And some people believed you could carry a phone in your pocket.

The future is not something distant, and far away. It is what we make of it.