Sunday Herald

MERCHANT bank for the arts or just a pen-pushing cultural bureaucracy: what is the real role of the Scottish Arts Council?

Now in its seventh decade as Scotland's only substantial patron of the arts (it started life as the Scottish Committee of the Arts Council of Great Britain in 1947), the council has been called many things in its time -- the nomen clature usually being decided by the result of an application. Money awarded usually results in grudging thanks to a gracious patron; money withdrawn or refused attracts the charge that the philistines have taken over the arts lobby.

Try as it might -- and honest endeavour is one of its more likeable qualities -- the SAC has never quite managed to live down Samuel Johnson's infamous description of a patron of the arts: 'Commonly a wretch who supports with insolence, and is paid with flattery.' But in a sense it could hardly be otherwise.

Scotland is a small country, yet it possesses a sizeable cultural community -- with sizeable egos. Funds are always tight, competition for grants is fierce and demand for SAC cash always seems to outstrip capacity, with the result that for every happy winner there will be disappointed losers left with nothing more creative than a completed application form. Announcing a recent batch of writers' bursaries, the SAC's head of literature, Gavin Wallace, admitted that the high standard of the applications meant it 'could have awarded 27 rather than 17, had funds allowed'. His honesty is admirable -- but not much comfort for the nameless 10 writers who didn't get the cash.

If, as Wallace seems to be suggesting, serious talent is being denied support through lack of funds, perhaps the time has come for the SAC to start telling politicians in no uncertain terms that more, much more, is needed in grant-aid. After all, it is not as if the arts are divorced from Scottish politics. Writers such as Alasdair Gray and artists of the stature of Peter Howson add immeasurably to the way we view ourselves, and lend substance to our appreciation of life in Scotland. Furthermore, the arts contribute to the economy.

Look at any tourist brochure: our galleries and theatres are major draws. Scottish scenery is still viewed through the familiar words of Robert Burns and Walter Scott, and their residences at Alloway and Abbotsford are hallowed and much- photographed places. And these days tourists are also likely to want a pint in Inspector Rebus's favourite pub, or a walk through Leith and Granton with a copy of Trainspotting in their back pocket. VisitScotland claims that Ian Rankin, Irvine Welsh and other younger writers are responsible for bringing millions of pounds into the country from tourist revenues.

And even if that were not true -- even if not one visitor took the time to step inside the Town Hall in Stornoway to visit An Lanntair art gallery, even if they missed out on the wonderfully evocative Argyllshire poetry of Angus Martin -- that would not negate the argument that creativity is central to Scottish life and requires sustenance. It is no secret that the lottery-funded Creative Scotland awards -- which came into being in 1999, the same year as the Scottish parliament -- are already on their last legs and that this week's batch of 10, each worth £30,000, will be the last of its kind.

Other than those who have benefited from them, few will miss the awards. They contributed substantial amounts of money to enable individuals to pursue creative ideas, but there was always the suspicion that applicants were trying to second-guess the judges. Their one-off nature did not help matters, they lacked continuity and sustainability -- and some of the razzmatazz surrounding the first awards was downright embarrassing.

Their main virtue was that they raised the profile of the SAC and turned the creative arts into a public issue. People might have disagreed with individual awards or damned the enterprise outright, but nobody failed to be touched by the enterprise. Like them or loathe them, the Creative Scotland awards at least tickled brain cells and forced us to think about the age-old quandary of how best to provide funds for gifted or promising artists.

It takes a leap of the imagination in the first place to accept the argument that a civilised society should be capable of nurturing and rewarding artistic or literary talent. But that step has surely been taken. Now is the time to make sure that 'the formidable demand' discovered by the SAC in its recent round of awards is not left untapped simply because the funds are lacking.

Trevor Royle was literature director of the Scottish Arts Council from 1971 to 1979