Suppose orchestras knew they were in desperate trouble — trouble so bad that they could see extinction looming. Or if not extinction, then at least a sharp cutback in their operations. Should they talk about this publicly?
Maybe not. It’s hard to raise money when extinction looms. “We’re asking you [says the orchestra to a wealthy donor, or corporation or foundation] for two million dollars. Oh, and we might be out of business three years from now.” Understandably, orchestras might not want to go there. They might think, “Well, we’ve got a year or two, at least, and maybe more, before the trouble really hit. Maybe we can fix things before anybody notices how very bad they are.”
But maybe they really should go public. If they don’t, what happens if the truth gets known? Suppose things suddenly got even worse, and an orchestra was forced to make dramatic cutbacks earlier than it expected. Its donors might feel betrayed. “Last year I gave you two million dollars. But you never told me how bad things were!” The orchestra could lose its credibility. The entire field could, including the American Symphony Orchestra League.
And there’s another possible advantage to going public. If you say that things are bad, you have to find solutions. I mean serious solutions, whose viability you can demonstrate to everyone.
But of course — always speaking hypothetically — that could also be a reason (though a sad one) for keeping quiet. If you don’t announce your problems, then you don’t have to find solutions. You can stay in denial, understanding that things are very bad, but not quite admitting (even to yourself) that you don’t know what to do.