State funding for the arts is a flawed “scam” designed for dependence, writes celebrated choreographer Gregory Maqoma

By Gregory Maqoma

The Great Illusion: How Government Funding in South Africa Has Been Engineered for Dependence, Perhaps Even More For Humiliation.

Government funding in South Africa, especially in the arts and cultural sectors, has long masqueraded as a beacon of support—but in truth, it is a system designed not to empower, but to control. It is, quite frankly, a scam—carefully engineered for dependence and humiliation, not development.

The recent outcome of the National Arts Council (NAC) funding for projects approved for The National Arts Festival, that process has exposed the farce in plain sight. After an outcry from the creative sector, it became clear that a significant number of deserving artists were denied support—despite meeting criteria, delivering consistent work, and shouldering the responsibility of community upliftment. Their hopes were toyed with, their time wasted, and their dignity bruised.

Institutions like The TX Theatre —doing transformative work on the ground with limited resources—are left to plead for help, operating in survival mode, merciful in their tone, they have a responsibility towards their community and the results are shuttering. But why should organisations that consistently deliver impact be left in the cold, while the system maintains a comfortable distance in Pretoria and Newtown behind paperwork and protocol?

Let’s be clear: the NAC should have been transparent from the beginning. If there is only a limited pot, say so. If the maximum allocation per project is capped, state it. Let artists apply with clarity and informed consent. Instead, the process remains opaque and intentionally vague, creating a dangerous cycle of dependency, disappointment, and disillusionment.

This is not support. It is a ritual of humiliation and quite frankly sickening.

Meanwhile, the real beneficiaries of this system are those within its administration including its council, the board and the list goes on. They have secure jobs, fixed salaries, and a steady rhythm of operations. Their performance is not measured by how many lives are changed, but by how many applications they ‘processed.’ The result is a skewed narrative: ‘10,000 applications received’ becomes a public relations victory, while only a fraction are funded—and fewer still meaningfully so.

Even for those fortunate enough to receive funding, the amount often barely scratches the surface. It is not enough to sustain, to grow, or to innovate. It is just enough to stay in the system—to try again next year, to tweak and reapply, to remain in the loop. That is not empowerment. That is entrapment.

If the government were serious about nurturing the creative sector, it would move beyond short-term gestures and invest in long-term sustainability. It would develop multi-year funding models, reward consistent impact, and build trust through transparency while also supporting new and emerging artists and organisations.

In sharp contrast stands the recent Naledi Theatre Awards —a day where the industry honoured its own. There was no extravagant funding, no government parade. And yet, it was powerful. Peer-to-peer recognition. Artists celebrating artists. Designers, technicians, producers, writers, actors, and dancers applauding each other’s resilience and excellence. It was a reminder that value does not need validation from the state. But it also underscored the failure of a government that continues to abandon the very sector it claims to support.

Instead, we are left with a system that feeds itself on the hope of others. It generates glowing reports, not genuine results. It stages the theatre of delivery, while those on the ground rehearse survival and still die.

The creative sector deserves more than statistical inclusion. We deserve honesty. We deserve fairness. We deserve to know what we are applying for before we offer our time, labour, and intellectual property to a system that too often gives nothing or very little in return.

Until that day, we must continue to speak out. To expose the illusion. To demand better—not just for ourselves, but for the generations of artists who are looking at us as failure.

.Gregory Maqoma is an internationally celebrated South African choreographer whose dance productions over the years have received critical acclaim locally and internationally.