Over the weekend, I read in Postimees (link in Estonian) about how state agencies are saving money by cutting services to the most vulnerable — ending language classes for refugees, for example, and eliminating access to free legal aid.

In and of itself, this logic is understandable. Of course, decision-makers, whether officials or politicians, prefer not to antagonize powerful and vocal groups when making cuts. There's a reason for the saying "like taking candy from a baby." Try taking that candy from a large business owner and you'll quickly hear how unfair profit taxes or environmental regulations are, not just for the poor businessperson, but for society as a whole.

At the state budget level, it's also those with the weakest voices who end up empty-handed. I'm referring to a long-standing issue: the ongoing cuts to cultural funding and the continued neglect of freelance artists. Fortunately, Estonian cultural figures aren't afraid to speak up, but the more they do, the more it seems that everyone who might listen has soundproofed their ears.

Meanwhile, so-called simple and rational solutions continue to gain traction in public discourse, usually from people whose expertise lies in entirely different fields.

One oft-repeated claim has become something of a classic: "There's too much culture in Estonia." Never mind the fact that a large portion of cultural funding here goes toward infrastructure, not creative work. No one wants to ban people from making art or reflecting on it — yet if they could, some would probably shut down a gallery or two. But that line of thinking is futile. It's like in a workplace when someone is laid off due to budget cuts: the others don't usually get higher salaries, they just end up with more responsibilities. The same would likely happen with cultural institutions. The state budget would shrink by one (then another and a third) line item, but the savings wouldn't be redirected to those who remain.

There's also been plenty of public discussion about the self-generated income of cultural institutions. It's true that they need to earn revenue, but not at the cost of accessibility. Recently, an economic analyst wrote on social media that he'd seen many wealthy people at the theater, from which he concluded there's plenty of room to raise ticket prices. Without meaning to insult the economist, that logic is as flawed as going to a restaurant, seeing mostly rich people eating there and deciding the food must be too cheap. In reality, seeing wealthy people at the theater likely means ticket prices are already so high that only the well-off can afford them.

Those advocating for higher ticket prices as a way to balance supply and demand are forgetting a simple fact: most theaters are already subsidized by all taxpayers, including those for whom €40–50 tickets are simply unaffordable. That includes people earning so little that they won't benefit at all from next year's elimination of the income tax hump.

This situation is embarrassing and far from any notion of social justice, which should, in theory, be the glue and foundation of Estonian society. From the tone of public debate, the biggest problem with theater tickets seems to be that the wealthy can't access their preferred shows quickly or comfortably enough. And the proposed solution? Extremely high ticket prices. Not accepting that everyone should have to queue — digitally or otherwise — on equal footing.

Another idea that's been gaining traction is that the cultural sector's minimum wage should be scrapped, with salaries left entirely up to the discretion of each institution's director. I'm fairly certain that increasing the so-called "differentiation fund" won't raise the total salary budget — it will just widen pay disparities within teams. Sure, it's great to reward talent financially, but there's a risk that cultural institutions will fall into the same trap as budget grocery chains: they'll put a fancy bottle of wine or a hard-to-pronounce French cheese on the shelf to boost their image, while offering little else of quality.

It also raises the question of how, in collective art forms like theater or music where every note and every line matters, you're supposed to single out the "stars." A wage floor must remain. Just as a band doesn't stay upright on the drummer's solos alone, culture thrives on teamwork and solidarity.

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