The cooperative movement at the service of social medicine
For decades, the figure of the artist has been sold under the myth of the ‘solitary genius’: the creator who, from their studio or stage, fights against the world for their work to be recognised. However, behind the scenes, the reality is often less romantic. Precariousness, lack of social protection and dependence on intermediaries have been the common denominator in the creative industries. Until now.
Today we are witnessing a silent but unstoppable transformation. Fed up with the rules of a market that prioritises profit over expression, thousands of creators have decided that the best way to protect their talent is by sharing it. It is not just about making art, but about managing art. The rebellion of collective management is born.
Cultural cooperativism is not a utopia; it is a pragmatic response to a system that often ignores the needs of intermittent workers. In a cultural cooperative, the photographer, musician, actor and designer cease to be individual pieces and become co-owners of a legal structure that gives them strength.
Why is this a rebellion? Because it breaks the traditional hierarchy. Here, power does not lie with the shareholder who puts up the money, but with the creator who puts in the work. The principle of ‘one person, one vote’ returns sovereignty to those who actually generate cultural content.
To understand this movement, we need to look at examples that are already changing the rules of the game, such as Smart (Belgium and Spain), perhaps the most robust example in Europe. It functions as a mutual support network that allows artists to legally invoice their work, guaranteeing them access to social security and administrative management that would be unaffordable on an individual basis. In this way, they have turned bureaucracy into a tool for protection.
Another notable case is that of Cine Ciutat (Mallorca); when market forces dictated that arthouse cinema was no longer profitable, citizens and workers rebelled, forming a cooperative to save the cinemas, and today it is the community itself that decides what is screened, demonstrating that the public does not want to be mere consumers, but active agents.
For their part, with Orsai (Argentina), Hernán Casciari and his community demonstrated that it is possible to produce literature, cinema and journalism of the highest quality without advertising or big labels behind them. Their reader-funded model is proof that when talent is managed directly with the community, intermediaries are unnecessary.
This rebellion is not just about numbers or contracts; it is about values. By managing their own talent, artists can afford something that the traditional market often prohibits: ethical freedom. They can choose projects with social impact, they can guarantee decent wages for their technicians, and they can ensure that intellectual property remains in the hands of those who created it.
Over the past decade, the tech industry has experienced unprecedented growth, but has also faced structural challenges regarding talent retention and ethical data management. In this context, a centuries-old model is emerging as the most innovative solution for 21st-century challenges: platform cooperativism.
While big tech companies carry out waves of mass layoffs despite reporting record profits, a silent movement is redefining the rules of the game in the digital sector. Tech cooperatives propose something radical in Silicon Valley culture: that workers own what they build.