Disruptive diversity: Exploring racial commodification in the Norwegian cultural field

Abstract

Scholars have suggested that the heightened focus on diversity in Western cultural fields may drive forms of racial commodification, impacting cultural representations of ‘race’. However, few studies apply Bourdieu's theory of cultural production to understand how racial commodification may also disrupt field dynamics. This article aims to explore how racialised minority cultural producers in Norway experience the intensified focus on diversity within the cultural field. Drawing on Bourdieu's theory of cultural production, critical diversity studies and the cultural industries approach, I analyse fieldwork and interviews with 41 Norwegian cultural producers. This analysis reveals three key diversity‐related changes participants experienced: (1) a transformation of racial identities into commodities, (2) a shift towards racial self‐commodification, and (3) a change in the value of ‘diverse stories’. The findings suggest that the increased focus on diversity encourages a form of racial commodification, with a dual impact on racialised minorities' artistic freedom. While it restricts their potential for aesthetic recognition, it also creates a platform to redefine what counts as legitimate culture. This offers insights into an under‐researched aspect of diversity efforts and racial commodification, revealing how this commodification can instigate change within the cultural field.

1. INTRODUCTION

‘[…] it’s clear that today, the word Black is trendy in media marketing and boardrooms. It’s a buzzword. Blackness has become its own niche vertical for highbrow liberals. And within that vertical, there’s a window of opportunity for Black people to tell and sell our stories. But seizing it comes at a cost’ (Sanders, 2021)

The heightened public awareness of racism following George Floyd's murder has intensified pressures to diversify various sectors, including cultural fields in the US and Europe. Sanders, an American cultural producer, suggests that this emphasis on diversity follows a commercial logic that encourages racialised minority artists to sell Black pain for white money (2021). This raises the question of whether racialised minority artists in countries that more actively shield cultural producers from commercial interests share similar experiences with diversifying efforts. Thus, I ask: How do racialised minority cultural producers in Norway's cultural field experience the intensified focus on diversity? By analysing fieldwork and in‐depth interviews with 41 cultural producers, including 9 diversity workers and 32 racialised minority artists, I identify three diversity‐related changes participants experienced in the field over the past decade. These perceived changes partly echo Sanders' account of racial commodification. I reveal how this commodification shapes the artists' careers in both negative and positive ways, potentially disrupting what counts as legitimate culture in the Norwegian cultural field.

Artists and diversity workers are key actors in the field of cultural production (Bourdieu, 1993). According to Bourdieu (1993), this field operates with relative autonomy from state and market influences, governed by a logic of cultural legitimation. Despite national variations across Western cultural fields, commercial interests increasingly challenge this principle of cultural legitimation (Friedman et al., 2017; Sapiro, 2016). Additionally, state‐supported diversity initiatives can introduce their own logics (Herring, 2017; Newsinger & Eikhof, 2020). Critical diversity studies suggest that such initiatives, instead of establishing new principles, reinforce existing racial inequalities through practices like racial commodification (Ahmed, 2012; Leong, 2013, 2021). In contrast, the cultural industries approach highlights the ambivalence of racial commodification, recognising both enabling and constraining effects (Gray, 2005; Hesmondhalgh, 2013; Saha, 2018). These studies offer crucial insights into how diversity efforts may fuel racial commodification—both reinforcing and challenging dominant representations of ‘race’—but few studies explore how these processes can also disrupt field dynamics.

This article combines Bourdieu's theory of cultural production with critical diversity studies and the cultural industries approach to explore how racialised minority cultural producers perceive the increased focus on diversity in Norway's cultural field. Through analysis of field notes and in‐depth interviews, I identify three key changes the participants experienced in relation to diversity: (1) a transformation of racial identities into commodities, (2) a shift towards racial self‐commodification, and (3) a change in the value of ‘diverse stories’—cultural products by racialised minority artists inspired by their worldviews. The increased emphasis on diversity contributed to the commodification of ‘race’ in specific ways, generating both restrictive and empowering effects on artistic freedom as artists engage in struggles over what qualifies as legitimate culture (i.e., field‐specific capital) in the cultural field. Thus, this form of commodification seems to impact both representations of ‘race’ and field dynamics (i.e., the relations between artists in the field and the struggles over field‐specific capital).

The next section outlines Bourdieu's theory of cultural production, critical diversity studies, and the cultural industries approach. I then offer a concise overview of Norwegian cultural policy, funding, and diversity initiatives to highlight the broad trends of diversity within the field. After a discussion on methods, I analyse how the increased emphasis on diversity seems to encourage forms of racial commodification, impacting both cultural portrayals of racialised minorities and field dynamics. The conclusion suggests that this focus on diversity has the potential to transform what is considered legitimate culture and discusses key theoretical implications. These findings extend beyond Norway, showing how racial commodification operates in countries with extensive state funding and a history of downplaying their colonial past (Andersson, 2018; Führer, 2021). This is crucial, as most cultural production studies on ‘race’—aside a few notable exceptions (e.g., Comaroff & Comaroff, 2009; Hammou, 2016; Skot‐Hansen, 2002)—derive from British or North American contexts (Saha, 2018).

2. THEORETICAL PERSPECTIVES

2.1. The cultural field

Bourdieu (1993) described the field of cultural production as characterised by relative autonomy from both state and market, governed by a social logic with specific rules, norms, and reward structures. Although external economic and political conditions affect the field, these often need to acquire meaning through an aesthetic rationale (Bourdieu, 1993). Moreover, Bourdieu (1993) noted that the field operates by a ‘reversed economic logic’, whereby monetary rewards can undermine artists' recognition within the field, with those achieving widespread popularity and financial success often being labelled as ‘sell‐outs’. While cultural capital, in its symbolic form, may be converted across fields into prestige, status, and money (Bourdieu, 1990, 1993), artists may nonetheless need to act in accordance with what is deemed legitimate within the field, that is, the ‘field‐specific’ cultural capital.

What is considered cultural capital is constantly contested within the cultural field, which Bourdieu (1993, 1996) described as structured by an opposition between small‐scale and large‐scale production, with actors positioned in relation to each other along these poles. Small‐scale production follows a principle of ‘art for art’s sake’, prioritising aesthetic criteria and internal recognition over financial gain; its agents claim a ‘pure’ aesthetic gaze (Alexander, 2018; Bourdieu, 1993). While this does not exclude commercial interest, openly framing art in commercial terms is discouraged within this segment. In contrast, large‐scale production follows a market logic, with agents pursuing commercial success and external validation, often at the expense of aesthetic recognition (Bourdieu, 1993). Thus, commercial interest may manifest differently across these segments. These distinct approaches to commercial interest are central to struggles over field‐specific capital and social positions (Bourdieu, 1993). Thus, it is reasonable to view the participants as involved in struggles over legitimate culture ¹ by virtue of being actors within this field.

2.2. The cultural field's logic under pressure

The structure of the cultural field is similar across Western countries (Go & Krause, 2017; Krause, 2017), with studies indicating growing commercial influence (Toepler & Zimmer, 2002). Sapiro's (2016) work shows that commercial constraints increasingly impact UK and US cultural fields, including small‐scale production. Research from the UK and Norway has found that economically privileged cultural producers tend to receive higher incomes than their counterparts, calling into question the field's logic of cultural legitimation (Friedman et al., 2017; Ljunggren, 2016a). State‐supported diversity efforts may further challenge this cultural logic by shifting recruitment principles away from possessing legitimate culture.

While few studies examine the impact of state interventions on field dynamics (Alexander, 2008, 2018), many have explored the underlying logics and consequences of diversity initiatives. These studies show that diversity initiatives are promoted for several reasons. Morally, they are believed to increase equity and social inclusion through representation (Saha & van Lente, 2022). Economically, they are said to enhance productivity (Herring, 2017; Newsinger & Eikhof, 2020). A third rationale is that these initiatives can tap into a previously underutilised pool of talent (Hansen, 2011), implying that diversity initiatives might improve the quality of cultural production by enabling recruitment based on the principle of legitimate culture. Thus, in this context, this argument may be viewed as cultural.

This cultural argument for diversity does not introduce new principles into the field but may redirect attention to how historical processes like colonialism have shaped racialised forms of legitimate culture. Researchers have shown that the Western racialised majority has monopolised a ‘universal’ aesthetic by claiming a ‘pure gaze’ that often excludes racialised minorities from aesthetic recognition (Casanova, 2007; de Jong, 1998; Huggan, 2001; Skot‐Hansen, 2002). While the cultural argument suggests that diversity initiatives should address this inequality, critical diversity studies argue that these initiatives rather act as racial governance, upholding racial hierarchies by deflecting accusations of structural racism (Ahmed, 2012; Ali & Byrne, 2023; Gray, 2013; Nwonka, 2015; Tica, 2024) or commodifying ‘race’ by infusing non‐whiteness with social value (Leong, 2013, 2021; Saha, 2018).

2.3. Diversity, racial commodification, and the potential for change

Leong (2013, 2021) argues that diversity initiatives may encourage agents in predominantly white institutions, such as the cultural field, to commodify minority identities in specific ways. This commodification essentialises racialised minority identities, reducing them to assets that can be bought and sold to accumulate economic and symbolic capital (Leong, 2013, 2021). This commodification rarely benefits racialised minorities, as the value of non‐whiteness is defined by the racialised majority and based on the benefits they reap, such as exposure to new ideas, understanding of cultures, or economic value (Leong, 2013, 2021). Thus, Leong (2013, 2021) argues for the elimination of racial commodification, which she views as the exploitation of non‐whiteness for commercial gain in a society driven by racial capitalism.

Leong's view that diversity efforts mainly result in negative forms of racial commodification is shared by other scholars (e.g., Ahmed, 2012; hooks, 1992). However, researchers within the cultural industries approach see racial commodification as more complex. While acknowledging its largely restrictive nature, they also emphasise the agency of racialised minority cultural producers (Gray, 2005; Hesmondhalgh, 2013; Swyngedouw, 2022). Studies from France, the US, and the UK depict racial commodification as a dialectical process, where racialised minority cultural producers use racial self‐commodification in varied ways to pursue cultural legitimation, which can lead to both reinforcement and contestation of dominant portrayals of ‘race’ (Balaji, 2009; Hammou, 2016; Saha, 2013). Saha (2018: 178) argues that cultural producers' ability to create challenging representations hinges on skilfully negotiating racial commodification without compromising their ethical, political, or aesthetic vision. Hesse (2000) refers to this disruptive potential as the ‘destabilising presence of multiculture’.

Building on these scholarly insights, I argue that the ambivalence of racial commodification, as encouraged by a heightened focus on diversity, can disrupt dominant cultural representations of ‘race’ and field dynamics. While such commodification may deprive racialised minority artists of aesthetic recognition by pushing them towards the market‐driven segment of the field (Bourdieu, 1993) and subjecting them to ‘segregated visibility’ (Hall, 1996, p. 471), these artists remain active agents within the cultural field. Thus, they can engage in struggles over field‐specific capital, potentially transforming legitimate culture (Jurt, 2009; Sapiro, 2014). This illustrates how external interventions, including diversity initiatives, can disrupt field dynamics (Bourdieu, 1984, 1993; Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992).

3. NORWEGIAN CULTURAL POLICY, FUNDING AND DIVERSITY INITIATIVES

European countries typically use state‐supported models to sustain the cultural field, unlike the US, where cultural funding is primarily market‐driven (Toepler & Zimmer, 2002). In line with the dominant European approach, the Norwegian state plays a dual role by limiting market influence through cultural policies while minimising state interventions via the ‘arm's length principle’ (Alexander, 2008; Vestheim, 1995). Norway ranks among the top three European countries in per capita cultural investment (Ashton et al., 2024), demonstrating extensive state funding. The Ministry of Culture and Equality ² oversees Norwegian cultural policy, while Arts and Culture Norway distributes primary subsidies to institutions, organisations, and individual artists (see Berge, 2022; Duelund, 2003; Gran & De Paoli, 2005). Alongside shielding the field from commercial interests, the government has introduced diversity initiatives to address social inequalities in cultural consumption and production (Bergsgard & Vassenden, 2015; Mangset & Hylland, 2016), thereby increasing its involvement.

Norway's cultural policy has increasingly prioritised diversity and inclusion since the 1970s due to activism from Norwegian racialised minorities (St.meld. nr. 17 (1996‐1997)). Initiatives include the Diversity Year in 2008 and the appointment of Arts and Culture Norway as the national coordinator for diversity, inclusion, and participation in the cultural sector. Financial support has been allocated to organisations promoting diversity, and arts funds aimed at combatting structural discrimination have been established (Kulturdirektoratet, 2021). While including various minorities (e.g., the Sami population, national minorities, and people with disabilities), efforts have primarily emphasised ‘ethnic diversity’, focusing on individuals racialised as non‐European or non‐white (Henningsen et al., 2010). This reflects Norway's participation in a transnational movement addressing the lack of racialised diversity in Western cultural fields (e.g., O’Brien et al., 2016; Saha, 2018).

Although these policies rarely use terms like ‘antiracism’, their focus on non‐whiteness is notable. Norway's dominant discourse has traditionally downplayed ‘race’ as a relevant category of difference, partly due to Nordic exceptionalism—the idea that Nordic countries are largely unaffected by racist ideologies, unlike the rest of Europe (Andersson, 2018; Führer, 2021). This perspective shifted following the nationwide Black Lives Matter protests in 2020, leading to greater recognition of racism in Norway (Olsson et al., 2020; Sterud et al., 2021). Nevertheless, efforts to directly address racism in cultural policies have sparked considerable debate (Aasmundsen, 2022; Hegg, 2022).

4. METHODOLOGICAL CHOICES AND REFLECTIONS

I conducted fieldwork and in‐depth interviews to explore how racialised minority cultural producers experience the increased focus on diversity in Norway's cultural field. I begin by describing the fieldwork, which facilitated some of the recruitment, and then discuss the interview process, the analytical approach, and anonymity concerns.

4.1. Fieldwork

Between 2020 and 2022, I attended about ten diversity‐related events, including a few art launches but mostly panel debates where artists and gatekeepers shared their views on diversity in the cultural field. The term ‘gatekeeper’ denotes a cultural producer in a position of power, typically a decision‐maker responsible for allocating grants or job opportunities. Observing at these events provided insights into field dynamics, particularly how diversity initiatives appeared to align with commercial logics—a perception later reinforced during my participation in a diversity‐focused course at a major cultural institution. To preserve anonymity, I cannot disclose details about the institution, course, or participants. However, I was eager to participate, as the course offered a unique opportunity to observe this institution's approach to diversity. The course, facilitated by a racialised majority employee, was open to all affiliates and focused on participant‐led discussions. After the course, I interviewed several attendees and the course leader, incorporating course‐related questions into the interview guide.

4.2. In‐depth interviews

I recruited two groups for interviews: racialised minority artists and diversity workers. Artists were selected based on their active involvement in the arts, affiliation with a cultural institution, and non‐whiteness (e.g., name, skin colour, hair type). Diversity workers held administrative roles in cultural organisations or institutions, focusing on developing and implementing diversity strategies. Some overlap exists between these groups, as certain artists engaged with diversity initiatives and funding, while some diversity workers also pursued artistic endeavours. Both groups are united as actors in the field of cultural production, influencing the formation of legitimate culture and national identity (Bourdieu, 1993; Saha, 2018). This overlap justified the broad selection criteria, especially since previous research indicates that subfields within the Norwegian cultural field operate similarly (Ljunggren, 2016b).

I employed strategic and snowball sampling, recruiting artists and diversity workers during fieldwork and by contacting those engaged in media discussions. This yielded interviews with 41 cultural producers: 32 artists and 9 diversity workers. Eight artists were interviewed twice (in 2018 and 2022), totalling 49 in‐depth interviews. The participants interviewed in 2022 discussed diversity‐related changes in the field over recent years, while the 2018 interviews enabled a comparison of their views on diversity before and after the period of heightened awareness of racism (see context section). Each interview lasted about 90 min, with written consent obtained from all participants. The semi‐structured interviews covered topics like ‘Background’, ‘Career’, ‘The Cultural Field’, ‘Diversity Policies’, and ‘Whiteness’. Participant characteristics (Table 1) indicate a diverse sample across career stages (age) and positions within the cultural field (income and art form).

TABLE 1.

The cultural producers (N = 41).

Cultural producers	Artist (N = 32)	Diversity workers (N = 9)
Women	16	7
Previously interviewed	8	0
Age
Under 30	10	1
30–50	18	3
Over 50	4	3
No answer	0	2
Yearly income
Under € 32,999	7	0
€ 33,000–€ 49,999	5	2
€ 50,000–€ 67,999	12	3
Over € 68,000	4	1
No answer	4	3
Born in Norway a	17	6
Visual arts b	10
Performing arts c	11
Literary arts d	11

^a The participants born in Norway are mostly children or grandchildren of immigrants. A few have one immigrant parent or are adopted. For those who immigrated, the median age at arrival is 6 years.

^b Including painting, drawing, sculpture, photography, filmmaking, design, and crafts.

^c Including dance, drama, theatre, and comedy.

^d Including writing fiction, drama, poetry, prose.

During data collection, participants expressed frustration with diversity policies, noting that reports and committees often failed to drive substantial change. Perceived as part of the racialised majority, I risked being viewed as a white person capitalising on diversity issues, which could discourage participation. Despite this, most cultural producers were willing to participate. While I was seen as an ‘outsider’ during the recruitment phase, this perception shifted somewhat during the interviews. My foreign‐sounding name often prompted questions about my background, allowing me to share experiences of growing up in the working class, arriving in Norway as a refugee, and being raised in a Muslim family. Being open about my background fostered trust and sometimes shifted participants' perception of me to a partial ‘insider’. This highlights how a researcher's visible and invisible traits shape different stages of the research project (Carling et al., 2014).

4.3. Analytical strategy and anonymity

I took notes during fieldwork, which I later expanded into detailed accounts (approx. 40 pages). I also transcribed the interviews and developed summaries for each. Throughout this process, I noticed many participants discussing changes in the field brought about by an increased focus on diversity. I began categorising the material into ‘consequences of diversity policies’ with sub‐categories like ‘nothing’, ‘access’, and ‘tokenism’. I also used theoretically driven categories, such as ‘commodification’, with sub‐categories ‘value of whiteness’ and ‘value of non‐whiteness’. This analysis culminated in three stories of diversity‐related change.

These narratives of change reflect the participants' perceptions and positions. Therefore, the transformations discussed in the analysis do not necessarily capture ‘true changes’ in the field (Khan & Jerolmack, 2013). However, examining how participants perceive the increased focus on diversity is crucial, as perceptions shape actions (Bottero, 2020). Alongside fieldwork, these narratives enable an analysis of the diversity focus from various perspectives (Atkinson & Coffey, 2003). Ensuring anonymity in a small field was challenging; I used gender‐neutral pseudonyms, omitted participants' ethnicities, adjusted interview excerpts, and withheld details about the diversity‐focused course and its participants. While this approach may obscure certain nuances (e.g., art form and ethnicity), it effectively preserves anonymity.

5. ANALYSIS

Through analysing the material, I identified three key diversity‐related changes participants experienced in the cultural field: (1) a transformation of racial identities into commodities, (2) a shift towards racial self‐commodification, and (3) a change in the value of ‘diverse stories’. These narratives show that cultural producers perceived the increased focus on diversity as contributing to the commodification of racial identity, while also addressing its potential consequences.

5.1. A transformation of racial identities into commodities

The participants noted that gatekeepers increasingly sought out racialised minority artists due to the heightened focus on diversity. Alex, a performance artist, exemplified this by recounting an interaction with a majority gatekeeper.

Alex: [The leader of an art institution] told me: ‘Well, now it’s trendy to hire people like you. There are brown people on TV and everywhere else for that matter’. This statement threw me a bit off. [They] added: ‘You should go to auditions. You are guaranteed to get hired. They currently prioritise foreigners.’ While I found [their comment] stupid, there’s some truth to it. It can be beneficial to be… to have a minority background. It might be… easier for bilingual artists, as productions aim to be more colourful (08.02.2022).

Both the gatekeeper and Alex indicated that non‐whiteness had acquired value with the increased focus on diversity. This trend, evident across art forms, is further underscored by Elm, a diversity practitioner, who noted that a racialised minority performer they know has become more in demand.

Elm: During [their] time in school, choreographers often said: ‘You stand out too much’. Now, the same choreographers want to work with [them]. A lot has changed in fifteen or twenty years, but there’s still much work to be done (15.08.2022).

Elm explained that non‐whiteness, once perceived negatively, is now valued positively in the field. Participants attributed this change to diversity efforts motivated by moral, economic, and cultural reasons. They highlighted the importance of representation, the economic benefits to cultural institutions, and improved production quality. However, they also conceded that the value of non‐whiteness partly depended on whether institutions could benefit from it—whether gatekeepers could transform racialised minority identities into commodities.

The gatekeepers' role in determining the value of non‐whiteness was exemplified in a diversity‐related course I observed. This course took place at an elite cultural institution influential in defining legitimate culture within the field. The course leader, who belongs to the racialised majority, developed the course to combat homogeneity and promote inclusion. The leadership supported this initiative and suggested publishing the results on their homepage to boost diverse recruitment. However, the emphasis on presenting diversity seemed to overshadow the experiences shared by racialised minorities during the course, as noted in my field notes:

In the first meeting, after a presentation on arts recruitment, the course leader invited participants to introduce themselves and discuss why recruitment to the institution favoured the white upper class. A racialised minority participant shared their experience with the institution’s recruitment process, describing how they felt misunderstood by the all‐white interview panel. They became emotional, explaining that, although the institution aimed for diversity, it lacked the competence to support minorities. The overwhelming whiteness of the staff, they argued, limited their ability to evaluate ‘diverse work’ (03.03.2022).

In subsequent meetings, other racialised minority participants shared similar experiences. They emphasised that white cultural institutions focused more on superficial diversity, using racialised minorities as tokens rather than genuinely combating racism (10.03.2022).

The focus on participants' experiences shifted near the end of the course when the course leader proposed creating ‘recruitment videos’– a suggestion met with dismay. Participants expressed reluctance, noting that they did not want to be used as ‘poster boys or girls’. After discussing alternatives, the course leader grew visibly frustrated. One of the participants suggested ending the discussion as it created a tense atmosphere in the room. Still, the course leader insisted that they needed to define the course outcome. A deafening silence followed (06.04.2022).

These observations and subsequent interviews with the course leader and participants revealed that the well‐intentioned effort inadvertently reinforced the racialised minority participants' sense of tokenism and deflected their accounts of structural racism. The proposal to produce a commercial highlighted how the value of non‐whiteness is mostly defined by the institution, which may have attempted to capitalise on racialised minorities through diversity efforts. In other words, the course encouraged the commodification of participants' racialised identities, immersing them in a particular commercial logic. This incident reflects a broader trend: participants believe institutions showcase ‘diverse bodies’ to acquire symbolic value, potentially resulting in external recognition and status.

Jordan, a performance artist, provided another example of how racialised minority identities can be commodified for symbolic value. Jordan experienced racism from the audience of a production and shared this with colleagues. A few of these colleagues then incorporated the incidents into the production without consent, which Jordan found problematic, as ‘[racism or ‘race’]’ had no relevance to the production. Tensions grew when Jordan's request to remove their experience was denied. According to Jordan, this incident partly reflected a desire to capitalise on growing societal awareness of racism to gain symbolic value.

Participants believed gatekeepers derived not only symbolic value but also monetary value by commodifying ‘race’. For instance, authors recalled being encouraged to incorporate slang in their writing because gatekeepers and potential readers found it exotic. If they complied, editors would suggest adding a ‘dictionary’ at the end of the book to make it more marketable to the racialised majority. Other artists described negotiating with PR teams to prevent the use of ‘clickbait words’ in advertisements, as they felt terms like ‘diversity’ and ‘racism’ were ‘primarily used to boost sales’. This demonstrates how racial commodification in the cultural field is partly driven by gatekeepers' focus on the racialised majority.

In summary, participants believed that non‐whiteness had gained value in the cultural field, partly due to an increased focus on diversity. However, this value seemed largely reliant on gatekeepers' ability to commodify racialised minority identities for symbolic and financial gain. The findings support the argument that diversity initiatives function as a form of racial governance through the commodification of ‘race’ (Ahmed, 2012; Gray, 2013; Hesmondhalgh, 2013; Leong, 2013, 2021; Saha, 2018). Racialised minority artists, regardless of their orientation within the field, become immersed in a particular commercial logic. However, the gatekeepers were not the only ones to benefit from this form of commodification.

5.2. A shift towards racial self‐commodification

The interviews revealed a more nuanced picture regarding the consequences of racial commodification, particularly concerning who reaps the benefits. Despite somewhat differing narrations, several participants described engaging in racial self‐commodification to facilitate entry into the field. Among them was Morgan, a visual artist.

Morgan: To some extent, I fit into the category of artists who tell a story about being a minority. I meet the expectations people have for artists with a minority background. […] If you’re interested in abstract painting from the ‘60s and avoid addressing your background, it is harder to break through. The ‘ethnic card’ offers a quicker path to exhibitions and project funding. It’s a topic I discuss often, especially with a [friend] who doesn’t incorporate their biography in their work. However, for me, it’s somewhat of a natural choice. It’s what I want to talk about because it’s part of who I am; I want to be personal and revealing in that way (03.02.2022).

Morgan explained that racial self‐commodification increased their chances of obtaining funding. However, they described their motivation to tell ‘diverse stories’ as driven by an inner desire rather than commercial incentives. Contrary to Ari, who explicitly mentioned ‘selling diversity’ as a tactic when pitching ideas to production companies.

Ari: I often bend the truth a bit to get a foot in the door. I’ve done it to sell myself—sell diversity, as well. For instance, [producers] always ask if I’ll play the lead [in shows I’m pitching]. I’d prefer just to direct, but… To sell a story easier, it works better if I pitch myself as the lead or frame it as an ‘immigrant story’ (02.02.2022).

Both Morgan and Ari incorporated their racialised identity into their work, albeit in different ways, reflecting their orientations towards different segments in the cultural field. Morgan conveyed prioritising symbolic values like legitimacy over economic success, reflecting an orientation towards the sphere of restricted production. In contrast, Ari conveyed a willingness to compromise these values in pursuit of market success, reflecting an orientation towards the sphere of large‐scale production. Despite these differences, both engaged in forms of racial self‐commodification that aided their entry into the field.

These stories illustrate how racial self‐commodification can benefit both the racialised majority and minority but do not negate its exclusionary implications. Artists encountered challenges in self‐commodifying without reinforcing stereotypes. For example, an author noted that gatekeepers favour working‐class stories from racialised minorities over narratives depicting middle‐class experiences. This underscores how gatekeepers dictate which facets of non‐whiteness are valued and, as another participant observed, when they are valued. A performance artist described a ‘one‐at‐a‐time’ mentality, suggesting that production companies believe hiring one racialised minority ‘fulfils their diversity quota’. Participants' accounts indicated diminished interest in diversification when gatekeepers saw no apparent benefit.

Beyond these limitations, Quinn highlighted a broader transnational obstacle concerning artists' capacity to redefine the value of non‐whiteness.

Quinn: [Racialised ideas] are deeply subconscious and they exist among minorities as well. They also believe that white equals better—that a white producer or a twenty‐year‐old production company is better. It’s difficult to avoid being influenced, as you internalise the racialised majority’s perspectives from a young age. There’s no guarantee that minorities will [come work in a minority company] on [their] projects. […] You internalise it. You don’t have to live in Norway to be influenced by it; people in Asia think like that too (24.01.2022).

According to Quinn, the colonial mindset permeating the cultural field made it difficult to redefine the value of non‐whiteness through racial self‐commodification. Quinn argued that younger artists associated whiteness with quality and status, potentially leading them to avoid collaboration with production companies established by racialised minorities. This highlights that the value of non‐whiteness is also tied to broader historical processes, directing focus towards how the field is intertwined with national and global histories.

This narrative illustrates how racial commodification—which participants believed was encouraged by an increased diversity focus—leads racialised minority artists across segments of the cultural field to engage in forms of racial self‐commodification. While the value of non‐whiteness was primarily defined by the racialised majority, commodification could also yield positive outcomes for racialised minorities, including improved access to the field. This finding supports studies that theorise racial commodification as an ambivalent process (Balaji, 2009; Hammou, 2016; Hesse, 2000; Saha, 2018). It also reveals that artists' orientations within the field shape how they narrate their racial self‐commodification; those oriented towards restricted production avoided descriptions of racial self‐commodification as commercially driven. The next section further explores the consequences of racial commodification and how the participants used their positions to elicit change within the field.

5.3. A change in the value of ‘diverse stories’

The previous stories highlighted how an increased focus on diversity may encourage forms of racial (self‐)commodification, immersing racialised minority artists in a particular commercial logic that pushes them towards the market‐driven segment of the field. This narrative of change suggests that this form of commodification promotes their productions as ‘exotic stories’, depriving them of aesthetic recognition. However, participants, as actors in the cultural field, were also involved in struggles over what should count as legitimate culture, potentially altering the value of diverse stories and driving change in the field.

Several participants emphasised that racial (self‐)commodification, which also entailed marketing their productions as ‘exotic stories’, led to a lack of aesthetic recognition. Parker, an author, reflected on how this form of racialised commodification initially made them avoid incorporating their racial minority background into their work.

Parker: [At the writing school] I remember saying, ‘I’m not going to write the next immigrant novel’. It’s unfortunate I don’t remember the context, but I reacted to something someone said. Now I think, ‘Maybe I should write the next immigrant novel’. Just if we can stop calling it that—then I’d be happy to do it (20.01.2022).

Parker described how the racial commodification of artists' productions as ‘exotic stories’ or ‘immigrant novels’ led them to avoid incorporating their racial minority background into their work. This form of commodification lacks value within the field and may hinder the artists' chances of attaining aesthetic recognition—a form of recognition Parker likely seeks given their initial reluctance to tell ‘diverse stories’. In Bourdieu's terms (1993), this form of racial commodification is not framed through an aesthetic rationale, so the work is not seen as an expression of field‐specific capital. However, most participants did not shy away from telling ‘diverse stories’ while seeking recognition from within the field; instead, they actively negotiated the value of such stories.

Parker and other participants actively contested the ‘universal aesthetics’ embedded in field‐specific capital by advocating for the inclusion of ‘diverse stories’ as legitimate culture. For instance, several racialised minority artists called for the appointment of racialised minorities to positions of power and highlighted the inadequate consecration of racialised minority artists. This demonstrates how participants engaged in struggles over field‐specific capital after gaining entry. The impact of these efforts was already visible in the Norwegian cultural field, as reflected in the changing views on ‘diverse stories’ among participants I interviewed twice.

Most participants interviewed in 2018 were reluctant to incorporate their racialised identities into their work, indicating an unwillingness to expose themselves to racial commodification. However, by 2022, some had altered their stance. Among them was Billie, a visual artist.

Billie: Last year, not a single movie was produced with a screenwriter or director with a foreign background. When I say foreign background, I mean a minority background. I’ve never used that term before the last few years, but I understand that using it increases my chances of making movies, so I want to take advantage of that opportunity.

Interviewer: I find it interesting that you now want to tell ‘diverse stories’, considering you were clear about not pursuing that direction last time we spoke.

Billie: Yes, I know. After talking to you last time, doing several projects, and getting to know more what I like and what I stand for, I’ve realised that much of what I create… What I am good at is diversity, without telling stories of forced marriage and things like that (12.05.2022).

Billie was now open to creating ‘diverse stories’, provided they did not perpetuate stereotypes about racialised minorities (e.g., forced marriages). Billie also noted that there were now more opportunities to create ‘diverse stories’ that challenged stereotypical portrayals of ‘race’. Devin, an author, added that this development was linked to a heightened awareness of racism in Norwegian society.

Devin: Ten years ago, I couldn’t have written a book where someone faced racism by ordinary people and be believed; it wouldn’t have been seen as credible. This obviously makes it challenging to write books about racialised minorities.

Interviewer: Can you elaborate on BLM’s impact on art and literature?

Devin: BLM has educated the public, raising awareness that the world is not colour‐blind and that the experiences of [racialised minorities] differ from those of the [racialised majority]. Most people now accept that racism exists, making it easier to address these issues in literature without being perceived as political (07.02.2022).

Devin noted a shift in the perception of ‘diverse stories’ from being viewed as politically motivated and primarily commercial to being recognised as aesthetic productions. This change appears to be supported by the increased focus on diversity among cultural producers, artists' efforts to redefine field‐specific capital, and the BLM movement following Floyd's death. Morgan also acknowledged the BLM movement's impact but offered a different interpretation.

Morgan: When I won [an industry prize], only one person called me [an artist with a minority background]. No producers thought, ‘Oh yes! Let’s involve [them] in a script or hire [them] for a TV show; they have proven to be talented’. But now, after BLM and all the discussions about racism, as well as [my last production], one of the most commercial producers calls and says, ‘Hey, [we’re] looking for projects with minority perspectives'. Why? Because they understand that it works and can receive funding (03.02.2022).

While Devin underscored the BLM movement's role in recognising ‘diverse stories’ as legitimate culture, Morgan believed the movement served as additional motivation for gatekeepers to profit symbolically and economically from diversity. According to Morgan, receiving field recognition through an award did not translate into inclusion among cultural producers who distance themselves from market logic. Instead, commercial producers were increasingly interested in commodifying ‘race’ post‐BLM. This suggests that struggles over field‐specific capital are ongoing despite some apparent shifts, echoing Elm's argument that much work remains to be done.

This final narrative of diversity‐related change experienced by participants shows that, while diversity initiatives may encourage racial (self‐)commodification—depriving artists' work of aesthetic recognition—participants engaged in struggles over field‐specific capital to escape the particular commercial logic they had become immersed in. The increased acknowledgement of ‘diverse stories’ as legitimate culture suggests that external interventions may alter field dynamics (Bourdieu, 1996; Jurt, 2009; Sapiro, 2014), particularly by challenging the racialised majority producers' perceptions of ‘universal aesthetics’ (Casanova, 2007; Huggan, 2001; Skot‐Hansen, 2002). Despite encouraging racial (self‐)commodification, the increased focus on diversity may yield certain positive outcomes in the field.

6. CONCLUSION

Research shows that the increased focus on diversity in Western cultural fields can lead to forms of racial commodification, affecting dominant representations of ‘race’. However, little is known about how racial commodification may disrupt field dynamics—the relationships between artists and what counts as legitimate culture. Therefore, this article combines Bourdieu's (1993) theory of cultural production with insights from critical diversity studies and the cultural industry approach to investigate how racialised minority cultural producers experience the increased focus on diversity in Norway's cultural field. My analysis of fieldwork and interviews with 41 Norwegian cultural producers revealed three key diversity‐related changes participants experienced in the field: (1) a transformation of racial identities into commodities, (2) a shift towards racial self‐commodification, and (3) a change in the value of ‘diverse stories’.

These narratives illustrate that an increased focus on diversity can act as a form of racial governance in the cultural field by promoting forms of racial commodification. Racialised minority artists, regardless of their orientations within the field, became immersed in a particular commercial logic. This form of racial (self‐)commodification seemed to have a dual impact on participants' artistic freedom: it restricted their potential for aesthetic recognition by pushing them towards the market‐driven segment, while also providing a pathway into the field. Moreover, the artists leveraged their positions in the field to redefine legitimate culture. Thus, this study demonstrates how external influences, like diversity initiatives, can disrupt the dynamics within the cultural field.

The findings have several theoretical implications. First, they enhance Bourdieu's (1993) theory of cultural production by suggesting that both restricted and large‐scale production segments are increasingly influenced by commercial logic (Friedman et al., 2017; Ljungren, 2016; Sapiro, 2016). They also reveal that artists oriented towards different segments narrate their racial self‐commodification in distinct ways, indicating that these pressures manifest differently across segments. Second, the findings align with cultural industries approaches that depict racial commodification as ambivalent, with both constraining and transformative potential (Balaji, 2009; Gray, 2005; Hammou, 2016; Hesmondhalgh, 2013; Saha, 2018). This study adds to this literature, suggesting that racial commodification, driven by a heightened focus on diversity, may challenge hegemonic representations of ‘race’ and disrupt field dynamics. While participants' racial (self‐)commodification was mostly constraining, they re‐negotiated what is considered field‐specific capital. This mirrors Hesse's (2000) notion of ‘destabilising multiculturalism’ and underscores that the cultural field is receptive to change (Jurt, 2009; Sapiro, 2014). The findings imply a gradual integration of ‘diverse bodies’ and ‘diverse stories’ into the cultural field and, by extension, into the ‘imagined Norwegian community’.

The study holds broader significance by showing how racial commodification occurs in a country with extensive state funding for the arts and a history of downplaying its colonial past (Andersson, 2018; Führer, 2021). It reveals how historical processes like colonialism are deeply intertwined with cultural fields across nations, albeit in distinct ways. While substantial economic resources are invested in diversifying Western cultural fields, policies should also develop initiatives that manage diversity within cultural institutions, ensuring the value of non‐whiteness is not defined by the racialised majority. This would help prevent diversity efforts from imposing costs on racialised minorities, as suggested by Sanders in the introduction.

Future research should explore variations in the experience of racial commodification among racialised minority artists, considering Hall's (1996) argument that the ‘racial category’ may obscure important differences among artists, specifically regarding ‘new ethnicities’. While some studies have addressed this (e.g., Comaroff & Comaroff, 2009; Swyngedouw, 2022), there is need to expand on this work to other national contexts. It is also important to investigate potential generational differences in the experiences of racial commodification as discourses on diversity have evolved over time. These areas of study will provide valuable insights into how commodification uniquely affects different racialised minority artists at different points in time, thereby advancing the theorisation of racial commodification.

CONFLICT OF INTEREST STATEMENT

The author declares no conflict of interest.

ETHICS STATEMENT

The project is approved by The Norwegian Centre for Research Data and has been conducted in accordance with Norwegian and international research regulations.

Tica, S. (2025). Disruptive diversity: Exploring racial commodification in the Norwegian cultural field. The British Journal of Sociology, 76(2), 407–422. 10.1111/1468-4446.13178

DATA AVAILABILITY STATEMENT

Due to ethical requirements, data sharing is not available. The participants did not give written consent for their data to be publicly shared.