I’ve never been an arts manager, nor have I ever had any desire to be one. I’ve never thought that being CEO (or even general manager) of an orchestra sounded like anywhere near as much fun as playing in one. And while there have been times that I’ve wished I had more of a say in how things were (or weren’t) being done in the upper ranks of the organizations I’ve worked for, I usually find myself quite grateful that someone else has to make almost all of the tough decisions for me.

Times like this, when the economy is sputtering and spitting while trying to decide whether it’s ready to overcome its yearlong tubercular coughing fit, offer up near-daily reminders of how hard the jobs of those running U.S. arts organizations truly are. And lately, as I’ve waded through the reams of news stories of the latest cuts, layoffs, and salary givebacks across the industry, I’ve begun to notice a new trend among those who analyze such data for a living. It’s a wave of stories that could all be headlined, You Must Make Hard Choices (But Wait, Stop! You Can’t Cut That!!!)

Basically, the formula for each of these stories is that a) everyone knows times are tough and painful cuts are necessary for arts organizations to survive, but b) arts organizations are notorious for underspending on Area X at even the best of times, and therefore c) arts groups will be dooming themselves to an even deeper and longer recession if they don’t immediately start spending more on Area X.

Generally, articles that follow this basic formula are written by extremely knowledgeable people with long experience in the field. Michael Kaiser, the president of Washington, D.C.’s Kennedy Center and one of the widely accepted sages of arts management in the U.S., has been trotting around the country warning arts groups not to play it too safe at a time like this, and making the case that what people really want from us in a deep recession is more art, more content, and more daring programming, not less.

And just this past week, a fascinating analysis out of Stanford University suggested that the real problem with our spending priorities in the arts is that, because we’re so focused on the creative side of the ledger, we perennially underfund our own infrastructure (everything from up-to-date computer equipment to the desks and chairs in our offices,) which makes it impossible for the office workers who keep us afloat to do their jobs properly. In a fiscal crisis, such infrastructure funding typically sees the deepest cuts and the longest road back from the brink, mainly because it’s easier to woo donors with a pitch that involves a renovated theater or a new education program than with an office upgrade to Windows Vista.

Despite the fact that both Kaiser and Stanford are almost inarguably correct in their assessments, there’s no shortage of “Yeah, but…” responses available. Some would point out that it’s fairly easy for Michael Kaiser to espouse daring programming ideas from his perch atop one of the richest and most securely funded arts organizations in the world. (The Kennedy Center is a jewel in political Washington’s crown, and as close to untouchable as an arts group gets.) And while the Stanford folks are correct up to a point, most arts managers would say that the cost of putting on a shoddy, underfunded show that the public can see is far higher in the long run than the cost of forcing those behind the scenes to make do for a while with outdated software and tiny, unpleasant office space.

And then there is that uncomfortable bottom line: when you’re in charge of going out and finding money for the arts group you believe so deeply in, you can’t just go and explain all this to each of your potential donors. Because let’s be honest: with the exception of a few truly devoted individuals, your donors don’t want to hear about all the tricky little Catch-22s you’re faced with every time the Dow drops a few hundred points. They’re happy to support you to the best of their personal fiscal ability, and most of them will take at least some interest in the overall health of the organization, but figuring out the most responsible place for each dime you take in? That’s just not their job. It’s… gulp… yours.

Over the last decade or two, musicians have been getting steadily more involved in how the orchestras we play in are managed, with mixed results. I’m in favor of that trend, generally, if only because I think the increased communication that results increases the likelihood that we and our staff and our board members will be forced to at least occasionally consider how the organization looks from somewhere other than where we normally sit.

But like I say, someone has to make the truly tough calls at the end of the day. And while I may not always like the calls that are made, I’m always impressed with those who are bold enough to make them, knowing that their jobs and the jobs of everyone under them could be on the line if they get it wrong. That’s not a job I could ever do, any more than they could do mine. It’s a tough thing to remember sometimes, but an important one for all of us in this leaky boat called The Arts.