Political censorship in theatre has gone too far – especially on Palestinian art. Here's why

Last February, the Arts Council England (ACE) updated their guideline policies to warn organisations that employees making ‘political statements’ could breach funding agreements by causing “reputational risk”. Only a year before they had invited work that openly supported the Ukraine. What had changed? Palestine.

Political statements in support of Palestinian human rights were considered dangerous. Plays, events, readings and exhibitions with content about Palestine were cancelled. Some were silenced, and some were afraid to speak.

Due to uproar, ACE then backtracked. But the damage had been done. And to be fair, they weren’t telling us anything we didn’t already know. It had already got to the point where organisations are so averse to risk, that if you pitch a political play to a theatre and they agree readily to programme it, you truly have to wonder if your idea is going to have any true impact. 

And it’s not just about funding concerns. More and more we’re seeing venues become so nervous about offending people and generating backlash that political censorship in theatre has begun to make headlines – from Manchester’s Royal Exchange cancelling A Midsummer Night’s Dream due to concerns about how it covered issues around Palestine to playwright Patrick Marber having his venue rescind an offer to host his play What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank for fear of inciting protests.

I wanted to respond in the only way I knew how. Theatre. So, I commissioned 11 playwrights to respond to the warning that they should be wary of being political with some short political plays in defiance.

All these plays were performed together as a collection every single night and followed by panel discussions with guest speakers who widened the conversation about threats to freedom of expression in society out beyond the arts.

This pilot run sold out in the blink of an eye, proving that there is a demand and a need for this work. Especially from Global Majority audiences. And platforming these voices is really making a difference.

All of these things supposedly hit the criteria to secure Arts Council funding – ticking all of their boxes.

We are now returning to the Arcola Theatre’s larger space. Cutting the Tightrope: The Divorce of Politics from Art brings together 14 diverse, award-winning playwrights with a wide range of political perspectives, in a powerful response to current political and societal issues, from activists to comedians, Russian to Iraqi heritage, and Jewish to Muslim backgrounds – but unsurprisingly didn’t get ACE funding.

After decades of directing political theatre, this feels like the most meaningful, important and vital piece of work I’ve ever done – there is a real fear of blacklisting which means that although playwrights are billed, we have chosen to keep who wrote which play unknown. We hope that panels as well as free workshops focused on mobilisation of audience members will mean more people become aware of the creeping infringement of their rights across UK society.

We will not go quietly. Hear our writers speak.

Introduction by Cressida Brown, director of Cutting the Tightrope.

Joel Samuels, British Jewish playwright, actor and co-Artistic Director of Bet’n Lev Theatre:

There’s a reluctance deep within me as I write. Is it necessary to centre my identity in a short statement on theatrical censorship? Unfortunately, my hand has been forced. I’m a socialist, an antizionist and a proud, secular, British Jew and my voice is both needed more than ever whilst being fundamentally ignored.

In 2016 I spent time in Hebron in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. I bore witness to some depraved, vicious and criminal actions. Children arrested, babies teargassed, young men maimed, settlers slaughtering a family cat to force a Palestinian family to leave their historic home. Perhaps worst of all was an Israeli man in his 20s dropkicking a seven-year-old Palestinian boy off his bicycle. Myself and others rushed over as the boy screamed out and the man went to kick him again. As we reached them and got between boy and man, the army wandered over. A short conversation in Hebrew and the man was led away, a friendly arm round his shoulder. I tried to comfort the boy but was pushed away and threatened by a soldier. I could do nothing as they arrested him and took him away; still weeping.

When I came home, I wanted to tell that boy’s story, to immortalise this small moment of violence as a microcosm of a world that, as we have all seen, was surely due to explode.

No theatre would touch it. “Where is the balance?” “It’s a true story, how can I balance it?” “Audiences won’t believe it.” “But it’s true.” “Could we maybe suggest that the boy had done something? That there was a reason for his arrest? That way we wouldn’t be seen to be taking sides.” “He was seven. What could he have done? And what sides are you talking about?” Or worst of all: “We cannot be seen to be antisemitic.”

When the Royal Court put on a production called Jews in Their Own Words the author wrote an article stating he wouldn’t be interviewing pro-Corbyn Jews as there was “no need to repeat that mistake”. Thinking of that article, I’m incredibly thankful to the producers of Cutting the Tightrope that I have been able to make a short play about my lack of a voice in the arts. Maybe one day I’ll be able to tell that boy’s story. Maybe after the last year people will be able to believe it.

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Sonali Bhattacharyya, playwright and screenwriter:

This gruelling year of attempted genocide against the Palestinians, an escalation of the violence and dispossession they have suffered for over 76 years since the ‘Nakba’, or catastrophe, has seen British art and culture venues such as the Royal Academy of Arts, HOME Manchester, Manchester Royal Exchange, Chickenshed Theatre and Bristol’s Arnolfini engage in the shameful censorship of Palestinian artists and their allies. 

We have witnessed the deaths of an estimated 186,000 or more Palestinians, directly or indirectly attributable to Israel’s genocide with further military attacks against civilians in Lebanon, Yemen and Syria by the Israeli army. Alongside this we are also witnessing attempted cultural genocide, with documented attacks by Israel on over 200 cultural and historical sites, including educational facilities, press headquarters, journalists, heritage sites, places of worship, cultural centres, and the complete destruction of the Central Archives in Gaza City. Over 340 mosques and at least three churches have been damaged or destroyed, including the 700-year Great Omari Mosque and St Porphyrius Church, one of the oldest in the world. At least 16 cemeteries have been desecrated or destroyed.

Our colleagues in Palestine are facing daily violence and intimidation, such as Mustafa Sheta, producer at Freedom Theatre Jenin, who remains in Israeli military administrative detention without charge or trial, along with over 3,300 other Palestinians. Many Palestinian artists and writers have been murdered by the Israeli Army, including poet and novelist Hebu Abu Nada, poet Shahdah Al-Buhbahan, poet, writer and professor Refaat Alareer, 15-year-old violin prodigy Lubna Mahmoud Alian and Bilal Jadallah, known as “the godfather of Palestinian journalism”. 

As a culture worker, I view censorship here and across the West as working hand in hand with the attempted erasure of Palestinian life, art and culture by Israel.

Sami Abu-Wardeh, award-winning Palestinian playwright and comedian:

The cancellation of work in the last 13 months has been shocking to many, but we are artists, and they are institutions. Institutions wane and often rot. The art, however, lives on. Our stories will outlive the bricks, mortar and cowardice of the quisling theatres and governments under whose rule they were written. 

Art courts irreverence, and as creators we have nothing to fear (aside from bankruptcy). Although Britain is still one of the better western European countries in which to make anti-fascist work, the ruling regime is typically conservative, and the recent turn by Arts Council England is in keeping with this. The Britain of child labourers, colonisers, concentration camps and forced displacement is the Britain that compulsively sticks its fat, turgid fingers into the punch, swirling it around in full view of all the guests, petulantly reminding us of its access to power.

By signposting what they don’t want us to say, they have given us a big red button to press. Here, the power truly is with the people, and we must continue to give life to anti-fascist, anti-colonial narratives. The facade of postwar liberal democracy’s monopoly on morality is sliding away before our eyes – a debagged prefect, embarrassed and trying to hide its shame.

Cutting the Tightrope: The Divorce of Politics from Art is at the Arcola Theatre, London, until 7 December.

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