The American Theater's Silence on Palestine
A moral failure which reveals that commitments to equity and inclusion have been superficial.
On February 24th, 2022, Russia escalated its long simmering proxy-conflict in eastern Ukraine by launching a full scale invasion, sending armored columns towards Kyiv. A week later, the Wilma Theater put out a statement of solidarity with the Ukrainian people. By the end of March, the Wilma had held a reading of a Ukrainian play about the conflict. And next month, in a co-production with Wooly Mammoth, the Wilma will stage the premiere of a new play about the war (it went up at Wooly Mammoth in September).
In April 2022, in response to the bombing of the Donetsk Drama Theater in Mariupol, New York Theater Artists for Ukraine brought together a who’s who of NY companies—HERE, BAM, The Public, The Watermill Center, Noor Theater, The National Black Theater, La MaMa, Ma-Ya, the list goes on—for an online marathon event. These are just a few of many events theaters across the country held in response to the invasion, from readings to full productions of new plays.
I’m not someone who believes that every institution or individual has an obligation to put out a statement or act in response to every conflict, crisis, or disaster. But many theater institutions took a position on the Russian invasion. Many more did so during the 2020 uprisings, where their positionality made sense, especially as they became explicitly named and were faced with anti-racist demands from groups like We See You, White American Theater.
I do believe, however, that theaters which see themselves not only as vital cultural centers, but also as civic institutions have an obligation to speak up as cultural leaders, lest they forfeit that standing. Some theaters make social justice part of their work and mission. And almost all major regional theaters, and many smaller ones, have made commitments to diversity, equity, and inclusion—or revisited their commitments thereof—following the 2020 uprisings. So far, only a handful of small organizations have made any statements on Gaza.
This is a piece about Palestine, and I mention Ukraine because it shows that many theaters believe they have a responsibility to speak up and act. That is what theaters can do when they see a moral outrage. Further comparison with Ukraine reveals the scale of the unfolding tragedy.
More civilians have died in just over two months from Israel’s bombardment of Gaza than in the entirety of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Now a terrible milestone approaches, nearly 1 out of every 100 Gazans has been killed.
Children make up nearly half the population of Gaza. By one recent estimate, as many as ten thousand have been killed. This pace easily makes it the deadliest recent conflict for children. In less than three months, Israel has killed more children in Gaza than died in over a decade of war in Afghanistan.
More than 60 journalists and media workers have been killed, many of them intentionally targeted by the Israeli Defense Force, in both Gaza and Lebanon. This is the deadliest conflict for journalists in at least 30 years (the Committee to Protect Journalists began tracking this data in 1992).
This is only the confirmed dead. Many more are wounded, many more missing, perhaps buried under rubble and never to be retrieved or identified. Many more are starving and sick under Israel’s total blockade, and the IDF has literally planted their flag in Gaza, suggesting they may never leave.
Another comparison: the NY Theater Artists for Ukraine event was at least in part a response to the bombing of a theater and killing of civilians inside it. Likewise, the cultural sector of both Gaza and the West Bank have been targeted by Israel:
The poets Dr. Refaat Alareer and Saleem Al-Naffar have been killed by the IDF. Dr. Alareer, a professor of creative writing and English literature who taught Shakespeare—Hamlet was his favorite—was targeted for assassination. Mosab Abu Toha, poet and New Yorker contributor, was detained by the IDF while fleeing northern Gaza with his family. He was released after questioning and an international outcry.
A report from the Palestinian Ministry of Culture inventories some of the damage: At least 28 artists and writers have been killed. 9 publishing houses and libraries, 21 cultural centers, including 2 theaters, and 20 historical sites, have been damaged or destroyed (read a summary or the full report).
There is perhaps one theater left undamaged in Gaza.
And our theaters say nothing.
The cultural impact is outside of Gaza, too, in both Israel and the occupied territories. In Jerusalem, a stage adaptation of Hamed Amiri’s memoir The Boy with Two Hearts was cancelled last month by the Jerusalem Khan Theater because of Amiri’s statements on social media about the war.
In the West Bank, the Freedom Theater in Jenin refugee camp has been raided, shot up, its offices destroyed and staff arrested. Producer Mustafa Sheta is still being detained by occupation forces, illegally abducted to an Israeli prison where it is believed he awaits a military court. The Freedom Theatre has long faced Israeli harassment. In 2012, then-artistic director Nabil Al-Raee, currently an artistic associate, and theater co-founder Zakaria Zubeidi were held without charge leading to a hunger strike that garnered international sympathy.
Here in the United States, we have a new kind of McCarthyism arising that targets criticism of Israel—imagining legitimate political speech as frothing anti-semitism. As this plays out in Congress and on university campuses, it is led by a Congresswoman with a record of anti-semetism herself, Elise Stefanik, and by donors attempting to police speech and shape colleges to their desires. This fall’s Palestine Writes literary festival came under attack well prior to October 7. This red line about speech about Palestine is not new, it has a long history of impacting the American theater. Most notably, the ousting of Theatre J’s long-time artistic director Ari Roth following a production of The Admission, a play about the memory of the Nakba; and New York Theater Workshop’s 2006 cancellation of My Name is Rachel Corrie, adapted from Corrie’s journals. In 2003, Corrie was killed in Gaza by an Israeli Defense Forces bulldozer. Yet this a dramatic escalation, and one American cultural institutions and workers should stand fast against.
Only a handful of American theaters have responded. Bread & Puppet Theater is, as they have been from the beginning, vocally against this war and all the long arms of imperialism. The Noor Theater, the Al Límite Collective, and National Queer Theater have made statements of support with the Palestinian people, joined the call for a cease-fire, or spoken up for Palestinian artists. These three groups yesterday supported a rally for The Freedom Theater in New York. Noor, Al Límite, and a few other groups, including The People’s Forum and an independent Chicago bookstore, have also answered a call by Ramallah’s Ashtar Theater by performing or hosting the Gaza Monologues (which is something you, too, can do).
This only scratches the surface of silence. Many American theaters have adopted land acknowledgments that call attention to and name the indigenous peoples, displaced and killed by colonization, who are the traditional stewards of the lands on which they stand and perform. Some of these, such as The Public’s, are specific, mentioning ethnic cleansing and using the term “genocide.” Yet these institutions see colonial processes playing out today and say nothing. What are these acknowledgements for? If a theater cannot speak up against on-going, brutal crimes of colonization that are being funded by its government, what moral standing does it have to speak to the colonization of its own land—to “honor” and “pay respects” to its victims? What do these theaters have to show for all the money they have spent on DEI consultants with MBAs over the last three years?
It goes on. This fall, theaters across the US proudly helped bring The Walk (and last fall in NYC), a touring public art project helmed by Palestinian theater director Amir Nizar Zuabi, to their cities. The Walk is an event where Little Amal, a 12-foot puppet of a 10-year-old Syrian refugee, walks streets and visits public squares, representing the journey of all refugees. The Philadelphia Theatre Company’s artistic directors, were thrilled by the opportunity to help create an event that aligned with their aim to make work “at the intersection of art and social justice.”
As refugee camps are being raided and bombed in Palestine, these artistic leaders are silent.
I work creatively outside the theater, too (it’s the way most of my writing has pointed the last few years). Almost every poet I know is furiously against the war. Thousands of writers, journalists, media and cultural workers, including myself, have signed the statement by Writers Against the War On Gaza, which is not the only group of writers advocating for peace. If you’re a writer or a cultural worker, I encourage you to sign. We’re probably overdue for a formation of theater artists and workers against the war. What strikes me about this is not only are theaters abdicating their moral responsibility, but how the theater is so disconnected from the broader literary community.
The American theater is demonstrating that it is not a vital cultural force, but an out-of-touch sector that pays lip service to change. It hasn’t spoken up as its workers bear witness to genocide, to the assassination of poets, and jailing of theater producers. It has not even spoken up to protect its own speech rights. Is this because theaters, like elite universities, are beholden to an even more out-of-touch donor class? But this is not the important thing. The important thing is for all artists and people of conscience to stand up against war and for peace. Theaters have yet to speak up, but that doesn’t mean they can’t.