{"id":822,"date":"2024-11-15T20:59:41","date_gmt":"2024-11-15T20:59:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/30\/?p=822"},"modified":"2026-05-21T18:37:09","modified_gmt":"2026-05-21T18:37:09","slug":"theatrical-creation-and-public-debate-in-the-era-of-cancel-culture","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/30\/theatrical-creation-and-public-debate-in-the-era-of-cancel-culture\/","title":{"rendered":"Theatrical Creation and Public Debate in the Era of Cancel Culture<\/em>"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Ioanna Lioutsia<\/strong>*<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Abstract<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

This article explores the influence of cancel culture in theatre, comparing the phenomenon to the opaque power dynamics depicted in Franz Kafka\u2019s work. It investigates how modern pressures for political correctness and the aggressive tactics of online activism mimic Kafka\u2019s invisible court, imposing a form of control that may threaten both theatrical creation and democratic public debate. By highlighting examples from contemporary theatre and historical literature, the article argues for the necessity of maintaining open dialogue and critical reflection on artistic works, advocating that such practices are essential for preserving the integrity and educational potential of theatre in society.

Keywords:<\/strong> cancel culture, political correctness, theatre, public debate, Franz Kafka<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As George Orwell writes in his book 1984<\/em>, published in 1949,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 2050, earlier, probably\u2014all real knowledge of Oldspeak will have disappeared. The whole literature of the past will have been destroyed. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron\u2014they will exist only in Newspeak versions, not merely changed into something different, but changed into something contradictory of what they used to be. (68)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 2024, Orwell’s words no longer feel like a far-off science fiction scenario. In many cultural sectors, polemics are opened against well-established writers, some of whom are even included in the shortlist Orwell cites.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The phenomenon of \u201ccancel culture,\u201d which drives many of these polemics, exemplifies the kind of opaque power dynamics Kafka portrayed in works like The Trial<\/em>. Reminiscing Joseph K.\u2019s encounter with an inscrutable authority, the term itself has undergone a Kafkaesque transformation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Originating in African American vernacular as a tool for marginalised communities to exercise agency against oppression, it is now often used as a slur, often by conservatives and the Far Right. In between its origin and pejoration, cancel culture was appropriated by liberal institutions and cultural elites who repurposed it as an instrument of authority while claiming to advocate for those same marginalised groups. This appropriation, which transformed a grassroots form of resistance into a mechanism of institutional power, mirrors the bureaucratic transformations Kafka depicted, where power becomes simultaneously more diffuse and more absolute. Terms like \u201cwoke\u201d and \u201cpolitically correct\u201d have followed similar trajectories, creating a contemporary cultural apparatus that, like the court in The Trial<\/em>, exercises power through processes that are both ubiquitous and obscure (al-Gharbi; Garc\u00e9s-Conejos Blitvich; Hughes).<\/p>\n\n\n

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First U.K. edition of Kafka\u2019s The Trial<\/a><\/em>, 1937<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

While cancel culture is often dismissed as a right-wing talking point, it could be argued that it represents a more complex phenomenon that challenges Left-Right political divisions and requires nuanced analysis (see \u00d6zkirimli). This is all the more so because it is often discussed how cancel culture functions as a bogeyman for some on the Right, but what may not receive similar attention is how attempts to critically engage with it tend to be tackled with strawman arguments by some on the Centre or the Left. One of the main strawman tactics is precisely to associate with the Far Right even one\u2019s attempt to reflect on the mechanisms and effects of cancel culture.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Many are likely aware of the ongoing efforts in colleges and universities worldwide to discontinue the teaching of William Shakespeare\u2019s works due to concerns over his perceived racism and sexism by modern standards. You may have even encountered or supported such initiatives yourself (see, for example, Lichtenberg; Karim-Cooper; Murray; Pengelly). Mark Twain faces similar criticism, with some attempting to relegate him to obscurity despite his progressive messages advocating for social change and the liberation of oppressed African Americans during the Civil War. His use of the term \u201cNegroes\/Niggers,\u201d though consistent with the language of his time, is now viewed as offensive by contemporary standards (Kovalik 196\u201399).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another typical case is that of children\u2019s favourite, Roald Dahl, whose books were republished with linguistic changes that soften the content mainly by eliminating the negative characteristics of the heroes, for instance deleting words like \u201cugly\u201d and replacing others such as \u201cfat\u201d into theoretically more harmless ones like \u201cenormous,\u201d with the intent of aligning with modern sensibilities (Vernon). In addition, in cinematographic and theatrical adaptations of his books, features that would allow us to understand a not-so-distant past and develop our reflexes in the present are erased as offensive. One salient example is the transformation of the Oompa-Loompas from slaves to \u201cvolunteers paid with cocoa beans\u201d in the text or their transformation to puppet people on stage (Cantrell and Burton; Eplett; Lohmann; Corbin). Instead of becoming an opportunity to raise awareness of the practices and discourses of colonialism and slavery, and of the ways in which they have been normalised in particular sociopolitical contexts, this disturbing aspect of the text is simply redacted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While efforts to diversify curricula are not new\u2014the 1980s saw significant movements to expand beyond the traditional Western canon\u2014today\u2019s attempts differ crucially in their approach. Where previous movements sought to add diverse voices and perspectives, current initiatives often advocate for removal or alteration of established texts based on present-day moral judgments. This shift from an additive, inclusive approach to an eliminative, censorious one reflects a fundamental change in how cultural institutions approach problematic content. Rather than using these texts as opportunities for critical engagement with historical attitudes and their evolution, the current trend risks erasing important opportunities for understanding how prejudices have been normalised and challenged throughout history.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This eliminative approach exemplifies how creators, both dead and alive, face a rather invisible court where a peculiar trial is taking place, like the one experienced by Joseph K. in Franz Kafka\u2019s novel. From one day to the next, they not only become the target of cancellation campaigns, but the living are also exhorted to cancel others, both living and dead. This process is marked by opacity and a lack of formal recourse, echoing Kafka\u2019s depiction of a bewildering, arbitrary system of control.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cancel Culture and Social Media<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

The biggest issue I see with the growing prevalence of cancel culture in the arts, including theatre, lies in how it operates and reshapes public discourse. Cancel culture, often linked to wokeness and liberalism, exerts its influence mainly through online social networks. These platforms are potent in reach but seldom facilitate fruitful discussion. They may bring awareness to critical issues and, sometimes, inform large audiences about topics legacy media do not cover. As such, they are indeed instruments for democracy, providing space for marginalised voices to be heard, enabling mobilisation around social issues and challenging established power structures in ways that traditional media channels often fail to do. However, even some scholarly approaches that view cancel culture positively acknowledge the negative impact that the constraints and inherent dynamics of these platforms have on the social justice issues they purport to support (Bouvier; Bouvier and Machin).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The very architecture of these platforms works against meaningful dialogue. Their algorithms are explicitly designed to promote provocative content and extreme reactions, fulfilling their primary purpose of generating revenue through user engagement. The more inflammatory the content, the more interaction it receives, creating a self-reinforcing cycle that benefits platform owners while degrading public discourse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Performativity, such as showcasing one\u2019s morality or criticizing others\u2019 immorality, is a key feature of social media, focused as they are on creating and curating one\u2019s digital profile. Moreover, these platforms seldom provide space for meaningful dialogue, reducing complex discussions to shallow exchanges that emphasize brevity and impact over depth. For example, the former Twitter<\/em>, now rebranded as X<\/em>, imposes strict character limits (though not as much as before), whereas Instagram<\/em> is primarily focused on images and sound bites. These attributes of social media platforms contribute primarily to the calling out of putative transgressions (Powell qtd. in Kovalik 21). This context does not easily allow for any reservations, doubts and nuanced opinions to be expressed, nor does it foster rational arguments and public debate. Social media have rather transformed traditional forms of public shaming into more visible and permanent forms of ostracism (\u00d6zkirimli).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Social media platforms may serve as contemporary versions of Kafka\u2019s courts for another reason that is related but not identical to cancel culture: they are seemingly accessible to all, yet governed by inscrutable rules, invisible authorities and often arbitrary mechanisms that seem to have a life of their own. Like the various offices and chambers Joseph K. must go to in The Trial<\/em>, each platform has particular (but, not rarely, shifting) governance structures, content moderation policies and algorithmic judgments that users may at times struggle to comprehend in vain. Problematic in terms of accountability and transparency, social media management and automation is increasingly resulting in post takedowns, shadow banning or outright de-platforming, often without any real recourse for the targets.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like the public spaces in The Trial<\/em>, where K.\u2019s shame becomes visible to all, these platforms also serve as the stage of cancel culture, with accusation and judgment playing out before an audience of unknown size and composition. The accused face not just their direct accusers but an ever-expanding network of observers who can amplify, interpret and perpetuate the judgment. It is understandable why this has been a tool for underprivileged communities that do not have institutional power on their side. However, especially as this tool is appropriated by elite institutions and hegemonic discourses, it creates a peculiarly modern form of public trial where, as in Kafka\u2019s court, the boundaries between formal procedure and public spectacle blur, and where the process of judgment itself becomes a form of punishment. Like Joseph K.\u2019s increasingly desperate efforts to prove his innocence, which only entangle him further in the system, the cancelled individual\u2019s attempts at explanation or apology frequently serve to amplify and extend their public trial. In this context, the surest way to get “cancelled” is to critically examine cancel culture itself, as this reflective stance is often framed by advocates of cancel culture as proof of one\u2019s moral failure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cancel Culture and Questions of Power<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

The reason for this shift is that the real change lies in the hierarchy itself. What\u2019s at stake now is who gets to speak for others, often from a position of privilege. Rather than dismantling hierarchies, we are seeing them transform into new ones, with power moving to what Dan Kovalik refers to as \u201cliberal elites.\u201d The goal is no longer equality, but the power to speak and to silence. As Umut \u00d6zkirimli similarly claims, cancel culture represents a significant shift in how power operates in public discourse, where grassroots practices of accountability have been appropriated and transformed by institutional actors. This is particularly striking if one considers that certain manifestations of cancel culture focus on critiquing instances of \u201ccultural appropriation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

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First edition of Orwell\u2019s Animal Farm<\/a><\/em>, published posthumously in 1945<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Like Joseph K. in The Trial<\/em>, who never learns the precise nature of his charges or who exactly is persecuting him, individuals facing cancellation may confront an opaque system of power and authority where accusations, accusers, processes of judgment and ways of appeal or defence remain unclear. According to Orwell again, this time in the preface he wrote for his 1945 novel Animal Farm<\/em> which was only published posthumously by Sir Bernard Crick, it is not government censorship that is the greatest danger to free thought and free expression but the pressures of societal conformity (\u201cThe Freedom of the Press\u201d).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

More and more people are given the impression that they participate in the exercise of control, that they have a share in power and that they are gaining power and a say in social affairs through online dissemination and the invitation to engage in cancellation. This is reminiscent of the neoliberal tactic of big business to \u201cbaptise\u201d employees as partners to involve them more in terms of their obligations towards the company at work but not in terms of their rights. Thus, it\u2019s not just the targets of cancellation campaigns who find themselves ensnared in Kafkaesque systems, but even the enforcers of cancel culture. It\u2019s similar to Joseph K., who becomes so immersed in the plot against him\u2014despite never understanding the accusations\u2014that he ultimately stops trying to escape it, even developing a strange desire to return to it. Alternatively, it could be compared to the Oompa-Loompas, if that\u2019s a more fitting reference.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is a counter-argument to be made here. One could say that cancel culture and the preceding but related idea of enforcing political correctness began as ways to protect vulnerable groups from aggressive and\/or violent language or the perpetuation of dark paradigms (Papastefanaki 2, 21\u201327). But are we truly protecting anyone by eliminating such references from an already somewhat safe space, like the dramatic and fictional realms of theatrical or literary works, when violence, racism, patriarchy, sexism, homophobia and so on are solemnly present around us every day? Is a person prepared to deal with this? Have they acquired the tools that critical reflection and engagement with history alongside fictional narratives and dramatic representations can offer? I am afraid not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Elements that prove Charles Dickens was racist (Casey), removed from their context and historical framework, are exalted at the expense of other elements that are much more evident in his literary works, such as issues of social (in)justice, poverty, exploitation and so on. This practice of calling for the work to be suppressed seems to be a replication of capitalism and patriarchy, resorting to punitive methods over rehabilitative or educational approaches (Kovalik\u2014see chapter 8). In other words, Dickens, who did not belong to a privileged family and class, turned against the privileged through his works, only to be criticised for speaking from a position of privilege. Such criticism takes shape through a convoluted interplay between institutional actors and (often anonymous or pseudonymous) social media users who amplify and legitimate each other\u2019s claims. In the echo chambers of cyberspace, these voices create or feed into trends that are hard to escape as any attempt to argue back leads to stigmatisation, labelling and marginalisation\u2014ironically replicating the very practices they purport to oppose.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In this context, a regime of fear is being created online and offline for contemporary artists (see Appleman 24\u201337). Particularly in genres like comedy and stand-up, but also beyond, artists today may feel like Joseph K: that everyone is suspicious of them, that they can potentially be pronounced guilty for what they write or say, not knowing who might be offended by what. It is not unreasonable for them to feel that way. If Shakespeare can be cancelled, how much easier could it be for those trying to make a living from their artistic work? In some cases, the question of cancel culture could be a matter of life and death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So should they not be criticised? Of course, they should. But criticism should be open to dialogue, inviting rather than demanding. It should demonstrate why some points are outdated or could be considered hate speech and so on. Criticism of the use of stereotypes or offensive words and characterisations would be more than welcome if it were not aimed at exemplary and vindictive punishment, as is often the case with cancel culture, but actually at fostering social justice and mutual education. Not everyone adapts to social change at the same pace. Expecting everyone to educate themselves about identity or other sociopolitical matters without properly acknowledging the challenges faced by people from unprivileged backgrounds who grapple with the daily struggle to secure necessities is itself quite a privileged behaviour.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Within the theatrical world, a cancel culture revolving around matters of representation, identity and cultural appropriation overshadows crucial economic factors that shape artistic production and consumption. Instead of depending on the often-punitive tactics of cancel culture when evolving standards are not met (as some view them), more effective strategies for social change should focus on addressing the economic systems that restrict access for underprivileged artists and audiences.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And if one really wants to change something in the world more generally, I see no other way than public debate. <\/strong>The true problem with cancel culture is that it causes people to silence themselves out of fear that their words might result in being cancelled. Research indicates that this outcome is a consequence of how cancel culture has developed over time, rather than merely how it is portrayed by its critics (Garc\u00e9s-Conejos Blitvich). As a result, what is being fostered\u2014already in progress\u2014is increased polarization. And when debate is no longer possible, violence takes its place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Echoes of Cancel Culture in Contemporary Greek Theatre<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Last year, several plays addressing the main themes of political correctness and cancel culture were performed in Greece. One such example is the performance of Ulster American<\/em>, which is of additional interest because of its specific focus on the conditions of creating a theatrical performance. David Ireland\u2019s black comedy, which was first presented in 2018, premiered in Greece during the 2023\u201324 season, directed by Manolis Dounias (see Athinorama Team). The play revolved around the poignant and burning question: What can we say in theatre? And the things we ultimately choose to say, what relationship do they have with the reality of life and our interpersonal relations?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Despite a somewhat weaker or less direct link to political correctness, it appears that the practice of cancel culture concerned yet another performance of the previous season. This involved a production of the contemporary Greek play Hum@anitarium<\/em> by Stella Papadimitriou, conceptualized and directed by Thanos Nikas. In this interactive performance, the audience was invited to cast votes that would either fully validate and recognize or cancel one of the three online profiles held by the characters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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