A 60-year-old Theatre Festival: Theatertreffen
İlker Çalışkan*
Abstract
This article critically examines the Berliner Theatretreffen’s 2023 side program, “10 Treffen,” as well as the festival management’s efforts to reshape the institution’s culture toward greater inclusivity. While “10 Treffen” appeared to challenge the festival’s structure by framing the main selection as just one of several “meetings” and highlighting issues of privilege, the article questions the program’s effectiveness. It argues that these so-called “Treffen” fall short of earning their name, due to the lack of meaningful confrontation and dialogue among the festival jury, institutional leadership, artists, audiences, and critics.
Keywords: Berliner Theatretreffen, encounter, privilege, inclusion, institutional culture.
What you’re reading now is a very belated birthday message for a festival that first opened its eyes to the world—perhaps more specifically, to the West—61 years ago. Whether it’s the festival yearning to reconnect with its origins or my tardy message that needs to take a cue from the early-rising rooster,[1] I can’t quite say. What I do know is this: after everything that happened last year, the festival deserves more than ever to be reminded of how gracefully it has aged. And for the record, this delay has nothing to do with laziness.
Here it is, the year 1964! Three years after the Berlin Wall was built, the festival, initially named Berliner Theatrewettbewerb as a theatre competition, was renamed the following year to Berliner Theatretreffen, meaning “Berlin Theatre Meetings” or “Encounters.” Far from losing its role as a window into the theatre of West Germany after the Cold War, it gained a stronger sense of political confidence in coming together after East Germany’s integration into the West.
It may be observed that interest in East German productions increased after 1989. However, the scope of Theatertreffen extends beyond Germany and the German language; it is, at its core, an institution of Western theatre. Each year, the festival jury, comprising seven theatre critics, selects and invites “10 remarkable productions” from Germany, Austria, and Switzerland to be showcased in Berlin. This selection process reflects the festival’s underlying ethos, rooted in the tradition of Western theatre: bemerkenswert.
The German word bemerkenswert, which translates to “remarkable,” means “extraordinary enough to deserve attention.” Every year, the jury, whose members change periodically, spreads out across German-speaking regions and evaluates productions based on this criterion. The selected works are expected to provide insight into the contemporary theatre of the countries they represent. Alongside the announcement of the program, the discussions that take place are another desired aspect of the festival; they are its very identity. Since the festival does not claim to select the “best” works, it creates aesthetic and political agendas without concealing the host’s “view.” Therefore, its capacity to produce discourse and its subjective stance place it right at the heart of the cultural policy context it inhabits.
The birth of Berliner Festspiele, which is responsible for bringing numerous festivals such as the Berliner Theatretreffen, Berlinale, Jazzfest Berlin, Musikfest Berlin, and Treffen junge Szene to life, occurred as a direct result of Cold War-era cultural policies. First introduced in 1951 under the name Berliner Festwochen, the event included a variety of artistic, sports, and entertainment activities. That same year, it positioned itself as the “showcase of the free world” in opposition to the Weltfestspiele held in East Berlin, which brought together young people from around the world. In its first two years, the festival was financed by the Allied powers, and in subsequent years, by the federal and Berlin state governments. Over time, it transformed into a company called Berliner Festspiele GmbH, becoming part of the umbrella organization that also coordinates other cultural activities in Berlin. The institution directly appoints the general artistic director and manager of Berliner Festspiele, the intendant, and indirectly determines the management of the Theatretreffen, which is selected by the intendant.
After the wall separating Eastern and Western Europe was completed, the Theatre der Freien Volksbühne, which would become the main venue for the “Theatre Meetings” starting in 2001 and be renamed Haus der Berliner Festspiele, was constructed. I’m not sure if its first intendant, Erwin Piscator, could have predicted that its stage would witness the “free world” where “borders were erased,” but he likely would have been pleased that the building, with its International Style, embodied the ideal of “democratic architecture.” With its large, glass façade that allows easy dialogue with the outside world, its loosely structured foyer that prioritizes free movement, and its auditorium layout that avoids hierarchy between the audience and the seats, the building speaks to us. Although it changed hands between two different ideologies – Marxist and liberal – it continues to invite us to encounters at the crossroads between the stage and the space beyond it.
The Theatretreffen, on the one hand, risks being aligned with the status quo in aesthetic and political fields as a result of the cultural-historical context it is embedded in, and on the other hand, it faces intense criticism due to the criteria used by its jury in the evaluation process. The organization, which does not reject political engagement, seems to view itself, albeit without explicitly stating it, as the most “remarkable” festival of German-language theatre through its original and elitist selection process. Indeed, as it continues to spark discussions and draw attention, it increases its potential to bring people together as an effective channel for critique. However, in an undesirable way, what is considered “remarkable” can turn into a label along the axis of “best-worst,” potentially trapping the discussions in a vicious circle. While the festival, with its elitist perspective, tries to distance itself from such polemics, the very same perspective in its aesthetic and political frameworks creates a gap in its desire to present a broader picture of German-language theatre, particularly due to its insufficient inclusion of young artists and avant-garde work in its selections.
In an attempt to be more inclusive and broaden the horizon of the “meetings” it offers, the Theatretreffen increasingly emphasizes a side program supporting the main selection. It particularly focuses on international events that encourage youth participation. Some of these include the International Forum, where young professionals come together for various workshops and discussions; the Theatretreffen-Blog, which I was a part of two years ago and offers a critical perspective on the festival; and Stückemarkt, which promotes the works of young playwrights.
Last year, as it celebrated its sixtieth anniversary, the Theatretreffen decided to spend its birthday reflecting on itself. For earthlings, who typically choose to mark birthdays with flashy celebrations—an occasion that, before its birth, had been heralded like a prophecy and later exploded into hollow noise, turning into the monument to “self-glorification”—this might be hard to understand. On the other hand, its period of contemplation was not merely a retrospective evaluation of its past. Quite the opposite, this intellectual endeavor, through a discussion of the act of coming together—one that is the cornerstone of both the festival and the performing arts in general—was a step toward critically looking at the past and transforming the future. As could be expected, its present time was intense and full of activity, and it was organized around the question Wer hat das Privileg, nicht zu wissen? (“Who has the privilege of not knowing?”). For the first time in 2023, the festival was managed by a collective, while it unveiled a supportive program that “frames, beguiles, and embraces” the main selection, drawing inspiration from the potential it holds and with the hope of developing new perspectives for the future. A team of three female artists and managers from Poland, Ukraine, and Germany organized a series of events called 10 Treffen, inviting participants to engage in multidimensional discussions about the freedom to remain ignorant (!).
10 Treffen, positioning “10 remarkable productions” as one of its “meetings,” explored how the “remarkable” resonated at the European level through its other 9 “meetings” held under different themes. Focused on various topics such as war, migration, the climate crisis, body politics, and feminism, the “meetings” aimed to envelop the entire festival with possibilities for encounters, from indoor spaces to gardens, from intermissions to late-night hours. By posing a question about privileges, it encouraged coming together while also raising the issue of how fair conditions could be ensured, at least at the European level. The war on Ukrainian territory bitterly reminded the world that there is not just one East, as assumed by the West, but many Easts, including Europe. Yet, the West—especially Germany as a striking example—demonstrated that it could choose its own “East” with its “historic responsibility.” The war crimes condemned in Ukraine were not only ignored in Palestine; it could not tolerate even the slightest criticism of the genocide imposed by Israel. The freedom of assembly for those shouting “Never Again!” for all peoples, not just those of states defined by the rulers, was obstructed by being labeled as antisemitism. If the 10 Treffen festival were to continue in its 2024 edition, it would be impossible not to wonder how the equal conditions for listening to each other could be established, given the festival’s budget, funded by the state, that turns a deaf ear to calls like “Free Palestine from German Guilt” or what would be discussed in those “meetings.”
Despite its geographical boundaries, the live program presented by 10 Treffen was an attempt to focus on a pluralistic aesthetic, navigating the paths of coming together, contrary to what many critics in newspapers and magazines had said, by viewing from the very heart of the theatre. Plural, because the gaze organized by the theatre in a single location also addressed the other senses dulled by the dynamics of view, through “encounters” that shifted from the stage to the garden, from the foyer to an old factory. Alive, because during the meetings where young professionals gathered, or when calling everyone to scream for a minute at the same time every day, or when a cultural institution was being cooked in a recipe shared, or when inviting someone to paint a body, it revealed the potential of participants to engage in creation and change together—whether in the protest moment when the artist and the audience jumped in sync with the rap, or when it offered an opportunity to make handicrafts in the garden, escaping from the fast-paced chaos of the festival. In this way, it explored the possibilities of transformation in theatre, in a way that most critics did not want to see, without describing it, and sometimes even without paying attention to it.
In a past that now seems very distant to us, humanity possessed the ability to change in harmony with the world, but in the pursuit of creating other worlds, this ability was pruned, leaving behind a vast emptiness as its legacy. And so, the heart of theatre beats in that emptiness, which is pregnant with new encounters, because this domesticated relative of rituals deeply feels the loss of the world it left behind. Yet, it finds solace in coming together, it breathes. We call the alternative worlds that a person builds in front of what exists, while the effort to understand traverses the growing distance between themselves and the world, “art.” It’s no wonder that Aristotle, attempting to comprehend the world by casting his gaze across the places he moved through, arrived at fictional worlds. Likewise, it’s not surprising that the vast universe, elusive and ungraspable, somehow aligns itself with the gaze.
However, the theatre itself is hazy; it does not remain as it stands on the stage, but spills over into possible universes. This reckless path, which leaks out of theoria and brews in the theatron, certainly passes through the polis, through the act of creating life together. For this reason, theatre belongs to those who, just as much as the rulers, do not regard what they see as the truth; to those whose hearts cannot bear what they see; in short, to those who see the polis as a part of the earth, just as they see themselves as children of it. The pluralistic aesthetics that sprout from here open up to different encounters, but the knowledge of the encounters are reciprocal; it is revealed in the collaboration of influence and being influenced. Critics who found 10 Treffen to be nothing more than “artivism” and believed it killed the artistic value of the theatre probably thought it could be deciphered by the applause heard in the hall. But truly, who was suffering from ignorance?
I would like to remind critics who belittle the efforts to make the essence of a 60-year-old festival more sincere with words associated with “woke,” aka “playing the sensitivity card,” that theatre itself is the very antenna of cities. As for the dramaturgy of coming together and the resilience of life, I would also note to both myself and the aforementioned group that we can learn a lot from insects’ antennae, beyond futile metaphors. By the way, I would advise that little trust be placed in the opinions and memory of the author of these lines, whose verbal acrobatics seem to have reached the end of their rope.
That being said, I would still like to salvage my bohemian (penniless) critic charisma (or rather, my caricature) by showing that I did not place excessive meaning on either my own expectations or the festival: Of course, the 2023 program of such a long-established festival, with so many intertwining dynamics, was not a revolution on its own. The executive team aimed to address the organizational culture and festival dramaturgy in terms of power dynamics, seeking a more pluralistic structure. Nevertheless, this renewal, intended through “encounters” by speaking the festival’s own language, became yet another victim of the weaknesses of that very language.
Just as Theatretreffen distorts the meaning of “theatre encounters” by only including state-funded theatres in its main selection, 10 Treffen was also unable to properly fulfill its promise of bringing together the other encounters with its main selection, which it considered one of the encounters. Rather than developing connections from multiple angles, the Berliner Theatretreffen turned into a “1 against 9 encounters” by becoming two parallel lines, which gave some idea of how the meetings between the jury and the festival management unfolded. Yes, there was a discussion on what significance “noteworthy” could gain in the context of Eastern Europe, but I’m not sure if “noteworthy productions” were aware of it. Although the festival, where “noteworthy” became a mere aesthetic badge, traditionally granted its “10 remarkable ones” the privilege of drawing attention to alternative art pieces, the main responsibility for the “encounters” that remained unaware of each other should have been shared by the intendant, the jury, and the festival management. At least, this way, the closing meeting, where the festival’s evaluation took place, could have turned into a true moment of gathering.
The festival, unable to bring together audiences and artists both physically and through mental connections as it wished, had come to live with the ghost it had created for three weeks. Critique articles published in online and print media could have built bridges across this apparent void, but the discontent felt even over the participation of just two individuals each from the International Forum and TT-Blog in the closing discussion was, unfortunately, a representation of a prevailing opinion among critics. In the past, this open-to-all meeting was where only the jury evaluated the festival and answered questions, but last year, four additional people joined the jury at the table. Speaking from an equal position with the jury, they questioned the inclusivity of the main selection and opened up the discussion about the criteria for being “remarkable.”
Although it was a major shortcoming that the festival management did not participate as speakers, it was significant that these critiques were voiced from within the festival. Independent of the jury, the cold air circulating in the room seemed to explain who the empty seats at the 10 Treffen events belonged to or why certain critique articles had a reductionist tone. Criticisms seen as politically correct sensitivities were thought to overlook the artistic value of the festival. However, as Mercy, a black actor and a participant of the International Forum, knows well in Germany, the concepts of inclusivity and pluralism are, contrary to what is claimed, not mere popular clichés but, in fact, necessities that are concrete in every stage of artistic production and reception. Even if we consider all of this as non-artistic concerns, isn’t the very fact that a multicultural society requires them enough to bring them into the realm of art that engages with life and stands more firmly on the ground?”
The criticisms voiced during the closing session, the only platform where all jury members participated in a public discussion aside from the press conference announcing the festival program, were not aimed at the jury members themselves but pointed to a structural issue. It was part of the effort to transform the festival’s institutional framework, and this effort was met, from day one to the last moment, with both the joy of life emerging from people’s involvement in the encounters and the melancholia of critics who uphold the established cultural status quo. Ultimately, by 2024, from what I’ve observed from a distance, it seems that the Berliner Theatretreffen has put aside the decisions it made on its last birthday.
Berliner Festspiele responded to the desire for a return to roots, fueled by that melancholia: The festival’s identity had now been freed from curatorial threats, returning to the time when the entire artistic responsibility rested with the jury. To complete this return, the festival management had been changed, and, like the Berlinale, funded by the same state company, the multi-voiced executive team was abandoned. In fact, there is a distinction in the emphasis placed on the jury of critics, which sets the festival apart from countless similar events.
Critics, who research and make their choices independently of a curatorial program, stand on the reception side of theatre rather than the production side. Therefore, they can view the works from the position of the audience. On the other hand, as part of their role, they justify their opinions and present them within a context. Thus, as “professional spectators,” they are assumed to make the most accurate decisions in determining artistic quality. It was believed that the 10 Treffen, both in its very existence and in its content, disrupted this crystallized perfection. So much so that, setting aside the highly regarded bemerkenswert selection, the critics wrote more about the supportive program. According to them, this structure that dumbed down the program was based not on aesthetics, but on political and moral choices. Furthermore, the jury, who did not understand the language of the invited teams aimed at “internationalizing” the festival, was unable to evaluate their works and became sidelined.
There is a critical and simple point that those who separate art from politics tend to overlook or ignore: that is, all choices, including aesthetic ones, are shaped within a context and, therefore, cannot avoid engaging with the polis. For this reason, saying that past changes in the festival, unlike 10 Treffen, came about as a result of artistic debates and that the festival urgently needed to return to its normal state is not independent of ideology. As Brecht pointed out, bourgeois mentality sees what is essentially a political choice as a given, and thus assumes it to be unchangeable by nature. Otherwise, is it possible that the critics don’t know what their fellow citizens do? Haven’t they noticed, as is often the case, that, unlike cultural and artistic activities managed by the states, Berliner Festspiele is directly tied to the federal government because it represents all of Germany? Then why, instead of seeing that the artistic value of 10 Treffen cannot be separated from its political engagement, do they belittle the theatrical knowledge of the curatorial team behind it, without engaging in a discussion on how aesthetic evaluation could take place? And why, when looking at the works presented in the “meetings,” do they reduce the question of quality solely to content, without asking what kind of production forms could emerge under difficult circumstances like war? How is it that, in comparison with experts, they downplay art’s contribution to social debates? Isn’t art precisely about the difficult, the complex things? To engage with them, isn’t coming together necessary first? If that’s the case, why should the encounter of theatres that bring together the unlike ones take place in only one language? If the goal is to make the festival a more inclusive meeting, what could possibly stand in the way of trying with the collaboration of critics’ juries and curatorial teams, perhaps with the inclusion of other actors? I believe Brecht may have some theories on this matter, but the critics were emphasizing that there was no time to waste: The current funding conditions would no longer be valid in 2024. There were concerns that the federal support for the festival, which had veered off its course, might decrease. That’s why they were asking again: Where is the route drawn by the current leadership taking Theatretreffen?
There is a beautiful saying in German that expresses how criticism stems from love and carries care: Kritik ist Liebe. Therefore, I can see that some critics did not oppose the transformation brought about by 10 Treffen merely due to conflicting interests, but this does not mean that love is free from possessive forms. However, what is meant by the transformation of Theatretreffen is not a threat to its life, but rather a reconsideration of the elements that form its identity, so that it may thrive for a long time. This is exactly what was intended with the reference to its core “meetings,” or “encounters.” How could the Berliner Theatretreffen have expanded beyond the format of a closed gathering in a prestigious neighborhood to spread across multicultural Berlin? Apart from “Ophelia’s Got Talent,” the main program, which had an outdated perspective and lacked excitement in terms of aesthetics, was still maintaining its audience, but the dominance of a few metropolitan productions made it feel overly limited, even by its own standards. The risk of elitism shows up here: it’s not about evaluations made by experts, but the fact that those experts do not encounter other, possibly related, perspectives. In the end, this resulted in a narrow program made up of the subsidized theatres from a few cities.
The 10 Treffen, aiming to broaden the festival’s horizon, sought to gain a far-sighted perspective by stepping outside of institutional boundaries. Inspired by the architectural connotations ofthe Haus der Berliner Festspiele and the tradition of political theater it once hosted, encounters were organized with cultural producers who had remained on the periphery of the city. The communities they had formed through cultural production served as vibrant examples of how art and cultural policies could acquire meanings beyond bourgeois values. For instance, Ukrainian immigrants gathering at the Cultural Works Studio were strengthening their group dynamics through their work, while also seeking ways to build connections with others. Through such examples, the festival can become a more public event, not only because of its financing, but also because of its inclusiveness.
When it comes to coming together, and especially when it is discussed with the meeting of theaters; it is impossible not to mention Dionysus, who is also the god of theater. Indeed, Dionysus shares his fellowship with all the gestures of togetherness. His wrath, however, seeks out those who disturb the coexistence of life. His anger is felt not from the storms he unleashed, but from the gradual withdrawal of vitality that followed, with a last-ditch effort born from this, the non-Western guests of the Theatretreffen seem to have been invited. Otherwise, how can it be explained that they are forced to recount the discrimination they are subjected to again and again? And to which ears? For instance, can Ukrainian artists perform a piece without mentioning the war? And to which eyes? Whether European or not, can people meet without the intention of presenting German theatre as more colorful and humble? But in what kind of society? Let us not forget that encounters are reciprocal and require shared responsibility. Ignorance, then, does not exempt anyone from this. So why should we force ourselves into a collapsing framework, trapped between exoticism and oversimplification? Let us not forget, it is our shared ability to imagine and build new worlds that unites us in theatre. That’s why we leave the performance space with wonder in our eyes, and bring that vision to the streets through our bravery. If theatre must die, then let it—because we are moving beyond it.
Looking at the predominantly white, middle-aged, and upper-middle-class crowd filling the Haus der Berliner Festspiele, it seems that many other Berliners might think the Theatretreffen deserves similar treatment, or perhaps they simply don’t care about the festival at all—I don’t know. However, it seems that the Berliner Theatretreffen might soon painfully experience that inclusivity is not a “trend,” but a vital reality, or perhaps the people might take cultural politics into their own hands, I don’t know.
NOTE: This article could not have been written without my other TT-Blog friends Aurelia Kraus, Zofia Nierodzińska, Antigone Akgün, Anna Reimnitz, Günther Mailand, Klaudia Lagozinski, Anastasia M. E. Gornizki and the good discussions we had. I would also like to thank them from here. I would also like to sincerely thank my dear friend Levni Hakan Şahin for his suggestions and support in translating the article into English.
Endnote
[1] The Turkish proverb “The prematurely crowing rooster gets its head cut off.” emphasizes that words or actions made at the wrong time can lead to bad consequences.
*İlker Çalışkan has a bachelor’s degree in psychology and is currently doing his master’s degree on the relationship between comedy and fiction in Turkey at Istanbul University, Department of Theatre Criticism and Dramaturgy. His critical reviews are published in various online media. He is a part of ACT Project, producing theatre-based artistic works for youngsters. He hopes to continue his work as a playwright and dramaturg.
Copyright © 2025 İlker Çalışkan
Critical Stages/Scènes critiques, #31, June 2025
e-ISSN: 2409-7411
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