Does Theatre Have A Bullying Problem?

I could hold an AGM at The London Palladium with the psychopaths, creeps and thugs I have encountered in theatre. 

Can I confide in you? It worries me.

Theatre likes to think of itself as progressive, moral, and vaguely heroic. It produces work about injustice while practising it backstage with alarming efficiency. Silence continues to cloak abuses of power, and senior figures who enjoy public reverence and private impunity remain conspicuously quiet.

I started at the bottom, as most people do, and learned early that talent is optional but survival skills are essential. Over time, patterns emerge. There is the incompetent manager promoted for reasons known only to them. The senior figure with “eccentricities” everyone is expected to indulge. The table-banging executive who speaks in third person and confuses fear with respect. The intimidator who “gets things done”, usually at the expense of everyone else’s nervous system.

The older you get, the easier it is to spot the phonies. And I just think: how unpleasant for them. Imagine waking up every day and being that exhausting.

Power imbalances in theatre are extreme, and freelancing has made them worse. If you are hired job to job, production to production, the message is clear: complain and disappear. Many freelance workers now call for stronger anti-bullying protections written directly into contracts, alongside clear and genuinely safe routes for complaints. Ask people where they would go if something went wrong and most will tell you: nowhere. Or worse, they’ll laugh.

Research bears this out. The Class Ceiling report found that more than half of working-class Mancunian creatives have experienced bullying, harassment or bias linked to social class. Broadcasting union Bectu reports that 15% of workers have felt bullied at work, and that 74% believe behaviour unacceptable in other sectors is routinely tolerated in television. Theatre, naturally, assumes it is different. It isn’t.

One reason is structural. Many arts organisations have no meaningful HR function at all. Personnel issues are dealt with informally, inconsistently, or not at all. Often, the people at the top of the organisation are both the culprits and the ones theoretically responsible for addressing complaints. This is not an oversight. It is a design feature. It leaves those on the receiving end with nowhere to turn and everything to lose.

Either way, “The Arts” is a closed shop. Rock the boat and you will be remembered, not for your work, but for your inconvenience. The reputational memory of the sector is long, selective, and rarely kind. This, to me, is the problem. Not bad apples, but a hierarchal system that quietly rewards them. A rotten cart. 

Incredibly, there are signs of movement. Legal changes now prevent non-disclosure agreements being used to silence victims of harassment and discrimination, a welcome step in an industry where NDAs have been less about protection and more about reputation management. But enforcement matters. Without it, the law becomes another polite suggestion. Well, I almost feel bad admitting it, but I should say in general I have found writing about, calling out and asking tough questions during these turbulent years rather cathartic. The routine is pretty therapeutic. And I am grateful to those people who I look up to who so often privately encourage me. 

Anyway. The government’s long-promised freelance champion could help maintain pressure and accountability, yet delays persist. When asked recently, Lisa Nandy’s department said the appointment would happen “as swiftly as possible”, which is Westminster shorthand for “don’t hold your breath”. I would probably be filthy rich if I didn’t have morals and a chip on my shoulder. Alas, I wouldn’t trade my reputation for anyone’s in that circle.

So does theatre have a bullying problem? I think the better question is simpler: is this good enough? Is this acceptable? For an industry that generates serious revenue and international prestige for the UK, the lack of safeguarding is stark. For one that prides itself on empathy, it is embarrassing.

Any other business? Well, I worked at an arts organisation once that didn’t have a whistleblowing policy – and where the CEO didn’t have a job description. How can anyone be held to account in these circumstances. Spoiler: they can’t.

Theatre loves an audience. What it struggles with is scrutiny. Join a union. 

For now, can I confide in you? It worries me.