Theater has always been more than just a stage with actors: it is a battleground of ideas; a space where artistic and social tensions play out in real time. In Georgia, the proposed amendments to the Law on Professional Theaters—which eliminate the role of the artistic director and consolidate all power under a single administrative director—mark a profound shift not just in the management of cultural institutions but in the very philosophy of theater itself. Is this reform truly a response to inefficiency, or does it signal a deeper attempt to bureaucratize, depoliticize, and ultimately control the creative process?
With theaters in Georgia responding through protests, cancelled performances, and direct appeals to audiences, the question is no longer just about management structures: it is about the future of theatrical art in a society where power struggles between artists and the state have historically shaped national identity.
What Happens When Art Becomes Administration?
At the heart of this reform is the abolition of the role of artistic director. Traditionally, the artistic director is not just a manager but a visionary figure responsible for setting the creative agenda of a theater. The new law consolidates both administrative and artistic control under a single director, ostensibly to eliminate what the government calls “dual power” inefficiency. But does such an approach truly benefit the theater, or does it strip away the very essence of artistic leadership?
To understand the implications, we must look at historical and global precedents:
Soviet Theatrical Centralization (1930s-1950s): The Soviet Union implemented strict state control over theaters, making artistic directors personally responsible for ideological compliance. Theaters lost their autonomy, and directors were often removed—or worse—if their productions were deemed politically inappropriate. This created an atmosphere of fear and self-censorship, which ultimately stifled artistic innovation.
The Managerial Takeover in the West (1990s-Present): In some Western countries, particularly the UK and US, there has been a shift toward corporate-style governance in theater, where administrative executives wield more power than creative leaders. Theaters must meet financial and marketing goals, leading to more commercial programming and fewer experimental productions.
The French Resistance Model: In contrast, France has historically protected the independence of its theater institutions. The Théâtres Nationaux model ensures that artistic directors, not bureaucrats, have the final say in programming. The state funds culture but does not dictate its content, maintaining a healthy balance between support and creative freedom.
If Georgia follows the managerial model rather than the artistic one, it risks turning theaters into bureaucratic institutions rather than spaces for artistic innovation.
Why This Reform Matters Beyond Theater
This law does not exist in a vacuum. It follows a broader pattern of government attempts to centralize cultural control, a strategy that can be observed in various authoritarian-leaning regimes throughout history. Theater has always been a powerful space for dissent, protest, and national identity. Theater was central to Georgia’s independence movement in the late Soviet era, and today, it remains one of the few public forums where politically and socially charged conversations can still take place outside government control.
Consider the Polish theater crisis (2016-2018), where the government attempted to place more conservative, state-friendly figures in charge of major cultural institutions. The backlash was immediate: protests, resignations, and boycotts by artists and audiences alike. Theaters in Poland have since become hotbeds of political resistance, showing that artistic institutions, when challenged, can become powerful symbols of defiance.
Similarly, the proposed Georgian reform arrives in the context of ongoing political struggles. With theaters actively joining the protests, cancelling shows, and directly addressing audiences, it is clear that artists see this not as a simple managerial restructuring, but as an existential threat to artistic independence.
A Stage Without a Director: The End of the Artistic Director Model?
With the new law set to remove current directors and consolidate power under a competitive appointment system, several key questions arise.
Who will be chosen to lead these theaters? If appointment processes become politically influenced, theaters risk being staffed with administrators who prioritize government loyalty over artistic vision.
What happens to theater as a political space? If artistic autonomy is diminished, will politically engaged performances disappear? Will censorship become indirect but pervasive?
How will audiences respond? Georgian audiences have historically supported theater as a space for cultural and political discourse. If theaters lose their independence, will the public disengage, or will resistance movements gain traction?
Final Act: A Political or Cultural Decision?
This reform is being framed as a necessary modernization to improve efficiency in theater governance. However, history teaches us that efficiency is rarely the true goal when governments interfere with artistic institutions. Whether in the Soviet Union, modern Poland, or corporatized Western theater models, the removal of independent artistic leadership has always led to a decline in creative boldness.
By responding with protests and cancelled performances, Georgia’s theater community is sending a clear message: this is not just about management—it is about the soul of theater itself. Theaters are not merely buildings with actors; they are spaces where national identity, political resistance, and creative freedom intersect.
As the final curtain falls on the artistic director model in Georgia, the real question remains: will this be the beginning of a new era of control, or will artists and audiences resist the transformation of theater into a bureaucratic machine?
By Ivan Nechaev
