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The Cypriot art community has been shaken within the last week amidst reactions against the programming of Jan Fabre at the Cyprus International Theatre Festival.
With the organisers pulling every known move from the gaslighter’s hand book, what started as expression of outrage for the programming of an individual who has been found guilty for abuse and violence against 5 women from his dance company has somehow turned into a discussion on whether “cancel culture has gone too far”, on “whether artists can repent” and on “keeping an open mind and participate in dialogue”. Something very particular seems to have expanded into something “grey” and “complicated”. But is it?
This is not a matter of freedom of speech it is a matter of worker rights within the art industry
We don’t create art in a vacuum. It is an industry with an employer-worker relationship in place. While moral outrage over Jan Fabre’s continued recognition may be subjective, the foundation of this debate lies in objective realities about working conditions in the arts.
Unlike Renaissance times, the vast majority of artists do not enjoy the patronship of a Medici, they can’t just be taken care of and create art in a vacuum (although no art is ever created in a vacuum). The reality of today’s society is that an artist is more often than not also a worker, an employee or in the case of Fabre an employer who also receives money from a larger entity, in this case the Belgian government. With those benefits come responsibilities.
The Cyprus international Theatre Festival has been anything but forthcoming about Fabre’s problematic past. Initially when his participation in the lineup was announced the festival failed to mention any of the context surrounding him, perhaps hoping that no one would notice. Even when members of the Cyprus art community did notice, an orchestrated effort through identical press releases published in virtually every major outlet tried to convince otherwise; that this is about opening dialogue and freedom of expression. It is worth noting that this has been accompanied by jargon that significantly downplays Fabre’s record, shifting the discourse into more grey, “complicated” discussions about feelings and morality, which both can be subjective.
What is objectively a fact, is that his conviction was not a mere civil lawsuit seeking reparations but a criminal trial where guilt had to be proven beyond reasonable doubt. The court ruled that it was. Fabre received an 18-month suspended sentence and a five-year suspension of his civil rights, including voting and assembly, which remains in effect until 2027. Fabre is not just a “provocative personality”, he is a convicted criminal by the dictionary definition of the term. This doesn’t mean that individuals do not deserve a second chance, that is after all the purpose of a suspended sentence. But if CITF truly believes there is nothing reprehensible about its programming, why wasn’t there any transparency on who this individual is from the get go?
This case underscores systemic failures in the arts: blurred boundaries between creative expression and coercion, a culture of silence fostered by industry precariousness, and the lack of structures to protect workers. Unlike doctors or lawyers, artists face no professional oversight body; in the absence of regulatory deterrents, abuses persist under the guise of the “creative process.”
This issue extends beyond Mr Fabre; it is pervasive across artistic communities, including the Cypriot scene. The biblical saying, “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” feels particularly relevant. Boundaries in the creative process can sometimes be subjective, and rumors about colleagues—some of whom have spoken out on this case—circulate widely. Even I, as the writer, am not exempt from differing perceptions on my personal and professional integrity. This lack of a clear framework creates a vacuum, enabling behaviors like Fabre’s to take root in the first place.
Rather than debating Mr Fabre’s personal right to artistic expression, we should focus on the impact of his programming post-conviction—while he is still serving his sentence—on the industry as a whole. If a choreographer of his stature is found unfit to safeguard his employees yet continues to receive exposure that sustains his influence and power, effectively facing no real consequences, how can behaviors like his ever be denormalized?
No one can dictate to an Artistic Director, especially of a festival that is privately funded, what they can or cannot programme. Programmers, audiences and authors alike can celebrate and rejoice the privilege to “artistic expression” all they want. But it is the art workers who collectively have to bear the consequences by continuing to survive in an industry that resists any shifting towards sustainable, healthier and attainable expectations.
The lesson for the Cypriot art community
Fabre is just one piece of a larger issue, and while his art—undeniably compelling—is forever marked by the boundaries he repeatedly crossed, culminating in his conviction. The sold-out shows scheduled for next week are caught in the crossfire of debates that extend far beyond him or any single artist or artwork. That is, of course, if one chooses to prioritise the human factor over the final product, whatever that may be.
Whereas Fabre is a problem, the problem for the Cyprus art community is the vacuum that CITF claims to be filling. A vacuum created by the lack of long term, determined and achievable cultural policy on a state level.
A privately funded festival has found access to a municipal theatre with more ease than any other performing arts organisation or individual artist. With the exception of Diastasis and NEA KINISI when was the last time that Pattihio theatre was offered as an accessible venue for the presentation of any state funded dance performance? Almost 40% of Pattihio Municipal Theatre’s programming from now until October is promoted only in Russian, with no English or Greek descriptions.
This reality is deeply revealing—we are witnessing two parallel worlds on the island, especially in Limassol. In one, historically and culturally significant real estate with immense potential for thoughtful cultural development is steadily being acquired by private stakeholders. This was the case with old factories in Limassol, now housing commercial artistic spaces. These spaces, privately managed and accountable to no one, exert control over cultural affairs by monopolising venues, often offering them at “Russian prices.”
It is within this bubble that CITF finds its place—an event organised entirely by non-natives, seemingly indifferent to the withdrawal of the only native Cypriot productions from its lineup. Even their inclusion in the first place could be seen as decorative rather than integral to the festival’s programming. It does make one wonder if appropriating the name “Cyprus” and “International” comes from a point of audacity or from a point of reflecting a new state affairs on the island.
In a parallel reality, Dance House Lemesos remains without a home, struggling against Limassol’s hyperinflated real estate market—despite being one of the oldest and most dedicated organizations for contemporary dance in Cyprus. The city’s municipal theatre, Pattihio, lacks artistic direction, while in cities where municipal theatres do have leadership—like the Nicosia Municipal Theatre—there is little transparency. Questionable practices persist, such as programming young artists at festivals without a fixed payment fee, expecting them to rely solely on box office earnings in exchange for “exposure.” Just this past week, we learned that the Cyprus Youth Symphony Orchestra—one of the island’s most accomplished ensembles, with domestic and international recognition—has no fixed rehearsal space, and its academy’s budget for affordable, high-quality training has been cut.
The problem isn’t that “foreigners come and alter our culture.” It becomes a problem when private interests override collective needs, limiting the majority’s ability to shape its own future. Consider how MidBrain Ltd intervened in the redevelopment of the Limassol Municipal Garden playground without public consultation. If CITF did not carry a name suggesting it represents the collective Cypriot cultural community, perhaps the backlash wouldn’t have been as strong.
The reason private interests have taken over is because we, collectively, have not stepped up. Cyprus is overflowing with native talent, intelligence, and artistic inspiration. We don’t need to be “taught” culture—but we do need direction, not just in the arts but in governance. A recent poll from the Deputy Ministry of Culture identified the artistic community’s top priorities: increased funding and a legal framework for art workers. Both are essential, but as this case demonstrates, money and legality alone are not enough.
I wouldn’t waste more of my time discussing whether another problematic personality can or cannot express himself. I learnt a lot from his past work, but my personal ethics and logic push me to prioritise things that I deem more important than any kinds of art available out there.
But this is a time for reckoning for our community. Where are we heading at? What do we want culture on this island to look like in 10, 15, 20 years from now?
*Marita Anastasi is a Cypriot born and raised arts administrator and movement artist. She is currently Programming Coordinator at the English National Opera based in London.
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