Once again, Jordanian actor Mousa Hijazin took the stage, returning to his beloved character Sum’ah—a figure long cherished by the Jordanian public for his sharp wit, lighthearted humor, and biting political satire that captures the complexities of their daily lives. In this play, Sum’ah is an ordinary Jordanian citizen living a simple life. He works at a modest neighborhood establishment called The People’s Café, a gathering place for working-class and lower-middle-class residents. With keen instinct and spontaneous clarity, Sum’ah asks the questions that haunt him—questions that provoke others to think, even as those around him rush to silence his voice.
Eventually, his defiance lands him in prison, in the ironically named Bread and Fodder Division, where he confronts a government official and shouts: “This land once fed the entire Roman Empire with its wheat—while under your rule, it now begs for a single loaf of bread! Free the loaf, and you free the people!” Inside the prison, his fellow inmates scold him for his rebellion—for his relentless refusal to become a “law-abiding citizen.”
Written and directed by Mohammed Al-Shawaqfa, the play premiered in 1997 and addressed Jordan’s 1996 Bread Protests. It belongs to a series of satirical political plays co-produced by Al-Shawaqfa and Hijazin between 1992 and 2006. Hijazin met Al-Shawaqfa after the latter returned from studying in Yugoslavia, describing him as a reader and intellectual who carries people’s concerns, is committed to social justice, and has a genuine desire to create quality cultural productions in Jordan.
In 1992, the duo produced their first play, Hi, America, following their earlier success with Zaman Al-Shuqlaba—An Age of Contradiction, produced by Nabil Al-Meshini. That play had been performed in five US states after successful runs throughout Jordan’s governorates. This pattern continued for years: they would self-produce plays and rely on box office revenue to cover production costs including theater rental, technicians, lighting, set design, and other expenses. Their audiences never disappointed them—tickets would sell out, theaters would fill to capacity, and some patrons even sat on side stairs rather than miss a performance. For both artists, this popularity was the most important measure of success. The success and international performances of these plays in the Arab world sustained them through the late nineties.
Al-Shams Theatre, a new venue
In 2011 and 2012, Hijazin performed his final play, Al-Aan Fahemtukom—Now I Understand You, which tackled escalating events across the Arab region. This time, the play was written by Ahmed Hassan Al-Zoubi and directed by Muhammad Al-Dmour. The curtain then fell for the last time at the Concorde Theatre and remained closed until 2017, when director and writer Abdul Salam Qbailat decided to transform it into a new venue in Amman called Al-Shams Theatre.
Qbailat had just returned from Russia with plans to establish a theater that would offer continuous performances to audiences, replicating the repertoire theater model. He believed Jordan’s theater scene had something unique to offer, especially given all the wars and political upheaval occurring in the region at the time. By “investment,” Qbailat didn’t mean economic returns, but rather an investment that would advance local cultural production—hoping the state would recognize its importance and provide support and development. However, that didn’t happen. He funded his theater with his own money for eight years without any financial return. “I was naive to think the state would be interested in such a theater project,” he says. “In the eighties and nineties, theater in Jordan was developing, but this progress was soon cut short.”
The first attempts to create theatrical activity began with the establishment of the University of Jordan in 1962, when a group of artists created a troupe called the University Theater Family. The group included Nabil Al-Mashini, Nabil Sawalha, Suha Awad, Qamar Al-Safadi, and others. Later, the Department of Culture and Arts was established in 1966, followed by the Jordanian Theater Family. In the seventies, local theater took clearer shape as graduates who had studied acting and directing at Arab and international institutes and universities returned home. The Department of Performing Arts at Yarmouk University and the Arts Training Center of the Ministry of Culture were subsequently founded.
In the nineties, demand for Jordanian drama declined in the Arab world, partly due to the Gulf War’s impact on Jordan’s relationships with some Arab countries. This prompted artists to focus on local theater. During this period, the Ministry of Culture supported many productions.
This year, the Ministry of Culture is spending approximately 11 million Jordanian dinars on its programs—an increase after years of decline that reached its lowest point in 2020 with a budget of 7 million dinars. While most of these expenditures go toward cultural development projects (in theater and other cultural fields), primarily aimed at expanding arts training, nurturing young talent, and supporting cultural projects and organizations, these initiatives have failed to make a tangible impact on theater artists, according to Qbailat. He adds that the low budget allocated to culture in Jordan is part of a larger problem that has marginalized theater and creative sectors in general.
Almost complete absence of the public
During Qbailat’s work rehabilitating Al-Shams Theatre, electricity and water were reinstalled, the stage was rebuilt, wooden benches were replaced, and rehearsal rooms and backstage areas were added. Three months of personal effort aimed to introduce a new theater format that would work contrary to the prevailing festival-dependent model. According to Qbailat, this reliance on festival theater has driven audiences away from theater—the very audience that should be the first critics and the foundation of theatrical work. What he describes as “inadequate” cultural policies have perpetuated the festival model for nearly 25 years. Festivals have established themselves as annual events with a celebratory nature attended by artists but lacking audiences. Plays are performed only once or twice, whereas Qbailat states “theatrical work can only mature after being performed at least five times.”
“Audiences used to attend theater because it told their story,” he explains. “But now they are completely excluded.”
In an earlier attempt to create more artistic freedom, the Fawanees troupe worked in the mid-nineties to organize Amman Theater Days as an independent theater festival featuring Arab and international independent troupes. According to artist Muhtaseb Aref, one of the festival’s founders, the goal was to create a new environment less tied to cultural groups operating under official oversight. During the festival, troupes would perform their works freely and take responsibility for both the content and audience reception. The festival operated for 16 editions before succumbing to lack of financial and logistical support.
During its years of operation, the festival barely survived on symbolic funding from the Ministry of Culture, Amman Municipality, and occasionally international funding institutions—similar to many cultural organizations at the time. Eventually, it defaulted and declared bankruptcy after accumulating debts and increasing financial burdens. Aref notes that relying on a limited number of official festivals isn’t sufficient, while having numerous festivals or plays isn’t necessarily a criterion for improvement either. An abundance of events doesn’t reflect genuine cultural vitality if these productions lack substance and fail to convey meaningful messages. “Building cohesive theatrical work is expensive,” he continues, adding that support from the Ministry of Culture or other funding bodies is insufficient, requiring artists to self-fund their work—which is what Fawanees troupe members did throughout most of their active years.
Creating quality theatrical work or even developing creative and effective festival concepts requires an intellectually engaged artist with a message and cause worth defending to the end. Anyone who decides to take on this responsibility by producing quality art that addresses public concerns finds themselves alone, without financial or moral support, Aref concludes.
Returning to the question of audiences, Hayat Jaber, Executive Director of Al-Shams Theater, confirms that audiences are not only essential theater critics but also responsible for theater’s survival. Therefore, maintaining a regular box office restores the relationship with audiences, making theater part of people’s lives as they pay for tickets, even if the fee is small or symbolic. This frees theater from dependence on predetermined funding, which Hayat describes as disastrous, making artists dependent figures who produce only within available resources and whatever directives or ideologies their donors may carry. Here, the cultural practitioner becomes similar to a court intellectual, subject to the conditions of power in any form.
Jaber recognizes that grants have become an inevitable part of sustaining cultural production in the current context. However, relying on them as the sole means of support strips cultural institutions of their independence, deprives them of social sensitivity toward their audiences, and limits their ability to respond to the shifts and urgent events unfolding in the world they are meant to be inherently connected with.
In her latest book1, Hanan Toukan, a researcher and professor of politics and Middle East studies at Bard College, examines how politics shape the arts and culture sector in Amman and other Arab cities. Toukan argues that reliance on “foreign funding”—a term often burdened with negative connotations—can give rise to new art forms that don’t necessarily reflect local audience preferences or desires. Donors tend to support art they perceive as unconventional or “alternative,” often favoring specific types of filmmaking or performance art over traditional theater that appeals to broader local audiences. Consequently, these new art forms often cultivate more elite audiences. Over the past three decades, Amman’s cultural landscape has undergone a noticeable shift, marked by increased reliance on international grants across various sectors in Jordan—though this reliance isn’t confined to cultural matters.
Recent decades have seen notable efforts to establish theatrical groups and troupes, some surviving while others ceased operations, such as the Al-Rahala Theatre Troupe and the Jordanian National Theatre Troupe, founded by Hijazin and Al-Shawaqfeh in the 1990s. The 1980s saw the Al-Fawanees Group, founded by Nader Omran, Khaled Al-Tarifi, and Amer Madi, along with numerous youth groups—some still active today. Many are led by emerging artists often compelled to take regular day jobs, with theater work remaining a side pursuit sustained through personal effort.
According to Muhammad Yusuf Obeidat, head of the Jordanian Artists Syndicate, the organization has approximately 1,300 members working across five core professions: writing and composing, music performance and singing, directing, acting, and various technical and support roles. Some members also work in education at universities, schools, and private institutes. The Syndicate organizes three main festivals for children, youth, and adults, plus six additional festivals run by specialized affiliated teams and one or two festivals organized by amateur groups—totaling an average of ten festivals annually. Despite these festivals, Obeidat maintains there’s no consistent theatrical activity throughout the year, and festival attendance remains low.
He attributes this to ongoing financial difficulties faced by the Syndicate, whose income depends entirely on deductions from artistic profession fees: 2 % from union members’ wages, 4 % from non-members, 10 % from Arab artists, and 15 % from non-Arabs performing concerts in Jordan. These deductions support three main funds: Social Security, health insurance, and emergency aid—all benefiting Syndicate member artists.
Obeidat states that the past five years have severely disrupted the Syndicate’s operations and funding, beginning with the COVID-19 pandemic and resulting lockdowns, followed by the war on Gaza and its repercussions. These events have affected sector continuity and regular concert organization, especially those involving artists from outside Jordan, leading to significant decline in the Syndicate’s income. This impact extends to artists and cultural practitioners across various fields, but theater feels it most acutely, prompting many theater artists to shift toward television or cinema seeking better income and broader exposure. At this point, only those deeply loyal and passionate about the art form remain in theater—those who understand it offers no financial rewards yet pursue careers in it for moral fulfillment, seeing it as spiritual nourishment.
But how long can such artists endure ? After all, spiritual nourishment “doesn’t put bread on the table!”
The necessary political will
Obeidat explains that weak funding and scarce opportunities have inevitably impacted Jordan’s drama scene, affecting theater, television, and film production alike. Meaningful content is no longer a priority for producers; the main criterion is now viewership numbers, directly tied to profit. The result is fragile theater and television productions with weak scripts and shallow themes. In this situation, some artists reluctantly accept whatever work is offered, while others choose to refuse and pay the price by remaining unemployed. Every year, new talent embarks on acting and directing careers. However, the current job market reshapes their options and restricts their opportunities. Joyce Al-Ra’i, a lecturer in the Department of Theatre Arts at the University of Jordan since 2007, notes that challenges facing the department’s graduates are the same ones artists faced nearly 20 years ago, highlighting what she sees as fundamental problems with the field’s infrastructure and management.
Joyce acknowledges that many students actively seek ways to adapt to these challenges, continuing to work within available means or creating new spaces for quality production. However, some ultimately surrender to these obstacles, choosing careers entirely unrelated to art or emigrating to seek opportunities abroad. Those who consider theater their primary passion often take day jobs alongside their artistic pursuits. This dual commitment is exhausting, restricts their freedom, and can be frustrating due to the slow pace at which they see tangible results from their dedication.
During her tenure, Joyce has witnessed multiple curriculum changes for theater students. These changes have been integrated into a robust curriculum comparable to those of the most prestigious theater colleges. Students engage in practical learning supported by extensive readings and theoretical materials that broaden their horizons and deepen their cultural understanding, guiding them toward professional competency. Each year, only a few dozen students are admitted to the University of Jordan’s Department of Theatre Arts. Even fewer graduate, as some withdraw after realizing the greater effort required to complete the program—effort they hadn’t fully anticipated when enrolling. According to Joyce, the issue isn’t the small number of graduates each year, but rather their ability to maintain dedication and work quality under current circumstances. Unfair policies targeting specific sectors undermine their strength, and the complete absence of regulatory policies can be equally damaging. Qbailat argues that theater in Jordan has lost its influence, and revival requires deliberate political will that recognizes culture’s importance and remains receptive to solutions proposed by those within the creative sector.
According to actor and director Ahmed Surur, the current scene consists of artists or groups working independently with little to no real opportunity for networking or collaboration. There’s a pressing need for formal, structured organization, as individual efforts cannot replace the support and impact that formal institutions provide. Despite being a Syndicate member since 2011, Surur remains unclear about what the syndicate’s absent role should look like.
Surur adds that the last decade has witnessed the noticeable absence of several mentors and father figures in theatrical work. Artist Khaled Al-Tarifi, who influenced younger and less experienced generations, passed away, as did artist Hussein Nafie. Meanwhile, artist and director Ghannam Ghannam moved to the Gulf in 2011 after being active and effective in the field since the eighties, during which he founded several important theatrical groups and works. Ghannam says he didn’t leave seeking better financial prospects, but rather driven by aspirations for a more fulfilling professional life and the chance to pursue theatrical and cultural projects that weren’t possible in Jordan.
Jordanian theater practitioners agree that cultural work must receive the importance it deserves, and that the Ministry of Culture should no longer be regarded as the least significant ministry. The constant turnover and short-lived nature of ministerial appointments make artists’ roles challenging and undermine efforts to create long-term, sustainable projects.
“Ask me who I want as Minister of Culture,” says Surur. “I want a minister with a cultural background, someone who knows artists and theaters by name... and who doesn’t require me to reintroduce myself with every cabinet reshuffle.”
Translated from Arabic by Dima Kopti.
This article was originally published on[7iber->https://www.7iber.com/%d9%85%d8%a7
This dossier was produced as part of the activities of the network Independent Media on the Arab World. This regional cooperation brings together Assafir Al-Arabi, BabelMed, Mada Masr, Maghreb Émergent, Mashallah News, Nawaat, 7iber and Orient XXI
1The Politics of Art, Stanford University Press, 2021.