What Does Accountability In Improv Look Like?

Recently, a female in Europe confided in me about an issue on her improv scene. Two males in positions of authority on her improv scene were bullying and emotionally abusing her. Because I knew both of them, her story triggered a cascade of emotions, and being totally honest, my first internal reaction was, “This can’t be true, is she sure she’s not mistaken?” I also knew, immediately, that it was vital to tell her that I believed her, because so many victims and survivors have already had their reality questioned before they even speak.

In the broader landscape, comedy and improv have seen a great deal of problems and problematic people come to light since the #metoo movement. When we read about famous and larger-than-life comedians who are perpetrators of serious sexual crimes, we collectively express shock and anger. The solidarity with victims and survivors in those situations is usually unconditional.

But with this individual’s situation it hit different, because I knew the two men she named. Outwardly, I offered her support and empathy. Internally, it took me some time to process what I had heard and resist slipping in to denial. I caught myself trying to categorise and minimise the behaviour. “Bullying could be unintentional and it’s not as serious an issue as sexual assault, right?” Yet bullying is a very serious issue that can contribute to mental health problems including self-harm and suicide.

This almost unconscious mindset highlighted to me how easy our empathy can falter when the alleged perpetrator is a friend, a colleague, or someone we perform with or gives us stage time. When harm seems “black and white”, we tend to believe victims and survivors. When it involves people we like or admire, our personal relationships and biases can quietly interfere with accountability. In a scene where opportunities and social capital are tightly woven together, it can feel personally costly to stand with a survivor, and that pressure can push people toward silence, half‑measures or even denial. 

Before to the #metoo movement, many theatres and schools did not have robust behavioural policies, and where policies existing, enforcement was often weak. Since then, many organisations introduced clearer codes of conduct, reporting procedures, and anti-harassment measures. This has helped create safer classrooms and theatres, and contributed to better diversity and representation. But there is still an elephant in the room: Accountability.

Is there a benchmark for accountability standards?

There are virtually no widely recognised industry bodies or institutes in improv that act as independent intermediaries, or that offer shared standards theatres can sign up to and be measured against. Some initiatives exist, but many are either not well known or limited to maintaining lists of reported problematic people. Without trusted independent structures, accountability often depends on the choices of individual theatres and leaders.

This is just one example of where accountability falls short in our community, but it is not the only one. A lack of accountability can also show up in how we respond to events in the wider world. Right now, we’re seeing multiple devastating conflicts globally, including in the Middle East and Russia’s ongoing war in Ukraine. Some communities have been more vocal than others in sharing support for victims of these conflicts, but it is easier to make statements about situations that don’t affect us directly than to examine the impact of our concrete choices.

Many improv organisations describe themselves as non‑political and say they do not welcome open political debate or prejudice in their spaces. But how would your theatre handle hosting, for example, a Russian improv teacher when you have Ukrainian improvisers in your community? That teacher is not a decision‑maker in the invasion of Ukraine and may well be opposed to it. Yet, as organisations, do we take time to consider how Ukrainian members of our community might feel about us hosting a Russian teacher without any prior engagement or context? Is the community aware of the stance this individual takes on such a horrific war, or are we asking people to silently swallow their discomfort?

These are two very different scenarios, but both highlight how a lack of accountability and communication can harm a community.

So what does it mean to hold ourselves to a higher standard of accountability?

We all have a part to play. Individuals in positions of authority and influence carry an even greater responsibility to demonstrate accountability and care for the communities they lead. That responsibility does not stop with theatre owners and festival producers. High‑profile performers and teachers also have influence, and with it, a responsibility to hold community leaders to account. That might mean being mindful of the theatres and festivals you choose to perform or teach at, and asking hard questions when those spaces repeatedly host or accommodate people known to cause harm.

People in positions of authority must treat complaints and concerns as a priority. Where there is a risk of bias or conflict of interest, they should step aside and bring in an independent person to investigate and follow up. I’m aware of situations over the years where complaints were handled by effectively counting how many people had come forward against a particular individual, as if the “validity” of a complaint could be measured by volume alone. This approach is dismissive and can be re‑traumatising for the person who reported the harm.

Theatres, communities and institutes should consider appointing advocates when a complaint is made. The advocate handles the admin work . That means handling emails, chasing responses, arranging meetings and tracking deadlines. This person should trained in handling complaints and issues. They should not be subject to undue influence by the institute’s decision makers nor suffer reprisal for their role.

When booking teachers or performers from countries involved in active conflicts, accountability also means doing due diligence. Have you considered whether you might be creating barriers or distress for members of your existing community? Have you communicated your thinking and the guest’s position clearly, rather than leaving community members to quietly navigate their reactions alone?

There is a lot to weigh up here, and there are no perfectly “clean” options. Accountability isn’t about punishment, it’s about care. That means being willing to listen, to name harm, to change course, and to hold ourselves and our friends, teachers, and favourite performers to the same standards we claim to value. Without that, we are not creating the safe spaces that improv promises, and that our communities deserve.