As investigations into political tampering with the 2016 US election on Facebook have made headlines and perhaps spurred corporate introspection, one would hope that the company is in the process of tightening its ad controls. Given the huge importance of social media company in the world’s communications, we can ill afford to have false information circulating that undermines democracy – or that supports racist and hate-filled positions.

But even if Facebook is placing ads under more scrutiny, it’s still pretty difficult to understand what led them to ban ads for a production of Sondheim and Weidman’s musical Assassins, currently underway at NextStop Theatre in Virginia, a professional non-Equity company. In the behemoth of Facebook, a single ad may well just have gotten caught up in the gears, but for NextStop, it denies one of their primary advertising platforms, one of the very few where they can deploy video.

Here’s the spot in question:

Matthew Thompson, managing director of NextStop, said that when they first deployed the ad, it was on their event page for the production, distinct from their company page. They did pay for a sponsored post, and at that time Thompson said that, “There were no issues with it. It was posted and approved almost instantaneously.”

However, when the company posted a slightly revised version, simply to accommodate a different aspect ratio for the video and tighten up the length, they looked carefully at the advisories about ad content. Upon submission, the ad resulted in a response from Facebook that noted “ad sets that use targeting terms related to social, religious or political reviews may require additional review” and also saying that “it looks like your ad may be for housing, employment or credit opportunities.”

None of these factors really came into play with the Assassins ad, so NextStop opted to take Facebook up on their offer of a manual review, since that would show that they hadn’t run afoul of any of these concerns. But instead, that yielded the denial of approval, but on the grounds that, “Your ad can’t include images that depict a person’s body as ideal or undesirable.”

Facebook’s inconsistencies here are considerable. As it happens, the Assassins ad is composed entirely of still images – many of which have been posted to Facebook by the company without complaint. In fact, the video itself hasn’t been removed from Facebook – but the company isn’t permitted to boost it to a broader audience by using it as an ad, meaning it is only going to be seen if someone seeks it out on their page, or turn up in people’s feeds through organic reach, known to be fairly limiting for those with company pages that don’t advertise.

Does the Assassins ad have an attractive woman in it? Yes, Mackenzie Newbury, who plays The Proprietor. Is she idealized? That’s a judgment, but the ad doesn’t present her as a paragon of anything, except perhaps as a representation of America and Americana, with her red, white and blue outfit. There is a quick tight glimpse of her lips, a flash of thigh, but they’re not particularly salacious; some might rightly view this as objectification – and if that is being eradicated from Facebook then it must be applied consistently. But certainly Facebook runs more expensively and slickly produced ads with attractive women in them.

Arts Integrity has reached out to the press office at Facebook for an explanation of what has transpired with the NextStop ad, and received a response saying that the issue was being explored and they would respond as soon as possible. The best possible response would be for them to say that upon further review, the NextStop ad has been cleared.

Over the years, social media platforms have often taken the position that they are merely conduits, and not responsible for what is posted unless something is clearly illegal. But now that it has been shown how the services can be manipulated, it’s important that ad content is vetted and content complaints are investigated. But they also need to take care that in policing their house and addressing violations of their terms of service, they’re not preventing individuals and companies that rely on them for their livelihoods are getting caught up in nets meant to capture bad actors, and not good theatre companies.

Update, October 20, 4 pm: Three hours after Arts Integrity’s initial e-mail to Facebook’s press office, two hours after Arts Integrity was informed that the issue of the NextStop ad for Assassins would be looked into, and one hour after this post went live, NextStop was notified that their ad had been accepted and would begin to run.

There was no further response to Arts Integrity about the issues that led to the ad being blocked.

Update, October 21, 7 am: Last evening, shortly after 7 pm, NextStop was again notified by Facebook that its ad has been disapproved.

This follows a 6:30 pm e-mail from Facebook’s PR department to Arts Integrity noting that the ad had been approved, and that on Monday, the press contact could “explain what has happened here.”

Update, October 22, 2017 11 am: Following yesterday’s disapproval, Matthew Thompson discovered, on Facebook’s desktop interface, a more detailed explanation of why the ad had been denied. It read:

“Your ad wasn’t approved because ads should clearly reflect the product or service being advertised rather than focus on a body part (ex: teeth, abs, acne). Using images of zoomed-in body parts typically evokes a negative reaction from viewers. Learn more about our Advertising Policies.

How to fix: We suggest promoting your product or service without using a zoomed-in body image.

If you think your ad follows our Advertising Policies, you can appeal this disapproval.”

Given the carnival atmosphere of the ad in question, one might wish to simply chalk this up as a comedy of errors. But it is a microcosm of the challenges of having information consolidated within the control of too few hands, especially when the ability to communicate is arbitrarily or erratically denied. While this instance pertains to arts marketing, across the massive universe of Facebook, it’s impossible to know what else might be getting censored, and how such situations are – or are not – being resolved.

This post will be updated the situation warrants.

The Woodsman at New World Stages (Photo by Howard Sherman)

During the curtain calls, I watched, as I so often do, while ushers made a valiant effort to stop theatregoers from taking pictures. So imagine my surprise when, barely minutes later, with the cast off to their dressing rooms, the house staff made no attempts to stop patrons from photographing the play’s final tableau, which was unshielded by a curtain and still under moody stage lighting.

I approached a woman who appeared to have a house management function and asked whether it was okay that everyone was taking pictures. “Oh, yes. It’s fine,” she replied.

So I waited my turn as people took selfies of themselves in front of the stage, with The Woodsman (the title character of the show in question and an analogue for The Wizard of Oz’s Tin Man) hanging suspended under the lights, waiting for Dorothy Gale to discover him. But that’s another story.

I found this approach to audience photos quite smart. So much time is spent (and digital ink spilled) addressing how the field can suppress the audience’s urge to commemorate their theatrical experience, that to find the opportunity freely given was extremely refreshing. I wonder how much extra exposure The Woodsman, playing in a small Off-Broadway house, is receiving thanks to this policy. How many patrons walk away from their final moments in the theatre having been welcomed and encouraged, with a truly personal souvenir to show and share, rather than chastised?

To be clear: I want to see phones turned off and cameras put away (often the same thing) throughout performances, to keep from disrupting the actors and other audience members. But I can’t help but wonder whether people might be more compliant with the de rigeur ‘turn off your phone’ messages if they included the invitation to turn them on again and use them after the curtain calls have ended.

Shows with curtains that wish to shield their stages can do so, of course, but why are patrons also prevented from taking pictures of the venues themselves? There are so many beautiful theatres that would turn up regularly on Instagram, Snapchat and Facebook if openly allowed – surely some, shot with varying degrees of stealth, already do. I would love the opportunity to photograph theatre interiors both here in New York as well as when I travel; West End theatres are distinctly different from most Broadway houses and I’d like to be able to have and electronically exhibit my impressions of them, up to and including fire curtains, which we don’t see stateside.

Some Broadway shows have created photo spots outside their theatres, and I’ve encountered one or two in lobbies, but those are obviously manufactured opportunities. We may not care for the selfie society (feel free to check my Facebook page; you’ll find very few images of me), but it’s a part of how people share their experiences nowadays. Why should theatre work so very hard to control what is let out of the walls of our theatres when our audiences are so eager to communicate on our behalf.

I appreciate the concern that unauthorised photos and videos may reveal so much of the show that knock-off versions can be replicated by unscrupulous or amateur producers. But don’t most shows already disseminate enough media to facilitate that already? Indeed, the biggest hits produce lavish souvenir programmes and even hardcover books, filled with pictures and even representations of original design sketches. I’m not convinced that this remains valid as a reason for prohibiting all photos within theatre houses or of show curtains or final stage settings.

One of the many concerns about the continued vitality of theatre is its ability to compete in media markets where exposure is simply too expensive for shows to make a significant impression, if they can afford to make one at all. Since word of mouth remains an essential sales tool, let’s think about how we can facilitate that by, within reason, allowing cameras to come out. After all, that one simple gesture would empower the audience to be advocates and not just attendees, actively promoting shows simply because they want to.

By the way: that photo of The Woodsman at the top of this column. I took it with my mobile phone. Not bad, eh?

This essay originally appeared in The Stage.

“Is there a link for this so I can read the whole thing if there’s more?”

“Maybe this wants to grow up and become a blog post?”

“I’ve been encouraging him to do so!!!!”

“This, I feel, is not just a statement for theater folk, but a life statement, a ‘how are you living in the world’ statement.”

The quotes above have all been written in the past 24 hours or so in response to a comment I made on Facebook – not a blog post, not an essay, but a comment, although admittedly not a short one. The response is gratifying, even as I feel awkward about repeating some of the positive remarks it engendered.

I share them because there’s been a lot of likes and shares and comments for a short burst I essentially blurted out on Wednesday afternoon, after seeing an array of responses to American Theatre editor Rob Weinert-Kendt’s apology for aspects of his Monday post about The Mikado and the heinous practice of yellowface. My comment was not about either of Rob’s pieces, but rather some of the defenses of yellowface that they elicited, and outright attacks on those who seek to abolish it. I stand, as I made clear several weeks ago in my own blog post, with the latter group.

Much as I stare at my comment, I don’t see how I can expand it. It addresses multiple issues on which I speak and write frequently, composed directly in one of those Facebook comment boxes, borne of anger and empathy, effective in its terseness. I feel that trying to elaborate upon it will only reduce it, though I appreciate the appeals of those who would like there to be more. I have to thank my friend and colleague Jacqueline Lawton, who lifted it out of the comments section and reiterated it as a Facebook post on her timeline, for getting it more attention that it would have otherwise received.

Because the Facebook algorithm is a mercurial beast, and it’s impossible to know who may have seen the comment, or how long it will be floating around in people’s feeds, I share it now, unedited, primarily as a means of preserving a relatively off-the-cuff cri de coeur – despite my concerns, that in my haste, I did not properly differentiate between my use of the terms “race” and “ethnicity,” even though I should know better.

“One of the great fallacies employed by those who resist making the American theatre more diverse is that when opening up traditionally or even specifically white roles to people of color, it should be a two way street – that if black, API, Latino, and Native Americans can play Willy Loman or Hedda Gabler, white actors should be able to perform in the works of August Wilson. That’s nonsense. The whole point of diversifying our theatre is not to give white artists yet more opportunities, but to try to address the systemic imbalance, and indeed exclusion, that artists of color, artists with disabilities and even non-male artists have experienced. Of course, when it comes to roles specifically written for POC, those roles should be played by actors of that race or ethnicity – and again, not reducing it to the level of only Italians should play Italians and only Jews should plays Jews, but that no one should be painting their faces to pretend to an ethnicity which is obviously not theirs, while denying that opportunity to people of that race. To those who would claim that our theatre isn’t centered around white men, look no further than the results of the Dramatists Guild’s The Count, which shows that four out of every five plays produced in America is by a white man. As for those who charge racism on the part of people striving for equality in the 21st century, I would suggest you don’t fully appreciate the racial struggles that have been part of this country’s original sin since Europeans began eradicating Native Americans and forcibly bringing Africans to these shores as slaves. Perhaps those in theatre can’t ever hope to directly redress this history, but we can at least seek to model a better world in our work and on our stages. And certainly we can do better than to engage in ad hominem attacks and threats against others in our field who seek equality.”

Will I say more on this subject? Absolutely. It’s become very central to my belief about the world of the arts, and the world at large. But as someone who usually goes on too long about just about everything, I’d like to stick with atypical brevity, hoping it provokes more conversation, more writing, more thinking about how we can all do better at embracing everyone who seeks a role in the arts. And if my few sentences above prove at all useful, they’re yours to employ in the good fight for diversity and inclusion.

P.S. Because advocates can have a tendency to become single-minded and even humorless in their pursuits, I must share with you my favorite response to my squib of a doctrine, among the many I read, courtesy of the dreaded auto-correct: “Wow! That’s it in a buttshell!!”

Howard Sherman is interim director of the Alliance for Inclusion in the Arts.

I am going to take it for granted that, since you’ve opted to read this article, you care about the arts. I’m also going to save time and typing by assuming that you appreciate media coverage of the arts and that you realize that without the attention of the media, it will be ever harder for the arts to share their news, their work and their value locally, nationally and internationally.

Since we are agreed, I will proceed directly to my point.

If you want to see intelligent, comprehensive coverage of the arts – features and reviews alike – then you’ve got to start clicking. Journalism is well on its way to being a numbers game for most outlets. How many people clicked on a story or video, how many times was it liked or shared, how much time was spent looking at it? We are already seeing journalism sites paying writers base salaries with bumps or bonuses based on online metrics; outlets say they are dropping certain types of coverage because it’s simply not generating enough traffic. It’s not enough to be happy that arts coverage exists, you have to actually engage with it to insure its survival and the job survival of those who create it.

Clicks mean eyes and eyes mean advertisers. As print becomes an ever-harder sell, online advertising grows ever more important to outlets. Even back in the days pre-internet, I encountered cuts in arts coverage because the arts didn’t generate enough advertising revenue (whereas advertisers loved sports sections and we get regular features about new cars because auto dealers buy big ads). Even now, arts spending online is a small sliver of online advertising, so our best means of supporting arts coverage is by actually reading it.

Let’s face it: anyone with a WordPress blog knows how many people read each piece they post (yes, I’m watching you). But that’s amateur hour compared to the realtime and cumulative algorithms and analytics applied at big media outlets. There are teams of people looking at clicks, links and likes for every story, and media empires are being built on click-bait methodology (why, hello BuzzFeed). It’s running the show in many places and it can’t be ignored.

So here’s what I propose. Every morning, when you get online, go to the arts section of your local media outlets, seek out their arts and entertainment stories, and click of them. Don’t click on each in rapid succession, but spend 30 to 45 seconds on each one (remember your multiple browser windows). You have to wait a bit because one analytic is stickiness or hang-time or whatever it’s called now, namely whether people are really engaging with coverage. A click on and immediate click off looks like you got there by mistake. And needless to say, it certainly won’t hurt in the least if you actually read a story or watch a video while you’re at it.

I should also note that just liking or retweeting a story isn’t enough: you actually have to look at it. Sometimes you’re just liking a friend posting about a story, not the story or video itself, and that’s an important difference. There have been studies that show that many people retweet items without ever actually reading them, and anecdotally I know that to be true: I often see my own tweets with embedded links that have more retweets than clicks. You’ve got to stop and look. That said, on Facebook likes and shares feed into an algorithm that’s sure more people might see the post featured in their feed, and retweets do the same, so be liberal with those too.

You need to share this idea with your staffs, your audience, your donors. This can’t be an effort by a couple of thousand core die-hards; this has to be a movement and it has to be sustained. I do my part every day in curating the articles I share on my twitter feed. You don’t need to be as exhaustive as I am, but whether you seek out a story or if it comes across your social media feed, click on it (often click on opera and symphony stories even though I rarely attend them). If the arts generate eyes, if they generate numbers, you’re going to have a direct impact on how the arts are viewed by the media decision makers. Clicking on the occasional ad next to an arts story matters too.

I’d like to give this idea some snappy name that the field can adopt, but I’m only coming up with corny and possibly inexplicable ideas like “Click 10 For The Arts,” which in my mind is shorthand for remind you to click on 10 arts stories daily. I hope that if people buy into this idea, someone will come up with something clever.

But unlike the world of journalism 25 years ago, where outlets only knew how many papers they sold, it’s now exceedingly easy to know what gets traffic and what doesn’t. No need for audience surveys when our every move online is recorded. If we don’t actively work to pump up the stats for arts coverage, it’ll continue to erode.

To quote Joni Mitchell, “you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til its gone,” and we’ve lost too much already. So next time you want to take a quiz about what Shakespeare villain or what Sondheim character you are, at least spend the equivalent amount of time reading articles about Shakespeare plays or Sondheim shows. Because while the former may be fun, it’s the latter that will actually sustain arts journalism and sustain the arts.

P.S. Thanks for clicking on this story. Now would you be so kind to like it, favorite it, share it, retweet it and so on? And yes, I’ll know if you did.

While the arts are often notoriously slow adopters of new technology, the rapid rise of social media would seem to dictate that commercial theatre jump on the bandwagon and hold on tight.

But social media may be best suited for use by subsidised companies, rather than the shows that populate the West End and Broadway.

Certainly, every show has the basics in place, a Facebook page, a Twitter feed and so on, in addition to the now de rigeur website. But producers and their marketing teams seem to view most social media as an extension of advertising or PR, feeding out casting announcements, special ticket offers and ‘exclusive’ photos and video all directed at driving sales.

The problem is that for most productions, especially early in their runs, there aren’t necessarily enough people who have followed or liked the show to read what’s on offer, and the content is often repurposed for other uses, diluting the impact that ‘exclusivity’ might still carry.

Shows appear drawn to the media portion of this new manner of communications, when it is the social aspect that is most innovative and compelling. Social platforms offer rapid and direct communications with individuals, but the fact is that people engage most with those who actually engage with, or entertain, them. It may take place on an overwhelming scale when it comes to major celebrities, but in the theatre, it’s quite easy for fans to strike up conversations with stars, writers, designers, directors and even critics – something virtually unimaginable a decade ago. So, if shows don’t actually engage with their audiences beyond tarted-up press announcements, they’re dropping the ball.

Of course, the challenge is how creative on an ongoing basis any one show can be, since they’re a relatively fixed offering (people, on the other hand, can have remarkably varied day-to-day lives) and how much  they’re willing to invest to be socially rather than sales-oriented, focusing on the long game rather than immediate gain. Except for a very small portion of the audience,  attendance at a commercial show is a one-off event, not an ongoing commitment, seemingly at odds with the basis of social media. The building of relationships afforded by social media can create a stronger bond for an ongoing company producing an array of works over months or years.

In 2009, when social media was still working its way into public consciousness, the Broadway production of Next to Normal garnered great attention and achieved a remarkable million followers through two initiatives. It offered one night “live-tweeting” the plot of the entire show for anyone who cared to follow. Shorn of songs and even most dialogue, they were serialising an outline in real time, but it was a distinctive effort that marked the show as creative and tantalised people with the framework of a show they might then choose to see in real life.

Next to Normal also ran a campaign in which Twitter followers were encouraged to make suggestions for a new song for the show, creating a connection directly with the authors, who did indeed write a song based on suggestions. While it wasn’t added to the finished work, fans could hear it online. It’s a shame that, since the account still has 946,000 following (though it is closed), it hasn’t tweeted since April of last year, leaving a huge untapped base of potential ticket buyers for other productions.

Despite the efforts and success of Next to Normal, social media still seems an afterthought for most Broadway shows. In a survey of Broadway theatres in early May, prompts to interact with the show through social media activity (primarily Facebook, Twitter and Instagram) were on display at 15 theatres – yet a nearly equal number (14) had no such reminders in their front of theatre or box office lobby displays (a number of theatres had no tenants at the time). A few showed real initiative in advocating social media use (a photo backdrop outside the Lunt-Fontanne for Motown; a ‘photo stop’ in the upper lobby of the Gershwin for Wicked).

Unfortunately, others simply displayed social platform logos without the specific names used by the shows in those arenas, so one would have to seek them out; it’s akin to posting ‘we have a website’ instead of giving a URL.

If productions don’t feel that social media gives them sufficient bang for their buck, perhaps they shouldn’t establish a presence only to give it short shrift. On the other hand, as some shows are demonstrating, with a little thought, a show can build its profile at a proportionately low cost, amplifying the power of the ever essential word of mouth, so long as they’re willing to commit to subtly promoting their presence by offering intriguing content and damping down the urge to shout “BUY NOW”.