The future of festivals

There was a moment, in that sunlit spring of 2020, when it felt as though we would never be able to hold a festival again. Group gatherings were banned, and the heart of what a festival is – a shared, collective experience – seemed impossible.

Covid revealed just how vulnerable festivals are. A year’s worth of planning is distilled into ten precious days. If it can’t go ahead, whether due to a pandemic, a storm or a funding crisis, everything is lost.

Charleston made the difficult decision to close that year, with only a skeleton staff remaining. Despite the precariousness of our situation, lockdown offered a strange gift: the chance to stop, to get off the treadmill of endless deadlines. It gave us time to accelerate our thinking about who we are – and most importantly, who we are for.

Sometimes when you stand to lose everything, you see most clearly what matters.

Championing new voices

Charleston, situated at the foot of the South Downs in Sussex, has always been a place of radical thought. The Bloomsbury group gathered here to explore new ways of working, living and loving. Their pursuit of intellectual and personal freedom underpinned everything they did.

That same ethos informs our festival today. One of the oldest literary festivals in the UK, we are now in our 36th year, with 50 events over 11 glorious days in May. Our programme spans disciplines and artforms, from literature and art to politics, philosophy and fashion.

High Court judges share the stage with queer performance artists; Hollywood royalty with emerging novelists; Nobel Prize winners with resistance leaders and fashion designers.

One of the things that makes Charleston Festival stand out is our commitment to commissioning. In a world where it’s increasingly difficult to make a living in the arts, and where commissioning opportunities are rare, this support is one of the ways we champion both established and emerging voices.

A long tradition of resistance

Literary festivals are more than just platforms for ideas; they offer visibility, community and momentum for writers. In a fast-moving world, writers’ ability to help us make sense of these times has never felt more needed.

A key part of programming a festival is the ability to look ahead and imagine what the world will be talking about in six months or a year’s time. When we sat down last summer to shape the 2025 programme, we were drawn to the idea of consensus, civility and the search for common ground. But as the programme unfolded, a different theme became inescapable: resistance.

Charleston has a long tradition of resistance. The Bloomsbury group came here during the First World War as conscientious objectors. As a queer community at a time when homosexuality was criminalised, they lived with the very real threat of imprisonment. Feminism was another central thread in their lives and thinking – radical then, and still urgent today.

Continues…

Photo: Emma Croman

Confronting new questions

100 years on, the world seems as overwhelming and unstable as it was then. We are living through a time of social and political turbulence – of polarised opinion, growing authoritarianism and restrictions on freedom of speech and liberty.

In this climate, the role of literary festivals – and the writers they platform – feels more vital than ever. Though they may sometimes carry a reputation for being sedate and dominated by an older crowd, they hold a remarkable potency.

They create a rare space for dialogue, a place to explore complex issues with nuance, empathy and depth. At their best, festivals are places of curiosity and connection, where disagreement doesn’t mean division, and where difficult ideas can be held with care. For all that, this year we’re confronting questions that felt unthinkable even a year ago. The cultural landscape is shifting, and with it come difficult but necessary conversations.

What is the ripple effect of growing censorship pressures in the US? Could the push to ban books in British schools and libraries reach festivals like ours? What kind of hostility or backlash might our programme attract – and how do we prepare for it? Increasingly, artists and speakers are asking about safety and security, and we must be ready with answers.

Being bold isn’t a risk

Recent audience development work shows our visitors care deeply about our commitment to inclusivity – something echoed by our funders. In this climate, being bold in our programming and open about our values isn’t a risk; the real risk lies in treading a middle ground of timidity or caution.

One of the most promising developments in recent years has been the emergence of a younger, broader audience. Our £10 ticket scheme for under-30s has played a key role in making the festival more accessible for younger people. It’s been exciting to see these new audiences engage with us, bringing fresh energy and reaffirming the relevance of our programme.

With rising costs and uncertain funding, some festivals face the very real threat of closure. It’s a tough environment. Charleston is a charity, and every penny – whether through ticket sales, trusts and foundations, individual support or commercial activities – is hard-won. Yet, there are still opportunities – particularly for organisations that remain true to their values – to take a progressive approach and have a clear vision for the future.

The future brings pressures that, until recently, felt beyond imagining. But by remaining bold in our programming and clear in our values, literary festivals can continue to be spaces of provocation, imagination and hope.

Charleston Festival of art and ideas runs from 14 to 26 May 2025.