Mark Ravenhill: Yes, I&#39;d work for free

... But I'm not doing it for David Cameron's big society

Broadway musicals aren't necessarily the best place to look for wisdom. There aren't many practical clues to leading your life contained in show tunes. I've never attempted, as The Sound of Music recommends, to climb every mountain until I find my dream. Or waited until the end of the storm (thanks, Carousel) for the sound of the lark. But I have, until recently, followed one piece of Broadway wisdom very closely. Mama Rose from Gypsy seemed to hit it right when she counselled: "Some people got it and make it pay/Some people can't even give it away/ You either have it or you've had it."

Having made it into the tiny group of people who make their living from the stage, there was no way I was going to give any of my writing away. Pay for my words, or the show won't go on. I've got a determined agent who acts as my alter ego: I can be the dreaming artist while she gets in there and makes sure I get the best deal.

But recently I've been rethinking that approach. With the government dismantling much of our society at great speed, there is a real danger that theatre will be too slow to respond adequately. There's no time to wait for subsidisers, sponsors or investors: it seems to me that the theatre, alongside the students and the unions, has to start shouting loudly. And not just about art's case for public money, but about the destruction of a much wider society. Making theatre that's at the centre of national life, that's where the fight is, is more important and exciting than staying inside the safer walls of the subsidised theatre or attempting to make something significant in the commercial West End.

So I'm excited to be part of Theatre Uncut: a coalition (yes, let's reclaim that word) of playwrights who have written plays for free. I'm in good company: the writers include Lucy Kirkwood and Jack Thorne (both of whom have recently been produced at the National Theatre and also write for Channel 4's Skins) and Dennis Kelly, whose adaptation of Roald Dahl's Mathilda is currently a smash hit at the RSC. We've all written plays that can be downloaded for free by any group, amateur or professional, and performed as part of a part of a nationwide event on 19 March. Nearly 40 groups have already signed up and more are on the way.

"That's ironic," a young friend said to me the other day. "Here you are, protesting about the cuts by writing a play for free. What better example is there of the big society? You've played right into Cameron's hands."

Just as I was feeling rather pleased with myself for breaking Mama Rose's rule not to give it away, this came as an unsettling thought. And it wasn't the first time that I've heard somebody with left-leaning sympathies question a voluntary or charitable act as being a hostage to the big society. It seems there's a real danger that Cameron will claim anything done as an act of charity as proof of his rather underdeveloped idea ? that anything given as a gift, rather than sold as a transaction, will be seen as supporting the government's spending cuts.

But "charity" doesn't belong to either the right or the left. I've always enjoyed wandering into the charity shops where I live and seeing the unusual coalition (yes, that word again) of diverse volunteers. There's nearly always an elderly lady of (I assume) the Daily Mail-reading persuasion working the tills alongside a black-clad, nose-pierced young man who is (I assume) an anarchist and whose crucifix denotes Gothdom rather than church-going.

I rarely buy anything but I do browse for hours, just so I can enjoy their incongruous double act. It would be a great shame if their shared mission to sell tattered James Herbert novels and acrylic cardigans in support of the developing world were to be politicised. There's a lovely political truce going on between the old lady and the anarchist, and a real danger that if they are claimed for the big society the truce will break down and the charity shop will cease to function.

I still remember Francis Maude squirming last July when Eddie Mair asked him about his contribution to the big society. Maude was holding forth on the PM programme. The usual stuff ? how we all had to see ourselves as citizens who should do far more than simply pay our taxes and obey the law. Then Mair asked the killer question: "What volunteering do you do?" Maude was utterly floored. "I do ? golly, what do I do? Umm, a whole load of things. I'm involved in my local church. Um, gosh, that's a really unfair question cold."

Clearly, people are volunteering all over the country, many of them with leftwing sympathies but also plenty on the right. It must be galling for them to hear a cabinet member talking about the big society who can't name one voluntary group that he's involved with. Mair's was the perfect question: alongside a declaration of their business interests, every single MP who tells us to be part of the big society should be asked how many hours of voluntary work they are doing. If they can't provide a detailed list, they should shut up about their big society.

There's a strong romantic streak in most people with leftwing sympathies. We're attracted to the idea of escaping the cash nexus. I've often wondered what it would be like if the audience could see a play of mine for free. This summer, I'm going to get a chance to try it out. My adaptation of Brecht's The Mother is playing at the open air theatre the Scoop, on London's Southbank. It seems the right time to stage Brecht's 1932 play about the politicisation of a working-class mother, with protest happening on UK streets and full-scale revolution in the Middle East. The performances will be free of charge and unticketed. I'm fascinated to see what the relationship of the audience is to the play when they haven't paid a penny (and rather terrifyingly, can walk away at any moment).

But I'm uncomfortable that many of the subsidised theatres I work in use unpaid interns. Theatres declare their commitment to equal opportunities but then give the first foot on the ladder to those who can afford to work for months without pay. Increasingly, too, theatre relies on the unpaid fringe as a training ground for new talent. Young writers, actors and directors are frequently expected to spend several years on fringe work before paid employment ? it's a system that favours those with a trust fund. Many talented young people drop out of the theatre business because they can't afford to do it for free. Making it pay, giving it away: it's a delicate balance. And I'm not sure that Mama Rose or David Cameron have got it quite right.

Mark Ravenhill

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