Europe keeps opening its doors to Russian propaganda
At the Venice Biennale, one of the world's most storied stages for cultural diplomacy, the question of who deserves representation — and at what moral cost — has broken through the surface of art into open confrontation. Pussy Riot and allied activists descended on the Russian pavilion in pink balaclavas and smoke, carrying the names of the dead into a space draped in celebration. Their protest joins a widening chorus of resignations, boycotts, and institutional ruptures that suggest the Biennale can no longer hold the contradictions of a world at war inside the frame of aesthetic neutrality.
- Pussy Riot stormed the Russian pavilion with flares, punk music, and slogans written on their bodies — 'Curated by Putin, dead bodies included' — forcing its temporary closure on the second day of preview week.
- The European Commission had already warned Italy that Russian participation may breach EU sanctions, while the Biennale's entire jury resigned before the festival opened, citing legal exposure tied to countries whose leaders face international arrest warrants.
- A separate protest locked the Israeli pavilion from the inside, and over two hundred Biennale participants signed a letter demanding its cancellation, deepening a crisis that now spans two geopolitical fronts.
- The British government broke with tradition by sending no minister to its own pavilion's opening, while nearly twenty exhibiting artists reportedly planned to picket their own national entries on Friday.
- What began as a cultural festival has become a referendum on complicity — artists, workers, and governments forced to answer whether presence in the same space as certain states constitutes endorsement of their actions.
The Russian pavilion at the Venice Biennale went dark during preview week after Pussy Riot arrived with pink balaclavas, flares, and slogans painted across their bodies. Around forty activists, including members of Femen, lit coloured smoke and blasted punk music while chanting lines like 'Russia kills, biennale exhibits' and draping a Ukrainian flag around a statue outside. Police held the entrance; no arrests were made, but the scene stopped the festival in its tracks.
Nadya Tolokonnikova, Pussy Riot's founding member, said she had been shaken the day before by the sight of prosecco crates being unloaded inside the Russian pavilion while techno played — celebration at close quarters with catastrophe. She called on the Biennale's president to refuse Russian funding and meet with protesters. The group also offered, pointedly, to curate the Russian pavilion themselves in 2028, filling it with work by artists held in Russian prisons.
The protest crystallised tensions weeks in the making. The European Commission had reportedly warned Italy that Russian participation risked violating EU sanctions. The Biennale's jury had already resigned en masse before opening day, unwilling to judge entries from nations whose leaders face international arrest warrants — a threshold that would exclude both Russia and Israel. Jury members were later told they could face personal legal liability if Israel pursued the matter.
The British government registered its own dissent through absence, sending no minister to the UK pavilion's opening — a break from tradition. Elsewhere in the Arsenale, the Art Not Genocide Alliance locked the Israeli pavilion from inside while protesters gathered outside; more than two hundred Biennale participants had signed a letter demanding its cancellation.
By Friday, coordinated demonstrations involving Italian labour unions, art workers, and nearly twenty exhibiting artists were expected, with some planning to picket their own pavilions. The Biennale — long a celebration of expression across borders — had become something else entirely: a stage where the cost of representation could no longer be aestheticized away.
The Russian pavilion at the Venice Biennale went dark on the second day of preview week after Pussy Riot arrived with pink balaclavas, flares, and a message written across their bodies: "Curated by Putin, dead bodies included."
About forty activists, including members of the feminist group Femen, descended on the pavilion in the early afternoon. They lit pink, blue, and yellow flares while punk music blared from speakers they'd brought. The slogans came rapid and pointed—"Blood is Russia's Art," "Russia kills, biennale exhibits," "Russian art, Ukrainian blood." A Ukrainian flag was wrapped around a statue outside. Police lined the pavilion entrance and pushed back those who tried to force their way in. No arrests were made, though the scene drew bewildered crowds of visitors who had queued for hours just to enter the festival grounds.
Nadya Tolokonnikova, a founding member of Pussy Riot, had been appalled by what she witnessed the day before: staff loading crates of prosecco into the Russian space while techno music pumped through the pavilion. The contrast—celebration inside, war outside—was unbearable to her. She called out the contradiction she saw in Europe's stance. "It's weird to me that Europe keeps saying that Ukraine is a shield for the entire European continent but it opens its doors time and time again to Russian propaganda," she said. "It's heartbreaking for me." She asked the biennale's president to reject Russian funding and meet with the protesters. In a statement, Pussy Riot offered to curate the Russian pavilion in 2028 themselves, featuring work by artists imprisoned in Russian correctional facilities.
The protest was the most visible eruption of tensions that had been building for weeks. The European Commission had warned Italy and the biennale's organizers that allowing Russia to participate would violate EU sanctions, according to reporting by the Financial Times. The biennale's jury—responsible for awarding the Golden Lion prizes—had resigned en masse before the festival even opened. Their stated reason: they would not judge entries from countries whose leaders faced international arrest warrants, a standard that would exclude both Russia and Israel. An Italian news outlet later reported that the jury members had been told by the biennale's legal team they could face personal legal liability if Israel pursued the matter. The biennale confirmed this account to the Guardian.
The British government made its own statement through absence. No minister attended the opening of the British pavilion, breaking with tradition. The British Council, which manages the UK's entry, proceeded without official government representation. A spokesperson for the Department for Media, Culture and Sport said the UK "strongly opposes Russia's participation" and stands with Ukraine against "more than four years of illegal Russian aggression."
Within an hour of Pussy Riot's action, another group called the Art Not Genocide Alliance staged a demonstration outside the Israeli pavilion in the Arsenale, locking the doors from inside while protesters gathered at the entrance. More than two hundred participants in the biennale had signed a letter demanding the Israeli pavilion be cancelled, calling it a platform for a state "committing genocide" in Gaza. Israel's foreign ministry responded by condemning the alliance's actions as "anti-Israeli political indoctrination" and "direct discrimination."
Friday was expected to bring a coordinated demonstration involving Italian labour unions, art workers, curators, and nearly twenty artists with work displayed in national pavilions. Some artists were reportedly planning to create picket lines outside their own pavilions and ask visitors not to enter. The biennale, traditionally a celebration of artistic expression across borders, had become a flashpoint for geopolitical conflict—a stage where the question of who gets to be represented, and at what cost, could no longer be ignored or aestheticized away.
Citações Notáveis
It's weird to me that Europe keeps saying that Ukraine is a shield for the entire European continent but it opens its doors time and time again to Russian propaganda. It's heartbreaking for me.— Nadya Tolokonnikova, founding member of Pussy Riot
The UK strongly opposes Russia's participation at the Venice Biennale. We stand in solidarity with the people of Ukraine who have endured more than four years of illegal Russian aggression.— UK government spokesperson
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did Pussy Riot choose the Venice Biennale specifically? Why not protest somewhere else?
Because the biennale is where the world's art establishment gathers. It's where legitimacy is conferred. By allowing Russia a pavilion, Venice was saying to the world that Russian culture deserves a seat at the table—even as Russian bombs fall on Ukrainian cities. That's the contradiction they wanted to expose.
But isn't art supposed to be separate from politics?
That's what people say when they want to avoid the question. But there's no separation. Choosing to include Russia is a political act. Choosing to exclude it is also political. The biennale can't escape politics by pretending it's just about art.
What did Tolokonnikova mean about Europe being a shield for Ukraine?
She was pointing out the hypocrisy. European leaders say Ukraine is defending European values and territory. But then those same European institutions keep opening doors to Russian money and Russian culture. It's hard to claim solidarity while doing business as usual.
Did the protest actually change anything?
The pavilion closed temporarily. The biennale had to respond. But more importantly, it forced the conversation into the open. The jury had already resigned. Now artists are planning boycotts. The festival can't pretend it's apolitical anymore.
What happens to the biennale now?
It becomes a test case. If artists and workers follow through on the boycotts, if the protests continue, the biennale's credibility as a neutral space for art gets seriously damaged. And that matters because other institutions will be watching.