The Venice Biennale is the most prestigious recurring event in contemporary art, often described as the Olympics of the art world.
The most prestigious prize of the sprawling international exhibition is the Golden Lion for best national participation. The Golden and Silver Lions are awarded by the biennale jury, a rotating panel of international curators and critics.
On April 22, the jury announced Russia and Israel would not be considered for awards. They collectively resigned eight days later – nine days before the opening of this year’s biennale.
This moment marks the unravelling of a long-standing fiction: that art institutions can remain separate from politics.
The jury’s refusal to award prizes
No official explanation was given for the jury’s resignation, but their resignation statement said it was “in acknowledgment” of their intention statement that “this jury will refrain from considering those countries whose leaders are currently charged with crimes against humanity by the International Criminal Court”.
In practice, this would have affected Russia and Israel.
This exclusion exposes a fundamental inconsistency: if nations can take part, on what basis are they denied prizes?
The bienniale is structured around national representation. Participation confers recognition of a country’s standing within the international art world. Allowing countries to exhibit but excluding them from awards is inconsistent.
For critics of the presence of Israel and Russia, inclusion constitutes complicity. For defenders of artistic autonomy, withholding awards on geopolitical grounds undermines the claim of institutional neutrality.
The jury’s resignation suggested no coherent position was possible.
The biennale has always been political
Founded in 1895, the Venice Biennale began as a civic initiative to promote Italian art and attract tourism.
From 1907, with the introduction of national pavilions, it became an international exhibition functioning as cultural diplomacy.
Of the 100 countries that participate, 30 have a permanent exhibition space. This has included Russia since 1914 and Israel since 1952. Other countries exhibit in various venues across Venice.
Each country’s participation is represented through curated artistic production. Flags, borders and diplomatic recognition are built into the exhibition’s logic.
Such a setup produces a fundamental contradiction. The bienniale claims to operate apart from geopolitics – but it is an institution structured through state representation.
In periods of relative global stability, this contradiction could be contained. Disputes arose – over inclusion, representation or censorship – but rarely threatened the institution’s stability.
Today, that balance can no longer hold.
The war in Ukraine, conflicts in the Middle East and increasing geopolitical polarisation have made neutrality itself appear as a political position.
A loss of authority?
The involvement of the Italian government and the European Union further complicates matters.
While formally acknowledging the biennale’s autonomy, Italian officials have opposed Russia’s participation and signalled pressure through administrative scrutiny.
The European Union withdrew a €2 million grant in response to Russia’s inclusion.
These actions from the EU and from Italy make clear the Venice Biennale’s independence is limited. Reliance on external funding lets political actors exert influence by threatening to withdraw support or increasing scrutiny.
The bienniale’s jurors decide on prizes. When the basis for those decisions becomes entangled in a wider political dispute, they are placed in a difficult position. Withdrawal becomes a way of refusing to confer legitimacy through awards.
This year, the biennale will replace the jury-awarded Golden and Silver Lions with “Visitors’ Lions”, to be voted on by attendees and presented in November.
Italian cabinet minister Matteo Salvini described the change as “democratic”. He frames the shift as one that transfers authority from a select jury to visitors. This treats wider participation as a more legitimate basis for judgement.
Although such a move appears philosophical, it was the only viable option. It allows the exhibition to continue without resolving the underlying conflict. The awards will be transformed into collective choices, rather than critical judgements.
The biennale’s authority rests on its historical role as a site of judgement, where expert evaluation through juries and awards shapes contemporary art discourse.
This year, that function will be suspended, and the awards will be grounded in preference rather than critique. Does this mean the exhibition will become more open, or simply less authoritative?
The difficulty of ‘neutrality’
The jury’s resignation is not simply a breakdown of decision-making. It also exposes the flawed belief that culture can stand apart from politics, and institutions can operate independently of state influence.
This breakdown is not unique to the cultural institutions. It reflects a broader shift affecting also institutions that produce knowledge and interpretation. We have seen this story repeated at universities, research bodies and cultural organisations.
Under conditions of political conflict, these institutions are increasingly subject to pressures that make claims to neutrality more difficult to sustain.
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