From Podium to Propagandist: Gergiev’s Role in Putin’s Empire

Today’s announcement that Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney has imposed sanctions on Valery Gergiev and others in Vladimir Putin’s inner circle—following a conversation with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy—is not just a symbolic political move. It is a powerful recognition of a long-ignored truth: that the arts, like every other sector of public life, are deeply entangled with power, propaganda, and accountability.

Gergiev isn’t just any conductor. For years, he has been one of the most prominent cultural ambassadors of the Russian Federation, using his position in the global classical music world to launder the image of an authoritarian regime. He has openly supported Putin’s policies—including the illegal annexation of Crimea—and conducted concerts in support of military aggression, including one disturbingly staged in the ruins of Palmyra after it was retaken by Assad’s forces with Russian backing.

However, these aren’t benign artistic choices, they’re performances of allegiance.

For too long, Western institutions—particularly in the classical music world—have hidden behind the notion that “art is above politics.” But art is never above politics when it is used as a tool of nationalism, repression, or propaganda. Gergiev has been a willing participant in that machinery. His continued prominence on world stages has sent a chilling message to Ukrainians, Syrians, and dissidents across the globe: that cultural prestige can outweigh human rights, and that fame can shield collaborators from consequence.

Canada’s move is both overdue and bold. It follows similar actions from Germany and other European countries, but it stands out in the broader context of North America, where the arts industry has been far slower to reckon with its complicity. While many venues have quietly removed Gergiev from programs in recent years, this is one of the first formal political acknowledgements of his role in Putin’s authoritarian cultural front.

Let’s be clear, this isn’t about punishing a musician for his beliefs. It’s about recognizing that when someone lends their global platform to endorse a war criminal, that platform becomes an extension of power. And when we invite that person to conduct our orchestras, sit on our boards, or receive our highest artistic honors, we become complicit in normalizing that power.

Some will argue that this sets a dangerous precedent—that political views should not determine a person’s ability to work. But again, this isn’t about political views. It’s about direct involvement in the amplification of a violent regime. There is a difference between disagreement and collaboration; between artistic freedom and cultural weaponry; And between silence and accountability.

Canada’s decision signals something vital: that the international community is waking up to the ways soft power operates—and that artists, too, can be held accountable when they trade their influence for loyalty to tyranny.

This moment is also a call to action for our own institutions. North American arts organizations must take a hard look at who they platform, who they protect, and who they silence. Because while we rightly condemn Gergiev’s proximity to Putin, we must also interrogate our own failure to act sooner—and our selective outrage when power and privilege insulate those closer to home.

To the Ukrainian people: this is one small step of justice. To the classical music world: this is a reckoning long overdue.

For another example of art being tied to politics, read my article on Venezuela, titled: El Sistema’s Cultural Politics and What Orchestras Can Learn from It

(c) Katie A. Berglof, 2025