The most macabre exhibition: Putin brings war to museums

Moscow"We did not start the war; we want to end it." This motto resonates like a mantra on the walls of the new museum dedicated to the "heroism of the participants in the special military operation." The exhibition opened in Moscow to coincide with the third anniversary of Russia's invasion of Ukraine, but it is just one of hundreds of displays organized across the country to honor and promote the war effort. According to research byNovaia Gazeta EuropaOne in six public museums in Russia has contributed to war propaganda at some point. In total, there are more than 800 exhibits, and the number is growing.

The location is no coincidence: the former Ukrainian pavilion at the VDNKh exhibition center, one of the largest parks in the Russian capital, established during the 1950s in the Soviet republics, and now home to the world's longest ice rink and a popular place for strolling. Unlike other pavilions, this one is free to enter. It's a Friday afternoon, and the park is full of groups taking advantage of the good weather to take a stroll, but few people are peeking into the brand-new exhibition on war heroes.

The security check at the entrance is particularly exhaustive, and the guard's bad temper is noticeable. The space is disappointingly small, but the atmosphere is heavy: darkness, the gloomy voices of hologram soldiers, and the rumbling of explosions. The welcome is provided by a video explaining the "fundamental causes" of the conflict, the reasons that inevitably led Russia to war, well-seasoned with many statements from the "commander in chief," Vladimir Putin.

Then comes the "Avenue of Glory," an electronic mural of faces and stories that unfold. Some are combatants in Ukraine responsible for real carnage; others are veterans of World War II—the Great Patriotic War for Russians—all honored as "heroes of the homeland." In the middle of the corridor, like a memorial, six statues of soldiers flank a large, bright star made of smaller red stars. In the background, a fire crackles, and the names of the fallen are projected on the screens.

After the glory, the horror. A model represents the different zones from the Bakhmut front, where tens of thousands of people died: an intact Russian hospital where the wounded are taken, the command post, the trenches, the battlefield, the tanks and shell craters, and further on, the destruction. Corpses and more corpses, and a landscape of ruined Ukrainian buildings, just as this macabre nativity scene established.

The crown jewel of the exhibition is the war trophies. Displayed in glass cases are Ukrainian army insignia and personal belongings abandoned by the enemy in their retreat. And in the center of the exhibition, a fence crowning the remains of downed drones, rocket launchers, dismantled body parts, and crumpled Ukrainian car license plates. A true homage to scrap metal.

A shocking botany lesson is broadcast on the screens surrounding this dump. Illustrations of plants appear with corresponding descriptions and in which regions they can be found. The enigma is solved when images of missiles and tanks in action are then interspersed. In Russia, there is a tradition of naming weapons systems with floral names. For example, the dreaded Oreshnik means "hazelnut," the Iksander nuclear missile is a variety of rose, and the Topol intercontinental ballistic missile means "poplar" in Russian.

And between flowers and bombs, one of the most chilling parts of the museum: the letters children send from school to soldiers. "Thank you for protecting us and those who need it most. Continue to be strong and brave, convinced that this will soon end with good triumphing over evil," writes eight-year-old Polina. "We sleep peacefully thanks to you. We love you and we are waiting for you," adds Elina.

A proliferation that is not at all accidental

The proliferation of exhibitions like this is not accidental, but is part of a government strategyl. In April 2023, Putin had a manual written with "methodological recommendations for creating exhibitions dedicated to the history of the special military operation in museums across the Russian Federation." The Kremlin leader ordered public centers across the country to organize exhibitions about the war and to send "artifacts" related to the conflict.

In 2022, 36 exhibitions on this topic opened, while in 2024 the number rose to 492. Two of the first served as models for the rest. Curated in Moscow shortly after the start of the invasion, they were titled "NATO: A Chronicle of Cruelty" and "Ordinary Nazism." Both aimed to project an image of Ukraine as a Nazi state and to argue the reasons for the war as a "forced measure" to protect against external enemies.

However, despite the shameless attempt to swallow the regime's narrative, Russian sociologist Daria Khlevniuk doubts it is an effective system. "It is unlikely that these exhibitions can change anyone's mind or are more effective than media propaganda and political pressure," explains this expert on historical memory.

Sometimes, more disturbing than what is on display in these rooms is the person who looks at them. Just outside the new Moscow museum, Elena, a venerable-looking elderly woman, writes passionately in the guest book. She is wearing a sweater with deer designs and a similarly patterned hat with a tassel at the tip. She leaves excitedly, leaving behind her a seemingly pacifist message addressed to the soldiers: "It is very hard for you to be in another war; we must end the war." Only apparently. "Eternal glory to the living and fallen heroes; they are defending us, Russia, and the world," she concludes. And she leaves.