Dear organisers and partners of the Into The Open Music Festival,

We, cultural figures, media professionals, journalists, scholars, and activists, are writing to you regarding the upcoming performance of the opera Russia: Today, scheduled for May 10 at KühlhausBerlin.

While we respect and support the mission of fostering spaces for artistic reflection on contemporary issues, we hereby express our strong and unequivocal objection to the planned presentation of Russia: Today opera and demand its cancellation, because this work spreads narratives of Russian state propaganda. In the context of Russia’s escalating military aggression against Ukraine and its extensive information warfare — at a time when Russian propaganda has been officially recognised as a major threat to Germany’s national security — the public presentation of such a work poses a serious threat to democratic values and the security of European society.

Our concern is raised not only by the Russia: Today project's title, which closely echoes the name of the propaganda channel RT (Russia Today), officially banned in Germany as a source of Russian disinformation, but also by the fact that the work reproduces Kremlin disinformation narratives: such as "unfair treatment of Russian culture," "historical unity of Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus," and "greatness and generosity of the Russian people in the past." Instead of condemning the information warfare conducted by Russia, the authors reduce everything to the idea of "mutually biased political portrayals of Russia and the West," thus questioning the scale of Russian aggression and the responsibility for its consequences.

We conducted a detailed analysis of the project description, promotional materials, and libretto of Russia: Today project and concluded that the authors — Eugene Birman (composer), Sergey Morozov (director), Alexandra Karelina (visual concept), and Scott Dill (librettist) — have created an emotional audiovisual narrative that justifies Russia through the image of a "suffering nation," while preserving the imperial idea of its special spiritual mission and avoiding acknowledgment of its responsibility for military aggression, colonialism, and crimes against humanity. In this narrative, Russians are portrayed not as active participants in aggression and colonial policy, but as innocent victims of historical circumstances. The project ignores historical facts concerning Russia’s mass crimes and silences the current war — which is particularly dangerous in the context of Russia’s escalating military aggression and ongoing information warfare.

The authors of the Russia: Today project describe their work as a "documentary opera"; however, this is misleading. The term "documentary" implies accuracy, factual grounding, and engagement with political and historical context. Russia: Today project was first presented in 2019 in the Estonian city Narva — at a time when the Russian Federation had already annexed Crimea and established occupying control over parts of Ukraine’s Donetsk and Luhansk regions through unlawful "referenda" in violation of international law; shot down Malaysia Airlines Flight MH17; and launched a systematic campaign of political repression, poisonings, and assassinations of opposition figures both domestically and abroad. These actions have since been recognized as part of Russia’s record of international crimes by numerous human rights organizations and international courts. A truly documentary approach cannot be reduced to interviews such as "what Russia was," "what Russia is today," or "what it may become," accompanied by scenic imagery of natural landscapes, faces, and elements of everyday life. The authors entirely avoid the political and historical context, which is fundamentally at odds with the principles of the documentary genre.

Especially in the context of Soviet occupation, deportations, and forced russification, portraying the Baltic countries as a backdrop for Russian self-reflection is an affront to the history of these nations and a rhetorical reproduction of colonial narratives. After the signing of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact in 1939 and the subsequent Soviet occupation of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia in 1940, more than 130,000 people from Lithuania, over 57,000 from Latvia, and over 35,000 from Estonia were deported between 1941 and 1953, according to various estimates — becoming national tragedies for these countries. The first major wave of deportations began in June 1941, following the Soviet annexation. After the second Soviet occupation of the Baltic states in 1944–1945, further deportations took place: operation "Vesna" in May 1948, primarily in Lithuania, and Operation "Priboi" in March 1949, which affected all three Baltic countries.

The Russian Empire, and later the Soviet Union, actively sought to suppress and displace local cultures, imposing the Russian language as mandatory in all spheres of life — from education to government activities and mass media. Thus, the inclusion in the opera of the so-called “Russian-speaking population” reflecting on their Russian identity while residing in sovereign states such as Latvia, Estonia, and Finland is particularly problematic. This issue becomes even more pressing when considering the historical context of Russia’s relations with the Baltic countries — a context that the opera entirely ignores. The creators of the opera reproduce an imperial perspective, turning these countries (in the authors' own words) into Russia’s "periphery" or "borderlands," rather than recognising them as full-fledged subjects with their own cultures and identities, which are completely absent from the project's narrative.

We acknowledge the openness of artistic works to interpretation; however, we are equally capable of reading and analysing them professionally — taking into account their contexts, artistic methods, and forms. The invocation of the format of the memorial service of panikhída, a rite of Eastern Orthodox and Byzantine Catholics, as the musical form for the opera creates the impression of a pious image of the "Russian victim." In the religious context, the memorial service is a prayer asking for the forgiveness of sins and eternal peace for the deceased. The use of this form in the opera without mentioning the real victims — including Ukrainians, Syrians, Kartvelians, Ichkerians, and many indigenous peoples killed by the Russian army — fundamentally distorts the essence of the ritual: Russian suffering is presented without any clear distinction as to whether they were executioners or victims. This approach not only erases responsibility but also devalues the religious significance of the ritual itself, reducing it to a tool of symbolic self-purification for Russians.

The work presents a series of metaphorical images — the "sleeping bear," the "kind mother," the "offended boy," "rotten tomatoes," the "broken corpse," the "nation of sufferers," and the "victims." This dissolves political responsibility into a fog of psychologization and allegory. Here, Russia is not portrayed as an aggressor, but rather as a traumatized creature that must be understood, forgiven, pitied, or simply endured. Wars, repressions, and imperial policy disappear within this symbolic landscape, where "the bear is simply sleeping on the globe," "the kind mother sacrifices everything," and "offended boy explodes with resentment." Through this dramatization, it becomes difficult for the viewer to imagine the Russian soldier signing a contract with the Russian army, launching a missile at a children's oncology hospital, residential building, or torturing prisoners of war; or to imagine those Russians who silently observe these acts, shielding themselves behind detached reflections about the "loss of the motherland." This is not merely metaphor; it is a tool of justification, presenting violence as a natural reaction to pain rather than as a conscious decision by a political apparatus.

The neo-imperial concept of "Russian world" has long been actively promoted by the Kremlin through media, education, and culture in order to undermine the distinctiveness of other national identities and obstruct the recognition of national tragedies under the guise of the cultural presence of "Russian-speaking populations." This tactic is familiar to Ukrainians, Moldovans, Romanians, Kartvelians, Latvians, Lithuanians and Estonians, where Russia, through interference in internal politics, creates an artificial situation where "Russian-speaking populations are oppressed" and need to be "protected" under the pretext of freedom of speech being restricted.

Freedom of speech is a fundamental value that we deeply respect as the foundation of a democratic society. However, freedom of speech does not mean the right to ignore or conceal facts of crimes against humanity. In the explications, interviews, and promotional materials of the Russia: Today project, we didn’t find direct and clear condemnation from the authors of the actions of the Russian government and military. This is not an expression of freedom of speech — this is silence. For instance, Sergey Morozov and Yevgeniy Birman, in their interviews, refer to Russia's war in Ukraine as "known events" and "everything that's happening," while librettist Scott Deal, at a time when thousands of Russians are committing armed terror against the peaceful population of Ukraine — including mass killings, deportations, child abductions, rapes, torture, forced Russification, and a series of environmental catastrophes — suggests looking at Russians as a "dramatic proxy for all of us." This fundamentally contradicts the very essence of freedom of speech, which does not tolerate indifference to systematic violence and injustice.

In light of this, we demand the cancellation of the Russia: Today opera performance scheduled for May 10th in Berlin. Without a direct condemnation of the actions of the Russian government and military by the authors of Russia: Today, and without a critical framework and historical context, this work becomes a tool of Russian propaganda, normalising and justifying Russian imperial policy. 

The idea that "culture is outside of politics" belongs to the Russian dictator Putin, and we urge German and international cultural figures not to follow this ideology. Culture cannot remain detached or neutral at a time when mass crimes are being committed, basic human rights are violated, and art is becoming a tool to justify the aggressor. 

We invite representatives of the Berlin cultural community to take part in an open and constructive public dialogue on the responsibility of cultural actors in times of Russia's hybrid war in Europe and across the world.