Erasing Voices: Australia Drops Khaled Sabsabi from 2026 Venice Biennale
Erasing Voices: Australia Drops Khaled Sabsabi from 2026 Venice Biennale
The exclusion of Lebanese-Australian artist Khaled Sabsabi from the 2026 Venice Biennale has sparked controversy, primarily due to his 2007 video installation You, which features Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah. This decision raises important questions about the Western art world’s reluctance to engage with complex, challenging narratives.
In 2007, Lebanese-Australian artist Khaled Sabsabi created a video installation featuring Hassan Nasrallah, the former leader of Lebanon's paramilitary and political organization, Hezbollah. The artwork entitled You, presents tiled images of Nasrallah, illuminated as he delivers the same words from his 2006 speech following 34 days of war with Israel in southern Lebanon. According to the Museum of Contemporary Art Australia, the collectors of the piece, the installation “plays on Western fears of cultural differences, juxtaposing these fears with Nasrallah’s salutation.”
Stills from You by Khaled Sabsabi, 2011.
This artwork has become the focal point of Australia’s abruptly announced decision to exclude Sabsabi from the Australian Pavilion at the 2026 Venice Biennale. This move came only a week after announcing that Sabsabi would be participating with his collaborator Michael Dagostino, also removed from the Pavillion. A storm of critics claim the decision was made based on an article by Yoni Bashan and Nick Evans titled “Arts Council Takes a Creative Approach to Racism,” where the authors claim that Sabsabi’s artwork portrays a “terrorist” as “divine.”
The exact reason for Creative Australia’s unanimous vote to remove the artists cannot be confirmed. Without delving into a critique of Yoni Bashan’s personal beliefs—he is, after all, the recipient of an award that frames the events in Gaza post-October 7th as a 'war against the terror group Hamas,' despite the International Court of Justice labeling it as a genocide—we can instead focus on Sabsabi’s artwork. This raises a crucial question: did those responsible for his removal from the Biennale engage in genuine critical analysis before making their decision?
Does an artwork that presents Nasrallah as he consistently presented himself to the Lebanese public automatically reflect Sabsabi’s personal beliefs? Or does it offer commentary on society and its times? Any true defender of the arts and what it should always represent--unhindered freedom of speech—knows that entertaining this question is not necessary. The work of an artist is to evoke a feeling and challenge ideas while the work of institutions should be to foster an environment for free thought to flourish.
Still, for the sake of discussion, let’s analyse Sabsabi’s work.
Sabsabi has never publicly identified as Shia or Sunni—an important aspect for understanding the sectarian context of Lebanon and the true meaning of his artwork. Those who react hastily to the piece may lack insight into the historical and cultural fabric of Lebanese society, along with the deep political divisions shaped by sectarianism. Sabsabi’s personal identity or opinions on Hezbollah alone don’t reveal the intent of his work. Yet, the failure to explore his positionality within a society he left decades ago, or his views on sectarian politics, underscores the Western art world’s limited understanding of complexities beyond its borders.
The “critique” of the artist is a perception that Sabsabi reveres Nasrallah. It appears to be a demand that we ignore the undeniable influence of a figure whose actions—whether seen as resistance or aggression—have profoundly shaped Lebanon’s trajectory, simply because it is uncomfortable to some.
Critics refuse to engage with the deeper insights Sabsabi’s artwork might reveal. A closer examination of Lebanese politics over the past two decades uncovers layers of symbolism embedded in the installation. Even viewing the piece today evokes a return to another pivotal moment: the early days of the 2019 Lebanese revolution. During that time, the public overcame sectarian divides, uniting in the streets to chant 'killion yaane killion'—a demand for all politicians, including Hezbollah’s leader, to step down.
And yet, in the middle of those demands, the only voice that could bring the revolt to a momentary standstill was that of Nasrallah. Whenever there was an announcement that he would bequeath the country with his words, everyone - followers and haters - would give him their full attention. The moments leading up to those grandiose speeches were filled with anticipation. There wasn’t a revolutionary on the ground who didn’t stop in their tracks to hear Nasrallah’s almost omniscient voice radiate through the streets. Like it or not, what he said would impact their collective future, their next move as a revolution.
Indeed, throughout his life, Nasrallah commanded power and spoke in a way foreign to western culture. His unforgettable presence in the midst and aftermath of everything was not only a hallmark of his political life, but also of every moment in Lebanese history during it.
By banning Sabsabi from the 2026 Venice Biennale, the message seems clear: the Western world has little interest in understanding the complexities of history or exploring deeper meanings. This decision underscores how Western institutions often struggle to engage with narratives that challenge or complicate their existing frameworks.
Also worth reflection: how did Lebanon find itself in “need” of a paramilitary political organization with a godlike figure at the helm? Several international agreements, such as the Taif Agreement, and the persistent cycle of dependency created by international ‘aid,’ left the Lebanese army with limited control. As a result, the country struggled to establish a national defense system comparable to other sovereign nations. In the absence of adequate state protection, it’s understandable that people sought security elsewhere—especially in a land that has faced occupation and invasion more than once.
It should not be lost on anyone that the removal of Sabsabi from the Australian Pavilion happened whilst Israel continues to violate the ceasefire agreement it made with Lebanon in November 2024. Only days ago, and nearly five months after the assassination of Nasrallah, 14-year-old Khadija Atoui (pictured) was shot and killed by Israeli forces in the village of Houla. At the time of writing this, her body still lies in the streets, as reports have been made that the Israeli forces refuse to allow medical personnel to retrieve her remains.
14-year old Khadija Atoui, killed by the IOF in South Lebanon on 16th February 2025.
Perhaps the Biennale will find an artist to pay homage to her.