Dancing Warriors: How Russia's Propaganda is Impacting Professional Stages

“Here’s a sample of the kinds of emails I get,” reveals Oleksandr Melnyk. “‘We’re  gonna tell everyone of your racist and discriminatory actions.’ Or, ‘I know your immigration status, and I’m getting your Green Card revoked!’”

Melnyk is not the man’s real name. He asked not to use his real name because, “People in my world face cancellations and hate from within our industry for voicing their opinions.”

The world of threats and cancellations and ruined reputations that Melnyk is talking about is taking place in an arena that most of us would never expect: professional dancing. The schism between dancers who support Russia and those who support Ukraine could hardly be deeper. It’s as if the war between Russia and Ukraine is also playing out on the dance floors in the United States. Melnyk, a professional dancer, is experiencing this.

In the world of dance, where art is often held up as a beacon of unity and peace, a sinister undercurrent has emerged. Culture, according to Melnyk, is being wielded as a tool of manipulation. Under the guise of bridging divides, Putin aims to soften Western resolve against Russian aggression, turning art into a vehicle for political influence. In Melnyk’s experience, anyone who opposes this is likely to pay a price.

While Russian dancers on American stages proclaim that “Art brings people together,” and that they’re “ambassadors for peace,” Melnyk points out that these “peace ambassadors,” support Russia’s War on Ukraine. He gives as an example, the Bolshoi Ballet that regularly sends funds to the Russian invaders in Ukraine.

For the Kremlin, the goal is clear: these cultural exchanges are opportunities to shift perceptions, subtly encouraging Americans to view Russia as misunderstood, a country that promotes beauty and peace rather than as an aggressor.

This cultural manipulation extends beyond dance into music and theater. Renowned Russian performers with state sponsorship tour prestigious venues like Lincoln Center, using their art as a shield to deflect criticism of Russia’s actions. Their message is potent: “We are artists. We are Russians, and we and our country only want peace.” 

The subtext, however, is insidious, aiming to dilute Western support for Ukraine by casting Russia in a sympathetic light. Melnyk believes that the reality is that every performance, every note, every step on American soil is choreographed not just by the artists but by a government intent on advancing its pro-Russia narrative.

Art, once thought to elevate the human spirit and foster goodwill, is now repurposed as a weapon in an ideological war. In his view, what he and his fellow dancers who support Ukraine are up against is a well-funded and deeply entrenched network that intimidates dissenters and uses art as a veneer for its agenda. 

“For the West it’s difficult to counteract Russian propaganda,” he laments. “The Kremlin makes sure their dance-as-propaganda efforts are extremely well-funded while we in the West have no budget, and can only act as individuals when opposing them."

There’s a Russian slogan, “Dance is outside of politics,” but in Melnyk’s view, the wounded and dead Ukrainian dancers can’t be outside of politics. The Russian missiles that rained down on their country left them no choice. 

For those impacted by the war, art is not just an escape or a bridge to peace; it is a battleground where every note, every step, and every performance carries weight far beyond the aesthetic. The cultural frontline is as real as the physical one, with artists like Melnyk caught in the crossfire. Their dancing is now a reflection of the struggle for identity, sovereignty, and truth in a world where even beauty is politicized.