The Looters Aren’t Destroying Art. Art Basel Is.

In the spring of 1871, a revolution breaks out in Paris – once again. The French capital has long been accustomed to political upheaval. But this time, the system is set to undergo a fundamental change: for 72 days, the people rule their city themselves. Following their defeat in the war against Prussia, the Parisians are no longer willing to submit to an elitist government. The Paris Commune is born. It was one of the first communist revolutions in history. Karl Marx devoted a 35-page analysis to it, and decades later, Lenin took it as a model for the October Revolution. (According to the legend, Lenin is said to have danced in the Russian snow on the 73rd day after the successful uprising – because by then, the Bolsheviks had been in power longer than the Paris Commune.) 

In Paris, the capital of art, the cultural world was inevitably forced to grapple with the Revolution. It forced artists to make a choice: to join the Commune or to turn their backs on it. Two distinct positions emerged. On one side stood Gustave Courbet – the father of Realism. His position was firmly on the side of the Commune. He served on its council, took over as president of the Artists’ Federation, and participated in one of the Commune’s most symbolic acts: the demolition of the Vendôme Column with its statue of Napoleon. On the other side stood Édouard Manet – the father of Impressionism. Unlike Courbet, he did not become involved in the Commune. Before it was even proclaimed, he had left Paris and fled to the more peaceful countryside to escape the violent clashes of the revolution. 

 The Vendôme Column destroyed on May 16, 1871, by supporters of the Commune – Source: ©Bruno Braquehais 

Today, 155 years later, Parisians were suddenly faced once again with the question of how to respond to political upheaval. Once again, citizens took to the streets. Once again, they fought for a radical change in the system. Once again, this struggle turned violent. And once again, the Paris art world was faced with the difficult question: Is it better to act like Courbet or Manet? 

When Art Basel issued a press release on Thursday, this question seemed to have been answered for the art world. In it, the organization announced that it would close its exhibition early. Instead of ending on Sunday as planned, it now ended on Friday evening. In light of the planned protests, the organization justified its decision by citing the “protection of our visitors, exhibitors, partners, staff, and artworks.” Other exhibitions during Paris Art Week also announced that they would end their shows as early as Saturday morning.  

But the art world didn’t just decide to follow Édouard Manet’s example here and flee to the quieter countryside shortly before things were set to get turbulent on the streets of the capital. This decision also meant that two days were canceled, leaving the public with only one day to visit, instead of the three originally planned. 

Sprueth Magers' Art Basel Paris 2026 Booth - Source- Instagram (@spruethmagers) 

The cultural playground had already been open since Tuesday. In the first few days, however, only VIP clients were allowed to play there. As a result, most deals had already been closed by the time the protests began on Saturday. Most of the handshakes had long since been exchanged before the common rabble was even allowed to catch a glimpse of the toys. 

Financially, the early closure thus posed only a minor problem for Art Basel – at least for the major galleries and vendors. As Philip Hoffman, founder of the art consulting firm Fine Art Group, put it very bluntly: “It won’t make any difference at all. All my clients have closed their deals. The transactions have already been completed. Most of them will leave Paris by Friday, and so will I. The only impact the closure will have is on the tourists.” 

So, what’s the big deal about the early closure? After all, Art Basel exists to sell art – not to entertain some “tourists.” 

 Gallery DOUBLE Q setting up their booth - Source: Instagram (@doubleqgallery) 

The real problem, however, goes far beyond a financial debate. The two canceled days of public access interrupt the connection between art and society. As a result, the works at the Grand Palais were (almost) exclusively accessible to a privileged circle this year. This isn’t about some “tourists” who now have to reschedule their ChatGPT-curated visiting program in Paris and forego the obligatory Instagram photo at Art Basel. It’s about society itself – about all those who will now be denied the chance to see the art on display. 

For with their closure, these venues risk losing not only their audience but also their cultural significance. Drawing on Mark Fisher’s cultural analysis in his book ‘Capitalist Realism’, this development can be summed up in his words: “No cultural object can retain its power when there are no longer new eyes to see it.” 

 Still from Children of Men (2006) – Source: Screen grab. 

Fisher illustrates this idea using the example of Alfonso Cuarón’s film ‘Children of Men’ (2006). The film is set in a dystopian world in which the downfall of humanity seems inevitable. Yet even in these darkest of times, a wealthy elite still exists. In protected bunkers, the wealthy spend their final days in luxury – surrounded by famous works of art such as Pablo Picasso’s mural ‘Guernica’ (1937). What was once a commentary on the violence of fascism is now, however, nothing more than an empty symbol on the wall. Although the work still exists – saved from destruction – its original social context has vanished. It has been transformed, as Fisher writes, into an 'artifact.' 

For the art exhibited at Art Basel, this means that by making the works inaccessible, they simultaneously lose part of their social significance. They disappear from public view and can hardly have any impact on society anymore. What remains are works of art that, while physically preserved, are stripped of their social impact – empty “artifacts.” 

In the film, one of the people in the bunker rightly asks, ‘how can all this matter if there will be no one to see it?’ What is the point of preserving works of art from destruction if they lose their meaning in the process? For Fisher, the lesson here is clear: ‘A culture that is merely preserved is no culture at all.’ If Art Basel closes its doors out of fear that works will be destroyed by the protests, it may protect the objects from potential physical destruction – but simultaneously contributes to the destruction of their meaning. Those who preserve a work merely for the sake of preservation may save the canvas, but they destroy its cultural power.  

 Gerhard Richter with Konrad Lueg. Living with Pop: A Demonstration for Capitalist Realism. 1963 – Source: Courtesy Gerhard Richter Archive, Dresden 

The social loss resulting from the premature closure of Art Basel becomes even clearer when one takes a closer look at the works exhibited and sold here. While Art Basel flees from protests critical of the system, the art traded here claims to be critical of the system itself. For example, in the days leading up to the event, the Hauser & Wirth gallery sold Gerhard Richter’s work ‘Rococo Table’ (1965) for approximately ten million dollars. 

This very work dates from Richter’s period within the so-called ‘Capitalist Realism’ movement (ironically, the same title Mark Fisher later chose for his book). During this phase of his career, he criticized the capitalist affluent society of postwar Western Germany, which claimed to be free of ideology – in contrast to Eastern Germany. By depicting seemingly banal objects (including the Rococo table), Richter intended to expose the hidden ideology of capitalism in these objects: the belief that material possessions confer moral superiority. 

Georg Baselitz 'Der Hirte (The Shepherd)' (1965) – Source: Youtube (@HauserWirth) 

And as capitalist coincidence would have it, Hauser & Wirth also sold Georg Baselitz’s work 'Der Hirte (The Shepherd)' (1965) for also almost ten million dollars. In this piece, Baselitz explored the image of the German hero in the aftermath of World War II. Instead of a brave, Aryan hero, the work depicts a failed German worker. It is a direct critique of fascist propaganda, which relied on emotionally charged depictions of heroes and strength. 

Art Basel thus found itself in a striking contradiction with the very works it was selling. Ironically, Richter’s painting – which critiques capitalism – changed hands for ten million dollars. But the contradiction goes further: Richter wanted to expose the ideology hidden behind the supposed self-evidence of capitalist affluence. Art Basel did the opposite. Instead of confronting social conflict, the fair closed its doors – and thereby shied away from the very debate that Richter’s work addresses. 

The cake at Art Basel (Gina Fischli ‘Swiss Life’ (2026))– Source: Instagram (@karmainternational) 

A contradiction also arises regarding Georg Baselitz’s statement. While the protests were largely peaceful, public attention increasingly focused on images of destruction and looting. Right-wing politicians used these images to fuel an emotionally charged debate against the protesters and their demands. By closing early for security reasons, Art Basel contributed to images of danger and destruction continuing to shape the public perception of the protests – and thereby played right into the hands of the very emotional propaganda that Baselitz had criticized. 

This year, Art Basel didn't just take on the role of the cake-eating “Marie Antoinette,” as Elke Buhr, editor-in-chief of Monopol magazine, put it. Rather, the fair slipped into the role of the elite from 'Children of Men', who sit comfortably in their bunker during the apocalypse, viewing expensive works of art while the world around them falls apart. But just as in the film, the artworks on display at Art Basel have also become meaningless here. As Fisher puts it, they have been stripped of ‘any possible function or context.’ All Art Basel had left to offer now were empty curtains, meant to make the gray walls of the elite’s bunker a little more bearable during the world’s final days. 

Students of the École Boulle at the protest on October 17 – Source: Instagram (@miramagazine) 

But the situation is not hopeless (even if Mark Fisher might see it that way). Not the entire art world has chosen to follow Édouard Manet’s retreat to the countryside. On the day of the demonstration, October 17, students from the École Boulle instead stepped into the role of Gustave Courbet. They pulled a Trojan horse several meters tall through the streets – which they had built themselves. This performance combined their social critique with a play on words: the Trojan horse plays on the phonetic similarity between “Troie” (Troy) and “trop jeunes” (“too young”). According to the state, the young people are supposedly trop jeunes to have their concerns heard, but apparently old enough to be hit with tear gas. 

This action demonstrated that art can engage directly with social conflicts rather than hiding behind the windows of the Grand Palais. Mark Fisher describes this withdrawal from social engagement as a transition “from engagement to spectatorship,” which is “one of the virtues of capitalist realism” (the state, in which it is easier to imagine the end of the world than it is to imagine the end of capitalism).  

Poster by the art collective “Atelier Populaire” in response to the 1968 protests – Source: https://libcom.org/article/paris-68-posters 

The students reversed this trend: Their art did not become a guarded object, but rather an action that took place directly within society – entirely in the spirit of Courbet. Even if the flames from the burning Lime bikes had spread to the horse, its social significance would not necessarily have been lost. It was therefore understandable that the performance also attracted significant media attention and was covered by Le Parisien and Brut, among others. It demonstrated that art can have a social impact even under destructive conditions. 

The early closure of Art Basel gives the impression that the art world today is aligned with Manet and is fleeing out of fear of protests against the system. It is precisely this timid decision that is causing art to sink ever deeper into cultural irrelevance. While art dealers hid in their apartments, young people filled the streets of Paris, voicing their discontent and thus influencing contemporary culture. However, as the example of the students at the École Boulle shows, art doesn't have to lose its connection to society. There is indeed a way to engage directly with questions of social criticism: The art world would simply have to stop repeating Manet’s fear-driven decision to flee. Rather than run from protests, art must confront the conflicts of its time – as Courbet’s Realism once did.