“Spectacle, in late capitalism, is no longer a side effect of wealth—it is its purpose.”
This weekend, Jeff Bezos will marry Lauren Sánchez in Venice. The city is already in lockdown. His schooner, Koru, is moored in the lagoon like a Bond villain’s base. Police have rerouted ferries and closed off alleyways. Guests are arriving by private water taxi. Whole stretches of the city have been quietly removed from public access, transformed into stages for a three-day celebration of obscene wealth. For Venetians, it looks less like a wedding and more like an occupation.
The posters have already gone up: No Space for Bezos. If you can rent Venice, you can pay more tax. Another, in English, reads simply: This city is not for sale. It is a rare flash of protest in a place that has been steadily hollowed out by mass tourism, Airbnb speculation, and elite exodus. A billionaire has come to get married, and in doing so has revealed something most people already know but rarely say: public life has been privatised. Cities are no longer governed for the people; they are booked by the rich.
Billionaire weddings are no longer personal affairs. They are exercises in power projection. Like Davos or the Met Gala, they serve a dual function: they offer a semi-private celebration for the ultra-rich, and a highly curated image for public consumption. This weekend, we will see Venice in filtered splendour: soft lighting, couture gowns, Instagram-ready balconies. Every table centrepiece a piece of PR. Every drone shot a signal of dominance.
“For Venetians, it looks less like a wedding and more like an occupation.”
For Bezos, the logic is simple. The world is your marketplace, so why shouldn’t it also be your venue? Koru alone cost $500 million to build1—and it was just the setting for the pre-wedding foam party, like Ibiza in 1990, only with better security and worse music. The wedding itself will cost more. There are reports of glass blown on Murano, fashion stylists flown in from LA, and guests escorted via sealed-off canals. This is not extravagance—it is branding. Venice is a backdrop. The city itself reduced to a lifestyle accessory.
Renting the Republic
To rent Venice is to unmake it. Once a fiercely independent republic, governed by a labyrinth of councils and civic codes, it is now little more than a postcard economy. A UNESCO-listed theme park for the rich. For years, residents have been pushed out by landlords cashing in on short-term lets. Now even the streets are cordoned off. The city’s most famous views will, for a weekend, belong exclusively to those with wristbands and NDAs.
“To rent Venice, even temporarily, is to trespass on centuries.”
City officials, including Mayor Brugnaro, have touted the wedding as a boon to local businesses—from hotels to caterers and security firms. But Venetians on the ground question who truly benefits. The wealthy suppliers and luxury venues stand to gain, while low-income residents (squeezed by soaring rents and tourism) see little relief. And for the “No Space for Bezos” protestors, whose banners now adorn bridges and canals, this narrative will be scrubbed from the polished images of the weekend.
The Politics of Celebration
We should stop pretending these events are apolitical. The wedding is a spectacle of hierarchy. It naturalises inequality. It reminds us that in a world of climate collapse and austerity, the rich still get yachts and candlelight dinners in stolen cities. And they don’t just get away with it they will get fawning coverage in the New York Times style section.
In a sense, the real power of the Bezos wedding lies not in what it says, but in what it makes unsayable. This weekend, Amazon warehouse workers will still be on timed toilet breaks. Climate scientists will still be warning that luxury emissions are catastrophic. But those stories won’t trend. There is no glamour in structural violence. There is only silence and a Murano glass gift bag.
“The wedding is a spectacle of hierarchy. It naturalises inequality. It reminds us that in a world of climate collapse and austerity, the rich still get yachts and candlelight dinners in stolen cities.”
Resistance in the Ruins
Still, the protests matter. They will not stop the wedding. But they might disrupt the narrative. They might remind people watching through curated Instagram stories and TikTok feeds that this is not normal. That no private citizen should be able to commandeer a city. That the world’s wealthiest people have more power than governments, and less accountability than most mayors.
Venice is sinking. Quite literally. And yet this weekend, as champagne flows and drones circle, that reality will be suspended. This is what the billionaire class does best: not solve problems, but stage distractions. Not build futures, but hire stylists.
They can have the wedding. Let them. But they can’t have the silence.
Footnotes
- It even has a £75 millon support vessel ↩︎
