Venice isn't for sale—it's for living in
Every summer, Venice holds a festival older than the American republic itself — a ceremony of gratitude born from plague and survival, when the city's remaining people walk across water to give thanks. This July, a $450 million superyacht belonging to the US Ambassador to Italy is expected to arrive during those very days, and the Venetians who still call the city home are asking a question that echoes far beyond their lagoon: who does a place belong to when the world's wealthy can simply dock beside its most sacred moments? The protest being organized is not merely about blocked views — it is about the slow erosion of a living city into a luxury backdrop, and the human cost of that transformation.
- A 117-metre yacht with two helipads and two swimming pools is set to arrive in Venice on July 17, directly during the Festa del Redentore — a centuries-old plague commemoration that remains one of the few traditions locals still feel is truly theirs.
- Activists fear the vessel will anchor at one of the most prominent waterfront spots, physically blocking ordinary citizens from watching their own city's most beloved fireworks display.
- The anger runs deeper than obstruction: in a city hollowed out by housing shortages and precarious work, the ambassador's visit is being read as a symbol of billionaire entitlement — wealth treating Venice as a private venue rather than a living community.
- The protest carries political charge too, with activists linking the ambassador to Trump's administration and its funding, even as diplomatic tensions between Washington and Rome simmer in the background.
- Inspired by last year's disruption of Jeff Bezos's wedding — which forced a venue change after threats of inflatable crocodiles in the canals — organizers are preparing to make their resistance visible and disruptive once again.
- Safety concerns have also been raised: if police resources are redirected to protect the ambassador and manage yacht traffic, the festival's safe operation for tens of thousands of Venetians could be compromised.
On a Thursday evening, roughly forty Venetians gathered and made a collective decision: they had disrupted a billionaire's wedding the year before, and they were prepared to do it again.
The occasion this time is the planned arrival of Tilman Fertitta — US Ambassador to Italy, entertainment mogul, and owner of the Houston Rockets — aboard his personal superyacht, the Boardwalk. The 117-metre vessel, valued at around $450 million and equipped with two helipads and two swimming pools, is expected to dock in Venice on July 17 as part of what Fertitta is calling "Coastal Diplomacy 250," a cruise celebrating American-Italian ties and the 250th anniversary of US independence.
The problem is the timing. July 17 falls during the Festa del Redentore, Venice's most sacred annual celebration — a festival dating to the sixteenth century, when the city gave thanks for surviving a plague that killed more than fifty thousand people in two years, a number exceeding Venice's entire current permanent population. The tradition includes a floating bridge across to the Redentore church and a fireworks display that thousands of residents gather to watch from the waterfront. Activists fear the yacht will anchor at one of the prime viewing locations, effectively blocking locals from witnessing their own ceremony.
"Redentore is one of the few occasions that still belongs to the people of Venice," said Stella Faye, one of the protest's organizers. The group has adopted a bilingual slogan — "Venezia non si USA" — a pun that means both "Venice is not for using" and references the United States directly.
For activist Giulia Cacopardo, 29, the visit crystallizes something larger. In a city where residents struggle to find affordable housing and stable work, watching a billionaire ambassador arrive by floating palace to a festival he likely knows nothing about feels like a provocation. The activists describe Fertitta's political associations — his funding of Trump's 2024 campaign, his role in an administration they call "warmongering and colonialist" — as compounding the offense, particularly as diplomatic tensions between Trump and Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni remain unresolved after a public dispute at the G7 summit.
Practical concerns have also been raised: a heavy police presence around the yacht could divert resources away from managing the festival safely for ordinary Venetians. The US embassy and Venice's port authority have not yet responded to requests for comment. What is certain is that the activists, emboldened by last year's success in disrupting Jeff Bezos's wedding reception, have no intention of letting the visit pass without being heard — and at least one person in the room has already suggested bringing back the inflatable crocodiles.
Stella Faye stood in a room with about forty other Venetians on a Thursday evening and made a simple declaration: they had disrupted Jeff Bezos's wedding the year before, and they planned to do it again—this time to an American ambassador arriving by superyacht.
The target is Tilman Fertitta, a billionaire entertainment mogul and current US ambassador to Italy, who has announced plans to visit Venice on July 17 aboard his personal vessel, the Boardwalk, a 117-metre floating palace worth roughly $450 million. The ship carries two helipads, two swimming pools, and rises thirty-two metres high across six decks. Fertitta is calling the journey "Coastal Diplomacy 250," a cruise meant to celebrate ties between Rome and Washington and mark the 250th anniversary of American independence. But for Venice's activist community, the visit represents something else entirely: another instance of the world's wealthy treating their city as a stage set, available for rent to anyone with enough money.
The real flashpoint is timing. Fertitta's yacht is expected to arrive during the Festa del Redentore, one of Venice's most sacred annual observances. Held on the third weekend of July, the festival commemorates the end of a sixteenth-century plague that killed more than fifty thousand people in just two years—a death toll that exceeds the current permanent population of the city itself. The celebration includes a temporary floating bridge built so residents can walk across water to the Redentore church on the island of Giudecca to give thanks. The centerpiece is a spectacular fireworks display on Saturday night, when thousands of Venetians line the waterfronts and gather in boats to watch.
Activists fear Fertitta will dock in the historical centre, likely at one of the most prominent viewing spots: either off the Punta della Dogana, directly in front of the Redentore church, or along the Riva dei Sette Martiri, a popular gathering place for locals. A 117-metre yacht at either location would effectively block the view for ordinary citizens trying to witness their own tradition. "Redentore is one of the few occasions that still belongs to the people of Venice," Faye said. The activists have adopted a punning slogan in Italian: "Venezia non si USA"—Stop using Venice—a play on words that also references the United States.
But the objection runs deeper than obstruction. Giulia Cacopardo, a 29-year-old activist and cultural coordinator, framed the visit as emblematic of a larger wound. "In a city where quality of life is in tatters because there's nowhere to live and only precarious jobs, we have billionaires thinking they can do whatever they want," she said. "It shows the arrogance of money—coming to a party for citizens that you probably don't know anything about." The room full of protesters saw Venice not as a living city but as a commodity, a stunning backdrop temporarily available to the wealthy and well-connected. Last year's disruption of Bezos's wedding—which forced the reception to relocate after activists threatened to fill the canals with inflatable crocodiles—had shown that resistance was possible. One protester at Thursday's meeting, half-joking, suggested bringing the crocodiles back.
Fertitta's role in the Trump administration adds another layer to the anger. An entertainment mogul who owns the NBA's Houston Rockets, he has an estimated net worth of $14.2 billion and helped fund Donald Trump's 2024 presidential campaign. Activists describe his administration as "warmongering and colonialist." The timing is also politically fraught: Trump and Italy's Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni have been at odds since mid-June, when Trump claimed Meloni had "begged" him to pose for a photograph at the G7 summit in France. Meloni responded sharply: "Neither I nor Italy ever beg." Fertitta attempted to smooth things over in a Wednesday interview with Italian television, insisting the two leaders were "totally on the same page," but the diplomatic friction remains visible.
Activists also raised practical safety concerns. If police resources shift toward protecting the ambassador and managing boat traffic around the yacht, they argued, the smooth running of the festival for ordinary Venetians could suffer. "This isn't just an inconvenience, it's a danger to the public," Faye said. The US embassy in Rome and Venice's port authority have been asked for comment but have not yet responded. What happens on July 17 remains uncertain, but the activists have already made clear they will not accept the visit quietly.
Citas Notables
Redentore is one of the few occasions that still belongs to the people of Venice— Stella Faye, activist
In a city where quality of life is in tatters because there's nowhere to live and only precarious jobs, we have billionaires thinking they can do whatever they want— Giulia Cacopardo, activist
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does a superyacht visit during a local festival matter so much? It's just one boat, one night.
Because it's not really about the boat. It's about who gets to claim Venice. For centuries, ordinary Venetians have gathered for Redentore—it's their night. A $450 million yacht blocking the view says: your tradition is less important than my presence.
But the ambassador is there on official business, representing the United States. Doesn't that carry some weight?
That's the argument the powerful always make. But Venice is already drowning—literally and economically. Young people can't afford to live there. The city survives on tourism and the goodwill of residents. When billionaires treat it as a personal backdrop, it erodes that goodwill.
The activists mentioned the Bezos wedding last year. Did that protest actually change anything?
It forced the wedding to move. That's real power. It showed Venetians that they could say no. This time, they're saying no again—before it happens.
What do they actually want? For Fertitta not to come at all?
Yes. Or at minimum, not to dock during Redentore. There are other dates, other places. The point is: Venice shouldn't have to negotiate its own traditions with billionaires.
And if the yacht comes anyway?
Then you'll see what happened last year repeated. Disruption, visibility, anger made public. The activists have already won once. They know how.