How Novichok, a Russian Nerve Toxin, Is Being Used to Sell T-Shirts

In recent months, you may have heard of Novichok: it’s the nerve agent, developed by the Soviet Union in the ‘70s and '80s, that was used to attack a former Russian spy and recently put a British man in the hospital and killed his partner. Novichok can enter the body through either inhalation or ingestion, and it works rapidly once it’s in: victims can start to exhibit symptoms 30 seconds after Novichok enters the body. Inside the body, Novichok blocks nerves from communicating with muscles; on the outside, pupils shrink before the convulsing and vomiting starts. Gary Stephens, a pharmacology expert at the University of Reading, told the BBC that Novichok “is a more dangerous and sophisticated agent than sarin or VX,” which was used to kill Kim Jong-Un’s brother last year. Novichok is also being used to drive clothing sales, in one case printed across a T-shirt sold by an apparel brand in Russia. On Instagram, the brand promises that the tee will deliver “the love of a beautiful woman.”

And it’s not just the shirt: A whole mini economy inspired by the emergence of Novichok has bubbled up in Russia, with products making even more loaded promises that explicitly reference the poison and its effects. A beer named Novichok shows a figure keeled over on its label and promises “a nerve-paralytic nirvana.” Coffee Novichok makes a similar taunt: “Like in the U.K. it will not kill you, but you will be addicted forever.” The maker of sunflower oil that uses the Novichok name claims, grotesquely, that the product will give you a long life.

This list of products were met with outrage and disgust by British-based media. The items were grouped together in articles with headlines like “Russian firms are selling sick 'Novichok' products.” Even in an era where Russia has gleefully tweaked its adversaries in the west—remember when Putin ventured that “patriotic Russians” hacked the U.S. election?—capitalizing on poisonings feels beyond the pale. The obvious question is the right one: Why is this happening?

“There's some nationalism involved with this,” posits Clint Watts, a former FBI agent who spoke to the Senate Intelligence Committee as an expert on Russian propaganda and election meddling last year, and has written a book on the subject. “Under Putin, Russia has advanced its nationalism and they're taking much more pride in what they're doing.” Watts adds, “This is, ‘Hey, that's right we invented this thing, and we act on it, and we're tough.” (The Russian state has denied its involvement in the U.K. poisonings.)

Watts also adds that Novichok has woven itself into pop culture in Russia, and now people are using these products to poke fun at the international scandal they’re at the center of. The man behind the Novichok oil, Alexei Yakushev, told The New York Times he wanted to “inject an element of humor” into the conversation around Novichok and the poisonings of a former spy and his daughter.

These aren’t just gag products, doomed to sit on the shelf of the Spencer Gifts equivalent in Russia, though. Yakushev told the Times that he only set out to make 1,000 bottles of his Novichok oil, but is planning on making another batch because it’s so popular. Similarly, the Instagram belonging to Spare Skin, the brand behind the Novichok tee, is now covered with pictures of happy customers (including a popular radio host) wearing the design. The shirt costs roughly $30, and the product listing says it keeps its forms for a long time—while simultaneously advising, “Remember, Big Brother is watching you.”

And where Watts suggested there’s some humor or nationalism involved in the creation of these products, Spare Skin designer Sergey Gladkov tells me over email he was more motivated by the way Russia and its citizens are portrayed by the Western media. In fact, his first email back to me asked what the tone of this article would be, because “Western media actively demonize the image of RF [Russian Federation], and I wouldn’t like to be a part of this process.” He eventually explained that the design of the shirt, a traditional Russian headdress known as a kokoshnik atop a gas mask, is meant to portray how he believes Western media depicts the country, obscuring the true face of Russia by accusing it of poisonings. “Our English partners were offended and did not understand satire,” the brand wrote in a recent Instagram caption.

In a separate caption, though, Spare Skin claims that this is the response it’s received all along: “When we posted the design of the Novichok on Behance (social network for designers), we got a huge number of negative reactions.” But all that controversy is apparently good for business, according to the second half of that same caption: “But at what speed are these T-shirts selling now.” An oil, coffee, beer, or T-shirt, tee may be like so many things in 2018: obviously odious but beloved by a dedicated, niche, and troll-happy audience.


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