Vladimir Putin must have felt a distinct lack of joie de vivre this morning as the curtain rose on his flagship economic forum in St Petersburg. For while the great and the good of the global kleptocracy were polishing their Rolexes and practising their oligarchic handshakes, the sky above the city of Peter the Great was playing host to a decidedly uninvited guest: a Ukrainian drone. Yes, a drone. The sort of thing you might buy your nephew for Christmas if you hated his parents. But this one came with a message. A message that said, in the universal language of buzzing rotors and mild inconvenience, "We are here. We see you. And your economic forum is a joke."
The attack, if you can call it that, was small in scale but large in symbolism. It was like throwing a single peanut at a wedding feast. But the peanut, it seems, landed in the punchbowl. Russian air defence, that most vaunted of military systems, reportedly shot down the intruder, no doubt after much furious radar-blinking and shouting of orders in a language best suited to shouting orders. The forum, needless to say, went ahead. Because nothing, not even the sound of distant explosions, will stop a Russian businessman from networking over blinis and caviar.
Let us consider the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here is St Petersburg, the city of Dostoevsky and white nights, of canals and conspiracy. And here is Vladimir Putin, the man who would be Tsar, standing in front of a podium, pretending the war in Ukraine is a minor squabble. The forum is meant to be a showcase for Russia's economic resilience, a sort of 'business as usual' pantomime. But the drone, a little metal mosquito, has bitten through the veneer. It has said, in effect, "We are watching your pantomime. And we have a drone."
This is not the first time Ukrainian drones have reached deep into Russian territory. They've been to Moscow, to the Kremlin itself, causing a flutter of panic among the suits. But St Petersburg is different. This is Putin's hometown, the jewel in the crown of his national myth. To have a drone buzzing overhead while he is trying to convince the world that Russia is open for business is, let us be frank, a bit of a PR disaster. It is the kind of thing that makes you wonder if the Russian military has invested more in palace guards than in actual defence.
But let us retain perspective. A single drone, even one that is shot down, does not win a war. It does, however, win the battle of narratives. The narrative now is not about Russian economic resilience, but about Ukrainian ingenuity. About the fact that a country with a fraction of Russia's military budget can buzz the Tsar's nest while he is holding court. It is a masterclass in psychological warfare, delivered by remote control.
And what of the forum itself? It will go on, of course. The suits will talk about digital transformation and sustainable development. They will sign dubious contracts and toast to partnerships that exist only in their fevered imaginations. But underneath the champagne and the bluster, there will be a gnawing unease. Because drones are cheap. And there are many, many more where that one came from.
I am Biff Thistlethwaite, and I am pouring a very large gin. The ice cubes clink like tiny rotor blades. The taste is of juniper and defiance. Here's to the drone. Here's to the message. And here's to the sheer, glorious absurdity of a war that is fought with equal measures of blood and symbolism. The forum continues, but the drone has spoken. And its voice is the sound of a new reality.
