In a development that has sent shockwaves through the world of high-stakes international diplomacy and low-stakes cucumber sandwich consumption, Vladimir Putin’s flagship economic forum in St Petersburg has been somewhat rudely interrupted by the sound of exploding drones and the smell of burning oligarchs. Yes, the St Petersburg International Economic Forum, that annual gathering of the world’s wealthiest men and their most sycophantic lackeys, has been overshadowed by the kind of drama one might expect from a particularly tense episode of ‘The Crown’ if the cast were armed with Kalashnikovs and a grudge.
Let us first address the elephant in the room, or rather the drone in the sky. As the city’s elite tucked into their blinis and wondered whether the caviar was sustainably sourced, Ukrainian kamikaze drones decided to deliver a rather more literal interpretation of ‘sustainable energy’. The resulting explosions, conveniently timed to coincide with the opening speeches, served as a stark reminder that even the most lavishly funded public relations exercise cannot mask the sound of an incoming drone strike.
But the real story here is not the drones, but the roubles. For the Russian economy, once a powerhouse of petrodollars and corruption, is now in such a state of disrepair that even the most optimistic of Kremlin propagandists are struggling to spin it. Consider this: the rouble has lost so much value that it now costs more to produce a coin than the coin is worth. One might say the Russian currency has achieved a state of pure, unadulterated farce. At this rate, the nation’s debt will be paid off in toilet paper, which, ironically, is now more valuable than the currency itself.
The forum, which was supposed to showcase Russia’s resilience and economic might, has instead become a monument to the country’s crumbling fortunes. Foreign investors, once eager to snap up a slice of the Russian pie, are now nowhere to be seen. They have presumably taken one look at the Western sanctions, the capital flight, and the distinct possibility of being caught in a drone strike, and decided that perhaps their money is safer in a mattress.
And what of the attendees? They are a motley crew of government officials, state-owned enterprise CEOs, and the occasional bewildered journalist. They wander the corridors with a look of forced optimism, as if attending a wedding reception where the bride has just run off with the best man. One can almost hear the collective grinding of teeth as they try to maintain the pretence that all is well. But the truth is, the Russian economy is on life support, and the only question is whether the plug will be pulled before or after the closing banquet.
In the meantime, the drones keep coming. They are the uninvited guests at this party, the ones who show up unannounced and refuse to leave. Each strike is a reminder that the war in Ukraine is not going away, and that the cost of conflict is being paid in more than just human lives. It is being paid in the collapse of an economy, the devaluation of a currency, and the humiliation of a nation that once fancied itself a global superpower.
So let us raise a glass of cheap, Russian-produced champagne to the St Petersburg International Economic Forum. It may be a shadow of its former self, but it still manages to provide the world with a rich source of comedy. After all, there is nothing quite like watching a man in a £5,000 suit try to maintain a brave face while his country’s economy goes up in flames. Or in this case, drone strikes.
