History, as I have often reminded readers, does not repeat itself but it does rhyme. The news that Ukrainian drones have struck St Petersburg as Putin’s flagship economic forum convenes is a line of verse that would make Gibbon nod grimly. Here we have the spectacle of a great power, one that styles itself as the heir to Byzantium and the Third Rome, suddenly finding its heartland vulnerable to a far smaller, more agile adversary.
It is as if the Visigoths had not merely sacked Rome but had buzzed the imperial palace during a session of the Senate. The symbolism is exquisite: the St Petersburg International Economic Forum, that stage-managed display of Russian resilience and geopolitical ambition, now overshadowed by the whine of drone engines and the thud of explosions. For years, the Kremlin has sold the image of a fortress Russia, impervious to the long arm of its enemies.
Yet here is a drone, likely launched from within Russian borders, striking the very city that embodies Peter the Great’s dream of a window to the West. The irony would be laughable were it not so deadly serious. This is not merely a military setback; it is a psychological blow.
It tells the Russian elite, gathered in their suits and bad faith, that the war is no longer a distant operation in the Donbas but a buzzing presence in their own backyards. The forum, meant to project confidence and attract investment, now becomes a backdrop for a parable of decline. We have seen this before: the intellectual and moral decay that precedes the fall.
The Soviet Union, too, held grand congresses while the rot spread. The parallel is not exact, but the scent is unmistakable. What does this strike portend?
It suggests that Ukraine, despite the grinding attrition of the front, has developed the capacity for deep, asymmetric blows. It hints at a Russian air defence system that is, to put it politely, less than airtight. And it raises the question: if a drone can reach St Petersburg, what else might reach Moscow?
I do not cheer the escalation of war; war is a horror that desolates all it touches. But I note the historical irony. A nation built on the cult of strength, on the myth of the invincible leader, now sees its second city buzzed by a foe it dismissed as a ‘Nazi junta’ and a ‘failed state’.
The hubris is being repaid. The forum will go on, of course. Putin will give a speech.
The applause will be dutiful. But every attendee will be glancing at the sky. And that, my readers, is the sound of an empire’s confidence cracking.
It is not the fall of Rome, no. But it is the first firm step down that long, decayed road. The drums of St Petersburg drown out the speeches of the forum.
Let us not pretend otherwise.
