The Shift From The Epic To The Comic

• Tatyana Rybakova
• 9.06.2026, 11:59

Political analysts around the world are pointing their fingers at the screen.

The St. Petersburg International Economic Forum (SPIEF) began in almost epic fashion, continued dramatically, and ended almost comically—and brought to mind the famous scene from Francis Coppola’s cult classic film .

The forum opened, as people are now joking, with a bang. And with plumes of black smoke rising from the burning St. Petersburg oil terminal, where, judging by the video, Ukrainian drones struck one of the storage tanks. The epic opening was compounded by the reaction of those present at the event. “Well, something caught fire, something—nothing to worry about,” one of the officials told reporters. “There were, of course, some problems, but there always are. After all, it was an attack—a difficult, complex attack. But we were prepared for it; we met our enemies with dignity,” said St. Petersburg Governor Alexander Beglov.

Designers Against Nuclear Weapons
While out-of-town and foreign guests were trying to get to St. Petersburg (Pulkovo Airport “Pulkovo” was closed due to a difficult, complex attack), the crowd was entertained by the well-known Konstantin Malofeev and Alexander Dugin—with their scenarios for Russia’s future. In short, “if we defeat everyone, kill everyone, and rob everyone we need to—everything will be just the way we like it,” as the late z-blogger Vladlen Tatarsky once declared, and by 2036 Russia will have the whole world by the throat. In the “inertial” scenario, things aren’t quite as rosy, but they’re not too bad either.

But if the war ends, things will be very, very bad.

Malofeev even showed charts and lamented that the designers who drew them “got everything mixed up.” For example, they didn’t mention the possibility of Russia using nuclear weapons. “And that would be a good scenario,” Malofeev remarked. I hope that during this explosive—in the literal sense of the word—presentation, the air conditioners in the hall were working well, and the audience didn’t smell the smoke from burning oil.

Of course, the organizers did not choose this opening for the SPIEF by accident.

On the one hand, it was clearly meant to show that the Kremlin has no brakes. On the other hand, events on “Day Zero” are traditionally, shall we say, of an entertaining and informal nature. So, if anything happens, they can always tell Trump, “It’s not us; it’s just some fringe elements spouting nonsense.” And add in a whisper: “See what a bloodthirsty people we’re dealing with?” But Ukrainian drones weren’t part of the script, so everyone sensed a certain ambiguity in the situation. So the desired effect wasn’t achieved.

The self-appointed delegation

Many were at a loss, trying to stick to the script when everything had already gone awry. Those whom the journalists didn’t ask did their best to pretend nothing had happened. Employees of Russian TV channels were gushing about how “foreign delegations are arriving” in St. Petersburg! Even Americans! A real official delegation, led by… here the reporter stumbled, unable to find the name of this powerful figure in her notebook. It eventually came to light that the “official” delegation from the U.S. turned out to be an architect advising Trump on the construction of the ballroom. He was accompanied by two rapist brothers with criminal records and investigations pending in several countries, and the ever-present Steven Seagal, who has made a name for himself in Russia. Oh, yes, and a blogger—a conspiracy theorist.

Marco Rubio, when journalists asked him about the delegation, clearly barely refrained from saying an obscene equivalent of the Russian “Are you out of your mind?” — but managed to pull himself together and reply that the administration, of course, hadn’t sent anyone to the SPIEF.

And the epic spectacle continued. Our chief negotiator with the Americans on the “deals of the century,” Kirill Dmitriev, declared that documents regarding the construction of the infamous “Putin-Trump tunnel” under the Bering Strait would be signed “as early as tomorrow.” Journalists—and experts, for that matter—were somewhat… surprised, but then the meticulous Bloomberg finally got Dmitriev to admit that he was referring to the signing of an agreement with an engineering firm to continue work on the tunnel’s design. Designing—not building. Russia kept designing “Power of Siberia 2” and designing, but never finished the design: there’s not a trace of an agreement with China on building the gas pipeline.

In short, everyone did their best—whether on point or off—either unable to break out of the rut, or trying not to notice the smoke drifting over the waters of the Neva. But everyone was outdone, of course, by the St. Petersburg correspondent, who cheerfully growled into the camera: “Great weather today in St. Petersburg!” and Governor Beglov, who declared that St. Petersburg had become the capital of drone technology. To be honest, we really missed Lieutenant Colonel Bill Kilgore from the movie *Apocalypse Now* with his famous line: “I love the smell of napalm in the morning… That’s the smell of victory,” but the epic nature of what was happening was already off the charts.

Life will be hard. But long

Of course, by the end of the first day, the main question was whether Putin would arrive for his scheduled speech on Friday? While everyone was speculating, a bombshell emerged: Central Bank Chair Elvira Nabiullina had not arrived at the forum. The initial explanation for her untimely absence from the SPIEF was the funeral of her advisor Alexei Mozhin, who had long represented Russia at the IMF. To be honest, the explanation was quite plausible and respectable: Mozhin was not only a colleague of Nabiullina’s, but also a close friend of hers.

The Central Bank’s press service put forward a different explanation: Nabiullina is on sick leave. Not only are two truths in Russia always perceived as a lack thereof, but everyone here, without exception, knows how to take a diplomatic sick leave. However, perhaps we shouldn’t blame the press service: a funeral is an unavoidable event, but Nabiullina didn’t show up at all, and that had to be explained somehow.

The dramatic absence of the “Iron Lady” of the economic bloc also affected the substance of the economic debates. In short: life will be hard—and long.

In vain did the regular and life of the party, Chairman of the State Duma Committee on Budget and Taxes Andrey Makarov, who has long played the role of the man with a fig in his pocket at all sorts of economic forums, try to intersperse jokes (“I believe that all men will be true gentlemen and, in the absence of Elvira Sahipzadovna, will not say that the high key rate is to blame for everything”) with hints of criticism (“The old world is dying, a new world is being born in agony; the time of monsters has come”—a twisted quote from the philosopher and politician Antonio Gramsci: “In this interregnum, a great multitude of pathological symptoms appear”).

Finance Minister Anton Siluanov explained without mincing words that there isn’t enough money in the budget and there will be even less—and this will continue until 2029. This means spending will have to be cut back somehow. Not in war spending, of course—that’s only increasing—but in something else. And he noted that, well, they were afraid that with rising taxes there would be “risks that we’d go too far, but we didn’t.” Business is holding up, the economy is strengthening, growth is no worse than in Europe, debt is lower, and in general—we’ve almost achieved complete independence from foreign loans. No one dared to shout, “Who’s going to give you that!”—not even Makarov.

And Putin’s deputy chief of staff Maksim Oreshkin naively repeated the well-worn phrase that “fifty percent of global economic growth comes from BRICS, while Western countries account for only twenty percent.” No one bothered to clarify what China’s share is within BRICS and what Russia’s is.

But there is, as they say, some good news. The technology tax on electronics may be postponed until December 1, 2026, stated Deputy Minister of Industry and Trade Vasily Shpak. They saved the best for last, but more on that later. I should also note here that when a highly knowledgeable professional, Vnesheconombank’s chief economist Andrey Klepach, declares that everything in the world—including the economy—happens by divine will, it becomes somewhat alarming. However, he was speaking to entrepreneurs, urging them to work not for profit, but for God. Vnesheconombank itself clearly operates on this principle and is therefore planning to cut 15% of its staff due to losses.

Entrepreneurs, one must assume, have already drawn their own conclusions: just in time for the SPIEF, which was actually originally conceived as a forum to attract investment, Rosstat released statistics: business investment in fixed assets has plummeted to a 16-year low. And then: as they say, what kind of investment can there be in this kind of weather?

All alongside the comedy

The naysayers were put to shame—Putin showed up in St. Petersburg.

He spoke to the press. He began, as usual, with successes. It turned out that everything is fine in Russia—it has already seized four Ukraines (“I think, 2,440,000 square kilometers”—the word “thousand” was later removed from the Kremlin website), the offensive is underway on all fronts, it’s still in fourth place in terms of GDP and purchasing power parity, and generally speaking, Vladimir Zelenskyy shouldn’t be writing open letters inviting him to negotiations, but should hold elections instead.

Putin himself participates in elections regularly and does not rule out running in 2030—so he can rule until 2036. And after that, well, whatever God sends his way. And why not—the Constitution will allow it, if it’s amended again.

Of course, everyone noted that Putin doesn’t mention Zelenskyy by name—referring to him, just like Navalny, as “that gentleman.” The association was further reinforced because a memorial service was being held that day at the Borisovskoye Cemetery: it was the politician’s birthday. Of course, everyone noted that Putin was unusually restless and inarticulate. But the morning after the forum’s final day, his press secretary Dmitry Peskov was working hard to build suspense: Putin would speak, and his speech would be quite sensational.

The speech did indeed take place. It seems that the prisoner exchange between Ukraine and Russia served as a guarantee that there would be no drone attacks that day. Putin wasn’t even late. Or rather, he was late—but by a mere 80 minutes; what kind of lateness is that? You can wait hours for a leader.

But then—an hour and a half of stories about how Russia hasn’t even reached Europe’s level yet. Meaning—it hasn’t sunk that low. Europeans have higher debt and lower economic growth (not exactly true, to put it mildly), so we still have room to fall, we do. And anyway, we’re stronger and smarter because we’re more sovereign.


In short, as the controversial governor of the Vologda Region Georgy Filimonov correctly noted earlier, the invasion of Ukraine allowed us to “unlock dormant potential” and ensure “that people stop calling things by their proper names and telling the truth.” There was a brave man after all.

But Putin did hand out a few carrots. First, he announced that the headquarters of major state-owned companies would be relocated there to boost regional development. “Sergey Semyonovich, this won’t hurt the capital,” he said, addressing Sobyanin, who was sitting in the hall. The camera then showed a close-up of Moscow Mayor Sergey Sobyanin. Credit where it’s due—the capital’s mayor certainly knows how to keep a poker face.


Among the state-owned companies slated for relocation to the regions, Putin named Russian Railways, whose debt amounts to a staggering 4 trillion rubles; perhaps Sobyanin was bravely holding back his joy: just think of all the luxury real estate that will become available! And the taxes collected from Russian Railways are already a pittance.

Second, Putin solemnly promised that the business revenue threshold for paying VAT would not be lowered to 10 million, as planned, but would be fixed at the current level of 20 million rubles per year—apparently, this was intended to be the main sensation. Considering that even according to a study by the servile “Opora Rossii,” about a third of small businesses will close due to the current 20-million-ruble threshold, and retail, catering, and services are shifting en masse to the black market—it can’t be said that this “gift” has inspired much enthusiasm. As the old joke about Chapaev goes: he might as well have just chopped us down.

The only interesting thing in his answers to questions was Putin’s admission that he had, in fact, read Zelensky’s open letter: “Peskov slipped me a piece of paper here; I skimmed it.” After that, he spent ten minutes repeating everything he had said earlier. What exactly he said isn’t interesting—what is interesting is how he admitted to reading the letter.

Meanwhile, an exhibition of the nation’s economic achievements continued in the halls of the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum. There was just about everything there! Domestically produced soccer robots falling over and Chinese robots dressed in sarafans. Russian cars, poorly copied from Chinese models.

But the most impressive was the Donetsk separatists’ booth. It featured fragrances associated with the Donbas. For example, “The Tenacity of Metal.” Or “Steppe Wind.” And the biggest hit, of course, was the fragrance “Smoky Slurry Piles.”


No, Colonel Kilgore was sorely missed at the SPIEF. Meanwhile, as the latest video by the rising star Fertoke wittily sings: “Political scientists from all over the world are poking their fingers at the screen.”


Tatyana Rybakova, The Moscow Times