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Four years ago, President Vladimir Putin offered Moscow and its business elite a real deal: Support my war in Ukraine, and you won’t have to think about it in return. In the last week, the plan was broken.
Not that Moscow was completely immune: As long ago as May 3, 2023, the first two Ukrainian drones to arrive in Moscow exploded over the Kremlin, causing no damage but revealing that the capital’s air defenses were not as good as advertised—and that war was not as far off as Muscovites thought. Finally, the Ukrainians shifted their efforts towards Moscow’s airports, using drones several times to circle the runways or around the airports, deliberately creating chaos and costs of transportation.
Last week, the noise of flying drones was again heard in the city of Moscow. On the morning of May 7, the mayor of Moscow he announced that the Russian air force had shot down hundreds of Ukrainian drones targeting the city. Two days later, Moscow was to host Russia’s annual May 9 military parade, a celebration closely linked to the Russian president, Vladimir Putin, who revived this Soviet-era celebration of Stalin’s victory over Nazi Germany and his conquest of Europe.
Suddenly, and very publicly, Russian officials seemed worried, fearing that their parade would be ruined. Russia’s foreign minister issued a threat, promising “no mercy,” whatever, if the Ukrainians marched. Kremlin spokesman guaranteed Muscovites that security was tight because “threat from Kyiv government” had already been considered. The Russian president even persuaded the US president to ask the Ukrainian president for a one-day ceasefire. Volodymyr Zelensky agreed to Putin’s demands, after Trump offered to exchange 1,000 prisoners of war. Zelensky then issued a loud, droll order, giving Putin permission to parade.
The tone of official Russian communication has changed, and it is not surprising: Three years after the first drones exploded in the Kremlin, and more than four years into a conflict that was supposed to be nothing more than a “special military operation,” Muscovites have no choice but to think about war. The supposed security measures—some think it’s a form of censorship—had already made cellphone service in Moscow and across Russia unreliable, sometimes non-existent. Although Russians had already lost access to many types of Western social networks, in April the state cut off access even with the Russian-built Telegram app, as well as many VPNs. Without a public network, many physical systems, including ATMs, too it stopped working. Driving apps also don’t work. The disruption comes on top of high inflation and high interest rates that have hit even Russia’s wealthiest businesses and consumers for months.
The war, and the Kremlin’s concern about the war, is also finally now visible in the streets. In short, the time of Putin’s former ally The very short rebellion of Yevgeny Prigozhin in 2023, Muscovites were told to stay at home for fear of violence. For the past several days, they were again put on high alert. According to a diplomat of my acquaintance, hackers were seen in and around Red Square, before the parade, along with soldiers armed with anti-drone weapons. Ordinary people were prevented from entering the city center. Photos taken on the day of the parade show empty streets.
Russians watching the parade from afar would also notice some differences. Few foreign dignitaries bothered to show up this year, and no tanks, missiles, or fighting vehicles were on display. The entire show was short, lasting only 45 minutes. Putin looked gray, worried. North Korean honor troops, marching alongside the Russians, produced only novels. But their presence was a reminder of the thousands of North Koreans who died helping Russia retake its Kursk province, which Ukrainian forces occupied for eight months in 2024-25. Also, as the only foreigners present in large numbers, the North Koreans sent an ominous message about the current state of Russian cooperation.
Of course, it was just a parade. But the anniversary is important because Putin thinks it’s important. He resurrected The celebration of May 9 in its current form in 2008, deliberately chose to celebrate the time of the imperial victory of Moscow, when Stalin controlled the entire area between Moscow and Berlin. Perhaps not coincidentally, Russia invaded the former Soviet republic of Georgia later that year.
The carefully cultivated cult of World War II dates back to Soviet times, but Putin has nurtured and expanded it. The fall of the Soviet empire in 1989 and the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 sparked a deep nostalgia for 1945, and Putin has been fueling that nostalgia for more than two decades. During that time, he also built that nostalgia into the fabric of the city of Moscow and other cities across Russia, adding and expanding memorial statues and brutal memorials that glorify those who died in heroic battles.
Now, finally, the cult of war has caught up with him. Putin knows he can’t live up to the myths he’s created, and everyone can see that too. His unnecessary, illegal and brutal war in Ukraine has already lasted longer than Russia’s war against the Nazis, kill or injure more than one million Russian soldiers and produced no military, political or any other kind of success. On the contrary: He cannot even hold a parade in Moscow without fear that the Ukrainians will disrupt it.
That doesn’t mean his war in Ukraine is over, or that Putin’s rule is over. But it means that Russians in general, and Muscovites in particular, can now clearly see the difference between propaganda and reality. A void has opened, and sooner or later something else, or someone else, will fill it.
