The Shock In St. Petersburg Was Immense
1- 23.10.2026, 11:31
Russian capitals have never seen anything like this before.
The strikes by Ukrainian drones don’t fit into the kind of theatrics the regime is used to staging around St. Petersburg. For the first time, city residents have felt the impact of this war firsthand and now must wade through the mountains of ideological garbage piled up by the authorities.
The six-hour drone attack that St. Petersburg endured on the night of October 18 is an everyday occurrence in Ukrainian cities. But Russian capitals have never seen anything like this before. The shock from the widespread explosions and fires was immense in St. Petersburg.
Siren alarms that didn’t go off
Governor Beglov has decided not to appear in public for the time being. He communicates with city residents through correspondence and statements on Telegram. As for Putin, he couldn’t even find a word of comfort for his stricken “little homeland.”
Their silence stems not only from cynicism but also from the difficulty of the situation. The regime constantly and intrusively uses St. Petersburg as an ideological tool. The cult of the Siege is one of the central tenets of its “religion of victory.” The reality of the war being waged here and now is incompatible with this cult.
Putin has taken the popular notions of the Siege of Leningrad—which were already false, drawn from melodramatic Soviet films—and shifted them into a thoroughly farcical register.
During the bloody invasion of Ukraine, the authorities repeatedly staged “reenactments” of the past in the city, in the style of glossy TV series: scenes “from life during the blockade” were acted out on the streets, and “blockade bread” was handed out to onlookers.
The cinematic symbols of the siege—the ticking of a metronome, the beams of searchlights sweeping across the sky, and, especially, the ominous wail of sirens—are constantly trotted out by the authorities for ritual purposes. The authorities were simply not prepared for the possibility that St. Petersburg’s sirens would have to be used for their intended purpose in a real war. That would have disrupted the harmony of their pagan rituals.
So they didn’t even turn on the sirens during the air raid. They sent out warning text messages, although this method doesn’t work well at night. In response to numerous criticisms, city officials argued that turning on the sirens would only cause panic among residents. People would rush out into the streets and start running around in a panic.
They also explained that they are not authorized to post the addresses of bomb shelters in building entrances. Some of them even believe that the addresses of bomb shelters are classified. Let the residents stay calm and remain in their apartments.
The regime is waging war, but the propagandistic St. Petersburg to which it has grown accustomed does not fit into this reality. It is part of a state-ritualized Russia preserved in the past, which is supposed to be spoken of with reverence and not conflated with the “special military operation.” And now that the two have collided, the authorities simply don’t know what to say.
Righteous anger in short supply
Ordinary city residents seem less at a loss. When judging the mood of St. Petersburg residents based on conversations on online forums, one must take into account that not everyone speaks up there. Still, more people do so than in other public spaces. And the general direction of their thoughts is clear.
Of course, you’re looking for answers to two questions. Has an anti-Ukrainian patriotic surge begun in St. Petersburg following the airstrike? Or, on the contrary, has public anger turned against Putin’s regime?
The first question is easier to answer. On all platforms—except for the militaristic ones—there is almost no righteous anger directed at Ukrainians. And even the Zetniks aren’t so much indignant as they are, in their usual routine manner, telling Ukrainians to “expect gifts. “For every such outburst, it will hurt you more and more.”
And they know which direction the drones came from. It turns out they came from Estonia, sneaking up on St. Petersburg through the Baltic states. To them, this is almost obvious. After all, otherwise they would have been shot down. Hence the additional targets of the threats: “Maybe we should send 300 ‘unknown’ drones to Riga and Tallinn for a change? It’s about time.”
Although such comments don’t come from professional propagandists but rather, it seems, from ordinary people—some of whom even hide their identities—they don’t appear spontaneous. This narrative has been repeated throughout the entire five years of the war, using the exact same phrasing.
On all other platforms—especially the more-visited ones, whether crypto-liberal or apolitical—anti-Ukrainian sentiment is scarce, but other emotions run more strongly.
The leader’s catchphrase
Belova is disliked and called the “invisible governor,” but she is rarely mentioned. On the other hand, there are plenty of comments about Putin.
“And the rat is in its hole. It’s safe there”…
“Grandpa will never end this, because if he did, he’d go down in history as a failure—and in his old age, he’s developed a passion for achieving great things; money doesn’t matter to him like it used to”…
“Thanks to our president—if it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be raising these issues; he does everything to ensure the people engage in dialogue and rally around him”…
Petersburgers are certainly familiar with these catchphrases of Putin’s origin. Everyone plays off them. For example, regarding the reasons behind the drone raid:
“I wonder if the Pechenegs and Polovtsians have anything to do with this? Or will they urgently start looking for killer whales biting white bears?”
But for some reason, the most popular of Putin’s sayings among St. Petersburgers is “the action,” proclaimed by the leader at the end of the year before last:
“Thanks to the big boss—he organized the ‘action’”
“Grandpa isn’t bored. The party’s going according to plan.”
“The party’s director is mostly asleep.”
“The party—nothing to worry about. Everything’s going according to plan.”
The audience jokes
This is precisely the kind of helpless, self-soothing humor that is so familiar to us, people of the Soviet generation. Back then, everyone was always cracking jokes. This didn’t lead to any actions hostile to the regime, nor even to any particular disobedience.
It doesn’t seem to lead to that now, either. When it comes to political solutions, they’re comical:
“No way—11 trillion from the defense budget has vanished somewhere among the generals sitting in prison and their wives with Israeli passports. Let the investigators squeeze every last kopeck out of them and return it to the budget.”
“Goodness gracious, when will this end? — It depends on the results of the 2030 election. — Can’t we have early elections? Because 26 years isn’t just too long—it’s downright ridiculous. — Even 30. As long as it’s not someone like Zelya”…
Of course, not all St. Petersburgers are concerned about “Zelya,” but everyone who speaks up sees themselves only as spectators and never as participants in events:
“I wish the war would end soon. — What’s the point? They attack us, we attack them. It’ll go on like this forever. — I’m afraid they’ll just use people as cannon fodder. They’ll organize a mob and that’ll be it…”
***
St. Petersburg is clearly in a patient mood. And for an indefinite period of time. And yet, even if it’s passive, there is discontent. Putin really does have reasons not to rush into addressing his fellow countrymen. The ideological garbage he’s used to spewing is of no use to anyone here.
Since the start of this war, the public seemed ready to adapt to the regime without limit. Perhaps that’s no longer the case. At least, not in the ruler’s home region.
Sergei Shelin, The Moscow Times
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