Putin scrapped Russia’s Navy Day parade, not out of caution—but fear—after Ukrainian drones rattled St. Petersburg, exposing cracks in his iron-clad image.
For the first time since it began in 2017, Russia’s grand
Navy Day parade in St. Petersburg was scrapped—and not because of rain, but
because of drones. The large-scale spectacle, usually the Kremlin’s chance to
flex its muscles with warships gliding down the Neva River while President
Vladimir Putin looks on, was yanked from the schedule on Sunday, July 27, 2025.
The official excuse? “Security reasons.” The real story? Ukrainian drones
crashed the party before it even began.
The Kremlin tried to play it cool. Spokesman Dmitry
Peskov vaguely said the cancellation was due to “the general situation” and
stressed that “security reasons are of utmost importance.” But behind that
bland excuse was a very loud message: Russia’s sky is no longer safe, not even
on its most patriotic holidays. Just hours before the event, Ukrainian drones
were spotted buzzing over St. Petersburg, the very city where the parade was
supposed to happen. The aerial attack forced Pulkovo Airport to shut down for five
hours, delaying 57 flights and diverting 22.
In the Leningrad region, officials shot down 10 drones.
But even with most drones intercepted, the damage had been done. One woman was
injured by debris. And Putin, who normally presides over the parade like a
modern-day tsar, vanished from the streets. Instead, he boarded a patrol
speedboat and holed up at the city’s naval headquarters. From there, he watched
naval drills from a safe distance, far from the Neva’s open waters. In a
pre-recorded video, he said, “Today, we are marking this holiday in a working
setting, we are inspecting the combat readiness of the fleet.” Translation:
we’re hiding, not marching.
The parade was supposed to be the centerpiece of Russia’s
Navy Day, a holiday that falls on the last Sunday of July and honors the
country’s sailors. But the only things floating in the sky this year were
Ukrainian drones—and fear. Not since the parade’s creation in 2017 has it been
fully cancelled. Even last year, in 2024, officials merely reduced its size due
to suspected threats. But 2025’s full cancellation made it clear: the bear
is growling, but the airspace is buzzing.
While Putin watched from the sidelines, Russian sailors
and guards of honor gathered in Sevastopol, in the Black Sea, to mark the day
with smaller ceremonies. Meanwhile, over 150 military vessels and 15,000
personnel took part in exercises across the Pacific, Arctic, Baltic, and Caspian
Seas. But none of that could distract from the fact that the crown jewel of the
day—the Neva River parade—was missing in action.
On that same Sunday, the Russian Defence Ministry
reported shooting down 291 Ukrainian fixed-wing drones. While that number was
high, it didn’t break the previous record of 524 drones destroyed on May 7,
just before the Victory Day parade on May 9. But even without a new record, the
sheer volume of drones on such a symbolic day told a story the Kremlin didn’t
want to publish: Ukraine knows where to hit, and it’s hitting close to home.
And what about the optics? A parade without ships is
like a circus without clowns—except this time, the tightrope snapped before
anyone stepped on stage. Putin didn’t wave to the crowds. There were no
tanks rolling through the city. No navy chants echoing over the water. Just the
sound of silence—and sirens.
The cancellation wasn’t just a scheduling change. It was
a massive symbolic retreat. The very thing that was supposed to boost morale
turned into a national embarrassment. While Moscow tried to frame the day as
“business as usual,” the empty streets of St. Petersburg told a different tale:
Russia blinked.
Putin’s choice to observe drills from a boat instead of
standing tall on a parade platform sent a clear message: the skies are too hot,
and the risks too real. The shift from showboating to sheltering marked a
turning point in Russia’s attempt to project dominance. The cancelation didn’t
just stall the parade—it exposed just how vulnerable Russia’s military
celebrations have become.
The most striking image of July 27, 2025, wasn’t a line
of destroyers sailing proudly down the Neva. It was a closed airport, a wounded
civilian, a president in hiding, and a drone-filled sky that silenced one of
the Kremlin’s loudest annual rituals. For a country that prides itself on
control, canceling Navy Day was more than a safety move—it was a sign that fear,
not fireworks, now leads the fleet. Putin's days are, indeed, numbered, as I
always say.
When the sky fills with buzzing bees, even the lion
ducks for cover.
No comments:
Post a Comment