The hawk pretended to be a white crane
Gleb Pavlovsky, who helped Putin win the 2000 presidential election and was spotted among the protesting masses on May 6, posted this image on his wall, archly noting that the planned stunt looked like the painting of Russian primitivist Pavel Leonov, called “Brave Russian Icaruses, in Alliance with the Eagles, Save People of Good Will From Predators.”
Victor Shenderovich, once a kind of Russian Jon Stewart, wrote the following on his Facebook wall: “A few journalists have already called me for comment, but when they get to the subject on which I am to comment, ALL of them started cracking up. And that, I guess, is my comment.”
KermlinRussia, the wildly popular Тwitter parody of the Kremlin, quipped: “The Kremlin press service doesn’t know what other signal to send to Russian citizens so that they finally understand that the national leader has finally gone batshit crazy.”
Most of the other jokes are hard to translate or would take too long to explain, but it should tell you something when a major Russian news portal reports on its own staff trying to make up witty limericks about the presidential flight.
This morning, on his way to the APEC summit in Vladivostock, Putin arrived at the aviary in Yamal, had some tea with the ornithologists, donned a white suit and a helmet. In the end, there was no beak, and the images were quite sedate. There was a strange video of the president sitting, arms folded, and warmly eyeing the cranes to the awkward sound of the creaking hangglider.
But the damage had been done. Putin, who is known to think these stunts up himself, was once a man feared and reviled—for his KGB background, for his posh lifestyle, for his vindictive, aggressive style. Now, even as his state turns the screws on the opposition, he is seen as a ridiculous man, deeply out of touch not only with the political reality, but with reality in any wider sense of the word. If it is better to be feared than loved, it is definitely better to feared than laughed at.
By Julia Ioffe