Vladimir Putin, whatever else one might think of him, has a certain genius for the theatricality of power. Among his many stunts, communing with wild animals has always played a special role. But whereas his previous performances have been displays of manly courage – petting polar bears or tranquilising tigers – on Wednesday seemed to show a gentler side: Putin as good shepherd, albeit to a flock of Siberian white cranes. The message of the underlying symbolism, however, remained the same: that the Russian president is omnipotent and benevolent, sole dispenser of salvation.
The stunt itself was pure pantomime: Putin in a motorised hang-glider showing the innocent young fledglings the way to freedom. In order to convince the cranes that he was their legitimate leader, the head of the Russian state cunningly disguised himself as one of them in an all-white suit with black gloves (they are white with black wingtips). Thus clad, he assumed his natural role as alpha-crane and took off.
Despite the president’s efforts, the birds showed little enthusiasm: only one crane followed the hang glider when Putin flew for the first time, while the other birds sceptically observed from the ground. On a second attempt, however, five cranes took off with Putin, which was regarded by his entourage as good enough. The resident crane experts – who had branded the mission “flight of hope” – explained the lack of engagement on the birds’ side by strong wind, reminiscent of the references to “bad weather” made by election campaigners forced to apologise for the low turnout of pro-Putin voters in their districts.
The Siberian cranes had been born and raised in captivity, so perhaps it is not surprising that they needed some guidance in flying. It might, however, seem surprising that this guidance needed to come from the Kremlin directly. But this is actually entirely in keeping with Putin’s view of his country: Russia is like a zoo, whose dim-witted and potentially dangerous inhabitants, human and animal, must be carefully guided by their keeper.
The ideology of the zoo is that a select few – the human species – have both a right and a duty to nurture and conserve the others. Animals cannot be expected to look after themselves, but must, like the Siberian white cranes, be bred in captivity then taught in which direction to fly. This requires a strictly authoritarian approach: if the lions were to decide for themselves where to take their daily exercise, there would soon be no more zebras. With unreasoning brutes, anything other than a top-down, rule-governed regime would result in chaos and collapse.
Similarly, Putin believes his countrymen to be incapable of looking after themselves. Were it not for a select few – himself and his henchman – they would at best be like chimps at a tea party, at worst, fall upon and devour each other. This is of course the ideology of the benevolent dictatorship, or better the zoo director. The flipside of the white cranes’ flying lesson is locking the animals up at night for their own safety.
But despite the recent images of Pussy Riot behind bars, the real Russia is not quite so full of cages as a zoo. The pantomime of power therefore requires, at least in part, the willingness of the inhabitants to believe in the authority of their benign director. Just as some of the birds went along with Putin’s alpha-crane outfit, some Russians go along with his mantle of benevolent leader. But this year’s protests suggests that others are choosing, like those cranes that stayed firmly on the ground, to see through the costume.