Assassinations and Protestors

Alexander II, renowned for his liberation of the serfs in 1861, survived more assassination attempts than any other Russian Tsar. Three were unsuccessful. But on 1 March 1881, when he was traveling to the Winter Palace in his enclosed bullet-proof carriage (a gift from Napolean III), the roulette wheel spun in a different direction. Members of the radical terrorist group People's Will awaited his entourage on a strategic corner near the Catherine Canal (today Canal Griboedova). Two bombs were thrown but they missed the carriage and landed amid the accompanying Cossack guard. Once again, Alexander had escaped unharmed. Make that 3.5 survived assassination attempts. And had he but remained in his carriage and headed for safety like a bat out of hell, he could well have survived the next terrorist installment. Instead he imprudently insisted on checking the condition of the wounded Cossacks, and at this unprotected moment, a third bomb was thrown. It exploded near the Tsar's feet, blowing off his legs; fragments of clothing, epaulets, and bloody chunks of human flesh lay scattered in the snow. Shortly thereafter, he died from his wounds. Ironically, earlier that day liberal (by Russian Tsarist standards) Alexander had taken the monumental step (for autocratic Tsarist Russia) of approving the creation of two legislative commissions consisting of indirectly elected representatives. Russian history might have taken a more peaceful and pleasant course if this progressive action had not been repealed by his reactionary son and heir.


Meanwhile, on the site of Alexander's assassination was built one of St. Petersburg's most iconic landmarks, the Church on Spilled Blood, replete with fantastical onion-shaped domes and elaborate decorations, and it was here that the most recent demonstration against Putin took place on 4 February.

Despite the really frigid temperatures -- it's hovering around -5 degrees Fahrenheit [!] -- the turnout is large for Petersburgian circumstances, at least 5,000 people.  The usual anti-Putin sentiment is present in full force and the chants that receive the most enthusiastic cries from the crowd are "Putin is a Crook!" and "Russia without Putin!" 

"Down with the Autocracy!"

Or more simply:  "Putin, you're an idiot!"

And referring to the fact that Putin is a native Petersburg boy, the sign in the back reads "Putin, Petersburg is ashamed of you!"

Supporters of all factions have appeared: the monarchists, the communists, the nationalists, the liberals, the imperialists, the radicals and those of no particular party who simply want to revel in the excitement. It's a colorful mixture and one of the speakers addresses this point, shouting, "We stand under flags of different color, but we are united in one thing! Putin must go!"

The slogan on the balloons reads "For a dignified life".

The Communists are out in full force, and in fact, after Putin, received the most support in the preliminary (rigged?) elections back in December. 

 "Our cause is just. We will be victorious."

A rather disturbing placard among this Babylon of philosophies is the one supporting well-groomed Stalin. 

As always, the riot police stand ready at edge of the crowd, present and alert, but not aggressive.

In the midst of the gathered masses, I run into Red Kirill. He never misses a chance to demonstrate against Putin, no matter how wretched the weather, and he's easy to spot in his omnipresent red clothing amidst the general basic black. We grab some steamily hot tea that's being dispensed free of charge on the edge of the demonstration and Kirill makes reference to the plethora of groups, organizations, and parties, saying, "Yes, yes, of course they're all against Putin, what else do you expect? But that, my dear, is where the agreement ends. They all have very different ideas of what should happen once he's gone. Oh no, there's no common understanding there. That will be an entirely different story!"

In fact, some of this dissonance appears on the stage when a nationalist speaker denounces homosexuals. The crowd starts booing, people shout, jeer, cheer, and shortly thereafter he's more or less pushed off the stage.

The elections are one month away: 4 March is the day of decision.  But even most of the protestors realize that no matter what happens at these demonstrations, Putin will be victorious. Kirill also agrees with this assessment and says that things are only going to get worse, worse, worse.  We're completely frozen by now and despite fierce political convictions, decide to ditch the demonstration to pick up some piping hot donuts and coffee at a nearby trendy ex-Soviet cafe. As we walk off, we see one last sign:

"My grandma sent me to get milk.  I'm here by accident."