Don't look down, or why Putin needs Musk

Important. Even very important.

Ukrainian journalist Tanya Mykytenko has taken on the daunting task of analyzing Samantha Harvey's novel Orbital, recently awarded the Booker Prize. The book, which many describe as more of an essay, has puzzled readers and critics alike. At just 130 pages, it features a stylistically unpolished narrative that could well have been AI-generated. The story follows six astronauts aboard a spacecraft as they prepare for a Moon landing. Orbiting Earth 16 times a day, they contemplate their universal unity and shared responsibility for the planet, repeatedly invoking the phrase “mother, mother, mother”—repeated a dozen times, seemingly to fill space.

The makeup of this "global rescue crew" is telling: an American, a Brit, an Italian, a Japanese woman, and two Russians—one of whom is the ship’s captain (!). Essentially, it's like the band Zemlyane on repeat: “Earth in the porthole, Earth in the porthole.” And so it goes for 130 pages.

Tanya Mykytenko has brilliantly uncovered a crucial link in the Kremlin's plans for world domination that had been eluding public commentators.

This may sound like utter madness, but when you think about it, all the pieces fall into place. Modern Russia, as optimistic political analysts often point out, lacks (unlike the USSR) a universal ideology to attract the world. 

The image of a “country of high culture,” painstakingly crafted through "soft power" like the Bolshoi Theater and Tolstoyevsky, has been severely tarnished by its full-scale invasion of Ukraine. However, it appears the Kremlin no longer seeks to charm the global masses. Instead, its appeal targets global elites, offering salvation from impending catastrophes via space expeditions. (Please, don’t laugh—this isn’t a joke!)

Remember the finale of Don't Look Up? Musk will take only “Putin's friends” to Mars—the “elite of humanity.” Russia has something to offer not just to Trump but to the world’s unpolished billionaires, many of whom have already secured lunar plots or bunkers deep in Africa in fear of nuclear winter. Birds of a feather flock together. Yes, the idea seems psychopathic—but if you take this year’s Booker seriously, you might see a well-organized presentation of Roscosmos as humanity’s savior from global ecological disaster.

Hanna Ulyura previously reviewed Orbital, critiquing it as a literary scholar shocked by its mediocrity and the undeserved prize. Mykytenko, however, approached it through the lens of show business and skillfully deciphered the 130 pages of anti-literature (with a possibility that Samantha Harvey simply lent her name to a Russian-crafted project). This appears to be an expertly executed product placement for Russia and Roscosmos. 

The text incorporates everything from the golden-domed churches of Samara and Tolyatti (allegedly visible from space, while all of Eastern Europe blurs together) to the Kuril Islands as “a bridge between Russia and Japan,” ignoring the fact that their Japanese name is nothing like "Kuril." It also references Sergey Krikalev, the last Soviet cosmonaut, whose mission coincided with the USSR’s collapse. Now representing Sevastopol in Moscow (!) and serving as Putin’s space advisor, Krikalev looms over the international crew like a God-the-Father figure of the new world—one of three real-life personalities in this otherwise fantastical novel.

Literature has nothing to do with it—this is pure political and marketing technology, and this 'Booker' must have taken years to prepare and cost Russia a fortune.

Once upon a time, Putin managed to fool the U.S. (George W. Bush) with the idea of a "joint fight against terrorism." Who, after listening to Trump, would doubt that he could just as enthusiastically buy into the idea of "joint space colonization"? This would allow him to feel secure in the face of all the ecological disasters scientists warn about—climate change, global floods and droughts, or even nuclear catastrophe. (Which, you can easily predict, Moscow will talk about increasingly loudly and threateningly to create an atmosphere of growing panic among those the Kremlin deems worth engaging with.)

The key point is that these people actually think this way—they might even be almost sincere in their dystopian visions (to the extent that "sincerity" can be applied to them at all). And while we might roll our eyes in disbelief, the fact remains: planetary resources are in their hands. Now, a whole Booker Prize jury has unanimously signed on to the information campaign "Russia as the savior of the planet." (This infuriates me personally, too—back in 2022, when Samantha Harvey agreed to this scheme, I was writing The Longest Journey and using every available platform to argue why Russia must collapse: because in the 21st century, a resource-based empire is ecologically unsustainable. And yet, here we are—they don’t even plan on being sustainable. Like complete fools, they believe buying Musk will guarantee them, as in Don't Look Up, safe transport to other worlds if the worst happens. No comments.)

(If only you idiots would hurry up and relocate to those other worlds already!)

So yes, Putin does have something to offer Trump—this is no irony. The question is, what percentage of reasonably-minded individuals in Trump’s circle could act as a counterbalance?

And here it will be fascinating to see if anyone from the intellectual elite of the English-speaking world raises an eyebrow at Orbital.

Let’s keep an eye on it.

*Published with the author's original style preserved.

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About the author. Oksana Zabuzhko, writer.

The editors don't always share the opinions expressed by the blog authors.