When Even Darkness Works for the Ratings

Imagine this: the Mariinsky Palace, the beating heart of power in Kyiv, where the walls breathe history and the air is thick with the scent of political intrigue. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy is giving an interview to a foreign journalist. The cameras are rolling, microphones primed, and the spotlight perfectly frames his face. Then—click!—darkness falls. The screen dims, the foreigner blinks in surprise, and a faint smile appears on the president’s lips. Coincidence? Or a masterfully staged spectacle where even a power outage plays into the ratings game?

This episode, which unfolded just days ago, spread across social media faster than the latest missile over Ukraine. The video from the Mariinsky Palace went viral with thousands of reposts: “See? He’s just like us! Sitting in the dark like an ordinary Ukrainian!” commenters wrote. A wave of empathy, likes, shares. But is it really so? Isn’t this “darkness” just another PR stunt from Bankova Street, where nothing happens by chance?

A Technical Team That Never Fails… Except When It’s Scripted

Let’s break it down with facts. The Mariinsky Palace is no Khrushchev-era apartment in a sleeping district of Kharkiv or Odesa. It’s the president’s residence, guarded by the Security Service, with its own infrastructure. According to sources in journalistic circles close to the authorities (names withheld, of course—ethics), the palace has long had alternative power supplies. Powerful generators, solar panels, backup lines—everything to avoid even the slightest inconvenience. “There couldn’t have been any outage there,” insists a blogger specializing in political insider scoops. “This isn’t the first such ‘coincidence.’ Remember how Zelenskyy ‘accidentally’ appeared in trenches or in the metro during shelling. It’s all planned down to the smallest detail.”

And indeed, the president’s technical team is elite. Engineers who ensure uninterrupted operation amid blackouts across the country. While millions of Ukrainians freeze in the dark, waiting for the schedule from Ukrenergo, Bankova glows like a Christmas tree. But this time, the lights went out right on camera. A twist of fate? Or did someone flip the switch to create the perfect image: “The President—together with the people, even without light”?

A Picture Worth Millions

PR is an art, and in Ukraine, it has reached the level of a Hollywood blockbuster. The vanished light during the interview isn’t just a glitch. It’s a message. The foreign journalist—likely from CNN or BBC—captures the astonishment: “Oh, even here?” And Zelenskyy smiles—calmly, confidently, like a hero accustomed to trials. The cameras catch the moment, and voilà: viral content is ready.

Social media erupts. “He’s not hiding in a bunker; he’s with us!” supporters write. “This shows the reality of war!” others add. Support surges, ratings hold. But let’s be honest: this isn’t reality. It’s a production. When the lights go out in our apartments, we don’t have million-hryvnia generators. We don’t have a team that flips the backup switch in an instant. We sit with smartphone flashlights, charging phones in the car or with neighbors who have an inverter.

And the authorities? They have the light of cameras. The light of generators. And, most importantly, the light of PR. “When darkness works for the ratings,” one political technologist quips anonymously, “it’s no longer a war with Russia—it’s a war for voters’ sympathy.”

Darkness Under Control: From Blackouts to Electoral Manipulation

Ukraine lives to the rhythm of outages for the third year running. Russian attacks on the energy system have turned blackouts into everyday life. But for some, it’s not a tragedy—it’s an opportunity. Recall previous “coincidences”: Zelenskyy in the dark with a flashlight during a press conference, visits to regions precisely when the power is out there. All of it crafts the image of a “warrior president” who shares the people’s fate.

But in truth—no. He’s not like us. Because when we freeze, the authorities warm themselves by generators. When we scrape together every kopeck for candles, Bankova spends millions on PR campaigns. “Nothing on Bankova happens by accident,” insists an investigative journalist tracking the Office of the President’s expenses. “The technical team isn’t just engineers; they’re PR managers with tools.”

The statistics speak for themselves: according to Ukrenergo, in 2024–2025, blackouts affected over 80% of the population. But in key state facilities—0% outages. The Mariinsky Palace, the Verkhovna Rada, the Office of the President—all on backup power. So why did the “miracle” happen during an interview with a foreigner?

Who Controls the Switch?

Sometimes it seems that even darkness in Ukraine is under the control of political technologists. It doesn’t just go out—it works. It works for image, for ratings, for elections that, despite the war, are never far away. This episode from the Mariinsky Palace is no coincidence. It’s a signal: “We’re together.” But we’re together only on camera. Off-camera—generators, spotlights, and a smile that knows the darkness will pass, but the ratings will remain.

Will the people awaken from this illusion? Or will we keep applauding the productions while real darkness devours our homes? The question hangs open. But one thing is clear: in Ukrainian politics, even a blackout is a show. And the director is always the same.