Russia’s Ben Stiller ban is a sign of Putin’s desperation

What do Ben Stiller, Sean Penn, the chairman of the BBC, Piers Morgan, and, er, me, have in common? The answer is that we’ve all been banned from Russia. For some of us, that’s a blow. For others, an irrelevance. But for all of us, it’s a strange accolade: somehow Vladimir Putin’s Kremlin thinks we’re significant, dangerous or hostile enough to need to be kept out at all costs.

What level of insecurity does it take to worry that the screen Zoolander and Harvey Milk, respectively, represent a threat to the stability and integrity of the Russian Federation? And what desperation demands that this be done not quietly, if, as and when the need arose by simply denying a visa application (which is how all states can exclude unwanted visitors), but by a public, open-ended, formal ban?

Sean Penn, to be sure, famously said that he was 'thinking about taking up arms against Russia' (though he concluded that he wouldn’t). Likewise, Ben Stiller, joined the pilgrimage to Kyiv in June, gushing over Ukraine's president Volodymyr Zelensky that 'you are my hero.'

But seriously, so what? The array of Western luvvies eager to display their virtue by leaping on the armoured bandwagon, from Angelina Jolie to the ubiquitous Bono, is an inevitable as it is easy to mock. In some cases, it clearly does reflect a genuine commitment to the cause of Ukraine (in fairness, Stiller is ambassador for UNHCR, the UN refugee agency); in others, a cynic might suggest it is more about a genuine commitment to the cause of their own PR.

Ironically, though, it does matter. Arguably, the greatest danger to Kyiv is not some unexpected Russian military breakthrough, but Ukraine fatigue in the West. The flow of weapons and ammunition is clearly making a real difference on the battlefield, yet perhaps even more important is the financial support that is keeping the Ukrainian economy on life support. Already there have been some signs of faltering commitment.

Beset by soaring energy prices, weary of yet more overt and hidden tax hikes, desperate for some surcease, already many in the West are questioning the scale and nature of our commitment to Ukraine. Even while the Czech government applies draconian controls on Russian students at its universities, for example, 70,000 people protested in Prague, demanding an end to sanctions and new energy deals.

In this context, every little helps. It also helps explain – beyond his own presumed enjoyment of his new cult status as today's Che Guevaraesque icon – Zelenskyy’s frequent appearances at cultural events from the Cannes Film Festival to the Grammy Awards. He is engaged in a desperate struggle to keep his country’s plight visible and relevant (and, for want of a better word, fashionable) in a West which has not in the past distinguished itself by its ability to maintain focus and discipline.

If a documentary from Sean Penn, or a gushing endorsement from Ben Stiller helps stiffen the sinews of policy makers in Brussels or wins over a voter in Bavaria, then this helps Ukraine’s cause.

Besides, there is also a degree of jealousy on Moscow’s part. It is hardly holding its own in this particular ‘star wars.’ Ukraine has a seemingly endless flow of boosters and cheerleaders, but who has Moscow got? Steven Seagal? Even the superannuated Gérard Depardieu, who received Russian citizen in 2013 in a ceremony in which Putin hugged him, has since broken with the Kremlin.

Russia’s bans are always framed as responses to perfidious Western sanctions. However, the West has been kicking out or excluding potential agents and propagandists like TV host Vladimir Solovyov, who has invoked the threat of nuclear Armageddon if Russia continues to be defied, or chair of the National Media Group board (and Putin’s alleged girlfriend) Alina Kabaeva. By contrast, Moscow seems desperately casting around for people to ban, often apparently regardless if they have ever travelled to Russia or show any signs of wanting to do so.

In an age when even luvvies can be weaponised, Russia is becoming aware that while it has in the past been very good at disrupting and undermining the policies and narratives of others, it is proving much less able to mobilise active support for itself. Banning Ben Stiller is a sign of the Kremlin's weakness.