In the face of mutiny, humiliated Putin didn’t know what to do. We should worry about what he’ll do next
When something incomprehensible happens, it can be reassuring to fall back on old cliches. Churchill’s famous description of Russia as “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma,” summarises what many Russia analysts feel after the aborted armed rebellion led by Wagner commander Yevgeny Prigozhin this weekend. While answers remain elusive, some elements seem important to help navigate through the fog.
There are powerful arguments that Vladimir Putin has been weakened by Prigozhin’s armed rebellion. For the first time in 23 years, many Russians will have woken up on Saturday morning wondering whether their president was still in control. Then, hours after a visibly shaken Putin announced that traitors would be punished, charges against Prigozhin were dropped, and his armed men, who allegedly shot down a transport plane and at least two helicopters (the exact number is still unconfirmed), killing a number of highly skilled military pilots, were given security guarantees.
This indicates that Putin had to make concessions to Prigozhin, and in a country where a social media post criticising the army carries a potential prison sentence, the gap between the rich and powerful and ordinary citizens has been unashamedly confirmed in full public view. The Russian army, which has stagnated on the Ukrainian front for months, was unable – or unwilling – to stop Wagner’s advance through swathes of Russian territory.
Putin’s unspoken contract with the Russian people is that in exchange for democratic freedoms he gives them stability and security. This contract has been broken. In a democracy all of the above would spell political death. But Russia is neither a democracy nor a functioning state. The only way to make sense of what happened in the past few days is to view events through the prism of a feud between criminal gangs in which each mafia boss holds so much leverage over the other that the balance of power can easily tip either way. The fact that Prigozhin is still alive indicates that whatever he holds over Putin is so damaging, and so well protected by unseen allies, that it is safer for Putin to allow him to live – for now.
In the days leading to Wagner’s rebellion, Prigozhin multiplied his harangues against the defence establishment, but was careful to spare Putin. After the president’s address to the nation, in which he firmly came down on the side of the military, Prigozhin’s gloves came off. This suggests that until the last minute Prigozhin was unsure who Putin would back and that he expected political support from the top. This never materialised, either from politicians or top army brass. This is a defeat for Prigozhin. Moreover, his escapade smoked out any traitors in Putin’s entourage. In this sense, Putin comes out stronger in the short term.
There are two factors Putin will have to contend with if he is to consolidate this small victory.
In a dictatorship that likes to pretend to be a democracy, the fractures within the regime that this rebellion revealed will have to be dealt with through tighter repression and even more control of the media. A whipping up of patriotic frenzy and a few – preferably foreign – scapegoats would wrap things up nicely. Prigozhin’s 25,000 men, who were prepared to march against the regular army, will also need to be managed.
Add to these the approximately 32,000 demobilised ex-Wagner troops
who were put on standby through Prigozhin’s networks when the rebellion began, and the Russian state now has to deal with close to 60,000 angry men with combat experience, some of whom are still armed and most of whom have criminal backgrounds. Some, particularly those who feel betrayed by Prigozhin, may be lured into the regular army. The others will pose a threat to the social order unless they are brought under control through fear or violence. The future looks bleak.
At the time of writing, Wagner posters are being torn down throughout Russia. But the fact that Prigozhin is still alive suggests he still has a role to play. In Belarus, he will be safely out of Putin’s way but close enough to be of use. It is unlikely that Alexander Lukashenko, the Belarusian dictator, played a significant role in the deal cut between Prigozhin and Putin. Russian sources argue that Aleksey Dyumin, the governor of Tula oblast where Prigozhin’s army stopped, and Nikolai Patrushev, the powerful head of the Russian security council, were the chief negotiators. Dyumin is a former Putin bodyguard and viewed by many as a potential successor to Putin who incarnates loyalty, youth and fresh blood.
Lukashenko will have obediently done what his master ordered as the frontman for the negotiations, thus preserving Putin and his protege from being tainted by association with Prigozhin. If he really does end up in Belarus, Prigozhin may be the catalyst to finally drag Belarusian men into the war without Lukashenko having to send his regular army, something he has resisted in spite of pressure from Putin. Imagine a Wagner group re-registered in Minsk, able to recruit Belarusian convicts or otherwise coerce Belarusian men into the war. The number of men may not be enough to make serious incursions into Ukraine but would force the Ukrainians to reinforce their northern border, thus taking away men from the frontlines in the east and south.
While a successful rebellion would have served Ukraine, at least in the short term, it is now likely that a humiliated but rebooted Putin will renew attacks with more intensity.
If round one of Prigozhin v the Russian establishment went to Prigozhin on Saturday morning, Putin had made a comeback by the afternoon. Dog eats dog but while they hold each other by the tail, neither has a clear advantage. Either way, Ukraine will need even more western support as Russia teeters on the brink between chaos and absolute dictatorship.
Samantha de Bendern is an associate fellow in the Russia and Eurasia Programme at Chatham House and a political commentator on LCI television in France
are caught in the bandwagon spokes: mangled and traduced.
Sarah Lyall, who once covered London for the New York Times, described the Daily Mail’s unofficial motto as “What fresh hell is this?”, and that aptly describes how we are primed to react with hostility to those who do not conform to a strict identity and economic profile. You must not need, you must not be different, you must not imagine or demand new ways of being, all while being reassured that we are out of the woods, that Britain is in fact, an exceptionally tolerant and liberal place.
Which it is, when it is allowed and encouraged to be. When it’s not, that paradise of tolerance may, to some, seem to be all around, but to others it’s constantly just out of reach. That state calls to mind the anguish of Mephistopheles, Satan’s emissary to Doctor
Faustus, when he is asked how he can be damned when he is on Earth. “Why, this is hell,” he says. “Nor am I out of it.” Nor are we. But we could be. Which is why it’s important to learn about the things that never happened.
Nesrine Malik is a Guardian columnist
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