One dead mutineer

Not that he really merits an obituary, but the death yesterday (Wednesday evening in Europe) of mercenary leader and war criminal Yevgeny Prigozhin should not be allowed to pass without comment.

As you’ve probably heard, Prigozhin, the head of the Wagner group, was killed when his private jet crashed on a flight from Moscow to St Petersburg. His close colleagues Dmitry Utkin and Valeriy Chekalov and the seven other people on board (including three crew) were also killed. No official cause of the crash has been announced – and none is ever likely to be universally believed – but the most popular suggestion is that there was a bomb on the plane, although it could also have been shot down by Russian air defences.

There is no reason to doubt that Prigozhin’s death was ordered by Vladimir Putin. He has shown himself many times to have no scruples about assassination of his opponents, and Prigozhin has been a marked man ever since his coup attempt two months ago. Even if, by some bizarre coincidence, Putin is innocent, he would never be able to convince world opinion of the fact. His comments overnight conspicuously failed to deny responsibility.

Nor will many tears be shed for Prigozhin. Many will be marvelling, however, that after calling off his rebellion in June he should have apparently placed so much faith in Putin’s word. A man who was more sensitive to the precedents and less convinced of his own indestructibility would have made himself scarce, hoping to wait out the Putin regime in hiding somewhere. Instead, Prigozhin remained highly visible, doing all but paint a target on his own back.

The result may, as some have speculated (and as is obviously the intention), make future dissenters think twice before taking on Putin. But it may also ensure that anyone who does will make a point of following through. The next rogue commander who marches on Moscow won’t easily be persuaded to give up half way.

While the assassination exposes yet again the brutality of Putin’s rule, it is less blameworthy than many of Putin’s crimes. No ruler can be expected to treat military rebellion with sunny tolerance; it is a gambit that only success can justify. Everyone will have their own favorite examples: I thought of 1685, when the Duke of Monmouth, an illegitimate son of Charles II, claimed the throne and launched a rebellion against the legitimate king, James II. He was defeated and duly executed.

As Macaulay, who (to put it mildly) was no admirer of James II, remarked, “The King cannot be blamed for determining that Monmouth should suffer death. Every man who heads a rebellion against an established government stakes his life on the event …”. And he summed up Monmouth’s plight in words that could serve as an epitaph for Prigozhin: “He had done that which could never be forgiven. He was in the grasp of one who never forgave.”

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UPDATE Saturday morning: The Kremlin’s spokesman has now officially denied responsibility for the crash, which of course will convince almost exactly no-one.

UPDATE Monday: Matthew Sussex at the Conversation now has a very good review of the case. This is his conclusion:

But despite his colourful CV, one suspects his real legacy will be that in abortively mounting a challenge to Moscow’s established power structures, Prigozhin ultimately established a precedent for one that succeeds.