Hubris. Originally a Greek word, in its English and Russian forms it has come to connote arrogance, haughtiness and excessive pride. Perhaps the most apposite definition at a moment when the Russian people stare aghast at their president, Vladimir Putin, and the chaos he is causing would be “overweening presumption”. Whichever definition is preferred, all accurately describe the fatal flaw that has brought Putin, chief architect of the disastrous Ukraine war, to the perilous place he and Russia occupy today.
Facing an armed rebellion led by a man he once counted among his most loyal cronies, Putin seems barely able to believe what is happening in southern Russia. His hasty speech on national television, and the violent and threatening language he employed, well reflected the shock he appeared to be experiencing. How dare Yevgeny Prigozhin, a former Kremlin caterer risibly nicknamed “Putin’s chef”, challenge his authority so fundamentally? The depth of his incredulity is yet another measure of his hubris.
Putin was spitting blood on TV, at least metaphorically speaking. By seizing Rostov-on-Don, Prigozhin and his Wagner group forces were guilty of “armed mutiny”, he snarled. “This is a stab in the back of our troops and the people of Russia.” Yet an even bigger offence, he implied, was their “attempt to subvert us from inside”. Us, meaning Putin himself. Putin knows that, while this may primarily be a military confrontation, it is deeply political – and personal – too.
By taking to the airwaves, vowing vengeance, dramatising the situation with talk of a coup, and claiming “the fate of our people is being decided”, Putin escalated an undoubtedly serious development into a full-blown national crisis. Britain’s Ministry of Defence and others characterise it as the greatest security challenge to his 23-year rule. As a piece of crisis management, it failed. Then again, this is a man who has never faced open, democratic scrutiny, a tyrant who expects people to follow scripts dictated by him, not make them up themselves.
After such a panicky, ill-judged initial response, how Putin handles this crisis will be closely watched at home and abroad. He must, if he can, ensure the loyalty of his generals, the regular armed forces and the tens of thousands of more or less reluctant conscripts. A fierce critic of the high command, Prigozhin has demanded Russia’s top general, Valery Gerasimov, and defence minister, Sergei Shoigu, surrender to him. To comply would be to show fatal weakness.
But what if other elements in the army, navy and air force share Prigozhin’s disdain for the conduct of the war, in which uncounted thousands of Russian troops have lost their lives? Putin may be about to find out. The ease with which Wagner overran Rostov could point to wider disaffection. Russia’s soldiers on the ground in eastern and southern Ukraine are already under intense pressure from Kyiv’s counteroffensive.
This sudden eruption of open dissent is potentially a great boon to Ukraine’s forces. Even if the invaders, demoralised and ill-led, do not actually cut and run right now, the confusion, instability and dissent caused by Wagner’s leader could light the fuse of an even bigger internal explosion down the road – and open the way for gamechanging Ukrainian military advances. By appealing to Russians to reject government lies and corruption, Prigozhin seems increasingly prepared to attack, and undermine, Putin personally.
Politically, too, Ukraine has been presented with a huge opportunity. “Those who said Russia was too strong to lose: look now!” tweeted Dmytro Kuleba, its foreign minister. He called on Kyiv’s western backers to step up the supply of weapons and planes. He’s right; they should, and quickly. But he also went a big step further.
Now was the moment, Kuleba suggested, to go in for the kill, “to put an end to the evil everyone despised but was too afraid to tear down”. Evidently, Kyiv is no longer talking only about a battlefield victory. It is talking about insurrection, about a second Russian revolution, even about western-assisted regime change in Moscow.
Such incendiary discussions make plain what a dangerous moment this is, not only for Putin and his henchmen, and for Ukraine and its brave people, but also for Britain and the rest of the Nato alliance. What has been termed “catastrophic success” for Ukraine could, if it happened, produce a potentially catastrophic, escalatory riposte from the Kremlin. Equally, it could spark civil war in Russia, as some in Kyiv predict.
At this juncture, such grim scenarios are a long way off. Exactly what Prigozhin hopes to achieve remains unclear. He claims he’s not a traitor, only a “patriot” angry at the generals’ bungling. Lacking a response to his demands, he is threatening a “march for justice” to Moscow. It may be bluster. It may not. Whatever transpires in the coming days, one thing is certain: Putin has been seriously, permanently politically weakened. His carefully cultivated domestic aura of omniscience, already tarnished, is fading fast.
Latest reports suggest the Wagner forces have been instructed to halt their advance on Moscow. Further face-saving negotiation is possible, too, although it is hard to see how Prigozhin survives in his current role. By far the best short-term outcome would be for Putin to recognise the extraordinary damage his “special military operation” is doing to Russia as well as to Ukraine, stop the war and withdraw his troops. Sadly, that’s unlikely. Why? It’s that word hubris again.
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