Reality was a plaything for those who ran the Kremlin throughout the Soviet years, and Putin has followed, if a little more subtly, in this tradition.
Maybe the Kremlin really has flown in O. J. Simpson to help track down the “real killers” of former Wagner boss Yevgeny Prigozhin.
The Kremlin said on Wednesday that investigators were considering the possibility that the plane carrying mercenary chief Yevgeny Prigozhin was downed on purpose, the first explicit acknowledgement that he may have been assassinated.
Say it ain’t so.
Reuters:
“It is obvious that different versions are being considered, including the version – you know what we are talking about – let’s say, a deliberate atrocity,” Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov told reporters when asked about the investigation. . . .
The Kremlin has rejected as an “absolute lie” the suggestion by some Western politicians and commentators — for which they have not provided evidence — that Putin ordered Prigozhin to be killed in revenge.
Writing for UnHerd before this, uh, Kremlin bombshell, Ian Garner floats the idea that Prigozhin, now conveniently dead, may be on his way to reinvention:
Neither we nor the Russian public will know what really happened any time soon, even if Western intelligence agencies currently favour the bomb story. Such is the nature of Russia’s media. The aim of propagating material is not the dissemination or discovery of the truth, but the creation of a malleable reality where anything can become possible — and where the life of Prigozhin can be rewritten into the state’s chosen narrative.
Reality was a plaything for those who ran the Kremlin throughout the Soviet years, particularly under Stalin, when heroes were overnight transformed into villains, or just expunged from the record altogether, and when the country was captivated by spectacular narratives of treachery and triumph that were no more than useful illusions.
Putin has followed, if a little more subtly, in this tradition, whether in using his then-adviser, Vladislav Surkov, to play post-modernist games with the truth in the earlier years of this century (something ably described by Peter Pomerantsev in his book Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible, which I reviewed here for NR) or in creating a skillfully rewritten version of history designed to underpin his rule, and, now, “justify” the obliteration of Ukraine.
Garner:
Reports on the circumstances of Prigozhin’s death have been bland…The few obituaries published have been equally unremarkable. The “businessman and founder of Wagner PMC” had a long career as the founder of a catering company, but his military activity in Ukraine is deserving only of a brief and vague footnote. Pravda, Russia’s newspaper of record, has published a paltry seven stories mentioning Prigozhin in the last three days. The fired general Sergey Surovikin, meanwhile, has featured in eight articles in the same time period. It seems that, for the time being, the Russian newspapers are more interested in the fate of the glamorous stewardess killed in the Tver plane crash than in Prigozhin.
Yet by shifting the focus away from Prigozhin the sadistic warlord, the Kremlin will have the chance to slowly rewrite his story in the public eye. Indeed, early signs suggest that Prigozhin is to be commemorated as an exemplary military hero, a man whose sole fault was that his patriotism was so fierce as to force him into a confrontation with the apathetic elites holding back the war effort.
A leading article for Pravda signalled this shift. Prigozhin, the man who mere weeks ago had been threatening to unleash violence on Moscow and execute the Minister of Defence, is now “the most controversial but tough and straight-talking patriot and hero of Russia… a symbol of honour, courage, and the motherland”. This Prigozhin is a man who “forced senior officials to listen to the voice of the people”: the latest in a long line of Russian historical courtiers who have pluckily alerted the tsar to the incompetence and malice of those surrounding the country’s leader. The article concludes on a note of tangible, shared grief: “We are saying goodbye to an epochal man, a heroic man, a legendary man.” In this way, Prigozhin’s death is transformed from Putin’s deadly revenge on a political opponent, a moment to reject a dangerous enemy, into a national tragedy — an outlet for patriots of all stripes to mourn the death of a great man….
If the story of Prigozhin the hero is indeed the narrative to be disseminated, Russian audiences will likely accept it without question. Early survey data suggests that Prigozhin’s reputation in death is not that of a traitor. When as few as 8% of Russians are willing to state that Putin likely killed the Wagner leader, we cannot expect public opposition to a posthumous rehabilitation to be vocal. For Wagnerites, Prigozhin is to be treated with respect and accorded a place in Russia’s pantheon of military martyrs (albeit there will be vocal, and potentially violent, dissenters). For others, the coup leader will become a man who simply could not control his genuine desire to fight on behalf of “the common good”— even if that meant upsetting a few Kremlin military elites, who are widely viewed as corrupt kleptocrats. Putin, meanwhile, has clean hands.
Prigozhin’s death has provided Putin with an arsenal of political ammunition. A man made by his own relentless PR will be remade by the state’s PR machine in death. In Russia’s pantomime existence, where reality is reshaped as easily as modelling clay, yesterday’s treacherous coup leader can become today’s fallen hero — while the President emerges, yet again, unscathed.
“Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia.”