Putin’s chef could be his successor. Courtesy | Wikimedia Commons
Putin’s chef is preparing his next course.
During the fall of the Soviet Union, Yevgeny Prigozhin, like many young Russians of his generation, sought to make his fortune in the new Russia. While many of the other men who would become oligarchs chose to go into commodities such as oil or natural gas, Prigozhin had a get-rich-quick scheme — selling hot dogs.
Palace intrigue over possible successors dominates external analyses of Putin’s Russia, and Prigozhin is now in a unique position to step forward as a continuation of Putin’s brand. Hot dog salesman to president is not a common pipeline, but it may be on the horizon.
Prigozhin is no longer merely known as “Putin’s Chef” (a nickname acquired due to both his close personal ties to the Russian president and his massive catering business) but as the founder and de facto leader of the Wagner Group, a little-understood and seemingly omnipresent mercenary organization with substantial links to Russian military intelligence. Wherever there is trouble or intrigue, and the Putin administration stands to gain something, Wagner is close behind.
Much of the focus on Wagner has been on its involvement in Syria, where it has aided forces loyal to President Bashar al-Assad in the decade-long civil war, and in Eastern Europe, specifically, Ukraine, where Wagner has served as a front-line unit in the Donbas. However, Wagner’s most unique ability is not as a combat force, but as a tool able to be deployed by the Kremlin in ways not directly attributable to Russia. A private military force, operating with plausible deniability, is the perfect force for an age of rapid breakdown in traditional military and great power competition.
Despite the ongoing Russo-Ukrainian War, Wagner has yet to find its forces locked up in Eastern Europe, but instead, has expanded its footprint in Africa. For instance, following the coup d’état in Sudan which saw the toppling of longtime leader Omar al-Bashir, Wagner mercenaries provided security for the military council which seized power. The French government, which has traditionally had a significant interest in African affairs, accused Wagner of spreading anti-French propaganda and in turn, building up support for Russia in Sudan. In the Central African Republic, Wagner has aided the government in their decade-long civil war — their influence was only ameliorated by the withdrawal of French security forces in 2016.
The expansion of Wagner’s influence over the last few years is not to say, however, that Prigozhin is some sort of spy-thriller mastermind. He is not, to use the title of a recent film, “Everything, Everywhere, All at Once.” The effectiveness of Wagner is not as a peer competitor force, nor as an army in itself that can take on less-powerful nations, but as a group operating as an extension of Russia’s foreign policy, in limited situations and circumstances. In Ukraine, Wagner has been forced to conscript convicted prisoners to fill their ranks, and estimates, although they vary wildly, conservatively say that they have suffered a roughly 30% attrition rate.
Prigozhin has, unlike other oligarchs, made himself both a public and indispensable figure in Russia’s foreign policy. This week, he published a video of himself in a Su-24 bomber, claiming that he had participated in an operation supporting Russian forces in their push to secure the Ukrainian town of Bakhmut. Oligarchs such as Roman Abramovich (the former owner of Chelsea Football Club), have attempted to create separation between themselves and Putin. Prigozhin, on the other hand, has never missed an opportunity to demonstrate his fealty to Putin.
Prigozhin’s possible future ascent hinges on loyalty: the loyalty he displays to Putin, and the loyalty his men have for him. The war in Ukraine has allowed him to expand his power base and has truly made him a force to be reckoned with in future power struggles.
