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The author serves as a senior fellow at the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center in Berlin and is a visiting fellow at the European University Institute in Florence.

Vladimir Putin appears to have faced his most significant domestic challenge since the Chechen war that marked the beginning of his rule. However, Putin’s allies, both within Russia and internationally, are not rushing to offer him their congratulations. The sentiment among the elite and the tone of state propaganda reflect a mood that is far from triumphant. The mere possibility of a coup after 23 years of governance—especially in the second year of the Ukraine conflict, which was supposed to glorify Putin and his administration—casts serious doubt on his control over Russia. This situation also challenges the notion of unanimous support from a patriotic majority.

The dramatic takeover of Rostov-on-Don, one of Russia’s major cities, by Wagner Group leader Yevgeny Prigozhin, along with their rapid advance towards Moscow, painted a stark picture of governmental vulnerability, even if this was partially attributed to a desire to avoid bloodshed. Some residents of Rostov even greeted the mutineers with flowers, symbolically re-enacting the gestures typically associated with uprisings. This action starkly contrasts with the state narrative that positions “color revolutions” as the ultimate betrayal, highlighting a growing discontent amongst the populace.

Prigozhin’s rebellion was rooted in the disruption of an internal balance that Putin had maintained for years, a balance that began to crumble following the faltering invasion of Ukraine. Many Russians are reluctant to acknowledge their country’s weaknesses, instead attributing defeats in Ukraine to indecision and dishonesty among the leadership. The failures on the battlefield have incited calls for greater militarization of the economy and a purging of the elite. Prigozhin’s vision for Russia extended even further, envisioning a massive North Korea-like state where the populace and economy would be in a state of full mobilization until victory is achieved.

Prior to the invasion, Prigozhin was primarily a contractor serving the state’s interests. Through Wagner and his extensive network of resources, the former convict was assisting Putin by undertaking tasks that the state was hesitant to claim publicly, such as intimidating domestic adversaries, meddling in foreign elections, and engaging in conflicts across Africa. Consequently, a powerful non-state entity with significant state-like capabilities emerged, altering the dynamics of Russian power.

With the full-scale invasion of Ukraine and Wagner’s crucial role in the conflict, Prigozhin’s position evolved dramatically. He began to conduct public campaigns characterized by provocative statements regarding domestic and foreign policy. His calls to hold the state accountable and to mobilize private enterprise garnered him substantial support in a remarkably short period.

Prigozhin crossed a critical line following June 10, when Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu issued an order to subordinate “volunteer” fighting groups to his ministry. This move threatened Prigozhin’s primary asset, as it meant losing control of his military resources to Russia’s official armed forces. However, he cleverly avoided directly challenging Putin, which is a wise strategy considering that over two decades of Putin’s rule have intertwined his image with that of the Russian state, making any challenge to him appear as an attack on the nation itself.

Prigozhin’s apparent goal was not to overthrow Putin but to reposition himself within the power structure. By eliminating Shoigu, he would have been able to assert his significance not just as a mercenary leader but as a politically influential figure. His attack on Shoigu, who had gained prominence due to military successes in Crimea and Syria, was an attempt to usurp that position for himself.

Putin has managed to avert the worst-case scenario: civil unrest reminiscent of civil war, which could involve clashes between “patriots,” bloodshed, and military bombardments of urban areas. The state apparatus, especially in Russia’s regions, demonstrated at least a semblance of loyalty. However, this came at a significant cost to the system’s stability. Prigozhin’s actions have placed the pro-war faction, which once held him in high regard, in a precarious position. Allegations of betrayal, usually directed at opponents of the war, can now just as easily be levelled at its supporters. The once-clear distinction between “good” and “bad” Russians, or “patriots” and “traitors,” has become muddled.

The so-called “patriotic majority” in Russia has long suspected the country’s wealthy leaders and business elites of being indifferent to national interests and the struggles of ordinary citizens. This was precisely Prigozhin’s claim, and it is likely to resonate for some time, even in light of his apparent marginalization.

Putin now faces a critical decision: he can either continue to play the precarious role of protector of the “corrupted elite” or, under pressure from recent events, initiate a cleansing of that elite. In this context, Prigozhin’s rebellion could signal not just the end of the current structure of Putin’s regime but potentially the entire legacy of post-Soviet Russia itself.