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| A portrait of the late Yevgeny Prigozhin, head of the Wagner mercenary group, lays at an informal memorial in St. Petersburg, Russia |
On the evening of May 4, 1692, a pivotal moment occurred in the history of England. John Churchill, then the earl and later duke of Marlborough, was apprehended on charges of high treason and confined within the Tower of London. This event marked a significant step forward in the evolution of societal norms and governance.
The spring of 1692 witnessed the prevailing apprehension of an imminent naval clash and potential invasion that loomed over England. This anxiety was rooted in the events of 1688 when King James II, a Catholic monarch, was dethroned, and the Protestant leader William of Orange, alongside his wife Queen Mary, embarked on English soil to assert his claim to the English crown.
Notably, Marlborough had once been a staunch supporter of King James II but had switched allegiance during the transformative "Glorious Revolution," pledging fidelity to the Protestant succession. This allegiance shift had garnered him both friends and foes. In the charged climate of 1692, an incriminating forgery surfaced, implying Marlborough's involvement in a conspiracy against William. Consequently, he was incarcerated in the Tower of London.
This event signaled progress within the realm of governance. Comparatively, during the 17th century, the punishment for political adversaries often culminated in executions, as evidenced by the beheading of King Charles I in 1639 and Mary Queen of Scots in the previous century. Marlborough's imprisonment rather than execution was indicative of a step towards more civilized and humane treatment of political opponents.
As history unfolded into the 18th century, the practice of imprisoning individuals who had lost political power gradually came to be perceived as uncivilized. This sentiment was exemplified in 1761, when William Pitt, who had been compelled to resign as prime minister, was granted a peerage instead of enduring punitive measures.
Reflecting on this historical context, recent events have invoked parallels. Last week, the media was captivated by the sight of an aircraft plummeting from the sky northwest of Moscow. This aircraft carried Yevgeni Prigozhin, the leader of the Wagner mercenary group, and exploded mid-flight, resulting in the demise of Prigozhin and other prominent figures from the group, who had briefly revolted in June.
At the juncture of the mutiny, President Putin's reaction seemed restrained, suggesting he was caught off guard. The presumed assassination of Prigozhin underscores that Putin has internalized an age-old wisdom: vengeance is most satisfying when served cold.
Admittedly, Prigozhin's character was far from admirable. He was an individual implicated in heinous acts, having transformed from a restaurateur into a ruthless mercenary leader. The Wagner group, under his command, was linked to the brutal slaying of 500 innocent civilians in Mali in the preceding year and the torment of prisoners of war in Ukraine. The group even utilized the video documentation of the torture and killing of a Syrian Army defector, Hamadi Bouta, in 2017 as a means of propaganda and recruitment.
Despite their brutality, the Wagner leaders lacked foresight. Did none among them recall the historical "Night of the Long Knives," during which Hitler orchestrated the massacre of the SA's leadership in a single night? Did the Wagner leaders not find it peculiar that they were all slated to travel on the same plane?
As Prigozhin's followers grapple with the aftermath, it's unlikely their path will lead to peaceful gatherings. The implications of Prigozhin's and other Wagner leaders' demise for the group's activities in Africa and Syria remain uncertain. As long as there exists a patron willing to provide substantial compensation, a replacement for Prigozhin and his comrades will inevitably emerge to fill the void in leadership left by the crash.
The purported assassination transcends being merely a retaliatory act by Putin; it serves as a statement of intent. A well-connected Moscow businessman shared insight with The Washington Post, remarking, "The state perceives anyone displaying disloyalty as an adversary necessitating elimination." While the authenticity of this claim remains unverified, it has nonetheless sown fear within the populace.
Predictably, Putin denies any involvement in the killing, though the message remains clear. The separation of political power loss from acts of violence signifies a hallmark of civilization. This differentiation is pivotal in distinguishing enlightened governments from their uncivilized counterparts. This transformation occurs at varying times and across diverse nations. Notably, during William Pitt's rise to the earldom of Chatham, the violent upheavals of the French Revolution were still decades away. In contrast, Russia has often perpetuated state-sanctioned violence across both Tsarist and Soviet regimes.
For Americans who underestimate the dangers posed by the escalating political violence within their nation, history serves as a sobering reminder that civilizations are not impervious to regression. While societies achieve great strides and navigate immense atrocities, they remain susceptible to regressing into barbarism.
"The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice," Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. famously proclaimed. Yet, this arc's journey can indeed be quite protracted.
