Failed Wagner Revolt Leaves a Question in Africa: Will the Ruthless Mercenaries Remain?

Supporters of Capt. Ibrahim Traore parade wave a Russian flag in the streets of Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, Oct. 2, 2022. (AP)
Supporters of Capt. Ibrahim Traore parade wave a Russian flag in the streets of Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, Oct. 2, 2022. (AP)
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Failed Wagner Revolt Leaves a Question in Africa: Will the Ruthless Mercenaries Remain?

Supporters of Capt. Ibrahim Traore parade wave a Russian flag in the streets of Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, Oct. 2, 2022. (AP)
Supporters of Capt. Ibrahim Traore parade wave a Russian flag in the streets of Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, Oct. 2, 2022. (AP)

The Russian mercenary group that briefly threatened President Vladimir Putin’s authority has for years been a ruthless force-for-hire across Africa, protecting rulers at the expense of the masses. That dynamic is not expected to change now that the group’s founder, Yevgeny Prigozhin, has been exiled to Belarus as punishment for the failed rebellion.

The Wagner Group brutalizes civilians in the Central African Republic, Mali and elsewhere to crush dissent and fend off threats to their leaders’ power. In exchange, Russia gains access to natural resources and ports through which weapons can be shipped, and receives payments that enrich the Kremlin and help it fund operations elsewhere, including the war in Ukraine.

Neither Russia nor the African leaders dependent on Wagner's fighters have any interest in ending those relationships. But many questions linger in the aftermath of Wagner's stunning revolt, such as who will lead its thousands of fighters stationed across many African nations and whether Moscow will absorb these fighters into the Russian army.

“The situation is extremely volatile," said Nathalia Dukhan, senior investigator at The Sentry, a US-based policy organization that published an investigative report Tuesday accusing Wagner of carrying out various human-rights abuses in African countries.

"But what we have learnt from investigating and analyzing Wagner in Africa in the past five years is that the group is resilient, creative, fearless and predatory, so it is less likely that the Wagner empire will instantly fall like a house of cards.”

Beyond the financial rewards, Putin has also sought to use Wagner fighters to help expand Russia's presence in the Middle East and Africa. He seeks out security alliances with autocrats, coup leaders, and others who have been spurned or neglected by the US and Europe, either because of their bloody abuses or because of competing Western strategic interests.

Asked whether Wagner's weekend mutiny could erode Russia’s positions in Africa, Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov told a state-run TV network that security assistance to African countries would continue. He specifically mentioned the Central African Republic and Mali, and noted that Russian government officials have maintained contact with leaders there.

Lavrov told RT he has not seen “any sign of panic or any sign of change” in African nations over the revolt against Moscow. But amid the uncertainty, there is at the very least some confusion about what exactly comes next.

In Mali, where at least 1,000 Wagner fighters replaced French troops brought in to fight extremists, the US alleges that the Kremlin uses the country as a way-station for arms shipments to Russian forces in Ukraine. But the Malian government has denied using Wagner for any purpose other than training.

An officer in the Malian Air Force who spoke on condition of anonymity because he was unauthorized to comment publicly said Russian fighters play an important combat role.

“At the moment we don’t have enough pilots, and most of our military aircraft and combat helicopters are flown by Wagner’s men. If Russia asks the Malian government to stop cooperating with Wagner, we’ll be obliged to do so, because we have a greater interest in the Russian government than in Wagner,” the officer said.

As part of a deal to end the rebellion, Putin has presented Wagner fighters with three options: either join the Russian military, go to Belarus like Prigozhin, or return home. It was not clear if those options also applied to Wagner fighters in Africa.

In the Central African Republic, a statue in the capital, Bangui, pays tribute to Russian mercenaries who have helped keep President Faustin-Archange Touadera in power. Lavrov told RT that hundreds of Russian fighters would remain there.

Regardless of who ultimately oversees the Wagner fighters in the Central African Republic, the source of their authority remains clear, said Jordy Christopher, a special adviser to Touadera. “Prigozhin is nothing more than a pawn in the handling of the art of war, moreover he is only the tip of the iceberg,” he said.

Wagner operates in roughly 30 countries, according to the Center for Strategic and International Studies, and it faces numerous human rights violations, including extrajudicial killings. Its fighters are most influential in African countries where armed conflicts have forced leaders to turn to Moscow for help, such as Libya and Sudan.

“The African leadership of these countries need them,” said Federica Saini Fasanotti, a senior Fellow at Brookings Institution’s Center for Security, Strategy, and Technology.

Still, some experts said the revolt against the Kremlin will force African countries reliant on Wagner to pay closer attention to how they engage with Russia, where Putin faces the gravest threat to his authority since coming to power more than two decades ago.

“Developments in Russia will likely render many African countries more cautious in their engagement with Russia moving forward,” said Ryan Cummings, director of Africa-focused security consulting company Signal Risk.

Any unexpected turn of events domestically in Russia poses potential threats to African leaders who have become dependent on its foreign fighters to stay in power, such as those in Mali and the Central African Republic.

"Any withdrawal could readily be exploited by non-state groups challenging the authority of the government in these countries,” said Cummings.



In Assad's Hometown, Few Shared in His Family's Fortune. They Hope they Won't Share in His Downfall

A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
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In Assad's Hometown, Few Shared in His Family's Fortune. They Hope they Won't Share in His Downfall

A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)

On the walls of the palatial mausoleum built to house the remains of former Syrian President Hafez Assad, vandals have sprayed variations of the phrase, “Damn your soul, Hafez.”
Nearly two weeks after the ouster of his son, Bashar Assad, people streamed in to take photos next to the burned-out hollow where the elder Assad’s grave used to be. It was torched by opposition fighters after a lightning offensive overthrew Assad's government, bringing more than a half-century rule by the Assad dynasty to an end, The Associated Press said.
The mausoleum's sprawling grounds — and the surrounding area, where the ousted president and other relatives had villas — were until recently off limits to residents of Qardaha, the former presidential dynasty's hometown in the mountains overlooking the coastal city of Latakia.
Nearby, Bashar Assad’s house was emptied by looters, who left the water taps running to flood it. At a villa belonging to three of his cousins, a father and his two young sons were removing pipes to sell the scrap metal. A gutted piano was tipped over on the floor.
While the Assads lived in luxury, most Qardaha residents — many, like Assad, members of the Alawite minority sect — survived on manual labor, low-level civil service jobs and farming to eke out a living. Many sent their sons to serve in the army, not out of loyalty to the government but because they had no other option.
“The situation was not what the rest of the Syrian society thought,” said Deeb Dayoub, an Alawite sheikh. “Everyone thought Qardaha was a city built on a marble rock and a square of aquamarine in every house," he said, referring to the trappings of wealth enjoyed by Assad's family.
In the city’s main street, a modest strip of small grocery stores and clothing shops, Ali Youssef, stood next to a coffee cart, gesturing with disdain. “This street is the best market and the best street in Qardaha and it’s full of potholes.”
Families resorted to eating bread dipped in oil and salt because they could not afford meat or vegetables, he said. Youssef said he dodged mandatory military service for two years, but eventually was forced to go.
“Our salary was 300,000 Syrian pounds,” a month, he said — just over $20. “We used to send it to our families to pay the rent or live and eat with it" while working jobs on the side to cover their own expenses.
"Very few people benefited from the former deposed regime,” Youssef said.
So far, residents said, the security forces made up of fighters from Hayat Tahrir al-Sham — the main group in the coalition that unseated Assad, and which is now ruling the country — have been respectful toward them.
“The security situation is fine so far, it’s acceptable, no major issues,” said Mariam al-Ali, who was in the market with her daughter. “There were a few abuses ... but it was fixed.” She did not elaborate, but others said there had been scattered incidents of robberies and looting or threats and insults.
Al-Ali called Assad a “traitor,” but she remained circumspect about her Alawite community's position in the new Syria.
“The most important thing is that there should be no sectarianism, so there will be no more blood spilled,” she said.
Dayoub, the Alawite sheikh, described “a state of anticipation and caution among all citizens in this area, and in general among Alawites,” although he said fears have started to ease.
At the town’s municipal building, dozens of notables sat on bleachers discussing the country' s new reality and what they hoped to convey to the new leadership.
Much was centered around economic woes — retired public servants' salaries had not been paid, the price of fuel had risen, there was no public transportation in the area.
But others had larger concerns.
“We hope that in the next government or the new Syria, we will have rights and duties like any Syrian citizen — we are not asking for any more or less,” said Jaafar Ahmed, a doctoral student and community activist. “We don’t accept the curtailment of our rights because the regime was part of this component.”
Questions also loomed about the fate of the area's sons who had served in Assad's army.
Since the army's collapse in the face of the opposition advance, residents said several thousand young army recruits from Qardaha have gone missing. Some later turned up on lists of former soldiers being held at a detention center in Hama.
“These are young guys who are 22 or 23 and they never took part" in active combat, said Qais Ibrahim, whose nephews were among the missing. Over the past few years, active combat was largely frozen in the country's civil war. “We send our children to the army because we don’t have any other source of income.”
Um Jaafar, who gave only her nickname out of fear of reprisals, said the family had no information about the fate of her two sons, stationed with the army in Raqqa and Deir Ezzour, though one son's name later turned up on the list of those imprisoned in Hama.
“My children got the best grades in school, but I didn’t have the ability to send them to the university,” she said. “They went to the army just for a salary that was barely enough to cover their transportation costs.”
Syria's new authorities have set up “reconciliation centers” around the country where former soldiers can register, hand over their weapons and receive a “reconciliation ID” allowing them to move freely and safely in Syria for three months.
But Ahmed, the doctoral student, said he wants more. As the country attempts to unify and move on after nearly 14 years of civil war, he said, “We want either forgiveness for all or accountability for all.”
Ahmed acknowledged that during the war, “rural Latakia was responsible for some radical groups,” referring to pro-Assad militias accused of widespread abuses against civilians. But, he said, opposition groups also committed abuses.
“We hope that there will be either an open process of reconciliation ... or transitional justice in which all will be held accountable for their mistakes, from all parties," he said.
"We can’t talk about holding accountable one ... group but not another.”