Thursday 6 July 2023

The Wagner Mutiny Could Strengthen Iran in Syria

 

 'As Yevgeny Prigozhin’s mutiny in Rostov-on-Don, Russia, began on June 23, Russian military police in Syria apprehended at least four of the Wagner Group’s top leaders and flew them to the Hmeimim air base on the country’s west coast as a precautionary measure. Multiple sources told Foreign Policy via messages over an encrypted messaging app that all were still being kept at a closed facility at Hmeimim; however, no public indication of their whereabouts has yet been made.

 Home to several thousand Russian soldiers and contractors, Hmeimim is Russia’s command and control center in Syria and the logistics headquarters for all Wagner operations abroad.

 With its two large landing strips, it is the largest Russian facility outside the former Soviet Union capable of servicing and refueling heavy aircraft transporting large quantities of weapons and personnel. Wagner flights to Libya, Mali, Sudan, the Central African Republic, and even Venezuela depart from Hmeimim via Russian defense ministry aircraft before arriving at their final destinations. Should the Kremlin deny Wagner access to this facility, Prigozhin’s global empire would grind to a halt.



 As in Russia itself—where the police and Federal Security Service have raided the group’s headquarters and shut down its subsidiaries—Wagner’s leaders in Hmeimim have reportedly been given an ultimatum to sign new contracts with the defense ministry or return home. However, following years of attrition within the ranks of Russia’s proxies in Syria, Wagner forces form one of the core components of what’s left protecting Moscow’s interests in the country, granting Prigozhin significant leverage that will likely delay an abrupt dismantling of his influence.

 Currently, Wagner has between 1,000 and 2,000 troops deployed in Syria, who sit at the center of a much larger network of more than 10,000 local private military contractors who help guard oil, gas, and phosphate infrastructure in the country’s desert.

 Wagner pays Syrian private military contractors in part from the revenues generated from these facilities, most of which are owned or operated by companies linked to Gennady Timchenko—one of Russian President Vladimir Putin’s closest confidants who experts claim has overseen the latter’s personal wealth—and Wagner shell companies.

 As Russia is one of the world’s largest energy and commodities exporters, revenues earned from Syria’s natural resources are negligible to the Russian state. However, for Syria’s régime, they are a desperately needed source of foreign currency, and Moscow’s control over them grants Russia leverage that it can use to ensure that Damascus does not renege on its geostrategic commitments to the Kremlin in any postwar scenario.

 These commitments include preserving Russia’s right to use Hmeimim as a launching pad to project power in Africa and, more importantly, to dock nuclear-capable vessels in Syria’s Tartus port. The latter has been one of Moscow’s greatest geostrategic achievements since the 1970s and enables Russia to project nuclear deterrence along NATO’s southern flank.

 Regardless as to what individual Wagner leaders decide, ensuring that Russia retains leverage over Damascus means securing the loyalty of the thousands of Syrian private military contractors whom Prigozhin commands. Any pause or reduction in incentives for these forces caused by confusion in Moscow will be seized on by Russia’s main rival, Iran, which could offer these fighters weapons and better pay.



 Despite partnering to support Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, Russia and Iran have been viciously at odds in Syria since 2017. In 2018, their proxies had violent clashes over control of Syria’s phosphate reserves and have continued to battle over other strategic assets.

 This struggle to protect its position has worn on Moscow, particularly as its hopes for a political solution to the conflict have fallen flat; Russian companies would likely earn a massive windfall if sanctions on Syria were lifted and Putin has exerted pressure on Assad for years to ensure this. But such a resolution and an injection of Western development aid have failed to materialize.

 By 2021, Russia began to cut support to many of its proxies in parts of the country it no longer viewed as strategic, many of which switched their loyalty to Iran to replace lost salaries. This process accelerated following Moscow’s February 2022 invasion of Ukraine.

 The rapid normalization seen in recent months between the Assad régime and Arab League states is itself a last-resort strategy by Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Jordan to contain Iran after accepting that Russia may no longer possess the means to do so.

 Currently, Wagner mercenaries and their network of contractors at oil and gas sites across Syria are one of several core components of what’s left of Russia’s bare-bones occupation. Supported in part by an independent and sustainable revenue stream, they have so far proved largely resistant to Iran’s overtures.



 However, should another pillar in Putin’s régime fall, that could change, with Wagner’s Syrian mercenaries following the same path as many other former Russian proxies. Examples abound.

 In April 2021, Russia ignored requests for support from a tribal-backed militia fighting U.S.-backed Kurdish forces in northeastern Syria. After being defeated and expelled from their homes, tribal fighters opened their doors to Iran, which flew in large quantities of heavy weapons and equipment and replaced the group’s lost salaries.

 The Syrian Army’s 8th Brigade was once Russia’s most loyal unit within the armed forces in southern Syria. However, by late 2021, Moscow became frustrated with its failure to send sufficient troops to fight the Islamic State and halved the group’s salaries. By 2022, it ceased contact altogether, and now the 8th Brigade fights for Syria’s Military Intelligence Directorate, one of Iran’s most powerful proxies and which is heavily implicated in regional drug trafficking alongside Hezbollah and other groups.

 Similarly, in July 2022, National Defense Forces militias in eastern Deir Ezzor led by Hassan al-Ghadban broke with Moscow after the latter failed to pay their salaries for six months. The group shortly after merged with the 4th Division, one of Syria’s top elite Iranian-backed units led by Maher al-Assad—brother of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad—which sits at the top of Syria’s drug trade.

 Should Russia lose the loyalty of Syrian mercenaries guarding the country’s energy infrastructure, Moscow would no longer be able to guarantee that it could continue coercing Assad to allow the Kremlin to use Syrian territory to threaten NATO and expand throughout Africa.



 Following the defeat of the Islamic State in 2018, Russia undertook an aggressive campaign to overhaul and reform Syria’s decrepit military, which Moscow hoped to partner with as its main client in a postwar scenario. Syrian generals who spoke Russian were promoted and purged hundreds of senior officers, seized weapons and military IDs from Iranian-backed militias, and arrested their financiers.

 The program provoked a wave of violence against Russian forces and their proxies by Iranian-backed groups that refused to disarm and instead accelerated their infiltration of Syria’s institutions.

 By 2020, Russia had given up. Limited by the economic contraction caused by the COVID-19 pandemic and its failure to achieve any semblance of order, Russia’s defense ministry scaled back its efforts and turned to its own network of private military contractors to build an irregular force to manage its now narrowly defined interests.



 This shift was hastened by Russia’s belligerent stance toward Turkey, whose proxies Moscow fought two separate conflicts with in 2020, creating an urgent need for new recruits. Between December 2019 and August 2020, Wagner recruited thousands of Syrian mercenaries through more than a dozen private security firms to fight in Libya against the Turkish-backed government alongside renegade warlord Khalifa Haftar.

 During the fighting, Wagner seized control of two large oil fields and export facilities and a petrochemical complex—key leverage that the group has used to selectively manipulate energy markets by imposing blockades. During the same period, Wagner-backed militias took part in a shorter conflict against Turkish-backed rebels in Syria’s Idlib province that resulted in large territorial gains for the Assad régime.

 Following these campaigns, Russia was soon forced to mobilize again, this time against the Islamic State in central Syria. In the eight months from August 2020 to March 2021, the group exploded out of remote parts of the desert and killed more than 460 soldiers and civilians and injured hundreds more. The majority of attacks were concentrated around the country’s gas-processing plants and oil fields, an attempt by the Islamic State to extort payment from the companies that managed their production.

 The Islamic State’s attacks posed a direct threat to Russia’s core interest, and Moscow exhausted all options in response. The private military contractors used to recruit Syrians to fight in Libya were revived across the country, with recruits trained in Suqaylabiyah, a large Orthodox Christian town on the outskirts of the desert where Russia has recruited its most loyal mercenaries. Russia’s defense ministry issued an ultimatum to loyal units within the Syrian Army: Send fighters, or stop receiving salaries.

 Lastly, for the first time since 2017, Russian units fighting in the desert partnered with Iranian proxies including Afghan Shiite militias. For the first three months of 2021, this combined force supported by Russian air power bombarded the Islamic State, driving many of its fighters to Iraq or Kurdish-controlled parts of northeastern Syria.

 Now, preserving this network of mercenaries built up throughout 2020 is key to ensuring the smooth running of Syria’s energy and phosphate reserves, which has since become Russia’s main priority. Iran has meanwhile seized the opportunity to chip away at Moscow’s faltering facade and pick off former proxies that the Kremlin can no longer afford to patronize.



 Wagner forces and the Syrians they contract are mercenaries and by definition fight for material gain. Some, such as Orthodox Christians in Suqaylabiyah and neighboring towns, either feel some affinity with Russia or view it as a bulwark against encroaching Iranian Shiite sectarianism. However, should Moscow pull the rug entirely from under Prigozhin, all of Wagner’s proxies will be forced to make practical decisions.

 Of the four Wagner leaders in Syria detained late last month, two were based in Hmeimim, one in Damascus, one in the oil-rich province of Deir Ezzor, and the last in Suqaylabiyah. Should their detention drag out, the Christians of Suqaylabiyah and other groups may find themselves on the receiving end of enticing Iranian offers.

 Iran may also soon be in a better position to make such offers. Following months of quiet negotiations, in late June the United States resumed indirect talks with Tehran to explore relaunching the nuclear deal or replacing it with an interim agreement. As a measure of good faith, the United States recently agreed to unfreeze and release $2.7 billion of debt from Iraq to Iranian banks. Tehran has similarly requested that $7 billion in South Korean debt frozen by sanctions be released, offering to free detained U.S. citizens in exchange.

 However, Russia’s current weak position may delay any brash steps to rein in Prigozhin’s position in Syria. Russia’s occupation is not driven by profit-seeking, and allowing Prigozhin to continue reaping a modest fortune is a small price to pay to ensure Moscow’s presence on the Mediterranean is kept intact. Should it do the opposite, the Kremlin risks creating a gap that Iran’s proxies would soon step in to exploit.'

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