Mutiny fizzled, but it put Putin on the back foot

The coup, if that’s what it was, has failed. But one legacy, in particular, could complicate Russian President Vladimir Putin’s determined efforts to put it in the past.

It is the sound of silence – from both Mr. Putin himself and his allies, most importantly China – as the mutineers approached Moscow.

The inescapable impression was of a president unsettled, uncertain, and simply unable to quash the most serious challenge in his 23 years in power – and of previously full-throated supporters hedging their bets until the outcome was clear.

It also brought home how the war against Ukraine – intended to buttress Mr. Putin’s and Russia’s standing – has, at least so far, had the opposite effect.

None of this necessarily means his hold on power is in danger. Nor will this impinge on his top short-term priority – to reestablish stability and his personal control, after the show of defiance by his longtime protégé, Yevgeny Prigozhin, the leader of the Wagner militia group.

Mr. Putin was keen this week to project a message of normality, declaring that “civil war” had been averted and shunting off Mr. Prigozhin and a rump of his fighting force to the neighboring client autocracy of Belarus.

Yet the echoes of the sound of silence as the militia advanced, largely unimpeded, to within 120 miles of Moscow last Saturday could continue to reverberate.

That’s especially true because of what Mr. Putin did say, before he retreated into silence, in a brief address at the beginning of the rebel advance. It wasn’t just the sense of alarm he conveyed, or his warning of a “deadly threat” to the nation – jarringly different from his image, cultivated over two decades, of a leader in supremely confident control.

It was also the frank admission that in Rostov-on-Don, where Mr. Prigozhin’s militia had captured the Russian army’s southern command headquarters without a shot, the situation was “difficult,” and that “the work of the civil and military authorities is blocked.”

Reestablishing a semblance of post-putsch normality with allies and partners abroad may prove easier, since those relationships are rooted in shared practical interests. And once the rebellion failed, a range of foreign governments did issue statements of support for Russia.

Yet the silence from them as the crisis was underway suggests they may harbor new doubts about Russia’s future course, and about Mr. Putin’s ability to navigate the twin challenges of the Ukraine war and unrest within the Russian military.

China matters most: Mr. Putin and Chinese leader Xi Jinping sealed a “no-limits” partnership days before Russia invaded Ukraine last year. Economically the far weaker partner, Russia has become especially reliant on China since the invasion ruptured trade ties with the West.

Beijing also has a powerful, geopolitical interest in the alliance. It sees Mr. Putin’s Russia as a key partner in its central foreign policy priority: challenging America’s dominant place on the world stage.

Still, China said nothing about Mr. Prigozhin’s putsch until it was over.

Beijing broke its silence during a visit by Russia’s deputy foreign minister the following day. Even then, the statement was a response to Moscow’s readout of the talks, which said China had backed the “Russian leadership” in its response to the crisis.

China’s version did reaffirm the alliance. But it pointedly omitted mention of Mr. Putin’s leadership, saying only that Beijing supported Russia in “maintaining national stability and achieving development and prosperity.”

Moscow’s efforts to secure backing from other foreign friends fell flat.

Mr. Putin contacted a number of leaders while the outcome hung in the balance, including Turkey’s President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, a NATO member with whom he has built strong personal ties. Moscow’s account was that Mr. Erdoğan offered “full support for the steps taken by the Russian leadership.” Turkey’s version was that Mr. Erdoğan simply urged Mr. Putin to act with “common sense” and that the Turkish president was ready to help achieve a “peaceful resolution as soon as possible.”

Even a call to Kazakhstan’s President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev, who used Russian troops last year to quell public unrest, ended with the Kazakh leader telling Mr. Putin that the putsch was a purely internal Russian affair.

The sound of silence was not limited to Mr. Putin’s friends.

The United States, in coordination with its own key allies in Europe and Asia, agreed on its need to keep mum as well.

This was partly for the same reason that China and other countries were loath to weigh in: They could not know how this unprecedented challenge to Mr. Putin would end.

But for Washington, there were other considerations as well – especially relevant as the world waits to see how Mr. Putin will move in the weeks ahead to demonstrate that he is undaunted and back in command.

Washington and its NATO partners did not want to provide Mr. Putin with political ammunition for accusations that the putsch was instigated by the West. And more generally, they did not want to risk making a confused and volatile situation in Russia even worse.

Their ultimate fear? A collapse of central control, even if it is Mr. Putin’s control, over a sprawling Eurasian power armed with nearly 6,000 nuclear weapons.