About the author(s):
Robin van der Lugt is a Blue Book Trainee at the European External Action Service’s Counter-Terrorism Division. He previously worked as a Research Associate at the Geneva Academy of International Humanitarian Law and Human Rights. He holds an LL.M. in International Law from the University of Antwerp and a Master of Advanced Studies in Transitional Justice, Human Rights and the Rule of Law. All views expressed are his own.
This post forms part of the Wagner Symposium hosted by the Armed Groups and International Law blog. The introductory post can be found here. The symposium seeks to foster deeper discussion on how best to address the Wagner Group and its affiliated entities.
On June 27, 2023, three days after the abrupt end of Yevgeny Prigozhin’s Wagner Group rebellion, Russian President Vladimir Putin made a striking admission. He publicly acknowledged:
“The support for the entire Wagner Group was fully provided by the state, from the Ministry of Defence (MoD), from the state budget. We fully funded this group. From May 2022 to May 2023 alone, the state paid Wagner 86,262,000,000 rubles ($1 billion) for maintenance and incentive payments.”
For years, Russia denied formal ties to the Wagner Group, portraying Prigozhin as an independent actor. This allowed Moscow to use Wagner as a proxy force—advancing its geopolitical goals in Ukraine, Syria, the Central African Republic (CAR), and Mali—while avoiding accountability for alleged crimes and human rights abuses. This strategic ambiguity made it harder to determine Russia’s precise role in these conflicts, affecting their legal classification and the application of international humanitarian law (IHL), and it also allowed Moscow to avoid full diplomatic fallout and temper potential domestic backlash over state involvement.
Putin’s recent admission—that the state funded and supported Wagner—marks a major shift. It not only shatters years of plausible deniability but also raises critical legal questions about whether Wagner’s actions can now be attributed directly to the Russian state under the International Law Commission’s Draft Articles on State Responsibility (ARSIWA). However, the implications extend beyond legal accountability. So what does that tell us? As this article explores, Putin’s admission does not just alter the legal calculus, but also invites a strategic reading of plausible deniability as a core instrument of Russian foreign policy doctrine.
Article 8 ARSIWA: Effective or overall control
Putin’s admission first raises the question of whether Wagner operated under effective control as defined by Article 8 ARSIWA. The International Court of Justice (ICJ) has interpreted this standard narrowly, requiring a state to exert direct command, direction, or control over specific unlawful actions carried out by a non-state actor. Simply providing financial, logistical, or operational support does not meet this threshold; rather, the state must issue specific orders or enforce compliance with its directives. Given the opaque nature of Wagner’s chain of command—and Russia’s longstanding denial of formal oversight—proving effective control would be difficult. A case-by-case assessment would be necessary, showing that Russian authorities directly orchestrated particular military operations. On its own, Putin’s acknowledgment of state funding does not satisfy this stringent requirement.
A different conclusion might emerge under the overall control test, which was developed by the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia (ICTY) in Prosecutor v. Tadi?. Unlike effective control, this test does not require direct oversight of each operation but instead considers whether a state plays a decisive role in organizing, coordinating, or significantly supporting an armed group. If this broader test were applied, Wagner’s connection to the Russian state would be harder to dismiss, given the Kremlin’s substantial involvement in its financing, supply chains, and strategic direction. Putin’s admission further strengthens this argument, confirming that the Russian government played a central role in sustaining Wagner’s operations.
Recent legal precedents suggest a growing willingness to apply the overall control test. A Dutch court ruled in 2022 that Russia exercised overall control over separatist forces in Ukraine during the downing of Malaysia Airlines Flight MH17, citing extensive operational support, close ties to intelligence agencies, and evidence that Russia provided guidance on military actions. While the ICJ remains the final authority on state responsibility under ARSIWA, this ruling could influence future debates on attribution, potentially shifting the legal standard in cases involving state-backed armed groups. Until then, establishing Russia’s responsibility for Wagner’s actions under effective control remains a significant challenge, requiring further evidence to prove direct state command over specific violations of international law.
Article 4 ARSIWA: Wagner as a de facto state organ
Putin’s admission also raises the question of whether Wagner could be considered a de facto state organ under Article 4 ARSIWA, given the scale of Russian funding and support. The ICJ’s ruling in the Bosnian Genocide case established that an entity can be classified as a state organ if it operates in “complete dependence” on the state, effectively functioning as its instrument. Putin’s statement that the Kremlin “fully funds” Wagner suggests an extraordinary level of dependence, making the argument for its classification as a de facto state organ more compelling. However, Wagner is not solely reliant on Russia for funding. The group also receives financial support from other states, particularly for its operations in Mali and CAR. This external funding complicates the argument that Wagner operates in “complete dependence” on Russia. While Putin’s statement strengthens the case for Wagner’s close ties to the Russian state, its engagement with other foreign governments suggests that it may not fully meet the criteria for classification as a de facto state organ.
Article 5 ARSIWA: Wagner’s authorization to perform governmental functions
Wagner’s operations in Africa—particularly in Mali and the Central African Republic (CAR)—raise another key attribution question under Article 5 of ARSIWA. These deployments are coordinated through opaque memoranda of understanding (MOUs) between ministries of defense, with no formal mention of Wagner itself. This leads to a crucial question: was Wagner authorized to perform governmental functions on behalf of these states? While Wagner primarily advances Russia’s strategic interests, its deployments in countries like Mali and the Central African Republic (CAR) are arranged through opaque memoranda of understanding between ministries of defense—without any formal mention of Wagner itself. This deliberate ambiguity complicates the issue of state responsibility. The key legal question is whether Wagner fighters were acting on behalf of the Russian state or performing governmental functions under the direction of a foreign state at the time of their alleged violations of international law. If they were executing public functions under Russia’s instruction or control, their conduct could be attributable to Russia under Article 5 of ARSIWA. However, if host states like Mali or CAR were effectively directing these operations, attribution might instead rest with those governments—though the lack of transparent agreements leaves this attribution murky by design. This issue will be explored in greater depth in another contribution to this series, (which critically examines how Article 5 attribution applies in the context of hybrid arrangements like these).
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Yet, even with clear evidence of state financing, plausible deniability may not be entirely dismantled in the legal sense. However, plausible deniability is not just a legal issue—it is also a strategic tool. Beyond state responsibility and accountability, Putin’s admission forces a reassessment of how Russia proxy military companies within its broader hybrid warfare doctrine, raising distinct possibilities.
Shifting from a purely legal lens to one grounded in international relations offers deeper insight into how and why Russia employs plausible deniability—not merely as a shield against legal accountability, but as a deliberate tool of foreign policy and security strategy. Three distinct possibilities emerge: (1) Russia has abandoned plausible deniability—or the use of PMCs altogether—in its hybrid warfare strategy, whether by choice or necessity; (2) plausible deniability was never as central to Russia’s PMC strategy as previously assumed; or (3) it functions less as outright deception and more as a form of strategic ambiguity, operating differently than traditionally understood.
Explanation 1: Russia has abandoned plausible deniability, or proxy military companies altogether, in its hybrid warfare strategy—By choice or necessity
Russia may have either intentionally or unavoidably abandoned plausible deniability in its relationship with proxy military companies such as Wagner. This potential shift suggests a recalibration of how Moscow approaches hybrid warfare and state-proxy dynamics. The Wagner Group rebellion, led by Yevgeny Prigozhin, exposed vulnerabilities in the Kremlin’s ability to control its proxies, forcing a reassessment of their role in Russia’s strategy.
One possibility is that Russia no longer wishes to engage with proxies such as Wagner—at least not without full state control. This stems from fears of losing control over proxies once more, as was evident in the Wagner-led mutiny. Reports suggest that the Kremlin has sought to incorporate former Wagner personnel into the formal Russian armed forces in an effort to centralize control and eliminate the risks associated with outsourcing power to (semi-)autonomous entities like Wagner. However, the claim that Russia is moving away from proxies entirely is not fully supported by evidence. In some theaters, such as Syria and Libya, the transition away from Wagner following the mutiny has been relatively smooth. Yet in regions like CAR and Mali, Wagner remains irreplaceable. The group continues to operate there with a high degree of autonomy, now rebranded as Africa Corps in Mali, serving Moscow’s dual objectives: projecting geopolitical influence and sustaining financial flows. These cases illustrate that Russia’s reliance on paramilitary proxies—especially Wagner—persists in regions where local entrenchment and irregular capabilities offer strategic advantages that formal Russian forces struggle to replicate.
Another related possibility is that Putin’s admission of state funding for Wagner—and the resulting collapse of plausible deniability—was not a deliberate choice but a calculated trade-off following the mutiny. The rebellion dealt a significant blow to Putin’s image of omnipotence, exposing cracks in his control over key elements of Russian power. By publicly tying Wagner to the state and framing Prigozhin as corrupt and deceitful, the Kremlin aimed to tarnish his reputation—both among Wagner personnel and within Russian society—while simultaneously persuading former members to sign MOUs with the MoD and reasserting state authority. In his trade-off, plausible deniability was sacrificed as part of a broader effort to restore public confidence in Putin’s leadership and tighten control over a rogue proxy.
Paradoxically, the mutiny also restored a limited form of plausible deniability for Moscow. By framing Wagner as an uncontrollable and rogue actor, the Kremlin can still maintain some distance from the group’s actions, particularly those that draw international condemnation. While Putin’s acknowledgment of state funding weakens plausible deniability, the perception of Wagner as semi-autonomous provides a thin veneer of separation that Russia can leverage when convenient.
Explanation 2: Plausible deniability was never fundamental to Russia’s proxy strategy
It is worth questioning whether plausible deniability is truly central to Russia’s use of proxy military companies. Perhaps it has always been a secondary benefit rather than a primary objective. Other factors—such as stealth mobilization, operational flexibility, and geopolitical ambitions—better explain Russia’s reliance on groups like Wagner. From this perspective, Putin’s admission does not diminish Wagner’s utility, as its value extends far beyond the illusion of independence.
A key limitation of plausible deniability as an explanatory framework is its irrelevance in certain conflicts. In Ukraine, for instance, Russia’s military involvement is overt, with its troops openly engaged. Wagner’s role is not to obscure Russian presence but to serve strategic functions like stealth mobilization. By deploying Wagner fighters—many of whom are pardoned convicts or foreign recruits—the Kremlin reduces the visible human costs of war.
Beyond mobilization, Wagner offers critical operational advantages. Unlike Russia’s rigid military structure, which suffers from hierarchical inefficiencies, Wagner operates with greater agility and adaptability. This flexibility allows it to respond swiftly to volatile battlefields and engage in asymmetric warfare where conventional forces struggle. Wagner contractors often possess specialized skills that enhance Russia’s military capabilities, making them valuable in irregular conflicts.
This adaptability also enables Russia to expand its geopolitical reach while mitigating risks. The Soviet Union’s costly intervention in Afghanistan serves as a cautionary tale: direct entanglement in prolonged conflicts can drain resources and erode public support. Proxy military companies allow Moscow to project power in the Middle East, Africa, and Latin America without committing regular forces. In Syria, the Central African Republic (CAR), and Mali, Wagner has helped Russia secure resources, support allied regimes, and counter Western influence —all while maintaining strategic flexibility.
Thus, plausible deniability may have always been a convenient byproduct rather than the core rationale for Russia’s use of Wagner. Its true value lies in extending Moscow’s influence, circumventing military constraints, and minimizing domestic costs—not in masking state involvement.
Explanation 3: Strategic ambiguity rather than plausible deniability
What if deniability was never just a strategy or a convenient byproduct? What if the ambiguity surrounding Wagner and its Kremlin ties was itself the goal? Traditional thinking assumes plausible deniability relies on secrecy or credible ambiguity, but this overlooks a key point—it can still function even when it appears openly implausible. Rather than depending on deception, it operates through strategic ambiguity—deliberate vagueness that sows uncertainty, delays retaliation, and complicates adversaries’ decision-making. The key is not whether a denial is convincing, but whether it disrupts an opponent’s ability to act decisively.
Plausible deniability is not about maintaining secrecy indefinitely but about shaping perceptions long enough to achieve strategic objectives. Even when the truth is evident, ambiguity buys time, forcing adversaries—who require clear attribution before responding—into paralysis. Putin’s admission of Wagner’s state funding removed the illusion of independence, yet ongoing uncertainty over its operational autonomy still benefits Russia. By keeping key details vague, Moscow sustains a gray zone between state and non-state activity, preventing institutions like NATO and the UN from mounting an effective response before realities on the ground have already shifted.
More than concealment, implausible deniability actively shapes narratives of power and unpredictability. By denying Wagner’s actions while subtly signaling control, the Kremlin reinforces its image of strategic cunning, exploiting Western fears of hybrid warfare. Even if these perceptions exaggerate Russia’s capabilities, they create hesitation and division among opponents.
Plausible deniability is not a binary concept—either believable or not—but a fluid tool that adapts to different phases of an operation. Once exposed, covert actions don’t necessarily lose impact; they generate confusion, weaken institutional responses, and foster competing narratives. Implausible deniability is not a flaw but a deliberate mechanism to manipulate perceptions and delay retaliation.
Conclusion
Putin’s admission that the Russian state funded Wagner disrupts longstanding assumptions about plausible deniability, but it does not render the concept obsolete. In the Russian context, plausible deniability functions less as a mechanism of absolute secrecy and more as a form of strategic ambiguity—carefully calibrated to obscure lines of responsibility, delay international responses, and frustrate legal accountability. Wagner’s decentralized, transnational structure reinforces this ambiguity, enabling the Kremlin to maintain distance while retaining operational influence.
Legal and security challenges in holding Wagner accountable persist. Structural gaps in international law continue to limit avenues for justice and redress, particularly for victims of alleged human rights violations. While recent initiatives—such as proposed independent commission of inquiry for Wagner Group and affiliated entities by the Parliamentary Assembly of Council of Europe’s (PACE) Resolution 2556—signal growing international engagement, this is yet to be created. But this is much needed, because enforcement mechanisms remain weak and fragmented.
Rather than marking the end of plausible deniability, Putin’s statement may instead reflect its evolution. Ambiguity remains central—not by concealing state involvement entirely, but by muddying the waters just enough to complicate attribution and deflect consequences. In this revised form, plausible deniability continues to serve as a tool of Russian statecraft, shielding the Kremlin while enabling it to pursue its strategic objectives with limited accountability.