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Cardinal John Henry Newman once famously quipped, “To be deep in history is to cease to be a Protestant.” Perhaps I am not yet deep enough, for I maintain my stubborn adherence to the theological principles of the Reformation. However, my study of history has confirmed another famous quip attributed to Mark Twain: “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.”
Exposure to the stories of the past can create a sense of déjà vu as we observe the deeds of our own historical moment, and it is not always a good thing. As Godwin’s Law teaches us, the longer an internet conversation continues, the more likely a participant is to compare something or someone to Hitler. As Vladimir Putin’s statements over the past few years have powerfully demonstrated, having a little knowledge of history is often more dangerous than having no knowledge of history.
The ideal would be to have a deep knowledge of history complemented by analytic skills that allow one to grasp nuance and context, along with a willingness to admit when one is wrong. Whether I have achieved this, you the reader must judge, but I did recently see a historical rhyme that I hope is a bit more useful than most Nazi comparisons.
Let us begin with the initial historical event and then examine its modern rhyme.
The Pilgrimage of Grace - 1536
The year 1536 was one of sweeping change in England. After having himself named Supreme Head of the Church of England and breaking off communion with Rome, all in the hope of marrying Anne Boleyn and producing male heirs, King Henry VIII of England turned against his wife and had her executed on charges of adultery. However, the end of Anne Boleyn was not the end of Henry’s religious tinkering. Thomas Cromwell, by then the king’s chief advisor, pressed on with plans to dissolve England’s monasteries.
All these religious changes angered the king’s more conservative subjects, many of whom lived in the north of England, but to criticize the king directly would have been treasonous. They therefore did what people in medieval and early modern England had always done in these situations: they blamed the king’s advisors, making the king out to be the victim of bad counsel.
An early rising in Lincolnshire was quickly put down in October. A few weeks later, the main protest began in Yorkshire under the leadership of a lawyer named Robert Aske. Nearly 10,000 men were quickly rallied to the cause and took over the important religious center of York, where they reestablished Catholic practices. The numbers then swelled to around 30,000-40,000 men who called themselves “pilgrims,” suggesting their peaceful intent and connection with medieval spirituality. The movement was eventually christened the Pilgrimage of Grace.
Although King Henry had sent the Duke of Norfolk and Earl of Shrewsbury to put down the rebellion, they were too outnumbered to do so. In an effort to prevent the pilgrims continuing on to London (as had happened in the 1381 Peasants’ Revolt), the duke offered a compromise: he would deliver a written statement of the protesters’ demands to the king, and Robert Aske was granted safe passage to join the king’s Christmas Court.
For the next few weeks, King Henry VIII put on a good show of reconciliation. While he did not agree to all of the rebels’ demands, he made some concessions. The pilgrimage was effectively neutralized. They would not be marching further. Robert Aske was free to live. A particular sticking point was the status of Thomas Cromwell, whom the pilgrims loathed for pushing Protestant doctrines in the Church of England. However, the king was unwilling to cave to the rebels and dismiss his most trusted counselor.
However, in February 1537, a new period of unrest broke out in the Lincolnshire, and King Henry used this as an excuse to round up anyone who was involved in the pilgrimage and put them to death, including Robert Aske. The king could not permit such a breach of the peace and challenge to authority. The agreement with the rebels that had brought Aske to that Christmas Court was likely a delaying tactic: convince the pilgrims to stand down until more forces can be assembled to oppose them.
Then came perhaps the strangest turn of all. In July 1540, three years after the rebellion had passed and most people had put it out of their minds, King Henry VIII had Thomas Cromwell executed. This was the outcome that those who participated in the Pilgrimage of Grace surely desired most, but to dispatch Cromwell in 1536 would have made King Henry VIII look weak. He also likely needed Cromwell to complete the legal process of dissolving the monasteries.
King Henry’s strategy was as follows: 1) Keep the rebellion from proceeding southward by calling a truce and offering minor concessions. 2) When the moment is right, get rid of the rebels. 3) However, since the rebels’ complaints represented genuine grievances held by many of the king’s subjects, eventually grant many of their demands once it no longer appears to be a cave in to rebellion.
Prigozhin’s Protest - 2023
When Russian forces invaded Ukraine in 2022, Vladimir Putin seems to have been under the impression that they would quickly occupy Kiev and install a proxy government that would do Russia’s bidding, if not annex the entirety of Ukraine into the Russian Federation. However, the Russians encountered fierce resistance and were forced to pull back to those areas of Ukraine that had always been most closely aligned with Russia. The losses of men and machinery were heavy. Russia struggled to find answers to the determined efforts of the Ukrainians, who were being armed by NATO.
Putin was forced to increasingly rely on the Wagner Group to advance Russia’s goals in eastern Ukraine. Sadly, this was not a group of people who enjoy epic opera cycles set in the Rhineland, but a mercenary band known for their brutality. The men of Wagner were led by the fiery Yevgeny Prigozhin, Putin’s former butler. (You couldn’t make this stuff up!) Prigozhin quickly became one of the most notorious participants in a brutal war, recruiting in Russian prisons and delivering fiery video messages on Telegram.
As the Ukrainian forces continued to make gains, Prigozhin’s messages were increasingly filled with complaints. However, he could not actually criticize Putin’s leadership. That would have meant the end of his career and a long stay in a Siberian prison. Instead, Prigozhin complained about the military leaders just below Putin, who he accused of mismanaging the war and not giving Wagner its due. Prigozhin’s biggest target was the Russian Minister of Defense, Sergei Shoigu.
On June 23, 2023, Prigozhin had finally had it. He released a final video stating that the Russian invasion had been based on lies, and that errors by the Russian military leadership had led to the deaths of thousands. Prigozhin and the rest of the Wagner Group then hopped in their vehicles and began moving not toward the battleline, but in the opposite direction. They were heading for Moscow, where they would demand a meeting with Putin and insist that he sack Shoigu.
The world watched with bated breath as the Wagner convoy moved steadily closer to Moscow. The mayor of the Russian capitol declared a state of emergency. With what remained of Russia’s depleted military mostly deployed in Ukraine, there were few obstacles preventing Wagner’s advance. Never had anyone mounted such a challenge to government authority in Russia during the Putin era.
Then, all of a sudden, it was over. The convoy turned back. The Russian government had worked out a deal with Prigozhin that was enough to satisfy the Wagner fighters. While some details were publicly announced, the world speculated as to what the real terms might have been.
The coming weeks told the tale. The Wagner Group ceased to exist. Fighters told to join the main Russian military or head for Belarus. Shoigu was allowed to remain in his position, and while Prigozhin remained alive for the moment, it was generally assumed that his days were numbered. Sure enough, on August 23, a plane carrying Prigozhin in Russian airspace crashed.
While many found these events mystifying, it seems clear to me that Putin was behaving just like Henry VIII. When confronted with a band of rebels on the march that was too large for his supporters to immediately defeat, Putin essentially played for time. He offered Wagner enough of a deal to convince them to abandon their march toward Moscow. Then, once a couple months had passed, he had Prigozhin’s plane targeted.
But what about that final element of the Henry VIII story? The pilgrims in 16th century England wanted Cromwell removed, while Prigozhin had wanted Shoigu sacked in the summer of 2023. As it so happens, Putin has just removed Shoigu from his position as Minister of Defense one year after Prigozhin demanded it, long enough that those Russians loyal to the Putin regime may not see it as a capitulation to the rebels’ demands.
Is this truly why Shoigu was shuffled to the side? We cannot know, but there does seem to be a kind of historical rhyme here. As Henry VIII was an authoritarian ruler bent on remaking his kingdom in his own image, so is Putin. When their authority was challenged, both men chose to seemingly offer peace, only to impose brutal vengeance upon the rebels soon thereafter. However, both also understood that the rebels had identified legitimate problems, and they took steps to address those problems after enough time had passed.
There are important differences between the two episodes, and I may be incorrect about the rulers’ motivations. But of all the things authoritarian rulers are known for, originality should not be one of them. They rely always on the public’s tendency to forget and their own ability to remember.
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This is very intriguing. You have amazing insight. Keep up the good work.