Historically there have been hundreds of definitions of what political power is and how it operates. They inevitably boil down to some variation of the ability to shape realities, largely by convincing or coercing others to do what you want. These days we tend to distinguish hard power, which involves the use or threat of force, from soft power that is based only on influence and persuasion.

One of the most interesting and revealing recent glosses on national power comes from US president Barack Obama’s extensive musings with journalist Jeffrey Goldberg in The Atlantic. Mr Obama specifically criticises Russian president Vladimir Putin, asserting that “real power means you can get what you want without having to exert violence,” and suggesting that force is, by definition, self-defeating.

The most comprehensive forms of coercion – by producing terror on the part of the intended target – render a powerful agent able to exercise control without the use of violence. That means that previous violence, or simply the threat of violence, often suffices. But Mr Obama was probably referring to soft power exercised through systems of international law and order, norms and other mechanisms that regulate behaviour without the use of force.

It’s usually impossible to identify precisely where implicit coercion ends and internalised, culturally normative standards begin. Frankly, it’s hard to imagine Mr Obama’s version of “real power” operating effectively without a credible threat of force.

Mr Putin might well retort that power is multifarious and can indeed be the product of the application of force, as he has demonstrated in Ukraine, the Crimea, Georgia and elsewhere, most notably Syria.

Russia has a tiny fraction of the American firepower, both globally and particularly in the Middle East. And while it possesses a number of military bases in Syria, its ability to project power in the region generally is, by any standards and method of calculation, modest compared with the enormous American presence and capacity.

But there is a decided difference of will.

Russia looked on with increasing alarm as its clients in the Syrian regime suffered defeat after defeat in the first part of 2015. When Iranian officials reportedly approached the Russian leadership last summer with a proposal for a coordinated intervention in Syria – with Russia providing the air power and intelligence, technical and logistical support for ground forces combining the Syrian military with Iranian, Hizbollah and Iraqi militia troops – Moscow agreed.

Russia never hamstrung itself by concluding that there were “no good options” in Syria. Instead, it decided on a preferred outcome within the range of plausible scenarios and crafted policies to pursue that as Washington stood on the sidelines doing nothing.

When the preferred Russian outcome appeared to be in grave peril, Moscow decided to use its power to protect its friends and strengthen its hand. The US still took no action.

The recent announcement of a Russian drawdown in Syria assumes the intervention was largely successful. It’s hard to argue with that. A year ago, the regime of Bashar Al Assad looked to be in real trouble. After the intervention, the regime appears to have consolidated control over many crucial and contested areas of the country, and momentum in the conflict seems to have turned in its favour.

Even American officials are widely quoted as saying that the Russian intervention was effective and involved manageable, and even arguably low, costs to Moscow in both blood and treasure while having a major effect on the military and political situation in Syria.

Contradicting the evaluation of his own officials, Mr Obama dismisses the possibility that Russian intervention has been effective. Like many Americans, he seems so traumatised by experiences in Iraq, Afghanistan and even Libya that the notion of a successful limited military intervention in a Middle Eastern conflict looks preposterous.

“They are overextended. They’re bleeding,” and economically crippled, he insists. The assumption Russia must have fallen into a quagmire appears to have been axiomatic.

But, in fact, Russia has at least somewhat managed to shape the strategic landscape in Syria, and the US has not, although their capabilities on paper are not comparable.

The lesson appears not that the use of force is, by definition, self-defeating, but, to the contrary, that there may be ways of making it work, at least in the short run.

Russia’s impact in Syria might prove temporary, and the strategic equation could shift again, confronting them with the real choice between an actually endless, quagmire-like commitment versus accepting an unpalatable outcome. But, for now, Mr Putin appears to have practically demonstrated in Syria how and why Mr Obama’s theory of power is profoundly unconvincing.

The US invests – or given its present reticence perhaps squanders – something like the combined total of all other national defence expenditures globally.

If it will not use that enormous potential kinetic power, or even more importantly, is perceived as being unwilling to use it, then even second-rate powers like Russia can, to their surprise and delight, seize control of the agenda in Syria and beyond. Perhaps real power can indeed “flow from the barrel of a gun.”

That’s why a modest application of hard power can trump even a sustained campaign of soft power.