foreignpolicy--2020-08-15--The Tragic Romance of the Nostalgic Western Liberal

The Tragic Romance of the Nostalgic Western Liberal “ Were some of our friends always closet authoritarians ?
” she wonders .
“ Or have the people with whom we clinked glasses in the first minutes of the new millennium somehow changed over the subsequent two decades ?
” The book is an admirable quest for answers and goes a long way toward providing them .
But it would have benefited from considering whether the questions Applebaum has posed are the right ones to begin with .
Applebaum ’ s new book is partly a brilliant political reportage , partly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ political analysis , and partly a personal diary .
It is also a postscript to a distinct epoch .
The story Applebaum tells is that of the death of anti-communism as the public philosophy of the West .
During the Cold War , the Soviet Union wasn ’ t only America ’ s principal military adversary but also its ideological and moral “ other.
” Both left and right in America and Western Europe defended their competing visions of a liberal society in reaction to the Stalinist nightmare .
This was especially pronounced @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with Soviet communism guided how Americans thought about the core principles underlying their basic institutions .
For American liberalism was , or at least appeared to be , Soviet totalitarianism turned inside out .
Freedoms of speech and the press , as well as freedom of conscience , were idealized precisely because they were cruelly repressed under Moscow ’ s sway .
In the same spirit , Americans underscored the freedom of movement , the right to form private associations , the right to a fair trial , and the right to vote @ @ @ @ @ @ @ toppled from power .
Likewise emphasized was the latitude to accumulate private wealth , on the assumption that a decentralized and unplanned economy alone could provide the basis of both prosperity and political freedom .
What Applebaum ’ s book makes clear is that for people like the Hungarian historian Maria Schmidt or National Review editor-at-large John O ’ Sullivan or the vocal Trump supporter Laura Ingraham , liberal principles were valued only because they were an effective instrument for destroying communism .
When this goal was achieved , values like free media @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be viewed as a threat to Western civilization and traditional Christian values .
The new prophets of illiberalism used all their talent to persuade their societies that the rights of others were a threat to their own rights and that the liberal system of checks and balances was not a way to preserve individuals ’ freedoms but an instrument for elites to abuse the will of the people .
Applebaum is a very good writer ; her style is lucid , and her arguments are bracing .
This has made her one of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ resistance .
But the strength of her new book is not so much in exposing the authoritarian nature of populists in power but in revealing the intellectual hollowness of the anti-communist consensus .
In his review of Jacob Heilbrunn ’ s history of neoconservatism They Knew They Were Right , the author and journalist Timothy Noah sharply observed : “ To be neoconservative is to bear almost daily witness to the resurrection of Adolf Hitler.
” In Applebaum ’ s much more liberal and optimistic version , to be neoconservative is to bear @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Berlin Wall .
Applebaum ’ s political identity was made by her admiration for the moral courage of East European dissidents and her belief in the potential of the United States to make the world a better place .
On Nov. 10 , 1989 , Applebaum , then a young reporter , jumped in a car in the company of her soon-to-be husband—future Polish Foreign and Defense Minister Radek Sikorski—and drove from Warsaw to Berlin to see with her own eyes the collapse of the Berlin Wall .
1989 was the point @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the following three decades .
Her much-praised history books about the Soviet Gulag and the establishment of the communist regimes in Central Europe were her historical introduction to the inevitability of 1989 .
For her , the end of the Cold War was not a geopolitical story ; it was a moral story , a verdict pronounced by history itself .
She tends to see the post-Cold War world as an epic struggle between democracy and authoritarianism , between freedom and oppression .
In this sense , Applebaum is a classic ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ she was shaped by the Cold War without ever really experiencing it .
For the ’ 89ers , the Cold War was what the anti-fascist resistance was for the West ’ s student revolutionaries of the 1960s , the ’ 68ers—a time of inspiring heroism and moral clarity .
In her worldview , the marriage between democracy and capitalism was made in heaven , and most of the conflicts in the world were not about a clash of interests but about a clash of values .
It was this mindset that made many @ @ @ @ @ @ @ coming from Vladimir Putin ’ s Russia but also the last to condemn George W. Bush ’ s ugly war in Iraq .
Applebaum ’ s book could be read in two different modes .
It could be seen as a story of betrayals , a version of Norman Podhoretz ’ s score-settling and acidly written Ex-Friends , or rather as a 21st-century version of Czeslaw Milosz ’ s 1953 classic , The Captive Mind—an attempt to explain the seductive power of communism through the personal choices of fellow intellectuals made in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ either way , it is the personal tone of the narrative that allows Applebaum to go beyond the usual liberal tirades against the new anti-liberals and to reveal some of the neglected sources of certain intellectuals ’ illiberalism .
But the book ’ s subtitle “ The Seductive Lure of Authoritarianism ” is rather misleading .
Unlike communism , authoritarianism is not an ideology .
Populists , unlike communists or fascists , do not dream about a “ new man ” who will be born of their revolution .
What drives intellectual supporters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Orban is not some new vision of society but a pathological hate toward liberalism .
The central and most bitter insight of the book is that Applebaum ’ s ex-friends are not sorry for the breakup of their relationship with her—in fact , they feel liberated from partying with people like her in the first place .
For the nationalist populist , 1989 stands for a victory that was subsequently lost—and they blame people like Applebaum , and her liberal peers , for turning the victory into a defeat .
Populists ’ rejection @ @ @ @ @ @ @ distinctive Polish , British , and American versions , but what is common for the new anti-liberals is the idea of a stolen victory .
In Poland , supporters of the Law and Justice party found it unbearable that ex-communists turned out to be among the winners of the fall of communism .
In the United Kingdom , the West ’ s victory in the Cold War revealed the decline of Britain ’ s influence .
In the United States , Trump ’ s supporters are convinced that not the West but communist @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Cold War .
Intellectuals who support anti-liberal counterrevolution feel deeply betrayed by history .
They swim in pessimism and despair even when they win elections .
The resentment of Applebaum ’ s ex-friends against people like her is their true ideology .
Resentment toward liberalism in places like Poland is a resentment toward cosmopolitan-minded local elites , those who speak foreign languages and joined the global elite and who see the post-communist transition as a success .
In a similar way , the new anti-Semitism in places like Poland is directed not so @ @ @ @ @ @ @ so few of them left there , but against those Poles who are ashamed of Polish anti-Semitism .
Anti-liberal intellectuals have masked their resentment as ideology .
The story of the anti-liberalism of Applebaum ’ s ex-friends does not precisely explain the rise of Trump or Brexit , but it is of critical importance for understanding the dissolution of the pre-1989 democratic moral consensus .
It explains the transformation of democracy in places like Poland , the United States , Britain , and Spain into a civil war with words and ballots .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Louis Marie Bosredon in 1848 , the year France adopted universal male suffrage , depicts the ambivalence of early European democracy .
It shows a worker with a rifle in one hand and a ballot in the other : bullets for the nation ’ s enemies and ballots for the class enemies .
But for the new illiberals , the war against one ’ s political opponent is the real battle .
In this Schmidtean understanding of electoral politics , as civil war with ballots , any criticism toward one ’ s own @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in countries like Poland and the United States is that a democracy of citizens has been replaced by a democracy of fans .
While for a liberal citizen the readiness to point out and correct the mistakes of your own party is a sign of the highest loyalty , the loyalty of fans is zealous , unthinking , and unswerving .
Enthralled fans , with their critical faculties switched off , are central to populists ’ understanding of politics as a loyalty game : Their cheers reflect their sense of belonging .
Trust-but-verify @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who refuse to applaud are traitors , and any statement of fact becomes a declaration of belonging .
When political participants become fans , their primary goal is to make sure their opponents will never come to power .
Populists encourage this mindset—and in their most romantic vein , the liberal ’ 89ers manage to replicate it .
In trying to make sense of the current “ illiberal moment , ” Applebaum frames the choices intellectuals face today as similar to the ones faced by the men of letters in France during the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ authoritarians .
You can sense in this framing an ’ 89er ’ s nostalgia for the illusionary moral clarity of the Cold War .
But while this frame has mobilizing power and gives us a sense of purpose , it blurs the major challenge Western liberalism is facing today—how to uphold Western universalism while Western power is in decline .
Will the West remain devoted to free markets if non-Western economies become more competitive ?
Will the West remain devoted to free elections if they bring to power anti-Western regimes ?
Is the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ does it represent the dark side of democracy we are uncomfortable talking about ?
While Applebaum was finishing her book , COVID-19 infected the world with an ultimate uncertainty .
The distinction between democracies and authoritarian regimes has been blurred .
In the words of the political philosopher David Runciman , “ Under a lockdown , democracies reveal what they have in common with other political regimes : here too politics is ultimately about power and order.
” This new crisis did not bring polarized societies together .
Rather , it pushed them @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a transformative moment—perhaps as transformative for the international system as the end of the Cold War .
But there is a difference : In 1989 , intellectuals had the illusion that they knew which direction the world was going .
Now that illusion is dead .
What the pandemic made clear is that the return to the ideals of 1989 can not be the point of departure when it comes to reforming the world .
In this sense , Applebaum ’ s passionate defense of liberalism is strongest when it recognizes that liberals @ @ @ @ @ @ @ They should start by questioning some of the self-evident truths of 1989 .

Anne Applebaum opens her new book, Twilight of Democracy: The Seductive Lure of Authoritarianism, with a scene on the long winter night of Dec. 31, 1999, in a newly restored family house somewhere in the deep Polish countryside, where a big party is set to celebrate the coming of the new millennium. The closing scene is in the same house 20 years later, where the author has been spending the coronavirus lockdown. In the two decades that stretch between, many of the guests of Applebaum’s new millennium party—a colorful mix of conservative intellectuals, diplomats, and politicians—have become her political enemies, passionate supporters of Donald Trump and Poland’s anti-liberal counterrevolution.
Anne Applebaum opens her new book, Twilight of Democracy: The Seductive Lure of Authoritarianism, with a scene on the long winter night of Dec. 31, 1999, in a newly restored family house somewhere in the deep Polish countryside, where a big party is set to celebrate the coming of the new millennium. The closing scene is in the same house 20 years later, where the author has been spending the coronavirus lockdown. In the two decades that stretch between, many of the guests of Applebaum’s new millennium party—a colorful mix of conservative intellectuals, diplomats, and politicians—have become her political enemies, passionate supporters of Donald Trump and Poland’s anti-liberal counterrevolution.
“Were some of our friends always closet authoritarians?” she wonders. “Or have the people with whom we clinked glasses in the first minutes of the new millennium somehow changed over the subsequent two decades?” The book is an admirable quest for answers and goes a long way toward providing them. But it would have benefited from considering whether the questions Applebaum has posed are the right ones to begin with.
Applebaum’s new book is partly a brilliant political reportage, partly a Central European-style psychodrama, partly a political analysis, and partly a personal diary. It is also a postscript to a distinct epoch. The story Applebaum tells is that of the death of anti-communism as the public philosophy of the West. During the Cold War, the Soviet Union wasn’t only America’s principal military adversary but also its ideological and moral “other.” Both left and right in America and Western Europe defended their competing visions of a liberal society in reaction to the Stalinist nightmare.
This was especially pronounced in the United States. The contest with Soviet communism guided how Americans thought about the core principles underlying their basic institutions. For American liberalism was, or at least appeared to be, Soviet totalitarianism turned inside out. Freedoms of speech and the press, as well as freedom of conscience, were idealized precisely because they were cruelly repressed under Moscow’s sway. In the same spirit, Americans underscored the freedom of movement, the right to form private associations, the right to a fair trial, and the right to vote in competitive elections where incumbents might be toppled from power. Likewise emphasized was the latitude to accumulate private wealth, on the assumption that a decentralized and unplanned economy alone could provide the basis of both prosperity and political freedom.
What Applebaum’s book makes clear is that for people like the Hungarian historian Maria Schmidt or National Review editor-at-large John O’Sullivan or the vocal Trump supporter Laura Ingraham, liberal principles were valued only because they were an effective instrument for destroying communism. When this goal was achieved, values like free media and the division of powers started to be viewed as a threat to Western civilization and traditional Christian values. The new prophets of illiberalism used all their talent to persuade their societies that the rights of others were a threat to their own rights and that the liberal system of checks and balances was not a way to preserve individuals’ freedoms but an instrument for elites to abuse the will of the people.
Applebaum is a very good writer; her style is lucid, and her arguments are bracing. This has made her one of the most powerful voices of the anti-populist resistance. But the strength of her new book is not so much in exposing the authoritarian nature of populists in power but in revealing the intellectual hollowness of the anti-communist consensus.
In his review of Jacob Heilbrunn’s history of neoconservatism They Knew They Were Right, the author and journalist Timothy Noah sharply observed: “To be neoconservative is to bear almost daily witness to the resurrection of Adolf Hitler.” In Applebaum’s much more liberal and optimistic version, to be neoconservative is to bear almost daily witness to the fall of the Berlin Wall. Applebaum’s political identity was made by her admiration for the moral courage of East European dissidents and her belief in the potential of the United States to make the world a better place.
On Nov. 10, 1989, Applebaum, then a young reporter, jumped in a car in the company of her soon-to-be husband—future Polish Foreign and Defense Minister Radek Sikorski—and drove from Warsaw to Berlin to see with her own eyes the collapse of the Berlin Wall. 1989 was the point of departure of everything that Applebaum did in the following three decades. Her much-praised history books about the Soviet Gulag and the establishment of the communist regimes in Central Europe were her historical introduction to the inevitability of 1989. For her, the end of the Cold War was not a geopolitical story; it was a moral story, a verdict pronounced by history itself. She tends to see the post-Cold War world as an epic struggle between democracy and authoritarianism, between freedom and oppression.
In this sense, Applebaum is a classic ’89er; like many of us, she was shaped by the Cold War without ever really experiencing it. For the ’89ers, the Cold War was what the anti-fascist resistance was for the West’s student revolutionaries of the 1960s, the ’68ers—a time of inspiring heroism and moral clarity. In her worldview, the marriage between democracy and capitalism was made in heaven, and most of the conflicts in the world were not about a clash of interests but about a clash of values. It was this mindset that made many ’89ers first to detect the danger coming from Vladimir Putin’s Russia but also the last to condemn George W. Bush’s ugly war in Iraq.
Applebaum’s book could be read in two different modes. It could be seen as a story of betrayals, a version of Norman Podhoretz’s score-settling and acidly written Ex-Friends, or rather as a 21st-century version of Czeslaw Milosz’s 1953 classic, The Captive Mind—an attempt to explain the seductive power of communism through the personal choices of fellow intellectuals made in the wake of World War II. But either way, it is the personal tone of the narrative that allows Applebaum to go beyond the usual liberal tirades against the new anti-liberals and to reveal some of the neglected sources of certain intellectuals’ illiberalism.
But the book’s subtitle “The Seductive Lure of Authoritarianism” is rather misleading. Unlike communism, authoritarianism is not an ideology. Populists, unlike communists or fascists, do not dream about a “new man” who will be born of their revolution. What drives intellectual supporters of Trump and Hungary’s Viktor Orban is not some new vision of society but a pathological hate toward liberalism. The central and most bitter insight of the book is that Applebaum’s ex-friends are not sorry for the breakup of their relationship with her—in fact, they feel liberated from partying with people like her in the first place. For the nationalist populist, 1989 stands for a victory that was subsequently lost—and they blame people like Applebaum, and her liberal peers, for turning the victory into a defeat.
Populists’ rejection of the post-Cold War world has its distinctive Polish, British, and American versions, but what is common for the new anti-liberals is the idea of a stolen victory. In Poland, supporters of the Law and Justice party found it unbearable that ex-communists turned out to be among the winners of the fall of communism. In the United Kingdom, the West’s victory in the Cold War revealed the decline of Britain’s influence. In the United States, Trump’s supporters are convinced that not the West but communist China is the real winner of the Cold War. Intellectuals who support anti-liberal counterrevolution feel deeply betrayed by history. They swim in pessimism and despair even when they win elections.
The resentment of Applebaum’s ex-friends against people like her is their true ideology. Resentment toward liberalism in places like Poland is a resentment toward cosmopolitan-minded local elites, those who speak foreign languages and joined the global elite and who see the post-communist transition as a success. In a similar way, the new anti-Semitism in places like Poland is directed not so much against Jews, as there are so few of them left there, but against those Poles who are ashamed of Polish anti-Semitism. Anti-liberal intellectuals have masked their resentment as ideology.
The story of the anti-liberalism of Applebaum’s ex-friends does not precisely explain the rise of Trump or Brexit, but it is of critical importance for understanding the dissolution of the pre-1989 democratic moral consensus. It explains the transformation of democracy in places like Poland, the United States, Britain, and Spain into a civil war with words and ballots.
A well-known engraving by the French artist Louis Marie Bosredon in 1848, the year France adopted universal male suffrage, depicts the ambivalence of early European democracy. It shows a worker with a rifle in one hand and a ballot in the other: bullets for the nation’s enemies and ballots for the class enemies. But for the new illiberals, the war against one’s political opponent is the real battle. In this Schmidtean understanding of electoral politics, as civil war with ballots, any criticism toward one’s own side equals betrayal.
What we see in countries like Poland and the United States is that a democracy of citizens has been replaced by a democracy of fans. While for a liberal citizen the readiness to point out and correct the mistakes of your own party is a sign of the highest loyalty, the loyalty of fans is zealous, unthinking, and unswerving. Enthralled fans, with their critical faculties switched off, are central to populists’ understanding of politics as a loyalty game: Their cheers reflect their sense of belonging. Trust-but-verify is replaced by rowdy adoration. Those who refuse to applaud are traitors, and any statement of fact becomes a declaration of belonging.
When political participants become fans, their primary goal is to make sure their opponents will never come to power. Populists encourage this mindset—and in their most romantic vein, the liberal ’89ers manage to replicate it.
In trying to make sense of the current “illiberal moment,” Applebaum frames the choices intellectuals face today as similar to the ones faced by the men of letters in France during the Dreyfus Affair—nationalists versus cosmopolitans, democrats versus authoritarians. You can sense in this framing an ’89er’s nostalgia for the illusionary moral clarity of the Cold War. But while this frame has mobilizing power and gives us a sense of purpose, it blurs the major challenge Western liberalism is facing today—how to uphold Western universalism while Western power is in decline. Will the West remain devoted to free markets if non-Western economies become more competitive? Will the West remain devoted to free elections if they bring to power anti-Western regimes? Is the democratic majoritarianism of leaders like Orban anti-democratic—or does it represent the dark side of democracy we are uncomfortable talking about?
While Applebaum was finishing her book, COVID-19 infected the world with an ultimate uncertainty. The distinction between democracies and authoritarian regimes has been blurred. In the words of the political philosopher David Runciman, “Under a lockdown, democracies reveal what they have in common with other political regimes: here too politics is ultimately about power and order.” This new crisis did not bring polarized societies together. Rather, it pushed them even further apart. The pandemic is a transformative moment—perhaps as transformative for the international system as the end of the Cold War. But there is a difference: In 1989, intellectuals had the illusion that they knew which direction the world was going. Now that illusion is dead.
What the pandemic made clear is that the return to the ideals of 1989 cannot be the point of departure when it comes to reforming the world. In this sense, Applebaum’s passionate defense of liberalism is strongest when it recognizes that liberals must be ready to reinvent it. They should start by questioning some of the self-evident truths of 1989.


foreignpolicy--2020-08-17--The Woman Who Started a Revolution in Minsk

MINSK , Belarus—Svetlana Tikhanovskaya is an unlikely hero .
Barely a month ago , she was the supportive wife of an outspoken blogger and a political unknown .
She is uninterested in power and awkward with the media .
But in just a matter of weeks , Tikhanovskaya has transformed into a veritable stateswoman , spearheading a formidable political campaign to break the political morass in Belarus .
Now she is on the cusp of toppling the man known as Europe ’ s last dictator .
Tikhanovskaya , who challenged President Aleksandr Lukashenko in an election on Aug. 9 , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the days after the vote .
She resurfaced in a video pleading with protesters to accept the official results that declared Lukashenko the winner .
For a moment , the prospects for change in Belarus looked fragile .
Yet her departure has not stifled the opposition as feared .
On Sunday , more than 100,000 demonstrators gathered in central Minsk to protest the official election results .
And in recent days , companies across Belarus have called strikes , paralyzing the economy—even in sectors Lukashenko considered his heartland .
In the streets @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , calls for Tikhanovskaya ’ s return have increased .
On Monday , she indicated that she would be ready to “ act as national leader.
” Tikhanovskaya was never destined for political life .
As a child , she was evacuated after the Chernobyl nuclear accident in 1986 to rural Ireland , where she polished her English , and has often returned to visit the family who took her in .
“ Inside me , I ’ m still that shy girl that doesn ’ t want power , that ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t want to be here—in politics , ” she said ahead of the election .
The condensed , six-week campaign seemed to wear on Tikhanovskaya , with cross-country road trips and a wall of intimidation and harassment from the government .
Her husband , who was barred from standing for the presidency in May , was languishing in prison .
She hadn ’ t seen her children in weeks , having sent them to the European Union for their safety a short time into the campaign .
It is often said the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the reins of power .
After her husband ’ s arrest , Tikhanovskaya stepped in and charged full throttle at Lukashenko , who has ruled Belarus for 26 years .
In a converted factory in Minsk ’ s Horizont neighborhood three days before the election , she recorded the final video of her campaign , titled : “ A message to the Belarusian people.
” “ Belarus does not belong to politicians , parties , or groups .
Belarus belongs only to itself and its people , ” she rehearsed .
“ Belarus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can ’ t belong to one person.
” Tikhanovskaya ’ s campaign was a hybrid of three opposition campaigns : her husband ’ s ; that of the campaign of former banker Viktor Babryka , also jailed after announcing his candidacy ; and former ambassador to the United States Valery Tsepkalo , who fled to Moscow under fear of arrest .
Her manifesto consisted of little more than a pledge to free all political prisoners , including her husband , and to hold fresh elections within six months—allowing Belarusians to debate their country @ @ @ @ @ @ @ A troika of women with Tikhanovskaya at its helm formed the engine of the campaign , with Maria Kolesnikova , a former music producer who worked on the Babryka campaign , and Veronica Tsepkalo , the wife of Valery , alongside her .
They set aside political differences and embraced the simplest of aims : to force Lukashenko out and hold fair elections .
Information coming in from across the capital was promising .
Unofficial preliminary results from dozens of polling stations across Minsk showed that Tikhanovskaya had received in some cases five @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the HQ meeting room , Kolesnikova jumped around in excitement , embracing the campaign ’ s lawyer , Maksim Znak .
The campaign soon called a press conference and announced some of the results to international media .
Campaigners erupted into applause as campaign spokesperson Olga Kovalkova , read out one result .
“ Polling Station 37 , Pervomaisky district … Alexander Lukashenko 297… Tsikhanovskaya 848 !
” “ Everyone always tells us the same , all these three months : that you can ’ t do anything , that the results are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ But now we ’ ve seen what we hoped for .
It seems the people that count votes are really aware of the opinion of the majority , ” Ivan Kravtsov , a campaign coordinator for Kolesnikova said .
“ We are seeing that the system fails.
” The optimism was intoxicating , but Lukashenko had already won the election , with widespread vote rigging apparently taking place earlier that week .
In the days leading up to the election , thousands of polling stations opened early to give the elderly or those @ @ @ @ @ @ @ election day an opportunity to cast their votes .
The greatest opportunity it provided was the potential for rigging the outcome in the absence of election monitors .
By the time the polls opened on Aug. 9 , independent observers had already failed in a legal battle with the Belarusian electoral commission to be allowed into voting stations .
Barred from entering the sites , thousands instead sat outside counting every person who went in .
They cross-referenced those numbers with official figures from individual voting districts .
The numbers didn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the volunteers , Lera Kalesnik , coordinates a team of monitors at three polling stations in western Minsk .
“ On Thursday , we counted 161 people entering all three stations .
Official numbers from just one station said 177 people had voted .
That ’ s not counting the other two stations , ” she said .
“ How did those extra 100 people vote ?
They didn ’ t enter the station .
We didn ’ t take our eyes off the door.
” Honest People , an organization with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the observers , said similar irregularities occurred at polling stations across the country , with official numbers claiming more votes cast than people who had entered the stations—often by a large margin .
As the five-day period of early voting ended , the government said 41.7 percent of Belarusians had already voted .
Despite campaign pleas to hold the line until official results were announced , anger was already pouring onto the streets outside by 9:30 p.m .
Many who had cast their vote for Tikhanovskaya didn ’ t need to see the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had been rigged .
Small crowds began to assemble , and before midnight a sea of red and white flags flowed past Minsk ’ s Soviet monuments .
Families watched from their balconies , dropping bottles of water and candy to those marching below .
Drivers unable to move through the crowd locked their cars and joined the procession on foot .
Cars blared their horns .
“ Changes ” —a Russian rock song from the 1980s synonymous with perestroika and now the anthem of Belarus ’ s own Red and White revolution—echoed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stereos .
The peaceful march , along with others across the country , was met with unremitting violence .
Demonstrators were unprepared for the teargas and the flashbangs .
But dozens of masked men were deployed from dark green paddy wagons , chasing and beating anyone they could catch .
By Thursday , at least 6,700 people had been detained , according to the Interior Ministry .
The system was unable to handle the logistics of arresting so many people , released detainees told Foreign Policy .
One activist said he had spent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the courtyard of a police station with dozens of others because all the cells were full .
The official results , released by the Central Election Commission on Aug. 14 , said that Lukashenko had won with 80 percent of the vote , while Tikhanovskaya received just 10 percent .
By then , Tikhanovskaya had already been forced to flee .
She eventually surfaced in a video , hinting at being forced to make a “ choice ” and calling on the protesters to respect the results .
Campaign staffers say that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Others associated with the campaign also left the country within hours of the triumphant Sunday night press conference .
Of the troika , only Kolesnikova remains in Belarus , along with a handful of aides who vowed never to leave the country .
Just 24 hours after polls closed , the United Campaign headquarters were all but abandoned .
As the organized opposition disintegrated , protests spread beyond Minsk .
Opposition Telegram channels , some with more than 2 million followers , have proved effective at coordinating rallies in Tikhanovskaya ’ s absence @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have walked out , including employees of Belarusian state TV—a bastion of regime propaganda .
The Belarusian march goes on , and those marching chant Tikhanovskaya ’ s name .
They want her back .
Yet as Vladimir Edvin , a 29-year-old unemployed mechanic , said , “ We ’ ll march with or without her .
”

MINSK, Belarus—Svetlana Tikhanovskaya is an unlikely hero. Barely a month ago, she was the supportive wife of an outspoken blogger and a political unknown. She is uninterested in power and awkward with the media. But in just a matter of weeks, Tikhanovskaya has transformed into a veritable stateswoman, spearheading a formidable political campaign to break the political morass in Belarus. Now she is on the cusp of toppling the man known as Europe’s last dictator.
MINSK, Belarus—Svetlana Tikhanovskaya is an unlikely hero. Barely a month ago, she was the supportive wife of an outspoken blogger and a political unknown. She is uninterested in power and awkward with the media. But in just a matter of weeks, Tikhanovskaya has transformed into a veritable stateswoman, spearheading a formidable political campaign to break the political morass in Belarus. Now she is on the cusp of toppling the man known as Europe’s last dictator.
Tikhanovskaya, who challenged President Aleksandr Lukashenko in an election on Aug. 9, was forced to flee Belarus for Lithuania in the days after the vote. She resurfaced in a video pleading with protesters to accept the official results that declared Lukashenko the winner. For a moment, the prospects for change in Belarus looked fragile. Yet her departure has not stifled the opposition as feared.
On Sunday, more than 100,000 demonstrators gathered in central Minsk to protest the official election results. And in recent days, companies across Belarus have called strikes, paralyzing the economy—even in sectors Lukashenko considered his heartland. In the streets of Minsk and the parks of Brest, calls for Tikhanovskaya’s return have increased. On Monday, she indicated that she would be ready to “act as national leader.”
A woman raises her hands to form a heart—the symbol demonstrators have used to show their peaceful intentions—and begs police to put down their weapons and join protesters in Minsk on Aug. 9.
Tikhanovskaya was never destined for political life. As a child, she was evacuated after the Chernobyl nuclear accident in 1986 to rural Ireland, where she polished her English, and has often returned to visit the family who took her in. “Inside me, I’m still that shy girl that doesn’t want power, that’s not a politician, and I don’t want to be here—in politics,” she said ahead of the election.
The condensed, six-week campaign seemed to wear on Tikhanovskaya, with cross-country road trips and a wall of intimidation and harassment from the government. Her husband, who was barred from standing for the presidency in May, was languishing in prison. She hadn’t seen her children in weeks, having sent them to the European Union for their safety a short time into the campaign.
It is often said the best leaders are those reluctant to take the reins of power. After her husband’s arrest, Tikhanovskaya stepped in and charged full throttle at Lukashenko, who has ruled Belarus for 26 years.
In a converted factory in Minsk’s Horizont neighborhood three days before the election, she recorded the final video of her campaign, titled: “A message to the Belarusian people.”
“Belarus does not belong to politicians, parties, or groups. Belarus belongs only to itself and its people,” she rehearsed. “Belarus is not a property. A country can’t belong to one person.”
Tikhanovskaya’s campaign was a hybrid of three opposition campaigns: her husband’s; that of the campaign of former banker Viktor Babryka, also jailed after announcing his candidacy; and former ambassador to the United States Valery Tsepkalo, who fled to Moscow under fear of arrest. Her manifesto consisted of little more than a pledge to free all political prisoners, including her husband, and to hold fresh elections within six months—allowing Belarusians to debate their country’s future on open terms.
A troika of women with Tikhanovskaya at its helm formed the engine of the campaign, with Maria Kolesnikova, a former music producer who worked on the Babryka campaign, and Veronica Tsepkalo, the wife of Valery, alongside her. They set aside political differences and embraced the simplest of aims: to force Lukashenko out and hold fair elections.
Tikhanovskaya (center) attends a news conference in Minsk on Aug. 9.
The United Campaign headquarters, in a chic neighborhood of eastern Minsk, was a dizzying mixture of hope and nerves on election day. The campaign had stuck to a simple strategy of competing in good faith, refusing to endorse strikes or protests until after the polls had closed and official results were announced—giving Lukashenko’s regime zero reason to clamp down on their efforts.
Information coming in from across the capital was promising. Unofficial preliminary results from dozens of polling stations across Minsk showed that Tikhanovskaya had received in some cases five times more votes than Lukashenko. In the HQ meeting room, Kolesnikova jumped around in excitement, embracing the campaign’s lawyer, Maksim Znak.
The campaign soon called a press conference and announced some of the results to international media. Campaigners erupted into applause as campaign spokesperson Olga Kovalkova, read out one result. “Polling Station 37, Pervomaisky district … Alexander Lukashenko 297… Tikhanovskaya 848!”
“Everyone always tells us the same, all these three months: that you can’t do anything, that the results are already decided by the presidential administration. But now we’ve seen what we hoped for. It seems the people that count votes are really aware of the opinion of the majority,” Ivan Kravtsov, a campaign coordinator for Kolesnikova said. “We are seeing that the system fails.”
During the election, Nick, a former Belarus international basketball player seen in Minsk on Aug. 7, volunteered for Honest People, an independent organization that observes polling stations. He and his colleagues reported large disparities daily, indicating that the government was falsifying ballots.
The opposition headquarters in Minsk are quiet after Lukashenko's declared landslide victory on Aug. 9, with a painting of Tikhanovskaya discarded on the floor.
The optimism was intoxicating, but Lukashenko had already won the election, with widespread vote rigging apparently taking place earlier that week. In the days leading up to the election, thousands of polling stations opened early to give the elderly or those who might be busy or traveling on election day an opportunity to cast their votes. The greatest opportunity it provided was the potential for rigging the outcome in the absence of election monitors.
By the time the polls opened on Aug. 9, independent observers had already failed in a legal battle with the Belarusian electoral commission to be allowed into voting stations. Barred from entering the sites, thousands instead sat outside counting every person who went in. They cross-referenced those numbers with official figures from individual voting districts. The numbers didn’t come close to adding up.
One of the volunteers, Lera Kalesnik, coordinates a team of monitors at three polling stations in western Minsk. “On Thursday, we counted 161 people entering all three stations. Official numbers from just one station said 177 people had voted. That’s not counting the other two stations,” she said. “How did those extra 100 people vote? They didn’t enter the station. We didn’t take our eyes off the door.”
Honest People, an organization with ties to jailed candidate Babryka that oversees the observers, said similar irregularities occurred at polling stations across the country, with official numbers claiming more votes cast than people who had entered the stations—often by a large margin. As the five-day period of early voting ended, the government said 41.7 percent of Belarusians had already voted.
After riot police successfully dispersed the crowd using tear gas, flash-bang grenades, and water cannons, a man holds his hands up to form a heart—the symbol demonstrators used to show their peaceful intentions during the first night of protests in Minsk on Aug. 9.
A woman sits in front of riot police as thousands march on Minsk to voice their anger at the contested election of Alexandr Lukashenko and his government on Aug. 9.
Riot police brace for impact as they square off with protesters in Minsk on Aug. 9.
Ahead of the election, indicators of the crackdown that would follow were everywhere. Veronika Tsepkalo fled to Moscow on the eve of the vote. The Belarusian security services, still called the KGB, detained Kolesnikova en route to dinner the same night—though she was released in time to order her main course—saying they had arrested her by mistake. In the week leading up to the election, KGB agents pulled hundreds of people off the street at random, forcing them into black transit vans. Videos shared on opposition Telegram channels show that some people were dragged kicking and screaming by masked men, while others went quietly.
Despite campaign pleas to hold the line until official results were announced, anger was already pouring onto the streets outside by 9:30 p.m. Many who had cast their vote for Tikhanovskaya didn’t need to see the official results to know that the election had been rigged. Small crowds began to assemble, and before midnight a sea of red and white flags flowed past Minsk’s Soviet monuments.
Families watched from their balconies, dropping bottles of water and candy to those marching below. Drivers unable to move through the crowd locked their cars and joined the procession on foot. Cars blared their horns. “Changes”—a Russian rock song from the 1980s synonymous with perestroika and now the anthem of Belarus’s own Red and White revolution—echoed out of apartment blocks and from car stereos.
The peaceful march, along with others across the country, was met with unremitting violence. Demonstrators were unprepared for the teargas and the flashbangs. But dozens of masked men were deployed from dark green paddy wagons, chasing and beating anyone they could catch. By Thursday, at least 6,700 people had been detained, according to the Interior Ministry.
Protesters smash bricks into smaller pieces for ammunition to throw at riot police during a second night of protests after the election in Minsk on Aug. 10.
People react in shock after being engulfed in tear gas in Minsk on Aug. 10. In the distance, a resident pulls back her blinds to survey the street scene.
The system was unable to handle the logistics of arresting so many people, released detainees told Foreign Policy. One activist said he had spent the night standing blindfolded against a wall in the courtyard of a police station with dozens of others because all the cells were full.
The official results, released by the Central Election Commission on Aug. 14, said that Lukashenko had won with 80 percent of the vote, while Tikhanovskaya received just 10 percent. By then, Tikhanovskaya had already been forced to flee. She eventually surfaced in a video, hinting at being forced to make a “choice” and calling on the protesters to respect the results. Campaign staffers say that her children may have been threatened.
Others associated with the campaign also left the country within hours of the triumphant Sunday night press conference. Of the troika, only Kolesnikova remains in Belarus, along with a handful of aides who vowed never to leave the country. Just 24 hours after polls closed, the United Campaign headquarters were all but abandoned.
As the organized opposition disintegrated, protests spread beyond Minsk. Opposition Telegram channels, some with more than 2 million followers, have proved effective at coordinating rallies in Tikhanovskaya’s absence. Workers at dozens of state-owned businesses have walked out, including employees of Belarusian state TV—a bastion of regime propaganda. The Belarusian march goes on, and those marching chant Tikhanovskaya’s name. They want her back. Yet as Vladimir Edvin, a 29-year-old unemployed mechanic, said, “We’ll march with or without her.”


foreignpolicy--2020-08-17--European Leaders Urge Russia Not to Intervene in Belarus

European Leaders Urge Russia Not to Intervene in Belarus European leaders have urged Russia not to intervene in neighboring Belarus as growing protests pose an unprecedented challenge to President Aleksandr Lukashenko ’ s 26-year rule .
As pressure from protesters mounted over the weekend , Lukashenko said he had received assurances from Russian President Vladimir Putin that Russia was ready to provide “ comprehensive assistance to ensure the security of Belarus.
” He also claimed that NATO was amassing troops along the Belarus border—allegations that the trans-Atlantic alliance has denied .
A Kremlin readout of a call between the two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ readiness to render the necessary assistance to resolve the challenges facing Belarus.
” In an interview with Foreign Policy , Lithuanian Foreign Minister Linas Linkevicius said he doubts that Russia would launch an invasion or incursion into Belarus—as happened in Ukraine in 2014 after the Maidan Revolution ousted pro-Kremlin leader Viktor Yanukovych—but did not rule out the possibility of Russian interference .
“ I hope it ’ s not realistic , but at the same time I think you can not deny it because it ’ s a possibility , ” Linkevicius said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been the cornerstone of Russia ’ s modus operandi under Putin , experts say Russian military intervention would prove to be expensive , bloody , and unpopular with Russian voters at a time when opinion polls show trust in Putin is at an all-time low .
Still , the Kremlin has plenty of other points of leverage beyond intervention .
Belarus ’ s anemic economy is highly dependent on Moscow ’ s energy exports , and the country ’ s media is also closely intertwined with Russia ’ s , making it vulnerable @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fault lines of NATO and Russia , Belarus has historically been a reliable ally for Moscow—even as Lukashenko tried at times to play Russia and the West off one another for his own political gain .
Russia ’ s invasion of Ukraine prompted Lukashenko to rethink his dependence on Moscow , and his relationship with Putin has frayed in recent years—another reason to doubt Putin ’ s willingness to prop up the Belarusian leader as his grip on power loosens .
Lithuania , a NATO and European Union member state that borders Belarus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ country , has played an outsized role in Europe ’ s response to the surge in protests against Lukashenko .
The protests began a week ago , after the president ’ s disputed reelection .
His regime is widely believed to have falsified the results .
The opposition leader Svetlana Tikhanovskaya , a political novice who posed a serious challenge to Lukashenko ahead of the vote , fled to Lithuania last week after receiving apparent threats against her family .
The Belarusian leader ’ s grip on power is looking increasingly shaky as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Sunday for the largest protest in the country ’ s modern history .
Lukashenko initially dug in his heels , unleashing his security forces to violently quell protests and dismissing calls for another election .
Speaking to a counter-rally of stalwart supporters on Sunday , Lukashenko castigated his political opponents as traitors and puppets .
“ Even if they calm down now , they will again crawl out of their holes like rats after a while , ” he said .
But he appeared to offer small concessions after it became clear that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the country ’ s state-owned enterprises were crumbling .
On Monday , workers at a state-run tractor factory in Minsk chanted “ leave ” as Lukashenko tried to give a speech .
At the end of his talk , a visibly rattled Lukashenko said , “ Thank you , I have said everything .
You can shout ‘ Leave.
’ ” Blue-collar workers who once formed a core part of Lukashenko ’ s support base have gone on strike at several large factories over the past week as frustration mounts over the election @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
On Monday hundreds of journalists working for state television , usually a reliable source of pro-regime propaganda , went on strike .
In a video posted on social media on Monday , Lukashenko chided a crowd of protesting workers : “ Don ’ t worry , I won ’ t beat you , it ’ s not in my interests , ” he said .
“ But if one of you provokes me , I ’ ll deal with it cruelly .
Be a man .
There ’ s a whole crowd @ @ @ @ @ @ @ only all alone .
Put your phone down !
” he added , according to a video taken of the event .
In a little over a week almost 7,000 people have been arrested and hundreds have been injured in clashes with the security forces .
Protesters released from prison on Thursday shared gruesome accounts of their detention , including beatings and overcrowded conditions .
Some of the detainees were forced to lie face-down in puddles of blood .
With his back to the wall , Lukashenko on Monday offered changes to the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ possibility of new elections .
“ We need to adopt a new constitution .
You must adopt it in a referendum , and under the new constitution , you could hold if you like both parliamentary elections and a presidential one , as well as elections of local authorities , ” he said , according to Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty .
But Belarusian opposition figures and other Western officials appeared to view the proposals as too little , too late .
Linkevicius , who referred to Lukashenko as “ the former head of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Belarusian leader has “ lost all his credibility ” in the eyes of the Belarusian people .
“ I see no prospective for him to stay , because it is very difficult after what he did to his own people.
” Linkevicius said the EU was preparing targeted sanctions against Belarusian government officials involved in electoral fraud and the ensuing crackdown on protesters .
“ We ’ re talking about individual targeted sanctions—those who committed electoral fraud , used excessive force in the streets , the leadership , riot police leadership , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he said .
“ It ’ s very important to politically isolate these de facto leaders so they can understand that there is no future for them after what they did.
” The KGB is the name of Belarus ’ s national intelligence agency .
Lithuania has proposed creating an EU fund to help victims of the crackdown and offer financial lifelines to Belarusian civil society pushing for democratic reforms in the country .
EU leaders are expected to hold an emergency video conference meeting on Wednesday to address the crisis in Belarus @

European leaders have urged Russia not to intervene in neighboring Belarus as growing protests pose an unprecedented challenge to President Aleksandr Lukashenko’s 26-year rule.
European leaders have urged Russia not to intervene in neighboring Belarus as growing protests pose an unprecedented challenge to President Aleksandr Lukashenko’s 26-year rule.
As pressure from protesters mounted over the weekend, Lukashenko said he had received assurances from Russian President Vladimir Putin that Russia was ready to provide “comprehensive assistance to ensure the security of Belarus.” He also claimed that NATO was amassing troops along the Belarus border—allegations that the trans-Atlantic alliance has denied. A Kremlin readout of a call between the two leaders said that Russia “reaffirmed its readiness to render the necessary assistance to resolve the challenges facing Belarus.”
In an interview with Foreign Policy, Lithuanian Foreign Minister Linas Linkevicius said he doubts that Russia would launch an invasion or incursion into Belarus—as happened in Ukraine in 2014 after the Maidan Revolution ousted pro-Kremlin leader Viktor Yanukovych—but did not rule out the possibility of Russian interference.
“I hope it’s not realistic, but at the same time I think you cannot deny it because it’s a possibility,” Linkevicius said.
While the element of surprise has been the cornerstone of Russia’s modus operandi under Putin, experts say Russian military intervention would prove to be expensive, bloody, and unpopular with Russian voters at a time when opinion polls show trust in Putin is at an all-time low.
Still, the Kremlin has plenty of other points of leverage beyond intervention. Belarus’s anemic economy is highly dependent on Moscow’s energy exports, and the country’s media is also closely intertwined with Russia’s, making it vulnerable to disinformation operations.
Sitting on the fault lines of NATO and Russia, Belarus has historically been a reliable ally for Moscow—even as Lukashenko tried at times to play Russia and the West off one another for his own political gain. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine prompted Lukashenko to rethink his dependence on Moscow, and his relationship with Putin has frayed in recent years—another reason to doubt Putin’s willingness to prop up the Belarusian leader as his grip on power loosens.
Lithuania, a NATO and European Union member state that borders Belarus and has deep historical ties to the country, has played an outsized role in Europe’s response to the surge in protests against Lukashenko. The protests began a week ago, after the president’s disputed reelection. His regime is widely believed to have falsified the results.
The opposition leader Svetlana Tikhanovskaya, a political novice who posed a serious challenge to Lukashenko ahead of the vote, fled to Lithuania last week after receiving apparent threats against her family.
The Belarusian leader’s grip on power is looking increasingly shaky as around 100,000 people gathered in Minsk on Sunday for the largest protest in the country’s modern history.
Lukashenko initially dug in his heels, unleashing his security forces to violently quell protests and dismissing calls for another election. Speaking to a counter-rally of stalwart supporters on Sunday, Lukashenko castigated his political opponents as traitors and puppets. “Even if they calm down now, they will again crawl out of their holes like rats after a while,” he said.
But he appeared to offer small concessions after it became clear that key elements of his political support among the country’s state-owned enterprises were crumbling.
On Monday, workers at a state-run tractor factory in Minsk chanted “leave” as Lukashenko tried to give a speech. At the end of his talk, a visibly rattled Lukashenko said, “Thank you, I have said everything. You can shout ‘Leave.’”
Blue-collar workers who once formed a core part of Lukashenko’s support base have gone on strike at several large factories over the past week as frustration mounts over the election and the police brutality against peaceful protesters. On Monday hundreds of journalists working for state television, usually a reliable source of pro-regime propaganda, went on strike.
In a video posted on social media on Monday, Lukashenko chided a crowd of protesting workers: “Don’t worry, I won’t beat you, it’s not in my interests,” he said. “But if one of you provokes me, I’ll deal with it cruelly. Be a man. There’s a whole crowd of you here and I’m only all alone. Put your phone down!” he added, according to a video taken of the event.
In a little over a week almost 7,000 people have been arrested and hundreds have been injured in clashes with the security forces. Protesters released from prison on Thursday shared gruesome accounts of their detention, including beatings and overcrowded conditions. Some of the detainees were forced to lie face-down in puddles of blood.
With his back to the wall, Lukashenko on Monday offered changes to the country’s constitution and raised the possibility of new elections. “We need to adopt a new constitution. You must adopt it in a referendum, and under the new constitution, you could hold if you like both parliamentary elections and a presidential one, as well as elections of local authorities,” he said, according to Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty.
But Belarusian opposition figures and other Western officials appeared to view the proposals as too little, too late.
Linkevicius, who referred to Lukashenko as “the former head of state” in his interview, said the Belarusian leader has “lost all his credibility” in the eyes of the Belarusian people. “I see no prospective for him to stay, because it is very difficult after what he did to his own people.”
Linkevicius said the EU was preparing targeted sanctions against Belarusian government officials involved in electoral fraud and the ensuing crackdown on protesters. “We’re talking about individual targeted sanctions—those who committed electoral fraud, used excessive force in the streets, the leadership, riot police leadership, KGB, leadership like that,” he said. “It’s very important to politically isolate these de facto leaders so they can understand that there is no future for them after what they did.” The KGB is the name of Belarus’s national intelligence agency.
Lithuania has proposed creating an EU fund to help victims of the crackdown and offer financial lifelines to Belarusian civil society pushing for democratic reforms in the country. EU leaders are expected to hold an emergency video conference meeting on Wednesday to address the crisis in Belarus.


foreignpolicy--2020-08-17--China Is Getting Mired in the Middle East

China Is Getting Mired in the Middle East Recent reports of an ambitious 25-year comprehensive strategic partnership agreement between Iran and China have reverberated across Southwest Asia and beyond .
The agreement raises the question of whether we are witnessing a tectonic shift in Asia ’ s geostrategic landscape or merely a marriage of convenience .
The answer is not yet clear , but the agreement will likely face several hurdles , and may have unintended consequences by drawing China into the vortex of Middle Eastern politics .
Word of the agreement comes amid rising tensions between Iran and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has been devastated by U.S. sanctions , and the agreement could offer Tehran a lifeline and potential leverage against Washington .
Indeed , the leak of the impending agreement may have been a message intended to signal to a U.S. audience that Iran can frustrate the United States ’ so-called maximum pressure campaign by aligning closely with China .
China ’ s relations with the United States also have deteriorated sharply , but it would be a mistake to categorize the agreement as simply another example of a recent flurry of assertive Chinese @ @ @ @ @ @ @ best understood through the lens of the Belt and Road Initiative ( BRI ) , which aims to connect China economically with major markets in Asia , Europe , and Africa , as well as making China ’ s long-term energy supplies more secure , and consolidating China ’ s overall strategic position in the Gulf.A partnership with Tehran offers Beijing a geostrategic foothold in a prime location .
The $ 400 billion worth of projects purportedly envisioned would represent China ’ s largest agreement to date for any single country in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of $ 62 billion planned as part of the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor .
They are said to include railways , ports , subways , oil and gas production , telecommunications , manufacturing , and military cooperation .
In return , Iran has apparently agreed to provide China with heavily discounted oil .
The agreement should not be judged solely in commercial terms , which will always be difficult to achieve , but rather by its strategic impact .
In this respect , a partnership with Tehran offers Beijing a geostrategic foothold in a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a vital segment of a BRI corridor tracing the ancient Silk Road linking Western China with the Middle East and Europe .
But it would be a mistake to assume that all will go smoothly with the China-Iran agreement .
Implementation will face considerable challenges that neither country may fully appreciate .
Among these are Iran ’ s unhappy experiences with great powers , which have left an indelible mark on the country ’ s collective psyche .
Historical memories of the 1828 Treaty of Turkmenchay in which Iran ceded territory to Russia @ @ @ @ @ @ @ World War II , and the U.S.-British backed overthrow of Prime Minister Mohammad Mosaddeq in 1953 run deep among Iranians .
The revolutionary slogan “ neither East , nor West ” captured the essence of Iran ’ s suspicion of the designs of great powers .
Given this history , many Iranians are reflexively suspicious about the China-Iran agreement and have accused the government of selling the country ’ s assets on the cheap .
This popular sentiment can not be ignored .
In practice , Iran may slow-roll , renegotiate , or @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , especially if it manages to reestablish commercial relations with the West .
The Middle East ’ s fierce rivalries and active conflicts will also present challenges .
Beijing certainly wants to avoid the kind of military entanglements that have bogged down Washington in the region even as it benefits from a U.S. security umbrella to advance its interests .
Yet history suggests that the economic , political , and military interests of great powers are inexorably intertwined .
As its economic interests in the Middle East grow , China will find it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and security questions in a region where the principal actors expect great powers to take their side .
This puts China in a quandary .
It wants to build a strategic relationship with Iran even as it cultivates closer ties with key regional players Saudi Arabia , the United Arab Emirates , and Israel .
In fact , China is also negotiating comprehensive strategic partnerships with Saudi Arabia and the UAE .
Yet these countries view Iran as an existential threat , and China risks alienating them if it empowers their archrival .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ trade with Saudi Arabia , the UAE , and Israel was three and half times greater than its trade with Iran ( $ 123 billion versus $ 35 billion ) .
And just days before word of the China-Iran agreement leaked , Chinese and Arab League foreign ministers adopted the Amman Declaration , with Arab states endorsing China ’ s central foreign policy concept of “ a community with a shared future for mankind.
” Such considerations may explain why Beijing has not officially confirmed that it is on the verge of an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ interest in sustaining good relationships with the Arab Gulf monarchies and Israel raises the intriguing question of whether it is prepared to use its prospective investments in Iran as leverage to curb Iranian policies that threaten others in the region , especially the support for Iranian proxies in Lebanon , Yemen , Iraq , and Syria .
This is unlikely .
China ’ s deep foreign-policy instinct is to stay out of regional rivalries and wherever possible to sit on the fence .
But the sheer dimensions of this prospective strategic partnership with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Israel to conclude that China has now decisively tilted in the direction of their nemesis .
I observed China ’ s interaction with Iran as a participant in international nuclear negotiations with Tehran from 2009 to 2013 .
China was typically the most reticent party at the table , but it also had the ability to get Iran ’ s attention and affect its calculus in ways that others could not .
It has even greater influence with Iran today , but failing to exercise it to moderate Tehran ’ s regional @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s long-term economic strategy in the Middle East , which ultimately is best served by strategic stability .
That strategy aims to draw the region into China ’ s economic orbit and to secure reliable sources of oil .
It relies on the BRI model of infrastructure investment and economic development , which includes a heavy emphasis on the construction of ports and railways to promote economic connectivity .
China ’ s conviction appears to be that refocusing the Middle East ’ s attention toward economic development will have a transformative effect .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ importer since 2017 , China is increasingly dependent on Middle Eastern energy .
Last year , Saudi Arabia became China ’ s top supplier of oil .
And three Middle Eastern countries—Iraq , the UAE , and Iran—are also among the largest suppliers .
Oil dependence brings with it exposure to the region ’ s political volatility .
A vivid example of this axiom is a suspected Iranian attack last September against the Abqaiq and Khurais oil processing facilities in Saudi Arabia which temporarily took 5 percent of global oil production offline and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ percent .
China ’ s conviction appears to be that refocusing the Middle East ’ s attention toward economic development will have a transformative effect in lowering tensions that have become an endemic feature of the region .
But advancing connectivity across a disjointed landscape will be no easy feat .
What China sees as a win-win may be interpreted by countries in the region as playing both sides .
Thus far , Beijing has managed to enjoy positive and growing ties with the Gulf monarchies , Israel , and Iran .
Each @ @ @ @ @ @ @ investment and know-how .
But the region ’ s reaction to the massive scope of investments in the potential China-Iran agreement may force China to either scale back its planned engagement with Iran or enter unchartered waters and use traditional statecraft to more actively address Gulf Arab and Israeli concerns with Iranian policies .
It will be reluctant to acknowledge that it faces such a choice , but the harsh realities of the Middle East may soon make that clear .

Recent reports of an ambitious 25-year comprehensive strategic partnership agreement between Iran and China have reverberated across Southwest Asia and beyond. The agreement raises the question of whether we are witnessing a tectonic shift in Asia’s geostrategic landscape or merely a marriage of convenience. The answer is not yet clear, but the agreement will likely face several hurdles, and may have unintended consequences by drawing China into the vortex of Middle Eastern politics.
Recent reports of an ambitious 25-year comprehensive strategic partnership agreement between Iran and China have reverberated across Southwest Asia and beyond. The agreement raises the question of whether we are witnessing a tectonic shift in Asia’s geostrategic landscape or merely a marriage of convenience. The answer is not yet clear, but the agreement will likely face several hurdles, and may have unintended consequences by drawing China into the vortex of Middle Eastern politics.
Word of the agreement comes amid rising tensions between Iran and the United States. Iran’s economy has been devastated by U.S. sanctions, and the agreement could offer Tehran a lifeline and potential leverage against Washington. Indeed, the leak of the impending agreement may have been a message intended to signal to a U.S. audience that Iran can frustrate the United States’ so-called maximum pressure campaign by aligning closely with China.
China’s relations with the United States also have deteriorated sharply, but it would be a mistake to categorize the agreement as simply another example of a recent flurry of assertive Chinese moves. Instead, the agreement is best understood through the lens of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), which aims to connect China economically with major markets in Asia, Europe, and Africa, as well as making China’s long-term energy supplies more secure, and consolidating China’s overall strategic position in the Gulf.A partnership with Tehran offers Beijing a geostrategic foothold in a prime location.
The $400 billion worth of projects purportedly envisioned would represent China’s largest agreement to date for any single country in the BRI, dwarfing the next biggest investment of $62 billion planned as part of the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor. They are said to include railways, ports, subways, oil and gas production, telecommunications, manufacturing, and military cooperation. In return, Iran has apparently agreed to provide China with heavily discounted oil.
The agreement should not be judged solely in commercial terms, which will always be difficult to achieve, but rather by its strategic impact. In this respect, a partnership with Tehran offers Beijing a geostrategic foothold in a prime location, allowing it to complete a vital segment of a BRI corridor tracing the ancient Silk Road linking Western China with the Middle East and Europe.
But it would be a mistake to assume that all will go smoothly with the China-Iran agreement. Implementation will face considerable challenges that neither country may fully appreciate. Among these are Iran’s unhappy experiences with great powers, which have left an indelible mark on the country’s collective psyche. Historical memories of the 1828 Treaty of Turkmenchay in which Iran ceded territory to Russia, the Anglo-Soviet invasion of Iran during World War II, and the U.S.-British backed overthrow of Prime Minister Mohammad Mosaddeq in 1953 run deep among Iranians. The revolutionary slogan “neither East, nor West” captured the essence of Iran’s suspicion of the designs of great powers.
Given this history, many Iranians are reflexively suspicious about the China-Iran agreement and have accused the government of selling the country’s assets on the cheap. This popular sentiment cannot be ignored. In practice, Iran may slow-roll, renegotiate, or even cancel projects agreed upon with China, especially if it manages to reestablish commercial relations with the West.
The Middle East’s fierce rivalries and active conflicts will also present challenges. Beijing certainly wants to avoid the kind of military entanglements that have bogged down Washington in the region even as it benefits from a U.S. security umbrella to advance its interests. Yet history suggests that the economic, political, and military interests of great powers are inexorably intertwined. As its economic interests in the Middle East grow, China will find it increasingly difficult to remain neutral on political and security questions in a region where the principal actors expect great powers to take their side.
This puts China in a quandary. It wants to build a strategic relationship with Iran even as it cultivates closer ties with key regional players Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and Israel. In fact, China is also negotiating comprehensive strategic partnerships with Saudi Arabia and the UAE. Yet these countries view Iran as an existential threat, and China risks alienating them if it empowers their archrival.
In 2018, China’s combined trade with Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Israel was three and half times greater than its trade with Iran ($123 billion versus $35 billion). And just days before word of the China-Iran agreement leaked, Chinese and Arab League foreign ministers adopted the Amman Declaration, with Arab states endorsing China’s central foreign policy concept of “a community with a shared future for mankind.” Such considerations may explain why Beijing has not officially confirmed that it is on the verge of an agreement with Iran.
China’s interest in sustaining good relationships with the Arab Gulf monarchies and Israel raises the intriguing question of whether it is prepared to use its prospective investments in Iran as leverage to curb Iranian policies that threaten others in the region, especially the support for Iranian proxies in Lebanon, Yemen, Iraq, and Syria. This is unlikely. China’s deep foreign-policy instinct is to stay out of regional rivalries and wherever possible to sit on the fence. But the sheer dimensions of this prospective strategic partnership with Iran may well cause the Gulf monarchies and Israel to conclude that China has now decisively tilted in the direction of their nemesis.
I observed China’s interaction with Iran as a participant in international nuclear negotiations with Tehran from 2009 to 2013. China was typically the most reticent party at the table, but it also had the ability to get Iran’s attention and affect its calculus in ways that others could not. It has even greater influence with Iran today, but failing to exercise it to moderate Tehran’s regional behavior may end up jeopardizing Beijing’s long-term economic strategy in the Middle East, which ultimately is best served by strategic stability.
That strategy aims to draw the region into China’s economic orbit and to secure reliable sources of oil. It relies on the BRI model of infrastructure investment and economic development, which includes a heavy emphasis on the construction of ports and railways to promote economic connectivity. China’s conviction appears to be that refocusing the Middle East’s attention toward economic development will have a transformative effect.
As the world’s largest oil importer since 2017, China is increasingly dependent on Middle Eastern energy. Last year, Saudi Arabia became China’s top supplier of oil. And three Middle Eastern countries—Iraq, the UAE, and Iran—are also among the largest suppliers.
Oil dependence brings with it exposure to the region’s political volatility. A vivid example of this axiom is a suspected Iranian attack last September against the Abqaiq and Khurais oil processing facilities in Saudi Arabia which temporarily took 5 percent of global oil production offline and caused oil prices to spike by 15 percent.
China’s conviction appears to be that refocusing the Middle East’s attention toward economic development will have a transformative effect in lowering tensions that have become an endemic feature of the region. But advancing connectivity across a disjointed landscape will be no easy feat. What China sees as a win-win may be interpreted by countries in the region as playing both sides.
Thus far, Beijing has managed to enjoy positive and growing ties with the Gulf monarchies, Israel, and Iran. Each of them see tremendous value in Chinese investment and know-how. But the region’s reaction to the massive scope of investments in the potential China-Iran agreement may force China to either scale back its planned engagement with Iran or enter unchartered waters and use traditional statecraft to more actively address Gulf Arab and Israeli concerns with Iranian policies. It will be reluctant to acknowledge that it faces such a choice, but the harsh realities of the Middle East may soon make that clear.


foreignpolicy--2020-08-17--Lukashenko’s Fall Is Happening Hard and Fast

“ He ’ s finished !
No one can come back from this.
” After a week of protests following the Aug. 9 presidential election , Belarusians are starting to believe that Aleksandr Lukashenko may finally be out of luck .
The messages to me have been coming thick and fast all week—via encrypted messaging apps such as Signal , just in case .
Lukashenko had claimed victory against his challenger , Svetlana Tikhanovskaya , a schoolteacher and the wife of a former presidential candidate , in a vote many Belarusians—and the democratic world—deem fraudulent .
On Sunday , tens @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Minsk , demanding Lukashenko resign .
For his part , an increasingly desperate Lukashenko held his own sparsely attended rally .
What unfolded was just surreal .
“ Do you want freedom ?
” he roared .
“ No !
” answered a crowd of several hundred .
“ Do you want change ?
” “ No !
” “ Do you want reforms ?
” “ No !
” Dictatorships are often absurd , but they usually also impose fear .
When only the absurdity remains it ’ s a sign of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hatred , but they wilt under mockery .
On Monday morning , Lukashenko could only scowl and sulk as he was roundly booed by workers he was addressing at a Minsk tractor factory .
Until recently , his grasp on what was so often called the “ last dictatorship in Europe ” seemed complete .
He seemed impregnable .
What happened ?
Two years ago , I went to Minsk to meet with dissidents battling the state .
In the city center near the main thoroughfare , Praspiekt Niezalieznasci ( Independence Avenue ) @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the country ’ s KGB—a title the intelligence agency retained after the end of the Soviet Union—we met in cafes and discussed the possibility of change .
The dissidents were sanguine but wary .
“ Lukashenko has everything locked down , it will be tough , ” I was told .
But they were also clear where the hope lay : “ In this country you can do a lot if you keep out of politics .
We see everything ; our youth watches the West and wants the freedoms you have.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Belarusians went to the polls for the fifth time since Lukashenko took power in 1994 .
Previous elections had seen Lukashenko wrap things up without much difficulty .
But Tikhanovskaya promised something genuinely different and , critically , after 26 years Belarusians had simply had enough , In the weeks leading up to the vote , Tikhanovskaya seemed unstoppable .
But soon after voting closed , an exit poll declared that Lukashenko had won with over 80 percent of the vote .
Tikhanovskaya had , apparently , received just over 10 percent @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fraud that really did the president in .
If he claimed a 55 percent to 45 percent win , it ’ s possible things might have been different .
But Lukashenko has only one constituency : his security services .
And they respect only one thing : strength .
He couldn ’ t allow the facade to crack , even slightly .
“ It was a sham , and everyone knew it , ” said Inna , a 35-year-old CEO , using her first name only for protection , when I spoke to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had originally been appointed as an independent election observer .
By rights , she should have been allowed into the local school where votes for her district were being cast to supervise the count , but the authorities wouldn ’ t let her in .
“ It was frustrating , ” she told me , “ but we could stand outside and count the people who went in to vote .
We saw who was coming in—and many told us that they were voting for Tikhanovskaya.
” And there were those who said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the opposition .
“ Adding them all together we calculated that at least 45 percent of those coming in voted for Tikhanovskaya—and many more probably did who said or displayed nothing .
But the result was 70 percent for Lukashenko .
This was clearly false—I saw it with my own eyes.
” She continued : “ It was so obvious that he lost .
This happened everywhere .
There are thousands of witnesses like me.
” And so the people went onto the streets .
Belarusians united together against the government in ways @ @ @ @ @ @ @ government fought back .
And the violence began .
Nikita is 24 years old .
Over the messaging app Viber , he described himself as a normal person working six days per week to make ends meet .
Like almost everyone I spoke to this past week , he said he wasn ’ t politically active until the election .
But Tikhanovskaya caught his imagination : She was young and charismatic , and she articulated a yearning for change like no other candidate before .
Nikita saw a chance for change .
He @ @ @ @ @ @ @ went out to vote .
They hoped .
They held their breath .
When the result came , it defied belief—it was outrageous , Nikita thought .
On the evening of Aug. 9 , along with thousands of others , he went onto the streets to protest .
For two nights he braved the flash grenades and rubber bullets .
“ They were trying to overwhelm the protests , ” he told me .
“ It was naked aggression against civil society .
They wanted to crush us.
” On the third night @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Kuntsevskaya station in central Minsk when a group of OMON officers , members of the loathed and brutal special police , bundled him into one of their huge trucks .
They proceeded to beat him , he said , until they arrived at the detention center on Okrestina Street .
Once inside , he and around 60 other detainees were forced to kneel while they were beaten with batons for 30 minutes .
Nikita endured subsequent imprisonment and a kangaroo court , and was sentenced to 12 nights in prison .
As it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ over a day later from another prison in the city of Brest , where he had been brought .
As he left the building , he saw the crowds gathered outside of volunteers—fellow Belarusians who had taken to gathering outside the detention centers with food , drink , and blankets for those being released .
They clapped and called the detainees heroes .
Nikita said he went from hell into heaven .
“ This showed the solidarity of Belarusian society , ” he told me .
“ It ’ s when I knew @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are no limits to what we can achieve !
” One week on , Belarusians I speak to are feeling almost uniformly positive .
Almost all are sure they will be victorious .
Once people like Nikita started emerging from detention with torture scars to show the world , the public hardened : Over 6,700 people had been arrested .
Some remained missing .
Lukashenko had to go .
But caution is needed .
Almost six years ago , I covered the aftermath of Ukraine ’ s Maidan Revolution and witnessed , firsthand @ @ @ @ @ @ @ country that had deposed a pro-Moscow leader .
The Kremlin watches its backyard closely .
The Russian state has many republics with their own separatist aspirations .
First Kyiv , then Minsk ?
Chechens and Dagestanis might start getting ideas .
But Belarus is not Ukraine .
There , Moscow had built up a nexus of proxy parties , officials , oligarchs , and media .
When Russian President Vladimir Putin took Crimea and rolled into eastern Ukraine , he had a pro-Russian network upon which he could rely .
He could also @ @ @ @ @ @ @ through Ukraine and that simply do not exist in Belarus .
Franak Viacorka , a longtime Belarusian dissident , said any Russian invasion would be problematic .
“ There would be a lot of resistance , ” he told me .
“ There is no support for a purely Russian future .
Lukashenko understood this and slowed down the process of Russian integration .
We don ’ t want it.
” But the situation remains fraught .
Lukashenko ’ s forces threatened Tikhanovskaya into fleeing to Lithuania , where she continues to manage—at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ indeed close to falling , then a power vacuum is about to appear .
Viacorka believes that unless it is seized it will be taken by Russia—which can of course influence politics without a military invasion—or violent radical forces within the elite , most likely law enforcement .
Tikhanovskaya ’ s movement has the momentum , but she is not a politician .
She has pledged only to act as an interim leader to oversee new , fair elections , and she remains abroad .
Lukashenko may be fading , but Tikhanovskaya is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
This has created a dangerous political stasis that will only be resolved when either the movement can organize new elections or Russia steps in .
“ This situation can last for weeks or months , ” Viacorka said .
“ But the more time that passes , the easier it will be for Russia to take control , and that is a situation nobody wants .
”

“He’s finished! No one can come back from this.” After a week of protests following the Aug. 9 presidential election, Belarusians are starting to believe that Aleksandr Lukashenko may finally be out of luck. The messages to me have been coming thick and fast all week—via encrypted messaging apps such as Signal, just in case. Lukashenko had claimed victory against his challenger, Svetlana Tikhanovskaya, a schoolteacher and the wife of a former presidential candidate, in a vote many Belarusians—and the democratic world— deem fraudulent .
“He’s finished! No one can come back from this.” After a week of protests following the Aug. 9 presidential election, Belarusians are starting to believe that Aleksandr Lukashenko may finally be out of luck. The messages to me have been coming thick and fast all week—via encrypted messaging apps such as Signal, just in case. Lukashenko had claimed victory against his challenger, Svetlana Tikhanovskaya, a schoolteacher and the wife of a former presidential candidate, in a vote many Belarusians—and the democratic world—deem fraudulent.
On Sunday, tens of thousands of protesters gathered in central Minsk, demanding Lukashenko resign. For his part, an increasingly desperate Lukashenko held his own sparsely attended rally. What unfolded was just surreal. “Do you want freedom?” he roared. “No!” answered a crowd of several hundred. “Do you want change?” “No!” “Do you want reforms?” “No!”
Dictatorships are often absurd, but they usually also impose fear. When only the absurdity remains it’s a sign of the end. Dictators are emboldened by hatred, but they wilt under mockery. On Monday morning, Lukashenko could only scowl and sulk as he was roundly booed by workers he was addressing at a Minsk tractor factory. Until recently, his grasp on what was so often called the “last dictatorship in Europe” seemed complete. He seemed impregnable. What happened?
Two years ago, I went to Minsk to meet with dissidents battling the state. In the city center near the main thoroughfare, Praspiekt Niezalieznasci (Independence Avenue), ever vigilant to the threat of the country’s KGB—a title the intelligence agency retained after the end of the Soviet Union—we met in cafes and discussed the possibility of change. The dissidents were sanguine but wary. “Lukashenko has everything locked down, it will be tough,” I was told. But they were also clear where the hope lay: “In this country you can do a lot if you keep out of politics. We see everything; our youth watches the West and wants the freedoms you have.”
History moves fast. On Aug. 9, Belarusians went to the polls for the fifth time since Lukashenko took power in 1994. Previous elections had seen Lukashenko wrap things up without much difficulty. But Tikhanovskaya promised something genuinely different and, critically, after 26 years Belarusians had simply had enough, In the weeks leading up to the vote, Tikhanovskaya seemed unstoppable. But soon after voting closed, an exit poll declared that Lukashenko had won with over 80 percent of the vote. Tikhanovskaya had, apparently, received just over 10 percent.
It was the transparency of the fraud that really did the president in. If he claimed a 55 percent to 45 percent win, it’s possible things might have been different. But Lukashenko has only one constituency: his security services. And they respect only one thing: strength. He couldn’t allow the facade to crack, even slightly.
“It was a sham, and everyone knew it,” said Inna, a 35-year-old CEO, using her first name only for protection, when I spoke to her over WhatsApp on Saturday. She had originally been appointed as an independent election observer. By rights, she should have been allowed into the local school where votes for her district were being cast to supervise the count, but the authorities wouldn’t let her in.
“It was frustrating,” she told me, “but we could stand outside and count the people who went in to vote. We saw who was coming in—and many told us that they were voting for Tikhanovskaya.” And there were those who said nothing but wore the white bracelet of the opposition. “Adding them all together we calculated that at least 45 percent of those coming in voted for Tikhanovskaya—and many more probably did who said or displayed nothing. But the result was 70 percent for Lukashenko. This was clearly false—I saw it with my own eyes.”
She continued: “It was so obvious that he lost. This happened everywhere. There are thousands of witnesses like me.”
And so the people went onto the streets. Belarusians united together against the government in ways they never had before. And the government fought back. And the violence began.
Nikita is 24 years old. Over the messaging app Viber, he described himself as a normal person working six days per week to make ends meet. Like almost everyone I spoke to this past week, he said he wasn’t politically active until the election. But Tikhanovskaya caught his imagination: She was young and charismatic, and she articulated a yearning for change like no other candidate before. Nikita saw a chance for change. He, like millions of fellow Belarusians, went out to vote. They hoped. They held their breath.
When the result came, it defied belief—it was outrageous, Nikita thought. On the evening of Aug. 9, along with thousands of others, he went onto the streets to protest. For two nights he braved the flash grenades and rubber bullets. “They were trying to overwhelm the protests,” he told me. “It was naked aggression against civil society. They wanted to crush us.”
On the third night, Aug. 11. he was walking toward Kuntsevskaya station in central Minsk when a group of OMON officers, members of the loathed and brutal special police, bundled him into one of their huge trucks. They proceeded to beat him, he said, until they arrived at the detention center on Okrestina Street. Once inside, he and around 60 other detainees were forced to kneel while they were beaten with batons for 30 minutes.
Nikita endured subsequent imprisonment and a kangaroo court, and was sentenced to 12 nights in prison. As it turned out, he was released just over a day later from another prison in the city of Brest, where he had been brought. As he left the building, he saw the crowds gathered outside of volunteers—fellow Belarusians who had taken to gathering outside the detention centers with food, drink, and blankets for those being released. They clapped and called the detainees heroes. Nikita said he went from hell into heaven. “This showed the solidarity of Belarusian society,” he told me. “It’s when I knew we were going to win. There are no limits to what we can achieve!”
One week on, Belarusians I speak to are feeling almost uniformly positive. Almost all are sure they will be victorious. Once people like Nikita started emerging from detention with torture scars to show the world, the public hardened: Over 6,700 people had been arrested. Some remained missing. Lukashenko had to go.
But caution is needed. Almost six years ago, I covered the aftermath of Ukraine’s Maidan Revolution and witnessed, firsthand, Russia roll its forces into a country that had deposed a pro-Moscow leader. The Kremlin watches its backyard closely. The Russian state has many republics with their own separatist aspirations. First Kyiv, then Minsk? Chechens and Dagestanis might start getting ideas.
But Belarus is not Ukraine. There, Moscow had built up a nexus of proxy parties, officials, oligarchs, and media. When Russian President Vladimir Putin took Crimea and rolled into eastern Ukraine, he had a pro-Russian network upon which he could rely. He could also the exploit the ethnic divisions that cut through Ukraine and that simply do not exist in Belarus. Franak Viacorka, a longtime Belarusian dissident, said any Russian invasion would be problematic. “There would be a lot of resistance,” he told me. “There is no support for a purely Russian future. Lukashenko understood this and slowed down the process of Russian integration. We don’t want it.”
But the situation remains fraught. Lukashenko’s forces threatened Tikhanovskaya into fleeing to Lithuania, where she continues to manage—at least verbally—the revolution. If Lukashenko is indeed close to falling, then a power vacuum is about to appear. Viacorka believes that unless it is seized it will be taken by Russia—which can of course influence politics without a military invasion—or violent radical forces within the elite, most likely law enforcement.
Tikhanovskaya’s movement has the momentum, but she is not a politician. She has pledged only to act as an interim leader to oversee new, fair elections, and she remains abroad. Lukashenko may be fading, but Tikhanovskaya is not yet strong enough to take control. This has created a dangerous political stasis that will only be resolved when either the movement can organize new elections or Russia steps in. “This situation can last for weeks or months,” Viacorka said. “But the more time that passes, the easier it will be for Russia to take control, and that is a situation nobody wants.”