vox--2020-08-10--The TikTok drama shines a spotlight on the rare tech investor who is backing Trump

The ultimate fate of TikTok could be shaped in part by the efforts of one billionaire tech investor who has earned the distinction of being a particularly rare type of Silicon Valley unicorn : a major donor to Donald Trump .
ByteDance , the Chinese parent company of the hit video sharing app , is in a boxing match with the Trump administration , which has threatened to ban it from the United States next month .
But TikTok has an investor who looms large in the drama because of his personal ties and access to the White House .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ of one of Silicon Valley ’ s most celebrated firms , Sequoia Capital , and his wife together have given about $ 400,000 over the last two years to Trump ’ s campaign and affiliated groups such as the Republican National Committee and a pro-Trump super PAC .
That makes the Leones two of the very biggest donors to Trump in Silicon Valley , where business leaders have almost entirely run away from publicly backing the President .
Now , the links between Leone and Trump may shape the ending of one of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of 2020 .
Leone has told “ people he could use his influence with Trump to help the company , ” the Washington Post reported this weekend .
Leone planned to reach out to Steven Mnuchin and Jared Kushner , two top Trump aides who have both been integral to Trump fundraising efforts , “ to see what it would take to save TikTok , ” the Wall Street Journal added .
The stories show how cultivating ties with the White House can pay dividends , even if the donations were not born @ @ @ @ @ @ @ declined to comment .
Trump ’ s campaign didn ’ t return a request for comment .
TikTok and Microsoft — the company that is seeking to purchase it and circumvent a threatened ban of the app — both have built-out Washington operations with professionals that twist arms for a living .
After all , Microsoft CEO Satya Nadella spoke with Trump directly about the potential deal .
But one hallmark of Trump ’ s Washington has been that convincing the administration to take a certain action can be a highly irregular process @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to Trump advisers , both formal and informal .
Plus , Trump has displayed a well-documented obsession with whether someone has shown loyalty to his “ team ” or not .
Leone , a longtime Republican , reportedly has that access .
And while Trump might not know Leone well enough to pick him out of a lineup , suffice it to say that not every Silicon Valley venture capitalist can jawbone the Secretary of the Treasury or the president ’ s son-in-law to help a portfolio company .
It ’ s still @ @ @ @ @ @ @ actually accomplished anything .
And there ’ s no evidence that Leone only gets an audience because of a few hundred thousand bucks in donations .
To be sure , Sequoia ’ s global managing partner is a prominent business leader in his own right .
Precisely why someone gets a call returned — Is it the donations ?
His stature ?
A little bit of both ?
— is impossible to know .
Leone is an exception in tech .
The liberal tech industry has been fighting with Trump since his first @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fact , Leone ’ s co-leader at Sequoia for a long time , Michael Moritz , this cycle has given millions to boost Democrats .
Silicon Valley has made supporting Trump something of a scarlet letter , so much so that even the few leaders who do back him now feel pressure to do so quietly .
That ’ s what makes Leone ’ s public donations unusual , especially in the image-conscious world of venture capital .
When Recode wrote last year about the Leones ’ gifts to Trump — then measuring @ @ @ @ @ @ @ voices in tech spoke to the liability that the donations could pose to Sequoia , even though it is generally regarded as the highest-performing investing firm in Silicon Valley .
Swati Mylavarapu , a former venture capitalist who is now a top Silicon Valley Democratic fundraiser , put it this way on Sunday : That liability remains very real .
But what the news over the weekend makes clear is that there is an upside — less-obvious , to be sure — that complements it .
One of Sequoia ’ s most lucrative @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s stake said to be worth as much as $ 15 billion .
And while the gifts from Leone have been made in a personal capacity and officially have nothing to do with Sequoia , his firm could benefit from the personal donations if they help maintain the value of TikTok .
The few other Silicon Valley marquee names who have supported Trump have reaped some rewards .
Peter Thiel , who braved significant blowback to give over $ 1 million to boost Trump during his 2016 run , has stocked the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Larry Ellison , who hosted a fundraiser that brought $ 7 million to Trump ’ s coffers earlier this year , has pressed Trump to publicly push hydroxychloroquine , an experimental drug treatment for the coronavirus that Ellison favors .
Leone is a much lower-profile billionaire than those two titans .
Some Trump fundraisers outside of Silicon Valley say they haven ’ t even heard of him .
But with this much money on the line — and this much international intrigue at play — having him on TikTok ’ s side @ @ @ @

The ultimate fate of TikTok could be shaped in part by the efforts of one billionaire tech investor who has earned the distinction of being a particularly rare type of Silicon Valley unicorn: a major donor to Donald Trump.
ByteDance, the Chinese parent company of the hit video sharing app, is in a boxing match with the Trump administration, which has threatened to ban it from the United States next month. But TikTok has an investor who looms large in the drama because of his personal ties and access to the White House.
Doug Leone, one of the leaders of one of Silicon Valley’s most celebrated firms, Sequoia Capital, and his wife together have given about $400,000 over the past two years to Trump’s campaign and affiliated groups such as the Republican National Committee and a pro-Trump super PAC. That makes the Leones two of the very biggest donors to Trump in Silicon Valley, where business leaders have almost entirely run away from publicly backing the president.
Now the links between Leone and Trump may shape the ending of one of the most complex business and geopolitical stories of 2020. Leone has told “people he could use his influence with Trump to help the company,” the Washington Post reported this weekend. Leone planned to reach out to Steven Mnuchin and Jared Kushner, two top Trump aides who have both been integral to Trump fundraising efforts, “to see what it would take to save TikTok,” the Wall Street Journal added.
The stories show how cultivating ties with the White House can pay dividends, even if the donations were not born from a premeditated lobbying push.
Leone declined to comment. Trump’s campaign didn’t return a request for comment.
TikTok and Microsoft — the company that is seeking to purchase it and circumvent a threatened ban of the app — both have built-out Washington operations with professionals that twist arms for a living. After all, Microsoft CEO Satya Nadella spoke with Trump directly about the potential deal. But one hallmark of Trump’s Washington has been that convincing the administration to take a certain action can be a highly irregular process, driven by personal relationships and access to Trump advisers, both formal and informal. Plus, Trump has displayed a well-documented obsession with whether someone has shown loyalty to his “team” or not.
Leone, a longtime Republican, reportedly has that access. And while Trump might not know Leone well enough to pick him out of a lineup, suffice it to say that not every Silicon Valley venture capitalist can jawbone the secretary of the Treasury or the president’s son-in-law to help a portfolio company.
It’s still unclear whether Leone’s outreach has actually accomplished anything. And there’s no evidence that Leone only gets an audience because of a few hundred thousand bucks in donations. To be sure, Sequoia’s global managing partner is a prominent business leader in his own right. Precisely why someone gets a call returned — Is it the donations? His stature? A little bit of both? — is impossible to know.
Leone is an exception in tech. The liberal tech industry has been fighting with Trump since his first day on issues like immigration. In fact, Leone’s co-leader at Sequoia for a long time, Michael Moritz, this cycle has given millions to boost Democrats. Silicon Valley has made supporting Trump something of a scarlet letter, so much so that even the few leaders who do back him now feel pressure to do so quietly. That’s what makes Leone’s public donations unusual, especially in the image-conscious world of venture capital.
When Recode wrote last year about the Leones’ gifts to Trump — then measuring only about $100,000 — some leading voices in tech spoke to the liability that the donations could pose to Sequoia, even though it is generally regarded as the highest-performing investing firm in Silicon Valley.
Swati Mylavarapu, a former venture capitalist who is now a top Silicon Valley Democratic fundraiser, put it this way on Sunday:
Hi every entrepreneur who wants to raise money from Sequoia.
You get to make a choice.
Do your investors reflect your and your company's values? https://t.co/0POQLyx6oV — Swati Mylavarapu (@Swatipedia) August 10, 2020
That liability remains very real. But what the news over the weekend makes clear is that there is an upside — less obvious, to be sure — that complements it. One of Sequoia’s most lucrative investments is in ByteDance, with Sequoia’s stake said to be worth as much as $15 billion. And while the gifts from Leone have been made in a personal capacity and officially have nothing to do with Sequoia, his firm could benefit from the personal donations if they help maintain the value of TikTok.
The few other Silicon Valley marquee names who have supported Trump have reaped some rewards. Peter Thiel, who braved significant blowback to give over $1 million to boost Trump during his 2016 run, has stocked the administration with his allies and former aides. Larry Ellison, who hosted a fundraiser that brought $7 million to Trump’s coffers earlier this year, has pressed Trump to publicly push hydroxychloroquine, an experimental drug treatment for the coronavirus that Ellison favors.
Leone is a much lower-profile billionaire than those two titans. Some Trump fundraisers outside of Silicon Valley say they haven’t even heard of him.
But with this much money on the line — and this much international intrigue at play — having him on TikTok’s side can only help.
Will you become our 20,000th supporter? When the economy took a downturn in the spring and we started asking readers for financial contributions, we weren’t sure how it would go. Today, we’re humbled to say that nearly 20,000 people have chipped in. The reason is both lovely and surprising: Readers told us that they contribute both because they value explanation and because they value that other people can access it, too. We have always believed that explanatory journalism is vital for a functioning democracy. That’s never been more important than today, during a public health crisis, racial justice protests, a recession, and a presidential election. But our distinctive explanatory journalism is expensive, and advertising alone won’t let us keep creating it at the quality and volume this moment requires. Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation, but it will help keep Vox free for all. Contribute today from as little as $3.


vox--2020-08-10--China just arrested a top Hong Kong pro-democracy figure. Beijing isn’t playing around.

Hong Kong authorities arrested a prominent pro-democracy media mogul on Monday , another sign that the sweeping national security law imposed by China last month is stifling the territory ’ s freedoms .
Jimmy Lai was detained Monday over allegations of colluding with foreign powers .
Lai is the found and owner of Next Digital , which publishes Apple Daily , a Hong Kong publication that has backed the pro-democracy protests .
Lai himself has been outspoken in his support for the pro-democracy camp and has been arrested before for allegedly participating in an unauthorized pro-democracy protest .
Two of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Monday , along with Cheung Kim-hung , Next Digital ’ s CEO .
Agnes Chow , a high-profile leader in Hong Kong ’ s democracy movement , was also detained .
In total , Hong Kong authorities said at least 10 people , ages 23 to 72 , were arrested on national-security and other charges , including advocating for foreign sanctions .
Lai is one of the most notable figures arrested under the new national security law that went into effect July 1 .
The law gives China broad powers to crack down @ @ @ @ @ @ @ crimes of “ secession , subversion , organization and perpetration of terrorist activities , and collusion with a foreign country or with external elements.
” It also carries harsh penalties , including the potential for life imprisonment .
Lai ’ s detainment has chilling implications for press freedom in Hong Kong .
More than 200 police raided Apple Daily ’ s office , an operation that took nine hours , according to the South China Morning Post .
Apple Daily reporters livestreamed the raid , showing police officers rummaging through papers on reporters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to the offices during the raid , escorting him through the offices as police searched .
According to the Washington Post , authorities carted away 25 boxes worth of material .
In a thread posted on Twitter , Apple Daily accused police of ignoring the terms of the search warrant “ and rifled through news materials , as well as restricting press members from reporting and obstructing a news organization from operating.
” “ Beijing ’ s national security law for Hong Kong claims to guarantee residents ’ freedom of speech , of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the authorities ’ actions have proved otherwise , ” the statement continued .
“ Raiding a news institution is a severe attack on press freedom and should not be tolerated in a civilized society.
” Apple Daily described Hong Kong ’ s press freedom as “ hanging by thread , ” though it vowed to fight on .
“ The arrest of Jimmy Lai and Agnes Chow ( one of the student activist leaders ) is the largest affront yet to violations of freedom of speech and press in Hong Kong , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of political science at the University of Toronto told me in an email .
“ It will have a huge chilling effect on the Hong Kong community , ” Ong added , “ which is exactly what Beijing is trying to achieve with the [ national security law ] .
” China ’ s crackdown under the national security law has been “ unusually fast and unusually slow ” When Britain handed Hong Kong over to China in 1997 , it was with the promise that Beijing would honor Hong Kong ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the rule known as “ one country , two systems.
” China , though , had for years chipped and chipped away at Hong Kong ’ s freedoms .
Now , the national security law has rapidly and dramatically accelerated the erosion of Hong Kong ’ s autonomy .
When it went into effect in July , Victoria Tin-bor Hui , a political science professor at Notre Dame University , called it the “ complete and total control of Hong Kong and total destruction of Hong Kong ’ s system.
” The national @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out in the open , which is targeting what the Chinese Communist Party sees as the opposition — and sending a very clear message to everyone else who might back them .
Samuel Chu , a US-based activist and managing director of the Hong Kong Democracy Council , told me that this is part of China ’ s steady drumbeat to crack down on activists , both at home and overseas .
Chu himself has been targeted for arrest under the new national security law .
( The law is so expansive that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ overseas could potentially face arrest if they ever return to Hong Kong or mainland China . )
Demonstrators allegedly advocating for Hong Kong ’ s independence were arrested on the first day the law went into effect ; since then , student activists — who were between the ages of 16 and 21 — were charged for engaging in secessionist activities .
Hong Kong ’ s government has also postponed September ’ s Legislative Council elections , and though officials cited the coronavirus , the government had already taken steps to bar pro-democracy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ also put out those arrest warrants for Hong Kongers who ’ ve left the city , including Chu , a US citizen , and Nathan Law , another prominent activist and former lawmaker .
The arrest of Lai and others is the latest example of China ’ s crackdown .
“ I have no doubt that this is all orchestrated as a way of demonstrating the complete control they want to have in Hong Kong , ” Chu said .
“ They ’ re systematically pointing out , we ’ re not going @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from anyone.
” Chinese state media had branded Lai as prominent pro-democracy advocate , and both he and activists such as Chow had been targeted before for their outspokenness .
In May , Lai wrote an op-ed in the New York Times as China unveiled its plan to implement this new national security law .
“ I have always thought I might one day be sent to jail for my publications or for my calls for democracy in Hong Kong , ” he said .
Allen Carlson , an associate professor at Cornell @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Chinese saying , “ killing the chicken to scare the monkey.
” In other words , Beijing is punishing a few high-profile individuals to set an example for everyone else .
“ The detention of Jimmy Lai and Agnes Chow are good examples of this idiom being put into place , ” Carlson said , adding that it “ can have a chilling effect on Hong Kong society.
” Experts , activists , and Hongkongers feared exactly this .
Beyond the hardcore protesters and activists , supporters of the pro-democracy movement might @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to do so publicly now that their families and their livelihoods at stake .
Activists and journalists previously deleted social media posts , essentially self-censoring themselves .
The arrest of Lai and others is China ’ s way of saying , basically , we ’ re not messing around .
Ong said that these high-profile arrests might mean “ things may go in one of the two directions : repression may slow down ( because Beijing has successfully deterred further contention ) , or it may decide to ‘ tighten the screw ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as much to do with what happens within Hong Kong as what ’ s going on in the rest of the world .
That includes , critically , the status of US-China relations , which are at a dangerous low point .
Jeffrey Wasserstrom , a professor at the University of California Irvine and author of Vigil : Hong Kong on the Brink , described the blows to Hong Kong ’ s press freedoms and civil society as both “ unusually fast and unusually slow.
” Within Hong Kong , the pace has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , these events are happening somewhat piecemeal — arrest warrants for foreign activists one week , canceling the Legislative Council elections a few days later , and now these mass arrests .
“ There ’ s been a spreading out of the repressive moves , ” Wasserstrom said .
On the one hand , it ’ s been blow after blow , he said .
But when it comes to international attention — particularly in the age of Covid-19 — China ’ s crackdowns looks a little bit more discrete rather than rapidly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ backdrop to all this Lai ’ s arrest also came after the United States placed sanctions on 11 officials involved in the democratic crackdown in Hong Kong , including Hong Kong ’ s pro-Beijing Chief Executive Carrie Lam and the territory ’ s police chief .
This was a serious escalation , and though Chinese officials mocked the penalties , they retaliated by placing sanctions on US individuals , including some Republican lawmakers .
Also on Monday , US Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar visited Taiwan , the highest-level US official @ @ @ @ @ @ @ visit was ostensibly about Taiwan ’ s success in handling the coronavirus , such a trip is highly provocative to Beijing , which wants to bring Taiwan back under its control and sees any recognition of it as a violation of its “ one China ” policy .
“ I think both sides are sort of intentionally poking the dragon and poking the eagle in order to see how far they can go — and also to bolster domestic credentials , ” Carlson said .
The Trump administration has blamed China for its @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a tough-on-China approach in part to distract from its own failures to deal with the pandemic .
And Chinese President Xi Jinping is pushing to bring Hong Kong closer under its control , one of his core interests .
That leaves Hong Kong , much like Xinjiang , caught in the middle of a superpower struggle as the territory ’ s freedoms unravel .
“ Altogether , this portends poorly for the future , ” Carlson said .
“ We ’ re likely to see more arrests in Hong Kong , further crackdowns @ @ @ @ @ @ @ — the US does , but not really in a credible manner.
” Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ will not constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
Please consider making a contribution to Vox today .

Hong Kong authorities arrested a prominent pro-democracy media mogul on Monday, another sign that the sweeping national security law imposed by China last month is stifling the territory’s freedoms.
Jimmy Lai was detained Monday over allegations of colluding with foreign powers. Lai is the found and owner of Next Digital, which publishes Apple Daily, a Hong Kong publication that has backed the pro-democracy protests. Lai himself has been outspoken in his support for the pro-democracy camp and has been arrested before for allegedly participating in an unauthorized pro-democracy protest.
Two of Lai’s sons were also arrested Monday, along with Cheung Kim-hung, Next Digital’s CEO. Agnes Chow, a high-profile leader in Hong Kong’s democracy movement, was also detained. In total, Hong Kong authorities said at least 10 people, ages 23 to 72, were arrested on national-security and other charges, including advocating for foreign sanctions.
Lai is one of the most notable figures arrested under the new national security law that went into effect July 1. The law gives China broad powers to crack down on dissent, which includes loosely defined crimes of “secession, subversion, organization and perpetration of terrorist activities, and collusion with a foreign country or with external elements.” It also carries harsh penalties, including the potential for life imprisonment.
Lai’s detainment has chilling implications for press freedom in Hong Kong. More than 200 police raided Apple Daily’s office, an operation that took nine hours, according to the South China Morning Post.
Close to 200 police from the national security division as well as police in military uniforms were at the scene. Again, this is the office of a media organization rather than the scene of a terrorist attack. pic.twitter.com/8IQE4PRWZk — William Yang (@WilliamYang120) August 10, 2020
After @appledaily_hk founder @JimmyLaiApple's arrest, over 200 PTU raided Apple Daily office without warrant. This is an unprecedented move. Deploying such disproportional amount of policemen to raid the office of a newspaper is a clear signal that HKSAR is oppressing free press pic.twitter.com/NWKHpna52L — Fight For Freedom. Stand With Hong Kong. (@Stand_with_HK) August 10, 2020
Apple Daily reporters livestreamed the raid, showing police officers rummaging through papers on reporters’ desks. Chinese authorities brought Lai to the offices during the raid, escorting him through the offices as police searched. According to the Washington Post, authorities carted away 25 boxes worth of material.
Officers just casually poking through documents on desks, tho reporter on livestream repeats search warrant not yet served. @appledaily_hk employee asked officers what their search area was; no answer. Apple Daily lawyer yet to arrive & may not be able to enter cordoned-off bldg pic.twitter.com/RXoDTpEfdz — Mary Hui (@maryhui) August 10, 2020
In a thread posted on Twitter, Apple Daily accused police of ignoring the terms of the search warrant “and rifled through news materials, as well as restricting press members from reporting and obstructing a news organization from operating.”
“Beijing’s national security law for Hong Kong claims to guarantee residents’ freedom of speech, of the press and of publication, but the authorities’ actions have proved otherwise,” the statement continued. “Raiding a news institution is a severe attack on press freedom and should not be tolerated in a civilized society.”
Apple Daily described Hong Kong’s press freedom as “hanging by thread,” though it vowed to fight on.
“The arrest of Jimmy Lai and Agnes Chow (one of the student activist leaders) is the largest affront yet to violations of freedom of speech and press in Hong Kong,” Lynette H. Ong, an associate professor of political science at the University of Toronto told me in an email.
“It will have a huge chilling effect on the Hong Kong community,” Ong added, “which is exactly what Beijing is trying to achieve with the [national security law].”
China’s crackdown under the national security law has been “unusually fast and unusually slow”
When Britain handed Hong Kong over to China in 1997, it was with the promise that Beijing would honor Hong Kong’s quasi-independence until at least 2047, under the rule known as “one country, two systems.”
China, though, had for years chipped and chipped away at Hong Kong’s freedoms. Now, the national security law has rapidly and dramatically accelerated the erosion of Hong Kong’s autonomy. When it went into effect in July, Victoria Tin-bor Hui, a political science professor at Notre Dame University, called it the “complete and total control of Hong Kong and total destruction of Hong Kong’s system.”
The national security law now means everything is happening out in the open, which is targeting what the Chinese Communist Party sees as the opposition — and sending a very clear message to everyone else who might back them.
Samuel Chu, a US-based activist and managing director of the Hong Kong Democracy Council, told me that this is part of China’s steady drumbeat to crack down on activists, both at home and overseas. Chu himself has been targeted for arrest under the new national security law. (The law is so expansive that even foreigners or those who speak out overseas could potentially face arrest if they ever return to Hong Kong or mainland China.)
Demonstrators allegedly advocating for Hong Kong’s independence were arrested on the first day the law went into effect; since then, student activists — who were between the ages of 16 and 21 — were charged for engaging in secessionist activities.
Hong Kong’s government has also postponed September’s Legislative Council elections, and though officials cited the coronavirus, the government had already taken steps to bar pro-democracy lawmakers from running. The Chinese government also put out those arrest warrants for Hong Kongers who’ve left the city, including Chu, a US citizen, and Nathan Law, another prominent activist and former lawmaker.
The arrest of Lai and others is the latest example of China’s crackdown. “I have no doubt that this is all orchestrated as a way of demonstrating the complete control they want to have in Hong Kong,” Chu said. “They’re systematically pointing out, we’re not going to tolerate any dissent from anywhere, from anyone.”
Chinese state media had branded Lai as prominent pro-democracy advocate, and both he and activists such as Chow had been targeted before for their outspokenness. In May, Lai wrote an op-ed in the New York Times as China unveiled its plan to implement this new national security law. “I have always thought I might one day be sent to jail for my publications or for my calls for democracy in Hong Kong,” he said.
Allen Carlson, an associate professor at Cornell University, said it called to mind a Chinese saying, “killing the chicken to scare the monkey.” In other words, Beijing is punishing a few high-profile individuals to set an example for everyone else. “The detention of Jimmy Lai and Agnes Chow are good examples of this idiom being put into place,” Carlson said, adding that it “can have a chilling effect on Hong Kong society.”
Experts, activists, and Hongkongers feared exactly this. Beyond the hardcore protesters and activists, supporters of the pro-democracy movement might think twice about whether they will continue to do so publicly now that their families and their livelihoods at stake. Activists and journalists previously deleted social media posts, essentially self-censoring themselves. The arrest of Lai and others is China’s way of saying, basically, we’re not messing around.
Ong said that these high-profile arrests might mean “things may go in one of the two directions: repression may slow down (because Beijing has successfully deterred further contention), or it may decide to ‘tighten the screw’ further.”
Whether that happens might have as much to do with what happens within Hong Kong as what’s going on in the rest of the world. That includes, critically, the status of US-China relations, which are at a dangerous low point.
Jeffrey Wasserstrom, a professor at the University of California Irvine and author of Vigil: Hong Kong on the Brink, described the blows to Hong Kong’s press freedoms and civil society as both “unusually fast and unusually slow.”
Within Hong Kong, the pace has been dizzying. But to the outside, these events are happening somewhat piecemeal — arrest warrants for foreign activists one week, canceling the Legislative Council elections a few days later, and now these mass arrests.
“There’s been a spreading out of the repressive moves,” Wasserstrom said. On the one hand, it’s been blow after blow, he said. But when it comes to international attention — particularly in the age of Covid-19 — China’s crackdowns looks a little bit more discrete rather than rapidly tightening control.
US-China tensions are the backdrop to all this
Lai’s arrest also came after the United States placed sanctions on 11 officials involved in the democratic crackdown in Hong Kong, including Hong Kong’s pro-Beijing Chief Executive Carrie Lam and the territory’s police chief. This was a serious escalation, and though Chinese officials mocked the penalties, they retaliated by placing sanctions on US individuals, including some Republican lawmakers.
Also on Monday, US Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar visited Taiwan, the highest-level US official to visit since 1979. Though the visit was ostensibly about Taiwan’s success in handling the coronavirus, such a trip is highly provocative to Beijing, which wants to bring Taiwan back under its control and sees any recognition of it as a violation of its “one China” policy.
“I think both sides are sort of intentionally poking the dragon and poking the eagle in order to see how far they can go — and also to bolster domestic credentials,” Carlson said. The Trump administration has blamed China for its handling of the coronavirus and is taking a tough-on-China approach in part to distract from its own failures to deal with the pandemic. And Chinese President Xi Jinping is pushing to bring Hong Kong closer under its control, one of his core interests.
That leaves Hong Kong, much like Xinjiang, caught in the middle of a superpower struggle as the territory’s freedoms unravel. “Altogether, this portends poorly for the future,” Carlson said. “We’re likely to see more arrests in Hong Kong, further crackdowns, and no one is pushing back — the US does, but not really in a credible manner.”
Will you become our 20,000th supporter? When the economy took a downturn in the spring and we started asking readers for financial contributions, we weren’t sure how it would go. Today, we’re humbled to say that nearly 20,000 people have chipped in. The reason is both lovely and surprising: Readers told us that they contribute both because they value explanation and because they value that other people can access it, too. We have always believed that explanatory journalism is vital for a functioning democracy. That’s never been more important than today, during a public health crisis, racial justice protests, a recession, and a presidential election. But our distinctive explanatory journalism is expensive, and advertising alone won’t let us keep creating it at the quality and volume this moment requires. Your financial contribution will not constitute a donation, but it will help keep Vox free for all. Contribute today from as little as $3.


vox--2020-08-10--How a homemaker with no political experience took on Europe’s longest-serving dictator

One of Europe ’ s last remaining dictators held onto power after facing his greatest political challenge in decades — and rigged an election to do so .
Alexander Lukashenko has served as Belarus ’ s president since 1994 , when he won the presidency in the country ’ s last national democratic election since gaining independence from the Soviet Union .
That ’ s because Lukashenko has remained in power ever since thanks to a combination of brutal repression and rigged elections .
He ’ s now Europe ’ s longest-serving leader .
But after 26 years , many @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Hundreds of thousands of people have rallied for weeks against him in the largest protests of the country ’ s post-Soviet history .
A government-backed poll from April found only a third of Belarusians trusted him — one of the lowest ratings of his rule .
While good polling is hard to come by in Belarus , that one made sense : The dictator both minimized and mishandled his nation ’ s coronavirus outbreak , oversaw a collapsing economy , and struggled to keep an encroaching Russia at bay .
With such dismal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would ’ ve lost a free and fair vote .
Which is why Lukashenko did everything in his power to make sure Sunday ’ s election was anything but free and fair .
And sure enough , Lukashenko won Sunday ’ s election in a landslide , receiving over 80 percent of the vote .
“ I don ’ t know who voted for him , how could he get 80 percent ?
” a Belarusian named Dmitri , who wouldn ’ t divulge his last name for security reasons , told the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ victory ” came down to a tried-and-true autocratic method : brutality .
“ That [ was ] the strategy for Lukashenko for this election , ” said Ryhor Astapenia , a Belarus expert at the Chatham House think tank in Britain .
“ No sweeteners , only repression.
” The 65-year-old former collective farm director jailed two of the three top opposition candidates and barred the third from running ; he also detained journalists and even alleged Russian mercenaries the regime claimed were trying to disrupt the election prior to the vote @ @ @ @ @ @ @ quell people ’ s aspirations for democracy .
It lit them on fire — thanks in part to the efforts of one determined stay-at-home mom .
One of Lukashenko ’ s main opponents in this year ’ s election was Sergei Tikhanovsky , a famous YouTuber who made his name highlighting Belarus ’ s many problems .
Two days after he announced his candidacy for president , he was arrested by the regime on charges of violating public order and election laws .
That might ’ ve been the end of the story @ @ @ @ @ @ @ That ’ s because his wife , a 37-year-old former English translator turned homemaker named Svetlana Tikhanovskaya , stepped in to run for president instead .
She proved wildly successful , coalescing a nationwide movement to defeat the longtime leader and then hold actually fair elections .
That she did so despite having no political experience , acknowledging she didn ’ t want to be president , and reminding crowds she ’ d prefer to be making cutlets for her children made her rise all the more surprising .
That energy persisted even @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The regime-run election commission said the challenger only received about 10 percent of the vote , far less than the 80 percent she garnered in some unbiased exit polls .
Thousands poured into the streets of Minsk , Belarus ’ s capital , on Sunday to protest the election ’ s results .
Demonstrators have been met with tear gas , stun grenades , and rubber bullets shot by regime forces , even though observers on the scene have yet to report one instance of violence by anti-Lukashenko protesters .
Reports indicate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Viasna , a Belarusian human rights group , says they know of about 140 people among thousands detained by authorities while many more sustained injuries .
The Trump administration on Monday proclaimed support for the democratic movement .
Tikhanovskaya has made clear she rejects the regime-announced results .
“ I will believe my own eyes — the majority was for us , ” she said during a Monday press conference in Minsk .
“ The authorities should think about how to peacefully hand over power to us , ” she continued .
“ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ election.
” In the meantime , the Tikhanovskaya-led opposition aims for the pressure to stay on the dictator long term , hoping to sustain a historic call for change .
Some believe it could work .
“ This is the beginning of the end of his era , ” Valiantsin Stefanovic , Viasna ’ s deputy chairman , told me .
“ This is a new reality for him , because nobody loves him anymore .
People want to be free.
” Others don ’ t believe the remarkable scenes of the past @ @ @ @ @ @ @ closer to a post-Lukashenko future .
“ There ’ s definitely something different about this now , ” said Matthew Rojansky , an expert on Eastern Europe at the Woodrow Wilson Center think tank in Washington , “ but that doesn ’ t mean this is the breakthrough moment.
” Which means , depressingly enough , Lukashenko most likely will survive the greatest threat yet to his rule — though he won ’ t come out of it completely unscathed .
How Lukashenko saw his control slip When Lukashenko became Belarus ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ percent of the vote in Belarus ’ s last fair election — he entered office with a staunch anti-corruption message .
His right-wing populism resonated with citizens seeking to improve their lives after the fall of the Soviet Union and who blamed the nation ’ s woes on its sclerotic and incompetent run by the communist-era establishment .
Lukashenko promised to save Belarus .
He would tax the rich , steer the economy in the right direction , and root out the corruption which he claimed , “ like an all-devouring octopus has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” But , over the years , Lukashenko became the exact enemy he set out to fight .
“ He moved from good governance to embracing and not denying iron-fistedness , ” said Rojansky .
Namely , he resisted needed economic reforms , stayed cozy with Russia , and cracked down on dissenters .
As Human Rights Watch noted in 2019 , “ Belarus continued to harass and pressure civil society activists and independent media , ” including denying journalists entry to official events and arresting peaceful protesters .
It ’ s also @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and killings of at least four political opponents .
For those and other reasons , opposition figures boycotted or rarely entered recent elections to dethrone the autocrat .
Despite all that , Lukashenko maintained a semblance of popularity because the economy didn ’ t nosedive on his watch .
That minimal success had less to do with Lukashenko ’ s management , though , and more to do with loans coming in from Russia to keep the country afloat and secure its fealty to Moscow .
As of last summer , Belarus owed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tensions between the two countries .
In an effort to signal his independence and that he hadn ’ t mismanaged the economy , Lukashenko said his country would give Russia $ 1 billion per year until the debt was repaid .
Further , Belarus would no longer request more funds .
“ Stop yelling that you are providing for us , ” he said in a speech last year , clearly directing his comments at the Kremlin .
Such bravado may also have been a cover .
Russia had mostly stopped injecting cash @ @ @ @ @ @ @ get financial support from other capitals ( though Beijing did provide a $ 500 million loan last year ) .
As a result , Belarus ’ s GDP has basically been flat since 2012 , forcing thousands to seek work in nearby countries like Poland , work multiple jobs , or gain employment in the country ’ s byzantine public sector .
That has long spelled trouble for Lukashenko .
“ An authoritarian system can maintain its popularity as long as it can provide the goods for the population , ” said Eleanor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and authoritarian regimes at Manchester Metropolitan University in the UK .
“ Once that social and economic side of the bargain goes away , people start thinking : ‘ What are we getting out of this ?
’ ” That thought clearly crept up more and more as Lukashenko failed to handle his nation ’ s coronavirus crisis .
He called concerns about an outbreak a mass “ psychosis ” and claimed all it took to kill the virus was a little vodka or a quick trip to the sauna .
“ No @ @ @ @ @ @ @ coronavirus , ” he said in April , acknowledging two months later that he contracted the disease but had no symptoms .
His lack of alarm kept the regime from imposing any social restrictions or offering any help to those on the front lines of the national response .
“ The state completely withdrew without providing support for medical workers , ” Maryia Rohava , a Belarus expert at the University of Oslo in Norway , told me .
They gave no guidelines and barely provided information at all , she continued , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ their own hands .
The country has an educated and highly tech-savvy population , and they used that know-how to crowdfund support for medical professionals .
One campaign , # bycovid19 , provided around $ 130,000 and 27,000 respirators in April alone .
“ Our goal is to make sure this system doesn ’ t collapse , ” Andrej Stryzhak , the group ’ s cofounder , told the Guardian at the time .
Such a collapse was possible , as cases increased while just one mask sold on the country ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Those kinds of campaigns brought hundreds of thousands of Belarusians together online — mostly on Telegram — to both form a movement and realize together that the country was in dire straits with Lukashenko at the helm .
Any support the leader had quickly eroded .
“ We saw many people flip because of Covid-19 , poverty , and his attitude toward current problems , ” Franak Viacorka , an independent journalist in Belarus , told me .
The longstanding opposition to Lukashenko finally had its greatest opening — the dictator was weak @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lead the opposition was still taking care of her two kids at home , unaware she was about to become the most effective politician to challenge Lukashenko in decades .
How Tikhanovskaya rose to her unlikely moment Initially three men looked to take the mantle of Lukashenko ’ s top challenger .
But one by one , the dictator found a way to brush them aside before the election — a move experts said was rare because he usually waits to put down the opposition after the vote .
Victor Babariko , widely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , was barred by the regime from running .
Valery Tsepkalo , the country ’ s former ambassador to the US , also couldn ’ t register for the election and subsequently fled to Russia fearing for his life .
The third man was Sergei Tikhanovsky , the popular YouTuber and fierce Lukashenko critic , who was repeatedly arrested for trying to get in the race .
In response , Tikhanovsky in May pushed for his wife Svetlana to run in his stead , an idea experts told me gained support among thousands @ @ @ @ @ @ @ requisite 100,000 signatures which allowed her to register with regime-controlled election authorities .
Somewhat surprisingly , they approved her registration .
Experts told me Lukashenko usually allows some opposition candidates to run against him .
Doing so lets the regime keep the appearance of a fair election and also allows those with grievances to express them once in a while , hoping complaints die down soon after the vote .
That seems to have happened in this case , but the president also didn ’ t seem too threatened by Tikhanovskaya ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ no political experience at all .
In fact , she had never spoken at a political rally before .
The other was Lukashenko holds sexist , outdated views of women .
“ Society is not mature enough to vote for a woman , ” Lukashenko said in July , adding that the weight of the presidency would lead her to “ collapse , poor thing.
” But Tikhanovskaya didn ’ t collapse under pressure .
Instead , she united the opposition and brought hundreds of thousands of people into the streets in support @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s campaign manager , also a woman , backed her campaign during a July announcement that went viral after each made a sign with their hands : a heart , a fist in a fist-pump position , and a “ V ” for victory .
The moment provided immense momentum to her candidacy , as it became clear three women symbolized a youth movement against the old dictator .
“ This was a surprising and brilliant move by the opposition , ” Tatyana Margolin , the regional director for Open Society ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ They undoubtedly saw that together they [ would ] be stronger , so they joined forces rather quickly.
” But Tikhanovskaya ’ s story was compelling in its own right : To take on the role of political leader , she sent her kids away to an undisclosed location to keep them out of the regime ’ s clutches .
She also made clear that in the unlikely event she actually won , she would quickly hold free elections to let someone who actually wanted to be president to take over .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but my husband is behind bars , ” Tikhanovskaya told a large Minsk crowd in July .
“ I ’ m tired of putting up with it .
I ’ m tired of being silent .
I ’ m tired of being afraid.
” She outlined some reforms , namely her husband ’ s platform of giving more money to the poor by taking cash away from the corrupt elite .
But it ’ s what she and her female backers represented — a country without an entrenched , corrupt , dangerous @ @ @ @ @ @ @ immense support .
Ironically , it was similar to the message the dictator offered back in 1994 .
“ She ’ s trying to out-Lukashenko Lukashenko , ” the Wilson Center ’ s Rojansky told me .
That play worked , as she drew hundreds of thousands across the country — not just in cities , but even small towns that have historically been Lukashenko strongholds — into the opposition .
“ She ’ s mostly a symbol of the grievances that people are trying to express , ” said the University of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are now being expressed by many on Belarus ’ s streets .
The likelihood that they ’ ll change anything in the short term , though , is unlikely .
Lukashenko is likely to hold on to power — for now Belarus has long seen anti-Lukashenko protests like the ones on Minsk ’ s streets in recent weeks .
In 2017 , for example , the regime imposed a tax on part-time or unemployed workers , leading thousands to demonstrate against the government .
In the end , Lukashenko cracked down on that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ previous years .
Some experts I spoke to said that given enough repression and time , it ’ s likely the current movement will fizzle out despite its unprecedented size and scope .
“ The regime is durable , ” said Konstantin Ash , an expert on protests in Belarus at the University of Central Florida .
“ Lukashenko isn ’ t in a sky-is-falling situation .
He ’ s still very much in charge.
” The only way to tell his grip on power is slipping , Ash added , was if @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forces — which receive an inordinate amount of funding and authority from the autocrat — start to defect .
“ That ’ s the crucial element.
” So far that hasn ’ t happened .
Instead , security forces have arrested 3,000 people in Minsk and 2,000 others around the country .
Lukashenko has vowed to keep the pressure on protesters he called “ sheep ” under foreign control on Monday .
“ People need to settle down , calm down.
” But others are convinced Lukashenko ’ s increased repression , deadly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ democratic movement — now well-connected online — means the dictator ’ s days are numbered .
“ This is the best opportunity for this to be the beginning of the end for Lukashenko , ” Manchester Metropolitan University ’ s Bindman told me .
“ I ’ d be very surprised if he made it through another five-year term without any other troubles.
” Stefanovic , the human rights leader in Belarus , said what ’ s also changed is the nation ’ s attitudes toward female leadership .
That could sustain the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ Our society is ready to have a woman as the leader of the country , ” he told me .
“ What matters is what a leader says , not if they ’ re a woman or man.
” The wild card in all of this , though , is Russia .
Moscow wants deeper economic and political integration with Belarus , mainly in an effort to ensure it doesn ’ t lean westward and away from the Kremlin ’ s grip .
That has some worried Russian President Vladimir Putin @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Eastern European nation .
Stephen Sestanovich , a Russia expert at the Council on Foreign Relations think tank , though , isn ’ t so concerned .
“ The Russians can ’ t like their choices much , ” he said .
“ Lukashenko has been an ornery partner for years , extremely hard to subdue .
But the idea that he ’ d be brought low by a popular outpouring of opposition to dictatorship and bad management ?
From Putin ’ s point of view , that ’ s pretty awful too.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ added , it ’ s not like Belarus ’ s people are clamoring for a more Soviet-like future .
Belarus “ may look like a poor , unreformed Soviet backwater , but it ’ s been a nominally independent country now for close to 30 years , ” Sestanovich said .
“ If there ’ s a constituency for returning to the Russian fold , Putin hasn ’ t found it.
” Anti-Lukashenko activists , then , may not have to contend with the complication of a Russian invasion .
What they have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who still wields immense power — will be tough enough .
Every day at Vox , we aim to answer your most important questions and provide you , and our audience around the world , with information that has the power to save lives .
Our mission has never been more vital than it is in this moment : to empower you through understanding .
Vox ’ s work is reaching more people than ever , but our distinctive brand of explanatory journalism takes resources — particularly during a pandemic and an economic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ constitute a donation , but it will enable our staff to continue to offer free articles , videos , and podcasts at the quality and volume that this moment requires .
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One of Europe’s last remaining dictators held onto power after facing his greatest political challenge in decades — and rigged an election to do so.
Alexander Lukashenko has served as Belarus’s president since 1994, when he won the presidency in the country’s last national democratic election since gaining independence from the Soviet Union. That’s because Lukashenko has remained in power ever since thanks to a combination of brutal repression and rigged elections. He’s now Europe’s longest-serving leader.
But after 26 years, many Belarusians have had enough of Lukashenko. Hundreds of thousands of people have rallied for weeks against him in the largest protests of the country’s post-Soviet history.
A government-backed poll from April found only a third of Belarusians trusted him — one of the lowest ratings of his rule. While good polling is hard to come by in Belarus, that one made sense: The dictator both minimized and mishandled his nation’s coronavirus outbreak, oversaw a collapsing economy, and struggled to keep an encroaching Russia at bay.
With such dismal approval ratings, most experts believe Lukashenko would’ve lost a free and fair vote. Which is why Lukashenko did everything in his power to make sure Sunday’s election was anything but free and fair.
And sure enough, Lukashenko won Sunday’s election in a landslide, receiving over 80 percent of the vote. “I don’t know who voted for him, how could he get 80 percent?” a Belarusian named Dmitri, who wouldn’t divulge his last name for security reasons, told the New York Times on Sunday.
His “victory” came down to a tried-and-true autocratic method: brutality. “That [was] the strategy for Lukashenko for this election,” said Ryhor Astapenia, a Belarus expert at the Chatham House think tank in Britain. “No sweeteners, only repression.”
The 65-year-old former collective farm director jailed two of the three top opposition candidates and barred the third from running; he also detained journalists and even alleged Russian mercenaries the regime claimed were trying to disrupt the election prior to the vote.
But his tactics didn’t quell people’s aspirations for democracy. It lit them on fire thanks in part to the efforts of one determined stay-at-home mom — who just had to flee the country for the safety of her children.
The homemaker versus the dictator
One of Lukashenko’s main opponents in this year’s election was Sergei Tikhanovsky, a famous YouTuber who made his name highlighting Belarus’s many problems. Two days after he announced his candidacy for president, he was arrested by the regime on charges of violating public order and election laws.
That might’ve been the end of the story. But it wasn’t: That’s because his wife, a 37-year-old former English translator turned homemaker named Svetlana Tikhanovskaya, stepped in to run for president instead.
She proved wildly successful, coalescing a nationwide movement to defeat the longtime leader and then hold actually fair elections. That she did so despite having no political experience, acknowledging she didn’t want to be president, and reminding crowds she’d prefer to be making cutlets for her children made her rise all the more surprising.
That energy persisted even after the election results were announced Sunday. The regime-run election commission said the challenger only received about 10 percent of the vote, far less than the 80 percent she garnered in some unbiased exit polls. Thousands poured into the streets of Minsk, Belarus’s capital, on Sunday to protest the election’s results.
Demonstrators have been met with tear gas, stun grenades, and rubber bullets shot by regime forces, even though observers on the scene have yet to report one instance of violence by anti-Lukashenko protesters. Reports indicate at least one protester has died.
Viasna, a Belarusian human rights group, says they know of about 140 people among thousands detained by authorities while many more sustained injuries. The Trump administration on Monday proclaimed support for the democratic movement.
Tikhanovskaya made clear she rejected the regime-announced results. “I will believe my own eyes — the majority was for us,” she said during a Monday press conference in Minsk. “The authorities should think about how to peacefully hand over power to us,” she continued. “I consider myself the winner of this election.”
But the next day, state-run media showed a video of Tikhanovskaya reading a statement calling for an end to protests. Internet sleuths believe the couch from which she read the statement was the same one in Belarus’s election commission office. (Her team had said the opposition leader couldn’t be reached on Monday after she visited that office.) If true, it could signal Tikhanovskaya was forced to call for an end to anti-Lukashenko demonstrations by the regime.
She has since fled to Lithuania, according to that country’s foreign minister, and it’s unclear how long she’ll be there or what, exactly, she’ll do.
> Belarusians! I urge you to be prudent and respect the law. I don’t want blood and violence. I ask you not to confront the police, not to go out to the square, so as not to endanger your life. Take care of yourself and your loved ones. " — Franak Viačorka (@franakviacorka) August 11, 2020
Internet users identified the room by the sofa. It's the office of Central Electoral Commission, where God knows what Tsikhanouskaya has seen or heard. Pro-government media were first published and distributed this video. They believe people are stupid. pic.twitter.com/Wt4FawXEQW — Franak Viačorka (@franakviacorka) August 11, 2020
In the meantime, the Tikhanovskaya-led opposition aims for the pressure to stay on the dictator long term, hoping to sustain a historic call for change. Some believe it could work. “This is the beginning of the end of his era,” Valiantsin Stefanovic, Viasna’s deputy chairman, told me. “This is a new reality for him, because nobody loves him anymore. People want to be free.”
Others don’t believe the remarkable scenes of the past few weeks mean Belarus has moved much closer to a post-Lukashenko future. “There’s definitely something different about this now,” said Matthew Rojansky, an expert on Eastern Europe at the Woodrow Wilson Center think tank in Washington, “but that doesn’t mean this is the breakthrough moment.”
Which means, depressingly enough, Lukashenko most likely will survive the greatest threat yet to his rule — though he won’t come out of it completely unscathed.
How Lukashenko saw his control slip
When Lukashenko became Belarus’s president in 1994 — after receiving 80 percent of the vote in Belarus’s last fair election — he entered office with a staunch anti-corruption message. His right-wing populism resonated with citizens seeking to improve their lives after the fall of the Soviet Union and who blamed the nation’s woes on its sclerotic and incompetent run by the communist-era establishment.
Lukashenko promised to save Belarus. He would tax the rich, steer the economy in the right direction, and root out the corruption which he claimed, “like an all-devouring octopus has ensnared all government organs with its tentacles.”
But, over the years, Lukashenko became the exact enemy he set out to fight. “He moved from good governance to embracing and not denying iron-fistedness,” said Rojansky. Namely, he resisted needed economic reforms, stayed cozy with Russia, and cracked down on dissenters.
As Human Rights Watch noted in 2019, “Belarus continued to harass and pressure civil society activists and independent media,” including denying journalists entry to official events and arresting peaceful protesters. It’s also widely believed that Lukashenko ordered the kidnappings and killings of at least four political opponents. For those and other reasons, opposition figures boycotted or rarely entered recent elections to dethrone the autocrat.
Despite all that, Lukashenko maintained a semblance of popularity because the economy didn’t nosedive on his watch. That minimal success had less to do with Lukashenko’s management, though, and more to do with loans coming in from Russia to keep the country afloat and secure its fealty to Moscow.
As of last summer, Belarus owed Russia about $7.5 billion, causing tensions between the two countries. In an effort to signal his independence and that he hadn’t mismanaged the economy, Lukashenko said his country would give Russia $1 billion per year until the debt was repaid. Further, Belarus would no longer request more funds. “Stop yelling that you are providing for us,” he said in a speech last year, clearly directing his comments at the Kremlin.
Such bravado may also have been a cover. Russia had mostly stopped injecting cash into Belarus, and Minsk struggled to get financial support from other capitals (though Beijing did provide a $500 million loan last year).
As a result, Belarus’s GDP has basically been flat since 2012, forcing thousands to seek work in nearby countries like Poland, work multiple jobs, or gain employment in the country’s byzantine public sector.
That has long spelled trouble for Lukashenko. “An authoritarian system can maintain its popularity as long as it can provide the goods for the population,” said Eleanor Bindman, an expert on post-Soviet states and authoritarian regimes at Manchester Metropolitan University in the UK. “Once that social and economic side of the bargain goes away, people start thinking: ‘What are we getting out of this?’”
That thought clearly crept up more and more as Lukashenko failed to handle his nation’s coronavirus crisis. He called concerns about an outbreak a mass “psychosis” and claimed all it took to kill the virus was a little vodka or a quick trip to the sauna. “No one in the country will die from coronavirus,” he said in April, acknowledging two months later that he contracted the disease but had no symptoms.
His lack of alarm kept the regime from imposing any social restrictions or offering any help to those on the front lines of the national response. “The state completely withdrew without providing support for medical workers,” Maryia Rohava, a Belarus expert at the University of Oslo in Norway, told me. They gave no guidelines and barely provided information at all, she continued, and led Belarusians to take matters into their own hands.
The country has an educated and highly tech-savvy population, and they used that know-how to crowdfund support for medical professionals. One campaign, #bycovid19, provided around $130,000 and 27,000 respirators in April alone. “Our goal is to make sure this system doesn’t collapse,” Andrej Stryzhak, the group’s cofounder, told the Guardian at the time. Such a collapse was possible, as cases increased while just one mask sold on the country’s black market for nearly $16.
Those kinds of campaigns brought hundreds of thousands of Belarusians together online — mostly on Telegram — to both form a movement and realize together that the country was in dire straits with Lukashenko at the helm. Any support the leader had quickly eroded. “We saw many people flip because of Covid-19, poverty, and his attitude toward current problems,” Franak Viacorka, an independent journalist in Belarus, told me.
The longstanding opposition to Lukashenko finally had its greatest opening — the dictator was weak. But the person who would soon lead the opposition was still taking care of her two kids at home, unaware she was about to become the most effective politician to challenge Lukashenko in decades.
How Tikhanovskaya rose to her unlikely moment
Initially three men looked to take the mantle of Lukashenko’s top challenger. But one by one, the dictator found a way to brush them aside before the election — a move experts said was rare because he usually waits to put down the opposition after the vote.
Victor Babariko, widely seen as the most likely opposition candidate, was barred by the regime from running. Valery Tsepkalo, the country’s former ambassador to the US, also couldn’t register for the election and subsequently fled to Russia fearing for his life.
The third man was Sergei Tikhanovsky, the popular YouTuber and fierce Lukashenko critic, who was repeatedly arrested for trying to get in the race. In response, Tikhanovsky in May pushed for his wife Svetlana to run in his stead, an idea experts told me gained support among thousands connected on Telegram. She collected the requisite 100,000 signatures which allowed her to register with regime-controlled election authorities.
Somewhat surprisingly, they approved her registration.
Experts told me Lukashenko usually allows some opposition candidates to run against him. Doing so lets the regime keep the appearance of a fair election and also allows those with grievances to express them once in a while, hoping complaints die down soon after the vote. That seems to have happened in this case, but the president also didn’t seem too threatened by Tikhanovskaya’s candidacy.
One reason was Tikhanovskaya had no political experience at all. In fact, she had never spoken at a political rally before. The other was Lukashenko holds sexist, outdated views of women. “Society is not mature enough to vote for a woman,” Lukashenko said in July, adding that the weight of the presidency would lead her to “collapse, poor thing.”
But Tikhanovskaya didn’t collapse under pressure. Instead, she united the opposition and brought hundreds of thousands of people into the streets in support.
Tsepkalo’s wife and Babariko’s campaign manager, also a woman, backed her campaign during a July announcement that went viral after each made a sign with their hands: a heart, a fist in a fist-pump position, and a “V” for victory. The moment provided immense momentum to her candidacy, as it became clear three women symbolized a youth movement against the old dictator.
“This was a surprising and brilliant move by the opposition,” Tatyana Margolin, the regional director for Open Society’s Eurasia program, told me. “They undoubtedly saw that together they [would] be stronger, so they joined forces rather quickly.”
But Tikhanovskaya’s story was compelling in its own right: To take on the role of political leader, she sent her kids away to an undisclosed location to keep them out of the regime’s clutches. She also made clear that in the unlikely event she actually won, she would quickly hold free elections to let someone who actually wanted to be president to take over.
“I don’t need power, but my husband is behind bars,” Tikhanovskaya told a large Minsk crowd in July. “I’m tired of putting up with it. I’m tired of being silent. I’m tired of being afraid.”
She outlined some reforms, namely her husband’s platform of giving more money to the poor by taking cash away from the corrupt elite. But it’s what she and her female backers represented — a country without an entrenched, corrupt, dangerous regime in charge — that garnered her immense support.
Ironically, it was similar to the message the dictator offered back in 1994. “She’s trying to out-Lukashenko Lukashenko,” the Wilson Center’s Rojansky told me.
That play worked, as she drew hundreds of thousands across the country — not just in cities, but even small towns that have historically been Lukashenko strongholds — into the opposition. “She’s mostly a symbol of the grievances that people are trying to express,” said the University of Oslo’s Rohava.
Those grievances are now being expressed by many on Belarus’s streets. The likelihood that they’ll change anything in the short term, though, is unlikely.
Lukashenko is likely to hold on to power — for now
Belarus has long seen anti-Lukashenko protests like the ones on Minsk’s streets in recent weeks. In 2017, for example, the regime imposed a tax on part-time or unemployed workers, leading thousands to demonstrate against the government. In the end, Lukashenko cracked down on that movement like he had on others in previous years.
Some experts I spoke to said that given enough repression and time, it’s likely the current movement will fizzle out despite its unprecedented size and scope. “The regime is durable,” said Konstantin Ash, an expert on protests in Belarus at the University of Central Florida. “Lukashenko isn’t in a sky-is-falling situation. He’s still very much in charge.”
The only way to tell his grip on power is slipping, Ash added, was if members of the country’s security forces — which receive an inordinate amount of funding and authority from the autocrat — start to defect. “That’s the crucial element.”
So far that hasn’t happened. Instead, security forces have arrested 3,000 people in Minsk and 2,000 others around the country. Lukashenko has vowed to keep the pressure on protesters he called “sheep” under foreign control on Monday. “People need to settle down, calm down.”
But others are convinced Lukashenko’s increased repression, deadly failings, and the size of the democratic movement — now well-connected online — means the dictator’s days are numbered. “This is the best opportunity for this to be the beginning of the end for Lukashenko,” Manchester Metropolitan University’s Bindman told me. “I’d be very surprised if he made it through another five-year term without any other troubles.”
Stefanovic, the human rights leader in Belarus, said what’s also changed is the nation’s attitudes toward female leadership. That could sustain the movement far longer than Lukashenko might think. “Our society is ready to have a woman as the leader of the country,” he told me. “What matters is what a leader says, not if they’re a woman or man.”
The wild card in all of this, though, is Russia. Moscow wants deeper economic and political integration with Belarus, mainly in an effort to ensure it doesn’t lean westward and away from the Kremlin’s grip. That has some worried Russian President Vladimir Putin may launch a Ukraine-like invasion into the Eastern European nation.
Stephen Sestanovich, a Russia expert at the Council on Foreign Relations think tank, though, isn’t so concerned. “The Russians can’t like their choices much,” he said. “Lukashenko has been an ornery partner for years, extremely hard to subdue. But the idea that he’d be brought low by a popular outpouring of opposition to dictatorship and bad management? From Putin’s point of view, that’s pretty awful too.”
What’s more, he added, it’s not like Belarus’s people are clamoring for a more Soviet-like future. Belarus “may look like a poor, unreformed Soviet backwater, but it’s been a nominally independent country now for close to 30 years,” Sestanovich said. “If there’s a constituency for returning to the Russian fold, Putin hasn’t found it.”
Anti-Lukashenko activists, then, may not have to contend with the complication of a Russian invasion. What they have to deal with — a weakened dictator who still wields immense power — will be tough enough.
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