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The World War II Courage Monument in Brest. (Nanna Heitmann/Magnum Photos/For The Washington Post)
Belarus’s Lukashenko calls Putin his “elder brother,” but over 30 years in office, he’s had to balance close ties to Moscow with keeping his country from being swallowed.
By Francesca Ebel
NOVAYA GUTA, Belarus — Three years after Russia used Belarus as a launching pad for its brutal invasion of Ukraine, the border here between Belarus and Ukraine is eerily quiet.
Gone are the days when the highway at this crossing was a bustling conduit between the port of St. Petersburg on the Baltic Sea and the port of Odessa on the Black Sea. Now the crossing is used only for exchanges of prisoners of war and dead soldiers. Rows of dragon teeth puncture the surrounding fields and roads, and the way to Ukraine is barricaded and desolate.
Belarus lost a lot in severing its relationship with Ukraine — the West doubled down on sanctions after Minsk allowed Russian troops to use its territory as a staging ground. And Belarus is more than ever seen as a proxy for Moscow, with President Alexander Lukashenko even acquiescing to hosting Russian tactical nuclear weapons, including Moscow’s latest, the Oreshnik hypersonic ballistic missile.
While Lukashenko has expressed “no regrets” about Belarus’s role in the conflict, his public statements belie a more complex picture of a country walking a delicate tightrope between its Soviet past — and an aggressive eastern neighbor — and its aspirations for renewed engagement with the European Union.
After Russia helped Lukashenko weather protests against his rule, he leaned even more into his country’s pre-independence Soviet identity for everything from language to education. At the same time, however, he made overtures tothe West to present himself as a mediator. As Russian President Vladimir Putin has pushed for full integration of the two countries and a common currency, Lukashenko has managed to thread the needle, serving as a key ally to Moscow and a backer of the invasion — he appeared with Putin on Thursday as they pledged to deepen defense cooperation — while maintaining a degree of strategic sovereignty.
A rare trip to Belarus by a Washington Post reporting team has shown how Russia’s shadow continues to lengthen over the country, and how it has been caught between two neighbors in a high-stakes conflict that could upend the global security order. With its strategic location between the NATO states and Russia, Belarus is key to any discussion about the future of European security. The question for Western governments is what role Belarus could play — will it just be a proxy for Russia or could Lukashenko become a go-between?
Blocked border
Unlike Lukashenko, residents in the border town of Novaya Guta deeply regret the war.
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They recounted with grim faces their shock when columns of Russian armored vehicles rumbled through the town one night three years ago, as rockets and missiles roared overhead. Some even fear that a new “special military operation,” Putin’s euphemism for the war, could absorb Belarus.
Sofia — who like many in this article is not identified by full name because of potential backlash from authorities for speaking to the international press — said people in the village are afraid that what was done to Ukraine could happen to Belarus, too.
“People who don’t pay attention to this do not care. And those who do are afraid that Belarus may become a little Russia,” she said.
Sofia said her sister in Ukraine had cut contact since the war started — a story similar to those of several others in the village with relatives across the border. “We are guilty. This war was our fault, too,” Sofia said sadly.
On peak days, about 15,000 people and 7,000 vehicles used to flow along this highway. Border guards remember the “great” relations they used to have with their neighbors to the south, while residents recall a time when there was no border at all — one could just walk into Ukraine. Many here speak a blend of Russian, Belarusian and Ukrainian.
“We haven’t been lucky with our history here,” said one border guard, Andrei.
“So many people have died in this war,” he said. “The blood that’s been spilled will only be forgotten after several generations.”
Still, Ukrainians should understand that resistance to Russia is futile, Andrei added — they should never have expected to win this war. In a time of such global instability, he said, small nations must choose bigger partners.
Anton Bykovsky, press secretary for Belarus’s State Border Committee, had a similar message.
“When the middle brother fights with his older brother, as younger brothers, we naturally do everything possible to ensure that the family is in order and that there is no discord,” he said.
Putin as ‘older brother’
The hulking Lukashenko, who has ruled Belarus for 30 years, frequently refers to the slighter Putin as his “older brother,” and the Belarusian’s time in office has seen the development of a close, symbiotic relationship with Russia that began with their formation of a new union in 1995, four years after the fall of the Soviet Union during a brief moment of liberalization for Belarus.
Putin has often suggested he would like to fully integrate the two countries. Lukashenko, who once called talks of unification “exceedingly stupid,” has so far managed to stave this off, but Putin has been taking advantage of Lukashenko’s increasing vulnerability to push the countries even closer together.
“What we see now in Belarus is a creeping occupation, and this is done with consent of Lukashenko. Lukashenko does not serve the interests of Belarus, but the interests of Putin and Russia,” exiled opposition leader Svetlana Tikhanovskaya said in an interview. She added: “This could lead us to the situation where Belarus becomes completely swallowed by Russia.”
Tikhanovskaya is recognized in the West as the true victor in Belarus’s 2020 presidential election, an event that ignited massive anti-government protests and, after a violent crackdown, deepened Belarus’s international isolation.
In the nearly five years since those protests swept Belarus, Lukashenko has brutalized, jailed and exiled his critics. Today, a repost on social media is enough to get you jailed for criticism of the government.
The bond between Russia and Belarus has also deepened, culminating in Minsk’s role in the invasion.
Western sanctions have made the economy of this country of just 9 million even more dependent on Russia, the focus of two-thirds of its trade.
“Within the Union State, we have many common, interconnected ties. … It’s as if we are a single, joint space,” explained Sergey Avramenko, director of Minsk Tractor Works, using the formal term for the Russia-Belarus relationship. His sprawling operation, built on the order of Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin, exports 30 to 50 percent of its production to Russia.
But despite this reliance on Moscow, Lukashenko, a wily former collective-farm boss, is quick to demonstrate his readiness for renewed outreach with the West.
A fresh release of political prisoners was welcomed by the White House, and there has been speculation it could be a ploy to persuade the Trump administration to ease sanctions, as the United States recalibrates its relationship with Russia.
Lukashenko may be “looking to turn the page,” said Belarusian activist Dmitry Bolkunets. But the West should not be fooled, he warned. “He will exploit this tactic, continuing to imprison new individuals and trading their release.”
A certain kind of history
On an unusually bright January afternoon at the Brest Fortress, dozens of glum-looking schoolchildren were training in self-defense, first aid and rappelling at a building still riddled with World War II-era bullet holes.
The fortress, at the border with Poland, lies at the heart of one of modern Belarus’s founding legends — it is where 1,000 Soviet soldiers died defending the city from invading Nazi forces at the start of a war that would go on to kill almost a third of the Belarusian population.
Viktor Ivanov, director of the Brest Regional Center for Youth Creativity, and his instructors are passionate that young Belarusians should be encouraged to connect with their history, which in the instructors’ eyes reached its peak with Belarus’s contribution to the Soviet victory over fascism.
But the message and historical narrative taught at the youth center is selective, critics argue, saying it ignores Belarus’s medieval past, its history under Polish rule and its periods of independence. The program focuses largely on World War II — and is strikingly similar to government youth outreach in Russia.
Since the 2020 protests, Belarus has poured money into youth clubs like these and created new positions at schools to supervise military and patriotic upbringing. Last year, authorities announced a unified history textbook for Belarusian and Russian students.
“Lukashenko has mixed together the Second World War, obedience to his regime and support for the war in Ukraine into a single narrative, and he uses this narrative to confront Western liberal values, democracy and human rights,” said Franak Viacorka, Tikhanovskaya’s chief adviser.
Meanwhile, people are warned away from places that tell a different story about Soviet times. At Kurapaty, a pine forest on the outskirts of the capital where Soviet-era secret police killed tens of thousands of people before World War II, surveillance cameras ring the woods and signs warn visitors they are being recorded.
There is no official memorial here. Authorities instead built a busy road that cuts through the forest, dismantling dozens of wood crosses that reminded Belarusians of the scale of the state’s slaughter.
Talk like a Belarusian
Language is another identity battleground in Belarus. As Valzhyna Mort, a Belarusian poet and professor at Cornell University, puts it: Once you open your mouth in today’s Belarus, your political stance is determined.
After 2020, speaking Belarusian — closer to Ukrainian and Polish than Russian — became a sign of resistance to the regime, even though it is one of two official languages. Its teaching and use have come under increased scrutiny in recent years as the country has experienced a new wave of Russification, drawing it closer to its neighbor.
Lukashenko has long regarded Belarusian as a “poor” dialect and, over his three decades in power, has weakened its use in preference of Russian. Belarusian still appears on street signs, government buildings, electoral ballots and public transportation — but it is very rare to hear it spoken.
“Belarusian has been reduced to a costume and a kitsch,” Mort said. “The government is not about to eliminate it completely, but our predominant culture is Russian, and Russian power is transmitted to us through the Russian language.”
There are islands of Belarusian still out there. At the Yakub Kolas museum in Minsk — dedicated to the life of the famous Belarusian writer of the early 20th century — guided tours are given almost exclusively in Belarusian.
Kolas’s life was shaped by the state’s repression of the Belarusian language. He was jailed for speaking Belarusian, and he smuggled early drafts of his first book out of prison by hiding scraps of paper in his long black beard.
“People still feel it is dangerous to speak Belarusian today and they are scared,” said one of the museum’s guides. “It is linked to this Soviet period of repression.”
Belarusian publishers and writers have been jailed or pressured into exile. Teachers have been fired for conducting lessons in the language. Belarusian news sites have been shuttered. Conversely, the language has experienced something of an online renaissance, with a growing number of Belarusian-language content creators on TikTok, as young Belarusians seek to engage with their roots.
The Belarusian language is dying, said Sergei, 34, who works in digital sales in Minsk. “We are like a base for Russia and we can’t do much about it,” he said, adding that Ukraine was right to fight for its national identity.
One people, one state?
Not everyone is against Lukashenko’s policies or a closer union with Russia.
Public sentiment has improved toward the authorities since 2020. Amid fears that Russia could try to draft Belarusians to fight alongside Russian troops, people credit Lukashenko with keeping the country out of direct involvement in the war.
Stronger economic ties with Russia, which have stabilized an isolated Belarusian economy and increased wages, have also tempered ripples of discontent.
Sergei Azhanilok, an economist, told The Post that it would be a “good thing” if Belarus and Russia were a single powerful state. “If we unite the territories, we wouldn’t see much difference — we are one people, the Slavs,” he said.
Lukashenko is maintaining a “comfortable status quo” with Russia, according to Artyom Shraibman, a nonresident scholar at the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center. But, in a recent analysis, he said that could be threatened by the momentous changes afoot with the war in Ukraine and talk of peace negotiations.
If the campaign against Ukraine were to be frustrated, he warned, Russia might “incorporate Belarus as a consolation prize.”
“Any shift in the current equilibrium spells danger for Minsk,” Shraibman said, adding that Lukashenko’s “task ahead is monumental: keeping relations with his guarantor from going to either extreme.”