Where Tyranny Rules

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When the Soviet Union crumbled in 1991, most people of Belarus were taken aback by their sudden freedom, and shocked by an onslaught of corruption. In 1994, they elected Lukashenko, 51, a former state farm boss, popularly known as the Batska (which means both father and leader). The charismatic member of parliament with a bushy mustache and a talent for fiery oratory built his presidential campaign on a pledge to stamp out corruption, rein in the high-handed bureaucracy and restore ties with Russia. Many voters hoped that such an alliance would ease the burden of cleaning up after the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear disaster next door in Ukraine, which contaminated almost 23% of Belarus and still costs the government nearly 25% of its meager $3 billion budget.

The Batska promised to prevent Russian-style plunder of the new nation by capitalist oligarchs. But voters never imagined he would take them back to the Stalinist past. Once in office, he rolled back privatization, stifled economic reforms, renationalized most banks, stepped up centralized controls and preserved collective farms. Minsk today looks like the set for a 1950s Soviet movie. Its broad boulevards, designed for military parades and tanks, are clean, orderly — and dull. Monotonous rows of Stalinist apartment blocks line the streets, and there are no traffic jams or bright advertising to bring life to the city. The omnipresent police keep crime in check, but also beat up "undesirables" in broad daylight. Some modern shops stock luxury consumer goods — at least in their windows — but most shoppers earn wages that barely cover staples. At night harsh floodlights glare over silent, empty streets.

Exporting leftover Soviet weapons worldwide and, allegedly, serving as a conduit for illegal arms trafficking from Russia, help keep the Lukashenko state afloat. It is also dependent on Russia for the country's main legitimate source of income: two oil refineries that process cheap Russian crude and sell it to Europe as high-priced diesel and other heavy fuels. All the oil and weapons export revenues flow into the shadowy presidential budget that the Batska personally controls. Otherwise, he claims, unworthy officials would embezzle the money. That makes him "the only oligarch in this country," says Anatoly Lebedko, chair of the opposition United Civil Party (ucp). "He can redistribute profits at will among state-owned and even private enterprises." From these proceeds Lukashenko maintains a Soviet-style welfare state providing basic medical services, education and pensions — though the payouts are meager. Yet relations with Russia remain uneasy: there is no love lost between Lukashenko and Russian President Vladimir Putin, says Andrei Sannikov, former Belarusian Deputy Foreign Minister, and the Kremlin is keen to bring Belarus back into Russia's fold. If Moscow were to shut off the oil, Lukashenko's regime would collapse. But for now, the ornery President holds off another democratic revolution on Russia's borders.

Lukashenko does that the old-fashioned way. Every corner of the 208,000-sq-km country comes under his iron fist. He personally appoints all officials from ministers and regional governors down to village store managers — who are fired or arrested if they fail to deliver. The Batska's authority does not rest on a monolithic party but on a personal ideology, such as it is, based on his own proclamations. A sample: "Private property has the right to exist, but it must be under the state's control." Lukashenko has decreed his views must be taught at schools and universities, and ordered every company, state-run or private, to name a director for ideology who functions as the regime's political commissar. "The President," says a senior Western diplomat, "controls all levers of power in government as well as in society."