Where Tyranny Rules

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To maintain that supremacy, Lukashenko relies on raw force and on keeping Belarusians dependent on the state. No less than 80% of the population live on federal salaries, pensions, stipends and subsidies. This repressive climate has fueled rumors about the fate of those who oppose the regime. When, in 1999, Gennady Karpenko, a former member of parliament then challenging the President, died of an apparent brain hemorrhage, people were swift to suggest he had been murdered. Three more prominent opposition activists have since disappeared. And in 2000, when a Russian TV cameraman was kidnapped and murdered, some alleged he had been the mistaken victim of a politically motivated assassination. Christos Pourgourides, delegated by the Council of Europe's parliamentary assembly to look into these cases, concluded in a January 2004 report that top state officials took steps "to cover up these disappearances" and "may themselves be involved." All such charges have been flatly denied by Lukashenko and his aides.

In public, Belarusian citizens display a remarkable indifference to the rigors of their life. At home, though, they're grumbling. Alex, a small businessman who refused to give his last name, says he envies the freedom people have "to make money and live" in Ukraine. "They don't have to pay bribes now, they are no longer afraid of the police, fire inspectors, tax officials and other extortionists," he says. Tanya Trupsh, 38, a former television journalist, quit her job when private stations lost their independence. "You're free to say whatever you please," she says, "as long as you don't say it in public." Sometimes it's not enough to keep things private. Last August the kgb raided the apartments of several students who had e-mailed each other cartoons lampooning Lukashenko. The youths now face trial and stiff prison terms. Late last month, the rubber-stamp legislature passed a bill outlawing virtually every form of political dissent and authorizing wider use of pretrial detention, and stiffer jail sentences. It will come into effect just as the presidential election campaign kicks off. "Of course you'll elect me," the Batska declared earlier this month. "What else can you do?"

Western nations have criticized Lukashenko's regime, but have done little else. Last April, while attending a nato meeting in Lithuania, U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice called Belarus "the last remaining true dictatorship in the heart of Europe," and said "it is time for change to come." Lukashenko and other officials have been barred from traveling to the U.S. and Europe, and last month, the European Union threatened Belarus with sanctions for suppressing freedom of speech. Still, Belarus' opposition leaders fret that Western governments do not do enough about the country's plight. "We're not a pivotal area, like Ukraine," says Milinkevich, "so the world doesn't really care."

It won't be easy for Belarusians to free themselves. The opposition parties that still exist are not allowed to publish newspapers, and face routine police harassment. Their ranks have dwindled to several thousand members. But leaders are hoping that a show of unity behind one candidate might make a difference at the polls. Even so, Milinkevich is already looking beyond the July vote. He says a senior law-enforcement official told him privately that the police might switch sides if tens of thousands march against a rigged election.

Lukashenko is convinced Belarusians prefer his stability and government handouts. He knows how to make small, insignificant gestures. Late last month, after a Swedish diplomat visited Statkevich in a very public show of solidarity, Lukashenko allowed the dissident to spend his nights at home with his seriously ill father. But his days are still spent in forced labor. And as long as Lukashenko is President, real freedom will remain elusive for Statkevich — and 10 million other Belarusians.