Pulling the plug on Lukashenko

Economic hardship in Belarus may mean the end of President Alexander Lukashenko.

Belarus protestor detained
Lukashenko’s failure to deliver on a promise of open elections may mean no more foreign aid, and no more control [EPA] 

Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko is a master of political survival. But, following a recent 64 per cent devaluation of the currency, the clock appears to be running out on his prolonged misrule.

Lukashenko was forced – by the removal of Russian oil-price subsidies in 2009 – to beg, borrow, or steal enough funds to keep Belarus’ economy from collapsing. He tricked the International Monetary Fund into extending a $3.4 billion loan, promising freer elections in December 2010 – only to burn that bridge with a brutal crackdown when faced with an adverse election result and the largest protests his regime had ever seen.

Now Russia has taken a harder line, demanding a high price for loans that are, in any case, insufficient to save the regime. As a result, the Belarusian economy is in free-fall, and Lukashenko’s days appear to be numbered.

Lukashenko used the IMF money to keep his state-dominated, inefficient, and subsidy-dependent economy afloat through the 2010 elections. But, shortly after the vote, signs of trouble became visible. During a visit I made to Belarus in January, officials refused to forecast GDP growth in 2011, except to say that it would be lower. At a time when most of Europe was starting to recover from the 2008-09 recession, Belarus was going in the opposite direction.

Economic failure

Then, crisis erupted in May, when the country ran low on foreign-currency reserves and traders could not purchase the dollars they needed. The currency, which traded at 3,000 rubles to the dollar in January, collapsed to 8,000-9,000 in mid-May, and the government was forced to devalue the official rate from 3,010 to 4,950, while continuing to restrict banks’ ability to buy foreign currency.

As inflation skyrocketed, Belarusians bought anything of value that they could, from food to used cars. Belarus, which had been known (and praised by some) as a socialist haven in Europe, with a relatively generous welfare state and decent, if low, wages, suddenly has become an economic basket case. The public is reaching a breaking point. On June 7, a hundred cars blocked roads in central Minsk to protest against a 30 per cent increase in fuel prices – a daring act in Europe’s most formidable police state.

The swiftness of Belarus’ economic meltdown reflects the directness of its cause: Russia had been financing Lukashenko’s shabby paradise, and then it decided to stop paying. Without enough dollars flowing in from transit fees for Russia’s oil and gas exports to Western Europe, the country was bankrupt.

Russia had simply seized the opportunity presented to it by Lukashenko’s bizarre post-election crackdown, in which he used disproportionate force to clear the streets and imprisoned hundreds of activists, including seven of the presidential candidates who had run against him. Presidential candidate Andrei Sannikov was recently sentenced to five years in prison for taking part in election-night protests.


The outcry from a betrayed West was loud and visceral. Lukashenko had lured the IMF and the European Union into providing support for his economy during the global financial crisis. The presidents of Italy and Lithuania had made high-profile visits prior to the elections as part of a policy of “engagement”. The foreign ministers of Poland, Germany, and Sweden traveled to Minsk during the fall of 2010 to meet with Lukashenko, civil-society groups, and opposition leaders. At the end of this trip, Polish Foreign Minister Radoslaw Sikorski announced the possibility of a $4 billion EU aid package, should Belarus hold a free and fair election.

When these hopes were dashed, the West reacted with stunned disbelief and anger, reinstating sanctions on 156 top Belarusian officials and members of Lukashenko’s family. The EU has since imposed additional sanctions on judges and other officials involved in punishing protestors, bringing the number of sanctioned individuals to 190.

More importantly, Lukashenko’s break with the West left him at the mercy of Russia – and the Russians, sensing his weakness, decided to bargain hard. They threatened to renege on their own generous pre-election promises of aid unless Belarus surrendered stakes in the country’s most lucrative companies, including Beltransgaz, the gas-pipeline network, and Belaruskali, the potash miner, among others.

This has put Lukashenko squarely on the horns of a dilemma. He needs Russia’s money, but his domestic support is based on defending Belarus’ fragile sovereignty. Some would regard the sale of the economy’s “crown jewels” as tantamount to national betrayal, possibly a capital crime. A bombing in the Minsk metro in April that killed 14 and injured hundreds may have been a grim foretaste of the political risks involved.

Russian vice-grip

Negotiations with Russia dragged on, and the country ran out of money. Now Russia says that it will provide money in the form of loans, promising annual tranches of around $1 billion – but only if Belarus makes sufficient concessions. And, in early June, Lukashenko signed a deal: Belaruskali is the first enterprise on the table, in exchange for an $800 million loan.

Lukashenko’s only alternative to losing sovereignty to Russia, and thus risking the wrath of his nationalist base, is to go begging to the IMF. In that case, he would face “shock globalisation” and political death through free and fair elections – that is, unless the IMF goes soft and shovels more money at him (a deal worth $3.5-8 billion is being sought), possibly in exchange for the release of political prisoners.

The IMF should not be in the ransom business. The West should send the same message to Lukasenko that it has sent to Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi and Syrian President Bashar al-Assad: No IMF money to prolong the life of the regime. No loans for prisoners. It is time for Lukashenko to go.

Mitchell A Orenstein is Professor of European Studies at Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced and International Studies in Washington, DC.

A version of this article first published by Project Syndicate.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial policy.