Minsk’s relations with the West have never been so multidirectional—in the most literal sense. On September 10, Russian drones crossed Belarus’s western border in one direction, while a U.S. delegation crossed the border in the other direction, bearing news of the lifting of aviation sanctions against Minsk in exchange for the release of a new group of political prisoners.
The coincidental timing of these two developments is a perfect demonstration of the contrast between the persistence of the country’s contested leader Alexander Lukashenko in trying to end his isolation, and how little control he has over that process.
In return for the United States lifting sanctions against the Belarusian national airline Belavia and announcing plans to reopen an embassy in Minsk, Lukashenko released a group of thirty-eight Belarusian political prisoners and fourteen Western nationals, including journalists and politicians. Previously, Lukashenko had released political prisoners in exchange for the mere fact of visits to Minsk by senior U.S. officials. This was the first time he had secured the actual lifting of U.S. sanctions—albeit only from one Belarusian company so far.
The breakthrough became possible after Lukashenko spoke to Trump by telephone in mid-August, taking the dialogue with the United States to a new level. After that phone call, Lukashenko effectively offered Trump a “big deal” in front of the cameras: for the United States to take all the prisoners it needs, while in another interview he listed the sectors of the economy from which he would like to see sanctions lifted. The sale of political prisoners has not been discussed so openly and cynically in Europe since the ransoming of dissidents from East Germany.
Despite these rapidly unfolding developments, the diplomatic process is still at an early stage. More than 1,100 political prisoners remain in Belarus, and new arrests continue to be made. In early September, thirty-six-year-old Russian national Andrei Podnebenny became the ninth political prisoner to die in prison in recent years. Many high-profile figures remain in torturous conditions, including Maria Kalesnikava and Viktar Babaryka, leaders of the 2020 protests against Lukashenko, as well as the Nobel Prize-winning human rights activist Ales Bialiatski.
The lifting of sanctions against Belavia is a welcome aperitif for Lukashenko, but nothing more. It will now be easier for Minsk to buy new planes and spare parts for older ones, and possibly to resell some of that to Russia. But the geography of Belavia’s flights will not change: the key role in the air blockade of Belarus is played by the European Union, which has not yet lifted any of its own sanctions.
This is the root of the problem that the bilateral dialogue between Minsk and Washington was always doomed to run into: the toughest sanctions against Belarus were imposed by the EU. This is also true of the potash fertilizer sector that Lukashenko has made a priority in discussions with Washington. While the lifting of U.S. potash sanctions would make it easier for Belarus to send and receive payments on the global market, it would not solve the logistical problems: that would require Lithuania to agree to allow Belarusian potash into the port of Klaipeda.
It is still unclear whether the United States will put pressure on the Europeans on behalf of Lukashenko. This is likely why Minsk is doling out its concessions so carefully: so that it can establish over time how much sway Trump still holds over the Western world.
Minsk’s relations with Europe, in the meantime, are going from bad to worse. They have become especially tense with Poland since September 12, when the active phase of the Zapad 2025 joint military exercises with Russia began at Belarusian training grounds.
Prior to the launch of the war games, in a bid to emphasize his peaceful intentions, Lukashenko announced that the maneuvers would be moved further away from the border with NATO than originally planned. But the very fact of the exercises, in which Russia and Belarus decided to practice “planning the use” of nuclear weapons, was still perceived by their neighbors as an aggressive move.
In addition, in early September, Minsk arrested a Polish monk, accusing him of gathering information about the war games with Russia and turning his arrest into a show of propaganda. Apparently, the Belarusian KGB has not received the memo about a thaw in relations with the West—or perhaps there are diehards in the special services who don’t approve.
At around the same time, members of a Belarusian spy ring were detained in the Czech Republic, Poland, and Romania, with Prague and Warsaw expelling one diplomat each. Warsaw subsequently announced it would completely close its border with Belarus from the start of the active phase of the military exercises—both to cargo and to people. The measure is technically temporary, but Poland only plans to lift it when it deems the threat level to have receded.
Considering that the very next day, about twenty Russian drones flew into Poland from Ukraine and Belarus, Warsaw has the perfect pretext for not rushing to reopen the border crossings. Instead, Poland is urgently transferring 40,000 troops to the border and sourcing additional air defense systems and aircraft from all over NATO.
The Belarusian General Staff was quick to say that it had helped Poland to intercept the drones and warned Warsaw that they were moving toward the border, and that in turn it had received warnings from Warsaw about drones flying from Ukraine.
Minsk is clearly keen to avoid a breakdown in dialogue with the United States or a protracted Polish transport blockade. The remaining vehicle crossings on the border with Lithuania and Latvia are no substitute for the closed railway connection with Poland, which forms part of the main overland transit corridor for Chinese goods to and from the EU.
Warsaw acknowledged that Minsk had indeed reported the threat in advance, but did not soften its position. After all, there are implications for domestic Polish politics that must be taken into account. With the ruling liberal coalition having recently lost the presidential election to the conservative nationalist Karol Nawrocki, the government is afraid of appearing lax in protecting the country’s security.
These contradictory events have once again shown how many variables beyond Minsk’s control influence the decisions of Belarus’s neighbors and its room for maneuver. Windows of opportunity open spontaneously, as with Trump, who decided to call Lukashenko from on board Air Force One while flying to Alaska to meet with Putin. Minsk’s modest progress in creating a more predictable and peaceful image could stall at any minute as a result of the overall tension in the region, poorly timed spy scandals, and stray Russian drones. And hanging overhead like the sword of Damocles is the risk that either Trump will be distracted by something new, or Putin, on the contrary, will take an interest in why Lukashenko stole a march from him in the dialogue with Washington.
Lifting sanctions in exchange for the release of political prisoners is ethically and politically complex. Critics rightly point out that Lukashenko can easily fill entire prisons with new people to use as bargaining chips, using this inexhaustible commodity to get painful sanctions lifted. Still, so far, no one has criticized the United States after the fact for making such deals.
And no matter how slippery the slope, the precedent of easing sanctions in exchange for people has been set—or rather resurrected, having previously been used in the middle of the last decade. Discussions of the price tag for the next concessions may be tough and halting, primarily because of the military context. But since the bargaining season is open, the only question is when and how loudly calls will begin to be heard in Europe for more such exchanges.
