Alexander Lukashenko has become wholly dependent on Vladimir Putin after the mass protests that followed the disputed 2020 presidential election, says French political scientist Anaïs Marin, who served as the UN special rapporteur on human rights in Belarus from 2018 to 2024.

Marin, an expert on post‑Soviet societies, traced Lukashenko's political evolution from a populist "red director", a former manager of a large Soviet‑era agricultural collective, to a ruler whose legitimacy rests on a paternalistic social contract. In the early 1990s he presented himself as a "father of the nation", promising to protect citizens from birth to death in exchange for unconditional loyalty.

From populist promise to constitutional autocracy

When Lukashenko first won the 1994 presidential vote, the election was deemed free and fair. He campaigned on an anti‑corruption platform and quickly reshaped the constitution, the judiciary and the security services to cement his grip on power. Over the next two decades the state apparatus morphed into a system that supplied basic services while stifling independent civil society, a model that resembled Soviet‑style paternalism more than a liberal democracy.

'Dictaplomacy' and the illusion of choice

Marin describes Belarusian foreign policy as "dictaplomacy", a diplomatic approach that offers nothing beyond a promise of loyalty to a more powerful patron. Historically, Belarus has been economically intertwined with Russia, relying on Moscow for energy, trade and financial support. The notion that Lukashenko could swing between East and West, she argues, is naïve.

"He used the threat of normalising relations with the West as a bargaining chip with Russia," Marin explained. "It was like a spouse threatening to go to the neighbour unless the husband bought a new dress. Until 2020 that threat worked." When the Kremlin sensed a possible shift, it responded with concessions, but never with genuine respect for Belarusian sovereignty.

2020 protests shattered the illusion of leverage

The disputed 2020 election sparked nationwide demonstrations that were met with brutal police repression. The crackdown isolated Lukashenko internationally; sanctions were tightened and diplomatic contacts with the EU and the United States were largely severed. In the aftermath, the president's ability to bargain with Moscow evaporated.

"After the protests, he was left alone and became completely dependent on Putin," Marin said. "The Kremlin showed him who was boss." The Russian leadership, already uneasy about the potential spread of unrest into its own territory, recalling the 2011‑12 Bolotnaya Square protests, feared a "second Maidan" that could ignite similar dissent across the border.

With Western avenues closed, the only line of communication for Lukashenko was the Russian president. The shift was stark: state television journalists who resigned in protest were replaced by Russian reporters, who continued to broadcast Kremlin‑aligned narratives as if the crackdown had not occurred.

Implications for Belarusian society and Europe

Marin warns that the spiral of repression shows no sign of reversing. "More repression leads to more repression," she notes, underscoring the bleak prospects for any return to democratic norms. For European workers and consumers, the deepening Belarus‑Russia alignment raises concerns about energy security and the potential use of Belarusian territory for further Russian military operations.

When Russia launched its full‑scale invasion of Ukraine from Belarusian soil, Lukashenko reportedly received an offer from his "supreme master" that he could not refuse, according to analyst Alexey Kazharski, who briefed Marin shortly after the war began. The exact nature of the offer remains undisclosed, but the implication is clear: Belarus is now a strategic foothold for Moscow, with little room for independent policy.

Union and civil‑society reactions

European trade unions have condemned the crackdown and called for stronger sanctions targeting the Belarusian security apparatus. They argue that punitive measures should be paired with robust support for Belarusian civil society, including funding for independent media and legal aid for political prisoners.

Human‑rights organisations echo the sentiment, urging the EU to maintain pressure on both Minsk and Moscow. They point out that the Belarusian economy, already fragile, is increasingly dependent on subsidised Russian energy, a factor that could exacerbate poverty and inequality if sanctions tighten further.

What lies ahead?

Marin stresses that any future shift in Belarusian foreign policy will require a fundamental change in the power balance within the Kremlin‑Minsk relationship. "Unless Russia's domestic situation forces a recalibration, Lukashenko's options remain limited," she says.

For European policymakers, the challenge is to devise a strategy that deters further Russian aggression while supporting the aspirations of Belarusians for democratic freedoms. The situation illustrates how authoritarian leaders can become entangled in the strategic ambitions of larger neighbours, leaving ordinary citizens to bear the brunt of repression and economic hardship.