How the ultimate weapon turned into a pumpkin.
Sometimes some people ask me: "Why are the Belarusian authorities so persistent in the migration crisis?" Because if the same action, repeated for the fifth, tenth, or hundredth time, invariably leads to the opposite of the desired result, then this is usually, of course, a reason to rethink something in your current activity.
And if you do not invent conspiracy reasons, then it seems to me that there is a simple explanation for the stubbornness of the Belarusian authorities. Because an old monk taught that the simplest explanation is usually the most correct. That is, the explanation may be a little complicated, but the reason is actually very simple.
For many years, the Belarusian authorities have been considering the idea of a flood of illegal migrants as such an absolute weapon. And this year they decided that it was time to use these weapons to bring the West to its knees. But after the factor of surprise had exhausted itself, it turned out that the neighbors, despite their false humanism and dubious bourgeois democracy, also know how to guard the borders. And the ultimate weapon turned into a pumpkin.
And the Belarusian authorities have even begun, it seems, to understand something about their place in this world. At least there was a moment when the high flow of migrants dried up to a few drops a day. And then, suddenly, it spilled again.
Here we are used to saying "Belarusian authorities." Because it's convenient. But, in fact, every idea of the Belarusian authorities has a specific name, surname, and position. And, after the alternative success of the migrant venture, its authors had every chance of becoming strangers at the bureaucratic celebration of life. Because success is always the merit of the leader, and, if a failure happens, then you must definitely look for the guilty.
But then, very conveniently, it was discovered that, in Poland, there are some people who consider the treatment of migrants by their governments to be wrong and inhumane. And, since these people expressed their opinions loudly and creatively, the authors of the migrant venture had the opportunity to justify their further bureaucratic existence with the words: “We are great. We have created an internal political crisis for Poland.”
And, of course, these words were very well received. Because they were like a balm for a wounded sense of geopolitical greatness. Really. If you can cause a political crisis for someone, it means that there is still gunpowder somewhere.
And it doesn't matter that, in Poland, like in any other country of traditional democracy, such crises happen on average twice a month. If the foundations of your stability are threatened by a chat of two dozen participants, then a deputy breaking through the border cordons is practically tantamount to a military coup.
And it is even less important that, according to polls, the overwhelming majority of Poles support the government's actions on the issue of migrants. Where votes in elections are counted using the principles of non-Euclidean arithmetic, no one will seriously believe the data of any polls.
Because the Belarusian bureaucracy exists in reality, in which the principles of efficiency and any long-term strategies do not matter. And the purpose and raison d'être is for the bosses to be satisfied. And in this reality, a correctly drawn-up report is more important than the result. Because, creating an atmosphere of fear, the Belarusian authorities intimidated themselves the most. And for the average bureaucratic witness of stability, the frowning eyebrows of the heads are more frightening than the prospect of the coming of the GUBOPIK for the conditional "zmagar."
The Letters to daughter telegram channel