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We Knew Belarus And Russia's Military Sucked Ten Years Ago

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We Knew Belarus And Russia's Military Sucked Ten Years Ago
TOMAS MAZETTI AND HANNAH FREY

The story of the legendary “Teddy Bears Airdrop”.

The Charter97.org website publishes the exclusive story written by Tomas Mazetti, pilot and participant of the teddy bear airdrop.

On July 4, 2012, employees of the Swedish advertising agency Studio Total Tomas Mazetti, Per Cromwell and Hannah Frey entered the airspace of Belarus on a light aircraft and dropped teddy bears with notes “In support of freedom of speech in Belarus” over Minsk and Ivianets.

Part 1: Barrels of B52

It was late in September 2011. It rained. Me and Hannah were sitting in a bar drinking B52. Hannah is my wife, and if you, at the end of this story, do not understand why, I pity you. Linda and Per came by. Linda, a gorgeous drummer with an unusual sense of logic, told us a story about a guy in Belarus. He had put Teddy Bears with protest signs on a bench in Minsk. The KGB had confiscated the bears, and jailed the guy.

“Someone” said Per “should send paratrooper-plush-bears to rescue them.”

Per is my cousin, the kind of sanguine sorcerer that you can call at 3 am and ask to help you bury an elephant.

“Agreed” said Hannah “How hard could it be?”

I thought for a moment. How hard could it be? To me, who could hardly drive a car, it sounded hard. But after a few more B52s, I started to realise it probably was straight-forward enough. We just needed an airplane, and oh, a map.

Part 2: Radical regrets

The morning after was somewhat blurry. Why was there a badly drawn map of Belarus on my bed? And perhaps more importantly- where was I? Then it slowly started to come back to me. With my head aching, I walked slowly to work.

“It was a joke, right?” I said after meeting up with the crew.

“Joke or not” said Hannah “we made a group promise!”

A group promise was a tradition we had. Once made it could not be broken. It was a childish idea that had already taken us to many bad places.

“You claimed,” Linda added evilly, “that you needed more ‘adventure’ in life.”

Part 3: Relative realities

Back in 2011 Sweden had huge problems. For instance, the nightlife was quite boring. But Hannah, who had used the morning to google, said that the situation in Belarus was a ‘bigger’ problem. How could there be bigger problems than the total lack of cocktail bars open after 3 a.m, I asked. Hannah showed me a video of policemen beating up unarmed students with metal bars.

“You ought to” said Linda “At least pretend this is somehow a worse problem”

“Ok, ok” I said, feeling grumpy. “Let’s do it then. But I warn you. It’s gonna dig into our bar-budget”.

“Great!” beamed Hannah “then we just need a pilot!”

Part 4: Procuring a Pilot

We asked some friends in the Swedish airforce if they wanted to fly the plane. They laughed. Even NATO feared the S-300 anti-aircraft systems. Not to mention MIG fighter jets and Lukashenko's favourite units- the border guards. Then they showed us a disturbing video of a hot air balloon being shot down.

Per tried to convince them, by talking about the potential of surprise. The raid on Taranto, the Trojan horse and so on, when Linda, unexpectedly, interrupted him.

On the contrary, she said, an airlift like this would be exactly what Lukashenko expected after arresting the bears.

“But” she said with a triumphant voice “were not challenges like this what had gotten our friends into the army in the first place?

“Let it go” they smirked. “There are other fights to win. Like who gets to create the next tv ad for Pringles.”

Part 5: Kidding a kidder

Being storytellers ourselves, we understood. An army needs an enemy. The more dangerous, the better. This is why the entire western military complex has been painting former soviet states as military behemoths. The problem is that this has played right into the dictator’s hands. Since people already believe in his almighty military, Lukashenko has been able to squander his military budget on corruption and assaulting unarmed dissidents within Belarus. Before anything could be done in Belarus, we needed to show how crappy his army really was. A lighter version of what Putin is currently doing to himself in Ukraine.

Part 6: Pilot schmilot

Since professional pilots didn’t seem to be the carpe-diem kind of people, I decided to pilot the plane myself. Why not? Flying sounded fun, and if I got shot down? Well, I have many faults, but fooling myself that the world would miss me was never one of them.

”But if YOU go down in flames” said Hannah “who will cook me Shakshuka!?”.

”Come with me Madame!” said I. ”And you shall not miss Shakshuka either way it goes.”

With this logic, it was decided. But before we went aeroplane shopping, we decided to take a closer look at these “border defences”...

Part 7: Belarus Blues

We took the ferry from Karlskrona to Gdynia and drove east. The plan was Linda’s, and it was as simple as it was genial: “Park the car somewhere and walk over!”

We stuffed our rucksacks with Riesling and started walking. It was November, and the fields were as damp as cold. (If you ever go trekking in eastern Poland, avoid November).

Then suddenly: there it was. A strip of land where all the trees had been cleared. Some wooden towers. Rusted barbed wire. It looked like an abandoned movie set from an eighties movie. We almost expected Mr Schwarzenegger to come bursting out of the bushes with a machine gun in each hand. But he didn’t. Instead, absolutely nothing happened. Two hours later, we found ourselves at a bar in the city of Hrodna.

Part 8: The best bartender

The bar was small and dimly lit. There were a few old men watching TV and a group of youngsters celebrating a birthday and some other locals. Happy to be indoors, we went around chatting with people. Like in most countries with few tourists, Belarusians are curious and friendly to strangers. Soon we were the centre of attention in this little bar. Our problem was that the people all seemed too nice. What we needed was someone much less nice. We needed a crook!

Part 9: The coolest crook

Why a crook? To be brief; in a democratic society lawbreakers are (at best) annoying. In a legal dictatorship, the same lawbreakers are often the only people you can trust. Go to Yad Vashem in Jerusalem, and you’ll find a lot of people described as “annoying” by their neighbours. It took some time, and two more bars, until we found him. He was perhaps 60 years old with a body like Iggy Pops and fake Oakley sunglasses. As we approached, he grinned, lit a new cigarette with the old one and asked if we wanted to buy an almost new power drill. Bingo!

Part 10: Our shady saviour

“That is a nice looking drill you have there” said Linda and offered him a Vodka with Fanta. Mr Shady drank it and proceeded to offer us various other bargains. A Pioneer cassette-player, a cat and some dubious orange pills. After we had turned down all these great offers, he gave us a long, suspicious look.

“So” he said “now that I know what you do not want, is there anything you do want?”

This was the moment, yet I hesitated. So far, we had really not done anything too illegal. What we really wanted was ristier. What if the man was a disguised member of some law enforcement agency?

Part 11: Picking a path.

I looked again. No! To me, Mr Shady seemed 100% reassuringly crooked! Anyway, what spy would choose to sprinkle his sentences with forgotten 50-ies expressions like “That razz my berries”?

So…we told him. We admitted we were mainly interested in, eh, maps over the border to, eh, Poland and Lithuania or at least, ehum, you know….information about that area.

“Why did you not say so before Daddy-O!” he beamed “now, we go and meet Mr Ivanushka!”

Part 12: Gone in Hrodna!

With Mr Shady behind the wheel and the four of us crammed into the back seat we set off. Mr Shady, perhaps energised by all the Fanta, drove his Lada extraordinarily fast through dark streets, not least considering the amount of vodka he had just consumed. (In hindsight, this was perhaps the most dangerous moment of the whole campaign). After twenty minutes of constant panic and prayer, Mr Shady suddenly slammed on the brakes and the car came to a clattering halt.

There was a moment of silence. The cold, crisp air that drifted in through the cars open windows smelled of grass and hydraulic fluid. Mr Shady took a few sips from a bottle of something. “Boy, did I need that” he said as he ushered us out of the car and into a grey building. A few stairs up he stopped and started to pound furiously with his fists on an unmarked door.

Part 13: Kahlua Capitulation.

It took about five minutes until a fat man finally peeked out. He had a round, tanned face like a burnt blini and small, suspicious eyes. He looked at us, from one to the other. Then he put a fat finger in the chest of Mr Shady “You” he said “are drunk”.

Well to be honest, we didn’t understand a word of what he said, cause we didn’t speak the language, but that seemed to be the gist of it.

Mr Shady didn’t disagree. Instead, he grinned and held up a bottle of Kaluha that glittered alluringly in the fluorescent light of the staircase. Pancake-face eyed us with those small, suspicious eyes, then he looked at the bottle, and with a sudden strange smile, he showed us in.

Part 14: Army adoration.

We found ourselves in a medium-sized room with a small sofa, a big TV and an enormous wall mount with automatic rifles. “No worry, just stand here ” said Mr Shady and disappeared into another room. For perhaps fifteen minutes we heard them argue loudly through the closed door as we grew increasingly nervous. Then Mr Shady suddenly materialised with his left arm over the now visibly drunk Pancake Faces' shoulders. “Ivan” said Mr Shady “digs the army. He really digs it.”

Part 15. The perfect plan

This was perfect! Our simple plan was to tell everyone about all the good things we had heard about Belarus border defences. We were fans, so to speak, from foreign lands. This would flatter the sycophants to prove us right, while at the same time provoke potential dissidents to prove us wrong. In any case, it wasn’t illegal to praise the army. We followed our plan.

Pancake Face now had tears in his face, and with the help of Mr Shady translating, he told us a very long story about a superior officer named Yegor, who had made his life hell at the barracks.

“But” said Hannah “we have heard that the incorruptible officers are what makes everything so perfectly organised.”

Part 16. Potemkin Patrols.

He used other words, but the polite version was that the higher officers were the reason that everything was shit.

“What do you mean, shit?” said Per, shaken “is not everything impeccably organised?”

Was it too much? I didn’t need to worry. Without hesitation, Pancake Face went on to tell us how the infamous S-300 systems were parked in garages somewhere, and that no one knew how to operate them anyway. The radar system in the woods was not operational because the boss sold the electricity to a local manufacturer of rubber details. Even the guard towers had been abandoned since 2010 when the elite of the border troops had been transferred to Minsk to help against the ‘insurrection’. Pancake Face whispered something to Mr Shady, who had started to look quite nervous at all this talk. “Now he will give you maps'' said Mr Shady “If you give him $5000!”

Part 17: Rubicon Recrossed.

I stiffened. A drunken officer blurting out military secrets could perhaps be explained in a court but giving an officer $5000 for maps is another matter anywhere. In Belarus, procuring military secrets for money carries the punishment of a bullet in the back of the head. Yep, for real.

Also, we didn’t actually need any maps any longer. Pancake Face had just confirmed what we’d seen in the woods. The border was unguarded. Whatever was on those maps showed, it would most likely not be out there in the cold woods anyway. The challenge was to explain this to Pancake Face.

Part 18: Cold Kaluha!

“As tempting as this is“ Per began “The fact is we do not have any money. If anything we would need money from you, to buy the map, and then, what is the point”

“Huh” said Pancake face.

“It doesn’t matter” said Per “the sad truth is that there is a Thomas Ledin concert at Ronneby Brunn tomorrow so….”

Pancake Face rose on wobbly feet.

“Kahlúa!” he said, pointing to the now empty bottle at the table. What did he mean? Had he just lowered his price for the maps from $5000 to a bottle of Kaluha? Or did he simply want to tell us there was an empty bottle of Kaluha on the table?

He grinned in a strange, disturbing way, like all this was just some internal joke.

“Kahlua!” he repeated.

“I suggest” whispered Mr Shady “that if you have any Kaluha, you give it to him”...

Part 19: Swede Sleep!

“We don’t have any damn Kaluha” snapped Per “it was you who brought the Kaluha, and it was he that drank it”.

“I did NOT bring any Kaluha” started Mr Shady, in what sounded like a discussion we didn’t want.

“Tell the gentleman” Hannah interrupted, “that we shall send him five bottles of Poland’s best Kahlúa when we get back”.

She held up five fingers. Mr Shady looked doubtful at them, but before he could translate our offer to Pancake Face, the man handed him the maps, sat down heavily on the sofa and closed his eyes. Did he sleep? We did not stay to find out.

Part 20: More maps

We took photos on the maps, uploaded them to the cloud. Then we threw them away and erased the pictures from our camera before we left. We had to wait four cold hours until the early morning bus that took us back to Poland (we used a little trick with the entry stamp, that we won’t reveal here, since it is still working). All in all it had been a good trip. Problem “A”- the border defences, seemed solved. This meant we only had problem “B”- the airforce and problem “C”, the special air defences of Minsk.

Part 21: Parade party!

One evening when we were discussing these two problems over a bottle of Kaluha, Linda complained about having to get up the next morning.

“You solved it!” cried Per! We looked at Per. Solved what?

He showed us photos of the military parade that is held every year in Belarus on independence day. One Anti-aircraft vehicle after the other driving past cheering people.

“Not very reassuring,” said Linda.

“What” Per said “do you think happens after they have bragged about their invincible army?”. No one answered.

“They” Per said with a smile “celebrate!”

Part 22: Timing Triumph

As Sun Tzu put it: In war, timing is everything. The facts in our case were these:

1) After the yearly 3:rd of July parade, all military leaders of Belarus toast their own greatness in vodka.

2) Military organisations are dependent on a working chain of command. The order to shoot down a plane needs to come from the top.

3) Imagine you were a high-ranking officer in a former soviet country. You have just fallen asleep after a few bottles of vodka when someone wakes you up to tell you a “small aeroplane” seems to have flown from Lithuania and is now circling over Minsk. What do you say? “That’s not possible, let me sleep!” That is at least what the Belarus Air Defence chief answered when they woke him up on the morning of the 4th of July, thereby delaying Belarus's defence for one hour.

Part 23 The Weak!

The bosses of Belarus air defence shared a weakness with their boss. Being raised in an authoritarian system, they instinctively grovel before people higher up in the hierarchy. Despite privately referring to Putin as “the dwarf”, Lukashenko is terrified of him and ready to resort to any humiliation not to be punished. On the other hand, he routinely resorts to surreal over-violence, against anyone unarmed, protesting against him.

Part 24: Purchasing a plane!

Since problem A and B had solved themselves, the only real problem was number C. Minsk’s air defence systems. The people who man these installations are no high-ranking vodka bingers, but soldiers under strict orders: unidentified aircraft nearing the security areas of Minsk are to be shot down. But together with some friends we found a hack. This is quite technical and too boring for the lighthearted tone of this little text, but in essence, Russian anti-aircraft systems are made to discover fast-moving planes made out of metal. If we could just find something not made of metal and then fly really low and slow…

Part 25: Practising parachuting!

We bought ourselves a Jodel 126 old- a very slow, wooden aeroplane. The registration was SE-CEB. Originally designed in the fifties, it has a tailwheel like a WWII plane and is made to land on really bumpy ground, like a gravel road, or a field. As the spring turned to summer, Hannah and I flew through the forests of southern Sweden, landing in meadows, abandoned roads and golf courses. We practised flying really low over rivers and bogs, now and then throwing out some Teddy Bears to happy children. Then came July. Were we ready? It didn’t matter. The parade was in three days.

Part 26: Cumulus chaos

On the 1:st of July, as the rest of Sweden sunbathed and grilled the Swedish national dish: pig-filé, we flew our little plane from Visby to Lithuania where we landed at an old Soviet airfield in Pociūnai. The field is basically one colossal circular lawn, built to let fighter jets take off directly against the wind, regardless of where it blew. Since Russia monitors all flight plans in Europe, we turned off our transponders so that if their defences picked us up later, they at least would not be able to backtrack who we were. The next day Linda and Per arrived. That evening, as we did a final testflight, the wind was strong. When Hannah opened the hatch to drop the bears, the whole aeroplane shook, and we had to close it. We realised we needed some other solution. We just had two days.

Part 27. Kitting the kite!

Per got the idea. Normally it is quite forbidden to modify an aeroplane. But our little wooden plane was classed as “experimental”. So we decided on an experiment. In the late summer evenings in Poucenai, Per and I built a small hatch in the glass of the cockpit, big enough to smoothly disperse 800 bears, but small enough not to catch too much wind. We hoped.

Part 28. Lukashenko's lunacy.

On the eve 3rd of July we sat on a couch at the Pociūnai airfield, eating fish and watching the sun set in a cloud of orange watching Belarusian military parades on the iPad. Truck after truck with anti-aircraft guns. Then we listened to Lukashenko’s speech as he informed his countrymen on the strength of the new unified air defence with Russia! “Belarus is the Shield that will protect the Motherland”. (This was during the days when the poor man still toyed with the idea of succeeding Putin). The whole speech can still be read here. It is pretty touching in its naivety:

Part 29. Fall back plans

After the fish, a friend flew Linda back to Gotland to set up a command central and then, very late in the evening of the 3rd, Per, (and some people we can’t identify) drove a rental car to the small town of Ivyanets (Івянец). It would be risky to be on the ground. Both I and Hannah agreed we would much rather be in the air. But then again, we all have different phobias. Regardless- we needed a person on the ground for two reasons. Firstly, we needed someone to film us from the ground. Secondly if the border defence forces somehow managed to scramble their jets, we could land near Per, jump into his car and….

Part 30. Fall back plans

In the very early morning of the 4th of July, Per and his team set up a small landing strip on a local field north. He put up red cones to mark where we could land. Then he set up a small terminal in the shape of a hidden minibus with polish licence plates in a shrubbery. He even made a small bar in the car with chilled Riesling and Kahlúa. (“If you are forced to land on enemy territory the least you deserve is a drink”, as he put it). While finishing the work he was approached by an employee of the local police, asking him what the hell he was doing putting out red cones at Mr Kravchenkos's field at three o'clock in the morning.

Part 31. Confusion is key.

“Tourist” answered Per “From Holland. Dr Hans Rhubarb is the name. We’re gauging soil structure for the ministry of Agriculture. I would need you to provide electricity.”

He showed him his business card and a printed paper. It had the Ministry of Agriculture and Food of the Republic of Belarus logotype.

Confusion! The most underestimated weapon of war. Imagine this: you are a somewhat stupid police officer in a provincial town somewhere. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, you stumble on a “tourist”. He claims to be “gauging the soil structure”. It doesn’t add up. Why would a tourist “gauge soil structure”? Also: how do you get this verified? Call the ministry of agriculture at 3 am in the morning? To add to the confusion, there is the demand for electricity. In an authoritarian society, people instinctively respond in a certain way to demands. What if Dr Rhubarb is an important man? While contemplating this you notice a small aeroplane flying over your head, throwing out a division of parachuting teddy bears.

Part 32: Mixed Memories

But let’s go back an hour, to Lithuania. We woke up at 5 am in the morning of July 4th. A light rain had fallen during the night, but the skies were blue. After praying and making out, the clock had turned 5.22 before we taxied up on the grass field.

Memory is a strange servant. Sometimes she brings us the most random moment from the past, while refusing to give us life defining moments. But there is one thing that we will always remember, and that is the moments before you undertake something truly risky. I can still remember the exact pale morning light and smell of grass and diesel in the air, as our heavy little plane took off towards the east.

Part 33: Speed = zero.

After about five minutes of pure bliss, I realised we had a big problem. The aeroplane’s ASI stood at zero knots. This was a big problem. Without information on our speed through the air, there was no way of knowing how much petrol we were using. Since the weight of all those darned bears only allowed us to fly with a ⅓ full tank, just enough to get us to Minsk and back, with 30 minutes to spare… In the best case scenario, the headwind would even out as it should mean a tailwind on the way back, but if the wind turned we might be forced to land on the closest field…

Part 34: Balanced Bears

Should we turn back and fix it? No! Time was crucial. The generals in Minsk might sober up anytime. After discussing it with Hannah, we decided to risk it. At 05.42 we turned off all radios and dived to 800 feet. We had discussed this a lot. Since our plane was made of wood, S300 missiles would (theoretically) have a hard time locking onto it. Especially when flying low and slow- something recently shown by the TB2s used by Ukraine. On the other hand, flying too low would alert any potential border guards that we were trying to avoid the radar, and at our speed and altitude they would be able to hit us with a bow and arrow. The next moment we saw the border towers that a few years earlier had shot down that poor balloon…

Part 35: Morning meadows

Sometimes 30 seconds pass quickly. Gliding slowly over guard towers that might shoot at you 30 seconds does not pass quickly. But the closer we got, the more evident it became that our calculations had been correct. These towers had not been in use for a long time. Soon we were flying over the fields and meadows of western Belarus and then over the beautiful forest of Naliboki. After a brief detour south over the Dzerzhinovo Memorial Complex we flew into Ivyanets and towards the church of Saint Euphrosyne. This was our point of no return. The only place during the flight where we would risk using our cellphones to check with Per if everything was ok. As we approached the church, we realised we had three huge problems...

After a brief detour south over the Dzerzhinovo Memorial Complex we flew into Ivyanets and towards the church of Saint Euphrosyne. This was our point of no return. The only place during the flight where we would risk using our cellphones to check with Per if everything was ok. As we approached the church, we realised we had three huge problems...

Part 36: Time problems

The first problem was that we were late. The time was 6.10 Almost 15 minutes later than our worst-case scenario. We must have had a headwind of at least 10 knots, without an airspeed indicator, we did not know. This was a problem both because of the risk of running out of petrol and that some generals would make up in Minsk.

The second problem was that we had no cell phone coverage. Our carrier should work in Ivanyets, but as they say, never bet your life on the information on a Belarusian phone carrier’s FAQ.

The third, and the most acute problem was that we didn’t see Per. He was supposed to stand below the church in a bright red shirt as a sign that everything was fine. We looked. There was no red shirt to be seen.

Part 37: Petrol problems

While circulating the church, I and Hannah made a brief pro et contra. Contra was that an emergency landing without Per would possibly mean jail for the rest of our lives. Pro was that we were halfway done.

While discussing, Hannah tossed bears through the little hatch in the plane, while Per, us unknowingly, had finally gotten away from the curious policeman, and set up the camera in a corner of the square, but not in time to change to the red shirt.

So as the bears started falling, he decided it was most important to catch that moment. Without knowing if everything was ok, he saw us fly onwards, towards Minsk.

Part 38: Morning in Minsk.

We arrived in Minsk at around 6.30 in the morning. Yes, we might still be shot down, but with nothing but a $15,000 plane and some delusional thinking, we had beaten a billion-dollar border defence. We were now in a position where we could drop whatever we wanted on poor old Luke’s head. Whatever happened from this moment- the dictator of Belarus would always know that we had him in our sights, and spared him. With this knowledge, we allowed ourselves to enjoy the early morning sun. It was at this moment, that our portable 121.5 MHz emergency radio started cackling “Minsk here” said a voice with a heavy Russian accent.

“Do you hear us SE-CIB. Squawk 7000 and report your position.”

Part 39: Heading home

The crackle startled us. It was our registration alright. Someone, somewhere, had identified us. We looked at each other. Hannah took the radio.

“Minsk, SE CIB here” she said. “We’ve talked with ECU. Do we have clearance to annul the flight plan to Russian TMA to deliver?”

A proven lie in this situation could be reason enough to shoot us down. But remember what I wrote about confusion? Our statement was gibberish. But there was a method to it. What if we were on some flightplan to Russia. Shooting down some approved delivery flight would NOT look good. Perhaps they should contact someone, to double-check, but who? There was a moment of silence. Then a new, male voice was heard…

Part 40: Heading home

“SE- CIB” said the voice “we don’t see your transponder. Squawk 7000 then land at the nearest available field. This is an order”.

The voice was aggressive with none of the usual calmness of air controllers. Also, this radio controller does not give “orders”. So provoked were we by this lapsus, that we immediately turned 180 degrees, and started flying in the opposite direction. We waited almost five minutes, until we were well over the fields, until Hannah answered. “Minsk” she said “you seem confused. switching to Russian control”. We looked at each other. I turned off the radio.

Part 41: Zen moments

For the last thirty minutes, we flew in complete silence, over lush forests, and morning fogs, as the sun slowly rose behind us. Fata viam inveniunt. Volentem ducit, nolentem trahit. When we landed at Poucenai I had 248 missed calls on my phone. I turned it off, and stepped out on the grass field

Part 42. Per’s problem.

By that time, unknown to us, Per had stumbled on trouble on the other side of the border.Our sources had told him that the border controls towards Poland had been tightened. With this information, Per decided to take another escape route.

As the entire Belarus defence and police force was turning into panic mode, Per drove his rental car straight towards the centre of the whole commotion: Minsk airport. By the time Per arrived it was still two hours until his emergency flight to Copenhagen was due. He didn’t feel like waiting in full view of any police, so he did a typical Per thing. He smoked a cigarette, enjoyed a glass of the best Riesling, and took a nap! Twenty minutes before the gates closed, he put on his businessman-suit jacket, passed through security and ran to the gate. Just in time, he gave them his boarding card under the name of Dr Hans Rhubarb.

Part 43. Lukashenkos

This is not the time to go through all the commotion that followed. Enough to say that Lukashenko flew into a rage and tried to deny the whole thing. But the stream of video clips was never-ending, and people were soon openly laughing. After a humiliating conversation with the Kremlin, Lukashenko finally admitted the flight on July 27th. He then fired Dmitry Pakhmelkin, Belarus air defence chief, and Igor Rachkovsky, the head of the border guards. Finally, in a fit of rage after Per had called him a “clown” he expelled the Swedish ambassador, the most extreme such measure since Belarus’ foundation.

Part 44. Lukashenko's lesson

There is a scene in the movie The Godfather where Hyman Roth tells Michel Corleone that Batista will surely win since he pays his soldiers so well. “So who is paying Castro’s soldiers?” asks Michael.

With this question, we realise something: When someone is fighting for more than money, they are very hard to beat. Belarus and Russia have built a gangster system. And like the homo sovieticus both Putin and Lukashenko are, they deeply mistrust people who can’t be bought. We paid for everything ourselves. This is the first lesson.

Part 45. The second lesson learned.

The history of warfare is the history of creativity. If history shows us anything, it is that the most inventive armies win. Both Belarus and certainly Russia, have a lot of resources. Their problem is that the same authoritarian system that keeps them in power, discourages any creativity and risk-taking. What better proof of this than the fact that a group of people like us, with a budget the size of a used Skoda Fabricia could well have taken out poor Luke with a bomb, if we had wanted. Now imagine what could be done if more creativity entered the resistance. If nothing else this is a rallying cry to use your artistic creativity in the fight!

Part 46. Belarus is in the balance.

So, what about Belarus joining Russia in the war against Ukraine? Don’t worry. At best Lukashenko can offer what Mussolini offered Hitler. A group of badly equipped soldiers in constant need to be rescued from the strange predicaments they will put themselves in. This is not a joke. On the contrary. We risked our lives on the bet that the Belarus military would be just this utterly useless. Since our flight, the combat capacity of Belarus has been reduced further as even more resources have been diverted towards beating up protestors.

Finally, history tells us that an army used to attack unarmed students, often becomes demoralised when enemies shoot back.

PS. At that time, the Western consensus was that “diplomacy” and full trade were the means. We believe zero trade with Russia and Belarus is the solution. Make it punishable by law to buy anything from any of the countries, including all remote work, and the boss-clown of Belarus will fall within months.

Close ALL borders to Russia. Do not let a single person come and go. Do not buy a single thing. Blow up all the LNG pipelines.

See also: We Knew Belarus And Russia's Military Sucked Ten Years Ago.

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