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Showing posts sorted by date for query AUTONOMOUS WEAPONS. Sort by relevance Show all posts

Saturday, August 29, 2026

The UN and Red Cross Are Calling for Restrictions on AI Drones and Killer Robots

In a world where autonomous weapons can choose targets on their own, data can put us all at risk, a US veteran warns.

August 27, 2026

A Titan Strike unmanned ground vehicle, equipped with a .50 Caliber machine gun, moves and secures ground on Salisbury Plain during exercise Autonomous Warrior 18.Ben Birchall / PA Images via Getty Images

The United Nations and the Red Cross are warning that rapid advances in artificial intelligence (AI) and robotic weapons are bringing the world dangerously close to crossing a moral red line that has inspired dystopian science fiction for decades: the autonomous targeting of humans by deadly machines.

In an appeal to world leaders on August 25, the International Committee of the Red Cross and UN Secretary-General António Guterres renewed their call for a global treaty establishing restrictions on autonomous weapons systems. They warned that the technology behind AI targeting software and unpiloted drones has developed at record speed since the UN and Red Cross first called for such negotiations three years ago.

“At the same time, scientists and engineers developing these systems have themselves raised the alarm,” Guterres and the Red Cross said in a joint statement on August 25. “When the architects of this technology are calling for limits, States cannot afford to remain passive. This year must mark a turning point.”

In other words, the world must act now to rein in what are commonly known as “killer robots” or “slaughterbots” — unpiloted drones, robotic dogs, robot sentries armed with guns, AI targeting systems, and other digitally driven death machines that can identify, strike, and eliminate human beings on their own.

“You don’t even need drone operators; you can just type in a coordinate and not see the implications of what you are doing,” said Rory Fanning, an author, activist, and veteran of the U.S. war on Afghanistan, in an interview.

The world must act now to rein in what are commonly known as “killer robots” — unpiloted drones and other digitally driven death machines that can strike human beings on their own.

Killer robots no longer exist in the realm of science fiction. Autonomous weapons are increasingly being deployed on the battlefield, including in the wars funded and waged by the U.S. in Ukraine and Iran, respectively. While the U.S. and other militaries have flown drones with remote human pilots for years, AI targeting systems are being integrated into drones that can identify, track, and eliminate targets on their own.

“The same technology that brings you an Uber kills somebody in Palestine, and people really need know that and consider that,” Lisa Ling, a U.S. veteran who worked at the Pentagon’s drone program prior to 2012, told Truthout.

In Palestine, autonomous weapon systems are targeting and brutally killing people in Gaza and the West Bank as part of ethnic cleansing campaigns sanctioned by Israel’s far right government. U.S.-based companies such as Microsoft and Palantir face backlash for selling AI targeting platforms to the Israeli military, which has attacked and killed aid workers, journalists, first responders, and health care workers. The UN estimates that 30 percent of the people killed in what is broadly viewed as a genocide in Gaza are children.

Israel’s use of AI tools has contributed to digital dehumanization, the process of reducing human beings to data points used to make decisions that negatively impact their lives, according to the Stop Killer Robots campaign. Like the data sold by brokers to target consumers with specific ads online, the data used for targeting Palestinians is gathered from cellphones and social media, for example.

As Ling points out, a corporate spinoff of iRobot, the company that makes the popular Roomba robot vacuum, became a contractor developing autonomous weapons for the U.S. military in 2016. The spinoff was acquired by Arlington Capital Partners in 2016 for $45 million, but Ling said we should be alarmed that technology in consumer products and autonomous weapons comes from similar sources.


“The same technology that brings you an Uber kills somebody in Palestine, and people really need know that and consider that.”

“Basically, the same company that [made] your Roomba is now a military contractor,” Ling said. “As a technician who worked inside the drone program, I would ask people to look at where the data that is being used for targeting is coming from.”

Matt Howard, the interim organizing director at About Face, an antiwar group for veterans, said Ling and other whistleblowers who previously worked with killer drones for the U.S. military have brought attention to the unique toll that working with such weapons takes on military personnel.

“There’s been a deep cost for people involved in those programs, both in terms of moral injury and trauma,” Howard told Truthout. “AI-driven, cloud-based warfare is this next phase we’re entering, and that has a ton of pretty scary implications.”

There is also a moral cost to the U.S. as a nation of voters. Howard pointed to a 2013 drone strike on a civilian wedding procession in Yemen that killed at least a dozen civilians, and the warrantless execution of a U.S. citizen by a drone strike in Yemen in 2011, as examples of attacks that desensitized the U.S. public to autonomous warfare under President Barack Obama — but had deep and lasting impacts on veterans.

“Americans end up caring less about the legal and moral implications once there isn’t a human being pressing the trigger, or in the cockpit, and it’s not so close to home,” Howard told Truthout. “Our leaders understand how this works and they exploit it — drone and AI-influenced warfare has involved the U.S. more deeply in extralegal warfare with disastrous consequences for civilians in Iran and too many other countries to list.”

On February 26, 2026, the first day of President Donald Trump’s war on Iran, a U.S.-guided Tomahawk missile struck a school for girls near a military facility in Minab, killing at least 156 civilians, including 120 schoolchildren. While Trump and Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth have refused to admit U.S. responsibility, Democrats in Congress are investigating whether targeting AI software built by Palantir with Anthropic’s AI was used in what appears to be a horrific targeting mix-up based on outdated data.


Autonomous weapons remove humans from the decision-making process, leaving algorithms to make life-or-death choices that could cause future conflicts to spiral out of control.

While the U.S. was the first nation to deploy killer drones, the technology has become a sort of equalizer for smaller nations facing off against major militaries. Ukraine’s military became a world leader in drone innovation by fighting Russian invaders. In the ongoing U.S.-Israeli war on Iran, Tehran has strategically deployed cheap drones to attack U.S. bases, deplete stockpiles of expensive U.S. interceptor missiles, and blockade oil shipments in the Strait of Hormuz, leaving Trump and Hegseth looking weak on the global stage.

Howard of About Face told Truthout that autonomous weapons remove humans from the decision-making process, leaving algorithms to make life-or-death choices that could cause future conflicts to spiral out of control. Some analysts fear the destructive potential of AI is on par with nuclear weapons, Howard said, and policy makers must learn lessons from the Cold War, when humanity faced the collective prospect of nuclear annihilation.

“You need people to be able to make the decision not to do a thing,” Howard said. “There are plenty of examples throughout history, including during the Cold War, when a human being decided maybe we are not going to push that button right now … and avoided full-on nuclear warfare.”

In their appeal to world leaders on August 25, the Red Cross and Guterres at the UN said nations must move beyond “incremental discussions” around autonomous weapons and take decisive action now toward global regulations or a treaty restricting their use. Nation-states have a responsibility both to the people suffering under current conflicts and future generations, they said, and negotiations must begin now:


A failure to act quickly and decisively will cost lives. It will leave future generations to inherit a world in which the absence of clear and specific prohibitions and restrictions on these weapons opens the door to practices that would erode the protections international humanitarian law is meant to guarantee … Future generations will ask whether leaders acted when there was still a chance to set limits before these weapons proliferated beyond control.

While it may be a political long shot in an age of rising authoritarianism and AI oligarchs, Fanning said we should demand our leaders establish a global ban on autonomous weapon systems not only to save lives, but also to preserve our humanity for future generations.

“Killing another human being is the most unnatural thing in the world to do, and the only way it can be done is creating distance between the person who is killing and the person who is dying,” Fanning said.

Friday, August 28, 2026

 

EU sea defence: the new race to protect cables, pipelines and trade

Sailor first class Robbe Vanhaecke prepares to hoist the EU flag aboard of the Belgian Navy Vessel Godetia during a migrants search and rescue mission in the mediterranean sea
Copyright AP Photo/Gregorio Borgia

By Elisabeth Heinz & Leticia Batista Cabanas
Updated

Is the deep blue sea the next frontier for defence? Global economies are increasingly dependent on vulnerable subsea data and energy pipelines. So, the EU and its members are shifting budgets towards maritime defence tools.

In just the last decade, the EU has spent almost €118 billion in maritime defence, with a sharp 23.6 percent increase in 2022 after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

Data from the EU Blue Economy Observatory show a sharp rise in domestic maritime defence spending, reaching a record high of €11.6 billion. Submarines alone account for 27 percent of the EU's total production value; the rest includes surface ships, aircraft, and other types of warfare.

The bloc decided to transition from a purely commercial ‘blue’ economy approach to a securitised maritime strategy. In 2023, it updated its European Union Maritime Security Strategy (EUMSS) to protect critical seabed infrastructure.

Then it locked in its strategic defence priorities by launching dedicated European Defence Projects of Common Interest and implementing a Submarine Cable Security Toolbox to counter grey-zone threats and protect underwater networks.

Protecting international trade

The global economy relies almost completely on secure, open seas. More than 95 percent of international digital traffic moves through them. Financial transfers happen through over 1.4 million kilometres of submarine fibre-optic cables, which carry an estimated €9.2 trillion in financial transactions every single day. Approximately two-thirds of the world’s oil and gas is either extracted at sea or transported by water.

80 percent of global trade volume is transported by ocean shipping. For the EU, maritime transport accounts for 75.6 percent of all imports and 73 percent of all exports. It totals around €1.126 trillion in goods annually. A disruption at key maritime chokepoints risks triggering inflation and global manufacturing shortages.

An attack on these sea lanes and underwater assets would paralyse Europe, so it needs more than traditional naval patrols. “Underwater Domain Awareness is a critical activity to know what is happening below the surface, particularly around cables, pipelines and offshore energy infrastructure, prioritising those identified as critical for the security of the Union”, said Jürgen Scraback, Head of the Maritime Domain Unit at the European Defence Agency (EDA).

As threats increasingly come from low-cost drones, uncrewed underwater vehicles and mine warfare, governments are investing in autonomous technologies and surveillance systems. Between 2016 and 2025, the EU's annual production value of crewless vehicles, including aerial and submarine drones, increased by 132 percent to €847 million. Fixed-wing unmanned systems accounted for one third of that output, worth €277 million, while production of traditional unmanned submarine platforms fell by 23 percent over the same period.

Fleet modernisation continues to focus on both conventional naval assets and autonomous platforms. Manned surface ships now account for 65 percent of EU maritime defence vehicle production value and serve as the primary platforms for command, logistics and force projection.

Submarines represent another 27 percent of production, supported by new procurement programmes and investment in next-generation underwater weapons. At the same time, autonomous surface vessels and unmanned underwater vehicles are becoming increasingly important for surveillance, reconnaissance and infrastructure monitoring missions.

EU27 maritime defence industry: production by function of vehicle, 2016-2025

Investments also extend to digital tech for maritime surveillance, with European operators deploying AI-enabled unmanned systems to monitor ports, offshore energy infrastructure, and submarine cables, detecting threats across large areas

For Scraback, “autonomous and unmanned systems combined with AI-enabled data fusion are among the technologies likely to have the greatest impact. They can provide persistent surveillance over large areas without requiring expensive crewed platforms to remain almost permanently deployed”.

How is the EU boosting maritime defence?

The 2014 Maritime Security Strategy guides Europe's maritime strategy, protecting citizens, the economy, infrastructure, and borders, while redefining Europe’s approach to maritime defence.

“The new strategy calls for a greater emphasis on the hard power aspects of maritime defence and security, where the EU had previously faced challenges in establishing a role and identity”, said Chris Kremidas-Courtney, senior advisor at the European Policy Centre and associate fellow at the Geneva Centre for Security Policy. It identifies “the protection of critical infrastructure in the maritime domain as a key priority”, they added.

The Industrial Maritime Strategy, adopted in March 2026, backs this shift. It boosts Europe's naval production through a new EU Industrial Maritime Value Chain Alliance and reinforces naval, underwater, and dual-use capabilities, including a dual-use ferry construction programme.

By July, Europe allocated €325 million to five European Defence Projects of Common Interest, including one maritime and seabed defence project to strengthen its industrial base. Since February, a new Counter-Drone Action Plan has shifted production towards unmanned naval drones and counter-drone systems for aerial, surface, and underwater threats.

The EU funds its naval ramp-up through defence tools, such as the European Defence Industrial Strategy and the €1.5 billion European Defence Industry Programme. The Readiness 2030 roadmap totals over €800 billion, including naval capabilities and sea lines of communication protection.

The bloc also invests in detection and surveillance technologies to fight threats and sabotage to seabed cables. As cables cover large areas, are privately owned and can be easily damaged, “the best approach is a layered resilience system designed to make interference detectable, limit the disruption caused by a successful attack and restore service quickly”, Kremidas-Courtney explained.

This thinking now drives EU policy. The Action Plan on Cable Security (2025) strengthens Europe’s ability to prevent, detect, respond to, and recover from cable incidents that disrupt critical functions like communication and energy supply. The €92 million OceanEye expands maritime awareness using AI, autonomous sensors, and digital twins.

Under Horizon Europe, the UnderSect and Smart Maritime and Underwater Guardian projects invest nearly €6 million each in underwater threat-detection systems for ports and maritime infrastructure. European Defence Fund (EDF) projects, such as SHIELD and SOUND2, develop AI systems to detect threats using underwater acoustic signals.

Ramping up maritime defence goes beyond detecting and repairing cable breaks. For Kremidas-Courtney, authorities should identify behavioural patterns such as unexplained slowing, shipping lane deviations, and manipulation of identification signals.

“The most effective solution to me is an integrated information-and-action network that fuses undersea sensors, AIS data, coastal radar, satellite imagery, intelligence and port records into a continuously staffed existing regional maritime operations centre”, Kremidas-Courtney explained.

Who invests the most?

Between 2016 and 2025, cumulative EU production of maritime defence vehicles and equipment reached €117.8 billion. According to the EU Commission’s Blue Economy Observatory, production remained concentrated in four countries. France, Germany, Italy and Spain together account for 87 percent of the bloc's maritime defence industrial output. The Netherlands, Sweden and Poland contribute a further 8 percent, largely through surveillance technologies and maritime security systems.

In 2025, France generated 37 percent of the EU’s total production of maritime defence vehicles. Germany and Italy each contributed 19 percent, and Spain followed with 8 percent. These four countries accounted for 82 percent of the EU’s total output value and 60 percent of the EU's total defence expenditure. This shows that defence spending remains higher in member states with a long tradition of armaments.

EU maritime defence industry: total output value by member state, 2016-2025, billion EUR

“A few large navies can provide scarce high-end capabilities, but they can’t secure every coastline, patrol the sea lanes, and protect every piece of undersea infrastructure. Europe doesn’t need everyone to build a fleet to match Italy's or France's, but it does need credible, distributed forces connected by interoperable systems and a shared maritime picture. The only way to make that work is a whole-of-Europe approach which includes the UK and Norway”, Kremidas-Courtney warned.

At company level, the France-based Naval Group led with 24 percent of the EU’s total output, producing advanced surface combatants (frigates and corvettes), nuclear-powered submarines, and unmanned surface and underwater systems. Italy’s Fincantieri (15 percent) specialises in warships and underwater defence systems, including torpedoes and sonars.

The German Thyssenkrupp Marine Systems accounted for 8 percent of the EU’s overall market for maritime defence vehicles, focusing on surface vessels and submarine construction. Spain’s Navantia (7 percent) builds multi-mission frigates, AIP-equipped submarines, aircraft carriers and patrol vessels.

The EDF supports European companies in developing joint defence technologies and equipment. It invests €2.7 billion in collaborative defence research and €5.3 billion in collaborative capability development for the period 2021-2027. The 2025 EDF totals €1.07 billion and funds 57 projects, including E-DOMINION, which develops a digital architecture and combat cloud for European navies.

According to Scraback, “we need to continue shifting from fragmented national solutions towards interoperable, scalable and jointly developed capabilities”. He explained that the European Defence Project of Common Interest on Integrated Maritime and Seabed Defence “can be a key vehicle for this, bringing Member States, existing European programmes and investments together under one coherent framework”.


 

EU pours billions into maritime defence as threats to its seas persist

EU.XL
Copyright Euronews

By Evi Kiorri & Mert Can Yilmaz
Published on

From undersea cables to warships, the EU is spending record sums to defend its waters. Watch the video.

The EU is increasing maritime defence spending as threats to its ports, undersea cables and offshore infrastructure grow.

90 percent of EU trade, energy supplies and internet data move by sea. This exposes the bloc to hybrid and cyber attacks, border tensions and infrastructure sabotage, including from Russia.

Brussels updated its Maritime Security Strategy in March 2023 and funding followed. EU countries spent €343 billion on defence in 2024, up 19 percent year-on-year. Equipment procurement jumped 39 percent. Spending hit a record €392 billion in 2025, much of it through the €150 billion SAFE fund under the EU's Readiness 2030 roadmap.

A large share goes to building ships. The bloc's maritime defence industry produced €13.7 billion worth of vessels in 2025, two-thirds surface ships. France, Germany, Italy and Spain accounted for 82% of output. Shipbuilders Naval Group, Fincantieri, Thyssenkrupp Marine Systems and Navantia cooperate on the European Patrol Corvette project while securing multi-billion-euro export deals with Norway and Indonesia.

Which EU countries invest more in maritime defence and why?

German war ship
Copyright AP Photo

By Evi Kiorri
Published on

Europe's naval rearmament is rising. Which countries drive the maritime defence boom and why the map may be misleading.

Europe’s militaries are pouring money into the sea. EU defence expenditure rose to €418 billion in 2025, a 20 percent increase from the previous year, and is projected to reach €454 billion in 2026, equivalent to 2.4 percent of GDP. Maritime defence is one of the fastest-growing sectors. Production of naval vehicles and equipment across the bloc has reached €117.8 billion since 2016, with output hitting €13.7 billion in 2025 alone.

Who’s building Europe’s navies

On paper, four countries dominate that output. France, Germany, Italy and Spain account for 87 percent of the EU’s maritime defence industrial base and captured 82 percent of its total output value last year. France alone produced 37 percent of the bloc’s maritime defence vehicles in 2025, followed by Germany and Italy at 19 percent each, and Spain at 8 percent. Together, the four also account for 60 percent of the EU’s total defence expenditure.

For Christophe Tytgat, Secretary General of SEA Europe, the shipyards and maritime equipment association, that pattern is no accident: “the concentration is real and structural, not incidental,” reflecting decades of naval-industrial history and geography concentrated in a handful of states. Submarines are also a growth area, now 27 percent of EU maritime defence output, with the same four countries producing 93 percent of the bloc’s naval exports.

A skewed picture?

But industrial output isn’t the same as military commitment, according to Chris Kremidas-Courtney, senior advisor at the European Policy Centre, who argues the four-country narrative overlooks some of Europe’s most exposed navies. “Industrial concentration is not the same as maritime-defence commitment,” they said, naming Greece and Sweden as “conspicuous omissions.”

Greece runs one of Europe’s strongest conventional submarine fleets and maintains a demanding operational posture across the Aegean, Eastern Mediterranean and Red Sea. Sweden’s smaller navy is purpose-built for the Baltic and backed by a serious domestic defence industry.

The real test, Kremidas-Courtney says, is integration rather than size. “Europe doesn’t need everyone to build a fleet to match Italy or France, but it does need credible distributed forces connected by interoperable systems and a shared maritime picture”, an approach they argue must extend beyond the bloc to include the UK and Norway.

Measured against GDP rather than raw output, the map zooms towards the east. Poland spends the largest share of any EU state on defence at 4.48 percent of GDP, ahead of Lithuania (4.00 percent), Latvia (3.73 percent) and Estonia (3.38 percent), all frontline states bordering Russia or its ally Belarus. Germany has more than doubled its share of GDP since 2021, from 1.27 percent to 2.14 percent, and aims to reach €162 billion in annual defence spending by 2029.

Tytgat argues neither the industrial giants nor the frontline states can carry EU maritime security alone: “only four EU countries cannot substitute for broad-based EU maritime security, because collective security strategy requires interoperable capability, resilient supply chains and genuine burden-sharing across the whole Union.”

What’s driving this spending

Behind all this spending is Russia’s war on Ukraine and the maritime threats that followed. A “shadow fleet” of sanctioned tankers allegedly used for surveillance and sabotage has put the EU on alert. A series of undersea cable cuts in the Baltic Sea, including the BCS East-West Interlink, C-Lion1 and Estlink 2 incidents in late 2024, pushed Brussels to adopt a Cable Security Action Plan in 2025, alongside NATO’s “Baltic Sentry” naval patrol mission.

The EU revised its Maritime Security Strategy in 2023. The previous strategy was built with a focus on “piracy, illegal fishing, migration flows”; the updated one is built to confront state-based threats, Tytgat explains. He also warns the current strategy lacks teeth: “the tools have multiplied, but the financing and governance architecture to actually translate the strategy into tangible action is still lacking.”

How is the EU helping with funding?

A Commission subsea infrastructure package announced in February 2026 carries €347 million, alongside a separate €92 million ocean-observation initiative launched mid-2026. Tytgat calls both “a first step,” but says the sums are “far from enough if the EU wants to face the daily threats it deals with appropriately.”

Brussels is trying to close that gap through other channels: the €150 billion SAFE loan facility under its “Readiness 2030” roadmap, the European Defence Fund, 68.4% of which has gone to France, Germany, Italy and Spain, and PESCO’s joint shipbuilding projects, including the Italian-led European Patrol Corvette.

In March 2026, the EU also launched an Industrial Maritime Strategy, folding shipbuilding into a bloc-wide industrial framework for the first time rather than leaving it to national champions and earmarked €325 million for naval and undersea defence projects.

The real test for burden-sharing will be when the European Commission releases its progress report on the maritime strategy in October 2026. For now, Tytgat says the EU should focus on ensuring it has “the necessary tools and investment to meet the current challenges it faces in its vicinities but also in all global chokepoints that create threats to the EU's security of supply, trade and economy."


In The Bear’s Paw: How Europeans Can Loosen Russia’s Grip On Belarus – Analysis



LONG READ

August 23, 2026
ECFR
By Vasil Navumau


Key Takeaways:

Belarus has shifted from a relatively stable buffer and Russian rear base into a forward-operating platform for Moscow—hosting missiles, joint exercises, logistics, and hybrid pressure on Poland, Lithuania, and Latvia—raising direct security risks for the EU’s eastern flank.

Broad EU sanctions and isolation have deepened Minsk’s dependence on Russia without adequately addressing the military threat or easing repression of political prisoners and the diaspora.

The paper urges a more targeted EU approach: strengthen border-state defence and deconfliction, keep limited working-level channels, support civil society and SMEs, condition limited engagement on verifiable steps, and treat Lukashenko as retaining some residual agency that can still be pressured away from full Russian satellite status.


A satellite state


Take a map of Europe and find Belarus. Trace a finger clockwise, from the country’s northern borders and around to the east, where Russia is followed by Ukraine, Poland, Lithuania and Latvia. Belarus’s capital, Minsk, is itself almost at the exact geographic heart of the country, surrounded by hills, with vast forests sprawled out like capillaries beyond.

It is from here that Belarus’s longtime leader, Alexander Lukashenko, looks out from his “Palace of Independence” on Minsk’s Pieramozcau Avenue. To the east, in Russia, his fellow authoritarian Vladimir Putin continues to decimate Ukraine from its eastern borders and scheme to undermine European political interests. To the west, stretching hundreds of kilometres past Belarus’s western border with Poland and across Germany, lies Brussels. Faced with instability across the continent, the EU’s capital is increasingly unsure about what to do with its problematic Belarusian neighbour.


The EU downgraded its diplomatic relations with Belarus in 2020 after the latter’s disputed presidential election, which saw Lukashenko’s government violently repress protestors who took to the streets to oppose the president seizing victory by undemocratic means. Although bilateral trade between the EU and Belarus was largely undamaged in the subsequent years, the fall in trade with the bloc after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022 created an economic gap which Russia has exploited. For example, it has stepped up its own trading relationship with Belarus and become a key market for exports of Belarusian goods such as dairy products and petrochemicals—also allowing Moscow to evade EU sanctions. In doing so, Russia filled a vacuum for Belarus; Lukashenko, facing limited alternatives, deepened his dependence on Moscow.

Although Belarus did not formally commit troops to Russia’s war of aggression, it did allow the latter to house missiles, tanks, artillery, helicopters, aeroplanes and other military equipment in its territory prior to the invasion. It also provided military and civil infrastructure for Russia’s use, including airfields, hospitals and railway lines. This year alone, Russia has transferred more missiles—including dual-capable, hypersonic missiles—to Belarusian territory and conducted joint exercises encompassing the Belarusian Armed Forces. This, combined with a breakdown in dialogue between the EU and Belarus, gives Putin yet more sway in his quest to entrench Russia further into Belarusian structures.


Now that Belarus is apparently firmly committed to the supranational union of Belarus and Russia, known as the Union State, it has become a structural security concern for Europe. Russian deployment of nuclear-capable weapons on Belarusian territory makes Europe’s eastern flank more vulnerable, while Belarus’s already tense relations with neighbouring border states Poland, Latvia and Lithuania are at risk of deteriorating further. At the same time, Belarus has 879 political prisoners languishing, with Lukashenko’s regime having essentially outlawed any political or civic activity which the authorities see as a threat.

All this has compounded the breakdown in relations between Belarus and Europe. Russia is further emboldened to entrench its military deeper into Belarusian territory, tighten its economic dependencies and integrate the country further into its nuclear strategy.

This paper examines Belarus’s transformation from a problematic but stable buffer state between western Europe and Russia to a country which poses an increasing military and security threat to the EU. It argues that the EU should move away from relying solely on economic leverage and the blanket application of sanctions—which are pushing Belarus to rely more heavily on Russia—and develop a more targeted approach. Europeans need to actively contain the growing military and nuclear threat by finding new avenues of diplomatic negotiation, and by incorporating NATO-inspired approaches into its defence policy for its vulnerable eastern states.

Perhaps most importantly, Europeans need to assess to what extent they can treat Minsk as an autonomous actor capable of making decisions independently from Moscow. Europeans should take recent developments, such as Ukraine’s discovery of four signal relay stationsin two Belarusian oblasts and their subsequent removal, as proof that Lukashenko retains the authority to make territorial-based decisions—especially under pressure from Russia.


However, for as long as Lukashenko remains in power, Belarus will never be entirely free of Moscow: he is an authoritarian, and Minsk remains sanctioned due to its breach of human rights clauses and mistreatment of its population. Belarus’s geopolitical position is also at least partly down to early decisions that Lukashenko made when he turned towards Moscow in the mid-1990s—a time when most other former Soviet nations chose real independence. Long before 2020, this posture led to missed opportunities with the EU, reinforced Lukashenko’s propensity to commit human rights violations and kickstarted Belarus’s deepening economic and military integration with Russia.

In its pursuit of a new strategy, the EU needs to recognise that—even if Belarus remains a stable, contained buffer zone—the country will not undergo a full democratic transformation. Europeans are thus searching for a Belarus which no longer presents an urgent security threat on its eastern border. They should aim to help shape a country whose stability reduces geopolitical risk without abandoning the EU’s long-standing commitment to democracy, human rights and the well-being of Belarusian society.

Belarus as a security actor


Belarus declared its independence from the Soviet Union in 1991. But, with what Russia perceived as the NATO and European sphere of influence shifting eastwards, Belarus became increasingly valuable to Moscow—especially because of the Suwalki Gap, which lies between the Russian exclave of Kaliningrad and Belarusian territory. The Russia-Belarus relationship became more entrenched once Lukashenko and Putin came to power in 1994 and 1999, respectively. The two leaders are hardly close personal friends—but they have nonetheless developed strong cultural and economic ties based on the similarity of their two anti-Western and authoritarian regimes, and their notion of a shared history.


Over the past 30 years, Belarus has moved closer to Russia in economy, trade and idea sharing. But it has gone beyond simply sharing a similar geopolitical outlook; now it is a militarised actor on the EU’s eastern flank. The first tipping point came with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. At this point, Lukashenko was already politically entangled with Moscow due to its support for Belarus’s trade network and economic sector after Minsk’s break with Europe in 2020. But the invasion meant that Belarus also became entrenched in the Russian military machine: in the early phase of Russia’s invasion, it became a launchpad for Russian ground offensives towards Kyiv and Chernihiv, and for missile strikes and combat aviation operations.

Since this period, Russia has attempted to consolidate its control even further. Now it has approximately 2,000 troops concentrated around air-defence systems, training facilities, logistics hubs and long-standing Russian military installations. Between 2022 and 2023, ammunition transfers from Belarus to Russia exceeded 130,000 tonnes. Since then, joint training centres, storage bases and transport corridors (many inherited from the Soviet period) have been repurposed and modernised under Belarus-Russia Union State programmes to support Russian operational needs. Rail-linked depots, armament storage facilities and training grounds now serve as key infrastructure for Russian forces on its western flank.


The second tipping point came with the two countries regularly staging recurring joint military exercises that institutionalise operational integration, such as the Zapad military drills which have been taking place since before 2022. Now Russia is eyeing up Belarus as a key component of its nuclear ambitions and has also deployed Oreshnik intermediate-range missile systems in Belarus. In April this year, Belarus confirmed it would no longer allow Russian conscripts who desert the military to leave via its border. Belarus is also a staging post for Russian nuclear missiles and joint military exercises.

The country has thus become Russia’s territorial, militaristic and logistical resource, achieved through durability, military routinisation and institutional embedding. The military aspect of this entrenchment is also compounded through hybrid attacks. For example, as early as November 2021 the EU condemned Belarus for facilitating the weaponisation of migrants—predominantly from conflict areas such as Iraq and Syria—who it had apparently encouraged to breach the borders of Latvia, Lithuania and Poland.

This form of hybrid warfare has continued into 2026: recent reports saythat Lithuanian authorities have discovered a cross-border tunnel from Belarus to Lithuania, which they suspect is to continue to facilitate the potential movement of migrants through European territories. Now, with the Union State increasingly functioning as a homogeneous force, there is a threat that Belarus will become more emboldened to facilitate further dangerous hybrid m
anoeuvring. It intends to check Europe’s readiness and destabilise it from the inside.


Belarus as a threat to Europe

The difference in the threat which Belarus now poses to Europe lies in its shift—which has taken place over the past six years—from being Russia’s “rear-operating base” to Russia’s “forward-operating base”.

As Russia’s rear-operating base, Belarus functioned as a non-combat zone for logistics and maintenance. While it supported Russian military activity and provided strategic depth by shifting military infrastructure and combat flashpoints away from Russian territory, as a rear-operating base Belarus avoided deploying its own forces into Ukraine and directly engaging in combat operations. This allowed Lukashenko to avoid many of the challenges that Putin is experiencing, including politically sensitive military mobilisation, high personnel casualties and mounting internal economic pressure. This approach had previously provided Lukashenko with the degree of political deniability and diplomatic leverage necessary to continue negotiating with Western economies on economic sanctions and market access. He was able to point to Belarus’s arm’s-length approach to the war in Ukraine as proof that he was willing to engage with Europeans at a diplomatic and economic level.

However, Belarus’s position has changed since 2022. Evidence collected by the author demonstrates that Russia is increasingly establishing the country as a forward-operating base. Moscow is building on its routinisation and institutional embedding of military infrastructure to deploy personnel on Belarusian territory and undertake recurring joint military exercises, lately including nuclear forces preparation. Minsk’s rhetoric is changing to match these actions. In 2022, Belarus changed its constitution to allow Russia to store nuclear missiles on its territory; in a “Militarization of Europe” meeting held in June 2026, Belarus’s deputy minister of foreign affairs Igor Sekreta said he was “deeply concerned by… military exercises on NATO’s eastern flank” and “the EU and NATO… systematically promoting a militarist agenda at all levels.”


The Belarusian government is simultaneously becoming a component of Russian forward-military position and aligning ideologically with Russia’s view that Europe (and the West in general) constitutes an existential threat. Lukashenko himself reiterated this in May 2026, when he declared that “… [Belarus is] ready in every possible way to defend our common fatherland from Brest to Vladivostok.” The change is especially worrying for Ukraine, which is already fighting a war against Russia on several fronts. Its brow-beaten army could soon be required to deploy yet more resources to another defensive line on its northern border. Belarusian state media have suggested that Putin desires to open a “second front” against Ukraine, using Belarus as a launchpad for further attacks.

Indeed, evidence suggests that Russia is already using Belarusian infrastructure to gain an advantage in its drone warfare against Ukraine: in June 2026, Ukrainian intelligence services discovered four signal relay stations in the Belarusian oblasts of Homiel and Brest. Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelensky, appealed directly to Belarus to dismantle the sites or face potential Ukrainian consequences. The Belarusian president apparently acquiesced—although no public statement or confirmation has been made.

Belarus’s transformation into a forward-operating base was further bolstered in 2023, when Russia deposited tactical Iskander nuclear-capable warheads on its territory. Then, in early 2025, Russia moved Oreshnik hypersonic missiles to a location which experts estimate to be around 60km south of Minsk. This has changed the calculus for the rest of Europe. Europeans must contend with an additional nuclear threat right on its border (aside from Kaliningrad) and consider how this could compromise security along its eastern flank.

Meanwhile, as noted above, Belarus is mixing concrete actions with rhetoric that suggests it sees Europe as a threat to its own sovereignty. In the same speech, Sekreta commented that Poland, Latvia and Lithuania have a combined defence expenditure of €52bn, which is apparently “25 times more than Belarus allocates for defence”. This suggests that Belarus increasingly views European and NATO defence investments through the lens of Russian military planning. If left unchecked, Russian influence will leave EU member states more vulnerable to further hybrid attacks from Union State forces.

For Europeans, there is also potential for escalation in how these border countries respond, and uncertainty about where escalation could lead. For example, the Zapad-2025 military drills, which took place on September 12th 2025, prompted Poland to close its border with Belarus due to “heightened security concerns”. Prior to this, on September 9th and 10th, Russia had flown several drones into Polish airspace during an attack on Ukraine. Lithuania also closed its border with Belarus for a whole month in October 2025 (and refused to enter negotiations to reopen it) after meteorological balloons travelled into its airspace from Belarus. The latter responded by accusing Lithuania of “pursuing an anti-Belarus policy”. Latvia, for its part, is struggling to deal with Belarus’s tactic of sending illegal migrants over its border. As of July 21st 2026, the Latvian government had recorded 8,413 instances of migrants attempting to cross into its territory this calendar year, stirring discontent prior to the parliamentary election in October. The country has also uncovered several sabotage operations that have appear to have been carried out by Belarusian and Russian spies.


European leaders heating up their confrontations in such critical areas is further adding to NATO’s headache. Belarus’s degradation as a buffer zone between western Europe and Russia means the potential for these flashpoints to drift further west is growing, not helped by a continually deteriorating diplomatic relationship between the Lukashenko government and the governments of neighbouring EU states. The proximity of Russian missiles and personnel to European territory could compromise NATO warning systems; it also suggests that the Union State is becoming increasingly willing to test European responses to its increasingly integrated deterrent.

Now the EU needs to reconfigure its strategy towards Belarus. The goal should be to ensure that Lukashenko does not limit his room for manoeuvre so much that he has no choice but to descend into a fully armoured satellite state; and that he has no choice but to react to any order Putin gives.


What Europe is doing…


On sanctions

Since Belarus’s flagrantly undemocratic 2020 presidential election, which sparked the country’s largest political crisis since independence, the EU and Belarus have downgraded their diplomatic relations. This is a cycle which Europe and Belarus have found themselves in since at least 2006: repression conducted by the regime triggers sanctions and isolation from Europe, which are followed by limited thaws and diplomatic re-engagement, which are then interrupted by renewed crackdowns—and so on. This time, however, the diplomatic downgrading was mutual: Lukashenko made Poland and Lithuania’s ambassadors leave Minsk in October 2020, and requested the EU ambassador return to Brussels.

In 2021, following Lukashenko’s contested re-election, Europe’s approach became more actively political. Belarusian opposition leader Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya lobbied European governments to move beyond broad economic measures, such as existing targeted sanctions, to adopt harsher and broader sectoral sanctions. These were directed at, for example, specific officials, judges, prosecutors and police officers responsible for repression of Belarusian citizens. Belarus, for its part, suspended participation in the Eastern Partnership, an initiative which aims to strengthen political and economic relations between the EU, its member states and the partner countries of Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Moldova and Ukraine.

Europe’s response remains to take a blanket approach to sanctions towards Belarus. It reinforced its sanctions cycle even after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022 and the EU’s approach to Belarus is embedded within its anti-Russia packages. This means that the EU not only targets individuals involved in conflict operations, but also bundles Minsk in together with the trade restrictions, export controls and financial measures which it aims at Moscow. Europeans have fallen into the trap of treating their Belarus policy as an extension of their Russia policy, although some politicians—including French president Emmanuel Macron and, back in 2021, former German chancellor Angela Merkel—have also pursued limited efforts to test whether targeted incentives could shape Minsk’s behaviour.


However, some EU sources say that Minsk is an unwilling negotiating partner. It remains to be seen whether it will be explicit about the desire to reshape engagement with Europe. As of 2026, EU–Belarus relations remain largely frozen. They have seen only minimal diplomatic engagement and sustained sanctions, and only limited, transactional contact has emerged—for example, in negotiations over political prisoners and technical discussions over border management. In its latest sanctions announcement, the European Council extended its sanctions regime against Belarus until 2027.

The EU is thus in a difficult position when it comes to pursuing normalisation with Minsk. Since Europe’s Belarus policy is considerably shaped by Belarus’s neighbours, Lithuania and Poland—and Vilnius is especially reluctant to open any dialogue with Minsk—other member states are less emboldened to force through normalisation policies which are at risk of simply being blocked. What is clear is that, unless Belarus makes clear improvements in its human rights conditions and clearly distances itself from Russia’s war in Ukraine, European policy will remain structured around three aspects: progressive sanctions targeting regime elites and key economic sectors; political non-recognition of the legitimacy of Lukashenko’s rule; and support for Belarusian civil society and exiles.

Another problem for Europe is that continuing to heavily limit industrial trade and the transfer of dual-use goods and military equipment to Belarus could see Lukashenko rely more heavily on Putin’s open markets. But, if Europeans do not pursue sanctions, they indirectly aid Russia: Lukashenko supports Russia’s war against Ukraine by selling military and dual-use goods to Russia, thus helping it circumvent sanctions. This, in turn, creates a cycle of obligation whereby Minsk acquiesces to future military requests from Moscow and Russia further entrenches along Europe’s eastern flank.

The EU approach broadly treats Belarus as a subsidiary of Russia and narrows Europeans’ ability to develop a tailored security policy which directly targets Belarus as a forward-operating base. As things stand, sanctions on the economy and trade are not adequately addressing the developing threat that Belarus poses to European security. And they do not help alleviate the suffering of the ordinary Belarusians at home and in exile.

On the diaspora


Since 2020, Lukashenko has stepped up his repression and exile of Belarusian civil society actors opposed to his regime. Evidence collected by the author through focus groups carried out for ECFR suggests that, for Belarusians, exile is no longer perceived as a temporary or marginal condition. Rather, it has become a structural feature of Lukashenko’s authoritarian governance. Participants consistently described forced migration as a way for the Lukashenko regime to externalise dissent to maintain internal stability. The government pushes out political activists, journalists, researchers and civic organisers to reduce domestic pressure, while the regime projects an external image of control and normalisation.

This means that Belarus has shifted much of its political contestation into European societies. As a result, the EU has faced myriad challenges related to diaspora governance, transnational repression (including surveillance, intimidation, pressure on relatives and legal harassment across borders) and social cohesion. The EU has, particularly after 2020, provided unprecedented political recognition and support to Belarus’s democratic forces, including security guarantees and sustained funding. For Lukashenko, exile therefore functions as a strategic arena.

How Europeans govern this space—through legal regimes, funding structures or protection mechanisms—directly shapes whether repression through exile succeeds as a long-term strategy.

On its foreign policy approach

The EU’s treatment of Belarus as having limited sovereignty over its foreign policy is also at odds with the US approach. Washington’s current relationship with Minsk is based on President Donald Trump recognising Lukashenko as legitimate, and the US agreeing to negotiate sanctions relief in exchange for the release of political prisoners. America still casts Belarus as a strategic adversary; but it nonetheless accepts that the country needs careful handling to safeguard American and NATO interests in Europe. EU member states, which eye Washington’s approaches to Minsk with caution, have ramped up their scepticism further since Lukashenko joined Trump’s questionable“Board of Peace” (despite the Belarusian leader lending credence to Moscow’s campaign in Ukraine).

Overall, America is searching for “visible deals” whereby it can secure humanitarian wins via economic channels. The clearest example of this is its pursuit of calibrated sanctions relief: in 2025, Belarus released 123 political prisoners in return for the US easing sanctions on the Belarusian potash industry. And it could be argued that this has paid some dividends: lifting sanctions on Belarus helps ease the domestic economic pressure on Lukashenko, which leaves him less dependent on support from Russia for trade.

However, the thaw in America’s approach does nothing to address Belarus’s increasingly entrenched role as a Russian military staging post. Indeed, no approach taken by any American president ever has. And while former president Joe Biden synchronised Washington’s policy towards Belarus with that of Brussels, under his successor, Trump, the two approaches are disparate. Of course, the US does not have the major consideration of the security challenges which Belarus poses to Europe’s borders. But this divergence between America’s prioritisation of transactionalism and the EU’s prioritisation of security will only grow in the absence of a coordinated transatlantic frameworktowards Belarus.

There also exists the possibility that Lukashenko could exploit the gap between America’s leverage-based approach and Europe’s risk-based approach, to play each side against the other. From the US, Lukashenko has already achieved incremental sanctions relief and diplomatic rehabilitation while continuing to align Belarusian security with Russian territorial involvement and pursuing domestic repression. As it stands, all signs point to US bargaining having no impact on Belarus’s strategic alignment or its military cooperation with Russia. Human rights abuses remain.


What Europe can do next


Europe’s continued policy of isolating Belarus and imposing sanctions is turning the country towards Russia as a more attractive option for trade and investment. However, Europeans cannot simply restore diplomatic relations, even to their pre-2020 iteration: they need to hold Lukashenko accountable for his disregard of democratic norms and civilian abuse, and accountable militarily for his assistance to Russia’s war in Ukraine.

This requires developing an alternative approach which goes beyond the current binary choice of engagement or isolation and identifies as a priority exactly the type of Belarus that Europeans want to—or are willing to—work with. Europeans need to examine existing EU and US approaches to Belarus, and discover where Lukashenko could exploit gaps in their divergence—and where room for leverage and leeway exists.

This also requires Europeans to understand the type of pressure that Russia is exerting on Belarus. It is true that Russia continues to provide loans to Belarus, open its market to sanctioned Belarusian goods and give Belarus access to infrastructure through which it can continue exporting goods to Brazil, China and India. But this is illusory: Russia exerting “real” pressure would amount to trade wars, blockades of Belarusian goods, cutting off financial aid and propaganda attacking Lukashenko. Putin has exercised similar measures before, when Moscow was unhappy with Minsk. Now, in 2026, their actions might be well coordinated, but Russia has not established any real economic, financial, military, informational or political coercion against Lukashenko and his government.

Europeans could use this distinction to consider the type of Belarus they want to shape. This should be a Belarus which has secure, meaningful economic alternatives to Russia; a Belarus which sees the geopolitical and economic sense of having a choice of trading partners; a Belarus which has functioning communication channels. Overall, Europeans should expect that their future relationship with Belarus will go beyond mere transactionalism and value the voices of those who Lukashenko continues to silence. Europeans should seek a Belarus which retains a degree of political room for manoeuvre away from Putin’s military and political influence. The following recommendations set out how it can achieve this.

Support eastern border states

The EU has already made progress in strengthening its defence security arrangements for its eastern flank. For example, the 2022 Strategic Compass aimed to prevent crises in states most vulnerable to Russian (or indeed Belarusian) encroachment, and the EU has developed a targeted “Communication on the EU’s Eastern Regions Bordering Russia, Belarus and Ukraine” (or “Strong regions for a safer Europe”) programme. This includes the five priority areas of security and resilience; growth and regional prosperity; building on local strengths; connectivity; and empowering its people. The bloc is also channelling funds into shoring up transit routes and financing, including the customs infrastructure along its eastern border which is a target for Russian and Belarusian interference.

However, the EU should more deeply incorporate its support for states that border Belarus—which are facing hybrid pressure, border incidents and spillover risks—into a defence strategy which builds on the NATO model, particularly in its approach to deconfliction. This would mean better aligning military preparedness with diplomatic signalling and crisis-management channels.

For example, NATO maintains a partnership with the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe which promotes risk-reduction frameworks and transparency measures among signatory states—including the Vienna Document, which has been signed by the US, all European nations and Russia. Europeans could establish a similar partnership with selected states which builds on Lukashenko’s willingness—up to now—to notify his Western counterparts about activities such as Zapad military drills, where in some instances he has even invited them as observers.

Strengthen connections inside Belarus

To go one step further, however, Europeans—and especially EU border states—should maintain established working-level diplomatic contacts in Belarus, especially those located at EU member-state embassies in Minsk. These could also be third-party intermediaries or use technical-level communication formats, such as hotlines, to relay information about military movements or developments.

This could also rely on trusting selected contacts inside the country itself: for example, there are several initiatives which hold meetings which bring speakers and thinkers together to share both Western and non-Western perspectives, including from inside Belarus and Russia. By acting as a conduit for open communication—and by remaining open and depoliticised—protecting such channels encourages a more open dialogue. This, in turn, mitigates the risk of miscalculation and helps develop a diplomatic environment in Belarus which is less dependent on the relations created through the Union State. The aim for Europeans should be to build a pro-EU constituency inside Belarus through democratic initiatives—not with the intention of overthrowing the regime tomorrow, but rather to embolden those who see it in their interest for Belarus to have normal working relations with the EU.

Europeans could also continue to financially support or work with Belarus’s small- and medium-sized businesses, both inside and outside the country. Directing economic support and capacity building to enterprises within its borders would strengthen the country’s independent economic capacity by allowing it to gradually decouple from other trade relationships. At the external level, in 2022 the EU and the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development pledged €4bnfor SMEs which had relocated their businesses abroad. The EU should explore ways in which it can strengthen Belarus’s SMEs inside the country, to help build a constituency which sees partnership with the West, not just Russia, as an advantage.

Opportunities exist for cooperation at the non-profit level, too. While not directly related to European security policy, concerted work by the EU to fund Belarusian NGOs and support apolitical initiatives can help strengthen the country’s national identity and foster conditions for a more fruitful working relationship. Europeans can connect with Belarusian youth and help shape a more democratic future of Belarusian leaders through the funding of communal projects such as Erasmus+ and the European Solidarity Corps for Belarusian students.

The European Commission is funding ArtPower Belarus, in collaboration with the Belarusian Council for Culture and Danish Cultural Institute, from 2022-2028. This demonstrates how outreach in Belarus—with willing internal institutions—can forge a common sense of purpose and prevent the “othering” of either side. The EU should continue to strive for flexible support for civic and political activism, especially at the grassroots level, through institutions such as the European Endowment for Democracy.
Engage with the Belarusian diaspora

Europeans should treat the Belarusian diaspora as a “strategic constituency” and help secure their participation in national and international civil life. For example, despite Belarus’s exit from the Eastern Partnership, the country’s civil society remains active in the initiative. This political knowledge and organisational capacity are vital for educating Europeans and ensuring that Lukashenko’s approach does not condemn the country and its people for any longer than it already has. Indeed, the EU needs to ensure that the Belarusian diaspora remains at the forefront of its policies regarding safe migration and access; it must avoid inadvertently reinforcing the regime’s strategy of repression through exile, lest any temporary or fragmented protections undermine diaspora members’ political and institutional capacity.


The EU should prioritise legal stability and predictability for Belarusian exiles. Where possible, longer-term residence pathways, access to labour markets and recognition of professional qualifications should be expanded and harmonised across member states. Indeed, Europeans need to take transnational repression seriously as a security issue, not only a human rights concern. Surveillance, digital harassment, pressure on family members remaining in Belarus and alleged monitoring activities in EU states challenge European sovereignty and social cohesion. To counter this, the EU should keep pursuing democratic initiatives such as the project “Towards a Local Democracy Agency (LDA) Belarus in Exile”. Its establishment has helped reinforce the notion that exile is not a temporary condition and encourages the need for “sustainable democratic infrastructure” which supports communities in exile. Addressing these practices strengthens both diaspora resilience and internal EU security norms.

In the long term, the EU should introduce more permanent diverse and sustainable funding streams, and move away from reliance on emergency or externally volatile sources. While several exile-based civil society institutions have benefited from multi-year EU funding frameworks—and the EU has committed €200m since 2020 in supporting the Belarusian people—recent reductions in US assistance have exposed structural vulnerabilities. The EU needs to use such funding streams to support independent media, research organisations and civic initiatives in exile, since they are repositories of political memory and organisational capacity.

Europeans should also continue to engage with Belarus’s political opposition on a more formal level, rather than treating it as a protest movement. For example, they generally treat Tsikhanouskaya as the de facto leader of Belarus from her base in Warsaw. This gives Europeans access to a political figure with different views and priorities, and could see the two sides shape future engagement with Belarus via insights from the country’s more civic-minded, democratic channels. The EU should be wary of treating her as the sole alternative to Lukashenko, especially because it is unlikely that Tsikhanouskaya will be installed as his successor—but openness to her influence will bolster trust between Europeans and Belarusian exiled civic society. It will also provide EU member states with an understanding of how the Belarusian state works.

Link diplomacy with action


EU engagement should focus on areas where European interests are directly implicated and where limited leverage still exists. Recent developments, including prisoner releases secured through negotiations with the US and Lukashenko inviting Western officials to observe military drills, suggest that Minsk remains open to selective forms of engagement.

But while targeted incentives can produce limited concessions, the EU should avoid simply replicating the American model. Instead, the bloc must approach conditional engagement as a security instrument rather than simply a human rights policy. Unlike Washington, it has long-term security interests in Belarus—regional stability, border security, migration management, securing its eastern frontier—and needs engagement to be more strategic than transactional.

Europeans should therefore try to couch any diplomatic, economic or symbolic concessions (such as forming high-level diplomatic contacts, limited sanctions relief or participation in dialogue formats) in measurable and verifiable actions. These could include independent verification of the release and treatment of named political prisoners, a sustained halt to politically motivated detentions and access for international humanitarian organisations.


This could build on Lukashenko’s demands for sanctions relief in exchange for Belarus releasing political prisoners and ceasing its aggravation towards Europe’s eastern borders by making such concessions with the conditionality just described. Such engagement with Belarus could help generate durable behavioural change and address underlying sources of regional insecurity.

Untangle Minsk from Moscow

Europeans can also adapt their approach to Minsk based on how America treats it: as a viable, autonomous actor, not an extension of Moscow. The fact that negotiations between Trump and Lukashenko led to the release of prisoners—albeit with hundreds still being held—suggests that the Belarusian leader remains sensitive to economic pressure and to the optics of his own international legitimacy. Trump’s recognition of Lukashenko as Belarus’s legitimate president has only served to reinforce the latter’s willingness to reestablish closer contacts between Minsk and Washington. The US can use this thaw to its advantage to leverage selective sanctions adjustments (for example, easing restrictions on Belarusian potash exports in response to global fertiliser market pressures) and further widen Lukashenko’s limited transactional opening.

Europeans should consider whether closer coordination with Washington, whereby both camps identify common red lines and incentives for better diplomatic ties with Minsk, would deter potential coercion by Lukashenko and prevent him playing the US and Europe against each other. Indeed, the two erstwhile allies finding common ground in their strategy towards Belarus could secure further progress on humanitarian issues and demonstrate to Lukashenko that the US remains key in the protection of Europe’s eastern frontier. It is worth noting that, in this event, the EU should strongly articulate its own priorities—particularly regarding border security and societal agency—and pursue pragmatic coordination at the level of officials, agencies and technical experts.

A practical example of Belarus demonstrating more autonomy is the recent ultimatum proposed to Belarus by Ukraine. Zelensky’s bold statement over the four signal relay stations in Belarus led to their quiet removal (or they were at least turned off), suggesting that Lukashenko can roll back certain decisions—even on military issues. And, even if reports that it was in fact Ukraine which destroyed them are true, Lukashenko has accepted this development without retaliation. His response suggests that he fears the consequences of escalation from Ukraine and other Western allies. But it also supposes that Putin is not yet able to dictate Lukashenko’s every move, not even in zones which Union State forces could view as fundamental to ensuring their continued sovereignty. This episode shows that Lukashenko still retains meaningful room for manoeuvre even in matters of security, and that calibrated pressure from neighbouring states can shape his decisions.

Europeans should exploit this hint of residual agency to discover in which other areas Lukashenko retains an interest in limiting escalation or preserving his room for manoeuvre. They should determine in which other areas calibrated diplomatic and economic pressure could shape Belarusian behaviour and complicate Russian military planning. This could help decouple Belarusian decision-making from Russian power structures and isolate Lukashenko into a more favourable position for further negotiations.

Shaping stabilisation on European terms

By reducing the opportunities for Russian coercion and Belarusian-enabled hybrid pressure on the eastern flank, Europeans can better counter the impact of Russian entrenchment on their neighbour. But Europeans should not frame the recommendations as a part of a rehabilitation for the Belarusian regime. Rather, these policy suggestions should function to safeguard against further deterioration of the stable buffer zone that Belarus once provided for western Europe. Most importantly, they need to address the Belarus that has been created since 2020 and seek to prevent its further entrenchment as a Russian satellite state.

To achieve this, the most important thing Europeans can do is move beyond the false dichotomy between isolation and engagement. Europe can still rebuke Belarus as an externally managed satellite state, for example by disavowing the Lukashenko regime, while providing incentives which help it shape the conditions under which stabilisation unfolds. Europe cannot force rapid change in Minsk’s strategic alignment, but it could help prevent the complete consolidation of a security order in which Europe has no voice.

Europeans should also focus on how their approach to Belarus differs in the short and the long term. In the short term, Europeans need to prioritise preventing Russia’s military configuration in Belarus from becoming permanent and irreversible, and work to limit the extent to which Russia has entrenched itself into Belarusian military institutions. They should aim to separate Belarus from Russia as much as possible by ensuring that Moscow ceases stationing its weapons (conventional or otherwise) on Belarusian territory. At the same time, Europeans need to be aware of continued escalation, such as further military deployments on Belarus’s territory, applying hybrid pressure on member states or facilitating cross-border incidents.


In the long term, Europeans should not aim for Belarus to be aligned with the West; nor should they expect that their intervention will transform Belarus into a democratic state. But the EU should work towards Belarus becoming a country that is sovereign enough to resist becoming a permanent forward base for Russian power, and open enough to maintain a managed relationship with both Europe and Russia. Ideally, Belarus should become sovereign enough that it can make rational decisions—based on the best interests of its country and its people—regarding with which power it wants to be aligned.

As it stands, Russia’s war of aggression in Ukraine shows no signs of abating. America, for its part, is increasingly reluctant to fund deterrence in EU countries, including those which border Belarus. It is, under Trump, using economic and political posturing to exert pressure on the Lukashenko regime. But Europeans can still find the avenues of cooperation which still exist in the allies’ fractured relationship. Most importantly, the EU needs to grant a degree of agency to its most problematic neighbour.


About the author: 

Vasil Navumau is a former visiting fellow at the European Council on Foreign Relations. He now works as a researcher at the University of Siegen, where he focuses on civic activism in eastern European countries, particularly Ukraine and Belarus, and its transformation via information and communication technologies.

Acknowledgments:
 The author would like to thank Pavel Slunkin and the ECFR editorial team (in particular Amy Sandys and Portia Kentish) for their valuable input and suggestions, as well as Nastassia Zenovich for her graphics.

Source: This work was published at ECFR and produced as part of the project “Portrait of Exiled Belarusians and the Role of Belarus in Russia’s War on Ukraine”, financed by the European Union under the EU4Belarus – Support to Advanced Learning and Training (SALT II) programme.

The European Council on Foreign Relations does not take collective positions. ECFR publications only represent the views of their individual authors.

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