While peace talks in Saudi Arabia grapple with Russia’s war in Ukraine, Moscow and its junior partner Belarus are already planning their next military collaboration as Russian convoys are reportedly congregating in Minsk to prepare for Zapad-2025 exercises. Amid this shadow of negotiations and saber-rattling, let’s not forget Alexander Lukashenko’s iron-fisted Belarusian regime, a persistent threat to Central and Eastern Europe. 

Among the victims of Lukashenko’s tyranny are members of Belarus’s Polish and Catholic minority, whose cultural identity has made them targets in an intensifying campaign of repression—a campaign that aligns with Russia’s hybrid warfare against NATO. Two cases stand out as stark symbols of this oppression: Father Henryk Okołotowicz, a Catholic priest, and Andrzej Poczobut, a journalist and activist. Their stories expose the regime’s deep-seated hostility toward freedom of speech and religion. Much the same way that Putin oppresses any religious leaders who oppose him, Lukashenko cannot tolerate anyone that might unite Belarusian Christians against him. 

Father Henryk’s case vividly illustrates Belarus’s ruthless stance toward its Polish community. A priest serving the Polish minority, he was reportedly critical of Lukashenko’s government—a crime deemed severe enough to warrant 11 years in a penal colony for “treason against the state.” His health remains a mystery, shrouded as a “state secret.” The regime offered leniency if he confessed guilt and sought Lukashenko’s pardon, but he has steadfastly refused. Lukashenko appears intent on using him as a political bargaining chip. The Catholic Church, a cornerstone for Belarus’s Polish minority, has long irritated the authorities, and Father Henryk’s arrest sends a message: even religious leaders are fair game, and the West will do nothing.  

Andrzej Poczobut’s story, though different, has garnered greater international attention. A Belarusian-Polish journalist and human rights advocate, Poczobut was sentenced to eight years in prison on February 8, 2023. His “crime” was reporting the truth about the fraudulent 2020 presidential election and championing the rights of Belarus’s Polish minority. Branded a terrorist by the Belarusian KGB (still the name of Belarus’s security service) and accused of inciting hatred, his sham trial was held in secret. He endures torture and prolonged confinement in a punishment cell within a penal colony. 

Beyond these cases, fifteen journalists from Belsat—a Belarusian television outlet based in Poland—also languish in prisons and penal colonies, most facing sentences of eight years or more. These examples reveal a deliberate, systematic effort to erase all traces of Polish culture in Belarus, including the Roman Catholic religion that many Belarusian Poles adhere to. 

This is not merely a byproduct of post-communist chauvinism; Poland, in Belarus and beyond, symbolizes democratic success and resistance to Russian dominance. By obliterating Polish influence, Lukashenko tightens his authoritarian grip on society. Since the contested 2020 election, this anti-Polish crusade has escalated: Polish-language schools have been shuttered, cultural landmarks vandalized, and figures like Poczobut and Father Henryk have been imprisoned. State propaganda casts Poland as a destabilizing force, alleging it seeks to topple the Belarusian regime. 

This crackdown serves both domestic control and geopolitical ends. Lukashenko projects strength to his populace while, in tandem with Vladimir Putin, orchestrating provocations against NATO by targeting Poland and its minority in Belarus. The US State Department estimates that 1,300 political prisoners are currently held in Belarusian jails.  

Yet the international response remains inadequate. Sanctions from the EU and US have stung regime officials but failed to free prisoners like Father Henryk and Poczobut. Though some argue that defending human rights abroad, like freedom of speech and religion, is secondary to the promotion of American national self-interest, this could not be further from the truth. In reality, Lukashenko knows that if civil society is allowed to unify around freely-chosen leaders and ideas, religious or otherwise, it would pose an intrinsic threat to the stability of his regime. Just as Pope John Paul II played a crucial role in the overthrow of the Communist regime in Poland, religion could play a similarly pivotal role in Belarus. 

Lukashenko’s alliance with Russia—highlighted by Belarus’s role in the invasion of Ukraine—further emboldens him, offering military support and a buffer against Western pressure. Sanctions alone are insufficient; Lukashenko has weathered economic isolation before, leaning on repression and Russian aid. The West’s lack of strategy has hindered efforts to protect those persecuted. Why not amplify these stories through global media? Why not exploit Belarus’s trade dependencies to force concessions? The silence of Western leaders risks normalizing this brutality. 

Father Henryk and Poczobut embody more than the Polish minority’s struggle—they represent the universal fight for freedom. The Belarusian regime hopes their names will fade into the shadows of its prisons. We must not let that happen. Their courage demands action—be it grassroots advocacy, creative diplomacy, or louder demands for accountability. The best way to ensure a future Belarusian state that is friendly to American interests is to speak loudly and forcefully about the importance of liberty, and particularly religious liberty, for all Belarusians. As long as Belarusians do not have freedom of worship, Lukashenko’s grip on power will remain unthreatened.