I went to Minsk. I never thought I’d get to see it, especially after my unfortunate encounters with the Russian security and migration authorities. But I was invited by a good friend at the Friedrich Ebert Stiftung and so, I thought, why not try? Aside from the desire to see Belarus, this would be a good opportunity to check my status with Russia. Russia and Belarus share security architecture, among much else, so if I’m on a list in one country I’m on the same list in the other. With an official invitation to enter the country, I thought this would be a good opportunity to see if I could get some clarity on the matter. Trial by fire, in a sense.

The trouble started as soon as they scanned my passport at border control. The uniformed woman in the booth squinted at her screen, then made a phone call. Within a minute a very stern woman came and took me to a corner of the airport and started asking questions. I told her I’d been invited to speak at a conference. I showed them some papers to prove it. The woman disappeared to make some calls, I suppose. I stood there for not too long, all told. Under two hours, tops. I spent the time editing my dissertation. Turns out that being stuck in the Minsk airport, surrounded by green uniformed military police (five of them!), is surprisingly good for the productivity.

Within an hour, a very nice officer – smiling, polite – came to explain the situation. “There’s been a misunderstanding,” he explained. “We’re trying to sort it out now.”

“What will happen to me?” I asked.

“Either we will let you into the country, or we’ll send you back home on the first flight.”

“Ok. When is that flight?”

“Tomorrow morning.” And that’s when he said what I think is the best line from my whole trip. “If we send you back, you’ll spend the night here in the airport, in a cell. I mean, a room.”

“Sounds fine. Will there be food and water?”

“There will be food and water, don’t worry. We’re still trying to sort things out.”

Two things to note here. Number one: I’m definitely on a list, I have no idea if I’ll ever get back to Russia, and this makes me inordinately sad. Number two: Unlike my experience in Volgograd, which was marked by increasing panic, I actually felt surprisingly calm during this ordeal. I don’t know why, exactly, but I wasn’t anywhere as perturbed as in Russia. Maybe because I was sort of expecting this, whereas in Volgograd they banged on my door, woke me up, and hauled me to the station. A big difference, when you think about it.

In the end, they let me in. First they put a stamp in my passport that said “ENTRY FORBIDDEN” in Belarusian, but then they let me in.

It turns out that, aside from the Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, the co-organizer of this event was the organizing committee for the 2nd European Games, which will be held in Minsk this summer. That is to say, I was invited by the Ministry of Sport, as part of a project under the control of the president. There is some clout there.

So the border guards called people, who called other people, who got in touch with one of the organizers, and strings were pulled, favors exchanged (I suppose), and in the end I was officially barred from entry… but let in anyway.

It was lovely in Minsk, and I’m so happy I got the chance to see it. I don’t think I’ll ever be allowed in again, but I am grateful that I got the chance at least once.

I gave my talk in front of a room of mostly government functionaries, including the Belarusian minister of sport, and I spoke about the potential pitfalls involved in mega-events. I was interviewed more times than I can count. And followed around by cameras – not just the secret police type, but actual TV cameras. And I ended up all over Belarusian news. Edited, of course. Anything remotely critical was cut, naturally, but even the more neutral stuff I said was removed. Instead, I was presented as a foreign expert who was bestowing his approval on the preparations. And so my purpose for being in Minsk became clear. This is why they let me in, of course.

In truth, the organizers do seem to be avoiding some typical mega-event mistakes. That’s good to see! In particular they are avoiding the gigantism that is too often seen in infrastructure preparations, and they are using existing infrastructure too, so that’s a bonus. There are problems, of course, and moments to question. But none of those less overtly positive aspects made it into the media coverage.

In the end, I was under observation at all times when in Minsk, and the psychological pressure of that was pretty draining after a while. I was let out of the country, thankfully, because the organizer gave me his business card. I presented this card to the woman at passport control on the way out, and her frown turned to a smile as she waved me through. Like magic. Connections are everything.

Despite being used as something of a prop, I have to admit that I had a good time. And if I’m going to be a prop, I suppose I’d rather be a good prop than a vilified one, as I was in Russia. Obviously I’d rather not be a prop at all, but I’m saying if you had to choose. And I still can’t quite believe that the Belarusian authorities broke the Russian rules and let me in, despite the fact that I’m on the list. The big question now, of course, is how to get off of this list so I can go back to Russia – hopefully sooner rather than later.

Here are some official photos from the Minsk 2019 organizing committee, who had photographers follow us around, documenting me and the other participants and Stiftung staff on our tour of the stadiums.