In a world more interconnected than ever, the last week has seen three nations—Belarus, Myanmar, and Iran—grappling with the consequences of diplomatic isolation, internal strife, and technological clampdowns. Each country, in its own way, is wrestling with the tension between projecting strength and dignity on the world stage while facing mounting pressures at home and abroad. The events unfolding across these nations offer a revealing look at how governments seek to control their narratives, manage crises, and, at times, simply keep their societies functioning.
Belarus, long viewed as a pariah in Europe since its contested 2020 election and the subsequent crackdown on opposition, has begun a cautious diplomatic outreach. According to Reuters, Yury Ambrazevich, the country’s top diplomat and newly appointed ambassador to the Vatican, orchestrated a series of meetings with European counterparts from October 6 to October 9, 2025. These overtures, described by the Belarusian embassy as “standard diplomatic practice,” are widely seen by European diplomats as an effort to reduce the country’s international isolation—particularly in light of improving relations with Washington under Donald Trump and the tantalizing prospect of sanctions relief.
Ambrazevich, informally coordinating Belarus’s contacts with Western Europe, emphasized Minsk’s role in Russia-Ukraine talks and broader European security issues. European officials confirmed the meetings, noting that Belarus is keen to leverage any potential diplomatic thaw. Yet, the shadow of sanctions imposed in 2022 over Belarus’s support for Russia’s invasion of Ukraine still looms large, and the country’s officials remain persona non grata within the EU. For now, these meetings represent tentative steps rather than a full embrace by Europe.
Meanwhile, Myanmar’s military regime is battling for legitimacy both at home and abroad—sometimes with gestures that border on the theatrical. On October 16, 2025, junta leader Min Aung Hlaing instructed his ministers to uphold Myanmar’s “dignity and respect” on the world stage, a directive delivered during a cabinet meeting described as preparation for the next government. Yet, as The Irrawaddy observes, such respect has been hard to come by. Nearly five years after the 2021 coup, Myanmar remains sanctioned by the West, barred from ASEAN summits, and diplomatically isolated. Min Aung Hlaing’s regime is left relying on Moscow and Beijing for support, and even those relationships are marked by careful choreography and, at times, uncomfortable dependence.
In a bid to flatter his patrons, Min Aung Hlaing recently declared China’s Lunar New Year a national holiday and praised Vladimir Putin as a “great world leader.” Yet, China’s involvement in Myanmar’s internal affairs has drawn criticism for reducing the country to client-state status, while Indian politicians have provocatively staked claims on parts of Myanmar’s territory. The junta’s efforts to project dignity are undermined by its growing isolation—a stark contrast to the credibility Myanmar once enjoyed under its ousted civilian government.
Domestically, the regime’s rhetoric of peace is at odds with its brutal reality. On October 15, at the 10th anniversary of the Nationwide Ceasefire Agreement (NCA), Min Aung Hlaing admonished ethnic leaders to “only talk about what is possible,” dismissing what he called impossible demands. Yet, even as he spoke of reconciliation, the military was conducting airstrikes and ground offensives in Kachin and northern Shan states, attempting to reclaim lost territory. According to The Irrawaddy, the military recaptured Phawtaw Junction—a strategic crossroads near Mandalay—on October 14, following a major offensive involving airstrikes, drones, and heavy artillery.
Peace, for the junta, often appears to be little more than a stage prop, wheeled out for international audiences while the reality on the ground remains one of relentless conflict. Ethnic armed organizations and resistance forces continue to push for genuine democracy and federalism, but the military insists on disarmament and adherence to its election road map—an ultimatum more than an offer of dialogue.
As if these challenges were not enough, Myanmar is also facing a deepening food crisis. The United Nations World Food Program recently ranked the country as the fifth most food-insecure in the world, with 16.7 million people—almost a third of the population—now acutely food insecure. Min Aung Hlaing’s solution? More chickens, more eggs. At the October 16 cabinet meeting, he proposed that if half of Yangon’s 7 million residents ate one egg a day, the city would need 3.5 million eggs daily, requiring the raising of about 4 million chickens. This suggestion, while mathematically sound, starkly contrasts with the reality of widespread hunger and skyrocketing food prices since the 2021 coup, not to mention the destruction of farmland amid ongoing conflict.
Political maneuvering within the military elite also continues. On October 16, Min Aung Hlaing appointed Lieutenant Colonel Kyaw Zaw Ye, a protégé of his wife, as his new aide-de-camp, replacing Colonel Sein Maung Lin. Meanwhile, former Lieutenant General Thet Pon—sanctioned by the EU for his role in the violent crackdown on anti-coup protesters in Yangon—was named as the Union Solidarity and Development Party’s candidate for Sagaing Chief Minister in the upcoming elections.
Turning to Iran, the aftermath of its 12-day war with Israel in June 2025 has left the country in a digital straitjacket. As The New York Times reports, Iran enforced a near-total internet blackout during the conflict, citing the need to prevent Israeli infiltration. Though authorities have since technically lifted the blackout, internet speeds remain sluggish, online traffic is curtailed, and GPS services are jammed. Satellite internet tools like Starlink have been criminalized, and attempts to circumvent these restrictions are increasingly risky.
The impact on daily life is profound. Basic tasks—finding directions, ordering a taxi, paying for groceries—have become arduous. Abbas, a 71-year-old businessman in Karaj, shared his frustration: “I kept driving in circles. Everybody is lost.” The government, for its part, insists these measures are necessary to prevent the spread of Israeli disinformation and cyberattacks. Sattar Hashemi, Iran’s information minister, publicly acknowledged GPS jamming as a way to stop Israeli drones.
Yet, digital rights experts argue that the restrictions are less about security and more about consolidating control. The shutdown has forced Iranians to rely on domestic internet platforms, which are more easily monitored by authorities. VPN use, once a workaround for accessing international apps, is now largely limited to domestic platforms—raising concerns about surveillance. The crackdown has also hurt businesses, with companies reverting to manual processes as online systems falter. In August, a hundred companies signed a letter demanding the government lift internet restrictions, but the response was a “tiered internet” law, granting faster access to select groups while leaving ordinary citizens in the slow lane.
Compounding the digital clampdown, the United Nations has reimposed sanctions on Iran’s nuclear program, deepening the country’s international isolation. For many Iranians, the new normal is a life lived in digital and diplomatic darkness—a reality that, as one tech entrepreneur put it, is “connected with immense difficulty.”
Across Belarus, Myanmar, and Iran, the stories may differ in detail, but the themes resonate: governments seeking to control narratives, maintain power, and manage crises—often at the expense of their citizens’ freedoms and well-being. As the world watches, the question remains: how long can dignity be maintained in the face of deepening isolation?