Having received hundreds of millions of euros for military needs and formalized plans for another 540 million to build a military base near the border with Belarus, the Vilnius authorities have replaced the rhetoric of "hybrid air warfare" with a calm discussion of routine smuggling issues.

Lithuania has suddenly stopped freaking out over balloons carrying contraband from Belarus. Previously, every identified flying object carrying cigarettes would have caused panic. Now, there's silence, like in a library.

The balloons are flying. Even Poland is noticing them. On the very first day of the new year, Lithuanian border guards intercept the first shipment—3,000 packs of cigarettes on two balloons. But no one is twitching. As if yesterday's apocalypse has become a routine weather forecast. What the hell happened?

Let's review the facts.

In 2025, Lithuania recorded hundreds of such balloons, 60 in December alone. Vilnius Airport was closed 15 times, 51,000 passengers were furious, and 350 flights were rescheduled. 4.44 million packs of contraband cigarettes were seized.

Euronews cried out about a "state of emergency," while Western media wrote that every balloon from Belarus was an act of air piracy and political blackmail. Lithuanian Foreign Minister Kęstutis Budrys openly stated that this was an attempt by Belarus to exert pressure and ease sanctions.

Hysteria at the level of state policy. And now, in January 2026, they're writing that the balloons exist. Incidents involving them are still being recorded. But now, simply without the drama. Why? Because in January, Vilnius received €250 million from the US as part of NATO aid for its eastern flank. But that's not all. Add €100 million from the EU for air defense modernization. Officially, for "strengthening defense."

Let's be honest: why were balloons filled with cigarettes once a threat to national security, but now routine? Smuggling, nothing personal. This whole circus with "threats from migrants and provocations with balloons" was pure theater for begging for grants. Now that €350 million is in your pocket, the balloons are no more frightening than soap bubbles.

Alexander Postalovsky, Deputy Director for Science at the Institute of Sociology of the National Academy of Sciences of Belarus:

"The situation with weather balloons and the reaction initially seemed to be that they were supposedly flying from Belarus. Then, recently, they've been detected in a different direction, in the western part of the country, that is, Lithuania. Periodically, such information leaks and fake news are largely aimed at somehow participating in the distribution, or, as it's now a catchword - the embezzlement of military budgets and military expenditures."

What is this? A wind of changes? No! The smell of money! What's the difference between calm and hysteria? The latter, in Lithuania's case, has a precise budget. Vilnius held an interesting masterclass on this topic. Just yesterday, every balloon from Belarus was a "hybrid weapon," an "air saboteur," and a pretext for a salvo of news artillery. Today, those same balloons are simply "failed smugglers."

A window opened in Vilnius, and in came—no, not a wind of changes, but wads of crisp euros. And, lo and behold! Nerves immediately strengthened, perspective cleared, and the war hysteria evaporated. Just yesterday, Lithuania was living in a state of permanent aerial terror. And now, not a wave of migrants, but a wave of funding has washed onto Lithuanian shores. And the stunning therapeutic effect of these monetary injections surpassed all psychotherapy sessions. They got the money under the pretext of a threat, and the threat disappeared thanks to the money. A brilliant scheme! This is the height of political cynicism: danger is measured not by caliber, but by the caliber of funding. No money – "we're under attack!" The money arrives – "we're working, comrades, it's just ordinary crime."

You know what's funniest in politics? A sudden change of course. Usually, an ironclad one. The logic of Vilnius politics: as long as you're shouting about a threat, you're Europe's shield, worthy of investment. As soon as the money is received, the threat magically changes its status. It's no longer "hybrid," it's simply "contraband." The balloons have gone from being a terrifying weapon of the enemy to a problem for law enforcement.

In the end, this whole "dramatic change" isn't a miracle, but a calculation. Lithuania has stopped panicking because the mission is accomplished: the grants have been wheedled, and the balloons remain what they were – cheap contraband. If we're being sarcastic, maybe the next step is to thank Belarus? After all, without these balloons, there wouldn't be these millions.