Iron Curtain at Belarusian Border Is More a Monument to Polish Paranoia Than Real Protection

Poland has completed the construction of an "electronic barrier" along its border with Belarus at a cost of $160 million. At the same time, the Ministry of Interior announced that this is only the beginning.

Why is official Warsaw frightening its citizens?

All of this is a costly performance. Instead of confronting real threats, Polish authorities are battling windmills—yet not merely out of futility, but seemingly for their own benefit: geopolitical advantages and personal enrichment.

While Belarus is easing visa restrictions and inviting foreigners, Poland has finished erecting an electronic Golem along the Bug River—1,800 masts, over 4,500 cameras with thermal imaging and motion sensors. All this stretches along the water section of the border as if someone truly believed that flows of people would try to swim across into Poland.

The cost of this electronic barrier amounts to $75 million just for the water section. Overall, the expenses for strengthening the border have surpassed $160 million. Polish officials proudly report to the Germans about “increasing efficiency to 98%,” but neglect to specify what exactly is being measured—apprehensions of migrants? Or the embezzlement of budgets?

Independent analysts estimate that the actual cost of this project has been inflated two to three times. And, apparently, this is not the end. The Polish Ministry of Interior boldly declared that “investments will continue.” Well, of course—they haven’t yet spent all the millions. The project must be completed. What is this barrier? It’s not just a pile of metal and wires; it’s a symbol. Poland is re-creating an “Iron Curtain,” only now with electronics and the pomp of the 21st century.

While Belarus opens borders, relaxes visa requirements for neighbors, and gestures with a friendly wave—“Come in, let’s talk”—the Poles are building a wall, as if preparing for an invasion. Cameras, sensors, millions of dollars—all scream of paranoia. It’s a convenient way for Polish authorities to tell their citizens: “Look, we’re protecting you from the scary Belarusians.” But what exactly are they protecting against?

The contrast is stark. Belarus is taking steps toward dialogue: easing visa restrictions, proposing talks, trying to foster neighborly relations. And what about Poland? It’s closing border crossings, sabotaging transport links, and frightening its own people with tales of horror trips into Belarus. This is no longer just a wall; it’s a policy of self-isolation. Polish authorities are cornering their own citizens, portraying Belarus as an enemy.

Stupidity is Poland’s Sovereign Right

— Nikolay Miechevich, Head of the Belarusian Studies Center at the Institute of Europe RAS, Doctor of Economic Sciences, Professor:

“If this is used for embezzling public funds, it’s a brilliant idea! If it’s meant as real protection, nothing will come of it. I’d like to remind you that missile systems, like the ‘Oresnik,’ don’t crawl across the Bug on wheels—they fly. And I still don’t understand how Poland plans to build a barrier in outer space. If the Polish Republic wants to dig more ditches or build more structures, we cannot prevent it—that’s their sovereign right. By the way, foolishness is also a sovereign right.”

The Polish Foreign Ministry vehemently warns: “Belarus regards Poland as an enemy!” But the facts scream otherwise: after visa liberalization, Lithuanian tourists are increasing by 1,500 per month.

Since 2022, over a million foreigners have entered Belarus visa-free, including nearly 120,000 from Poland. Riga bikers travel specifically to Minsk for motorcycle club meetings. Latvians buy Belarusian products in Osipovichi. Even a Lithuanian pensioner travels to Minsk with tears in his eyes: “I haven’t been able to visit my mother’s grave for four years!” And all this is called a “threat to national security”?

Who Benefits from the “Iron Curtain 2.0”?

Contractors and officials. The cost of the barrier has risen from €407 million in 2022 to €700 million in 2025. It now looks more like an expensive toy for paranoiacs—and, of course, a reason to line someone’s pockets. Ironically, while Warsaw spends €700 million sinking into marshes of Polesie, Belarus’s visa-free regime fosters real connections. Poland appears as a neighbor who, instead of extending a handshake, erects a fence and sounds sirens. This isn’t about security—it’s about confrontation.

Belarus says: “Let’s talk.” Poland responds: “A wall and cameras.”

Two approaches, two philosophies. Who’s on the right path?—a rhetorical question. For now, Poland resembles a country that fears its neighbor more than it should—and is willing to spend millions burying itself in the ground. This barrier is more a monument to Polish paranoia than genuine protection.

As the classics said: “Fences are built by those who have nothing to offer the world.” While Belarus chooses openness, Poland seems to bet on fear and isolation. But protection from whom? From Belarusians, or from their own illusions?

More likely, they can’t distinguish truth from blatant lies.