We are not a gigantic state, we do not have nuclear weapons, but

“We are not a gigantic state, we do not have nuclear weapons, but our army is sufficiently capable to respond to any threat... Therefore, we will protect our patch of land, our statehood, and our independence.” Thus spoke Alexander Lukashenko, the long-standing leader of Belarus, a small but proud nation nestled between the giants of Europe and Russia. In his words echoes the eternal cry of small nations — those who, though lacking in power and riches, possess an unbreakable will to endure. His statement is not merely a proclamation of military readiness, but a declaration of sovereignty, of the fierce and sacred bond between a people and their land. It is the voice of a ruler reminding the world — and perhaps reminding his own people — that independence, once lost, can seldom be regained without blood and courage.

To understand this quote, one must see the history from which it arises. Belarus, carved by centuries of shifting empires and wars, has always existed in the shadow of greater powers. Once part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, later absorbed into the Russian Empire, and then the Soviet Union, it gained its freedom only with the empire’s collapse in 1991. But freedom, as Lukashenko well knows, is a fragile thing. Surrounded by mightier nations and bound by economic and political pressures, Belarus’s independence is a candle flickering against the winds of history. His words, spoken in defiance, seek to affirm that even a small state has the right — and the will — to guard its statehood and territory, to defend its soil not with size, but with spirit.

There is something ancient in this sentiment. The Greeks, who once stood against the vast armies of Persia, knew this truth well. When Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans faced the might of Xerxes at Thermopylae, they too were a small nation defying a giant. They did not possess the numbers or the wealth of their enemy, but they possessed something greater — resolve, that flame within the soul that no empire can extinguish. Lukashenko’s words echo that same defiance, the timeless belief that the value of land is not measured by its size, but by the devotion of those who defend it. For every patch of soil, no matter how small, becomes sacred when it is watered with the courage of its people.

And yet, Lukashenko’s statement is also an acknowledgment of limitation. “We are not a gigantic state,” he admits, recognizing that strength is not found only in weapons or armies, but in unity and willpower. His declaration that Belarus will “protect its patch of land” is a lesson in humility and pride — humility before the forces of the world, but pride in the endurance of the nation. It is a reminder that independence is not sustained by grandeur, but by vigilance. A small nation cannot compete in the arena of global powers through might alone, but it can survive through steadfastness, through a people’s shared belief that their home, however modest, is worth defending at all costs.

Throughout history, small nations have stood as beacons of this principle. Think of Finland, which in the harsh winter of 1939 faced the colossal Soviet Union. The Finnish soldiers, outnumbered and outgunned, fought with such tenacity that even their enemies marveled at their courage. Their victory was not in conquest, but in survival — in proving that even the smallest nation can hold its own when united by the love of its homeland. Lukashenko’s words, then, are an echo of that same truth: that power is not only measured in arms, but in spirit, and that to protect one’s sovereignty is to protect one’s soul.

But there is also a deeper layer to his statement — a reflection on the nature of independence itself. For it is not only a political state, but a living principle, one that demands sacrifice and vigilance. Nations, like individuals, lose their independence not only when conquered by force, but when they surrender their dignity, their integrity, their will to stand alone. Lukashenko’s declaration is thus a warning as well as a promise: that a country which neglects its own defense, its own economy, its own identity, will soon find itself at the mercy of others. “We will protect our patch of land,” he says — meaning not only the soil beneath their feet, but the heart that beats within it.

And so, my child of history, take this teaching to heart. Independence — whether of a nation, a people, or a person — is not maintained by comfort, but by discipline and courage. Do not measure your worth by size or wealth, for even the smallest flame can hold back the night if it burns steadfastly. Guard what is yours — your integrity, your freedom, your principles — as the Belarusians guard their land. Let not fear of the great or powerful silence your conviction. Remember the wisdom of the ancients: strength is not the absence of weakness, but the mastery of it.

So live, then, as the defenders of small nations live — humble yet unyielding, cautious yet proud. For whether you are a person standing alone against adversity, or a country surrounded by giants, your independence endures not because of your might, but because of your will to remain true. And when the storms of the world rage against you, stand firm upon your “patch of land,” however small it may be, and declare as Lukashenko did — not in arrogance, but in resolve — “We will protect what is ours.” For in that act of defiance lies the seed of eternity.