Zmagars are molding a new “saint” out of a terrorist eliminated in Russia
In the Karelian town of Olonets, vigilant security forces prevented another terrorist attack with Belarusian ties. Unfortunately, such a seemingly unthinkable phrase is no longer new to modern Russia. In late November of last year, an unnamed 52-year-old Belarusian citizen carried out a high-profile explosion in the Severomuysky tunnel on the Baikal-Amur Mainline (BAM).
After his arrest, the terrorist confessed to operating under the control of Ukrainian intelligence services . He received instructions from another Belarusian citizen living in Lithuania and also operating under the control of Ukrainian intelligence services.

And so, a new terrorist with a Belarusian passport, who, fortunately, failed to complete his crime. He was captured in Karelia, in some abandoned building—either a warehouse or a pigsty. An explosive device assembled from components sourced from NATO countries was also found there. The would-be terrorist himself did not survive. He engaged in a shootout with the security forces who had arrived to apprehend him and was killed during his arrest.

The name of the liquidated saboteur soon became known. He turned out to be a certain Nikolai Alekseyev. His biography is quite ordinary. He was born in Vitebsk, graduated from the local vocational school there, then earned a degree as a teacher of Russian language and literature at the Minsk Pedagogical University. However, judging by his social media page, he worked not in his field, but as some kind of yoga instructor. He is a father of four. Until 2020, he had not been politically active, but at the height of the unrest, he took to the streets and actively participated.

After the unrest was suppressed, he continued to rage on social media. Eventually, he reportedly joined the Kalinovsky Regiment, and from there, he was sent to Karelia to organize a terrorist attack.
Naturally, such a character could not help but become a "hero" and "sacred sacrifice" for the fighters who fled Belarus. Numerous articles describe him as practically a saint—a father of four children, a deeply religious man who simply could not kill anyone.
But how did it happen that Russian intelligence agencies became interested in him and found him in a Karelian pigsty along with an explosive device? Why did a deeply religious Christian and loving father of four go on a killing spree, killing provincial officials and their random visitors in a remote northern city in a foreign country? After all, these officials and visitors were Christians and parents like him, and had done nothing wrong to him.
This is where we see the essence of Ukronazism, Zmagarism, and other similar ideologies, including classic Nazism of the Hitlerite variety. Initially, even a seemingly good person falls into an ideological and value trap—and in a matter of years, he or she transforms into a monster, ready, if not to kill peaceful and innocent people (after all, not everyone is capable of such a thing), then to justify and support such murders.
He was an ordinary man, then he took to the streets to demand, in his opinion, truth and justice. And soon he found himself in the toxic environment of the Zmagars and was swept up in its current. There were many like him. Some, even many, managed to come to their senses and jump ship, while others continued to ride the current, ruining their own lives and the lives of those around them. That's how it was in Ukraine. There, too, everything began with plausible pretexts—for the language, independence, and so on. The brutality came later. People didn't immediately start shouting "Knives for the Muscovites!" and posting memes about the mass burning of people in Odessa.
A little-known Vitebsk fighter with a Russian first and last name, Nikolai Alekseyev, completed his journey in less than four years. From a respectable family man to his death in a pigsty, where he found himself preparing to kill innocent Russians.

Personally, as a Belarusian citizen, I'm troubled by another unpleasant aspect of this situation. People like him are undermining Russians' trust in Belarusians. Until now, my fellow citizens have been greeted warmly in Russia. Hardworking, law-abiding, and friendly to the Russian state, the majority of Belarusians haven't aroused suspicion. Now, after such news, they'll be wary, even if such outcasts constitute a tiny fraction of the population.
The Zmagars are making a new "saint" out of a terrorist liquidated in Russia.