The world's energy system seems to have come unhinged. Oil is trading at record high prices because demand keeps rising even as supplies become unreliable. Oil exporters from Iran to Russia and Venezuela are using their petrocash to pursue agendas that undercut western security and interests. Supplies of natural gas also seem less secure than ever.

The root cause of these troubles is dysfunctional energy politics. The countries with the strongest incentives to cut their vulnerability to volatile energy markets - notably America - are unable to act because influential politicians view all serious policies as politically radioactive. Efforts to boost supply have little leverage because the most attractive geological riches are found mainly in countries where state-owned companies control the resources and outsiders have little clout. Thus, the current energy debates are generating a volcano of proposals that have no positive impact on tight markets.

Yet these structural barriers to serious policy remain hidden because the debate labours under the meaningless umbrella of "energy security". Proper policy on oil and gas must start with the distinct uses for these fuels - each requiring its own political strategy.

The effort on oil must focus on transportation. Vehicles and aircraft work best with liquid fuels that can store large quantities of energy in a compact space and flow easily through pipes to engines. Searching for a better substitute is worthwhile, but the effort faces an uphill battle. With today's technologies, no other energy liquid can reliably beat petroleum. Liquids can be made from coal, as South Africa and China are doing. But that approach is costly and has unattractive environmental implications. Brazil and the US have focused on ethanol, which they distill from sugar or grain from crops. However, those programmes, which account for less than 0.5 per cent of the world's energy liquids, have a negligible impact on the oil market. Yet, America is redoubling its ethanol effort because it is politically unbeatable to reward corn growers and grain handlers who are a formidable force in US politics. Indeed, requirements for ethanol in America have created a more rigid fuel supply system that actually raises the price of oil products, although ethanol's backers originally claimed they would cut energy costs. That same political force also blocks imports of cheaper Brazilian ethanol. In principle, a better approach is so-called "cellulosic ethanol", which promises lower costs as it converts whole plants into ethanol rather than just the grain. But like most messiahs, its attraction lies in the future. So far, nobody has made the system work at the scale of a commercial refinery.

The best way to temper oil demand today is by lifting efficiency. Even this economic winner is politically difficult to implement. The US, which consumes one-quarter of the world's oil, has not changed fuel efficiency standards for new cars in 16 years. Every big economy - even China's - has stricter fuel economy rules than America's. Political gridlock has stymied even modest proposals to allow trading of efficiency credits. A trading scheme is politically inconvenient as it could force US carmakers (which make generally inefficient cars) to buy valuable credits from foreign brands. No politican wants to multiply Detroit's problems.

Even better ideas - such as a stiffer petrol tax - stay stuck on opinion pages of newspapers and in academic journals. Despite what is increasingly termed today's "energy crisis", these ideas barely cross the lips of politicians who want to remain viable among the thicket of anti-tax conservatives and pro-Detroit lobbyists.

The approaches needed for natural gas are quite different. In western Europe, which has long depended on imported gas from Russia, Algeria and a few smaller suppliers, the vulnerabilities are particularly stark. In principle, though, gas dependencies are easier to manage than oil because gas has rivals for each of its major uses. In electric power generation, countries must preserve diversity - ensuring, for example, that advanced coal and nuclear technologies remain viable. While "diversity" is motherhood in energy policy, in reality it requires difficult choices. In continental Europe, for example, policy-­makers have not seriously confronted the conflict between the need for diversity while, at the same time, opening the power sector to morecompetition. Historically, companies in competitive power markets have invested heavily in gas because gas plants are smaller and require less capital than coal or nuclear plants.

Gas suppliers who dream of extending their powers forget that it is harder to corner gas markets when users have a choice. Algeria learnt that lesson in 1981 when it left a key pipeline empty in a pricing dispute with Italy - extracting a better price at the time but losing billions of dollars for the future by destroying its reputation as a reliable supplier.

That lesson should be sobering for Russia today. In December, Gazprom, Russia's giant state gas company, cut deliveries to Ukraine, which then siphoned supplies that flow on to Europe. The company rattled its pipes again last month - threatening retaliation if Europe dared try to wean itself from Russia's gas. While Gazprom's management must pander to Russian nationalism (where pipe-rattling is welcome), the company's long-term viability rests on its reliability as a supplier to lucrative west European markets. Similarly, the recent decision by Evo Morales, Bolivia's president, to nationalise his country's gas fields will give him a boost domestically and might generate some instant extra revenue, but it will also encourage his customers in Brazil and Argentina to look elsewhere for energy.

"Resource nationalism" is back in vogue. But for gas suppliers in particular, it usually ends badly - not least because the infrastructure is costly to build and buyers can afford to be choosy. Gas users can further subdue Russia's rattling by multiplying sources of supply. A robust market for liquefied natural gas will help.

The tendency for gridlock in energy politics means that policymakers must focus where tough decisions matter most, such as efficiency in the use of oil and diversity in the application of gas. Yet, prospects for serious policy are poor - not least because the US, which should be a leader, is the most hamstrung. Luckily, the markets are responding on their own - albeit slowly and patchily. Costly oil is encouraging conservation and new supplies; LNG is accelerating, and gas buyers are more wary of Russian gas than they were a decade ago when Russia was seen as a reliable supplier. If the political structure remains dysfunctional on matters of energy, then the best second is perhaps no policy at all.

Three months ago the Russian energy giant Gazprom forced Ukraine to pay sharply higher prices for natural gas. At the time, the story was portrayed as a political struggle for control in Kiev. But last week Gazprom announced it was tripling gas prices in Belarus, a country that is politically close to the Kremlin. Moldova has been forced to accept a doubling of prices over the next three to four years, and the other former Soviet republics are already paying market prices for Russian gas.

The truth is that these price increases are not political. Rather, they reflect worrisome economic and geological facts about Russian gas fields. The Kremlin is not simply trying to use Gazprom to reassert authority in Belarus, Ukraine or anywhere else. There are in fact deep problems with Gazprom -- problems created by its inefficient management and a looming decline in gas production.

Russia controls over a quarter of the world's gas reserves -- more than any other country. Most of the known Russian reserves (about 80 percent) are in west Siberia and concentrated in a handful of giant and super-giant gas fields. Since the early 1970s the rate of discovery for these new fields has been declining. Moreover, output from the country's mainstay super-giant fields is also steadily falling.

Huge investments are needed to replace this dwindling supply, and all the options for new production will prove costly and difficult. New fields in the far north and east of the country are distant from most of Russia's people and export markets, requiring wholly new transport systems such as pipelines. Moreover, most of these fields are found in extremely harsh environments where it is technically and financially difficult to operate.

Gazprom controls neither the capital nor the technology that will be needed. The state-controlled company is already deeply in debt and burdened by many expensive obligations, such as supplying Russia's population and friends with cheap gas. The company has to work with foreign partners.

So far Gazprom has been able to forestall crisis. Economic stagnation across the former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe since 1990 dampened gas demand. Russia, which had a surplus at the time, sharply increased its gas exports and made contractual commitments that will remain in force for many years.

But following the long stagnation, Russia's internal gas consumption is rising again as the economy expands. And new Russian policies to promote development of the country's eastern regions will, in the next few years, require large new commitments to supply gas to that region (along with spending on railroads, airports and other infrastructure).

Even when the Russian economy was in the doldrums the country was notable as a large gas consumer because of its extremely inefficient energy system. Today Russia is the world's second-largest gas user, after the United States, although its economy is only one-twentieth the size of the U.S. economy.

Electricity in Russia is produced for the most part by gas, but the country's gas-fired electric generators work at 33 percent efficiency on average, compared with 50 to 55 percent in Europe. More than 90 percent of residential and industrial gas consumers don't have meters. Gas is even cheaper than coal -- Russia is the only large country where that is true -- so incentives to switch to an abundant fuel are weak.

In recent years Russia has boosted gas supplies by squeezing Turkmenistan to sell gas to Russia at a deep discount. But Turkmen gas production is poised to decline, and Turkmenistan's gas industry is barely functional because the country's political environment is scary for long-term investors. Other Central Asian suppliers, notably Kazakhstan, are unlikely to be able to bridge the gap.

Caught between growing internal consumption of gas, continued inefficiency and mounting external obligations, Russia's gas industry faces a looming crisis. Given the country's vast resources, it seems that many producers could fill the void. But a series of policy decisions created two roadblocks that Gazprom has been happy to reinforce. One is the lack of access to the Gazprom-controlled pipeline network, which explains why few companies even bother to look for gas: They know they can't get what they find to market. The other barrier to investment is the low internal prices, which make gas production uneconomic except for companies that can sell their products outside.

Gazprom needs cash -- much more cash -- for investment. At the same time, it needs a strong incentive for former Soviet republics to cut their own very inefficient consumption.

Analysts have ignored the risk that Russia's supplies could fall short because they focus on Russia's vast gas resources and the new Western investors who are -- albeit cautiously -- entering into joint ventures with Gazprom. But those resources and ventures are for the long term, and the looming crisis of supply is unfolding now.

The gas shortage is likely to become most acute over the next few years. If there is an unusually cold winter in 2008, the year of Russia's presidential election, then Gazprom will face a politically unpleasant choice: whether to cut off internal customers (voters) or the Western customers who are the firm's main source of hard cash.

The writer is a research fellow at the Program on Energy and Sustainable Development at Stanford University. She is co-author of "Axis of Oil" and of a forthcoming comprehensive review of Russia's gas pipelines.

There was no Orange-style revolution in Belarus following the 19 March presidential elections. But there may have been the beginning of a revolution of the spirit that will bring the last tyranny in Europe to an end. Observers should not lament the "failure" of revolution but should hail the beginning of a genuine democratic movement, which is stronger today than it was just a few years ago.

From the beginning of this campaign, there was little sign of a real contest. Lukashenka could have won a free and fair election: Strong economic growth and social stability might have guaranteed him half of the vote or so, had the vote actually been counted. But a free and fair vote carried the risk of defeat, however remote, and the ghost of the Orange Revolution in Ukraine in 2004 fueled hysteria within the regime. Consequently, just before the vote, the government criminalized opposition-related activity and began to arrest election monitors and activists from nongovernmental organizations on charges of terrorism.

Yet Lukashenka wanted some legitimacy for his reelection and therefore allowed opposition candidates to participate. Surprisingly, two challengers, the leader of the united opposition, Alyaksandr Milinkevich, and the former rector of the Belarusian State University, Alyaksandr Kazulin, refused to bow to the dictator and decided to play by their own rules. Their 30-minute campaign speeches on state TV (that is how much exposure to alternative opinions an ordinary TV viewer in Belarus has had in five years) were devoted not much to the issues but to attacking Lukashenka's character - an act previously unthinkable in a country where one official once declared Lukashenka to be "a bit higher than God." Both candidates emphasized freedom and democracy rather that day-to-day issues in their messages and found much sympathy, to the surprise of observers. Thousands turned out on the streets to hear speeches from opposition candidates, numbers that were unthinkable even in Minsk just a year ago.

Lukashenka saw the crowds as well and got nervous. Kazulin, whose particularly scathing attacks made him an instant celebrity, was beaten up by riot police. Dozens of observers and reporters were denied visas, expelled, or even arrested and charged with helping to plot a coup. State TV propped up its propaganda, and the KGB began to discover one plot after another every several days. In the last revelation, the head of the KGB claimed that the opposition would poison the tap water in Minsk using decomposing rats. And dozens of opposition activists with experience in street protests were rounded up in the run-up to the vote. Yet even in the face of these repressive tactics, Lukashenka's autocratic regime failed to deter people from mobilizing on the streets after the vote to denounce the fraudulent results.

On 19 March, at least 20,000 people took to the streets to protest the announcement of a "smashing" victory for Lukashenka, who was declared winner with 83 percent of the vote cast. And the protesters did not stop there, organizing an around-the-clock vigil on the central square of Minsk to demand annulment of the vote and new elections.

To be sure, the size of the protests was nowhere near the crowds that turned out in the streets in Kyiv a year and half ago. Yet thousands of Belarusians braved not only the blizzard but explicit threats of jail and even the death penalty made by the KGB on the eve of elections. Most of them faced immediate dismissal from state jobs or university if found in the crowd or even caught checking an opposition website. And they barely had means to communicate with each other due to suspension of most of the opposition press and an almost total blockade of the Internet and mobile communications. Could one have expected a protest of more than just a handful of dissidents in these, almost Soviet-style conditions?

SMALL VICTORIES

In retrospect, one has to admit that the protest was doomed. The opposition knew it did not win the elections and hence did not attempt to stage a revolution as such: that is, to attempt to snatch power from Lukashenka by force. Instead, the protest turned into a show of defiance, an attempt to get the sympathy and attention of fellow countrymen. Day after day, the numbers dwindled, not least because each new day brought the protesters closer to an imminent show of force by the government. It came on the morning of 23 March, when people on the square were surrounded and thrown into police trucks, then taken to jails and sentenced to various prison terms.

The dramatic end of the protest also highlighted an unpleasant fact for the Belarusian opposition: A combination of fear imposed by the government on one part society, and acceptance of the regime by another part, still limits its appeal and following. The streets of Minsk these days were full of pictures of solidarity and defiance, but also of indifference from passers-by and loathing for the protesters from the regime's supporters.

Lukashenka's opponents still have a long way to go to communicate their message to the entire society - and will have to do so in an even more repressive political climate than they have endured so far. But failures and disappointments shall not distract attraction from the opposition's successes in this campaign and afterward. It achieved unity and presented society with a leader whom many accepted as a credible alternative to Lukashenka. It invigorated the network of democratic activists, who braved certain repression and imprisonment. It spurred public debate, and the quest for free information was boosted even when the regime knocked out independent newspapers by the dozens. And it proved to the society and the entire world that support for democratic change in Belarus is not limited to just a handful of fanatics.

The March events may be the beginning of a newly invigorated fight for democracy in Belarus as much as it can trigger a new, more severe round of oppression from the regime. The West cannot stop paying attention. Those struggling for democracy, especially those already in jail, deserve our solidarity; families of political prisoners need support; and recently expanded democratic assistance programs, especially efforts to expand access to independent media within Belarus, must be sustained, not cut, now that the election is over.

Democrats in Belarus defied expectations and demonstrated that they exist, they have some popular support, and they are willing to take risks in their fight for freedom. Now, more than ever, supporters of freedom in the West need to stand with them.