07 Oct 22 | Belarus, News and features
Index on Censorship and ARTICLE 19 are appalled by the prison sentences given to the current and former staff members of BelaPAN, including our former colleague, Andrei Aliaksandrau and his wife, Irina Zlobina. The ongoing clampdown on civic space in Belarus, including a near total restriction on independent media, is an attack on democracy and fundamental human rights. The extent of this attack on free expression is exemplified by this decision.
Andrei and Irina were detained on 12 January 2021 – over 620 days ago – and initially charged with the “organisation and preparation of actions, grossly violating public order, or active participation in them, as well as funding and other material support for such activities.” Subsequently, Andrei and Irina were also charged with “high treason”. On 6 October 2022, the Minsk Regional Court sentenced Andrei to 14 years in prison, with Irina sentenced to 9 years. Also sentenced were two of Andrei’s colleagues, including the current editor-in-chief of BelaPAN, Irina Leushina and the former director, Dzmitry Navazhylau. In addition, Aliaksandrau, Leushina and Navazhylau were sentenced for the “establishment of an extremist formation”. According to Viasna, they are also prohibited from holding certain positions for five years.
Index on Censorship and ARTICLE 19 have always assessed the charges against them to be baseless and politically motivated. Nothing about this sentence changes that fact. In fact, the manner by which this sentencing occurred, with the court closed to the public and only pro-regime journalists present, reinforces this belief. That BelaPAN has been recognised as an ‘extremist formation’, alongside a number of other independent outlets, testifies to the scale of the erosion of free expression and democracy in Belarus.
“We are devastated that our dear friend and former colleague Andrei has been sentenced by the Belarusian regime. Like his wife Irina, his only “crime” has been to steadfastly support fellow citizens defending Belarusian democracy. Yesterday’s verdict is a damning indictment of Lukashenka’s Belarus, and one of most chilling demonstrations to date of his determination to crush freedom of expression. Index will continue to expose the rank criminality of the Lukashenka regime, and to shine a constant light on Andrei, Irina and the countless others like them imprisoned and persecuted for speaking out,” said Ruth Smeeth, CEO of Index on Censorship.
“When I see a rare photo from the courtroom where Irina smiles, probably looking at her family for the first time in two years, and when I see Andrei standing so noble in front of such cruelty – it all becomes so clear. Pure evil on one side, and – I ask myself – what will be on the other side. It depends on us. The moment we are silent is the moment when Lukashenka wins. So I’m sure that by giving support to political prisoners, by putting them in the spotlight, we win. We help them now and bring the moment of their release closer. All of them are innocent. Each and every person deserves to be released,” said Inna Kavalionak, Director of Politzek.
At the end of September 2021, Andrei wrote a letter to his friend Tania while in pre-trial detention. In it he stated: “Thanks to you, and other good people, my conscience is clear.” The same cannot be said of Lukashenka’s regime and the courts that give cover to his unrelenting attack on democracy. We reiterate our calls for Andrei and Irina, as well as all other political prisoners, to be freed without delay.
09 Aug 22 | Belarus, News and features
Sometimes the letters from a prisoner of the regime in Belarus are full of encouragement and nice stories. While human rights defenders and activists speak up about severe detention conditions and beatings, psychological pressure and denial of medical assistance, the picture from the prisoners’ letters seems to be rather peaceful. Their imprisonment often looks like a retreat: they write about reading books and enjoying the fresh air during walks. The sharp contrast between the detention and what they write about may be confusing at first glance.
At this point, it is important to understand what the regime is like in Belarus. To be a political prisoner of the regime does not mean access to any prisoners’ rights or basic human rights, it does not mean respect for any rights in general. This also includes all rights to correspondence. In a country where people are detained for any oppositional political expression, down to wearing white-red-white socks, it would be naive to expect that the regime would not establish total information control over them in jail.
In Belarusian prisons, letters pass through strict two-way censorship regimes that consist of the combination of prison’s general regulations and specific treatment of those who are there for political reasons. Words, sentences, and even pages can be withdrawn, whole letters can be returned to the sender or simply disappear if the rules are not followed. This is, however, the best case scenario. In the worst-case, a person can be sent to a punishment cell, beaten, and threatened. Sometimes in the letters, you can actually hear a voice behind a prisoner’s back dictating to them, forcing words of praise for the administration of the penal colony or coerced requests aimed at relatives to cancel any legal complaints procedures. Such conditions make it impossible for political prisoners to open up and write about the ill-treatment they receive. What is left is to stay strong.
Political prisoners in Belarus have become experts at finding neutral topics to escape the censor’s ire. What is more, they know that the truth is theirs: they are not criminals, they are heroes of new Belarus who dared to stand face to face with the regime and reclaim their rights. However, one should not be tricked by the cheerful mood. Often, it is meant to support loved ones, ironically cover the pain after the unfair treatment, and thank those who ensure they are not forgotten.
08 Jul 22 | Belarus, News and features
Our friend and former colleague Andrei Aliaksandrau has again been writing letters from prison in Belarus. Aliaksandrau and his fiancé Irina Zlobina were detained on 12 January 2021 – almost 550 days ago – and face up to 15 years in prison on charges of treason. The authorities claim that Andrei helped train “at least 260 people to participate in group actions that grossly violate public order”, including paying administrative fines, the cost of meals in places of detention and bills for the services of lawyers. Index on Censorship believes the charges are baseless and politically motivated and he and his co-defendants should be released immediately without charge.
In his letter released last week, Andrei wrote, somewhat sarcastically: “I spent the whole of June travelling – it’s summer as it should be”.
He wrote: “Our trial is secret, but I feel the support and all the vibes well. Now is definitely the most interesting and diverse time in the past year and a half, if only because I am seeing and even sitting next to the people dear to me almost every day. We are in a cheerful mood, our excitement, perhaps, is only from the joy of seeing each other, the flight is normal. There will be no miracles, but no one has expected them. There is no news or surprises here.”
He continued: “How is the summer going on? And how is life in general now? There is little to see from here, and there is only a continuous war on TV. And how is peace?”
“It’s going to be alright. Let’s write further,” he concluded.
Andrei and Irina’s trial has currently been suspended for two months, pending further cirminal proceedings.
Sign the petition for Andrei and Irina’s release here.
30 Jun 22 | Belarus, News and features
I was nervous during my first trial. No wonder – I’ve never been under arrest before. I was nervous even though I did not commit any crime.
I went through quite a rough detention in Minsk in October 2020. After the rigged presidential elections in Belarus in August 2020 there was a wave of protests, which were brutally suppressed.
Roughly 40,000 people went through administrative arrest just for taking part.
The majority of those people peacefully protested on the streets and now they being accused of participating in mass riots and violating the law. Some were journalists whose work the Belarusian state now calls treason. They include a broad range of ordinary Belarusians, from baristas to CEOs of IT start-ups, cultural workers to taxi drivers, who simply wanted a change in their country.
These people are being kept in pre-trial detention centres for up to a year and a half. Some are kept with up to 18 room-mates in crowded cells measuring five by six metres with no ventilation. They are poorly fed, allowed to shower only once a week for 20 minutes, often with no hot water and they are deprived of correspondence.
Thousands of those arrested have submitted statements to the International Committee for Investigation of Torture in Belarus (ICIT), a coalition of five human rights organisations in the country, to say they experienced different kinds of torture during their detention.
I was one of the lucky ones who did not face this horror.
My so-called trial was very fast and conducted via Skype. In the day of the trial I was told to go into the corridor from my cell where an officer with a computer was waiting for me. I went from the cell with my dirty hair, not looking good at all, and still wearing the hipster jacket in which I was detained. I saw the look on the computer guy’s face: he could not believe that I may have commited something that had brought me to prison. I asked him: “Do I look a dangerous criminal to you?” He kept staring at me and said “No…”.
My trial lasted for around 20 minutes, with the judge somehow pretending to follow the procedure, saying all the necessary but impossible to process judicial words very fast. The verdict was predictable – guilty. My sentence? Detention for a month.
I had a chance to have a quick chat with my parents as they were in the courtroom together with my lawyer. Other political prisoners have no such chance to say goodbye to their loved ones.
There are 1,492 political prisoners at the moment, including Andrei Aliaksandrau and Irina Zlobina.
Andrei is a journalist and media manager, who in the past has worked with Index on Censorship. Irina is his fiancé – the main reason for her detention. Now they both are accused of organising mass riots and treason simply because they were helping victims of the August 2020 protests. Andrei has always been focused on developing high level journalism in Belarus and is an experienced manager, consulting in different countries; he is also a Liverpool FC fan. Irina’s flower shop was famous in Minsk and everybody knows of her boundless enthusiasm – but the regime is not interested in such people.
Unlike my trial, Andrei and Irina’s is closed. The Belarusian authorities often make a trial closed, citing the need for secrecy.
Sometimes the only chance to see a person in a closed trial is while they are being transferred to the courtroom. There are literally five or six seconds of them walking in the corridor when relatives will try to peer into their faces to understand how they are doing. The mother of one political prisoner played the audio of her grandchild, the prisoner’s little daughter, during this five seconds just so he was able to hear her voice.
The only sure way for friends and family of detainees in closed trials to see them is on state television which broadcasts short clips from the courtroom for the evening news or reports in other state media.
Belarusians don’t know whether to laugh or to cry about this. People are having to subscribe to these propaganda channels on YouTube and Telegram in order not to miss these first images because they haven’t seen their loved ones for so long.
I was nervous and angry during my trial, but I knew I was doing the right thing. The same is true for Andrei – as far as we know from his letters (which are censored and he is constantly being deprived of). Right before the trial he asked the media to publish his statement. In it he said: “I’m going into the trial with no illusion but with a clear conscience”.
Andei’s and Irina’s trial was set to last for a couple of weeks but at the end of June the trial was suspended for two months. It is quite predictable how it will end. What I know from my own personal experience and that of all the prisoners who are writing from prison is that the biggest fear is to be forgotten. We cannot change the course of the trial, but we can certainly influence it. Support the prisoners, share information about them, donate to help their families maintain their lives. This is how to show your disagreement and help change happen.
