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INDEX ON CENSORSHIP   |   VOL.53   |   NO.3 U p F ront The Index MY INSPIRATION Three knights of freedom FRANAK VIAČORKA, chief adviser to Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya and ex-political prisoner, writes about his heroes behind bars FOR THE PAST four years, every morning, I wake up with a feeling of pain and guilt. This guilt has become ingrained in the hearts of many active Belarusians, both in exile and within the country, ever since Lukashenka’s regime began its brutal repression. Why? Because every day, more than 1,400 people are deprived of the basic joys of life, imprisoned on political grounds. They can’t enjoy the summer sun, the taste of morning coffee, or the thrill of watching the historical US presidential debates. Their only joy – a short walk in a tiny prison yard, or a rare letter from a parent or child, if the censors allow it. Among these political prisoners are people from all walks of life – Nobel laureates, pensioners, students – who were leading normal lives until Lukashenka’s regime threw them in jail. But the pain cuts deepest for those I know and admire personally. These are true friends who played important roles in my life, whose voices and thoughts I miss profoundly. They are my heroes, three knights of freedom: Ales Bialiatski, Ihar Losik, and Pavel Belavus. The regime has made him suffer beyond words Ales was always the one who saved me. As the head of the human rights centre Viasna and later a Nobel laureate, he was more than just a leader, he was a lifeline for those crushed under Lukashenka’s ruthless regime. Every time I was arrested or detained, he felt it deeply, as if it were happening to him. And when I was thrown into prison, he was the first to reach out, the first to fight for my release. I’ll never forget our meeting just months before his own arrest. He told me he was going back to Minsk. I asked him if he was afraid. He looked at me, calm and resolute, and said, “What do we have to fear? Let them be afraid.” They sentenced him to 10 years in prison. Ales is more than brave - he’s a warrior, a knight of human rights, standing tall against the darkness. Then there’s Pavel Belavus. Pavel is the heartbeat of Belarusian culture. Even under the suffocating grip of dictatorship, he breathed life into our nation – organising festivals, massive concerts, and keeping the spirit of Belarus alive. He never flinched at bureaucracy, never backed down from rejection. He always pushed the boundaries of what seemed impossible. Because of him, countless Belarusians rediscovered their language, their history, their identity. I remember us dreaming up a T-shirt design with a traditional Belarusian ornament, LEFT: In June, opposition figure Franak Viačorka was sentenced to 20 years in prison in absentia something simple, yet powerful, a way for Belarusians to wear their pride. Soon, tens of thousands of people were wearing that shirt. But the regime saw his creativity, his unstoppable energy, as a threat. They locked him away for 10 years. Pavel is more than a cultural leader – he is a knight of our heritage, a guardian of our soul. And then there’s Ihar Losik, someone so close to me, someone who feels like a brother. I met Ihar more than a decade ago on Twitter [X]. His sharp wit, his fearless commentary on Belarusian politics, it was like nothing else. He spoke truth to power with a clarity that few could match. Later, he created the most influential news channels on Telegram, lifelines for so many, guiding them through the chaos of our times. But for this, the regime has made him suffer beyond words. He’s been tortured, driven to the edge. He’s attempted suicide more than once behind bars. For a year and a half now, they’ve kept him in the dark, no contact, no news, not even a word to his lawyer or family. They sentenced him to 15 years, but what they truly fear is his voice. Ihar is a knight of free speech, a beacon of hope in a world where they try to silence us. I believe each Belarusian has someone – a friend, a family member, or even just an acquaintance – in prison. Every Belarusian feels this pain, and this guilt for them. But this pain and guilt don’t stop us from fighting for them. They are not just our pain, they are also our strength. We must draw inspiration from their heroism and their dedication. They can’t speak now, so we must be their voice. And we won’t stop until each and every one of them is free. C R E D I T: H a n d o u t 10  INDEXONCENSORSHIP.ORG
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C R E D I T: N e w s I m a g e s L T D / A l a m y FEATURES “If [Hillsborough] happened in the old Soviet Union, the West would be using it as an example of how the state failed – a massive cover-up.” A CITY’S LIMITS | FRANCIS CLARKE | P24

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INDEX ON CENSORSHIP   |   VOL.53   |   NO.3

U p F ront

The Index

MY INSPIRATION

Three knights of freedom

FRANAK VIAČORKA, chief adviser to Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya and ex-political prisoner, writes about his heroes behind bars

FOR THE PAST four years, every morning, I wake up with a feeling of pain and guilt. This guilt has become ingrained in the hearts of many active Belarusians, both in exile and within the country, ever since Lukashenka’s regime began its brutal repression. Why? Because every day, more than 1,400 people are deprived of the basic joys of life, imprisoned on political grounds. They can’t enjoy the summer sun, the taste of morning coffee, or the thrill of watching the historical US presidential debates. Their only joy – a short walk in a tiny prison yard, or a rare letter from a parent or child, if the censors allow it.

Among these political prisoners are people from all walks of life – Nobel laureates, pensioners, students – who were leading normal lives until Lukashenka’s regime threw them in jail. But the pain cuts deepest for those I know and admire personally. These are true friends who played important roles in my life, whose voices and thoughts I miss profoundly. They are my heroes, three knights of freedom: Ales Bialiatski, Ihar Losik, and Pavel Belavus.

The regime has made him suffer beyond words

Ales was always the one who saved me. As the head of the human rights centre Viasna and later a Nobel laureate, he was more than just a leader, he was a lifeline for those crushed under Lukashenka’s ruthless regime. Every time I was arrested or detained, he felt it deeply, as if it were happening to him. And when I was thrown into prison, he was the first to reach out, the first to fight for my release. I’ll never forget our meeting just months before his own arrest. He told me he was going back to Minsk. I asked him if he was afraid. He looked at me, calm and resolute, and said, “What do we have to fear? Let them be afraid.” They sentenced him to 10 years in prison. Ales is more than brave - he’s a warrior, a knight of human rights, standing tall against the darkness.

Then there’s Pavel Belavus. Pavel is the heartbeat of Belarusian culture. Even under the suffocating grip of dictatorship, he breathed life into our nation – organising festivals, massive concerts, and keeping the spirit of Belarus alive. He never flinched at bureaucracy, never backed down from rejection. He always pushed the boundaries of what seemed impossible. Because of him, countless Belarusians rediscovered their language, their history, their identity. I remember us dreaming up a T-shirt design with a traditional Belarusian ornament,

LEFT: In June, opposition figure Franak Viačorka was sentenced to 20 years in prison in absentia something simple, yet powerful, a way for Belarusians to wear their pride. Soon, tens of thousands of people were wearing that shirt. But the regime saw his creativity, his unstoppable energy, as a threat. They locked him away for 10 years. Pavel is more than a cultural leader – he is a knight of our heritage, a guardian of our soul.

And then there’s Ihar Losik, someone so close to me, someone who feels like a brother. I met Ihar more than a decade ago on Twitter [X]. His sharp wit, his fearless commentary on Belarusian politics, it was like nothing else. He spoke truth to power with a clarity that few could match. Later, he created the most influential news channels on Telegram, lifelines for so many, guiding them through the chaos of our times. But for this, the regime has made him suffer beyond words. He’s been tortured, driven to the edge. He’s attempted suicide more than once behind bars. For a year and a half now, they’ve kept him in the dark, no contact, no news, not even a word to his lawyer or family. They sentenced him to 15 years, but what they truly fear is his voice. Ihar is a knight of free speech, a beacon of hope in a world where they try to silence us.

I believe each Belarusian has someone – a friend, a family member, or even just an acquaintance – in prison. Every Belarusian feels this pain, and this guilt for them. But this pain and guilt don’t stop us from fighting for them. They are not just our pain, they are also our strength. We must draw inspiration from their heroism and their dedication. They can’t speak now, so we must be their voice. And we won’t stop until each and every one of them is free.

C R E D I

T:

H a n d o u t

10  INDEXONCENSORSHIP.ORG

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