Hello, generation Lukashenka

Photo: Hanna Zelenko (CC) commonsi.wikimedia.org

It was at this time that 18-year-old Hanna Smilevich from Minsk was expelled from her second year of university. She failed to pass three exams and was not allowed to retake them. “At first I did not think that they were flunking me because of politics, but then I was almost directly told that this was, in fact, the case. When I came to pass my physical education test, the teacher told me that people from the KGB had come to him and asked about me,” Hanna says. A month before the exam, she was elected as the leader of the youth wing of the Belarusian Popular Front, an opposition party. Before that, Smilevich says she never had any problems with her academic performance.

Two flags, two languages, two patriotisms

Kolya Lukashenka, in turn, is so extraordinarily well travelled that some critics have begun to question the impact that all of these appearances have on his education. But no one would dare to publicly ask about him missing school. While Smilevich says she wants to pursue her political career and run for parliament in the future, the young Lukashenka does not see himself as president. “It is going to be a very hard life,” he explains. Smilevich says she is not satisfied with the political system; Lukashenka, on his high-level diplomatic missions, represents the system.

The two of them capture a sense of division among young people in Belarus today: those who accept Lukashenka’s rule and those who adamantly oppose it. Somewhere in the middle is the majority, who are not all that passionate and politically engaged. And they all live side by side.

Belarus is indeed full of paradoxes. Twenty-seven years after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the pioneer youth movement (which aims to promote patriotism) seems to be on the verge of a renaissance. Every year hundreds of new recruits are inducted at formal ceremonies across the country. Wearing pioneer ties, pupils learn to salute, sing patriotic songs and listen to stories of how to be an example to all. A few years ago, Lukashenka’s granddaughter was proudly accepted into the pioneer organisation.

“Not everything was so bad with the pioneers during the Soviet times,” says Maryna Bahdanava, deputy chairperson of the Young Pioneer movement. The organisation is one of the biggest and gathers more than 650,000 schoolchildren in a country where streets in the capital are still named after Marx and Engels and a statue of Lenin dominates the city centre square.

My reality was somewhat different. The high school I attended – the Yakub Kolas National Humanities Lyceum – was shut down by the government in 2003, 12 years after it was founded by a group of Belarusian intellectuals. Since then, it has been operating without official recognition. The school gained a prestigious reputation and was full of professors who taught a curriculum free from ideological dogma. When the Lyceum was deprived of a state licence, our classes were held in nondescript apartments or sometimes on benches outside. Fourteen-year-old students, including myself, were often stopped and searched by the police for “forbidden symbols”, such as t-shirts with the Pahonia symbol (the coat of arms of the Medieval Grand Duchy of Lithuania – editor’s note) or a white-red-white pin. For the same reason, we were sometimes taken to the police station for questioning. It felt wrong, but it was also a reason to be proud, being a “partisan”.

Lukashenka’s grip on the youth

It was in the early 2000s when Lukashenka realised how much of a threat an independent education could pose to the stability of his regime. During that period, a youth resistance movement named Zubr was making the headlines. In reaction to student activism, the government increased its control of the university system and maintained a ban on political dissent on campuses. Shortly thereafter one of the few western-oriented education institutions in Belarus, the European Humanities University (EHU), was shut down by the government. Since then, it has been operating in exile in Vilnius. It was similar to the Yakub Kolas Lyceum – always a thorn in Lukashenka’s side.

In order to build support among younger people and increase control over student activism, the Belarusian Republican Youth Union (BRSM) was established. “Our Komsomol”, as Lukashenka calls it, currently has more than 480,000 young members, which makes it one of the largest youth organisations in the country. However these figures might be manipulated, as the organisation is accused of using unethical methods to increase its membership, such as threats and coercion. This year the BRSM will receive 6.8 million roubles in state funding – which is almost three million euros. By comparison, it is more than the allocated budget to support small and medium-sized businesses or the pharmaceutical industry.

Belarus joined the Bologna process (a European project to harmonise higher education throughout Europe – editor’s note) but has not become more student-friendly. Pressure is put on students, academic autonomy remains a pipe dream and many student unions are openly run by university authorities. Hanna Smilevich’s case is far from unique. In the past three years, more than 15 students were expelled from universities on political grounds. After mass protests in 2006, this number was at least ten times higher. Participation in a foreign exchange programme can lead to questioning by the KGB, says Aliaksandra Kuzmich from the independent Belarusian Students Association. This, the oldest youth organisation in the country, was denied registration in 2001. Since then, it operates underground. “Many universities prevent students from organising their own events on campuses, even educational ones. But is it a crime?” asks Kuzmich.

As a result, students are not very active in defending their rights. Unhappy about insufficient academic freedom and compulsory work placements, students choose to study abroad. Currently, there are around 35,000 Belarusians at foreign universities. In a country where they are forced to take ideological courses, being too outspoken, pluralistic and open-minded can have negative consequences.

In almost three decades since independence, many Belarusians have lost confidence in the country’s institutions and believe that citizens in most of the neighbouring states enjoy a better life. A 2017 study by the Belarusian Analytical Workroom, an independent polling organisation, found that one in three Belarusians wants to emigrate. Speak to many young people about their plans for the future and you will often hear, “There are no prospects for me here, so I want to leave.” But when it comes to their geopolitical preferences, most young people still prefer closer ties with Russia over Europe. According to the same organisation, 46-55 per cent was in favour of unifying with Russia, while 33-37 per cent preferred joining the EU.

The difference in these figures is not solely related to a change in mood, although support for Russia was sometimes lower and support for the EU higher in prior years. Rather, it shows remarkably different attitudes among age groups of the collective youth. Students are often more pro-European, but when they start to work, they perceive Russia more favourably, as Belarus is heavily dependent on the Russian economy, energy resources and trade. It is, above all, a pragmatic choice.

Omnipotent and omnipresent

At first glance, the Belarusian youth still remains the most active part of society (as a 2018 survey conducted by the Office for European Expertise and Communications found). However, the devil is in the details. For 44 per cent of respondents, their social engagement boiled down to reading news; 17 per cent volunteer, while only five per cent say they proactively implement projects and initiatives. When it comes to the involvement and participation of young people in solving local problems, the findings are disappointing. Only 12 per cent of those aged 25-31 are willing to solve problems locally. More than half would pass this responsibility to a housing association. Curiously enough, when those aged 15-18 were asked the same question, no one (zero per cent) said they would solve community problems themselves.

“They would rather change their own situation, their own life, not the country,” says sociologist Andrey Vardamatski, head of the Belarusian Analytical Workroom. “Young people are too often called the catalyst of change for the future, but this is not the case in Belarus. The reason is that the majority of young people in Belarus have never seen any positive effects of activism. They have never experienced any successful protest campaigns.”

Belarus’s young people can truly be called “the Lukashenka generation” – those under 24 have no memories of a period of democratic transition. Today’s stability makes perfect sense to them. “At least things are not getting worse,” you may often hear. That is the world that they have inhabited since birth, where the state is omnipotent and omnipresent.

There has been a debate recently among my friends about the disenchanted Belarusian youngsters that increasingly avoid politics. But they are hardly alone. Any serious academic research on attitudes towards the government will focus on youth disengagement, from both formal institutions and political movements. It is a trend across continents; in Belarus one can name a few reasons for that. Are you tired of hearing about dozens or hundreds of students arrested in Belarus? Imagine how tired they must be. I was struck by how many young people joined the public celebration of this year’s Freedom Day on March 25th. The government did not sanction the rally in Minsk, where dozens were arrested; however they agreed to a concert and up to 20,000 turned out for it. Estimates of the numbers attending the celebration are wide-ranging, but it attracted by far more people compared to recent years. Yet despite the government banning any protest or march, many people carried the white-red-white flag, which has become a symbol of opposition. For the first time, the co-organisers of Freedom Day were not only the old guard opposition politicians, but also young bloggers, and urban and cultural activists.

Not black and white

Two years ago a young journalist named Katerina Siniuk launched a project called Imena (which means names in English) which promotes socially responsible journalism. Since then, it has raised almost 300,000 euros. Siniuk says that among those donating money, around 30-40 per cent of it comes from tech professionals, which essentially means the new generation. What is that, if not the essence of civil society? “The current political system is aimed at suppressing any political activity of young people, so they found a substitute for it,” argues Vadim Mojeiko, who is a cultural expert and a lecturer at a university in Minsk.

Young people give life to cultural initiatives that promote Belarusian language and memory. They run crowdfunding campaigns, social projects and sign online petitions. Such activities have great value since outbursts of political protest on the streets are met with violence. But what is also important is that the Belarusian youth, like youth elsewhere, are going global. This means they have new demands, such as education, technology and business opportunities. “It is not directly related to politics, but once it is substantiated and some energy is put into it, it would turn into something tangible. Step by step, it will lead to change,” says Mojeiko on a positive note.

There is more than one Belarus, but it is not always black and white. Young technocrats within Lukashenka’s vertical of power stay loyal to the president and should not be viewed as an alternative or a new political force. But even they are aware of the need for structural reforms. Others are hungry for a future within a modern and progressive state and are no longer satisfied with its current deficiencies. Many choose to emigrate, but those who stay will help shape the country’s future. They might not be rebellious, but the new generation is channelling its desire for change in different ways.

Hanna Liubakova is a Belarusian journalist based in Warsaw. For the past five years she has been writing for various Belarusian and international media outlets. She was a recipient of Vaclav Havel Fellowship at Radio Free Europe, as well as the Nordic Council international scholarship.

belarus, Youth