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BBC Eastern Europe Correspondent
Sviatlana Tsikhanovskaya refuses to call what is happening this weekend in Belarus an election.
“This is fake,” says the exiled oppositionist. “This is a military operation, a spectacle that the regime is putting on to hold on to power.”
For three decades, the country has been led by an increasingly authoritarian Alexander Lukashenko, who is now firmly backed by Vladimir Putin, who is using his neighbor in his full-scale invasion of Ukraine.
This Sunday, Belarusians will again see Lukashenka’s name on the ballots, and four more names have been carefully chosen so as not to cause challenges.
Independent observers are not allowed.
Strict control was introduced because the last time Belarusians voted for the president, the country was engulfed in giant protests.
In 2020, Alexander Lukashenko allowed Svetlana Tsikhanovskaya to run against him, considering that a novice in politics, and a woman, would not have an impact.
It was a big miscalculation.
Tsikhanovskaya won, who decided to replace her husband after Lukashenka put him behind bars.
When Lukashenka won 80% of the votes, crowds took to the streets, which became the biggest threat to Lukashenka’s rule. The protests were finally crushed by the riot police with mass arrests and brute force.
The European Union then refused to recognize the legitimacy of Lukashenka as president.
Today, all the key oppositionists of that period are in prison or have fled abroad, like Tsikhanovskaya. The former protesters, who are still in Belarus, were intimidated into silence.
So the leader of the opposition is not calling on them to take to the streets again on Sunday.
“We call on Belarusians to reject this fake, and the international community to reject the result,” she told the BBC. “But I say to Belarusians, you must maintain security until the real moment of opportunity.
“Because people live in constant fear, and the regime is now intensifying repression.”
You immediately feel this fear when you talk to Belarusians.
Many people do not want to talk about politics in public. Others ask you to change their names and then choose their words carefully.
Some still communicate in Belarus only through encrypted messages, which are immediately deleted.
Everyone says that open political activism in the country has been destroyed.
Bysol, a nonprofit organization that helps evacuate those in danger, reports a spike in requests to about 30-40 requests per month.
Since 2020, the group has evacuated more than 1,500 people.
It also supports former political prisoners who are trying to rebuild their lives in exile after their release.
For Yana Zhuravleva, a vet that is good.
Until 2020, she was devoted to her work and was not particularly politically active. But that summer, she joined the giant crowds, hoping for a change.
She was later sentenced to three years for “gross violation of public order”.
“We would be punished for everything,” she recalls her time in prison.
She estimated that about 1 in 10 women were there because of the protests. Like them, Yana was included in the register “prone to extremism and destructive activities.”
“You can’t go to the gym, you only have letters from relatives, and you have less visiting rights. When you complain, you always hear the same answer: remember what you’re here for,’ she tells me from Poland, where she moved after her recent liberation.
She admits that it took “titanic” strength not to fall into deep depression.
“I hardly cried in prison. And when I came out, I suddenly wanted to sob all the time, and I didn’t know why.”
Several people I spoke with mentioned that they sought psychological help after being questioned, threatened, or imprisoned.
They describe a security service that hunts down anyone with the faintest links to the opposition and then demands the names of anyone it detains.
The pressure did not ease.
One woman in Belarus, who was involved in monitoring human rights, told me that she had to stop going to court hearings because she was noticed by the authorities.
If some connection with the banned human rights organization “Viasna” was proven, she could be accused of being an “extremist”.
“I can do some concrete actions of support, but I have to be careful,” she told me anonymously.
“You have a very strong sense of helplessness when you see all this injustice.”
To date, “Vyasna” has 1,256 political prisoners in Belarus. Dozens were recently amnestied, but soon they were replaced.
For those who escape the pressure cooker of Belarus, there is the added difficulty of knowing that they may not return for a long time.
That’s why Natalya, not her real name, decided to stay in Belarus even after she was detained twice for participating in protest actions.
“You’re very vulnerable when you’re on the ‘repressed’ list,” she explains.
“You can’t get a job because you’re in the police base and your superiors are always on your side…”
For Natalya, this meant another arrest, first for walking a dog without a leash.
“They claimed that I was aggressive, swearing loudly and waving my hands,” she recalls about her detention in 2023. She was kept for ten days by 14 people in a cell for two, the light was constantly on.
She slept on the wooden floor for more than a week.
“It really shook my sense of security, I became much more anxious,” Natalya admits.
She is currently abroad and plans to return to her cats soon. But her neighbors say a police officer has just visited her home, checking on any potential protesters ahead of Sunday’s vote.
Svetlana Tsikhanovskaya believes that the ongoing repression shows that Lukashenka and his associates are afraid.
“The trauma of 2020 is still alive and he must eliminate any possibility of rebellion,” the oppositionist claims.
“He knows that the Belarusians did not accept him and did not forgive him, and they still want changes.”
But she admits there is little sign of that in the short term.
For a while after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Belarusians hoped that their neighbors would be able to defeat Putin with the help of the West and that Lukashenka would follow him.
Some headed to the front lines themselves, opting for force after their peaceful protests failed.
But the Ukrainian military is now struggling to hold on, and President Donald Trump is insisting on peace talks.
“The democratic world cannot make concessions to Putin,” Tikhanovskaya claims, calling Lukashenka no less dangerous for the world.
He allowed Russia to launch missiles at Ukraine from Belarus and let its tanks pass through its territory.
He also allowed the free flow of migrants to the Polish border and into the EU.
“He allows Putin to place nuclear weapons and his army in Belarus, and it is a very short way to Poland and Lithuania,” Tikhanovskaya emphasizes.
“He and Putin are a couple, and they support other dictators. He is part of this chain of evil.”
There is no doubt that Sunday’s reinstatement of Alexander Lukashenko will go according to his plans.
“These are very capable people,” explains Yana, a former political prisoner.
“They really destroyed the potential of the protest.”
Now she is trying to return to her profession as a veterinarian, but in Poland, and recover after three difficult years behind bars.
Those I’ve spoken to now see Lukashenka’s retirement or eventual death as their best hope of seeing democracy.
Meanwhile, many are changing their focus: a surge of interest in the revival of Belarusian culture and language, the opposition’s cause. This is the most that many dare to do in such conditions.
“Nobody talks about it openly, but we feel that there are no prospects. Depression,” Natalya admits.
But there are no obvious regrets, even in this case.
Svetlana Tikhonovskaya’s life changed dramatically after she entered politics.
Separated from his country, her husband is also a political prisoner – he was kept in complete isolation for almost two years.
The opposition leader insists that she still “sincerely believes” in change.
“2020 marked a huge shift in mentality in Belarus. I don’t know how long it will take, but this shift is not going away.”