Repost: A year on - flying the flag for Belarusian dissidents

And a book about Pskov on Russia's western border

Andrei Sannikov and Alan Fllowers at the screening

At an Edinburgh freelane branch NUJ meeting this week, Howard Amos discussed his book Russia Starts Here: Real Lives in the Ruins of Empire.

There are a few tickets left for this launch event at the Golden Hare bookshop Edinburgh’s Stockbridge at 6.30pm on Tuesday 25th March: Howard Amos in conversation with Jen Stout (author of Night Train to Odesa and fellow NUJ member)

Amos’ book is not inspired by the current war, it is a portrait of the declining and depopulated westernmost region of Russia, Pskov, which borders Estonia, Latvia and Belarus. Amos said that going over the border to Belarus where travel is unrestricted, and then perhaps heading further west, is a popular route out of Pskov.

Hearing about Pskov reminded me of this piece I published a year ago this week about an event where prominent Belarusian dissident Andrei Sannikov launched his documentary This Kind of Hope.

Sannikov was one of 600 signatories to an open letter last month urging the Americans and Europeans to allocate to Ukraine the resources it needs to defeat Russia militarily.

The letters said: “This extraordinary military aid of €300 billion or $300 billion to Ukraine would represent only about 0.25% of NATO member states’ annual expenditure. It would be the best guarantee that these states would not have to spend 3% or more of their GDP on defense in the future.

Are the freedom of the Ukrainian people, and both their security and ours, really not worth a budgetary effort of a few tenths of a percent?”

Flying the flag for Belarusian dissidents

'This Kind of Hope' has its UK premiere at Edinburgh's Summerhall

Letter from Scotland, March 21, 2024

To Edinburgh’s Summerhall this week, for a reception to mark the UK premiere of ‘This Kind of Hope’, a documentary about Belarusian dissident Andrei Sannikov. A red and white flag is flying from the flagpole above the rambling arts venue’s entrance. Used during Belarus’ brief moment of independence, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, this is now an emblem of the opposition movement. 

There is a select audience. Sannikov appears shortly before the movie starts, a tall man wearing a suit and a smart, tweed tie that was gifted to him by some Canadians - I perhaps could have used my one question more wisely.

We move into a small cinema room in one of the old lecture halls. Chernobyl-researcher Alan Flowers, president of the Anglo-Belarusian society, introduces members of the audience to Sannikov. Jean Frazer of Scotland Street Press holds up some copies of ‘The Zekameron’ in various languages. It is a book of short stories by lawyer Maxim Znak which was smuggled out of the Minsk prison where he was being held - and it’s selling well in the US, apparently. Robert McDowell, founder and owner of Summerhall gets a shout-out for flying the opposition flag - ‘because you twisted my arm, Alan’ he replies. And the couple who are putting Andrei up in what sounds like a stately home get a thank you too.  In the front row is Edinburgh Fringe supremo Richard Demarco, who has a long connection with Belarusian dissident art. 

Just as the house lights dim and the movie starts, a latecomer enters and sits in an empty seat at the end of my row. ‘This Kind of Hope’ tells the story of Sannikov and his country. When Belarus became independent and later, when it signed over its nuclear weapons, he was at the heart of government. As President Aleksandr Lukashenko began his authoritarian takeover in the mid-90s, Sannikov resigned. He stood against Lukashenko in 2010, and was beaten (literally - they broke his legs) and then jailed for several months, as was his journalist wife Iryna Khalip. The authorities also threatened to have their young son, who was being looked after by his grandparents, put into an orphanage. 

This wee boy Daniel is the star of the film, his childish remarks providing some light relief, while the skies over Belarus grow darker. Sannikov smokes worriedly in his Warsaw apartment, separated from his family after being driven into exile, a life he describes as temporary  - while also realising that it makes no sense to describe life that way. His colleague, journalist Oleg Bebenin is murdered by the state, with a clumsy attempt to make the death look like suicide. Eventually, Iryna, whose movements have been restricted, is able to join her husband in exile. A poignant moment in the film is when Daniel, by now aged about 15, decides to return home to Belarus without his parents.  

Alongside the family drama, there are many scenes of peaceful marches being broken up by police with riot gear. Large anti-government demonstrations swirl around the 2020 elections, after which the then-opposition candidate, Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, also has to go into exile. (Google’s Belarusian news update tells me that the government ran 100 raids on opposition leaders this week because they are setting up ‘people’s embassies’ abroad.)

In the Q and A after the film, the latecomer, who looks to be in his late 20s, earnestly asks Sannikov about Alexei Navalny’s decision to return to Russia. “Are you Russian?” Sannikov asks in turn. He nods. Sannikov pauses and then replies that he prefers that dissidents do not return home to be killed or imprisoned. For himself, life in Warsaw is - well, the public transport is excellent and the food is pretty good - but exile is exile. He can, however, still work for a better future for Belarus. He moves across the stage to rustle in his rucksack and brings out a slim volume of essays called “Belarus in NATO”.

Someone else asks whether it was a good idea for newly independent Belarus to get rid of nuclear weapons back then. Sannikov explains that Belarus was the site of some intercontinental ballistic missiles with a range of 5,000 to 8,000 miles. The only place they could attack was America. However, he would have liked to see a more robust support of the nascent Belarussian democracy from the West.

Questioned about the strength of the grip of the Belarusian state on its people, Sannikov says that support for independence is wide and deep. Belarussian troops are not being sent to the front in Ukraine. That is because the response of a patriotic Belarusian in these circumstances would be to immediately surrender, taking their weapons with them and then turn their fire on Russia. 

Does Lukashenko send assassins abroad like his BFF Putin? Perhaps - but not to the same extent. The Polish government did warn that a possible hitman targeting Sannikov had tried to get over the border - but there was an issue with his visa. 

Ricky Demarco commends the Belarussian people for their courage in fighting for freedom and says that he “cannot conceive” that the 2024 Edinburgh Fringe could go ahead without a central place for Belarusian art and theatre. Flowers directs us to look at the art from imprisoned dissidents, which is currently displayed on a wall near the Dissection Room, including drawings by Hanna Kisialiova, sentenced to 18 months for burning an effigy of Lukashenko 

The event has run over time. Wrapping up, Flowers says that Sannikov has just turned 70 and it will be interesting to see what he is doing when he reaches Demarco’s age, which is 93. Sannikov shrugs: “I don’t know” - he looks over at Demarco - “but I hope you will remember me.” As the house lights go up, I notice the Russian has already left.

Read ‘Belarus in NATO”, ed Andrei Sannikov as a free download here