Belarus opens criminal cases against more than 60 journalists in exile

Doc­u­men­tary film­mak­er Maryia Bulavinskaya’s love of his­to­ry led her to buy a tra­di­tion­al wood home in the Belaru­sian vil­lage of Rogi-Ilet­sky in 2019. Her plans to ren­o­vate and even­tu­al­ly live in the house were put on hold in 2020 when she fled the coun­try out of fear of being detained for her cov­er­age of anti-gov­ern­ment protests. Now, she may nev­er step foot in the house again; she learned this year that author­i­ties had seized it as part of an opaque legal process to pros­e­cute her for her jour­nal­ism.

Doc­u­men­tary film­mak­er Maryia Bulavin­skaya’s coun­try house was seized as part of an inves­ti­ga­tion into her jour­nal­ism. She is one of dozens of Belaru­sian jour­nal­ists in exile fac­ing crim­i­nal cas­es. (Pho­to: Cour­tesy of Maryia Bulavin­skaya)

“They are delib­er­ate­ly not inform­ing me of the rea­sons for their actions so that I am left guess­ing and under psy­cho­log­i­cal stress,” Bulavin­skaya told CPJ from her new home in a Euro­pean Union state which she declined to name for secu­ri­ty rea­sons.

Bulavin­skaya is one of hun­dreds of jour­nal­ists who went into exile after Pres­i­dent Alek­san­dr Lukashenko inten­si­fied his jail­ing and per­se­cu­tion of the press fol­low­ing 2020 protests call­ing for his ouster. Increas­ing­ly, they face the long arm of the state. Accord­ing to CPJ research, more than 60 jour­nal­ists in exile are under inves­ti­ga­tion or fac­ing crim­i­nal charges in cas­es that were opened after they left Belarus, con­sti­tut­ing a mas­sive cam­paign of transna­tion­al repres­sion against those who con­tin­ue to report from abroad.

Belaru­sian offi­cials cracked down on the media and civ­il soci­ety in the wake of 2020 anti-gov­ern­ment protests. In this Novem­ber 2020 pho­to, law enforce­ment offi­cers are seen fol­low­ing par­tic­i­pants in an oppo­si­tion ral­ly in Min­sk, Belarus. (Pho­to: Reuters/Stringer)

Jour­nal­ists are being charged under so-called “spe­cial pro­ceed­ings,” a 2022 addi­tion to the crim­i­nal pro­ce­dure code that allows Belaru­sian author­i­ties to con­vict peo­ple in absen­tia. At first, the pro­ceed­ings were most­ly used against dis­si­dents, politi­cians, and activists; in 2024, author­i­ties began charg­ing jour­nal­ists in an esca­la­tion against the exiled press, accord­ing to the Belaru­sian Asso­ci­a­tion of Jour­nal­ists (BAJ), a trade group oper­at­ing from abroad since 2021. (Four of BAJ’s own employ­ees face crim­i­nal cas­es accord­ing to the orga­ni­za­tion.)

CPJ spoke with 15 jour­nal­ists fac­ing crim­i­nal cas­es and found that the legal process typ­i­cal­ly fol­lows the same pat­tern: Jour­nal­ists learn that they are under inves­ti­ga­tion, or fac­ing charges, when law enforce­ment offi­cials pay intim­i­dat­ing vis­its to rel­a­tives still in Belarus or when they spot their names on Russia’s online data­base of want­ed sus­pects, which since a 2010 region­al treaty includes Belaru­sians. (Belarus’s own “want­ed” data­base is not fre­quent­ly updat­ed.) Jour­nal­ists’ remain­ing prop­er­ty in the coun­try is seized pend­ing a tri­al, which vir­tu­al­ly always results in a con­vic­tion. The jour­nal­ists are then sen­tenced and ordered to pay heavy fines, which serve as a pre­text for the full con­fis­ca­tion of their prop­er­ty.

“Hav­ing repressed vir­tu­al­ly every­one inside the coun­try they could, the author­i­ties have now turned their atten­tion to those abroad,” said Barys Haret­s­ki, deputy head of BAJ, in an inter­view with CPJ.

“The author­i­ties have no inten­tion of reduc­ing the num­ber of repres­sive acts; they want to keep not only those inside the coun­try in fear, but also those who have been forced to emi­grate.”

Jour­nal­ists have lit­tle recourse once placed under “spe­cial pro­ceed­ings,” which are non­trans­par­ent by design. Accord­ing to BAJ, jour­nal­ists are typ­i­cal­ly unaware of what might have trig­gered the crim­i­nal cas­es against them until the tri­al begins. (Bulavin­skaya, for exam­ple, still does not know the nature of the inves­ti­ga­tion or any charges against her.) Jour­nal­ists are rep­re­sent­ed by gov­ern­ment-appoint­ment lawyers who vir­tu­al­ly nev­er com­mu­ni­cate with them. If they are sen­tenced to prison, such as three of the 15 CPJ spoke with, they can tech­ni­cal­ly appeal, but it’s prac­ti­cal­ly impos­si­ble as most nev­er see a sen­tenc­ing doc­u­ment, said Haret­s­ki. Once sen­tenced, they have to be extreme­ly cau­tious about trav­el. If they enter a coun­try with an extra­di­tion treaty with Rus­sia or Belarus, they can be deport­ed to serve their jail time.

CPJ emailed the Belaru­sian Inves­tiga­tive Com­mit­tee, the agency in charge of pre­tri­al pro­ceed­ings, request­ing com­ment on the use of “spe­cial pro­ceed­ings” against jour­nal­ists but received no response.

Journalism equated with extremism

Jour­nal­ists fac­ing “spe­cial pro­ceed­ings” are typ­i­cal­ly charged with extrem­ism. Since Belarus tight­ened its extrem­ism laws in 2021 in response to nation­wide protests, author­i­ties have been steadi­ly using them to erode press free­dom by fin­ing and impris­on­ing inde­pen­dent jour­nal­ists and block­ing out­lets labeled as “extrem­ist.”

Free­lance jour­nal­ist Zmitser Lupach, who is in exile in Poland, learned that he was charged with “pro­mot­ing” extrem­ism, among oth­er crim­i­nal charges when acquain­tances sent him a pho­to of him­self in a dis­play of accused crim­i­nals in Belarus’ north­west­ern city of Hly­bokaye. Lat­er, author­i­ties seized his apart­ment and a police offi­cer paid a vis­it to his 81-year-old moth­er to ask if Lupach was plan­ning to come back to Belarus.

Zmitser Lupach’s pho­to (cir­cled) was post­ed on a dis­play of accused crim­i­nals at a Belarus police sta­tion. His two chil­dren, whose pro­files are under­lined, were also list­ed on the dis­play and they face sep­a­rate accu­sa­tions. (Pho­to: Court­sey of Zmitser Lupach)

“I can’t imag­ine how one can equate jour­nal­is­tic work with extrem­ist activ­i­ty… I can­not explain it by any­thing oth­er than revenge on the part of the Lukashenko regime,” he told CPJ.

“It is impos­si­ble to keep silent about this. Because the state, which should pro­tect its cit­i­zens regard­less of their polit­i­cal beliefs, is behav­ing like the ulti­mate crim­i­nal.”

Anoth­er jour­nal­ist in exile, Tanya Korovenko­va, is fac­ing a crim­i­nal case that she sus­pects is relat­ed to her pre­vi­ous work for inde­pen­dent news web­site Pozirk, which the Inte­ri­or Min­istry declared an “extrem­ist” for­ma­tion in Decem­ber. The min­istry also pub­lished a list of peo­ple affil­i­at­ed with Pozirk that includ­ed her name, she told CPJ.

Her prop­er­ty was seized in Octo­ber. In Feb­ru­ary, Belaru­sian KGB offi­cers asked Korovenkova’s rel­a­tives about her activ­i­ties. “I regard such actions against me, as well as against my oth­er jour­nal­ist col­leagues, as per­se­cu­tion for our work,” she said.  

Families impacted

Jour­nal­ists told CPJ that fam­i­ly mem­bers in Belarus are harassed, with some­times dev­as­tat­ing con­se­quences. In Decem­ber 2023, Iry­na Charniauka’s 74-year-old moth­er was sum­moned for ques­tion­ing about her daugh­ter by the Belaru­sian Inves­tiga­tive Com­mit­tee; months lat­er, law enforce­ment offi­cers vis­it­ed the elder­ly woman’s home to inform her that the jour­nal­ist was charged with pro­mot­ing extrem­ist activ­i­ty over a July 2023 inter­view she gave to Bel­sat TV about the con­vic­tion of her hus­band, jour­nal­ist Pavel Mazhei­ka. Soon after, Charniauka’s prop­er­ty was seized.

“My moth­er is an old per­son, and she end­ed up in the hos­pi­tal due to a heart attack and this is the direct con­se­quence of all those things,” Char­ni­au­ka told CPJ.

She said the legal process has been a black box.

“It is like­ly that a lawyer was assigned to me, but I don’t know who and I don’t know how to find out. When my col­league jour­nal­ists had such spe­cial pro­ceed­ings [opened against them], they found out that their gov­ern­ment-assigned lawyers admit­ted their guilt… I can­not go back to Belarus, because I know what will be next,” she said.

Siarhei Skulavets, a for­mer jour­nal­ist with Bel­sat TV who is fac­ing an extrem­ism case, told CPJ that in 2024 offi­cers twice searched the homes of his 64-year-old moth­er and his 85-year-old grand­moth­er.

“Two weeks after the sec­ond search, which took place on Decem­ber 31, my grand­moth­er died. The cause of death was a heart attack. I believe that the law enforce­ment is indi­rect­ly to blame for this, as they inflict­ed severe trau­ma on her,” he said, adding that the home he left behind in 2023 was also searched.

“The author­i­ties are wag­ing a war against free speech in the coun­try. Jour­nal­ists who have not [left the coun­try] are in jail. Law enforce­ment offi­cers in turn have lost their con­science and are con­duct­ing an all-out sweep, destroy­ing people’s lives, their des­tinies and fam­i­lies,” he said.

Self-censorship in exile

Exiled jour­nal­ists told CPJ they made the dif­fi­cult choice to leave in part to con­tin­ue in the pro­fes­sion, but the use of “spe­cial pro­ceed­ings” has forced them to ques­tion the safe­ty of their work.

“Spe­cial pro­ceed­ings and repres­sion against rel­a­tives in Belarus are a cru­cial fac­tor in why the vast major­i­ty of inde­pen­dent jour­nal­ists in exile work anony­mous­ly and often refuse to work on cam­era in order to main­tain their anonymi­ty,” Haret­s­ki told CPJ.

“Close peo­ple with whom I had con­tact asked me to stop com­mu­ni­cat­ing with them,” anoth­er jour­nal­ist fac­ing crim­i­nal pro­ceed­ings told CPJ under con­di­tion of anonymi­ty for fear of reprisal. “They were very afraid of hurt­ing me and them­selves of course [by main­tain­ing com­mu­ni­ca­tion]. They were induced sev­er­al times to ‘coop­er­ate,’ in oth­er words, to find out infor­ma­tion from me and pass it on to the author­i­ties. …This is a pow­er­ful lever of pres­sure, and of course it hurts a lot, but I hope that it is tem­po­rary,” she said.

“I would real­ly like to con­tin­ue to stay in the pro­fes­sion. But unfor­tu­nate­ly, all the things I have built up, year after year, have been tak­en away from me,” she said.

Anoth­er jour­nal­ist told CPJ under con­di­tion of anonymi­ty that law enforce­ment came to his par­ents’ work­place before he real­ized he was on Russia’s want­ed list. The jour­nal­ist said “spe­cial pro­ceed­ings” have suc­ceed­ed in mak­ing exiled jour­nal­ists think twice about con­tin­u­ing to cov­er the coun­try they left behind.

“This is repres­sion of jour­nal­ists, an attempt to stop their activ­i­ty,” he told CPJ. “And it does work – jour­nal­ists go into self-cen­sor­ship mode.”

The long arm of the state: Three exiled journalists facing criminal cases

Olga Loiko, a for­mer edi­tor of now-shut­tered news web­site Tut.by, was sen­tenced in absen­tia this year on charges of incit­ing hatred, tax eva­sion, orga­niz­ing a protest, and call­ing for sanc­tions. She has not been able to deter­mine the exact sen­tence.  

“There is no doubt that I and the rest of the Tut.by staff are being per­se­cut­ed for our jour­nal­is­tic work, for our excep­tion­al­ly accu­rate and pro­fes­sion­al cov­er­age of the events on the eve of and after the 2020 pres­i­den­tial elec­tion,” she said. “And the bru­tal­i­ty of the per­se­cu­tion … is exclu­sive­ly because of Lukashenko’s per­son­al trau­ma, who believes that the West ordered [the protests], paid jour­nal­ists and oppo­nents, spies, etcetera, because oth­er­wise he would have to believe that Belaru­sians hate him — and quite mas­sive­ly. And jour­nal­ists are not the rea­son, nor the insti­ga­tors of this hatred.”

Uladz­imir Khilmanovich, a free­lance jour­nal­ist and human rights activist, was sen­tenced last August to five years in prison and a fine of 40,000 Belaru­sian rubles (US$12,224) on extrem­ism charges. In Jan­u­ary, court bailiffs con­fis­cat­ed his TV, wash­ing machine, and refrig­er­a­tor, and he antic­i­pates that all of his prop­er­ty, includ­ing oth­er house­hold appli­ances, a rur­al plot of land, and a two-room apart­ment, will even­tu­al­ly be con­fis­cat­ed.

“The whole judi­cial sys­tem in today’s Belarus is built exclu­sive­ly on repres­sive­ness and per­se­cu­tion on polit­i­cal grounds for dis­sent,” he said.

Fyo­dar Pauluchen­ka, edi­tor-in-chief of Reform.news, learned he was placed on Russia’s want­ed list in March, about six months after his par­ents and daugh­ter were sum­moned for inter­ro­ga­tion by the Belaru­sian KGB.

“The author­i­ties are try­ing to put pres­sure through my par­ents on me for my pro­fes­sion­al activ­i­ties… They were forced to sign a non-dis­clo­sure doc­u­ment, and I can­not find out the details. They are scared,” he said. “This is a com­mon prac­tice of pres­sure on Belaru­sian jour­nal­ists. For­tu­nate­ly, I don’t have any prop­er­ty in Belarus, oth­er­wise it would be con­fis­cat­ed.”