In the wake of the Ukraine crisis, activists tell Katerina Barushka that aspects of Belarusian identity – especially language – are making a comeback

Gallery Y is one of the very few alternative cafes in the Belarusian capital Minsk, and every Monday evening it is packed with around 200 people of all trades and ages. They sit on the floor or stand for three hours to participate in one of the most popular public events in the city – a Belarusian language class.

Belarus’ president, Alexander Lukashenko, who is widely criticised for his authoritarian rule, once said “nothing significant can be expressed” in Belarusian. He played a key role in stigmatising the language in favour of Russian, and in the years that followed, Belarusian became the language of the marginalised political opposition.



But for the first time in his two decade-long rule, Lukashenko – facing fresh concerns about Russia’s influence over the former Soviet country – he has begun to show signs that he may be changing his mind. And Belarusian speakers are excited.



No more than 10% of Belarusians say they communicate in Belarusian in their day-to-day lives

Alena Vasilyeva is one of the students at the class. A university lecturer in her forties, she was raised in a Russian-speaking household. Back in the 1980s, her parents stopped her non-obligatory Belarusian language classes at school, and a short university education in the language was not enough to start conversing.



“I came here to learn the language, but also to see how distinct we are as a nation, what Belarusian do or can do to be different from Russians,” she says.



Belarusian and Russian are both considered official languages of Belarus, but only 23% of the 9.67m population speaks the former, whereas more than 70.2% per cent speaks the latter. No more than 10% of Belarusians say they communicate in Belarusian in their day-to-day lives.



It’s hard to be distinct when you are constantly reminded your nation is Russia’s younger brother, and anything Belarusian is boring

Public courses have been run by independent Belarusian academics for decades, but the language was frowned upon at state level. It is only recently that they have seen a boost in popularity, with independent courses now conducted across Belarus.



“People want to be proud of who they are, to be distinct and original,” says Alesya Litvinouskaya, one of the founders of the most popular course Mova Nanova.



“It’s hard to be distinct when you are constantly reminded your nation is Russia’s younger brother, and anything Belarusian is boring and provincial. We aim at making the Belarusian language and culture look cool again.”



Facebook Twitter Pinterest A Belarusian language class at Gallery Y in Minsk late last year Photograph: Katerina Barushka

Valery Bulhakau, an editor-in-chief of a magazine Arche and a PhD in nationalism studies believes there is “a distinct growing interest in the Belarusian culture” and even goes as far as calling it a “national revival”. The language courses ““are not particularly educating, they rather represent a community, and that’s what important,” he says.



Analysts say the Ukraine crisis acted as a wake-up call for Lukashenko, who has long been a key Kremlin ally. For years, this relationship has not only been vital for Lukashenko’s grip on power, it is crucial for Belarus’s economy – around 10-15% of which relies on Russian subsidies. With such close ties between the two nations, when Moscow annexed Crimea, and Russian president Vladimir Putin justified the move by saying he would protect Russians or Russian-speakers across the world, Lukashenko was said to be rattled.



We aim at making the Belarusian language and culture look cool again

For the first time in his long rule, Lukashenko delivered part of a political speech in Belarusian in July, the day before Putin came to Minsk to commemorate the 70th anniversary of freeing Belarus from Nazi occupation. The symbolism was not lost on proponents of Belarusian language and culture.



Then, in November, he held a momentous meeting with both pro-government and independent intellectuals and writers to encourage them to promote national cultural and historical values.



Public support for Belarusian language has also shown signs of growing, as the language begins to shed its stigma. An on-going state social campaign ‘The taste of the Belarusian language’ posts billboards around Belarus with interesting words in Belarusian. And a month after an attempt to switch to using Russian-language signs on the Minsk metro, citizens convinced management to switch back to Belarusian.



Authorities have allowed such campaigns to exist and promote Belarusian, but in the sensitive political climate, the organisers of language classes and other initiatives have had to tread carefully. Though it is early days, some Belarusian nationalists believe real change is in the air.



Authorities have allowed such campaigns to exist and promote Belarusian, but the organisers of language classes have had to tread carefully

“I could compare present times with the end of the 1980s, when people would go crazy for different cultural events,” says Tamara Matskevich, the Deputy Head of the Belarusian School Association. “The state structures were all powerful only nominally. In March of 1991, over 82% of Belarusians voted for the preservation of the Soviet Union, and in a couple of months it was gone.”



However, not everyone believes a Belarusian-language revolution is on its way.



“Without the state support, more language classes at school and the wide usage of the language on the official level, it is too early to talk about real change,” says Andrei Yeliseyeu, a political analyst from the Belarusian Institute for Strategic Studies, an independent think tank.



“A slight national revival is politically convenient for the state to secure its position among the Belarusians in the light of mass propaganda of the pan-Russian nation,” says Yeliseyeu. “The state apparatus is still very strong and could smash these initiatives at any moment”.



Indeed, there is no Belarusian language university and language lessons in schools are declining. Eighty five per cent of books published in Belarus each year are published in Russian, with Belarusian books taking up 9.5% of the market, followed by those published in English taking 4%.



People long for their national identity, to be different, to be proud of who they are

However, Litvinouskaya insists that Belarusian is seeing an important revival, and not just in the cultural or political spheres.



“Right now we are working with the largest Belarusian private network of gas stations A-100, which, from January 2015, have translated all of [its] documents into Belarusian and make Belarusian the only language of their staff,” she told the Guardian. “This is business, and they develop their strategy based on what will sell best. If that is not a change in the society, then what is?”



Language is just one piece in the puzzle, and some hope that increased tolerance towards Belarusian could have a significant knock-on effect on national culture and identity as a whole.



One of the most active promoters of Belarusian culture has been the national campaign “Budzma” which organises cultural events across Belarus, and a festival of advertising in Belarusian called Ad.nak!



“Five years ago, when we’ve started Ad.nak!, we were anxious there wouldn’t be any second edition,” says Alena Makouskaya, one of the coordinators of the campaign. “Since then the amount of entries tripled. People long for their national identity, to be different, to be proud of who they are. Political is daily, cultural is eternal.”

