In Belarus, the native language is vanishing as Russian takes prominence

FILE - Russian President Vladimir Putin, right, and his Belarus counterpart, Alexander Lukashenko, talk at an economic summit in the Kremlin, in Moscow, Russia, on Dec. 23, 2014. (AP)
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Updated 14 September 2024
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In Belarus, the native language is vanishing as Russian takes prominence

  • Belarusian cultural figures are being persecuted and hundreds of institutions are being closed
  • One prominent secondary school has switched from teaching classes in Belarussian in favor of Russian

TALLINN: When school started this year for Mikalay in Belarus, the 15-year-old discovered that his teachers and administrators no longer called him by that name. Instead, they referred to him as Nikolai, its Russian equivalent.
What’s more, classes at his school — one of the country’s best — are now taught in Russian, not Belarusian, which he has spoken for most of his life.
Belarusians like Mikalay are experiencing a new wave of Russification as Moscow expands its economic, political and cultural dominance to overtake the identity of its neighbor.
It’s not the first time. Russia under the czars and in the era of the Soviet Union imposed its language, symbols and cultural institutions on Belarus. But with the demise of the USSR in 1991, the country began to assert its identity, and Belarusian briefly became the official language, with the white-red-white national flag replacing a version of the red hammer and sickle.
But all that changed in 1994, after Alexander Lukashenko, a former Soviet collective farm official, came to power. The authoritarian leader made Russian an official language, alongside Belarusian, and did away with the nationalist symbols.
Now, with Lukashenko in control of the country for over three decades, he has allowed Russia to dominate all aspects of life in Belarus, a country of 9.5 million people. Belarusian, which like Russian uses the Cyrillic alphabet, is hardly heard on the streets of Minsk and other large cities anymore.
Official business is conducted in Russian, which dominates the majority of the media. Lukashenko speaks only Russian, and government officials often don’t use their native tongue.
The country depends on Russian loans and cheap energy and has created a political and military alliance with Moscow, allowing President Vladimir Putin to deploy troops and missiles on its soil, which was used as a staging area for the war in Ukraine.
“I understand that our Belarus is occupied. … And who is the president there? Not Lukashenko. The president is Putin,” said Svetlana Alexievich, who won the 2015 Nobel Prize for literature and lives in Germany in effective exile. “The nation has been humiliated and it will be very difficult for Belarusians to recover from this.”
Belarusian cultural figures have been persecuted and hundreds of its nationalist organizations have been closed. Experts say Moscow is seeking to implement in Belarus what the Kremlin intended to do in neighboring Ukraine when the war there began in 2022.
“It is obvious that our children are being deliberately deprived of their native language, history and Belarusian identity, but parents have been strongly advised not to ask questions about Russification,” said Mikalay’s father, Anatoly, who spoke to The Associated Press on condition his last name not be used, for fear of retribution.
“We were informed about the synchronization of the curriculum with Russia this year and were shown a propaganda film about how the Ukrainian special services are allegedly recruiting our teenagers and forcing them to commit sabotage in Belarus,” he said.
Mikalay’s school was one of the few where paperwork and some courses were conducted in Belarusian. In recent years, however, dozens of teachers were fired and the Belarusian-language section of its website vanished.
Human rights advocate Ales Bialiatski, convicted in 2023 on charges stemming from his Nobel Peace Prize-winning work, demanded his trial be conducted in Belarusian. The court rejected it and sentenced him to 10 years.
Lukashenko derides his native language, saying “nothing great can be expressed in Belarusian. … There are only two great languages in the world: Russian and English.”
Speaking to Russian state media, Lukashenko recounted how Putin once thanked him for making Russian the dominant language in Belarus.
“I said, ‘Wait, what are you thanking me for? ... The Russian language is my language, we were part of one empire, and we’re taking part in (helping) that language develop,’” Lukashenko said.
Belarus was part of the Russian empire for centuries and became one of 15 Soviet republics after the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution. Daily use of the Belarusian language decreased and continued only in the country’s west and north and in rural areas.
In 1994, about 40 percent of students were taught in Belarusian; it’s now down to under 9 percent.
Although Belarusian, like Russian, is an eastern Slavic language, its vocabulary is considerably different. In 1517, Belarusian publisher Francysk Skaryna was one of the first in eastern Europe to translate the Bible into his native language.
Even speaking Belarusian is seen as a show of opposition to Lukashenko and a declaration of national identity. That played a key role in the mass protests after the disputed 2020 election gave the authoritarian leader a sixth term. In the harsh crackdown that followed, a half-million people fled the country.
“The Belarusian language is increasingly perceived as a sign of political disloyalty and is being abandoned in favor of Russian in the public administration, education, culture and the mass media, upon orders from the hierarchy or out of fear of discrimination,” said Anaïs Marin, the United Nations special rapporteur for human rights in Belarus.
At the same time, “more people want to speak Belarusian, which has become one of the symbols of freedom, but they’re afraid to do it in public,” said Alina Nahornaja, author of “Language 404,” a book about Belarusians who experienced discrimination for speaking their native language.
Like Ukraine, Belarusians had a desire for rapprochement with Europe that accompanied their nationalist sentiment, said Belarusian analyst Valery Karbalevich.
“But the Kremlin quickly realized the danger and began the process of creeping Russification in Belarus,” he added.
That prompted pro-Russian organizations, joint educational programs and cultural projects to spring up “like mushrooms after the rain — against the backdrop of harsh repressions against everything Belarusian,” Karbalevich said.
Censorship and bans affect not only contemporary Belarusian literature but also its classics. In 2023, the prosecutor’s office declared as extremist the 19th-century poems of Vincent Dunin-Martsinkyevich, who opposed the Russian Empire.
When the Kremlin began supporting Lukashenko against the anti-government protests in 2020, it ensured his loyalty and received carte blanche in Belarus.
“Today, Lukashenko is paying Putin with our sovereignty,” said exiled opposition leader Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya. “Belarusian national identity, cultures and language are our strongest weapons against the Russian world and Russification.”
Four cities in Belarus now host a “Russia House” to promote its culture and influence, offering seminars, film clubs, exhibitions and competitions.
“The goal is to plant Russian narratives so that as many Belarusians as possible view Russian as their own,” said analyst Alexander Friedman. “The Kremlin spares no expense and acts on a grand scale, which could be especially effective and dangerous in a situation where Belarus has found itself in information isolation, and there is almost no one left inside the country to resist the Russian world.”
Almost the entire troupe of the Yanka Kupala Theater, the country’s oldest, fled Belarus amid the political crackdown. Its former director, Pavel Latushka, now an opposition figure abroad, said the new management couldn’t recruit enough new actors, and had to invite Russians, “but it turned out that no one knew the Belarusian language.”
“Putin published an article denying the existence of an independent Ukraine back in 2021, and even then we understood perfectly well that he was pursuing similar goals in Belarus,” Latushka said.
“The main course was supposed to be Ukraine,” he added, with a Russified Belarus “as a dessert.”


Families mourn those killed in a Congo mine landslide as some survivors prepare to return

Updated 03 February 2026
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Families mourn those killed in a Congo mine landslide as some survivors prepare to return

GOMA, Congo: After a landslide last week killed at least 200 people in eastern Congo at a rebel-controlled coltan mine, families of the deceased and survivors are mourning their lost loved ones, and some survivors prepared to head back to the reopened mines.
On Wednesday, following heavy rains in eastern Congo, a network of hand-dug tunnels at the Rubaya mining complex collapsed, killing at least 200 artisanal miners and trapping an unknown number who remain missing. The mine, located around 25 miles (40 kilometers) to the west of the regional capital of Goma, has been under the control of Rwandan-backed M23 rebels since early 2024 and employs thousands of miners who work largely by hand.
Family members grieve
In the Mugunga neighborhood in Goma, the family of Bosco Nguvumali Kalabosh, 39, mourned his death Monday.
Since last Thursday, relatives, neighbors and loved ones have been gathering at the family home, sitting around a photograph of him placed up against a wall.
“He was supposed to return to Goma on Thursday,” said his older brother, Thimothée Kalabosh Nzanga.
Kalabosh had been a miner for more than 10 years. He owned his own mines on the site and came from a family where artisanal mining — mining for minerals using basic hand tools — had been passed down from generation to generation. He leaves behind a widow and four children, the eldest of whom is 5 years old.
Survivors head back to Rubaya
For survivors trickling back into town, the pressure to return to the mines is clear — despite the constant danger.
Tumaini Munguiko, a survivor of the collapse, came to offer his condolences to Kalabosh’s family. “Seeing our peers die is very painful. But despite the pain, we are forced to return to the mines to survive,” he said.
Munguiko calmly explained that he had already experienced several similar disasters. “It has almost become normal. We accept it because it is our means of survival. I was saved this time, but I lost five friends and my older brother.”
According to him, landslides are common in Rubaya, especially during the rainy season. “When it rains, the clay soils become unstable. Some take shelter, others perish, others survive, and others watch from afar,” he said.
Miners dig long tunnels, often parallel to one another, with limited support and no safe evacuation route in case of a collapse.
A former miner at the site told The Associated Press that there have been repeated landslides because the tunnels are dug by hand, poorly constructed and not maintained.
“People dig everywhere, without control or safety measures. In a single pit, there can be as many as 500 miners, and because the tunnels run parallel, one collapse can affect many pits at once,” former miner Clovis Mafare said.
“The diggers don’t have insurance,” said Mafare. Of potential compensation for families, he said: “It’s a whole legal process, and it’s very long. They might receive some money for the funerals, but that small amount isn’t compensation.”
Kalabosh’s family has not received compensation for their loss.
However, both Munguiko and Nzanga say they will return to the mines soon despite the risks.
“I have no choice. Our whole life is there,” said Munguiko.
Rare earth minerals
The Rubaya mines have been at the center of the recent fighting in eastern Congo, changing hands between the Congolese government and rebel groups. For over a year now, the site has been controlled by the M23 rebels.
The mines produce coltan — short for columbite-tantalite — an ore from which the metals tantalum and niobium are extracted. Both are considered critical raw materials by the United States, the European Union, China and Japan. Tantalum is used in mobile phones, computers and automotive electronics, as well as in aircraft engines, missile components and GPS systems. Niobium is used in pipelines, rockets and jet engines.
The mines at Rubaya are massive and attract people from across the region. Artisanal miners and workers have been flocking there for years, drawn to the site to earn a steady income in a region plagued by poverty and chronic insecurity. A disaster like this affects people across eastern Congo and the grief has spread to regional hubs like Goma.
For the last two weeks, Rubaya has been virtually cut off from the world. The mining town has no mobile network or Internet connection. Poor infrastructure, coupled with persistent conflict, means cellular service and electricity are unreliable. To communicate with the outside world, residents must pay around 5,000 Congolese francs — just over $2 — for 30 minutes of connection via a private Starlink system.
Congo’s government, in a statement on X, expressed solidarity with the victims’ families and accused the rebels of illegally and unsafely exploiting the region’s natural resources while blaming Rwanda. An M23 spokesperson accused the government of politicizing the tragedy and listed other collapses at government-controlled mines.