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Resistance Is Not Enough: Rethinking the Belarusian Democratic Movement

Article by Palina Brodik

July 22, 2026

Resistance Is Not Enough: Rethinking the Belarusian Democratic Movement

A turning point is approaching for the Belarusian Democratic Forces, which emerged in response to the rigged presidential elections in 2020. They have begun to lose momentum after six years of tireless advocacy for democratic change – and it is time for the movement to have a serious conversation about its current shape and strategic direction.

 

Negotiations between the US and Belarusian authorities, which resulted in the release of hundreds of political prisoners, have deepened divisions within the movement into two opposing camps: the supporters of the hard-pressure approach that allows no compromise until the regime is defeated, and the proponents of a flexible approach that accepts limited concessions as a means of securing incremental gains. This dilemma revealed much more than differences in tactics. It exposed a rupture around the fundamental question: what kind of political actor must the democratic movement become if it is to reclaim Belarus? Every geopolitical shift — negotiations over prisoners, the end of the war in Ukraine, changing Western priorities — will only deepen the divisions and further delay the prospect of returning home.

 

The divide therefore runs deeper than tactics. It highlighted the very qualities that have sustained the movement over the past six years. Since 2020, it has drawn strength from shared memory, moral clarity, and organisational durability in the face of repression, exile and war. These qualities were essential for survival, but are insufficient for development.

 

Resistance preserves identity under pressure. However, it offers little guidance on how to prevail against a regime that has repeatedly proven more violent, adaptable, and strategically agile. Resilience, by contrast, requires the capacity to adapt without losing that identity. The question, then, is whether the movement has mistaken preserving its existing form for the ability to evolve — confusing resilience for resistance, organisational visibility for political viability.

 

Rebuilding political viability requires restoring three capacities that both repression and geopolitical turbulence have gradually eroded.

 

1. Continuity of political meaning beyond the life-span of the current movement. Belarus has experienced three major waves of democratic mobilisation in the 21st century alone: in 2006, 2010, and 2020. Yet the history of the movement for our independence and European orientation goes back centuries. The regime does its best to break the chain of memory by obliterating historical milestones and replacing them with a state-sponsored narrative centred solely on the “Great Patriotic War”. Sometimes we contribute to this ourselves: each new generation believes the predecessors are not worth exploration if they have not succeeded – and they eventually replenish the ranks themselves. Yet democratic movements survive not through uninterrupted victories but through continuity of meaning. Otherwise every new mobilisation begins from zero.

 

2. The second capacity is autonomous political agency. Operating in exile, the movement naturally relies on international support. However,  agency should not be built on external validation alone, such as through meetings with foreign country leaders and participation at global political fora. Legitimacy cannot be outsourced. A political actor that increasingly depends on outside confirmation is vulnerable to changing geopolitical priorities. And vice versa — it stays democratic and durable as long as it embodies the interests of the people it seeks to serve. No amount of international recognition can substitute for a living connection between democratic actors and the people they seek to serve.

 

3. Third, and perhaps most demanding of all, is the capacity for self-reflection and, consequently, adaptation. It requires honesty about our successes and failures, an awareness about the changing context, and acknowledging our structural limits to prevent us from falling into obsolete ways of thinking. Democratic movements fail not only when they lose their values, but also when they become unable to distinguish those values from the strategies once used to defend them. The former should endure; the latter should evolve. Сonfusing the two turns adaptation into betrayal and criticism into disloyalty. It takes a lot of courage to be intellectually and emotionally honest with oneself and to be able to admit the necessity of revision. But it is an important marker of a movement’s political maturity and a precondition for further growth.

 

Democratic movements can survive organisationally while collapsing politically. The Belarusian Democratic Forces risk precisely this: preserving their form while losing the capacity to act as a genuine political subject. This also has implications for foreign engagement: support is most effective when it contributes to adaptive political capacity rather than reinforcing institutional visibility.

 

To prevent the negative scenario, the movement should return to the fundamental question that structures this argument — what kind of political actor must the movement become if it is to shape Belarus’s future rather than be shaped by the country’s decline and shifting geopolitical realities?

 

 

Explore the full mini-series here.

 

Palina Brodik is co-founder and director of the Free Belarus Center, a member of the Coordination Council of Belarus and an official CCB delegate to the Congress of Regional and Local Authorities under the Council of Europe.  Palina has over a decade of experience in human rights and election observation. She has collaborated with organisations including UNDP in Ukraine and Belarus, the US-based Advocates for Human Rights, and the Center for Civil Liberties and has taken part in international and domestic election observation missions. She has coordinated the Eastern European edition of the Personal Democracy Forum and the Ostrogski Forum, as well as four seasons of the festival of Belarusian culture and activism “Hučna Fest”.

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this piece are those of the individual author and do not reflect the views of The Foreign Policy Centre.

 

Footnotes
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    From Silence to Agency: What Post-Totalitarian Societies Must Learn from Their Stories

    Article by Olga Reka

    July 13, 2026

    From Silence to Agency: What Post-Totalitarian Societies Must Learn from Their Stories

    There was a time when war took my voice away. When reality becomes unbearable, reflection is reduced into mere observation. Silence ceases to be calm – it turns into the anticipation of terror from the sky. Under conditions of total war, people lose not only their homes, but also the capacity to narrate what is happening to them. Reason narrows to instinct. And everything that requires sensitivity – art, in particular – seems to fall mute. This is how we begin to treat culture as a luxury, as something that can be postponed until more stable times.

     

    Yet the opposite is true: culture is not an adjunct to democracy; it is a precondition for agency.

     

    We live in a time of eroding trust. Governments, media, and institutions are losing credibility. The frameworks that once defined democratic order no longer feel sufficient. Reality itself has fragmented. Policies and protocols may create structure, but they cannot resolve what is, at its core, a crisis of narratives – a rupture between identities, experiences, and meanings. This is not only a Ukrainian question. It is a European one.

     

    Almost five years ago, storytelling and cinema became, for me, a way of resisting this fragmentation. A feature film script about the first months of the Russian full-scale invasion felt not like documentation, but rather reconstruction – an attempt to reclaim authorship over my own experience. In this sense, culture is not representation. It is a safe space where meaning is restored, and with it – the capacity to act.

     

    Since 2022, I have noted a new habit: I catch myself observing people in large European cities as though through an invisible yet dense membrane. This distance is not geographical, but experiential. War creates a rupture that resists translation. And this gives rise to an uneasy question: is agency possible without the experience of existential risk?

     

    Our unprocessed histories – colonial pasts, totalitarian traumas, genocide – return through narratives as recurring threats. This is why the figure of the antagonist is so central to contemporary storytelling. Yet the antagonist is not only what we fight against. It is what we recognise, ‘other’ and refuse to integrate.

     

    Popular culture now offers telling examples. Squid Game does not invent a dystopia – it exposes the future shock of a traditional society. Adolescence does not resolve the problem of contemporary masculine identity – it renders the “accursed questions”[1] even more complex. These stories resonate because they name what society already senses, but cannot yet articulate.

     

    Post-totalitarian cultures – particularly in Eastern Europe, the Caucasus, and Central Asia – face a different problem. They have inherited a cultural hero who is fundamentally passive: the silent dissident, the ironic observer, the one who survives but does not act. In such contexts, silence is mistakenly perceived as strength. In reality, it is often a symptom of learned helplessness. If this narrative remains unchanged, it will continue to reproduce itself – even under democratic conditions. A society that tells itself stories of endurance rather than action will continue to endure, but not to transform.

     

    One of my most sincere sources of inspiration in recent months has been Václav Havel’s essay ‘The Power of the Powerless’, invoked by the Prime Minister of Canada during the 2026 forum in Davos. This text is not merely political commentary in the conventional sense. It is a cultural essay that describes how agency arises not from systems, but from small acts of redefinition – moments when individuals choose to refuse reproducing the scripts imposed upon them.

     

    It seems that our societies today need not simply new content, but a new narrative structure, a different kind of cultural hero – one who acts without guarantees, speaks without certainty, and accepts vulnerability not as weakness, but as a condition of agency.

     

    In Ukraine, the Revolution of Dignity of 2013-14 marked a defining moment when society’s agency not only became unmistakably visible, but also emerged as a force capable of safeguarding democratic values. Since the first months of Russia’s aggression in 2014, volunteer initiatives have quite literally helped keep the Ukrainian state functioning. Their work extends far beyond procuring military equipment and tactical medical supplies. Volunteers have built evacuation networks, supported internally displaced people, and helped devastated communities begin the long process of rebuilding.

     

    The same spirit of initiative has also shaped Ukraine’s soft power abroad. Many of the country’s most effective international cultural and civic initiatives have not been orchestrated by the state but have grown organically through self-organisation and the networks of the Ukrainian diaspora. Ukraine has also demonstrated a remarkable ability to embrace digital innovation, with civil society playing a pivotal role not only in developing and implementing these innovations but also in rigorously testing their effectiveness and holding them to account.

     

    Equally fundamental to Ukraine’s contemporary sense of agency is the ongoing reimagining of local identities across its towns and villages. In recent years, communities have explored their own histories through a wide range of cultural and civic initiatives, rediscovering local heritage, engaging with the complexities of multicultural memory, and dismantling narratives imposed from outside. In doing so, they are reclaiming the right to tell their own stories, and, ultimately, to define themselves on their own terms.

     

    Not all our societies are ready for such a shift. Many are still organised around survival rather than transformation. And this is precisely why the delicate work within the realm of the sensuous – cultural practice – cannot be secondary. Without it, political change lacks psychological grounding.

     

    Our current moment is marked by simultaneities. For some, agency now signifies the basic capacity to act; for others, it denotes a deeply existential experience of subjecthood.

     

    Until quite recently, the ‘Old World’ reliably provided institutional frameworks through which an individual could choose a profession, a way of life, political convictions, partners, or a place to live. Yet reality is unsettlingly clear that no structure can guarantee any longer either meaning or safety.

     

    At such a moment, action becomes inseparable from responsibility: values come at a cost; freedom is not a default condition; neutrality, as an avoidance of choice, no longer functions.

     

    Our identity now is action. It is our daily practice, be it screenwriting, art, human rights advocacy, or a commitment to the rule of law. Alternatively, it can also be the rejection of all the above in surrender to a totalitarian trend.

     

    Democracy today does not begin with institutions. It begins with a shift in how we tell our stories.

     

     

    Explore the full mini-series here.

     

    Olga Reka is a Ukrainian producer, writer and cultural storyteller whose work explores archetypal and transformational narratives shaped by themes of war, dignity, trauma and cultural memory. With over 150 hours of national television to her credit, she has created award-winning fiction projects and is known for story worlds that reflect the contemporary Ukrainian experience. She currently co-ordinates the publication project “Ukraine and Ukrainians”, a historical ethnographic art album of the NCFC “The Ivan Honchar Museum”, Gunia Project and The Ivan Honchar Charitable Foundation. Her recent films include the features “Nodokasa”, “Zenith” and “Misty in Places”; and the short “In the Shadows” (Grand Prix – Ukraina Festiwal Filmowy 2021; Special Jury Mention – Short of the Year 2021). Olga was also the showrunner and co-writer of “5baksiv.net”, Ukraine’s first web series and winner of the Grand Prix at Bilbao Web Fest 2017.

     

    Disclaimer: The views expressed in this piece are those of the individual author and do not reflect the views of The Foreign Policy Centre.

     

    [1] “Accursed questions” (often called proklyatye voprosy in Russian) are universal, foundational inquiries about human existence that never have a single, final answer.

    Footnotes
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      How Can We Secure a Healthy Political and Social Order in a Fragmented World?

      Article by Lord John Alderdice

      How Can We Secure a Healthy Political and Social Order in a Fragmented World?

      This article introduces a new series of short essays by JST Fellows – leaders working across Europe, the South Caucasus and Central Asia – exploring how societies can build the trust, agency and resilience needed for an era of fracture and flux.

       

      We are living through a period of profound change and uncertainty. The erosion of the rules-based international order is causing instability on a global scale. Familiar frameworks and alliances, such as NATO, are no longer seen as providing security guarantees and a basis for shared understanding between states. The institutions that form the foundations of healthy democracy – the media, government, judiciary, and civil society – are not functioning in the way that they should. Media ecosystems no longer offer a shared factual reference point; governments struggle to deliver on the concerns of those they represent; judiciaries face growing pressure on their independence; and civil society is increasingly recast – through propaganda and hostile narratives – as a threat rather than a mechanism for accountability and civic action. It all adds up to a climate of social and political polarisation, creating distrust: in governments, in one another, and in democracy itself.

       

      Added to this, the rapid development of artificial intelligence (AI) presents both opportunities and threats to how our societies and economies function. The political emergence of Gen Z, with youth-led protests in countries as disparate as Georgia, Nepal, Peru and Madagascar, is seen as evidence of growing frustration of young people with inequality, corruption, and the failure of existing institutions to respond to people’s concerns.[1]

       

      These forces are not temporary disruptions but structural shifts reshaping political and social life. As such, they demand a new approach. This is not a time for nostalgia but for a collective rethink. Throughout this mini-series, our contributors delve into experiences of culture, trust and agency in their societies to explore a central question: What actions do we need to take and what stories must we ensure are heard, in order to shape and secure a healthy political and social order for the emerging global era?

       

      In the articles that follow, JST Fellows explore this question in depth, offering diverse perspectives on what it means to rethink democracy through the lens of culture, trust, and agency. They look at opportunities and challenges emerging in media, technology, and information systems. They look at the power of identity and narratives, and their effect on social cohesion. And they look at agency and engagement, with a focus on young people.

       

      These are not separate strands but interwoven dynamics that reinforce each other. Technology drives identity narratives. Identity politics shape how young people engage. And youth movements reshape information ecosystems.

       

      Our Fellows, who come from countries across Europe, the South Caucasus and Central Asia, write about how these forces are playing out in the contexts in which they live and work. Questions of identity, culture and memory also run throughout the series. Olga Reka, from Ukraine, writes about the critical role of the arts, culture, and storytelling in creating meaning and agency as a precondition for democracy. Botagoz Zhumabekova examines the psychological foundations of democratic participation, arguing that active citizenship depends not only on political opportunity but also on people feeling safe enough to engage.

       

      Trust – or its absence – is a common theme. Gulshat Ayydova and Aaron Campbell look at what we can learn from the way young people already engage in informal spaces to encourage meaningful participation and build trust in political processes. Joldoshbek Osmonov, from Kyrgyzstan, looks at the legitimacy crisis facing civil society and how organisations can rebuild trust in the face of propaganda that presents them as a threat. Farrukh Irnazarov explores the role of education in building trust in institutions and civic responsibility across Central Asia.

       

      Looking at democratic renewal through a political lens, Palina Brodik reflects on the future of the Belarusian democratic movement, arguing that preserving collective memory while remaining adaptable is essential to sustaining political agency in exile.

       

      The series concludes with Liliana Gutan’s reflection on Moldova, where democracy is measured not only by elections but by what institutions deliver between them. Her article brings together many of the themes explored throughout the series, arguing that democratic resilience ultimately depends on whether people experience dignity, security, and belonging in their everyday lives.

       

      I hope these articles offer both provocation and possibility – showing what it looks like when values-driven leaders think seriously about the challenges of our time. They are part of the generation of diverse leaders needed in this moment, to shape a new order in which people can live in sustainable, peaceful and just societies.

       

       

      Explore the full mini-series here.

       

      John Alderdice, Professor, the Lord Alderdice. UK Trade Envoy to Azerbaijan & Central Asia and JST Trustee.

       

      Disclaimer: The views expressed in this piece are those of the individual author and do not reflect the views of The Foreign Policy Centre.

       

      [1] Daniel Boffey, ‘We are very strong’: Georgia’s gen Z drives protests against return to past, The Guardian, May 2024, https://www.theguardian.com/world/article/2024/may/16/georgia-gen-z-drives-protests-against-return-to-past-foreign-agents-law; Omkar Khandekar and Yam Kumari Kandel, How Gen Z-led protests put Nepal’s 1st female prime minister in power, NPR, September 2025, https://www.npr.org/2025/09/20/nx-s1-5545760/nepal-protests-gen-z; Marco Aquino and Alexander Villegas, Peru’s Gen Z rallies against President Boluarte, protesting over pensions and corruption, Reuters, September 2025, https://www.reuters.com/world/americas/perus-gen-z-rallies-against-president-boluarte-protesting-over-pensions-2025-09-27/; AP News, How Gen Z protesters brought down Madagascar’s government and now want the president out, October 2025, https://apnews.com/article/madagascar-protests-gen-z-rajoelina-e39ef11bd1f4a92f1f4b353900348219

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