DEAR READER,

I am heading to Katowice for the European Editors Forum 2025 organised by New Eastern Europe. We are bringing together editors and journalists from across Europe to discuss the biggest challenges facing independent media.

This week’s expert opinion is on political prisoners. As our contributor George Melashvili recently pointed out, Georgia now has more political prisoners per capita than Russia. Authoritarian crackdowns are on the rise not only in Eastern Europe. We decided revisit Andrei Sannikov’s text from 2016, which is just as relevant today, arguing that the fate of these prisoners depends on international attention and solidarity.

Also, this week we are partnering up with our friends at the European Defence Network (EDN). Check out how to join below.

Enjoy reading this week’s “brief”!

— Giorgi Beroshvili, Editor

On December 8th, 1986, at 23:50 in the hospital of a watch factory in Chistopol, in the Tatar Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic, Anatoly Marchenko, a Soviet prisoner of conscience, died at the age of 48. His health had deteriorated during a months-long hunger strike, which he began to protest the torture and imprisonment of political dissidents in the Soviet Union. Five days after his death, Mikhail Gorbachev released Andrei Sakharov from exile, and soon all Soviet political prisoners were freed. Marchenko’s sacrifice, in a sense, marked the beginning of the end of the Soviet Union and heralded a short-lived era of freedom.

That freedom, however, was fleeting. In the years following the Soviet collapse, many of the new independent states reverted to authoritarian practices. The repressive systems of the past were revived and perfected to preserve power indefinitely.

Belarus’s path was especially tragic. At first, it was the most democratic of the former Soviet republics, with a functioning parliament and ambitions of joining the Council of Europe. It was also among the first to adopt the Optional Protocol to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, allowing citizens to appeal to international human rights mechanisms. During this brief window of liberalization, Belarus made genuine contributions to international security by disarming and promoting peace, proof that only democratic states can be real guarantors of security.

Yet this democratic promise was swiftly destroyed. The dangers posed by Alyaksandr Lukashenka were grossly underestimated. He built one of the most durable dictatorships in the post-Soviet world, setting an example that Vladimir Putin would later exploit in Russia. Together, they forged what might be called a “cooperative of dictators” across the post-Soviet space, regimes that differ in economic or political matters but are united by their contempt for human rights.

The defining feature of these regimes is the existence of political prisoners: people jailed for their beliefs, for daring to speak out against those in power. In Belarus, serious human rights violations began only after Lukashenka took office. Political repression, including disappearances and assassinations, became tools of governance. In 1999, opposition figures Viktar Hanchar and Yuri Zaharenka were abducted and never seen again; in Russia, figures such as Boris Nemtsov met similar fates.

Political repression reveals both the nature and weakness of dictatorship. Despite their claims of strength, such regimes lack the protection of international law. Dictators watch international reactions closely – harsh repression always follows when the world’s response is weak.

Over the past 25 years, the number of human rights organizations has grown, yet violations have also multiplied. This paradox is not the fault of human rights defenders — many of whom are courageous and dedicated — but rather of intergovernmental organizations like the Council of Europe, the European Union, and the OSCE, which have failed to uphold their own principles.

Realpolitik has increasingly replaced moral clarity. Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, democratic institutions have diluted their values under the pretext of “changed geopolitical circumstances.” Pragmatic arguments — economic, political, and strategic — now often outweigh moral ones. Parliamentary bodies sometimes rely on regime-friendly think tanks or NGOs to shape their assessments, indirectly legitimizing repressive governments. Such short-sighted policies never succeed. Appeasing dictators only emboldens them. Upholding values like freedom, dignity, and justice is not a luxury but a necessity for regional and global stability.

The fate of political prisoners depends directly on attention and solidarity. Domestic support fuels international campaigns, and global advocacy can act as a democratic judiciary where national justice systems are corrupted. When the international community stays silent, impunity thrives.

For those behind bars, knowing they are not forgotten is vital. Letters from strangers matter as much as messages from family. I know this from experience: I was imprisoned for running against “Europe’s last dictator” and recognized internationally as a political prisoner.

There are those who believe that prison life can still hold freedom, depending on one’s mindset. I disagree. Prison is existence without life. It is an abnormal condition that one must endure in the name of freedom and principles, surviving through hope and connection to the outside world.

When advocating for prisoners, we must avoid double standards. Too often, attention focuses on famous figures while lesser-known activists remain invisible. Dictatorships exploit this by releasing high-profile prisoners to ease international pressure while quietly jailing others. This is happening in Belarus today: well-known political prisoners have been freed for show, while lesser-known activists remain behind bars. Officials who are eager to re-engage with Lukashenka ignore these abuses — a dangerous “new pragmatism” that will only breed more repression.

At a meeting in Łódź, I once listened to the Chinese dissident and poet Liao Yiwu, who had spent years in prison. He said something unforgettable: “The Berlin Wall would not have fallen if not for the Tiananmen Square protests.” His words remind us that the fight for freedom is universal. Every act of courage — anywhere — strengthens freedom everywhere.

Anatoly Marchenko’s death in 1986 led to the liberation of many others because it provoked outrage and solidarity. The same power lies with us today. When ordinary people, journalists, and human rights defenders draw attention to injustice, they compel politicians to act. That moral pressure — the collective power of those who care — can make our world a freer and better place.

— Andrei Sannikov, Belarusian activist and politician

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