What would be an appropriate New Year's Eve metaphor to choose to kick off this time? Raising the vine. Oh yeah, that's that. When gas workers and electricians with a new power transmission line or the owners decide to install sewage in the country yard or summer house, where grapes have been grown for decades, the approach to the house is often blocked by well-rooted vines. And then you need to destroy the support and throw the vine aside so that the bulldozer can pass. Sometimes — to put grapes on the ground for a year, or even two. But when everything is finished and another spring comes, the owners go out into the yard and put new supports, raise vines. Already in the summer, it comes to life, blooms and bears fruit like nothing.
Today, the Belarusian book business is in a whirlwind of repression, but it still seems like a vine that has been removed from its support, which gives new shoots as soon as conditions are created for it.
The process of moving the social community out of Belarus continues, and literary figures are inevitably affected by it — despite the phobia of losing home, which we diagnosed in the creative bohemia in previous reviews. This is happening against the background of incessant intimidation of the population in Belarus. The circle of persons summoned for interviews by the special services has expanded, mainly for money transfers to victims of repression, and the creative elite is gradually deprived of the opportunity to work according to their speciality. Searches, arrests and high-profile court cases are taking place one after another: the initiators clearly hope for publicity in order to exert psychological pressure on a wide audience. Yes, the episode that Andrej Horvat published on social networks in March 2023 was remarkable. On his way from Belarus to Lithuania, he was brutally detained and interrogated, but as a result was released from the country. One can assume, with the expectation of the resonance that this case will receive. Now a popular author and local historian is abroad.
Another impressive case for the community was the arrest in early March of the publisher Zmicier Kołas, who spent 10 days in the KGB pre-trial detention centre and was released without charges. His employee, printer Aleh Syčoŭ, remains behind bars as of the end of April 2023. The incident, against the background of which these arrests took place, is connected with the sabotage at the Mačuliščy airfield in the context of Russia's aggression in Ukraine. As a result, checks at the borders have increased, close attention is paid to printed publications in passengers' luggage.
At the end of April, it became known about the termination of the publishing license of Zmicier Kołas, but it seems that this was not connected with his previous imprisonment. The reason for the verdict was recognition of one of the publications of this publisher as extremist. "Zmicier Kołas" is the eighth publishing house that has ceased to exist in Belarus for one reason or another since 2020.
Thus, the most uncomfortable (although relatively safe) conditions for cultural activities have been created inside the country. This only increases the confidence and determination with which cultural workers raise the BelLit vine on the other side of the barbed wire, behind the Buh.
The project
"Litradio: media about contemporary Belarusian literature" (previously existed in Belarus under the umbrella of the Belarusian PEN) was transferred to new conditions "from the past life". Like virtually all revived initiatives, Pavieł Ancipaŭ's portal has undergone an upgrade. The updated portal is designed to contain literary works, criticism and podcasts about literature, combining text and audio formats. It is actively being filled, and, like our other literary resources, it does not divide Belarusian authors into Belarusian and Russian-speaking, which once again testifies to the value of such an approach for the literary environment of New Belarus, and also tries to expand the optics from which Belarusians themselves look at the literary process due to outsiders: to begin with, the Ukrainian Russian-speaking critic Yuri Volodarsky, who now lives in Israel, reads iconic prose works in Belarusian and writes texts about them. Brief feedback: I wish that such outsider perspectives - and not only from the Russian-speaking world - would appear on the portal more often.
Another iconic portal for Belarusian culture — Makeout — was activated during the relocation in February under the label
"DasHip: media about gender and sexuality in the context of Belarus" (project facilitator - Nik Ancipaŭ). The goal is to give a voice to the LGBTQ+ community in Belarus and beyond. It is noteworthy that at the same time online master classes of creative gender and queer writing are taking place, which, undoubtedly, is changing the domestic literary field for the better. In this context, regrettably belatedly, it is worth mentioning
the online compilation "The Stretch", which appeared in late 2022 and was undeservedly ignored in our reviews. The collection is the result of the fem-writing laboratory organized by the educational queer-femme sisterhood "Tender for Gender" (facilitator and facilitators of the project: Darja Trajden, Hanna Otčyk, Jula Čarnyšova, Tania Zamiroŭskaja, Jula Arciomava, Toni Ładšen).
In the context of the relocation of the Belarusian publishing industry, the "Januškievič" publishing house continues to release popular literature in Belarusian on a large scale, having also established a convenient distribution through allegro.pl, which has long been a dream of Belarusians abroad. In addition, Andrej Januškievič announced at the end of April about the purchase of rights to a number of Stephen King's works. Taking into account the fact that the American writer publicly stopped cooperation with publishing houses of Russia and Belarus a year before as a sign of protest against Russia's aggression in Ukraine, this news has not only a narrow cultural, but also a wider, political and diplomatic significance. In the spring of 2023, it can be said that the publishing house "Januškievič" has restored 90% of the capacity it had before its closure in Belarus — in the spring of 2022.
So far, the only significant gap in the regrowth of the vine of the literary process is the disappearance from the agenda of independent literary prizes: named after Ciotka, Šerman, Aniempadystaŭ, Arsieńnieva. Hopefully, their resurrection is a matter of time.
But let's go back to our Blue-eyed country. Insiders give signals about the crisis of the state structures of literature. In order to keep resources in their hands, officials need to fill the pages of newspapers, magazines, and books with more or less decent texts, and during planned events in museums and libraries, the number of which should also be regulated, show the public not entirely disgraceful living authors. However, the repressive apparatus carries out extremely strict censorship, using anonymous denunciations, raids by propagandists, espionage in social networks and other kinds of such kung fu. Unspoken blacklists actually spread to the entire creative community within Belarus, regardless of the language and aesthetics of creativity. Authors today need very, very little to become non grata for the state. At the same time, the unimaginable rise of informal culture in the previous years greatly raised the bar even for the Ministry of Information and Culture and their motley projects, increasing the reader's sensitivity to trash. Pro-authority writers have to compete and try to look dignified — and this is also, rather, not their internal need, but an order from above. The regime seems to have forgotten that one of the main reasons for the 2020 revolution was aesthetic: the population was overfed with officialdom, tastelessness and kitsch.
Thus, a request has been created for it to be beautiful, noble, high-quality, but for the author not to post anything anywhere, not to assign it to anyone and — mission impossible — not to sign up for the "wrong" candidate in 2020. As a result, the Bahdanovič Museum actually turned into the author's playground of its employee Michał Baranoŭski. And it would even be comical if it weren't so depressing. The potential of the creative field of the Republic of Belarus tends to zero and strongly depends on the loyalty to the system of individual "uninitiated" creators, on whether they will be tempted by meager fees in exchange for the loss of reputation. (For example, the shaming in social networks of the poet Rahnied Małachoŭski for the patriotic poem "I'm proud", published by him at the end of March in the newspaper "Literature and Art" became notable).
The responsibility for access to the press of "extremist elements" obviously rests with the officials from literature, therefore no one tries to take these positions. There are signals about the shortage of staff at the state literary feeding station. It seems that officials have put up a new solid support for grapes, but they cut off any "unreliable" sprouts — even those that don't mind reaching for it. Such a selection looks both funny and boring. An open question: will there be an unspoken amnesty within the system for further peaceful budget cuts, or will the authors, who today are published at the expense of the state, begin to be used for image purposes — to blackmail them with the privileges given to them and force them to publicly swear an oath to the regime?
Independent from the pro-government feeding trough, the majority tends to look for manifestations of the good old red-green trash in everything that is done today by state officials from literature. For example, in February, the outrageous Minsk writer Nata Alejnikava, who read poems about love in pink dresses during scheduled events on February 23, was subjected to virtual bullying. But, as it seems to us, a marginal phenomenon is wrongly presented as the mainstream. One cannot fail to notice the exceptionally high-quality content produced by the modest state-owned vertagraders under the threat of non-renewal of contracts, in the conditions of "banning everything", one cannot fail to appreciate partisan schemes for joining the culture of people who need it today more than ever, to develop national humanitarian science and education in the shadow of the "Russian world". There will be no examples, of course.