The Belarusian opposition condemns Lukashenko and Sunday's election

Svetlana Tikhanovskaya refuses to call what is happening this weekend in Belarus an election.

“It's a scam,” says the exiled opposition leader. “This is a military-style operation; a performance staged by the regime to hold on to power.

For three decades, the country has been led by the increasingly authoritarian Alexander Lukashenko, now firmly backed by Vladimir Putin, who is using his neighbor in his full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

This Sunday, Belarusians will once again see Lukashenko's name on the ballot with four other names carefully chosen not to pose a challenge.

Independent observers are not allowed.

The strict controls were introduced because the last time Belarusians voted for a president, the country was swept by gigantic protests.

In 2020 Alexander Lukashenko allowed Svetlana Tikhanovskaya to run against him, believing that a political novice – and a woman – would not make an impact.

It was a huge miscalculation.

Tikhanovskaya, who decided to stand in her husband's place after Lukashenko jailed him, declared victory.

When Lukashenko received 80% of the vote, crowds took to the streets in the biggest threat to Lukashenko's rule. The protests were eventually crushed by riot police with mass arrests and brute force.

Then the European Union refused to recognize the legitimacy of Lukashenko as president.

Today, all the key opposition figures from that period are in prison or have fled abroad, like Tikhanovskaya. Former protesters still in Belarus were scared and kept quiet.

So the opposition leader is not calling them to take to the streets again on Sunday.

“We call on Belarusians to reject this fraud and the international community to reject the result,” she told the BBC. “But I say to the Belarusians, you have to beware until the real moment of opportunity.

“Because people live in constant fear, and the regime is now intensifying repression.

You immediately feel this fear when you talk to Belarusians.

Many do not want to talk about politics in public at all. Others ask you to change their names, then choose their words carefully.

Some still in Belarus only communicate through encrypted messages, which they delete immediately.

Everyone says that open political activism in the country has died down.

Bysol, a nonprofit organization that helps evacuate those in danger, reports a jump in requests to about 30 or 40 requests a month.

From 2020 the group has evacuated more than 1,500 people.

It also supports former political prisoners who are trying to rebuild their lives in exile after their release.

For Yana Zhuravleva, a veterinarian, this was difficult.

Before 2020 she was devoted to her work and not particularly politically active. But this summer, she joined the massive crowds, hoping for a change.

She was later sentenced to three years for “gross breach of public order”.

“We were punished for everything,” she recalls of her time in prison.

She estimates that about 1 in 10 women were there because of the protests. Like them, Yana was added to the register of those “prone to extremism and destructive activity”.

“You can't go to the gym, your only letters are from relatives and you get less visiting rights. If you complain, you always hear the same answer: remember what you're here for,” she tells me from Poland, where she moved after her recent release.

Yana admits that it took “titanic” strength not to fall into a deep depression.

“I hardly cried in prison. But when I came out, I suddenly wanted to sob all the time and I didn't know why.'

Several people I contacted mentioned that they had sought psychological help after being interrogated, threatened or imprisoned.

They describe a security service that hunts down anyone with the slightest link to the opposition, then demands the names of anyone it detains.

The pressure never let up.

A woman human rights monitor in Belarus tells me she had to stop attending court hearings because the authorities noticed her.

If they can prove any connection with the banned human rights organization Vyasna, it could be charged as an “extremist”.

“I can do some concrete acts of support, but I have to be careful,” she told me anonymously.

“You have a very strong sense of helplessness when you see all this injustice.

Viasna currently lists 1,256 political prisoners in Belarus. Dozens were recently amnestied but soon replaced.

For those who escape the pressure cooker of Belarus, there is the added difficulty of knowing that they may not return for a long time.

That's why Natalia, not her real name, decided to stay in Belarus even after being detained twice for participating in protests.

“You're very vulnerable when you're on the 'repressed' list,” she explains.

“You can't get a job because you're on the police database and the authorities are always watching you…”

For Natalia, this meant being arrested again, initially for walking her dog without reason.

“They said I was aggressive and swore loudly and waved my hands,” she recalled of her detention in 2023. She was held for ten days with up to 14 people in a cell for two, with the lights on all the time.

She had been sleeping on the wooden floor for over a week.

“It really shook my sense of security, I became much more anxious,” Natalia confides.

He is currently abroad and plans to return to his cats soon. But her neighbors say a police officer has just visited her house to check on any potential protesters ahead of Sunday's vote.

Svetlana Tikhanovskaya believes that the ongoing crackdown shows that Lukashenko and his allies are afraid.

“The Trauma of 2020 is still alive and he must eliminate any possibility of an uprising,” argued the opposition leader.

“He knows that Belarusians have not accepted or forgiven him and still want change.

But she admits there is little sign of that in the short term.

For some time after Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Belarusians hoped that their neighbors might be able to defeat Putin with Western help and that Lukashenko would follow suit.

Some took to the front lines themselves, choosing force after their peaceful protests failed.

But the Ukrainian military is now struggling to hold on and President Donald Trump is pushing for peace talks.

“The democratic world cannot make concessions to Putin,” argued Tikhanovskaya, describing Lukashenko as equally dangerous to the world.

He allowed Russia to fire missiles at Ukraine from Belarus and sent its tanks through its territory.

It also allowed the free flow of migrants to the Polish border and to the EU.

“It allows Putin to deploy nuclear weapons and his army in Belarus, and the road to Poland and Lithuania is very short,” Tikhanovskaya points out.

“He and Putin are a couple and they support other dictators. He is part of this chain of evil.”

There is no doubt that Alexander Lukashenko's recovery on Sunday will go according to plan.

“These people are very capable,” explains former political prisoner Yana.

“They really crushed the potential for protest.

Now she is trying to return to her profession as a veterinarian, but in Poland, and recover from three hard years behind bars.

Those I spoke to now see Lukashenko's retirement or eventual death as their best hope of seeing democracy.

Meanwhile, many are changing their focus: there is a surge of interest in reviving Belarusian culture and language, an opposition cause. It is the most that many dare to do under such circumstances.

“No one says it openly, but it seems to us that there are no prospects. There is depression,” Natalia admits.

But no apparent regrets, though.

The life of Svetlana Tikhanovskaya herself has changed dramatically since she entered politics.

Cut off from his country, her husband is also a political prisoner – held in complete isolation for almost two years.

The opposition leader insists he still “really believes” in change.

“2020 it was a huge change in mentality in Belarus. I don't know how long it will take, but this change is not going away.”