Protest Is Not Tire, It Won’t Go Flat

The Belarusians have turned Lukashenka into a worldwide clown.

I do not want to hear "last week there were more people". I don't want to see "look at the record, they used to occupy three more streets". I don't want to answer "it was to be expected. It always happens. It's dialectics". It always happens in different ways. However, the result is the same: the fall of tyranny and the victory of people.

I do not know how a perfect revolution looks like. Probably it looks as follows: people take to the streets, law enforcers immediately put down their weapons and join the masses, Lukashenka arrives and voluntarily puts on handcuffs, confesses and begs forgiveness, taking the keys to the prisons out of his pocket. The prisons immediately open, releasing all political prisoners, restaurants and bars work till morning, planes with world stars on board land at the airport, and hurry to perform at the Welcome Democracy Fest.

Nevertheless, no perfect revolution exist. Yes, we could have won on the first day. We could have won ten years ago. Or we couldn't take to the streets at all, as it happened before, and agree to another five years of viscous dull sleep somewhere between November and February when neither day nor year matters as the change of dates still brings nothing - neither bad nor good. Remember our streets on Sunday two, three, five years ago. They were empty. Remember our evening yards - they used to be deserted. Remember passers-by who shifted gaze. We did not even look at each other. Look at us today.

We walk in our streets and laugh at the riot police. We look at each other and smile because now we are together, and we are not afraid. We gather in the evenings in the yards, though we used to prefer to reach the entrance door quickly. We leave keys to our neighbours just in case, though we didn't know their names six months ago. We open the doors of entrances and apartments for strangers. We know that our streets no longer belong to the invaders. It happened in just three months. Before that, they used to be lords of the streets for a quarter of a century.

The main thing we did during this time was the destruction of Lukashenka. Yes, we do not know yet who we will be the net president and whether we need it at all. But the former one, once fairly elected and quickly usurped the power, is gone. We crossed him out of the world agenda. For twenty years, the world has called him "illegitimate, but acting". Now he has no name because he does not even act. Lukashenka is no longer in politics. The Belarusians have turned him into a worldwide clown.

Yes, he still unleashes riot police - it is just phosphorus. Yes, the eyes of the Baskerville dog shot by Holmes shined that way in the night swamp. It is dying, its teeth and claws are no longer working, it can no longer injure anyone, but its eyes still glowing eerily. However, it can no longer deceive anyone and make them afraid. Holmes goes to the Huguenots play.

So let's not compare last Sundays and regret that yesterday there were more people in the streets than today, and tomorrow its number can be even less. The protest is not a tire, it won't go flat. It is useless to compare the Sunday walks of Belarusians. Winter is coming, pandemic, seasonal colds - certainly, it's not the most colourful situation. Are these obstacles, after all, we have already done? Yes, Belarusians are responsible people, those who are ill will not go to the march. They will be right. Our task is not to die as heroes in the name of freedom. Our task is to survive and win. The martyrology is too big. We must survive for the sake of those who died in all these 26 years. And to win, otherwise, it is no life at all.

You know, for the first time in my life, I completely agree with Kachanava, who wanted to intimidate doctors with the phrase "there will be no dialogue on the streets". Of course, there will be not, she is right. Her every word is correct. After all, we have nothing to talk about with them at all - neither outdoors nor indoors. They will have a dialogue not with us, but a formal one with an investigator. It always happens not on the streets, but in offices.

Iryna Khalip, especially for charter97.org

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