We Owe Them Victory

It's high time to pay back that debt

Yesterday, Ihar Losik faced new charges. The day before, he sent a gloomy letter from the detention centre. Ihar writes that he is tired of waiting and hoping for a good when every week during eight months it has been getting worse. He writes he has no strength, that all the efforts were in vain, and nothing will change.

The reaction to the letter on social networks was surprising. Some people suggested that Ihar was forced to write it at gunpoint. Others suggested that Losik did not write it. Others say he was broken. The fourth offered to give Ihar Phenibut.

Fortunately, there were fifth. They understand that Ihar Losik, like any political prisoner, has every right to despair, depression, a sense of loneliness and hopelessness. Ihar was arrested back in June and did not see marches of a hundred thousand and white-red-white flags on high-rise buildings, did not feel someone else's elbow in the coupling, did not hear "Change" from every window. He did not see people with his portraits in every neighbourhood and courtyard who supported him during the hunger strike, either. By the way, Ihar kept the hunger strike for 41 days. It takes much time and many efforts to recover after it.

In February, when Ihar Losik stopped his hunger strike, he wrote to his wife that he was sure everything would be fine. Now he writes it will not. The hope and the utter hopelessness in the letters of a political prisoner are normal. In prison, euphoria and despair replace each other very quickly, everyone who has been behind bars knows it. Today you receive letters from your family and friends, and you are happy. It seems that you will be free in a day or two. Then, you don't receive any correspondence for a few weeks. They don't give you any books, don't let your lawyer in. You begin to feel that you're alone in the cold early universe. Or in general, that only guards inhabit the world. You may fall into despair and write in a letter that you do not expect anything good anymore. Then the letters come, or a cellmate is released, or you catch a ray of sunlight through the bars while walking in the prison yard. Again, you realize that you will be at large out soon, good conquers evil, and evil withers before your eyes, causing laughter instead of fear.

Anyway, there is one key thing that we must all accept as an axiom: political prisoners owe us nothing. We subconsciously expect spirit inspiring letters and statements from them. We expect approval of our actions, psychotherapy sessions and messages to the Corinthians. We don't see that we begin to make demands on them this way. We don't have that right. When a prison cell closes behind a person, he or she owes us nothing. However, from that moment on, we owe him. We must write to him optimistic letters. We must help his family, disseminate information about him, publish his portrait. At the very least, it's our job to at least remember his last name. The latter, by the way, is a must-do. The principle "get jailed and be equal" is unconditional. Mikalai Statkevich, who devoted a quarter of a century to the resistance and served eight years in prison, and Viktar Babaryka, who never took part in the protests, are equal political prisoners. As well as thousands of other political prisoners - from resistance veteran Pavel Sevyarynets to the boy and girl who wrote "we will not forget" on the pavement. We owe them. Our debt is intangible but huge: we owe them to victory. It's the only option that will help them out.

The rest is up to each individual. My friend, for example, does not write pathetic words of support to political prisoners at all. She says: "Why would I write to a person in prison "dear friend, you're a hero. We'll never forget you! I'd rather try to cheer him up." She finds funny and witty stand-up monologues, takes notes and sends them to political prisoners so they could laugh. A friend draws funny pictures. An acquaintance sends money orders to ten political prisoners - for a ruble each week. Thus, she sends greetings and is not afraid of prison censorship. In general, our ingenuity, which the whole world has been admiring since last summer, provides us with many opportunities.

Yesterday, Ihar Losik went on a new hunger strike in protest. This time it's a dry one. In my opinion, it's time to pay back the politicians what we owe them. It's victory.

Iryna Khalip, especially for Charter97.org

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