This interview is available in Belarusian and is part of a series produced by The Barys Zvozskau Belarusian Human Rights House and Viasna Human Rights Centre in cooperation with Human Rights House Foundation, featuring five Belarusian human rights defenders: Ales Bialiatski, Uladzimir Labkovich, Nasta Loika, Marfa Rabkova, and Valiantsin Stefanovic.

When did you feel truly free again after your release?

It has been almost five months since my release, but I still have not truly felt free. I suppose freedom is a very complex and multifaceted thing. Even though I am physically free, I do not have that feeling of freedom inside me.

For me, freedom is still the sum of all freedoms. And as long as people remain imprisoned, as long as repression continues in Belarus, I cannot feel free.

There is also the factor of transnational repression. There are things that stop you at a certain point. You understand that the price of any word or action can be very high, because families, loved ones, relatives and friends remain in Belarus. And this matters enormously, because it is another reason you do not feel free. You carry responsibility for so many things: not only for your loved ones, but also for those people who remain in Belarus and are in prison.

I think I will only feel free in Belarus when the repression ends, when all political prisoners are released, and when I am surrounded by my family and friends. That is when I will finally breathe out and feel truly free.

How difficult was it for you to leave Belarus? Do you hope to return?

Leaving Belarus was very difficult for me. I would even say that for me it was a harder blow than accepting a 15-year prison sentence. At that particular moment, at that point in time and space, it was incredibly difficult. I reacted even more emotionally than I did to my sentence.

It is strange how life works, and how hard fate can test you. You think you have already been through such life-changing events, such trials, that afterwards the balance of justice simply has to be restored. That life should pat you on the shoulder and say, “Well done, you made it. I’ll give you a little peace now.”

And instead, new difficulties immediately come crashing down on you: the challenge of life in exile. But, as they say, we will get through this too. We have no choice. There is only one option: to deal with everything that comes our way. I am deeply grateful to fate for my family, my friends and my colleagues, who have given me a shoulder to lean on and support me in every possible way.

But I have not lost hope of returning. I know that I will return. I simply cannot accept the fact that I am not at home now, that I will have to live outside my own country.

When I was sentenced to 15 years in prison, I did not accept that sentence either. I could not get used to the idea that I would only be released in 2034. I blamed myself for it, but I could do nothing about it. There was some kind of block inside me. And, as life showed, I was right: I did not need to accept it, because I was released earlier.

The same thing is happening to me now with the idea of living outside Belarus. I do not want to accept it, and I feel that I do not have to. Positive changes will happen, and they will allow me to return. I see my future only in Belarus. I see the future of my children only there. For me, this is an inseparable part of life.

So I believe and hope that the Universe will eventually say, “All right, that’s enough. You can breathe now. It is over. We are going home.”

Why do you continue to fight for human rights?

I continue to fight for human rights because it is already part of me, part of who I am. Wherever I am, whatever the circumstances, it just switches on naturally inside me. I do not need to direct myself somehow or force myself to do something. I do not even think about it. It is simply who I am.

I think this resonates with people who have had a heightened sense of justice from the beginning. When you simply cannot walk past. When you cannot watch people being hurt and know that you have no right to stay silent. Because if everyone stays silent, that person will be left in an unbearably difficult situation. And you yourself may one day find yourself in a situation where you need someone not to walk past, but to speak up for you. For me, this is a kind of chain of reciprocity: I help because I know there are people in the world who will also reach out a hand to me when things are hard.

It simply cannot be any other way. It is a natural way of living, and it does not stop. You do not stop being a human rights defender, wherever you are.

And now, when I see how difficult the situation is in the world and in our region, how deep the human rights crisis has become, when we are already talking about the most basic things, the unconditional right to life and the right not to be tortured… watching this regression, you realise that standing aside is simply not an option.

Given the enormous experience my colleagues and I gained through imprisonment, and the fact that we still remained true to ourselves, all of this gives us solid ground to continue our work. It has hardened us, united us, and shown the true value of everything we are fighting for.

What gives you hope for the future?

What gives me hope for the future are moments of humanity, empathy, interaction and mutual understanding. What impresses me most is seeing these qualities in people from whom I did not even expect them. It gives you such a powerful surge of energy, because you realise that in many people there is still a bright spark, a spark of kindness. Sometimes it is hidden or buried very deep, but it is there.

I think it is simply impossible to live without hope. A wonderful Latin saying that gave me a lot of warmth while I was in prison: “As long as there is hope, there is life.” You cannot live without hope, because hope is our striving, our dream, our path, our optimism and our goal.

This is what our development is. I believe that as human beings we need to grow spiritually and in our values, to search for truth, honesty and justice, both within ourselves and in the people around us. Without hope, that journey is impossible.

So hope lives inside us. It is the belief that something much greater exists in the world than greed, the division of resources and extreme selfishness.

What is the most important thing you would like to say to the readers of this piece?

There was one quote that gave me a lot of warmth while I was in prison. The girls in my cell and I even decided that it would be our motto. The words are very simple, but they really helped me cope.

It goes like this: “In the end, everything will be all right. And if it is not all right yet, then it is not the end.”