On January 2, 2026, authorities in Minsk opened a new front in their ongoing crackdown on dissent, launching an extremism-related case against exiled priest Alaksandar Kuchta. This move comes amid a broader campaign that has swept up not only religious leaders but also ordinary citizens and activists who have expressed opposition to Belarusian government policies or shown support for Ukraine in the ongoing war with Russia. According to Pozirk, Kuchta is accused of recruiting and involving others in extremist activities—a charge he announced himself via his Telegram channel.
Kuchta’s story is emblematic of the fraught intersection between faith, politics, and war in Belarus today. Once a priest of the Russian Orthodox Church, he fled his homeland fearing persecution after criticizing both the Belarusian government and Russia’s war against Ukraine. In April 2023, after being banned from the priesthood by the Belarusian Exarchate of the Russian Orthodox Church for leaving his parish without permission, Kuchta joined the Church of Constantinople, the spiritual center of Eastern Orthodoxy led by Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I. Alongside fellow exiled priest Heorhi Roj, he founded a Belarusian parish of the Church of Constantinople in Vilnius, Lithuania—a move that signaled both a spiritual and political realignment.
But Kuchta is far from alone in facing official retribution. The Chryscianskaja Vizija advocacy group reports that since the fall of 2020, at least 92 Christian priests in Belarus have been persecuted. The government’s intolerance for dissent extends well beyond the pulpit, ensnaring a wide range of Belarusians—many of whom have been designated political prisoners by human rights organizations.
Take the case of Ihar Karatkou, an IT specialist currently serving a five-year sentence at Corrective Colony No. 2 in Babruysk. His crime? Donating the equivalent of about $10 to the Kastus Kalinouski Regiment, a unit of Belarusian volunteers fighting on the side of Kyiv in the Russian war against Ukraine. As reported by RFE/RL, Karatkou’s conviction falls under a law that prohibits participation or preparation for hostilities on foreign soil, as well as recruiting, training, and financing such activities. He is one of about 200 Belarusians activists say have been imprisoned under these statutes.
Another high-profile case is that of Vasil Hrachykha, who fought with the Kalinouski Regiment for a few weeks in 2022. Earlier this year, he was sentenced to five years in prison. A state television report showed a man believed to be Hrachykha being detained by KGB officers in a swampy area, then taken away by helicopter with a bag over his head—a chilling reminder of the state’s methods.
For many, these imprisonments are not just legal matters, but deeply political acts. The Belarusian human rights group Vyasna had more than 1,130 names on its list of political prisoners as of December 2025, even after a series of prisoner releases. These releases, analysts suggest, are part of President Aleksandr Lukashenko’s attempt to improve ties with the West—an effort that included a U.S.-brokered deal in December 2025 to free 123 prisoners, including some prominent opposition figures. The move followed Washington’s indication that it would lift sanctions on Belarusian fertilizer exports, a major sector of the country’s economy.
Among those freed in December was Alyaksey Kaplich. In March 2025, the day after his eighteenth birthday, Kaplich tried to travel to Ukraine to join the fight against Russia, only to be detained at Minsk airport before he could board a flight to Tbilisi. He described his arrest to RFE/RL: “They put a sack over my head, handcuffs, and drove me in a minibus, lying down,” with the boots of a special forces officer pressing on his back and legs. Convicted in the summer and sentenced to two years in prison, Kaplich was released as part of the December deal. Now in Vilnius, he is determined to continue his journey to Ukraine. “I can’t stand to watch how they… bomb and kill—intentionally kill—peaceful civilians. I just can’t watch it anymore,” he told RFE/RL.
The Belarusian government’s legal rationale for these prosecutions is clear: citizens and permanent residents are prohibited from joining foreign armed formations or taking part in armed conflicts without state authorization. The law also outlaws recruiting, training, and financing such activities. But, as Maryna Kasinerava of the human rights group Dissidentby told RFE/RL, the law is selectively applied. “Mercenaries fighting for Russia are not prosecuted in Belarus,” she said. By contrast, those linked to Ukraine face systematic repression—including pressure on relatives, violence, and, in some cases, torture.
This selective enforcement is deeply political. Belarus remains a close military ally of Russia, providing logistical support and echoing Kremlin threats toward NATO. Yet, since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, hundreds of Belarusians have crossed the border to fight for Kyiv. Political analyst Artsyom Shraybman, a nonresident scholar at the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center, explained to RFE/RL, “Punishing and sentencing people who fought for Ukraine is more likely Lukashenko’s own decision than the result of pressure from the Kremlin.” He added that the state views these individuals as “very ideological and principled in being anti-Russian—and, by extension, very likely anti-regime.”
The crackdown has not been limited to those who fought in Ukraine. In late 2023, twenty-year-old Danila Harasim was sentenced to 10 years in prison for photographing military equipment and attempting to join the Kalinouski Regiment. State television accused him of planning to sabotage a train and passing images to Ukrainian intelligence. Rights groups say at least 10 Belarusian volunteers have been tried in absentia, while at least 15 others have been convicted for allegedly attempting to go to war. Only a handful have been detained and convicted inside Belarus specifically for fighting for Ukraine, with sentences ranging from five to thirteen years in prison.
One such case is that of Vasil Verameychyk, a former deputy battalion commander in the Kalinouski Regiment. After being declared a “threat to national security” by Lithuania and barred from entering Ukraine, he traveled to Vietnam, where he was detained and handed over to Belarus. Tried on 12 criminal charges, Verameychyk received a 13-year sentence in a maximum-security prison.
Despite these harsh measures, Belarusian human rights groups—many now operating in exile—remain determined to document every case. “We will keep documenting all political prisoners, including those who supported or fought for Ukraine. We hope everyone will be released and the repression will end,” said Kasinerava to RFE/RL.
As the Belarusian government continues to wield its legal system as a tool of political control, the fate of those who have spoken out, taken up arms, or simply donated a few dollars in support of Ukraine remains uncertain. But the stories of Kuchta, Karatkou, Kaplich, and countless others illustrate the high personal costs of dissent—and the enduring struggle for freedom and justice in Belarus.
