We're Fighting In The Wrong Place

• Irina Khalip
• 31.07.2026, 10:09

Belarusians didn't vote for either Dima Bilan or Lukashenko.

This past weekend, Belarus hosted the latest Viva Braslav festival. And in the days leading up to the festival, Belarusians who had left the country took to social media to vehemently condemn those who remained for planning to attend the festival: “How is this even possible? All decent people left long ago; Belarusian musicians are performing abroad, but here they’ve brought in Russians—and going to Braslav to listen to Dima Bilan is a betrayal.”

This reminded me very much of the same kind of fervor leading up to the Outloud rock festival, which took place in Warsaw in June. It would seem that the crowd there was homogeneous: exclusively those who had left the country, exclusively “enemies of the people,” exclusively the opposition. But back then, on social media, my compatriots tore into Lyavon Volsky, attacking him with the ferocity of party officials: how dare “our man” share the stage with Boris Grebenshchikov? BG is Russian, after all—this is unworthy of Volsky, and we will not forgive him for betraying national interests! And Lyavon gave in. He couldn’t withstand such widespread condemnation. As a result, Volsky lost the opportunity to perform before a huge and very appreciative audience—before like-minded people from different countries. The festival, by the way, only benefited: instead of Volsky, the band “Dai Darogu!” performed, and Yuri Stylsky truly set the dance floor ablaze with his wild charisma and energy. The crowd sang along to his songs, everyone shouted “Long Live Belarus!” and “Glory to Ukraine!” in unison, slam-danced, waved flags, and bonded. Ukrainians and Russians who hadn’t heard of “Dai Darogu!” before searched for their songs on their phones right there at the festival and downloaded them to listen to later. It was a brilliant performance, just like J:Mors’s at the same festival.

Neither group can perform in Belarus right now. The country has been left in ruins, but people still live there. There are millions of Belarusians there with whom we stood shoulder to shoulder in human chains and sat in police vans. And these people now live in constant tension, waiting for the security forces to break down their doors; they flinch at cars with tinted windows, can’t relax even on the weekends, and are constantly checking their phones. And when they want to head out for the weekend to a place where at least the illusion of freedom awaits them—and where they can connect with others who are just as eager for that very freedom—they’re suddenly told from across the border: “You can’t do that; by doing so, you’ll be betraying our common cause.”

Incidentally, for the few Belarusian musicians remaining in the country, Viva Braslav is the last venue available to them. These musicians, too, had a choice—either swear allegiance to the regime and receive “gigs” without any trouble, perform for officials on national holidays and publicly swear eternal love for the ruler, or remain in a semi-underground existence in their homeland and take comfort in the fact that at least Viva Braslav exists, where they have a chance to perform for their own people. In front of an appreciative audience.

This year, three Belarusian artists participated in the festival: the band “Davai na Ty,” the Novopolotsk trio VARZAN & ROOMEE & KAPSHUL, and Kirill Ermakov, performing under the stage name LYRIQ. Last year’s lineup included Police in Paris, Almary, and HollyFlame. Yes, these are nothing like the festivals of the past decade, when “Liapisy,” “Mutnaevoka,” Iowa, and LSP all performed there. After all, back then they weren’t yet locking people up by the thousands for just a sidelong glance. And there were plenty of festivals. So it’s pointless to say, “Those were the days, but now it’s impossible.” (Times were lousy back then, too, by the way—it’s just that most people preferred not to know it.) In the current situation, the organizers of Viva Braslav are at least trying to give people a chance to spend two days away from the GUBOPiK and fear. And those who went there certainly shouldn’t be accused of listening to the wrong kind of music. I, for one, would never go to a NaviBand concert—for me, the band was over in 2017, when they performed for the KGB at their corporate party. But it would never occur to me to shout something on social media like, “Don’t you dare go to concerts by these KGB lackeys!” Everyone listens to whatever they want.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t criticize each other. We absolutely should—for indecisiveness, for a lack of critical thinking, for short memories, for a willingness to believe any charlatan from any side. But certainly not for what kind of music we listen to. Even if it’s Dima Bilan.

And finally, one more thing. One day, when mass protests break out again—and this will inevitably happen, and unexpectedly for everyone—it will be precisely those those who listened to Dima Bilan last weekend, will be dying on the barricades for us, who have happily escaped repression and are safe. We simply won’t have time to come to their aid. By the way, they didn’t choose Dima Bilan. Just as they didn’t choose Lukashenko.

Irina Khalip, exclusively for Charter97.org