"You Can Get Through Anything As Long As You Have Someone To Love, Someone To Care For, And Someone To Trust."
- 21.08.2026, 10:29
The first post by the distinguished surgeon Andrei Lyubetsky after his release.
The first post by the distinguished maxillofacial surgeon Andrei Lyubetsky after his release. The former political prisoner spent more than five years behind bars.
“To be honest, I did wonder whether it was worth doing—writing a book? As you’ve probably already noticed, it is. And below I’ll try to explain why,” writes Andrei Lyubetsky. “I was asked repeatedly (while I was there) if I wanted to write a book. I answered evasively and with a sense of humor, which—I very much hope—I haven’t lost over time.”
I want to mention right away that I still have access to only two of my pages. A couple of days ago, I wrote to Facebook’s technical support asking them to delete all my pages (except for one). Maybe I’ll delete the remaining ones myself a little later and “start my life with a clean slate.”
Yes, a lot has changed during this time, and it’s just hanging in the air.
But that’s not what today is about.
As I’m coming back and reintegrating into society, I can see and understand very clearly (and I knew this might happen) that some people (my acquaintances) will be afraid, will avoid me, will feel tense… I understand this as best I can and never judge them—after all, I’m not a judge, an investigator, or a prosecutor.
And yes, this information (about the book and access to Facebook) isn’t just—or even primarily—for my friends, but rather for…
I won’t be writing the book (at least not anytime soon). Or maybe I won’t write one at all—time will tell.
Since I don’t have access to the other pages and have written to Facebook’s technical support, I personally absolve myself of any responsibility for what happens on the pages to which I’ve lost access. Especially since there’s such a thing as a statute of limitations (for one thing), and I’ve already been punished for these “crimes.”
And yet, most of my acquaintances (and others) reacted to my calls very—to put it mildly—positively. I finally decided to write at least a few words after talking to some people who had a very similar reaction.
She (one of them…) simply couldn’t speak for a while because she was choked up with tears. She’s an older woman—not what some people (I won’t point fingers) might have thought. And I realized I had no right not to write.
After all, I can’t call everyone, I can’t meet with everyone (physically speaking), and people were waiting—some were waiting quietly, while others sent words of support in letters that stopped coming to me after February 24, 2022.
So that’s exactly why I’m here. From the bottom of my heart, I want to say thank you to all of you, my dear ones—THANK YOU for being there all this time, for not letting me give up or wallow in self-pity, and for forcing me to stay on my toes.
Now, as I’m often running around to various government offices, strangers ask me, “How did you manage to hold on…?” I answer briefly and simply, saying—a person is such a being…
You can figure the rest out for yourselves.
But here and now, I want to elaborate a bit more, and you’ll understand a lot.
Once, my father gave me a watch with an engraving (text) for my birthday. This quote was written in my diary, etched in my mind, and engraved on my soul.
You can get through anything in this life as long as you have something to live for, someone to love, someone to care for, and someone to trust.
My father is no longer with us, but I still have the watch with that engraving.
When they came to me and told me (9 days before my release) that I would not be released (they came on September 29, 2025; I was scheduled for release on October 8, 2025), I was already prepared for it, as much as was possible. So this person said (after talking with me) that for the first time in his entire career, he had seen someone who showed absolutely no signs of having been in these places. Gestures, intonation, the look in one’s eyes—anything at all—gives a person away.
Now I’m using a term from those places; in this way, I want to counter this person and say that I did, after all, bring something back with me from there, and I’ll use it from time to time…
I’ll briefly tell you how I got around. Yes, that’s the very word. And there are, after all, different ways to go about things. You can smoke and drink, play backgammon, swear at every turn—and not give a damn.
But I’ve always lived and acted as if I were constantly being watched. And it’s not those whose job it is to watch me—it’s my children, my family, my friends, and so on.
I studied German for two and a half years, and English for two and a half.
At times, I exercised to the point of exhaustion, even though I had no access to sports equipment. I worked with (psychological) “exercise machines”—people from different “castes, classes, and social statuses.” I read a lot (especially in the so-called “inside world”).
With very, very few exceptions, I addressed everyone formally. This included both staff and inmates, including those half my age, and so on.
And to the question of whether I have any regrets—which people have already begun asking me—I’ll answer all of you this way: please answer for me yourselves, for my answer lies in my personal feelings, emotions, and experiences.
This is my destiny. This is my fate. Geta moy les. Das ist mein Schicksal
To understand this—or to answer in a way that makes it clear—you’d have to dive right into it all, which is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone, not even my enemies. Speaking of them—my detractors and enemies—I forgot to thank you all just a moment ago. Thank you, too, for being there all this time and making this journey possible for me.
As I’m joking now, I currently have three levels of education: secondary, higher, and lower. And they’re all wonderful.
I want to answer in advance the many questions about my departure. I’m under six months of probation. That’s the main reason—though not the only one—why I won’t be going anywhere. There are plenty of other reasons, too. I’ll be getting my thoughts, my daily life, my teeth, and other matters in order.
I’ll get a facelift eventually… Not for myself.
Of course, I have a huge number of all kinds of stories, both positive and not so positive. I’ll tell you one for now. How I met a coworker who’s about half my age.
He asked, “Do I know who he is?”
I said, “Yes, you’re so-and-so…”
He replied, “And I know who you are…”
“Okay,” I thought to myself.
“You’re the best surgeon in Belarus.”
How does he know that? Did he Google it? I didn’t bother to correct him, saying that wasn’t true; I just kept quiet… And anyway, I was practically always silent there and didn’t respond to the various jabs—which weren’t all that frequent, to be honest.
And once, when I was being admitted to one of those places, a staff member asked me, “Do you have a nickname!?”
I said I did…
When I was teaching at the university, the international students called me “Jesus.”
He snorted, so I said I had another one, a slightly more modest one—“Doc.”
To wrap things up, I’ll write my latest poem (from those places).
When you grasp the truth, my friend,
Just remember the main thing, just one thing…
That the truth lies in the ashes,
Which we call the bottom.
That this bottom is strewn with bodies,
And the corpses of heroes of every kind.
That truth has been trampled underfoot,
And hidden beneath a heap of their bones.
I’ll leave it at that. With respect and gratitude.”
Andrei Lyubetsky was detained on May 4, 2021. His trial took place a year later under the following articles of the Criminal Code: Part 1 of Article 342 (participation in actions that grossly violate public order); Part 1 of Article 130 (incitement of social hostility); Article 369 (insulting a public official); and Parts 1 and 2 of Article 368 (insulting Lukashenko).
In May 2022, the court handed down a sentence of five years in a penal colony.
The court also ordered the man to pay 2,000 rubles as “compensation for emotional distress” to Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs Nikolai Karpenkov. To serve his sentence, the doctor was sent to Bobruisk Penal Colony No. 2.
In June 2024, Lyubetsky was transferred to a maximum-security prison and sent to Zhodino. Shortly before his scheduled release, his sentence was extended by another year.