“The Comment Case”

Illustrative photo

Legal qualification:

• Article 7(1)(h) of the Rome Statute: persecution of an identifiable group (critics of the authorities) for political reasons.

• Article 7(1)(e): arbitrary deprivation of liberty.

A.B., 45, was a repair locksmith at the Minsk Tractor Works. A typical “working man”: 20 years at one factory, respected in the shop, two children, a mortgage. He had never been involved in politics, but in 2020 something inside him broke. He saw colleagues fired, beaten, dragged to the KGB for taking part in strikes. His outrage needed an outlet.

He found it on Telegram. He subscribed to several channels labeled “extremist” by the authorities and, in the evenings after work, began to “fight” in the comments. Under the nickname “MTZ-Sila”, he wrote what he really thought.

In 2021, after another harsh sentence in court, he left a comment under a post about a judge:“Burn in hell, servant.”Under a photo of a riot policeman beating a woman, he wrote:“I hope this …’s children see who their father really is.”Just a few lines of powerless anger. He wrote them and forgot.

Eight months later, at 5:30 a.m., SOBR officers broke into his apartment. They didn’t ring. They cut out the lock. A.B. was pulled off the bed, forced to the floor, handcuffed in front of his terrified wife and crying children.“What’s happening?!” he shouted.“You commented yourself into trouble, ‘Sila’,” one of the officers smirked.

He was taken to the Investigative Committee. A young lieutenant dropped a folder in front of him — printed screenshots of his comments. His nickname had been de-anonymized.

“Yours?” the investigator asked.

A.B. was stunned. “Mine… I guess… I don’t remember. It’s just words on the internet.”

“‘Just words’, huh?” the investigator mocked. “Well, the Criminal Code sees it differently.”

A.B. was charged under two articles:

• Article 369 of the Criminal Code — “Insulting a representative of authority” (for the comment about the judge).

• Article 130 of the Criminal Code — “Incitement of social hatred” (for the comment about the riot policeman, classified as a representative of the ‘social group’ of security officers).

“What incitement?” A.B. protested. “I was just angry!”

“Your comments,” the investigator read monotonously,“formed a negative image of representatives of authority, undermined trust in the state, and contributed to the escalation of tension by inciting social hatred based on professional affiliation.”

A.B. was placed in pre-trial detention on Valadarskaha Street — “Volodarka”. The 45-year-old factory worker ended up sharing a cell with twenty other “politicals”: a doctor, an IT specialist, a student, an anarchist. All imprisoned for “words”.

The trial was demonstrative. It took place in the same district court where the judge he “insulted” worked. Another judge presided, openly hostile. The lawyer tried to prove that the comments contained no “incitement”, only “emotional value judgments”. That “riot police officers” did not constitute a separate “social group”.

The prosecutor demanded 4 years in prison.

In his final statement, A.B. tried to appeal to the court:“Your Honor, I’ve worked 20 years at the factory. I am an honest worker. I am not a terrorist. I am not an extremist. I simply could not stay silent when I saw injustice. Can a man really be imprisoned for four years for a few angry words? I have children…”

Sentence: 4 years in a general-regime colony.

As he was being led out, his wife managed to shout: “I love you!”He turned and asked the guards: “For what, men? For words?”They looked away.

A.B.’s “comment case” became one of thousands. The state industrialized the criminalization of dissent. An ordinary factory worker was equated with a dangerous criminal and thrown into prison for a few lines of text online — because the regime had declared war not only on actions, but on the very thoughts of its citizens.

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