The Destruction of NGOs

Illustrative photo

Legal qualification:

• Article 7(1)(h) of the Rome Statute: Persecution of an identifiable group (civil society) on political grounds.

O.P., 52, was the long-time director of a human rights organization “Viasna” (name changed) in one of the regional centers. Their organization was not political in the direct sense: they were not fighting for power. They monitored elections, helped those convicted under administrative articles, and provided legal education. They had existed for 22 years. Over those years, they had helped thousands of people file complaints, win labor-dispute cases, and defend themselves against arbitrariness by local authorities.

After 2020, their work became both vitally necessary and deadly dangerous. They documented torture, collected testimonies, and kept lists of detainees. The authorities, who had previously “tolerated” them, now saw them as an enemy.

The crackdown began on the morning of 16 July 2021 — the day when searches were carried out across the country at dozens of human rights defenders and journalists. At 7 a.m., they came to O.P. Seven people: three from the KGB, two from the Department of Financial Investigations (DFR), and two “witnesses” who, as it turned out, had been brought along.

“Search as part of a criminal case on financing riots,” the senior officer said briefly, handing over a warrant. “Everyone stay where you are.”

They worked methodically and destructively. It was not a search for evidence; it was an act of destruction. They tore up floorboards, removed hard drives from all computers, including her student daughter’s old laptop. They seized every flash drive, every notebook, every business card. All bank cards. All cash they found in the apartment — about 300 dollars that O.P. had been saving for a vacation.

“Where is the grant accounting?” asked the DFR investigator.“In the office,” O.P. replied.

“Then we’re going to the office,” he said.

At the office — a small three-room ground-floor flat — a second team was already waiting. The door had been cut open with a blowtorch; the hinges were hanging by a single screw. Inside, everything was turned upside down. System units had been ripped out “with the meat,” wires cut. Folders with personal files of people they had helped were scattered across the floor.

“Ah-ha,” the investigator said with satisfaction, picking up a contract from the floor. “Western funding! Lithuania!”

O.P. tried to explain that this was an official EU grant, registered with the Department for Humanitarian Aid, for conducting seminars on the rights of people with disabilities. “All of this was legal,” she said.

“Legal?” the investigator smirked. “We’ll decide what’s legal here. You fed ‘extremists’ with this money. You churned out complaints to the UN. You shamed the country.”

The search ended with the arrest of O.P. and her accountant. They were taken to the KGB pre-trial detention center. The charges were absurd: “Tax evasion on an especially large scale.” The logic of the accusation, later voiced by the Investigative Committee, was as follows: since human rights activity in Belarus is in fact “illegal,” all grants received for it cannot be considered humanitarian aid. Therefore, they are “undeclared income” of O.P. and her colleagues as private individuals, on which they should have paid personal income tax. The “damage” calculated by the DFR exceeded 150,000 dollars.

While O.P. was in pre-trial detention, the Ministry of Justice filed a claim with the Supreme Court to liquidate their organization. The grounds: “carrying out non-charter activities” and “storing unregistered symbols in the office” (they had found a small white-red-white flag in a desk drawer).

The hearing lasted 40 minutes. The organization’s representative, who came with a power of attorney, was not even allowed into the courtroom. “Viasna,” which had defended people for 22 years, was liquidated.

O.P. spent a year in the KGB detention center. Operatives constantly summoned her for “talks,” demanding she admit guilt and “compensate the damage.” She was not allowed to see her family; her correspondence was blocked. In the end, she was sentenced to 7 years in a penal colony.

“They calculated ‘damage’ from the money that went to printing brochures on labor rights and to pay lawyers for students,” she said in her final statement, which miraculously made it to the outside world. “They are trying us for helping people. We were the last resort for anyone who came when the state turned its back on them. Now that resort is gone. They didn’t just jail me. They left thousands of people alone with the repressive machine. But they are wrong if they think that by liquidating our legal entity they have liquidated the idea of human rights.”

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