Katsiaryna Andreeva: I was mentally prepared to serve two years for that livestream, but everything fell apart when I was accused of treason against the state

Katsiaryna Andreeva free. Vilnius, March 19, 2026. Photo: Nasha Niva

"I don't yet fully realize that I am free"

— What were your first feelings after your release?

— My first feelings were something akin to a mild panic attack. Lots of transport, lots of people, lots of cyclists, movement, noise. For the first week, I only crossed the road holding someone's hand. Then I started walking by myself, then I re-learned how to ride in a taxi. And only then — by public transport, because that was the scariest.

Now, in some everyday things, I've more or less adapted. But you still don't fully realize that you are free.

For example, yesterday I was walking near Warszawa Centralna. There were many police officers standing in groups. I catch myself thinking: I want to say 'good day' to them. Because when you're in the system and you see an officer, but you don't greet them, you don't turn to them — that's already a report, a punishment.

"A Minibus Can Be Ordinary. But the Body Already Reacts"

Strong triggers remain, I feel uneasy when there are many people around. I feel uneasy when a minibus drives by. It can be an absolutely ordinary minibus, nothing special. But inside, the stop signal already goes off.

You see something that reminds you of the penal colony, and your body reacts before your consciousness does.

But I no longer get up at six in the morning. I don't want to keep my hands behind my back. On the whole, adaptation has occurred, considering where I was just a month ago. And that's not the penal colony in Homel.

— What was it then?

— I was held in the KGB pre-trial detention center in Minsk for more than a month before my release. And only now am I starting to talk about it.

Perhaps they were just stalling for time, because they themselves didn't know when the negotiations would take place, when Cole would arrive. Maybe they wanted to keep such, more high-profile individuals, under close watch and simultaneously stall for time. I don't understand their logic.

From March 7 to the 19th, until my release, I was held in solitary confinement in the "Amerikanka". When they took me out of the penal colony, I initially thought: maybe they are just taking me to the border? They drove me from Homel to Minsk with a hat pulled over my face. When I asked where they were taking me and what was happening, the answer was always the same: "Sit quietly. Don't ask questions." When they took off the hat, I saw that I was in the "Amerikanka".

And the next day, the first thing they asked me was: "How would you feel about a third term?" Cheerful, right?

"They confiscated all my correspondence from five years"

— Did they give you any hint that things were moving towards your release?

— Absolutely not.

No one told me that I would be released. No one gave me to understand that I was being taken out. I didn't see a single document confirming a pardon. And no one even verbally told us. I heard that we were free only at the Lithuanian border. Until then, we didn't even know which country we were going towards.

— So you don't have any "release" documents or papers?

— Nothing. Including my passport. Everything remained there.

At the stage of being taken out of the penal colony, it was forbidden to take letters with me. They confiscated all my correspondence from five years. Absolutely everything. Letters, notebooks, diary entries, personal notes. It just disappeared.

Павялічыць

Katsiaryna Andreeva. March 25, 2026. Photo: lookby.media

— Have you moved on from that livestream from the Square of Changes? Many people after release say that with imprisonment, time stopped at that moment, like, you went in in 2020, came out in 2025, but mentally — as if still there. Were those events with you all the time there?

— Moved on, definitely moved on. I understood that I had done my part of the work, moreover, I'll tell you: I was prepared to serve those two years for that livestream, which Dasha and I were initially given.

I even felt that I was gaining more experience, some weight even in the journalistic community. And indeed, the work was done qualitatively, I am not ashamed of it. Considering also that a day in the SIZO counted as one and a half, it seemed not so much.

In principle, at 27 years old, I could understand that it was still a lot, but, of course, we hoped for some alternative punishment. House arrest, so to speak. Well, okay, such work is worth it — those were my thoughts. There was no feeling that I had simply wasted this time of my life.

But everything fell apart when, six months before my release, I was charged with treason against the state. They immediately said: "You will get 15 years. Prepare for the maximum."

Mentally, I was not prepared for this, I was preparing to be released.

"There was no hint that I might not be released at the end of my term"

— Did you feel anything, any preparation for a new case?

— No hints whatsoever. It was difficult for me there, of course. There was constant moral pressure from the penal colony administration during the first term. I would call it both mockery and even psychological torture, aimed at making me admit my guilt in organizing that protest on the Square of Changes. To prevent me from continuing to assert that I was simply doing my job there. But there was no hint that I might not be released at the end of my term. I think they themselves didn't know about the new case until the last moment.

And then this investigator appeared in February 2022. An ordinary day, we were standing at the exit after lunch, preparing to go to the factory. And they called me aside — and that's how it all started.

— It was always said that the essence of your new case was unknown even to relatives. Can you talk about the accusations now?

— That's absolutely true — the essence of the case was unknown to my loved ones. But look, this case is classified. I signed an undertaking that if I violate this classification, a new criminal case for disclosing state secrets will automatically be initiated. And in Belarus, there is a hostage — my husband, Ihar Ilyash.

Павялічыць

Ihar Ilyash. September 16, 2025. Photo: Siarhei Vahanau's Facebook page

I can say that the trial was completely closed, they only announced the operative part, from which nothing substantial could be understood. Ihar entered the courtroom, we exchanged air kisses — and that was it. That is, the essence of the case is known only to the judge, the prosecutor, and the lawyer.

I saw how Ihar covered all of this. I admire it greatly, but I always wanted him to understand that the most sharp comments and messages very quickly affect the person there. Either you are punished, or you are simply mocked. And if you are already a public figure, you live under scrutiny all the time, you understand? That's why I weigh every word I say publicly and even non-publicly about Ihar.

About this second case of mine, I can say only one thing — it was based on journalistic material.

And I can read out the official wording, because I was lucky — I don't have a passport, but I have both my sentences, both my appeals, and the detention order. This is what it says: "Not having journalist accreditation for mass media on the territory of the Republic of Belarus, being a representative of a foreign organization, she collected and stored information for the purpose of transferring and subsequently intentionally provided to the foreign state of the Republic of Poland information constituting state secrets of the Republic of Belarus."

— Providing state secrets?

— Yes, initially I was charged with providing, and then perhaps they realized that only someone entrusted with such information through their official duties can provide it. I, as you understand, was not entrusted (smiles). I am a journalist. And then the appeal changed my sentence. They kept the same term but wrote: "consider the guilty party convicted of espionage."

— "Polish spy"?

— It turns out, yes, the first "Polish spy" among Belarusian journalists.

Didn't watch the movie about myself

— Following up on the "Polish" theme. Have you seen the film "Under the Grey Sky" by Mara Tamkovich?

— No, I haven't watched it. Because it's still very sensitive for me, very difficult. It's sensitive for me to watch any footage showing Ihar without me. I know there are shots of Ihar being detained. That's hard for me.

I initially thought I would watch Mara Tamkovich's film with Ihar. But now I'm starting to think a little that he watched it without me. So maybe a public viewing by me could actually draw more attention to Ihar now. If we invite, for example, representatives of the American embassy in Warsaw, politicians, public figures, it could work out positively. That's what I'm thinking about. Maybe, indeed, I need to change my view on this and finally watch the movie.

— Did they know about this film in the penal colony?

— Personally, Ihar told me about it, but generally, I think most people there didn't know about it.

I want to emphasize that the penal colony administration constantly stressed that everyone, especially the most famous of us, and me in particular, had been forgotten, including my colleagues, journalists. Like, "what are you talking about, no one will meet you there as a heroine, you are useless to anyone, we need to come to terms with this and accept it."

And for the first year, you don't believe it, and for the second, you don't believe it, in the third, you start to doubt, and then you think: "Damn, I've been sitting for four years, how much more?!" And by the end of the fifth year, you think, maybe everyone really has forgotten about us there.

Yes, by the end of 2025, I probably started to believe that only my family remembered me, and everyone else had their own lives. I didn't condemn anyone, that's normal. People also faced war, faced double emigration, when they first left for Kyiv, and then were forced to flee again. I don't know how I would behave, so I didn't condemn, I just thought: "Well, yes, probably."

But when the American releases began, it became really difficult for me. I understood that I clearly should be on such lists, but I was being crossed out.

"They wouldn't know about many people if not for the work of Belarusian democratic forces and institutions in exile"

— Your expectations about being forgotten weren't met?

— Yes, I wasn't forgotten. Despite everything that was happening in the world. They remembered and supported all this time. I found some of my poems set to music by artificial intelligence, I found a lot of videos, I saw a mural with my image in Warsaw. No, no one forgot. Just as now we, of course, don't forget those who remain.

Ihar, Andrei Aliaksandrau, Andrzej Poczobut, whom we are generally waiting for from several countries, and many other worthy true people. I think the whole world is waiting for their release.

Павялічыць

Katsiaryna Andreeva. March 25, 2026. Photo: lookby.media

— Does global publicity help, is the spread of information, expressions of solidarity beneficial?

— Frankly, when you are held hostage there, this publicity can affect you negatively in the short term. It can be either a reason for punishment or even for isolation. We know that incommunicado situations happened to public figures. Fortunately, I avoided that. It's a miracle of sorts.

Yes, sometimes it hurt, I'm telling the truth. But in the long run, it's worth asking yourself: how could the American side get accurate lists, cases, health status, and terms of people they include and present in lists during negotiations?

And here one cannot underestimate the role of Belarusian democratic forces, even if it's a consulting function; it is so important that it practically allows Americans to form this list. It's impossible to deny, right?

They wouldn't know about many people if not for the publicity, if not for the interest of the international community in the problems of political prisoners in Belarus, if not for the work of Belarusian democratic forces and institutions in exile. And if not for all those people who have been aching for all these years and still ache about the issue of political prisoners.

In the long term, I believe that such publicity, the publicizing of this problem, and the continued attention of both American and European politicians, as they say, decision-making centers, is extremely important.

"I am returning to journalism"

— You mentioned punishments in the penal colony, was it often?

— Less than I expected.

They almost never put me in the punishment cell. They told me: "We know how to hurt you more." And they deprived me of visits with relatives. Sometimes a year passed between meetings. They understood well where to strike.

— After all you've experienced, do you see yourself in the profession?

— Yes. I am returning to journalism. Not at full strength — for now, doctors, tests, recovery. But I am returning.

I want to gradually get back into work and simply test myself. Because after such a break, it's natural to think: have I lost some skills? But I really want to work again.

Incidentally, the first job offer came to me during the bus ride from the Belarusian border to Vilnius. Guess from whom? From Nasta Loika, we were traveling together, and she said she was ready to give her first interview after release specifically to me. So soon, look out for my return to journalism on "Belsat."

Павялічыць

"As planned, I'm returning to the profession, starting with the interview genre," Katsiaryna Andreeva wrote on her Facebook page. April 2026

"Belarus is different. Minsk is already different"

— What impressed you most after your release?

— The world has changed very much. I saw what AI is, for example. I was impressed.

At the same time, I now understand what people meant when they came to the penal colony and said: "Belarus is different. Minsk is already different."

I am a person of that five-year period of relative thaw — 2014-2019, I came into journalism during that thaw. And if I somehow remained internally, as you asked about the livestream, it's more there, not in 2020.

When I say I miss Belarus, I primarily miss that five-year period. Of course, I remember all the violations, detentions, but life was breathing, we could work, travel, film, do field reports. Now that's gone.

"That Belarus is gone. And that journalism is gone"

— When my colleagues and I discussed this, they said: "How can one return to the profession if you are a reporter who spent most of their life in the field, as they say, but where to return?"

And how to be an editor if you simply don't have on-the-ground correspondents? You know from social media that an event happened somewhere, but you can't verify it, you don't have the tools. This was my favorite part of the job, going on a business trip and making stories from there, from the scene. No artificial intelligence will do that.

And this is what is severely lacking, as I see it now, in modern Belarusian journalism, because it is all in exile. And what's left in Belarus, well, it's difficult to call that free journalism, and sometimes not even journalism at all.

We created our own content, which very rarely relied solely on social media information. But now this is complicated not just technically by the absence of a correspondent, but also complicated by great danger for people who might not even cooperate, but simply once transmit some information, or write an anonymous comment.

Павялічыць

Katsiaryna Andreeva is met by "Belsat". Photo: "Belsat"

Sitting in the penal colony, the girls and I observed how people were brought in groups, in waves. For example, a wave of those who were imprisoned for parcels to political prisoners, or a wave of commentators in 2022-2023, or a wave after the so-called referendum. Or for interviews and comments to "extremists," as in due course Darya Losik, and then my husband.

Everything has become dangerous, everything has become complicated both technically and ethically. How to do journalism in such conditions? My livestreams, perhaps, will only be in demand from some, I don't know, international events. But this is not the Belarusian agenda, at best regional or even international. And that's twice a year, no more. What should a journalist do daily? Many questions, of course, that I currently have no definite answers to.

"The real day of freedom will be when Ihar is released"

— During your meeting in Vilnius, you said that your real day of freedom would only be when Ihar is released.

— Yes, that's true. And I'll say it now. If they release me but keep Ihar hostage, then this is absolutely the practice of the Belarusian authorities that has been exercised on us all this time.

They know how to hurt. They have a tool, such an opportunity, they do it. The forced separation from Ihar fits perfectly into the tactics they used to pressure me for five years.

It's not even beneficial for the Belarusian authorities themselves, they perfectly understand that I will start talking about Ihar, and I also know how to talk. I will talk so that the topic resonates, so that his name resonates. And I will not let American or European politicians, or Belarusians, forget about Ihar.

We will wait for all our colleagues and all political prisoners.

I strongly hope that the Americans will fight to ensure that the mechanism of repression is completely stopped in our country, so that ten people are not released only for ten new hostages to be taken on the same day. So that people can remain in Belarus living normal lives, not under repressive conditions. Then it might be possible to think about some next steps, even about returning. In principle, I am an optimist, but as for rapid changes, probably not. And for now, I am returning to life, to my profession, to myself.

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