Creator of 'Kufar': Now is not the time to ask what Tsikhanouskaya can do for you. The question is what you can do

Mikhail Sender in the 'Kufar' office in Minsk, 2017. Photo: personal archive

Mikhail Sender calls his fate 'unusually cosmopolitan'. He was born in the BSSR, lived with his parents in Nigeria for several years in the late 1980s, then returned to an already independent Belarus. In the late 1990s, as a teenager, he moved to Sweden.

“It was a very interesting offer – to head a marketplace in Belarus. Because I love Belarus, it is my homeland, and I like it there, despite all its flaws. At that time, the situation was not what it is now – not North Korea. Still, one could live and exist there if you were alone, without children, and didn't have to bother with any kindergartens, schools, state polyclinics, and so on. It was quite comfortable to live there then,” Mikhail recalls.

His return to his homeland was not without bureaucratic mishaps. Having lived in Belarus for almost five years and managing a large company, Mikhail was formally homeless.

“I had a PP series passport for Belarusians living abroad. By law, if you are in the country for more than six months, you need to change it to a regular one. But when I tried to do that, they told me I needed a certificate from the military commissariat. I went to the military commissariat, and they replied: ‘We will not issue you a certificate without a normal passport, your PP is not suitable for us.’ Checkmate. I couldn't resolve this paradox. As a result, I couldn't register anywhere. I lived in Belarus, worked as a company director for almost five years, formally without any registration,” Sender laughs.

“Two men hugging were seen in the advertisement”

In 2013, when Mikhail Sender took over 'Kufar', the online classifieds market in Belarus was highly fragmented. Four major players operated on it, but there was no clear leader.

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Mikhail Sender, ex-head of 'Kufar'. Stockholm, Sweden, 2025. Photo: personal archive

“We had a clear ambition – to capture this market. At that moment, the situation played into our hands. There were slando.by, ‘Z Ruk u Ruki’ (From Hand to Hand), ‘Barakholka Onliner’ (Onliner Flea Market) and second.by. So 'Kufar' entered the fray in a situation where there was a window of opportunity. I cannot say that we had any product advantages, but there was enthusiasm and know-how from other markets, because 'Kufar' was then part of the Schibsted concern. And there was good financial backing, which is important,” Mikhail explains.

Working in Belarus, according to Mikhail, always involved the need to navigate between the demands of officials. But there was never serious pressure on 'Kufar': the platform was purely commercial. However, it was not without curious situations. Once, in one of its advertising campaigns, the state saw propaganda of same-sex relationships.

“There was an advertising campaign with the slogan ‘Be Happy’. In one of the creatives, a man was lying on the shiny hood of a car, hugging it and looking very happy. And, in my opinion, in the Vitebsk region, officials found signs of homosexual propaganda in this advertisement. It had to be removed. And why? Some Sherlock Holmes noticed that the man lying on the shiny hood created a reflection of himself. And it looked like two men hugging, lying on top of each other. We liked it so much that we even painted a mural with this plot in our office,” Sender recounts.

Despite the company being commercial and trying to stay out of politics, the temptation to engage with it was still there.

“We had a survey on our website to quickly get feedback from the public on various issues. We collected five to six thousand responses a week. Sometimes I really wanted to just ask a question like ‘Who would you vote for in the next elections?’. But my employees always slapped my hands, saying: ‘Don’t.’ So we didn’t get into any trouble,” Mikhail recalls.

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Mikhail Sender during his time at 'Kufar'. Zahorshchyna, Belarus, 2017. Photo: personal archive

At 'Kufar', Mikhail tried to implement Scandinavian corporate culture: with a flat hierarchy, no dress code, and democratic communication. But it didn't always take root easily. According to him, the hardest part was fighting hierarchical thinking.

“I never liked it when people addressed me as if I were some demigod. I don't like being feared. I always tried to talk to each new employee personally so they would know my name and address me informally (using 'ты' instead of 'вы'). Many found it very difficult and unusual: how can one address the director informally? I believe that an organization where communication flows freely, without barriers and fear, where people are not afraid to make mistakes, will develop much faster,” he says.

In 2017, Mikhail resigned as director of 'Kufar' and returned to Sweden, as he himself had said earlier, to marry his partner who lived in Stockholm. He admits that he continues to follow the project and is glad that 'Kufar' has endured.

Interpreter for Bialiatski

Recently, Sweden, where Mikhail now lives, was visited by Belarusian human rights activist and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Ales Bialiatski. During his meeting with deputies in the Riksdag (parliament), the former director of 'Kufar' served as interpreter.

“From time to time, people contact me when important guests come to Sweden. Once I translated for Stanislau Shushkevich and Uladzimir Arlou. Apparently, there are not many people who know both Swedish and Belarusian well. This happens somewhere once every few years. Three years ago, when Ales Bialiatski was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, he was in prison, and his wife came. I translated for her,” Mikhail recounts. “This is not public service; I get paid for it. Although the money is symbolic, I don’t do it for them.”

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Mikhail Sender as an interpreter at a meeting between Nobel laureate Ales Bialiatski and members of the Swedish parliament. Stockholm, April 14, 2026. Photo: personal archive

Mikhail's impressions of interacting with Ales Bialiatski remained overwhelmingly positive.

“He always seemed to me a very intelligent and interesting person. I see that Ales is not broken; it's probably impossible to break him. He continues to fight for what he has always believed in. No matter how many times they imprison him, he returns and insists each time that we are playing for the long run and cannot give up. Ales Bialiatski tirelessly reminds us that for every political prisoner released, Lukashenka's regime tends to create a new one,” Sender shares.

Despite close contacts with representatives of Belarusian civil society and the opposition, Mikhail himself declined offers to work in the democratic forces.

“I was once offered to head something. It was another attempt to create some common platform for coordinating actions under the aegis of Tsikhanouskaya’s Office. There was such a conversation, but I refused. At that moment, I didn’t see much point in getting involved in this process because, frankly, I didn’t really believe in the idea of another attempt to unite those who initially had no good reasons to disunite,” he admits.

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Picket organized by Mikhail Sender demanding the introduction of the correct name for Belarus in the Swedish language. Stockholm, 2019. Photo: personal archive

“Some people developed motives to pull the blanket over themselves, and you won’t eradicate these motives with any conferences,” Mikhail continues. “I wouldn’t even advise Ms. Tsikhanouskaya to waste time communicating with people who, for personal ambitions, try to artificially create a split that doesn’t really exist. You can think whatever you want about Sviatlana, but she is objectively the only legitimate leader of Belarus, elected by the majority. And until free democratic elections are held in Belarus, there can be no other leader. At the same time, it must be understood that it is very difficult for her to carry this burden, not having real power in Belarus. I was at Tsikhanouskaya’s meeting with the Swedish diaspora during her recent visit to Stockholm, and I was ashamed to see how people pestered her with consular questions and complaints, as if they didn’t understand that Sviatlana has no authority at the legal and diplomatic level and that her authority is built on popular support. Therefore, now is not the time to ask what Tsikhanouskaya can do for you. As John Kennedy said, you should ask what you can do for her.”

Secret Life in the Anonymous UltraVożyk

Another little-known page in Mikhail Sender's biography is his participation in the anonymous music project UltraVożyk. In the mid-2000s, their satirical songs on political themes were very popular among fans of Belarusian-language music. In 2005, the rock ballad 'Atlantyda' was included in the list of the best songs of the season according to the music portal 'Tuzin Hitou'. It became known only recently that Sender was one of the participants.

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Mikhail Sender and Dmitry Palahin with the first single of the band UltraVożyk. Stockholm, Sweden, 2003. Photo: personal archive

“Initially, we saw an interesting gimmick in this (anonymity. — Ed. note). We were a little inspired by the band Gorillaz. And then, somehow, this narrative of absurd characters – Piotr Adamavich, Doggy Ibragim, Yauhen Shafa-Uruguay – began to form by itself. It was just a lot of fun for us to invent this delirium, and the songs went in that direction,” Mikhail recalls.

The project was created together with childhood friend Dmitry Palahin, with whom Mikhail had been making music since the age of 12 – even before mass internet became available in Belarus.

“We corresponded, wrote paper letters to each other, sent notes, lyrics. Once a year we would meet – I would come to Minsk or he to Stockholm. In a home studio with lousy, cheap equipment, we made some completely incomprehensible things that seemed brilliant to us. UltraVożyk appeared as a spontaneous idea. We were sitting on a balcony in Stockholm, and someone had an idea: ‘Let’s make something like this, just tonight. Why bother? We'll churn out Lukashenka's statements’,” Mikhail recounts.

According to him, UltraVożyk was always more of a mockery than a serious political statement. The band's first track was a compilation of Lukashenka's quotes set to a dance version of the national anthem. At the same time, the band's music notably stood out in quality against the backdrop of the alternative scene of that time.

“Here, everything is known by comparison. If you look at what was in the 'Tuzin Hitou' hit parade then, it was mostly punk or garage rock. This genre stylistically does not imply high production quality. And we, probably, tried to focus on mainstream technical quality, but without making vulgar pop,” Sender explains.

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Mikhail Sender and Dmitry Palahin in the studio of the bands Dreamgale and UltraVożyk. Stockholm, Sweden, 2010. Photo: personal archive

Despite the quality sound, the project remained an amusement for its creators.

“Unlike other niche alternative Belarusian projects, UltraVożyk was always an unconventional mix of satire and pure wild mockery. Sometimes there was a political subtext, and sometimes we just wanted to make fun of everyone. We didn't take it as seriously as our main band Dreamgale. UltraVożyk was always a secondary project for us. We didn't bother too much with it. It was purely for fun, a warm-up,” Sender says.

Nevertheless, it was the side and unserious UltraVożyk that became famous, while the main project Dreamgale, by Mikhail's admission, did not really take off, and its only album was a complete fiasco. In this, the musician sees the irony of perfectionism.

“With UltraVożyk, we really didn't obsess over quality. But with Dreamgale – we obsessed a lot. And sometimes, by obsessing, you just spoil everything, you only make it worse. Listening to those songs today, I realize that it should have been simpler. But with UltraVożyk, it turned out exactly right,” he concludes.

Disappointment in Humanity

While working at 'Kufar', Mikhail started a political blog called 'Antimyth'. According to him, he initially wanted to reach out to the part of Russian-speaking society most susceptible to the influence of Kremlin narratives. But over time, he became disillusioned with this.

“I realized that my audience consisted more and more of like-minded people. And the people I wanted to convince weren’t particularly convinced. When the Crimean events began, it became clear that there was an ideological and cultural rift. And ‘Antimyth’ doesn't penetrate this rift. It's very difficult. I just got tired of clashing with these fanatics who constantly harassed and insulted me,” Mikhail explains.

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Mikhail Sender signs autographs on his book Aliens About Humans. Shelby, Sweden, 2024. Photo: personal archive

Mikhail poured his disappointment in humanity into the satirical Twitter account Aliens About Humans, which at its peak gained over 100,000 followers and later turned into a book. Now he is preparing a new, more serious project – a blog about the future of society in the era of artificial intelligence.

“The world as we know it, it seems to me, is ephemeral. It's unknown how many years we have left until the entire socio-economic system we live in becomes incompatible with reality. We are rapidly moving towards a world where human labor is not in demand and, to a large extent, meaningless. Under such conditions, the market economy and capitalism, built on the exploitation of labor and consumption, will simply collapse. Humanity has never been so close to complete collapse.

But in this cataclysm, I see a glimmer of hope. If we stop clinging to familiar approaches, then humanity has a rare chance to build a world of boundless wealth and freedom for all – a world where work is not necessary for happiness. I want to urge people to start this dialogue, beginning by discussing the problems and challenges. I want people there who are interested, who have ideas, so that we might find some new system that won't turn humanity into a concentration camp,” Mikhail Sender shares his plans.

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