Book: Alina Nahornaja “404 Language Not Found”

The book “404 Language Not Found” is about how difficult it is to use the Belarusian language in modern Belarus.

Let me start with a bit of background, with the history of my relationship with the Belarusian language. To be honest, Russian was always the native language in my family, although older generations occasionally mixed in either Belarusian words or dialects (the so-called “trasianka”) or some words from Yiddish. However, the Belarusian language surrounded me from childhood, and I understood it almost as if it were my native tongue. In the 1980s, I once visited Kyiv for a programming competition and was struck by how extensively Ukrainians used the Ukrainian language in daily life. In the Byelorussian SSR, in Minsk, Belarusian was not used as actively. On the second day of this “trip,” I decided to speak only Belarusian in Kyiv. The locals gave me slightly curious looks but generally understood me perfectly.

In everyday life, I still use Russian more, though I remember, love, and occasionally read various books in Belarusian. If someone I know starts speaking to me in Belarusian, I usually try to respond in the same language. But why Russian in daily life? It’s not out of embarrassment or a sense of oppression. It just turned out this way. For me, it’s normal to know several languages, and I don’t try to judge one as better or worse. My love for Belarusian lives in my heart, and that’s enough for me.

Now let’s talk about the book. While Alina Nahornaja is credited as the author, she is more accurately the compiler. The 200-page book consists of very short stories from people who try to speak Belarusian in Belarus but encounter various challenges. (Among the contributors, I even found acquaintances I’ve known for years.)

The authors of these stories have varying attitudes toward those who don’t understand the language. Unfortunately, most of them are rather aggressive in this regard. Yes, it’s a massive problem that one of the country’s official languages, which should be a key part of national identity, is not widely spoken. But is the shop assistant who doesn’t understand at fault? If they aren’t being rude, aren’t trying to lecture you, but simply don’t understand? Sure, they could take the time to learn. But society and the state system are structured in such a way that they don’t need to. Worse, obstacles are artificially created under the guise of “since we have two official languages, we can use either,” or the entire bureaucratic system is tailored solely to Russian. (Compare this to Canada, where every civil servant is required to be fluent in both official languages.)

Now let’s compare this to the 1970s and 1980s. During my childhood, national radio and television were conducted in excellent Belarusian. The announcers set an example of proper literary and grammatically correct language. Although, as I mentioned, we always spoke Russian at home, I knew Belarusian and understood it well. This wasn’t just because I had Belarusian language lessons at school but because I heard it all the time. That’s no longer the case today. Even the number of hours dedicated to Belarusian in schools has been reduced, and in some cases, Belarusian literature is taught in Russian (which is an absolute absurdity to me!). Sometimes, even those who supposedly speak Belarusian do so with mistakes.

But it’s easier to take out frustration on someone who doesn’t understand you. Only a few of the stories in the book present a thoughtful approach and recognize that you can’t force someone to embrace something. If we want to preserve the language, it must be done without aggression.

At one time, the Belarusian Popular Front (BPF), one of the most well-known opposition parties, aggressively tried to impose the Belarusian language everywhere under the banner of national identity and independence. It was during this period that many people turned away from them and began to view them negatively because their approach was based on the principle of “if you’re not with us, you’re against us.” Additionally, they sought to introduce a different grammar system, Taraškievica, as opposed to the official version, which they labeled Soviet. This effort alienated even those who spoke and loved the Belarusian language. I am certain that this policy of forced “linguistic unification” in an independent Belarus during those years became yet another nail in the coffin of the Belarusian language. People generally have a neutral or positive attitude toward the language, but they dislike aggressively fanatic proponents. Nowadays, “BPF member” is often used as an insult, nearly synonymous with the term “fascist.” Unfortunately, as the book demonstrates, this same attitude is now frequently extended to those who simply use the Belarusian language in their daily lives.

About a third of the way through the book, the perspectives begin to repeat themselves, offering little new insight. It’s just the same ideas expressed by different people in slightly different words.

From the “author” of the book, there’s a recurring element: each short story (typically 1–2 pages, though some are as short as 1–2 paragraphs) highlights one word, after which the author adds a “profound” commentary. Unfortunately, these authorial notes were my least favorite part of the book. Their purpose is unclear—they don’t relate to the stories, and it’s hard to discern what the author was trying to convey (beyond “learn your native language, or you’re not a true Belarusian”). Often, they came across to me as fairly aggressive toward Belarusians who don’t use the Belarusian language. At the very least, this attitude strongly permeates these seemingly unnecessary comments, which are presented as the only acceptable truth. This approach is more alienating than inviting. As a result, one form of negativity clashes with another. In my opinion, the book would have been better received without these “insertions.”

That said, the book highlights an important issue: bilingualism in the country is interpreted only in favor of one language. This is deeply problematic, yet the book offers no potential solutions beyond quotes advocating for “Belarusian only.” Such rigidity will only breed greater resentment toward the language—we’ve already seen this happen with the BPF. And no alternative solutions are really proposed.

It’s commendable that the problem is being discussed, but I would have liked to see reflections on what to do, not just a statement of the issue. Because of this, my impression of the book is very mixed. However, I don’t regret the money or time spent. For a deeper exploration of the relationship between language, identity, and national ideas, I found the interviews in the book “The Belarusian National Idea“ much more interesting. (Though not without its flaws, that book stands out for its diversity of opinions.)

P.S. The book also has formatting issues (I remind you that I have read the very first edition in Belarusian). On several occasions, I noticed sentences abruptly cut off in the middle or even at a hyphen. A minor issue, but still unpleasant.

My rating: 3/5

The book can be downloaded completely free of charge from its official website: https://www.mova404.info/en/book