Ihar Sluchak is a Belarusian lawyer and an active advocate for the Belarusian language. For many years, he has dedicated himself to preventing the language from disappearing and being undeservedly discriminated against in favor of Russian in the Republic of Belarus. Despite the seemingly hopeless nature of such a mission in the current circumstances, Ihar has managed to defend the rights of his native language. For this, he is strongly disliked by many Belarusian officials and propagandists, it’s worth noting.
Holding a Master of Laws, Ihar Sluchak devoted his dissertation precisely to the history of the Belarusian language. Later, he reworked it slightly and published it as this book: “10 стагоддзяў дзяржаўнасцi i дыскрымiнацыi беларускай мовы” (in English, “10 Centuries of Statehood and Discrimination Against the Belarusian Language”).
The uniqueness of the Belarusian language lies in the fact that it is formally the first state language of the Republic of Belarus. For a time after the collapse of the USSR, it was the only state language; later, Russian was added. However, the actual situation with the language is dire. It has been systematically suppressed for many centuries, and the Soviet era (along with most of the post-Soviet years) is not an exception but rather a direct example of this trend. The majority of the country’s population speaks a form of “trasianka”—a mixture of Belarusian and Russian, often with elements of Ukrainian and Polish, depending on the region’s proximity to a particular border. In Minsk, you are far more likely to hear Russian, while in other cities, even the Russian spoken often includes Belarusian words or carries the accent and nuances of Belarusian pronunciation.
Some scholars believe that the Belarusian language is on the verge of extinction, as the number of its speakers is critically low. Even in my family, Russian was the native language for all these years (though, to be fair, I used to consider some Yiddish words as part of Russian, but that’s another story). However, thanks to Belarusian TV and radio, my generation had a good grasp of the Belarusian language. (In school, we were also taught both Belarusian language and literature, but if we hadn’t heard it daily from other sources, it’s unlikely we would have considered it our second native language.)
I started with this to explain why the language question even arises in an independent Belarus. But let’s get back to the book.
As with any solid academic work, everything begins with an explanation of terminology. In this case, the author clarifies the different types of language policies that exist in various countries. This is followed by examples of how states with multiple official languages approach multilingualism. In this section, the author examines the nuances of legal practices concerning languages in four countries: Ireland, Switzerland, Canada, and Finland. Although there are more countries with multiple languages, even in Europe:
- In Belgium: Dutch (Flemish), French, and German
- In Cyprus, where I currently live: Greek and Turkish
- And others
This part of the book offers a fascinating exploration of the preservation of languages themselves and the ethnic self-identification of their speakers. It demonstrates that the coexistence of multiple languages is not only possible but, with proper state support, a language can remain vibrant and relevant. (The author doesn’t mention this example, but in the United Kingdom, they even managed to revive one of the Celtic languages—Cornish, which is now spoken by a significant number of people in Cornwall.)
At the same time, I reflected on the idea that, for any given individual, one language typically dominates, even if they’ve been fluent in several since childhood. With today’s increasingly interconnected world, I see this clearly in my own children, where it’s difficult to pinpoint which language is truly their “native” one, and among my friends. For example, one of my old friends has children who speak Danish fluently, Japanese with their mother, Russian with their father, and are also fully proficient in English—but Danish remains their primary language.
The main portion of Ihar Sluchak’s book focuses on the statehood of the Belarusian language over many centuries, from the 10th century to the present day.
It is well-known that modern Ukrainian and Belarusian are much closer to Old Slavonic than Russian, which becomes evident when comparing surviving ancient texts. Belarusians and Ukrainians can easily understand each other when speaking their own languages, whereas Russians encounter more difficulties in this regard. The Belarusian language was actively used in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, and for a long time, it served as the official medium of communication with the Grand Duchy of Moscow (including during the reign of Ivan the Terrible).
However, with the conquest of the lands of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania by the Russian Empire during the reign of Catherine II, the Belarusian language began to be actively suppressed. This was part of an effort to assimilate the newly acquired territories into Russia by gradually erasing their unique identity. Such practices were not exclusive to the Russian Empire; they are a common strategy among conquerors. (Even the Russian language today still contains traces that reveal the influence of the centuries-long Tatar-Mongol yoke.)
As I mentioned earlier, after a brief period of revival following the October Revolution, Belarusian lands were absorbed by the USSR. From that point on, the struggle for national rights—including the right to speak one’s native language—continued for decades with mixed success, a process that the author examines in detail in his work.
I would like to highlight the fact that even among Belarusians, there is disagreement about what the Belarusian language should be.
For instance, the official version of the language, the one I was taught in school, is sometimes referred to as the “Soviet” or “Narkomawka” version. Some people reject it, although most modern Belarusian books use this grammatical standard.
Others prefer the so-called Taraškievica, which features softer phonetics compared to the official standard (e.g., “meljodyja” instead of “melodyja” for “melody”). This version was actively promoted by the Belarusian Popular Front (BPF) during Belarus’s initial independence from the USSR. Unfortunately, in my personal opinion, their approach was so aggressive at the time that it alienated many Belarusians, making them reluctant to support either the party or the opposition in general for years.
There are also those who mix both variants. I often come across Belarusian articles or conversations where it’s clear that the speakers or writers can’t decide whether they prefer “meljodyja” or “melodyja”. The text or speech ends up containing elements of both approaches.
However, most Belarusians, regrettably, primarily speak trasianka, as I mentioned earlier. Trasianka typically incorporates—or predominantly uses—Russian words but applies Belarusian pronunciation rules to them. A classic example is the word “ашчушчэнiе” (“aščuščėnnie”), famously used by a well-known Belarusian politician. It takes the Russian word “ощущение” (“sensation”, “feeling”) and rewrites or pronounces it as if it were Belarusian. However, even this is incorrect, as the proper Belarusian adaptation would be “aščuščėnne” due to the language’s rules—Belarusian does not have the Russian ending “-nie”, always using “-nne” instead. Additionally, the letter “щ” is absent in Belarusian and is replaced by the double sound “шч” (“šč”). That said, the correct Belarusian word for “ощущение” isn’t “ашчушчэнне” (“aščuščėnne”) either—it’s “адчуванне” (“adčuvanne”). This is how trasianka is constructed: a hybrid language where Russian words are adapted, often incorrectly, into Belarusian phonetics. It’s a phenomenon you can hear everywhere in Belarus.
Why did I bring up this issue? Because, in my view, when discussing the preservation of a language, this aspect cannot be overlooked. Let people speak in different dialects—it’s a wonderful thing that adds beauty and uniqueness to the language. However, there must still be linguistic standards that media and print publications adhere to. Whether Narkomawka is “good” or “bad” is not the issue. But during the Soviet years, I heard pure and beautiful Belarusian on the radio and television, free of trasianka and mixed dialects (thanks to announcers like Zinaida Bondarenko, a legend of Belarusian TV). This made it clear to me that Belarusian is a mature language with its own norms.
Ihar Sluchak doesn’t directly address this issue in his book. However, he demonstrates with evidence how the Belarusian language has been systematically relegated to a linguistic ghetto under the pretext that since there are two state languages, everything can be in just one—Russian.
I won’t lie, reading the book was challenging for me because it’s primarily an academic work, written in a corresponding scholarly style. It’s not popular science. That’s why I consumed it in small portions. The book provides a wealth of fascinating facts, and although it is based on a dissertation, I expected more references to materials supporting the author’s statements, as is typical of academic works. Some things I already knew, while others surprised me slightly as I read, and for those, I would have liked to see sources or copies of the mentioned documents. These elements add weight to such studies.
Reading it isn’t easy, but for those interested, the material provides a deeper understanding of what is happening to the Belarusian language. And it should interest Belarusians first and foremost if they want to preserve their identity. I’m writing this text in Russian partly to reach a broader audience (though the book itself is in Belarusian).
I would also recommend reading two other books alongside it:
- “404 Language Not Found“ by Alina Nahornaja, Ihar Sluchak’s wife, which was published in the same series.
- “Bel-Chyrvona-Bely: Sciah. Natsyia. Identychnasts“ (Red-White-Red: Flag. Nation. Identity) — a book about the second pillar of any nation’s identity: its flag and coat of arms.
And to Ihar, respect for his fight on such a difficult front.
My rating: 3/5
