In a world marked by geopolitical disorder and growing democratic fatigue, Belarusian Nobel Prize winner Svetlana Alexievich offers a stark and unsettling diagnosis of the present. Speaking from her exile in Berlin, where she lives after fleeing political persecution linked to her role in Belarus’s opposition movement, the writer reflects on the erosion of democratic norms, the persistence of authoritarian thinking, and the psychological rupture caused by war in Ukraine. In an extensive interview published by El País, Alexievich describes a global moment that feels, to her, as if “the world has exploded,” echoing the existential shock she once associated with Chernobyl.
For Alexievich, the author of works such as Voices from Chernobyl and The Unwomanly Face of War, the current era is not simply one of political crisis but of civilizational disorientation. She draws a direct parallel between the nuclear disaster she documented and today’s geopolitical landscape, arguing that both represent moments when established reality collapses. The war in Ukraine, now in its fifth year, has only reinforced her belief that humanity is capable of simultaneously embodying victimhood and violence. “The human being is not unbreakable,” she suggests, emphasizing how quickly moral boundaries dissolve under pressure. In her view, the Soviet legacy has not disappeared but mutated, continuing to shape contemporary power structures, particularly in Russia, where she sees echoes of the “Homo Sovieticus” still alive in the Kremlin’s actions.
Much of Alexievich’s concern is directed at the weakening of democratic culture in the West. She expresses unease about the political discourse in the United States and what she describes as Europe’s growing confusion, surrounded by what she calls “aggressive or disoriented countries.” While she still expresses cautious hope in democratic institutions, particularly in the United States, she warns that democracy cannot survive on institutional strength alone. According to her, it requires the active engagement of intellectuals and journalists, whom she believes have abdicated too much responsibility to political elites. “We have left everything in the hands of politicians,” she notes in the interview with El País, “but that is not reliable.” For Alexievich, journalism remains essential not merely as information gathering but as a moral and interpretative force capable of giving meaning to events.
Her reflections also return to Belarus, where mass protests erupted in 2020 following disputed elections against long-time ruler Aleksandr Lukashenko. Alexievich, who was briefly involved in the opposition’s Coordinating Council, describes those protests as idealistic and fundamentally non-violent. She rejects the idea that their failure represents defeat, instead framing them as the beginning of a longer historical process. The demonstrators, she argues, were unprepared for violence and believed in the possibility of peaceful transformation even under authoritarian conditions. However, the imbalance of power, in her view, was decisive. The state’s capacity for repression overwhelmed civic resistance, and the country remains under tight control. Still, she insists that historical change is rarely immediate and often unfolds across generations.
The writer is equally critical of recent international discussions about re-engaging with Lukashenko’s regime. She warns that attempts to normalize relations with authoritarian leaders risk misunderstanding the nature of their power. In her analysis, such regimes operate through transactional logic rather than political principle, reducing governance to “buying and selling.” She expresses skepticism toward the idea that diplomatic engagement alone could weaken Belarus’s alignment with Russia or alter the behavior of entrenched authoritarian systems. Even as some Western policymakers grow weary of prolonged conflict in Ukraine, she cautions against decisions driven by fatigue rather than principle, arguing that exhaustion is one of the most dangerous political forces of all.
Alexievich also devotes significant attention to the transformation of journalism and public discourse in the digital age. Speaking to El País, she acknowledges the disruptive impact of social media and the growing influence of artificial intelligence, though she does not yet see them as existential threats in themselves. What concerns her more is the declining ability to distinguish truth from manipulation. In her view, journalism must go beyond the mere collection of facts and instead interpret, contextualize, and give emotional and intellectual depth to reality. Without this, she argues, information becomes fragmented and meaningless. She emphasizes intuition as a crucial journalistic tool, a cultivated sensitivity to inconsistencies in human testimony that allows reporters to detect falsehood beneath persuasive narratives.
At the heart of her current work, written by hand in her Berlin apartment, is an ongoing exploration of testimony from Belarusian, Ukrainian, and Russian voices. She remains fascinated by the moral complexity of individuals who can exist simultaneously as victims and perpetrators. Her concept of the “Homo Sovieticus,” developed in earlier work, continues to evolve as she examines how Soviet-era mentalities persist in contemporary conflicts. She describes the ongoing war in Ukraine not only as a geopolitical struggle but as a tragic continuation of unresolved historical identities. In this sense, she suggests, the past has not ended but continues to live through violence, memory, and political ideology.
Alexievich also reflects on questions of gender and power, noting that most authoritarian leaders are men and that global politics remains shaped by a culture of masculine dominance. Drawing on her earlier work, she argues that women’s perspectives on war and suffering reveal fundamentally different emotional and ethical dimensions of conflict. She expresses cautious hope that a more balanced world might eventually emerge, but she remains realistic about the limitations of historical time. “Life is very short,” she observes, suggesting that while change is possible, it is rarely experienced within a single lifetime. For now, she continues to write, document, and warn, convinced that storytelling remains one of the last defenses against historical amnesia and political manipulation.
