Polish-Belarusian journalist and activist Andrey Poczobut was released on April 28, 2026, after more than five years in prison and a penal colony, and 1,860 days—as he counts them from the day of his arrest. For decades his name was associated with pressure on Poland’s minority in Belarus and on independent journalism there; now, at liberty, he talks in detail about solitary confinement, living next to a death-row wing, courtroom humiliation, and why he at first refused to leave Belarus in a night convoy—until he was promised he could legally return home.
Who Poczobut is and why his case is “political by definition”
Poczobut was born in Belarus, retained Belarusian citizenship, and lived for many years in Hrodna, where he was a prominent figure in the Union of Poles. At the same time he worked as a correspondent for Poland’s influential Gazeta Wyborcza—reporting on provincial Belarus, regional history, and minority issues that the authorities treated as a “political trail.” Before his latest arrest in 2021 he had already faced pressure from security forces after the 2010–2011 protests: fines, short detentions, and the threat of a suspended sentence over publications about the regime. Human rights defenders in the EU and Polish officials portray the present charges and eight-year sentence as payback for his words and his ties to the Polish community, rather than as an ordinary criminal case.
A “five for five” exchange: diplomacy where resolutions helped little for years
According to BelTA’s summary, release was the outcome of prolonged contacts between the Belarusian KGB and Polish intelligence; the process was described as especially difficult. The exchange took place at the border, formally as “five for five.” Polish officials also publicly linked the breakthrough to firm US engagement and cited the role of President Trump’s administration and the special representative on Belarus. The first footage of Poczobut abroad was published by the Polish-Belarusian “Svaboda” newsroom: a Gazeta Wyborcza correspondent asks him to speak to readers—he talks about people’s “resilience” and what they do.
Timeline: from arrest in Hrodna to Navapolatsk colony
March 2021 — a new arrest. January–February 2023 — trial and verdict: eight years in a strict-regime penal colony under articles of the Belarusian Criminal Code which, in independent media’s shorthand, amounted to harming “national security” and incitement to hatred (Articles 361 and 130).
The sentence was served in Navapolatsk correctional facility PK-1, which journalists and the UN had written about for years: harsh regime, frequent disciplinary isolation, limited family access. Weeks before his long-form interview Novy Chas quoted the deputy head of the colony as saying something like “They needed him alive, not dead.” Poczobut is ironic: nonetheless they barely cared for his health; to fight exhaustion he relied on physical exercise in the inhuman conditions of his cell—and his weight eventually fell almost to a critical level for him.
No plea for mercy and no “forever” departure
Novy Chas notes earlier patterns—release tied to a plea for clemency or emigration. Poczobut repeatedly rejected those terms, insisting on counting as a political figure on Belarusian soil without a humiliating deal with the administration.
Trial, verdict, and the “Battle for Pride” in the courtroom
A trial of a journalist on political charges is almost always staged for the cameras. In an interview with Nasha Niva (retold for Gazeta Wyborcza) Poczobut reconstructs being told to stand with his back to the gallery “for video protocol”; he refuses—looking at people so as not to lose even small moral ground. Years later he calls that kind of refusal part of preserved dignity—not where the sentence is written down, but where they try to turn you into voiceless courtroom furniture.
Death-row wing, punishment cells, and physical limits
The calendar was not the only torture: the cell itself mattered. Poczobut described being held in a block next to death-row cells: you hear voices and know people on the other side of the wall are not serving an abstract “regime sentence” but are in the last stretch of verdicts before execution—the psychological strain for anyone sane is enormous.
He spent roughly 167 days total in disciplinary isolation (DSI): bare boards instead of a bed, calorie-poor mash, cold summer and winter from an open vent window. He said he stayed in shape with exercise—including sets of up to 140 push-ups. Weight fell from 93 to 74 kg over investigation and imprisonment. Sources agree—including Novy Chas and Nasha Niva.
The night of departure: “I won’t go without guarantees”—and the right to be home
When the night convoy said they were taking him to Poland, Poczobut first stopped them: he wanted officials from both sides and a verbal assurance he could return to Belarus. It is reported that a representative from the presidential administration arrived and commitments were relayed via the Polish side. For a journalist who has always anchored himself in the west-Belarusian story of events, that is no bureaucratic trivia—it restores the meaning of a life stripped by the regime of the word “traitor.”
In a video comment for Svaboda he tells the audience to “stay steadfast in what you believe,” and speaks cautiously about his health on the outside—that doctors say he is doing “better than expected.”
Poczobut’s case is not a petty wrong the public could shrug off long ago. It is how the state machine turns against unwelcome speech, minority rights, and people who openly write about Polish history on Belarusian soil. When the regime briefly lets a hostage go, an editorial obligation is not only to celebrate but to record how the pressure worked and how refusal to break sounded—before the facts blunt the audience’s memory.
