Currently, Belarusian students of the European Humanities University (EHU), located in Vilnius, are being subjected to searches. A criminal case has been initiated, and human rights defenders advise those associated with the university against returning to Belarus. The Viasna Human Rights Center is aware of over 60 searches, targeting not only students but also university graduates and former faculty members. The specific article of the Belarusian Criminal Code under which the case was initiated remains unknown, but it is likely Article 361-1 (creation of or participation in an extremist formation) or 361-4 (assistance to extremist activities). This is because, on April 14, the Supreme Court of Belarus declared EHU an "extremist organization." It once seemed that nothing could happen to this university. It opened in Minsk before anyone knew the name Lukashenko. Then came the loss of its license, exile, and operation in emigration. Now it's extremism, criminal cases, over a hundred students who immediately withdrew, and uncertain prospects. "Novaya-Yevropa" recounts the history of EHU, which serves as an example of what could happen to any university in exile. A picket at the EHU building on July 28, 2004. Photo: ehuniversity.lt. "It was upsetting to get a 'four' for a prayer." EHU is one of the first private universities in Belarus. It opened for applicants in 1992 with eight faculties, including theology, which was unusual and novel for a post-Soviet republic. The Belarusian Orthodox Church provided a form of "patronage," adding confidence that the university would be fine. At that time, no one could have imagined the loss of a license, let alone Belarus becoming first a presidential republic and then a dictatorship. However, the Orthodox Church was always a significant player, and if it took a new educational institution under its wing, it was a guarantee of success. Rector Anatoly Mikhailov. Photo: Wikimedia. The concept of the new university was devised by two individuals: Doctor of Philosophy Anatoly Mikhailov, who became rector, and Metropolitan of Minsk and Slutsk, Patriarchal Exarch of All Belarus, Philaret. They decided to create a university with in-depth study of humanities, social sciences, and foreign languages. Co-founders included the Ministry of Culture and Ministry of Education of Belarus, the Minsk City Executive Committee, and the National Academy of Sciences. "I enrolled at EHU's Faculty of Arts in 1998, during its 'golden' years," recalls Elvira Koroleva, an art historian and art curator. "We all wanted something innovative back then. The word 'European' was like a magnet. State universities seemed like bastions of Soviet academicism, but here was a European, humanitarian one. Languages were taught intensively, and guest lecturers from Europe came. For example, a curator who worked with Chagall's granddaughter visited and brought her to us when she was in Minsk. Such practical sessions offered more than academic lectures could. The university met modern demands. I still find it easy to work in Europe thanks to my EHU education. However, theology in faculties unrelated to religious studies was strange. I still remember being upset about a priest who gave me a 'four' for a prayer. I thought I read it well." "At that time, EHU students were confident that even if they didn't receive the classical education of state universities, they would become sought-after modern specialists who would understand the world's pulse and direction. EHU education was considered 'exportable,' meaning graduates could easily find work abroad. Two buildings in the city center and one of the church's diocesan buildings given to the Faculty of Theology – not every university boasted such space. However, it expanded not only in square meters. EHU academic building in Minsk. Photo: ehuniversity.lt. Thanks to the French Embassy in Belarus, the Franco-Belarusian Faculty was opened at EHU in 1993. With the US Embassy, the Center for American Studies was established in 1995. The German Embassy's support led to the creation of the Institute of German Studies in 1997. The MacArthur Foundation provided a grant for the Center for Gender Studies, and the Open Society Institute funded building reconstruction. Prosperity radiated from the university's walls. The church offered patronage. No warning signs appeared from anywhere. "We were convinced that nothing could happen to EHU," recalls Elvira Koroleva. "Also because many children and mistresses of officials studied here. This was seen as a good sign: an official wouldn't send his lady love or daughter to a sinking ship. We knew we weren't very popular in academic circles, but we never thought the university could be closed." A Small Candle Factory Nevertheless, on July 27, 2004, the Ministry of Education of Belarus revoked EHU's license to provide educational services. The Ministry's decision stated that EHU was not accredited following a planned inspection because it "did not meet the requirements for universities." The university was accused of preparing students based on "experimental curricula that did not comply with higher education standards." Lukashenko soon explained the ban on EHU. During a trip to Brest in September of the same year, he addressed students, saying: "When it [EHU] was opened, it was an interesting and attractive project for youth and the state: many foreign lecturers came, student trips abroad, European diplomas, and so on. That was the external facade. But the main hidden purpose was to train, here in Belarus, at the European Humanities University, a new Belarusian elite that would eventually lead Belarus to the West. It turned out that Westernizers in the center of Minsk were preparing future leaders, an elite." "And what about the other Belarusian universities – Brest, Vitebsk, Gomel, Mogilev, not to mention the leading ones in Minsk? Whom are they preparing – servants, slaves for this very elite?" The day after the license was revoked, students picketed the university building, holding signs like "Bring Back EHU," "Our Home is EHU," "We Choose the Best – EHU." On August 2, students held an action on October Square in Minsk, sitting on the ground and reading books, asserting, "We will continue to study, even if it's on the street." Picket at the EHU building on July 28, 2004. Photo: ehuniversity.lt. However, the university did not remain on the street – Lithuania welcomed it. Lecturers adopted a migratory lifestyle: staying in Minsk, they commuted to Vilnius, delivered their lectures, and returned. The Faculty of Theology, supported by the Orthodox Church, transferred in its entirety to Belarusian State University. "EHU sold Europe to Belarus and Belarus to Europe," says Maxim Zhbankov, a well-known Belarusian culturologist and former EHU lecturer. "And Orthodoxy cannot be sold in Europe, so it's not surprising that the theologians remained in Belarus. Nothing else changed. The point is that not just a university moved to Lithuania – a certain administrative system moved, which did not feel the need for modification. It comfortably ensured its existence in an authoritarian administrative regime. Thus, the project in exile had no incentives to develop. On the contrary, it was important to preserve itself as a small candle factory, a small private educational institution, to successfully sell its Belarusian otherness. And it was indeed sold successfully because the political aspect was activated: 'we are helping victims of the regime.' Alexander Lukashenko, Geneva, Switzerland, December 11, 2003. Since there were few victims of the regime in 2004, the world actively engaged in helping EHU. Donors included the European Commission, the Nordic Council of Ministers, and the governments of Lithuania, Poland, Estonia, the USA, and other countries. In 2017, the university was given the Augustine Monastery building in Vilnius's Old Town. "Talk about the university's lack of development, declining educational quality, and the administration carrying the main legacy from Belarus in the form of a totalitarian leadership style were suppressed and not brought into the public sphere. If Lukashenko disparaged EHU from the rostrum – don't be like Lukashenko, don't criticize." Swept Under the Carpet Nevertheless, even through the aura of inviolability, details of internal functioning emerged, resembling that of the Lukashenko system. In 2014, a group of lecturers who formed the "For a New EHU" faction and fought for the reform of the administrative-command system were fired from EHU. The contract with the Chairman of the University Senate, Pavel Tereshkovich, was terminated early. Maxim Zhbankov was among those fired. "At that time, we tried to achieve basic protection of lecturers' rights," he recalls. "A simple example: our women had children during their work at EHU but received neither maternity leave nor the benefits they were entitled to. Incidentally, after we were kicked out, the situation improved for those who remained – those who didn't support our protest. We served as expendable material. It was a minority protest for the benefit of the majority. One could say it was a sketch, a rough draft of what happened in 2020 to all of Belarus, when all democratic institutions, like our university senate, were authoritatively destroyed. In that situation, the majority of the senate opted for direct dialogue with the administration and the fulfillment of our basic demands. But there was a part of scared and loyal conformists – mainly professors who had something to lose, like mortgages. And when we went into conflict, this conformist part did not support us." After the dismissal of the rebellious lecturers, the EHU Senate transformed from a governing body into an advisory one. Lithuania's Controller of Academic Ethics and Procedures pointed out the unlawfulness of the decisions to EHU management, but the practice of dismissing dissenters continued. On October 1, 2019, students began the academic year with a protest: in the morning, they gathered at the university building with signs "Bring Back EHU!" – the same ones they held in Minsk in 2004. Back then, the demand was addressed to the Lukashenko administration, and now it's directed at the university's own administration. The student representation put forward demands: reinstate dismissed lecturers, restore the senate's powers, make personnel policy transparent, and abolish the tightening of financial rules (during the summer break, the university increased tuition fees by 400 euros per semester). EHU building in Vilnius, Lithuania, 2008. Photo: Telman Masliukou / Wikimedia. After the protest, students continued to speak about administrative pressure on their representation. Then came 2020, and the fight for rights extended beyond the university walls – all of Belarus was protesting then. Because EHU was geographically inaccessible to Belarusian security forces, they couldn't close it again and arrest everyone. Although many students, returning home for the summer, ended up in Okrestina for participating in marches. In 2023, EHU was rocked by a scandal: student Tatyana Borisova accused lecturer Sergey Seletsky of harassment. In response, Sergey Seletsky claimed the student was mentally ill and attempted suicide. Posts from other women accusing Seletsky began appearing online. EHU convened an independent commission to investigate the incident, which recommended dismissing the lecturer. "Seletsky was dismissed, but Tatyana Borisova was also expelled: 'no person, no problem.' As a result, both Seletsky and Borisova were reinstated through court. Seletsky was dismissed in December 2023, and in October 2024, a Vilnius court ruled to reinstate the lecturer and award him 40,000 euros in compensation for nine months of unemployment. In October 2025, a court declared Tatyana Borisova's expulsion unlawful and ordered EHU to reinstate her. However, she was denied compensation, as she had worked at a factory and a museum during those two years, so she didn't experience "downtime" like Seletsky. Students Alone with Extremism On April 14, 2026, when it seemed that everyone in Belarus had been imprisoned, and some had even served their sentences and been released, leaving the security forces with seemingly nothing to do, the Supreme Court, at the request of the Prosecutor General's Office, declared EHU an extremist organization. According to the prosecution, EHU collaborates with representatives of various terrorist and extremist organizations, aiming to "commit encroachments on the independence, territorial integrity, sovereignty, foundations of the constitutional order, and public safety of the Republic of Belarus." The prosecution claims that "criminal actions of a number of its teachers and graduates are confirmed by materials from criminal cases concerning incitement of social hatred and discord, conspiracy to seize state power, calls for restrictive measures, and the commission of other grave and particularly grave crimes." Searches and criminal cases became a natural consequence of the Belarusian Supreme Court's decision. After being declared an extremist organization, there are no other scenarios in Belarus. EHU students. Photo: ehuniversity.lt. "In fact, it all started not in April, but earlier," says EHU student Leonid (name changed). "Even before the start of the academic year, the Belarusian court declared EHU's website and social media pages extremist materials. The university responded somewhat: students were asked to clear their browser history, unsubscribe from EHU's social media pages, and log out of all groups and chats when crossing the Lithuanian-Belarusian border. But after EHU was declared an extremist organization, there was no such reaction. Students themselves devise instructions in their private chats and advise each other on how to avoid criminal prosecution at home. They discuss how to hide bank transfers and ask parents to destroy any university documents stored at home in Belarus. There was some statement from the rector condemning the illegal act of the Belarusian court. But in student chats, we exchange information, and most people write that the university is not taking any measures to protect students. Many sent letters to the rectorate, but personal replies to students mostly express 'concern.' And most simply don't know what to do, as there is no clear instruction. By the way, according to chat messages, searches were also conducted on graduates from 2019 and even those who were expelled. We meet with human rights defenders, but we don't have high hopes for the university leadership. Incidentally, if Belarusians previously constituted 95% of students, now, according to the rector, they are 74%. The rest are Russians and a few Kazakhs. Meanwhile, Russia and Belarus are in full bloom of punitive cooperation. And how the Belarusian court's decision might affect the fate of students from Russia or Kazakhstan remains an open question. With Belarusians, there are no questions; it's clear with them: extremist charges, up to six years in prison. "Radical Measures for Support" EHU Rector Vilius Šadauskas. Photo: V. Raupalis / LRT. On May 28, the current EHU Rector Vilius Šadauskas and other university leaders met with representatives of Belarusian civil society at the Lithuanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The rector's main point was the grim situation following the university's designation as an extremist organization. Several former Belarusian political prisoners expelled from Belarus were also present at this meeting, including social democrat Sergey Sparish, who served five years for "mass riots." "When I heard that EHU was very protective of its students' anonymity, it struck me," says Sparish. "What anonymity in our time? Especially considering the mass arrests related to various chats and correspondence in messengers. I asked what the leadership intended to do, but I received no clear answer. Because there simply isn't one. If the university has become a target of repression, then these repressions will continue." University representatives stated that after EHU was declared an extremist organization, over 100 students took their documents. However, in Belarus, the law has retroactive effect. And if searches are conducted on those who graduated before 2020, voluntary withdrawal will change nothing. Statements about student anonymity sound at least irresponsible. Opening of EHU's new building, May 3, 2018. Photo: ehuniversity.lt. If over 20 years ago EHU's fate was unique – the 'noughties' are now considered vegetarian times, and the university's expulsion was truly out of the ordinary – today this trajectory has become typical. In Belarus, several more private universities and almost all private schools have been closed since 2020. In Russia, the entire International Baccalaureate educational system was declared undesirable, and Liberal Arts university programs were liquidated. Arrests of lecturers and students have become commonplace in both countries. Universities in exile are now a trend, not a unique phenomenon. And transnational repression is also a trend. "When a university exists on Lithuanian territory, under its jurisdiction, the standards and principles defining Lithuania's higher education system naturally apply to it," says Maxim Zhbankov. "And here arises the task of effective tactical maneuvering, which EHU has successfully handled. On the one hand, we are not Lithuanians, so the attitude towards us should be more lenient (we are in exile, what can you expect?). On the other hand, when it came to a clear political or civil stance regarding the situation in Belarus, I can say for sure that EHU did not work for its country, while proclaiming that it was training personnel for a future Belarus. It could not protect either its employees or its students. And when I hear the current leadership's statements – 'we are taking radical measures for protection and support...' – I perceive it as white noise. It's a quasi-Soviet imitation of activity that is perceived as informational interference. And against the backdrop of this informational interference, students in their chats are figuring out how to escape prison. P.S. "Novaya-Yevropa" sent its questions to EHU but received no response.