Belarus from the Middle Ages to the War in Ukraine

Belarus – A Silenced History, written by Finnish journalist and researcher Toni Stenström, is an accessible and ambitious attempt to trace the historical trajectory of Belarus, from its early medieval origins to the present. The book is presented as a corrective to centuries of marginalization and erasure, particularly within both imperial and Soviet frameworks that subsumed Belarusian identity under Russian or broader East Slavic narratives. In this sense, the work’s publication is welcome and timely, emerging amid renewed international interest in Belarusian sovereignty, culture, and history. However, despite its broad appeal and often engaging tone, the book ultimately occupies the realm of popular history rather than academic scholarship, and this distinction is critical to how it should be received.

The book’s structure follows a conventional chronological sweep, beginning with the early mentions of Polotsk in medieval chronicles and progressing through the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, the Tsarist and Soviet periods, and Belarus’s post-Soviet experience. It includes maps, timelines, and an overarching narrative designed to introduce general readers to key moments and figures in Belarusian history. The intention to popularize and make this history more accessible is commendable, particularly given how little Belarus features in general European history texts. Nevertheless, the clarity and authority of the narrative are undercut by several structural and factual shortcomings.

The book contains footnotes but notably lacks a bibliography. The absence of a comprehensive list of sources makes it difficult for the reader to evaluate the basis for many of the claims presented. Without consistent citations or reference to scholarly literature, it is often unclear whether the author is drawing from peer-reviewed research, journalistic accounts, or internet-based syntheses. The inclusion of maps sourced from Wikimedia Commons further underscores the informal character of the work. While this approach may be acceptable for a general readership, it ultimately limits the book’s credibility as a historical account. In a project that aims to redress historical silence, precision and transparency are essential. Instead, the book moves between storytelling, polemic, and historical summary, occasionally sacrificing coherence and analytical depth in favor of narrative momentum.

Numerous examples of factual inaccuracy and oversimplification can be found throughout the book. On page 17, for example, the author states that Polotsk was founded in 862. This is a common misinterpretation: 862 is the first recorded mention of Polotsk in the Primary Chronicle, not the date of its actual founding. This is partially corrected later, on page 27, where the date is framed as the earliest documentation, which reflects a more accurate understanding. Current archaeological research suggests that the founding of Polotsk likely occurred closer to 780. Similarly, the book claims that Minsk was “conquered” by the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, whereas historians generally agree that this was a process of vassalization and gradual integration in the early fourteenth century. These are not marginal points; they reflect how narrative shortcuts can mislead readers and inadvertently perpetuate outdated or nationalist historical myths.

Linguistic claims are also problematic. The book asserts that Ruthenian was the common linguistic ancestor of modern Belarusian, Ukrainian, and Russian. While Ruthenian did serve as a chancellery and cultural language in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, and certainly influenced the development of Belarusian and Ukrainian, its relationship to modern Russian is more complex and indirect. Such generalizations flatten the nuanced linguistic history of Eastern Europe and risk reinforcing the very simplifications the book seeks to overcome.

The book’s organizational logic could also be clearer. While the focus ostensibly remains on Belarus, the early chapters spend a great deal of time on Kyivan Rus’ and the shared cultural roots of East Slavic civilization, without clearly delineating how these histories relate specifically to Belarusian identity. This leads to a kind of historical drift, where the book occasionally feels like a broader Eastern Slavic history rather than a focused study of Belarus. Greater attention to historiography—how the Belarusian past has been framed and contested—would have strengthened the argument and anchored the narrative more effectively.

Stylistically, the book often swings between academic tone and journalistic commentary. Some chapters read like extended opinion pieces, while others attempt to synthesize complex historical periods into digestible prose. This hybrid style might appeal to some readers, especially those new to the topic, but it may also alienate others expecting either scholarly rigor or a more cohesive storytelling approach. The tone is sometimes polemical, sometimes anecdotal, and not always consistent in terms of register or rhetorical strategy.

That said, the book’s strengths become more visible in the sections dealing with more recent history, where the author seems more confident in the material and draws from a broader base of sources. The discussion of Belarus’s experience in the twentieth century, including its role in the Second World War and its uneasy post-Soviet transformation, is more robust and nuanced. These sections show insightful analysis, especially when less encumbered by the complexities of premodern history or linguistic development.

Perhaps the most compelling aspect of the book is its implicit challenge to historical silence. In a region where memory has often been repressed, rewritten, or forcibly aligned with imperial narratives, any attempt to reclaim and retell national history is valuable. While the book raises concerns, including factual inconsistencies and a lack of scholarly grounding, it should also be recognized as part of a broader effort to engage public interest in Belarusian history. Its accessibility may encourage readers unfamiliar with the subject to explore it further, which is a meaningful contribution.

Still, the larger question remains. It is encouraging to see growing interest in the history of Belarus, but when that history is presented with only partial accuracy, the results can be mixed. While the book succeeds in sparking curiosity, it also raises important questions about how history is told and who it is for. Visibility is valuable, but it must come with care and responsibility. In the end, readers are left to consider what is more harmful: not knowing the past at all, or a version of the past that is only partly true.