"Until a TikTok was filmed, no one reacted." How Belarusians solve communal problems through publicity

Illustrative photo

Andrei, 34 years old, Minsk:

"In our entrance, the roof had been leaking for two years. We wrote to the housing office, called, registered applications — they would come, look, and shrug their shoulders. At most, they patched it up for a month. One neighbor filmed a TikTok: he showed buckets on the stairs, wet walls, mold. The video went viral. A week later, a crew arrived and did a proper repair. Before that, it was as if we didn't exist for the housing and communal services."

Tamara Ivanovna, 62 years old:

"I'm not an internet person, but my granddaughter showed me how everything works now. My friend's yard lights weren't working; it was scary to walk there in the evening. She wrote appeals for a year. Zero. Then her neighbor filmed a TikTok — she just walked around in the evening with her phone. A few days later, the lights came on. So draw your own conclusions."

Ilya, 23 years old, Gomel:

"They couldn't repair the elevator in our dormitory. Five floors, elderly people live there, as do mothers with strollers. Officially — 'no funds.' We filmed a TikTok, no insults, just facts. Other accounts picked it up. And suddenly, funds were found. If not for the video, we would still be walking up and down the stairs."

Volha, 41 years old, Mogilev:

"I don't like publicity, but I see that nothing else works. Friends of mine were trying to get pipes replaced — they were emergency, old ones. Ten years of formal replies. When their son posted a video on TikTok, showing rusty water from the tap, everything was resolved within a month. Not because the problem was new, but because everyone saw it."

Siarhei, 55 years old:

"We are constantly taught: don't air your dirty laundry in public, write to the proper authorities. We wrote. No result. But when young people film TikToks — then immediately there are inspections, commissions, hustle and bustle. I was against it at first, but now I understand: publicity is the only language they truly understand."

Dzmitry, 38 years old, Barysaw:

"In Barysaw, everyone has long known: if a problem is serious and the housing and communal services don't react — either film a TikTok yourself or write to local TikTokers. Like Pashka the blogger or Kateryna, who constantly features red-green symbolism. The irony is that even through propaganda accounts, issues are resolved faster. Friends had been trying for years to get a road on their street. Then they contacted the blogger, he filmed a video, and the next day equipment arrived. Through official channels — silence."

Kaciaryna, 31 years old, Zhodzina:

"In Zhodzina, everyone already understands: publicity solves problems. If you don't want to show your face yourself, it's difficult, of course. Especially since bloggers are closely monitored in Zhodzina, and there are even cases of arrests. The authorities don't like the truth, they shut it down. My neighbors did this: there were heating problems, it was cold, children were freezing. They wrote applications, called — to no avail. They created an anonymous account and showed everything: literally within a couple of days, everything was repaired for them."

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