Wanted in Riga, welcomed in Minsk

On April 9th, Latvian pro-Russian politician Alexei Roslikovs held a press conference in Minsk, Belarus, where he targeted Latvian and European leaders, while praising the Belarusian and Russian regimes as the true friends of Latvia’s citizens. With a criminal trial and potential prison time back home, Roslikovs hinted at staying in Belarus and continuing his political work from exile, while collaborating with Lukashenko’s regime.

Since then, Roslikovs’ future as an exile propagandist in Belarus seems imminent. Although the motivations of Roslikovs-type figures are often quite trivial, an analysis of their communication reveals an interesting evolution in the way propaganda narratives respond to challenges in the Baltic states.

Just one of many

Of course, Roslikovs’ trajectory is far from unique. Since 2022, amid the securitisation of the EU’s eastern flank, growing scrutiny has been directed at politicians and public officials linked to pro-Russian financial interests or to ethnic and regionalist parties that traditionally mobilised around minority-rights issues, particularly within Russian-speaking communities in the Baltic states.

Such investigations often lead to criminal allegations of corruption, inciting hatred, or illegal financing — all very persuasive signals for Roslikovs-type characters to leave the jurisdictions of their home countries and the EU. Edikas Jagelavičius (Lithuania), ex-MEP Andrejs Mamikins (Latvia), and Polish judge Tomasz Szmydt all fled to Belarus or Russia under similar circumstances.

The media infrastructure to receive them is in place: Belarusian and Russian state media quickly organises press conferences, grants state housing, and integrates new arrivals into existing propaganda or fake “neighbourhood” forums that operate as legitimising centres. Propaganda typically frames these departures as a “mass exodus” from Baltic “Russophobia”, despite actual migration numbers suggesting otherwise.

Old narratives and new approaches

The foundational narrative of the inherent repressive “Nazi-like” nature of the independent Baltic states has remained untouched since the early 1990s. Mobilisation around issues of the Russian language, Russian-speaking schools, and political representation of Russian-speaking communities stays central to the platforms of these politicians, especially in Latvia, which receives the most hostile coverage from Russian media and officials.

Following the 2022 full-scale invasion, which was broadly condemned across Baltic societies, even the most openly pro-Russian politicians in the region were compelled to moderate their rhetoric. Instead of expressing direct support for Russia, they increasingly framed their positions around opposition to military assistance for foreign wars and redirected political debate toward economic hardships and social concerns.

Narratives of economic struggles, inflation and the “unfairness” of national and EU funds distribution are especially effective on Russian-speaking Baltic communities, which are typically more economically depressed and already ostracised on language/ethnic issues.

Previously more or less ignored by pro-Russian politicians in the Baltic states, Belarus has, since 2022, become a major talking point and an idealised example of how a country can maintain close ties with Russia. Lukashenko’s Belarus fits this narrative framework across all three key issues: Ukraine, language and ethnic relations, and economic policy.

Lukashenko’s regime managed to distance itself from its involvement in the war to the point that the idea of a “neutral” Belarus could be sold to Russian-speaking audiences in the Baltics, while an official state two-language policy and unlimited Russian financial and energy support are used as arguments in its favour. Of course, in reality, language policy heavily favours Russian and represses Belarusian, while cheap energy is paid for by handing over political and military sovereignty, but these aspects are never covered by Roslikovs and similar political actors.

What changes is the way in which these narratives are handled by the exiled propagandists. Looking at Roslikov’s case, we see an approach that differs from what we could expect from a desperate propagandist inside a neighbouring, but ultimately foreign country. For now, Roslikovs engages with mostly “non-political” actors — people who can’t be immediately identified as regime functionaries.

He may discuss cheap energy with the director of the Belarusian Nuclear Power Plant, or language policy with Belarusian “bloggers”, but he is unlikely to appear alongside high-ranking officials or at government political rallies. His comments rarely engage with themes such as the “imperial West”, “Nazi-gay Europe”, or NATO expansionism (rhetorical tropes commonly associated with Russian and Belarusian state propaganda), but instead focus on economic and cultural support from “Slavic neighbours.”

All this constitutes a new approach to how these “exiled” European politicians are presented to the public. The idea is to minimise the toxicity you typically expect from someone working with the Belarusian or Russian regimes in the media sphere, and instead to present them as “insiders” disillusioned and betrayed by the West. These “heroes” then share their “insider” knowledge of “rotten” Europe and present Belarus and Russia as alternatives, which benefit marginalised communities back home.

Bleak present and future threats

However, the propaganda utility of Baltic exiles tends to have a short life: they generate initial media impact but quickly become repetitive voices in an echo chamber, reaching audiences already converted while failing to penetrate the mainstream. Lack of physical access to their political base, funding, and electoral influence also leads to them transitioning into glorified bloggers, while the agenda/context gap between them and their base inevitably widens.

Their situation resembles limbo, as the Baltic states cannot extradite them from Belarus or Russia, while the regimes that support them don’t value their informational capital enough to provide anything more than a basic living and a glorified blogger job.

The most serious threats from these actors are long-term. If the situation on the Eastern flank worsens, or if a Ukraine settlement creates pressure to “normalise” with Moscow and Minsk, these exiled networks could rapidly gain relevance as ready-made interlocutors, making today’s marginal figures tomorrow’s useful intermediaries, not at all a favourable outcome for a free and a democratic Baltics.