As the first cases of COVID-19 emerged in early 2020, the Belarusian media space underwent a rapid and dramatic transformation. From February onward, the coronavirus pandemic dominated the news cycle, eclipsing virtually all other topics. Day after day, headlines were filled with infection rates, government responses, border closures, cancelled events, economic forecasts, and conflicting expert opinions. But as public attention narrowed, one particular set of voices quietly vanished: those of vulnerable groups who had long struggled for basic visibility and fair representation in the media.
A comprehensive media monitoring effort conducted by Journalists for Tolerance between January and July 2020 offers rare insight into how these populations — including LGBTQ+ people, migrants, people with disabilities, people living with HIV, and those with mental health conditions — were pushed even further to the margins during the first wave of the pandemic. The study analysed 297 media pieces across 13 major Belarusian online platforms representing a range of ideological viewpoints and audience sizes. The team examined not only the presence or absence of vulnerable groups in media discourse, but also the language and tone with which they were portrayed — particularly in connection to the emerging pandemic narrative.
The most striking pattern that emerged was a strong inverse relationship between pandemic coverage and the visibility of vulnerable groups. As COVID-19 content surged, mentions of marginalised communities plummeted. This was especially evident in the case of LGBTQ+ topics, which virtually disappeared from media radar by the spring of 2020. Yet invisibility did not always equal neutrality. The few mentions that remained were often cursory, tokenistic, or — more worryingly — couched in harmful stereotypes or outright hostility.
In numerous articles, the pandemic was described using analogies that invoked fear and stigmatisation, drawing problematic comparisons between COVID-19 and HIV. The virus was at times framed as “a new infection spreading like HIV” or linked to unregulated migration, described as “brought in by migrants.” These rhetorical constructions did not aim to inform readers about the lives of people living with HIV or the experiences of migrants. Rather, they mobilised existing prejudices to position these groups as vectors of disease or social instability. In doing so, they further alienated communities already facing social exclusion — not through explicit attacks, but through subtle yet powerful insinuations.
The study also identified a resurgence of ethnically charged language. COVID-19 coverage was analysed for associations with national or ethnic origin, and in 9 percent of such cases, the media used terms that clearly fell under the category of hate speech. The most frequent examples included phrases like “Chinese virus” or “China virus” — expressions widely criticised by international human rights organisations for fuelling xenophobia during the pandemic. In this way, ethnicity became not just a backdrop but a proxy for blame, with entire populations casually implicated in global suffering.
While explicit hate speech remained relatively rare overall — found in just 1.1 percent of the publications mentioning markers of vulnerability — the monitoring revealed persistent patterns of inappropriate terminology. In 9 percent of all articles referring to vulnerable groups, the language used was outdated, offensive, or stigmatizing. This was most common in content about LGBTQ+ people and individuals with mental health conditions. Terms like “homosexualism,” “invalid,” or “mentally ill” appeared without context or critical framing, reinforcing harmful stereotypes and framing these communities in reductive and often dehumanising ways.
What’s perhaps most significant, however, is not what was said, but what was left unsaid. Vulnerable groups became nearly invisible during the early months of the pandemic — at a time when they arguably faced some of the greatest risks and needed the most support. When marginalised people are absent from the media, they are also excluded from public conversations, denied the opportunity to represent themselves, and stripped of a platform to demand dignity, resources, and legal protection. Silence, in this context, is not neutral; it is a form of erasure.
The monitoring makes clear that the pandemic created not only a public health emergency but also a communication crisis. Under the pressure of a global event, even experienced editorial teams may resort to pre-existing rhetorical shortcuts — fear, scapegoating, and the Other. That is precisely why ethical journalism and inclusive language matter most in times of collective stress. The words media choose — or fail to choose — have consequences that ripple far beyond the page.
The findings of this study offer not only a snapshot of a difficult moment in time, but also a reminder of how quickly progress toward inclusion can be reversed. As Belarusian media continue to evolve in a complex and often repressive political environment, the responsibility to uphold human dignity in public discourse remains as urgent as ever.
The full monitoring report and publication database are available upon request.
