By Liza Chernobay
Following the full-scale invasion of Ukraine led by the Russian military in February 2022, the Russian language has become increasingly politicised worldwide, causing psychological and practical distress among many Russian speakers. With language being an integral part of national and cultural identity, as well as the primary tool for communication and connection with others, what are the implications of associating the Russian language with its mother country’s political regime?
The unravelling conflict, which continues to bring destruction and loss to Ukrainian households every day, has conditioned Ukrainians to react sensitively to almost every attribute of Russian culture, including Russian speech.
Olya, a recent university graduate, was raised in a Russian-speaking Ukrainian family* and shares that she instinctively feels suspicious when encountering Russian speech, pointing to the “inner defence mechanism” her mind has constructed in response to the Russian invasion. Eva, a French-Ukrainian student, experiences a similar tension and unease when confronting Russian language; to her, it symbolises aggression and violence.
Another Ukrainian student, Eugene, highlights the sense of uncertainty he often experienced when communicating with his Russian-speaking friends following the full-scale invasion, as he didn’t know how they would react to his choice of language.
Nevertheless, Ukrainian students acknowledge that the language dilemma is “not black and white,” expressing worry that any linguistic stigma among Russian speakers brings more harm than good. Fighting over which language to speak will “shatter our nation into pieces,” notes Olya, and questions whether denying the place of the Russian language in Ukraine’s history is worth the “rift” it might create.
Some Russian speakers of mixed national backgrounds told The Beaver that they had grown uncomfortable speaking Russian in public while abroad, as well as reluctant to disclose their cultural ties with Eastern Europe. Alan, a Canadian student of mixed East-European origin, prefers to veil his background for “ease of life, just to avoid any political discomfort”. Although he hadn’t experienced language-based stigma in Canada or the UK, Alan chooses to avoid potential confrontation due to the highly sensitive nature of language at times of conflict. “It’s more a fear of being judged than being actually judged,” pointing to the power of language to divide communities in the context of war.
Alan highlights that he doesn’t intentionally hide his connections with Russia. However, it is certainly not the first thing he would share about himself because his fluency in Russian no longer seems integral to his identity. “Modern Russia, or modern Eastern Europe, doesn’t accurately represent who I am”.
Mark**, an American student with Jewish-Russian roots, also reports feeling uneasy about speaking Russian in public, especially when he meets a Ukrainian person. “Before the conflict, I would walk up to literally anybody [who spoke Russian], but now I am nervous because I know that I mean no harm, but I don’t want [anyone] … to feel that I am condoning any sort of actions by choosing to speak Russian.”
Mark notes that regrettably, his fear of “send[ing] the wrong message” often prevents him from bonding with Ukrainian people and building friendships over a common language.
Dr Olga Sobolev, Language Coordinator of Literature and Russian Courses at LSE, relates to the students’ emotional experiences: “At the beginning [of the invasion], I did apologise practically in every conversation about what was happening between Russia and Ukraine at the time” because she felt “personal responsibility as a representative of Russian culture” at LSE.
“You can’t avoid this sense of guilt,” she says. “It is still there”.
However, Dr Sobolev believes that Russian speakers shouldn’t feel ashamed of speaking Russian, because “to narrow everything down to Putin’s regime will be reductive and unfair … in the same way that German culture shouldn’t be reduced to Nazism”. In her view, “to abandon their native idiom and culture only because of this unfortunate situation would be a shame.”
According to Dr Sobolev, the central value of language is its role in defining “patterns of thinking and the way you interact with the world,” which in turn shapes individual and community identities. A speaker of four languages, Alan agrees that languages offer “different perspectives on how we can exist on this planet,” and emphasises the practical benefits of expanding one’s linguistic repertoire.
Aside from shaping identity and world perception, language is the fundamental tool for communication and friendship-building, especially in an international context. The “bonding moment” and “instant connection” accessible through a common language remains a strong motivation for students to seek Russian-speaking friends at university.
Ultimately, language is a portal into a unique cultural context: recalling favourite TV shows, jokes, and nursery rhymes in a shared language can melt the barriers of communication within seconds. Apart from facilitating new bonds, language is key to maintaining long-distance relationships with family abroad.
LSE students seem to be navigating a balance between political views and linguistic practice, showcasing the urgency and practical possibility of separating the two elements. Eugene, a Russian-speaking Ukrainian student who nowadays predominantly speaks Ukrainian, claims to be flexible and “neutral-positive” towards the Russian language.
Eugene’s motivation to speak more Ukrainian didn’t come from any “negative feelings towards Russian”, but rather from “the desire to speak Ukrainian better.” Hearing Russian in public often “drags my interest”, Eugene says, and therefore he uses the language as a medium to connect with people in a non-political way.
“I treat each Russian individual positively until they prove otherwise,” he says. “Because of that, I will speak to them in Russian freely.”
Despite the sensitive nature of language in the midst of conflict, and the tendency to associate language choice with political stance, its fundamental purpose as a tool for communication, connection, and engagement with the world highlights the need to reconsider our daily linguistic practices.
Tolerance, respect, and patience are central to re-building any relations, especially those tarnished by conflict. This is a very difficult and often painful process, and it starts with acknowledging the historical and cultural background which informs individual language choices.
As Dr Sobolev noted, “you need to change mentality” to stimulate change, which is a “question of several decades, if not centuries.” And yet, the value of human connection and free expression of identity through language is worth the effort of rewiring oneself and withholding prejudice, linguistic or otherwise. Peace, after all, is a product of individual moral choices combined into a sustainable pattern of thought and behaviour, thus giving any person the right to co-exist in this turbulent hive of a human swarm.
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*For historical reasons, associated with Russification policies carried out in Ukraine at the age of the Russian Empire and the USSR, most Ukrainian people are fluent in Ukrainian and Russian (with geographical variations).
** Some names in this article have been altered to preserve anonymity of the interviewees.
Illustration by Francesca Corno
