There are many ways in which language-study and an interest in translation become a window on the world. This has certainly been demonstrated by material I've engaged with lately on Ukraine.

One aspect is that the virtual communities that cluster round online language teachers are spread literally throughout the world, and of course include learners from Ukraine.

Hugo, the founder of Inner French, lives in Poland, so he has personally witnessed the arrival of refugees from Ukraine. His interviews with Ukrainian learners allow us to hear directly about their shock, horror, and disbelief at the invasion itself; and about the agonizing decisions they faced on whether to stay or whether to flee (one fled her home only to see later on television that her apartment block had been destroyed). For one speaker, this is not a war, but a series of attacks on civilians, many of them the most vulnerable members of society. (This speaker, incidentally, comes originally from the east of the country, from a Russian-speaking town. But everyone speaks Ukrainian, she says, and no-one suffered discrimination for speaking Russian. Ukraine is very much a multi-lingual place, she goes on; in the west, for example, some are native Rumanian speakers. Two other Russophones also testify to never having experienced discrimination of the type that was cited as a pretext for the invasion.)

Juan, the driver of 1001 Reasons To Learn Spanish, also interviews a Ukrainian woman who has been studying Spanish through his podcasts, videos, and other online activities. She lives in Kyiv, but her parents are based in Irpin, a locality that suffered huge damage, and was without water, electricity, gas, or connectivity at the time of recording. For several days she had no news of them (but before the podcast aired, she had at least heard that they were alive). In Kyiv, there are shortages of everything, she says, and although her locality is stable, she can hear the bombs all the time. She was born in Russia, and is a native Russian-speaker. But almost all Ukrainians, she says, are bilingual; and she agrees that it's nonsense to say that Russian-speakers face discrimination.


All the pictures in this post were taken in Barnaul, Russia, 1993

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Words Without Borders, a great site that promotes the translation and publication of contemporary international literature, has been focusing on Ukrainian voices of late (some writing in Ukrainian, some in Russian).

There's a selection here.

But I was also particularly struck by these: There's No Getting Out, by Olga Bragina (on desperation); Until the Threads Burn to Ash, by Aleksey Porvin (on propaganda); and February 23rd, 2022, by Danyil Zadorozhnyi (on displacement).



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And then, very bravely and movingly, there have been the testimonies of my Russian online teachers.

Online relationships are strange things. You don't know the people personally, and yet -- because they put themselves into their work, and because you stay in touch with them on a regular and long-term basis -- you do feel you get to know them. One of the very first things that crossed my mind when I heard that the invasion had happened was: I'm sure my Russian teachers will be horrified by this. And several, very bravely, have come out and said that they are.

Alfia, for example, who is based in Portugal, records her shocked and grieved reaction here. A little later she talks about the penalties for posting material deemed to be antiwar, and notes that many people are now deleting their videos. But Alfia is deleting nothing. She knows Ukrainians in Portugal, and had students in Ukraine. She describes the situation as "a huge wound inside me".

Natalia also expresses her horror and disbelief at what is going on. And she is among the many caught in the economic crossfire. Her website has been suspended, so she can't communicate with her students any more, and effectively can't continue to work normally. Needless to say, you can't compare this with what the Ukrainians have been suffering. Nevertheless, to lose your living overnight is not a small thing. She's now set herself up differently, and continues to speak out, teaching grammar points as she goes (this one, for example, entitled "we don't want all this...", teaches the different words for "all").



Max and Yulia (from Russian With Max) rapidly put out a livestream explaining what they thought about the war. Very interesting, thought-provoking stuff (and there's an English transcript if you don't speak Russian). They're absolutely clear that the war is a catastrophe, not only for Ukraine but also for Russia. They're also well aware that Russia is divided over this. Many people are against it, but their protests are immediately snuffed out, and no-one in authority listens anyway (Russian civil society, they say, is not very unified, after many years of governmental attempts to disrupt it). Many others, on the other hand, uncritically accept the government line. Sanctions, though an understandable reaction, will not work, in that they will not stop the war. And they will eventually hit ordinary Russian people, who have no influence over Putin. People like Max are hugely affected by disconnection from the SWIFT system. Nor does the increasing political isolation of the government bode well for ordinary people in the long term.

They followed this up a few weeks later with another livestream. Disconnection had proceeded apace, with Russia now blocking Instagram and Facebook, and rumoured to be planning to shut down Youtube in the near future. They urge viewers not to tar all Russians with the same brush, or to criticize what some outside the country see as lack of action. If you're not in Russia, it is easy, they say, to misunderstand what protest is like -- namely, potentially dangerous for your life and family. Even what they are doing here with their livestreams, they are aware, might have consequences. Heavens, people have been arrested even for holding up blank pieces of paper... Protest there is, but the lack of data makes it really difficult to get a picture of how many Russians think what. The flight of Russians from Russia is another topic they cover extensively. Who has left? Well, journalists, cultural figures, people who feel they are in danger, people who are in total disagreement with what is happening and don't know what to do. And people who can now no longer do in Russia the job they used to do.

And a little later, they are themselves leaving Russia... After a temporary stay in Armenia, they're now in Serbia, where they hope to set up a more durable arrangement. I wish them luck. It's never easy to be a migrant, and I can hardly imagine how these circumstances make them feel.

The Economist has an interesting story that complements Max and Yulia's experience. Since the war started, it is estimated that at least 14,000 Russians have moved to Turkey. Their options limited (EU countries have banned flights from Russia), they see Turkey, which lets them in without visas, as a refuge. It's a sad story. These are young professionals, the kind of people no country can afford to lose in droves like this. And of course, they are following an interesting historical precedent: "In the 1920s some 200,000 Russians, Ukrainians, Azeris and Georgians fleeing Bolshevik rule reached Istanbul on crowded steamships." Almost all of this wave of the migrants moved on into Europe, and the current arrivals are looking for other destinations as well. But for a while yet, Istanbul is likely to "remain a way-station for many of Russia's best and brightest". What a tragedy.



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Many of these pieces bring up the issues of history and propaganda. So, as a coda, I'll mention that these articles by Timothy Snyder and Sheila Fitzpatrick are helpful on the history front. And an interesting little sidelight on the propaganda question comes from Kirsten Han in Singapore.