In a nutshell: No, boycotting the Russian language will not change the outcome of the war in Ukraine. This opinion piece takes a clear stance: the language of Pushkin, Tolstoy and Dostoevsky does not belong to Putin or his army. I am a staunch supporter of Ukraine, married to a Ukrainian woman, and yet I refuse to throw away 20 years of learning Russian to satisfy a form of false patriotism that breeds guilt more than freedom. Here is why.

If you have been following me on YouTube for years, you already know this: I am a devoted supporter of Ukraine. My wife Boryslava is Ukrainian, we got married in Rivière-Rouge in the Laurentians, and since the very first day of this military aggression, I have felt a deep and burning anger against the Putin regime. This article is not a defence of Putin's Russia — far from it. It is a rant against those who, thinking they are resistance fighters, are aiming at the wrong target. This is a personal opinion piece — it commits no one but myself, and I stand by every word of it.

I am speaking today to those of you who love Russian culture — and I know there are many among you, gentlemen reading this from the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom or Australia — who admire this deep and magnificent culture while firmly rejecting the Putin clique that has lost all reason by launching this senseless war on Ukrainian soil.

  Twenty Years Learning the Language of Pushkin — And I Am Not Ashamed

My love for Russian culture and language goes back to my earliest childhood, when I first discovered the works of Fyodor Dostoevsky. Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, The Brothers Karamazov — these books turned my brain inside out at an age when most kids were reading comic books. There was something in Dostoevsky's psychological depth that pulled me like a magnet. I had the sensation of reading an author who understood the human soul better than any modern psychologist ever could.

Over a period of twenty years, I undertook the study of the Russian language with one single goal in mind: to be able to read the original works of Tolstoy, Chekhov and Dostoevsky in the language in which they were conceived, dreamed and written. Because even the finest translation will never fully render the depth of an author's reflections — I understood this the day I first read Dostoevsky in the original Russian, an experience that changed my entire perspective on the Slavic world. Today, I am particularly proud to be fluent in the language of Pushkin. Twenty years of relentless work. Twenty years of sweat, Russian grammar and infernal declensions. And now someone wants me to forget all of that because a dictator decided to invade Ukraine?

  2014: When Ukraine Still Spoke Russian

When I first arrived in Ukraine in 2014, during my meeting with Boryslava, I was delighted to discover that Ukrainians spoke Russian and not exclusively Ukrainian. This made my immersion into my wife's country — and the launch of the CQMI agency — considerably easier. Picture the scene: I land in Ukraine, I speak fluent Russian, and everyone understands me. It was wonderful. Conversations with families, meetings with our female members, administrative procedures — everything was done in this language I had spent so many years mastering. As I have often explained, the Russian language was sufficient to communicate everywhere in Ukraine — this is a historical reality that no one can deny.

But today, in 2026, speaking Russian has become forbidden in Ukraine, and most Ukrainians have decided to abandon the Russian language in favour of Ukrainian. I understand the pain, I understand the rage, I understand the need to differentiate oneself from the aggressor. But does it actually move things forward?

  No, I Am Not Ready to Make This Conversion

Here is the thing — I am not ready to make the same switch, and I will tell you exactly why. I love the Russian language and I worked incredibly hard for years to make it my own. And I have absolutely no desire to forget it. When I read War and Peace in the original text, when I listen to Pushkin's poems, when I watch a Soviet film from the 1970s and understand every word, every nuance, every play on words — that is a treasure I built brick by brick over two decades.

The Russian language does not belong to Putin or his defence minister. Putin and all the Russian soldiers who committed this aggression will be dead and buried — and the Russian language will survive. When War and Peace was written, Putin did not exist. When Chekhov wrote The Cherry Orchard, Putin did not exist. When Dostoevsky plunged into the depths of the human soul with Demons, Putin did not exist. The Russian language has absolutely nothing to do with this cursed war. And I sincerely believe that Ukrainians who attack the Russian language are targeting the wrong enemy.

  "You Don't Speak Russian Anymore?" — The Daily Discomfort I Experience

Around me, I hear Ukrainians who categorically refuse to speak Russian, and it makes me deeply uncomfortable. The other day, a Ukrainian acquaintance gave me a sharp look when I let slip a few words in Russian during a conversation. I wanted to ask her: how exactly will refusing to speak Russian have any influence whatsoever on the outcome of this war? Concretely, what does it change for the Ukrainian army on the front lines near Pokrovsk or Kherson? Will Ukrainian soldiers sleep better tonight because you ordered your coffee in Ukrainian rather than Russian?

I am particularly frustrated by those Ukrainians who believe they are loyal patriots by forgetting the Russian language. Whether you speak Russian or Ukrainian — what difference does it make to the defence of the territory? I will give you the answer, and it fits in four words: it makes no difference. Not a single missile will be stopped because someone changed the language settings on their phone. Not a single village will be liberated because a family in Kyiv decided to stop singing the Russian lullabies they have known for three generations.

  Cheap Patriotism — When Rejecting Russian Replaces Real Action

In fact, I have discovered the true meaning behind this attack on the Russian language, and it is not pretty. It allows certain Ukrainians to convince themselves they are true patriots when, deep inside, they feel guilty for having done nothing and for having fled their responsibilities. It is a low-cost, zero-risk, zero-constraint way of convincing oneself that one has become a soldier. You do not risk your life in the trenches, you do not give blood to the Red Cross, but you refuse to speak Russian — and you feel heroic.

I have bad news for these people: you are aiming at the wrong target. The Russian language has done nothing to you. It is not the Russian language that decided to invade Ukraine. It is not Russian grammar that ordered the bombing of Mariupol. It is not Russian noun declensions that pilot Iranian drones over Kharkiv. It is men, politicians, generals — not a language, not a culture, not books.

And I will tell you something else that may shock you: the greatest Ukrainians in history — those who forged Ukrainian identity, who fought for independence — often spoke Russian fluently. Taras Shevchenko himself, the father of Ukrainian literature, wrote part of his diary in Russian. Did that make him a traitor? Of course not.

  What This Means for You, Western Men

If you are reading this from the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom or Australia, you may be wondering what this story has to do with your search for a Ukrainian or Russian woman. The connection is direct and fundamental. Many of the Ukrainian women you will meet through the CQMI Agency are perfectly bilingual in Russian and Ukrainian. Some come from Russian-speaking families, others grew up with both languages. This linguistic richness is part of who they are — and you must respect it, not fear it.

Political questions are a minefield in international dating. My advice: do not take a radical position on the language issue when you meet a Ukrainian woman. Listen to her, understand her pain if she has lost loved ones in this war, but do not judge her either if she still speaks Russian in private. The world is not black and white — and it is precisely in this grey zone that the most authentic relationships are built.

I will say it again and again: these women are not looking for a one-night stand. They are looking for a serious man, a marriage, a lifelong union. This is precisely why women from Eastern Europe will choose a serious matchmaking agency like CQMI over a dating app where you swipe left and right with zero commitment. If you are not serious, please abstain.

  My Conclusion: Let Us Defend Ukraine Without Killing the Russian Language

I am pro-Ukraine, I am the husband of a Ukrainian woman, and I will continue to speak Russian. These two realities are not contradictory. They are complementary. Because to truly understand the Slavic world, to navigate the subtleties of the differences between Russian and Ukrainian women, to create an authentic bond with a woman from this part of the world — you need to move beyond simplistic positions and embrace complexity.

Putin will pass. His regime will fall, sooner or later, like every authoritarian regime before it. But Tolstoy will remain. Chekhov will remain. Pushkin will remain. And the Russian language will remain, because it is far greater than the crimes of those who currently speak it in the Kremlin.

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  Questions? Contact me directly: antoine@cqmi.ca

— Antoine Monnier, Founder of CQMI International Matchmaking Agency