Theoretical framework

The term new speaker originates in the stream of research on European minority languages, where this type of speaker has emerged as a key factor in sustaining minority language vitality (Ó Murchadha, Smith-Christmas, Hornsby, & Moriarty Reference Ó Murchadha, Hornsby, Smith-Christmas, Moriarty, Smith-Christmas, Murchadha, Hornsby and Moriarty2018:8). For this reason, a discussion of the new speaker phenomenon in the context of majority languages, such as Ukrainian, may provoke a debate. However, recent studies on migration-induced linguistic encounters (Soler & Zabrodskaja Reference Soler and Zabrodskaja2017; Horner & Weber Reference Horner and Weber2018:79; Spotti, Kroon, & Li Reference Spotti, Kroon and Jinling2019) have increasingly employed the term ‘new speaker’ in relation to majority languages. Rather than simply marking an expansion of usage, these studies reflect a shift in the conceptualisation of the ‘new speaker’ term—from a descriptive label used to categorise speaker types to a critical analytical framework.

The expansion of the new speaker paradigm to include some of the world’s dominant languages has encouraged a broader definition of new speakers as ‘social actors who use and claim ownership of a language that is not, for whatever reason, typically perceived as belonging to them’ (Ó Murchadha et al. Reference Ó Murchadha, Hornsby, Smith-Christmas, Moriarty, Smith-Christmas, Murchadha, Hornsby and Moriarty2018:4). This broader conceptualisation allows for the application of the framework across a variety of contexts: from migration, which frequently underpins new speakerhood in majority language settings, to formal and informal education, which often produces new speakers of minority languages. Likewise, new speakers, whether of majority or minority languages, possess a wide range of competences from emerging proficiencies through to expert, or ‘near-native’, levels. Importantly, the new speaker framework is not merely a reformulation of traditional categories, such as ‘second language’, ‘L2’, ‘learner’, or ‘non-native’ speaker. Rather, the framework offers a conceptual alternative that challenges binary distinctions implicit in those terms. While these conventional labels reinforce hierarchical and deficit-based models, privileging so-called ‘native’ speakers, the new speaker framework foregrounds their ideological underpinnings, drawing attention to how these traditional categories delegitimise the linguistic authority of new speakers (O’Rourke, Pujolar, & Ramallo Reference O’Rourke, Pujolar and Ramallo2015; Ó Murchadha et al. Reference Ó Murchadha, Hornsby, Smith-Christmas, Moriarty, Smith-Christmas, Murchadha, Hornsby and Moriarty2018:3). As it brings to light tensions surrounding language ownership and the legitimacy of different speaker identities, ‘new speakerness’ has increasingly been understood ‘as a lens through which to analyse the contemporary dynamics of multilingual communities and their speakers’ (O’Rourke & Walsh Reference O’Rourke2018:377).

The idea that a language is more rightfully appropriated by, and thus perceived to belong to, one kind of speaker rather than others is grounded in ‘authenticity’—an ideology portraying languages as entrenched in particular territories and linked to particular people (Woolard Reference Woolard, Süselbeck, Mühlschlegel and Masson2008). This ideology inheres in and informs socially constructed linguistic hierarchies that revolve around the figure of the ‘ideal’ speaker. In the case of non-standardised languages, these hierarchies are often based on NORMs (non-mobile older rural males), seen as the sole legitimate and authentic bearers of the language. Here, the ‘native’ speaker is idealised as embodying the most ‘authentic’ form of linguistic expression (O’Rourke et al. Reference O’Rourke, Pujolar and Ramallo2015:11). For languages that have elaborated standards, linguistic hierarchies are grounded in the reification of the ‘standard’ language and the belief that the ideologised standard variety is inherently correct and exists as the only legitimate and prestige model of language (Milroy Reference Milroy2001). Within this ideology, authenticity is assigned to those who ‘own’ the standard, often institutionalised experts, such as professional linguists or language teachers. These hierarchies often constitute the source of tensions between different kinds of speakers seen as more or less ‘authentic’ in ideological terms. In both models—whether idealising ‘native’ or ‘standard’ language—the emphasis falls on purity, and in both of them, new speakers are commonly placed at the bottom and denigrated. The reason for this is that new speakers are frequently associated with hybridised language practices and ‘non-native’ accents or seen to lack an appropriate origin ‘because they were born in the “wrong” place’ (Hornsby Reference Hornsby2015:120–21). By foregrounding these ideologies, the new speaker framework shifts the analytical focus from linguistic practices to individuals embedded in multilingual realities, highlighting how crossing linguistic and cultural boundaries shapes their experience and social positioning (Soler & Zabrodskaja Reference Soler and Zabrodskaja2017:561).

Key characteristics uniting new speakers across diverse contexts include the wide range of their backgrounds and competencies, the acquisition of language outside of the home or in settings where it does not dominate, and the incorporation of the ‘new’ language into their active linguistic repertoires (O’Rourke & Walsh Reference O’Rourke2018). Within this broad category, a distinct subset of speakers, known as ‘linguistic converts’, can be identified by focusing on the extent to which speakers abandon or retain their first language in the process of adopting a new one. The notion of linguistic conversion has been conceptualised in various ways. Those range from an emphasis on ‘near-native’ proficiency as a marker of successful transition (Woolard Reference Woolard2011), to viewing resistance to top-down language policies as a primary motivation for language shift (Woolhiser Reference Woolhiser, David and Christina2013; O’Rourke Reference O’Rourke2018), as well as highlighting the construction of a new identity through a full-time use of a new language (Bilaniuk Reference Bilaniuk2020). While these perspectives differ in emphasis, they concur around the idea that linguistic conversion involves the exclusive or predominant adoption of new language practices, driven by a conscious decision and sustained personal commitment.

The sociopolitical context of post-independence Ukraine

After Ukraine gained independence in 1991, the Ukrainian language was made a cornerstone in its nation-state-building project. Established in 1989, its official status as the sole state language was reaffirmed by the Constitution passed in 1996. Although the Constitution also granted a ‘free development, use and protection of Russian’, it was widely interpreted as promoting official monolingualism in Ukraine (Bilaniuk & Melnyk Reference Bilaniuk and Melnyk2008:350). The state-sponsored Ukrainianisation campaign aimed at expanding the public use of Ukrainian and reducing the prevalence of Ukrainian-Russian bilingualism which, at the time of independence, was perceived to be leading to a complete shift to Russian (Taranenko Reference Taranenko2007:122). These concerns fed into broader narratives of language endangerment, in which Ukrainian was portrayed as a ‘small’ language threatened by the ‘big’ language Russian and ‘victimised by the Soviet regime’ (Pavlenko Reference Pavlenko2011). Within this perceived endangerment, the weakening of Ukrainian was also attributed to the continued use of Russian by ethnic Ukrainians, imagined as having abandoned their ‘true’ mother tongue. The association between ethnicity and language became entrenched in state institutions, particularly in education. In Ukrainian schools, for example, teachers often articulated discourses of an imagined community of the ‘Ukrainian nation’ and identified Ukrainian as ‘our native language’ even when it was not the language spoken by the schoolchildren at home (Friedman Reference Friedman2016). Over time, such discourses have shaped a prevailing view linking Ukrainian language use to Ukrainian national identity.

The emphasis on language and identity became more pronounced after 2014, following Russia’s annexation of Crimea and the onset of armed conflict in the easternmost part of Ukraine known as the Donbas. Russia’s assertion of sovereignty over Ukraine’s ‘Russian-speaking’ regions brought language into sharper focus within the national security discourse, reinforcing the symbolic significance of Ukrainian (Csernicskó & Kontra Reference Csernicskó, Kontra, Skutnabb-Kangas and Phillipson2023). This time also saw the consolidation of the state-sponsored policy of monolingualism, reflected in post-2014 legislation that, while aiming to promote Ukrainian, has drawn criticism for curtailing the linguistic rights of national minorities in Ukraine (Fiala-Butora Reference Fiala-Butora2020; Csernicskó & Kontra Reference Csernicskó, Kontra, Skutnabb-Kangas and Phillipson2023). Set against the post-independence discourse that closely links language to national belonging, the events of 2014 contributed to a broader public perception of language choice as a political act (Bilaniuk Reference Bilaniuk and Bertelsen2016). In this context, linguistic conversion—‘the decision to radically change one’s daily linguistic practices, switching from Russian to Ukrainian as part of a personal act of patriotism and contribution to nation-building’ (Bilaniuk Reference Bilaniuk2020:60)—began to gain traction. Since 2014, the Ukrainianisation process has been also supported by grassroots efforts, such as nationwide networks of volunteer language instructors known as Bezkoštovni kursy ukrajins’koji movy Footnote ¹ ‘Free Ukrainian Language Courses’. The 2022 full-scale Russian invasion further intensified alignment with Ukrainian, together with a growing rejection of Russian as ‘the enemy’s language’. In April 2022, another volunteer initiative Jedyni ‘United’ was launched in response to the invasion. Since then, numerous offline and online volunteer courses and community clubs have been organised across Ukraine (Kursy 2024).

Along with the strong social and political pressure to convert to Ukrainian, the post-independence Ukrainianisation campaign placed emphasis on Standard Ukrainian as the most legitimate and ‘pure’ form of the language. This posed a significant psychological barrier for speakers of Russian criticised for mixing Ukrainian and Russian in speech. The acquisition of Standard Ukrainian has been traditionally seen as achievable through formal education, where any blending of Ukrainian and Russian is stigmatised (Friedman Reference Friedman, Duranti, Ochs and Schieffelin2011). In schools, Standard Ukrainian has frequently been presented as the ‘pure and beautiful’ language contrasted with the Ukrainian-Russian mixed variety suržyk positioned as separate from Ukrainian. Suržyk is a hybridised form of language that arises from the interaction of Ukrainian and Russian, two structurally similar languages. For some speakers, it can function as ‘native’, that is, spoken by individuals as their first language; for others, it can be a ‘transitional’ form resulting from an incomplete mastery of one or both languages (Bilaniuk Reference Bilaniuk2005). While being encouraged to adopt the Ukrainian language, Russian speakers have often been simultaneously marginalised within dominant discourses equating authenticity with purity and correctness.

The post-independence period in Ukraine has seen the emergence of what has been termed Neo-Suržyk (Hentschel Reference Hentschel2024)—a Russian-based mixed variety that has developed along with the broader increase in Ukrainian language use. The linguistic profile of many new Ukrainian speakers is often associated with suržyk, as these individuals typically embrace Ukrainian later in life and may have had limited exposure to the language in the home or through formal schooling. For linguistic converts—those who undertake a complete transition to Ukrainian in all contexts of use—the process can be particularly challenging. These individuals not only distance from their first language Russian, perceived as an ‘illegitimate’ language in the context of war, but may also be discredited as Ukrainian speakers within ideologies that emphasise purity and correctness. As Bilaniuk (Reference Bilaniuk2020:61) notes, for many converts, the shift represents ‘a concerted, life-altering step, an assertion of their agency in constructing their own identity’. Within dominant purist discourses, however, their speech is often characterised as a Ukrainian-Russian mix and perceived as equally illegitimate, which potentially leads to the questioning or disqualification of their Ukrainian identity. This article explores how linguistic converts navigate these tensions by developing strategies of linguistic self-legitimation within the supportive environments, or ‘safe spaces’ (Kudriavtseva Reference Kudriavtseva2025a), of the grassroots language courses and community clubs where alternative models of linguistic authority can emerge and be maintained.

Method and participants

This article draws on data from a broader ethnographic enquiry into the motivations and ‘transitioning strategies’ of participants involved in informal Ukrainian language-learning initiatives, including the two nationwide networks mentioned above. Previous research has shown that some of these individuals spoke a variety of Ukrainian or suržyk in early childhood before shifting to Russian in formal education (see Kudriavtseva Reference Kudriavtseva2023). However, the largest group consists of participants who did not use Ukrainian during childhood but studied the language at school, which, in many cases, resulted in the development of passive bilingualism. These linguistic trajectories align with the broad conceptualisation of new speakers offered by O’Rourke & Walsh (Reference O’Rourke2018), who describe them as individuals who acquire a language through education or are raised with it at home in settings where it is not socially dominant. In some cases, new speakers may be exposed to the language in the home but are still raised speaking a different language. This is a common scenario in Ukraine, where many people understand Ukrainian well due to early exposure but did not actively speak it as children, and are now using it as new speakers. Others were neither exposed to Ukrainian in the home nor had the chance to acquire it in education, having migrated to Ukraine after completing formal schooling elsewhere. Drawing on research on new speakers of both minority (O’Rourke & Walsh Reference O’Rourke2018; Smith-Christmas, Ó Murchadha, Hornsby, & Moriarty Reference Smith-Christmas, Murchadha, Hornsby and Moriarty2018) and majority (Soler & Zabrodskaja Reference Soler and Zabrodskaja2017; Spotti et al. Reference Spotti, Kroon and Jinling2019) languages, four main types of new speaker backgrounds can be identified: (i) acquisition through formal education, (ii) informal language socialisation in environments dominated by another language, (iii) early childhood exposure, and (iv), in the case of adult migrants, no prior exposure through any of these channels. All of these speaker profiles are represented among participants in Ukrainian informal language initiatives, reflecting a wide range of linguistic experiences and pathways into new speakerhood.

Out of the interview data collected from sixty-five participants identified as new Ukrainian speakers, this article focuses on twenty-one biographical interviews conducted with participants who explicitly claim a linguistic conversion. These interviews, recorded both offline and online, were collected from those involved in the two nationwide language-learning initiatives, Free Ukrainian Language Courses (FULC) and United, as well as one local project Spilkujmosja ukrajins’koju ‘Let’s Speak Ukrainian’, based in the frontline southeastern city of Kryvyj Rih. While the data collection spanned over 2021–2023, the twenty-one interviews with self-identified full-time Ukrainian speakers were recorded after the onset of the full-scale invasion, between October 2022 and September 2023.

The interviews elicited the participants’ ‘sociolinguistic biographies’—narratives reflecting their experiences with different languages from early childhood onward, the factors that influenced their decision to transition from Russian to Ukrainian, and the challenges they encountered as linguistic converts in Ukraine. While this study does not adopt a full-scale ethnographic approach involving direct observation of the participants’ language practice, it is informed by an ethnographic perspective, drawing on principles from work in linguistic ethnography (Copland & Creese Reference Copland and Creese2015). Particularly, it employs a phenomenological approach to biographical interview (Busch Reference Busch2016) attending to participants’ lived experiences, emotions, and reflections. These accounts are analysed in relation to traditional ideologies that establish linguistic hierarchies based on purity and correctness.

The participants come from eleven different cities and towns in the north-eastern and south-eastern parts of Ukraine. Some were forced to relocate from Donets’k and Sjevjerodonets’k to Odesa in the south and Ivano-Frankivs’k in the west after the onset of the full-scale invasion. Another participant left Kherson and was interviewed after moving to Kyiv. Table 1 summarises their profiles and details of language practice.

Table 1. Speaker profiles.

Ideologies of linguistic conversion into Ukrainian from Russian

In the sections that follow, I examine language ideologies underpinning the participants’ perceptions of traditional linguistic hierarchies for Ukrainian and their own position in them. I also explore how the participants negotiate, challenge, and re-imagine such hierarchies and lay claims to language ownership as they form new speaker communities within informal language-learning initiatives aimed at promoting the use of Ukrainian.

Aligning with traditional linguistic hierarchies based on purity and correctness

The hegemonic linguistic hierarchy for Ukrainian is built around the ideal of the speaker who masters the standard and promoted through public discourse and media. This hierarchy has also been traditionally reproduced in Ukrainian schools where language socialisation often centres on corrective feedback targeting students’ use of Russian and hybrid Ukrainian-Russian forms, commonly referred to as suržyk (Friedman Reference Friedman2010, Reference Friedman, Duranti, Ochs and Schieffelin2011). The error correction routines are accompanied by messages of obligation to speak the ‘pure and beautiful’ Ukrainian language, which, against the established very high standards, is perceived to be possible only for experts, such as language teachers themselves (Friedman Reference Friedman2016).

In response to my question about what it means to acquire proficiency in Ukrainian, several linguistic converts echoed the traditional perspective, equating language mastery with speaking ‘correctly’. Some expressed a desire to further improve their Ukrainian, viewing their current proficiency as still imperfect or incomplete. Maja, a full-time Ukrainian speaker since 2014, shared that her interest in the language was partly inspired by her granddaughter, who was learning Ukrainian at school. They agreed to learn the language together.

When asked how important it is to speak Ukrainian well, Maja responded that it is very important, equating proficiency with speaking ‘without mistakes’. She described this concern as her “pytannja nomer odyn”—her ‘number one question’. Her attitude towards suržyk, the Ukrainian-Russian mixed variety, is expressively negative; she refers to it as a ‘contaminated’ language. This characterisation suggests that the issue with suržyk lies not only in its perceived incorrectness, that is, its deviation from standard norms, but in its impurity as a hybrid language. Such framing reflects an underlying ideology of clearly bounded, distinct languages, which is central to the purist discourse.

Maja elaborates on her attitude toward suržyk: “… ce zasmičena mova ce ne ukrajins’ka mova ce take xtozna-ščo ne znaju (.) v mene čolovik ja joho ves’ čas popravljaju vin serdyt’sja a ja popravljaju” ‘… it is a contaminated language. It is not the Ukrainian language, it is nobody knows what. I don’t know. I have a husband and I correct him all the time. He gets angry but I correct him anyway’. In line with the traditional hierarchy reinforced in formal education, Maja attempts to elevate her linguistic position by correcting others—such as her husband—thereby asserting her authority as a legitimate speaker of the Ukrainian language. For Maja, correction serves not only as a form of boundary-making, but also as a strategy of self-legitimation. She consciously distances herself from suržyk, rejecting it as ‘not Ukrainian’ and implying that it does not qualify as a language at all. Through this rejection, she lays claim to the knowledge of a ‘pure’ Ukrainian, which is traditionally viewed as the only pathway to authenticity.

Views of suržyk as a distinct and denigrated variety, entirely separate from the Ukrainian language, were rarely expressed by the linguistic converts I interviewed. Only four out of twenty-one participants aligned with this perspective. More commonly, suržyk was viewed in a comparatively positive light—particularly when contrasted with Russian. In his interview, Petro exemplifies this position while still subscribing to the traditional hierarchy based on the mastery of a ‘pure’ language. In response to my question about what it means to speak Ukrainian well, Petro says that “ce koly ljudyna znaje majže doskonalo movu” ‘it is when a person knows the language almost perfectly’. For Petro, this includes speaking ‘without mistakes’, and possessing complete lexical knowledge—‘all the words, all the adjectives, everything’. Yet, even if a speaker makes mistakes, Petro maintains that this is preferable to using the Russian language: “ce tež krašče niž rosijs’koju zvyčajno (.) ale zvyčajno krašče ščob povnistju ovolodity” ‘of course, it is still better than [speaking] Russian. But certainly, it is best to master [Ukrainian] completely’.

The preference of ‘mixed’ Ukrainian over Russian reflects a particular ideological stance. While Petro continues to align with the traditional linguistic hierarchy that privileges standard Ukrainian, he simultaneously sets the group of Ukrainian speakers in opposition to speakers of other languages—primarily Russian. That is how the initial opposition between the speakers of standard and non-standard Ukrainian is projected outward by means of fractal recursivity (Irvine & Gal Reference Irvine, Gal and Paul2000)—a semiotic process whereby the values associated with the differentiation between standard and non-standard varieties of Ukrainian are projected onto the larger relationship between Ukrainian and Russian. Through this projection, Petro positions himself within the sphere of Ukrainian speakers and claims ‘authenticity’, grounding his claim in the act of abandoning Russian.

Similarly, when asked about his attitude toward suržyk, Petro once again references Russian, conceptualising suržyk as a transitional phase on the path toward full mastery of Ukrainian

Although Petro’s perception of the Ukrainian-Russian mixed speech remains somewhat ambivalent, his observation that Russians are not happy with how the hybrid usage affects the Russian language, reframes suržyk as a consequence of Ukrainian influence. In contrast to Maja’s view, which sees suržyk as a product of Russian contamination, Petro interprets it as arising out of the encroachment of Ukrainian onto Russian. In his words, suržyk ‘breaks the Russian language’. This reframing allows Petro to re-evaluate suržyk not as a linguistic deficiency, but as the first step toward full mastery of Ukrainian, whereby suržyk is seen as a part, a variety of the Ukrainian language. He further reinforces this view by describing his current speech as suržyk, while noting that he already possesses ‘very powerful things’, suggesting that, at this early stage, he is already speaking Ukrainian. This sense of progress empowers him to believe that suržyk will eventually ‘disappear’ and that he will go on to master Standard Ukrainian. While Petro generally aligns with the traditional linguistic hierarchy rooted in the ideals of purity and correctness, he simultaneously legitimises his ‘impure’ Ukrainian by projecting it in opposition to Russian. Unlike Maja, who rejects suržyk outright, Petro’s stance allows for a broader conception of Ukrainian speakerhood, one that includes users of hybrid forms within the imagined community of Ukrainian-speaking Ukrainians.

Re-imagining linguistic hierarchies

Alignment with the ideology of a singular, ‘ideal’ standard does not preclude speakers from negotiating or reinterpreting the traditional view. One way the traditional hierarchy is re-imagined is by limiting the standard to a very small speaker group. Larysa, for instance, expresses doubt in the existence of speakers who fully conform to the standard, suggesting that such speakers, if they exist at all, are not numerous: “ne može buty stovidsotkovo hramotna ljudyna (.) nu ce mabut’ jakis’ profesory abo žurnalisty” ‘People one hundred percent speaking correctly cannot exist. Well, maybe some professors or journalists’. Larysa’s hesitation to acknowledge the presence of fully standard speakers implies that she has never encountered one personally. This is signalled by her use of jakis’ ‘some’, indicating distance and uncertainty. For her, the absence of such speakers in her lived experience of Ukrainian becomes the reason to question their existence altogether. Yet, under the influence of traditional ideologies, she still concedes that standard speakers may exist—likely among educated professionals, such as ‘professors or journalists’.

Similarly, the use of the standard is limited to exceptional situations or highly formal contexts. In keeping with the traditional hierarchy, Vladyslav acknowledges that ‘correct’ language use implies complete mastery of Ukrainian. He simultaneously takes a more flexible view, expressing a positive attitude toward mistakes: “pomylka ce normal’ne javyšče” ‘a mistake is a normal phenomenon’. Vladyslav draws a clear distinction between formal and informal contexts of language use, thereby carving out space for language variation. In his view, Standard Ukrainian is suited for formal audiences and official styles, such as ‘defending a dissertation’ or ‘delivering a speech or an academic lecture’, whereas non-standard varieties are described as more ‘authentic’, ‘not artificial’, and ‘not purified’, and are more appropriate for everyday communication.

Even suržyk is viewed positively by Vladyslav, who openly acknowledges using it, citing his origins in Kryvyj Rih, a city he describes as a melting pot for different people and languages. He not only associates suržyk with everyday language use in his home region, but also extends it over the whole of Ukraine, remarking that “samyj suržyk prykol’nyj na Zakarpatti” ‘the funniest suržyk is spoken in Zakarpattja’. This is particularly notable given that Zakarpattja, located in the westernmost part of Ukraine, is sometimes stereotypically perceived as the area where the ‘best’ or ‘purest’ Ukrainian is spoken. Although both Vladyslav and Larysa still operate within the traditional linguistic hierarchy that places Standard Ukrainian, and its speakers, at the top, they reinterpret this hierarchy by assigning standard language use to exceptional individuals, who are less numerous, and exceptional contexts, which are less common. In doing so, they normalise non-standard varieties as appropriate for informal use.

Another way of re-imagining the traditional hierarchy is by challenging the assumption that those at the ‘top’ share a uniform understanding of the standard. Vladyslav suggests that “jakščo vysoko pidnjat’sja v ukrajins’kij movi tež budut’ taki traktuvannja jaki neodnoznačni” ‘if one rises high in the Ukrainian language, there will also be such interpretations that are ambiguous’. The metaphor of ‘rising high’ reflects the imagined hierarchy of linguistic correctness that positions language experts at the top. By attributing ambiguity to this top tier, Vladyslav questions the foundational premise of the traditional hierarchy, namely, that what is deemed correct is also unequivocal. In doing so, Vladyslav legitimises himself as a speaker of non-standard Ukrainian, implicitly claiming authenticity by suggesting that variation exists even among language experts.

Ultimately, the traditional hierarchy is subject to deconstruction. Andrij explicitly rejects the very notion of ‘pure’ language because he sees no space within this hierarchy for new speakers like himself. This sense of exclusion is captured in his reference to the ‘intentional’ nature of linguistic idealisation. By this, he suggests that the hierarchy is deliberately constructed to marginalise and delegitimise speakers who do not conform to its narrow standards:

Andrij’s strategy for legitimising new Ukrainian speakers is not through negotiating the traditional hierarchy but through dismantling it entirely, via the rejection of the very notion of ‘pure’ Ukrainian. Whereas Vladyslav challenges the uniformity of the ‘expert’ opinion on language, while still acknowledging the existence of language professionals and the appropriateness of ‘pure’ language in certain contexts of use, Andrij goes further, denying the existence of linguistic purity altogether. Andrij argues that this ‘stereotype’ is precisely what excludes and discourages potential new speakers, as judgements rooted in correctness and idealisation tend to ‘repel’ rather than invite. In stating that such norms once ‘repelled us from the Ukrainian language’, Andrij explicitly aligns himself with the category of new speakers. His way of claiming ownership of Ukrainian is through a full deconstruction of a purity-based hierarchy, opening space for alternative, more inclusive forms of speakerhood.

Constructing alternative hierarchy within new speaker communities of practice

An alternative linguistic hierarchy is emerging within grassroots language courses and community clubs—spaces where the emphasis on speaking a ‘pure’ language is consciously mitigated. Previous research on these initiatives (Kudriavtseva Reference Kudriavtseva2025a,b) defines them as ‘safe spaces’—dedicated learning environments established by community efforts to support wider use of Ukrainian as an additional or heritage language. In these settings, the formal, prescriptive approach centred on rules and correctness is replaced by a strategy grounded in respect, encouragement, and interpersonal communication. Aware of language anxiety often felt by new speakers, volunteer instructors help them build confidence by working through feelings of shame and self-criticism. These linguistic safe spaces are particularly effective for Ukrainian new speakers, offering a supportive alternative to traditional school-based environments, which may have hindered their acquisition of Ukrainian through formal education (Kudriavtseva Reference Kudriavtseva2025a:22).

Within these grassroots learning spaces, an alternative linguistic hierarchy is taking shape, one that privileges fluency over formal correctness. Fluency is understood not as an error-free speech, but as “vpevnenist’ v sobi v tomu ščo ty hovoryš” ‘confidence in oneself, in what you say’, as described by Oleksandra, and as the ability to speak fluidly without translating from Russian, as Lina explains: “ne perekladaty podumky z rosijs’koji” ‘not to translate from Russian before saying something’. Vadym associates fluency with having a sufficient vocabulary to express one’s thoughts and experiences: “ščo ja počuvaju ščo ja baču pro ščo dumaju” ‘what I feel, what I see, what I think about’. Another valued marker of the ownership of Ukrainian within the alternative view is familiarity with Ukrainian literature and culture, which is often considered more meaningful than the knowledge of grammar and rules. In contrast to the school-based model, where ‘speaking correctly’ is framed as an obligation and an ultimate goal (Friedman Reference Friedman2010), new speakers engaged in the grassroots initiatives prioritise fluent expression, cultural engagement, and personal connection to the language.

In these clubs, learning is approached not through “suxe vtovkmačuvannja pravyl jak u školi a tvorčij pidxid” ‘dry hammering of rules into one’s brain, as it was at school, but a creative approach’, as described by Liza, who attended a United language club in Mykolajiv. Oksana, another participant in the same club, recalls that the moderator explicitly reassured learners that making mistakes was acceptable. Prior to joining the club, however, she describes being so self-critical while learning Ukrainian on her own that she would even ‘slap herself on the lips’ when she made a mistake. Oksana highlights the ‘great psychological support’ provided by the club moderator and refers to the language club as her “zona bezpeky” ‘safe zone’. She emphasises the ‘totally different approach’ to teaching Ukrainian developed there and notes that it significantly eased the learning process for her. Nadija, who attends a United club in Černihiv, echoes this sentiment, particularly appreciating the absence of pressure to speak a ‘pure’ form of the language.

For Nadija, the perceived ‘obligation’ to speak Ukrainian is closely tied to corrective feedback targeting her use of Russian. This suggests that the ‘obligation’, as she experiences it, reflects the imposition of the purist ideal, in which ‘speaking Ukrainian’ is equated with speaking correctly. Within this framework, her mixed Ukrainian-Russian speech would be classified as suržyk, a variety viewed as something to be corrected and eradicated at any cost. In contrast, the absence of purism in the grassroots language club fosters a sense of safety and inclusion. These feelings make up what Nadija refers to as a ‘totally different approach’ where what matters most is communication, rather than linguistic correctness.

Inclusion is fostered through the validation, and even elevation, of non-standard use, particularly suržyk. Maryna, a participant in the Free Ukrainian Language Courses club in Zaporižžja, recalls that at first many of her fellow learners felt anxious and uneasy. However, the moderator helped ease the psychological barrier by encouraging open discussions that legitimised non-standard forms: “my z pani Olenoju taki dyskusiji vely ya duže zaxyščala suržyk […] i meni podobajet’sja ščo my vyrišyly ščo ce hovirka xaj bude hovirka” ‘We discussed it with Ms. Olena [the moderator] and I strongly defended suržyk […] and I like that we agreed that it is a local dialect, let it be a local dialect’.

At a United club attended by Oleksandra in Xarkiv, the moderator explained in a similar way that suržyk was the local Slobožan dialect, something in which one could even take pride. Liza, another participant from Mykolajiv, remarks that a re-evaluation of suržyk made learning Ukrainian easier for her and even increased her motivation: “v universyteti kazaly ščo suržyk ce zasmičennja movy v simji raniše my tež tak vvažaly ale teper ja rozumiju ščo nixto nikoly ne vyvčyt’ movu ideal’no” ‘At university, they said that suržyk was a contaminated language. We used to think the same in our family. But now I understand that no one will ever learn the language perfectly’, she explains.

Vladyslav, a participant in the Let’s Speak Ukrainian language club in Kryvyj Rih, highlights his experience of communicating with people who, in his words, ‘consciously make mistakes’ as a way of approaching other people because speaking the ‘pure’ standard would be inappropriate with them: “v mene je dosvid koly ljudy dlja toho ščob zblyzytys’ zi svojimy druzjamy abo z tymy kolehamy vony svidomo robljat’ pomylky ščob buty takymy jak usi” ‘I’ve had experiences with people who, in order to get closer to their friends or colleagues, deliberately make mistakes to be like everyone else’, he explains. Through the re-evaluation of non-standard speech and re-branding of suržyk, new Ukrainian speakers are supported and allowed to legitimise themselves as bearers of a distinct, ‘dialect’-related identity. Moreover, in these grassroots settings, they are able to create their own communities of practice grounded in this shared identity perceived as authentic.

The ‘dialect’ is understood as a variety of Ukrainian, and in this way, the distinct identity it represents is an identity tied to the Ukrainian language. Against the wartime delegitimisation of Russian as the ‘enemy’s language’, dialects tend to be viewed more positively in public discourse, which enables new speakers to claim recognition and respect as users of a ‘unique variety’ of the Ukrainian language. Attributing non-standard language use to ‘everyone else’ further suggests that the use of the ‘dialect’ is perceived to extend beyond the boundaries of linguistic safe spaces and, therefore, is seen as socially widespread and ‘authentic’. The role of the grassroots language club moderators in this reconceptualisation is instrumental. Coming from individuals commonly viewed as language experts—those endowed with the highest linguistic authority under the traditional view—their validation plays a pivotal role in legitimising this emerging ‘local’ identity. The new speakers readily embrace the more inclusive vision of the Ukrainian language proficiency offered by the moderators, grounded not in conformity to purist norms, but in belonging and social participation.

Discussion and conclusion

In this study, the new speaker framework is employed to highlight tensions between different kinds of speakers, which arise out of a socially constructed linguistic hierarchy based on purity and correctness. This framework reveals how the issue of language ownership may become the site of contention, not only among ‘native’ and ‘non-native’ speakers, but also in contexts where authenticity is linked to those speaking the standard. This is the case of Ukraine, where due to the post-independence zeitgeist of abandoning Russian, ‘pure’ Standard Ukrainian has come to be seen as the only authentic and legitimate form of linguistic expression. Socialised in Ukraine’s education, this ideology marginalises speakers of non-standard and hybrid varieties of the Ukrainian language. In schools, this makes students either consent to this peripheral place or, alternatively, reimagine a multilingual community where their bilingual and hybrid practices can be valued (Friedman Reference Friedman2016). This study shows that, against the background of Russian aggression and war, traditional linguistic hierarchies are more often questioned and reimagined. Individuals, who convert to the predominant use of Ukrainian, construct an alternative vision of linguistic legitimacy developed around the notions of fluency and cultural engagement.

Framed against the post-independence discourse that portrays speaking Ukrainian as a marker of national identity, the events of 2014 reinforced the widespread view that choosing a language is not merely personal, but inherently political. The 2022 full-scale Russian invasion created a stronger impetus for Russian-speaking Ukrainians to convert to Ukrainian as an expression of national solidarity. More people as ever have started to claim their ownership of the Ukrainian language. These claims are supported by grassroots language-learning initiatives and community clubs, where traditional linguistic hierarchies, which idealise Standard Ukrainian, are negotiated and challenged. While some of the linguistic converts attempt to embed themselves in the traditional hierarchy by distancing from the non-standard and hybrid use, the majority negotiate their position in the traditional hierarchy by projecting non-standard use as a normal practice; still others deconstruct the traditional view and imagine an alternative hierarchy based on fluency as opposed to purity and correctness. Employing ‘new speakerness’ not as a label, but as a theoretical lens, this study makes an original contribution to the new speaker research by highlighting the context of war as another setting that produces new speakers, along with such contexts as migration and education.

The hierarchy prioritising fluency over correctness is already quite tangible and suggests a new ideology whereby to master Ukrainian well means to speak it fluently rather than ‘correctly’, even if language mixing occurs. The construction of the new hierarchy is enabled via a re-evaluation of the mixed variety suržyk. As a non-standard mixed use, suržyk has been traditionally perceived as a separate linguistic variety having nothing to do with either Ukrainian or Russian standards. Against the backdrop of Russian aggression and war, the Ukrainian-Russian mixed speech is elevated and believed to be better than the exclusive use of the Russian language—the re-evaluation provoked by the dissociation from Russian as the ‘language of the oppressor’ (Moore Reference Moore2023:1157). As a result of this dissociation, suržyk is reconceptualised as belonging to the Ukrainian language and constituting the initial stage on the way towards ‘pure’ Ukrainian. In the newly emerged hierarchy based on fluency, suržyk is altogether re-branded. It is no longer positioned as the lowest stage on the way up to ‘authenticity’, that is, the standard; rather suržyk is itself seen as ‘authentic’ as it is re-imagined as a ‘dialect’ spoken ‘by everyone’. I suggest that it is namely this ideology—which links mastery of Ukrainian to fluency, as opposed to correctness, and prevails among the linguistic converts that I interviewed—is the ideology that secures new speakers’ stability in their language transition and contributes to their decision to become full-time speakers of the Ukrainian language.

The positive ideology for the Ukrainian-Russian mixed use emerges within linguistic safe spaces arranged by grassroots language courses and clubs. This finding is also corroborated by the fact that traditionally negative attitudes towards polylanguaging still persist in other settings (Friedman Reference Friedman2023). Free Ukrainian Language Courses, United, and Let’s Speak Ukrainian provide those spaces where new speaker communities of practice arise, and additional domains of language use are created. These are spaces where new ideologies of language emerge, and new speaker identities are legitimated. As in cases of European minority languages, linguistic safe spaces are strategically important in order to increase the confidence of new Ukrainian speakers and encourage their linguistic conversion as these are environments where language can be used ‘without judgement or reproach’ (O’Rourke & Walsh Reference O’Rourke and Walsh2020:154). As Ariza (Reference Ariza2002:725) shows for majority languages, such as Spanish, informal conversation groups are important in the context of learning an additional language as they help participants to overcome their fear of making mistakes ‘in a non-threatening’ situation.

This finding also implies that new speaker identities can be legitimated by speakers who are traditionally perceived as ‘authentic’, that is, by language experts in the Ukrainian case. The traditional linguistic hierarchy placing speakers of standard language at the top is disrupted by the experts themselves, that is, by the club moderators, as they structure their interactions around equality in knowledge construction and inclusion of speakers with different language proficiency levels into the community of Ukrainian speakers. Rather than being focused on achieving an idealised standard and closely monitoring boundaries between the two tongues, the moderators allow new speakers ‘to shuttle between languages’ (Canagarajah Reference Canagarajah2011). These practices undermine the view of language as a bounded and homogeneous entity that underpins the traditional linguistic hierarchy based on the reified standard. What comes instead is the notion of language as fluid and overlapping, encapsulated in the ideology of translanguaging. This view of language allows new speakers to claim ownership of Ukrainian and deconstruct the traditional linguistic hierarchy based on purity and correctness. Under this ideological framework, it is not the mastery of an invented ‘pure and beautiful language’ that matters most, but new speakers’ investment and performance, that is, their ‘languaging’.

The emergence of the ideology legitimising translingual practice should be seen as related to the Russian aggression and war in Ukraine. It is not a coincidence that the informal learning spaces run by volunteer instructors have gained particular prominence after 2014—the onset of the Russian aggression. Wartime in Ukraine brings up the necessity for an inclusive, ‘civic’ conception of national identification. This conception is called forth by the need to mobilise the society in the struggle against the oppressor. Linked to the oppressor, the exclusive use of Russian is delegitimised, while the Ukrainian-Russian mixed use is elevated and legitimised as a ‘kind’ of the Ukrainian language.

The major question is whether this broad vision of Ukrainian identity and, respectively of the Ukrainian language, will persist after the war and if the traditional view of suržyk as a ‘threat’ to the standard (Taranenko Reference Taranenko2008) will remain outdated. More research will have to be done to trace the post-war trajectories of linguistic converts in Ukraine, motivated by resistance against the Russian war of aggression, to see if their ideologies change over time and find out if their transition is stable. This research is projected on a time frame following the end of the war. For now, the inclusive ideologies of language and identity are dominating.