The Word That Defines What It Means to Be Ukrainian Now

Two years ago, if I had been able to peer into the not-too-distant future, I wouldn’t have understood half of what Ukrainians are talking about. The events we describe—Russia’s full-scale invasion, horrific war crimes—would have seemed surreal, as well as the words we use. Expletives are suddenly more acceptable for use by news anchors and even government officials. Abstract terms have specific connotations, such as tryvoha (“anxiety” or “a sense of foreboding”), now shorthand for povitryana tryvoha, or “air raid alert.” “Tired of tryvoha? Why not go for a run?” a billboard ad for a gym reads, seemingly referring to both meanings.

As the Ukrainian language reflects the transformation of a society amid war, the old-fashioned adjective svidomy has changed too, becoming a marker of reinvigorated national identity. Svidomy, which means “aware” or “conscious of something,” traditionally conveys political self-awareness and an acceptance of responsibilities to the homeland. In the recent past it described more fervent patriots, implying an obsession with Ukraine’s past and its struggle against Russian imperialism. When Russia invaded Crimea in 2014, the model citizens fundraising for supplies for Ukraine’s army were called svidomy. Other Ukrainians treated the war as a misunderstanding with Russia. “I’m probably not svidomy enough,” they might admit. “But I’m just tired of politics.”

The word svidomy is of Old East Slavic origin. One of its first recorded usages is in the medieval epic The Tale of Igor’s Campaign, which gives an account of the raid Prince Igor Svyatoslavych attempted against neighboring nomads—and of his defeat and demise. The text describes Igor’s soldiers as “svidomy warriors,” which many modern translations interpret as meaning they were either very loyal to their leader’s cause or generally very motivated to win. For much of its history, svidomy carried a certain drama that made it sound more natural in eulogies or history books than everyday speech.

Since Feb. 24, 2022, Ukrainians across the political spectrum have embraced svidomy, imbuing it with meaning that is both sacred and colloquial. Calling someone a svidomy hromadianyn (“aware citizen”) is high praise, describing volunteers and activists tragically killed on the front lines. People use the term to self-identify on social media; it graces T-shirts worn as a show of defiance in the face of war. In today’s Ukraine, being svidomy still signals caring about the past, but history’s lessons are now self-evident: Ukrainians have long fought for survival and succeeded, despite the odds. Being svidomy is no longer just a character trait—it’s a requisite of the times.

Svidomy’s meaning has evolved over the decades. During the Soviet era, it referred to political dissidents or to those who identified as Ukrainian rather than Soviet. (Curiously, a bastardized version of the word exists in Russian: The derogatory term svidomity describes Ukrainians deemed aggressively patriotic.) In the early years of Ukrainian independence, the activists fighting the systemic corruption left in the wake of the turbulent 1990s were called svidomy. At that time, the descriptor was usually a compliment, if one that suggested someone was overly idealistic or radical. It might also be used sarcastically—say, if someone stubbornly insisted on speaking Ukrainian when surrounded by people who preferred Russian.

The word became more commonplace during the 2014 Revolution of Dignity. What started as a peaceful protest against then-Ukrainian President Viktor Yanukovych ditching a trade deal with the European Union in favor of closer ties with Russia turned into a nationwide movement, culminating in Yanukovych’s ouster. The words svidomy and svidomist (the state of being svidomy) appeared on protest placards and in slogans in Maidan Square and throughout Ukraine. The Revolution of Dignity started to blur the distinctions between activists across the political spectrum. It showed that in Ukraine, anarchists and radical leftists could find common ground with their right-wing counterparts if the situation called for it.

Yet in 2019, when down-to-earth, Russian-speaking comedian Volodymyr Zelensky defeated conservative Petro Poroshenko to take the Ukrainian presidency in a landslide, Poroshenko’s supporters began describing themselves as svidomy—in contrast to Zelensky voters, who they characterized as apolitical and not invested enough in Ukraine’s future. Poroshenko’s supporters questioned whether Zelensky and his team could stand up to Russian President Vladimir Putin if Putin escalated the conflict in eastern Ukraine. When asked about the issue at the time, Zelensky said he and Putin would “find a common ground” to reach peace.

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To Zelensky’s critics, such compromise not only would have been unpatriotic, but also would have proven that the new president hadn’t learned necessary lessons from Ukrainian history: that Russia’s attacks reflected its imperialist ambitions, and that it would see attempts at making peace as a sign of weakness.

Of course, last year, Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine that was supposed to last three days and end with Russian tanks leading a victory parade through Kyiv. Zelensky—along with Ukrainians from all backgrounds—turned out to be svidomy enough to stand up Putin’s army, even when much of the world thought they didn’t stand a fighting chance.

If the meaning of svidomy was up for discussion before, those arguments ceased on Feb. 24, 2022. Anyone who considered themselves Ukrainian enough to help their country amid peril—no matter whom they voted for—was svidomy. Even those with little emotional attachment to their homeland became defiantly Ukrainian when foreign soldiers were willing to shoot them in the back. It didn’t matter if someone called themself ethnically Russian, was the world’s biggest Dostoyevsky fan, or didn’t agree with the concept of nation-states.

People from across the political spectrum suddenly shared a higher goal and a set of values they were willing to work together to protect. Anarchists signed up for territorial defense units and volunteered for the Ukrainian army. Ardent Poroshenko supporters declared their support for Zelensky’s government. Political figures who had argued for decades seemed to put that behind them. Not all disagreements were resolved overnight, but full-scale war certainly fostered a feeling of mutual trust, of shared awareness.

Used in the past to mock those considered too radical, or to differentiate oneself from those deemed too careless, the word svidomy now signifies a specific Ukrainian unity. It shows what Ukrainians mean when we say that our homeland is a political state: If one considers themself part of the Ukrainian community, they cannot be insufficiently Ukrainian. Since the war began, any irony about being svidomy has vanished. After all, why would we joke about being aware of our identity when it puts us in the line of fire?