There are things that cannot be destroyed by missiles. Cannot be burned by Shaheds. Cannot be banned by decrees, erased by propaganda, or rewritten in Moscow history textbooks.
That is our language.
Today, Ukrainians are once again picking up pens, opening notebooks, and writing in Ukrainian. Some at school, some at university, some in the office, and others in military units between combat missions.
And you know what is most interesting? For us, it is just a regular dictation. But for Russian propaganda, it is another reason to get nervous.
Because while Russia spends billions on attempts to destroy Ukrainian identity, Ukrainians simply sit down and write in their native language.
Without Moscow’s permission. Without translation into Russian. And without the slightest desire to explain to anyone why we have the right to be ourselves.
Now imagine the scene: somewhere in the Kremlin, a serious man sits, looks at thousands of Ukrainians with pens, and thinks: “We have been saying for so many years that the Ukrainian language does not exist. And they are writing dictations in it!”
Such is the geopolitical catastrophe for imperial thinking.
Who organizes it and why it is more than a dictation
This year, on October 27, 2026, the 27th Radio Dictation of National Unity is taking place. It was founded by the team of Ukrainske Radio in 2000, and today it is organized by Suspilne Movlennia.
The author of the text “A Letter That Never Ends” is a writer and veteran of the Russian-Ukrainian war, Artur Dron. It is read by teacher Artur Proydakov and singer and volunteer Dasha Astafieva. It starts at 11:00 AM.
The event is joined by schoolchildren, students, teachers, military personnel, civil servants, employees of institutions, volunteers, and Ukrainian communities abroad. Joint writing sessions are organized by libraries, educational institutions, and local government bodies, among others.
And there is one fundamental detail here.
Russia has spent years trying to convince the world that the Ukrainian language is something secondary, artificial, and unnecessary. But the result was the opposite.
Books are written, music is created, children are taught, combat orders are given, communication takes place at the front, and the state is represented in the world in Ukrainian.
And the funniest thing for Kremlin ideologues is that the Ukrainian language does not need to be imposed by tanks. People choose to speak it themselves.
I can imagine how Russian propagandists try to explain another Ukrainian dictation.
— What are the Ukrainians doing there?
— Writing.
— What are they writing?
— In Ukrainian.
— How many of them?
— All over the world.
— Can we ban this?
— No.
— Then urgently convene the Security Council!
Of course, this is a joke. But it clearly explains the absurdity of Russian policy towards Ukraine.
You can occupy a school building. You can destroy a library. You can burn Ukrainian books. But you cannot force an entire nation to forget who it is.
And that is exactly why today’s Radio Dictation is not a competition for a grade.
Someone will write without errors. Someone will forget a comma. Someone will confuse an apostrophe. And someone will sit down for a dictation for the first time in many years.
And that is beautiful.
Because our strength is not in the fact that we all know grammar perfectly. Our strength is in the fact that we want to know our language, protect it, and pass it on to future generations.
The Ukrainian language is not just a means of communication. It is the voice of a people that Russia has tried to silence for centuries, but never could. So write, friends. Speak Ukrainian. Read Ukrainian works. Teach your children.
And tell the Russians: we are having a dictation today. And if it makes you burn with anger again, that is no longer a problem of Ukrainian spelling, but of your imperial psychiatry.
We write in Ukrainian. And we write the history of our state ourselves. And we do not need any Moscow red pen to correct our mistakes.
Author: Ivan Arefiev
Collage: Andriy Atlantov
Illustrative photo: President Of Ukraine / CC0
