What’s the Difference?’: A Convenient Shortcut to Unfreedom

Source: Author’s Facebook page

“What’s the difference?” is not just a household phrase in the Soviet kitchen. It’s an entire political philosophy disguised as fatigue, pragmatism, and “normality.”

At first glance, it sounds peaceful: what difference does it make what language to speak, what church to have, what history to remember, what monuments stand in cities, who controls television, what books children read, what the streets are called, or where “culture” comes from? But in reality, this phrase almost always works in one direction: it does not protect freedom of choice but disarms Ukrainian subjectivity.

An empire always begins not with a tank, but with the blurring of differences. First, they say Ukrainian and Russian are “one and the same.” Then Ukrainian history is “common,” and the Ukrainian language is called “Russian.” Next, the Ukrainian church is “part of a great tradition.” Then, the Ukrainian state is “a mistake of politicians.” And at the end, a Russian soldier comes and says, “You don’t exist at all.” Therefore, the question “what’s the difference?” in a colonial context is not innocent. It is a preparation for genocide…

“What a difference” is the psychology of a person who has been taught for a long time not to be a citizen. In the empire and the USSR, it was safer to be silent, to adapt, not to stand out, not to remember unnecessary things, to not speak the “wrong” language, and not to have your own opinion about the state. Power was not yours; history was dangerous; initiative was punished; and survival was the main art. Thus, a type of person was formed for whom freedom seemed like an unnecessary risk, and one’s own state was an abstraction that prevented one from “simply living.”

Therefore, “what difference does it make” often looks like common sense. It says, “Don’t quarrel over language; don’t touch the past; don’t irritate Russia; don’t make sudden moves; negotiate, and be simpler.” But this is not common sense; it is post-imperial inertia. Because for people who have been trying to dissolve for centuries, language is not a trifle. Memory is not a decoration. The army is not a political slogan. Church, culture, school, toponymy, and media are not “symbols for fanatics” but the infrastructure of existence.

The most insidious thing about this formula is that it confuses neutrality with wisdom. A person says, “I am outside politics.” But in wartime, “outside politics” often means “I do not want to take responsibility.” She says, “I do not care what language.” But for some reason, this “does not care” almost always ends with Russian dominance. She says, “We should not divide people.” But for some reason she does not want to see that the empire has already divided us into those who have the right to exist and those who can be “re-educated,” deported, broken, or killed.

“What a difference”—often it is fear, fatigue, ignorance, trauma, poverty, television thinking, or distrust of the state of a small person in an empire, a mankurt. Not every person with this phrase in their head is an enemy, but it is dangerous for the Ukrainian Republic because it opens the door to the enemy. It makes society soft where it should be hard. It turns citizens into a population. And a population is always easier to occupy than a political nation.

Therefore, the answer to “what is the difference?” should be unambiguous: there is a difference. There is a difference between the Ukrainian state and the Russian Empire. Between a citizen and a subject. Between the language of freedom and the language of coercion. Between memory and amnesia. Between Bucha and Kyiv. Between Mariupol, which was destroyed, and a city that can still defend itself. Between “if only there were no war” and the ability to understand that war is coming precisely when they have long pretended that there is no difference.

The Ukrainian political nation should not be built on blood, origin, or home language. But it should be built on loyalty, responsibility, and understanding of boundaries. One can have a complex biography, a Russian-speaking childhood, Soviet parents, and a mixed identity and be Ukrainian by choice. But one cannot simultaneously enjoy Ukrainian freedom and despise the very basis of this freedom.

We have post-Soviet paternalists, a significant layer of them, by my estimate, about a third of the population; not all of them are traitors, but people with the political psychology of a subject. They want a salary, a tariff, peace, and stability “so that they don’t touch” and “so that they can come to an agreement.” Their main defect is their unwillingness to pay the price for their own state and its development! In fact, they became Zelensky’s main voters.

“What’s the difference?” is the first phrase of capitulation. The Ukrainian’s answer is as simple as a door: there is a difference! And it is precisely because of this difference that the war continues.

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