The Price of Eggs and the Power of Language Apps

As a reasonably-informed individual whose Useless Arts Degree concentrated heavily on state-to-state relations in the post-Soviet space, I can’t help but be struck by how closely, in the words of Timothy Synder, “Trump’s rhetoric about Canada uncannily echoes that of Russian propagandists towards Ukraine.” (Snyder, 2026, via Instagram) Like him I have to notice the similarly dismissive tone, the paternalisms, the bastardization of history, the dual treatment of neighbours as both weakened comrades in need of saving and bitter enemies in need of annihilation, and the facile dismissal of entire nation’s history and culture. The greatest difference between the two seems to be that Putin has someone more competent spell-checking his propaganda output. In both cases too, I am struck quite literally by the language of resistance of behalf of Ukrainians and Canadians alike. In the wake of the ramped-up trade war, use of the Canadian government sponsored French language app has skyrocketed (its kind of an older sibling at the playground syndrome – we’re allowed to chirp Quebec but you most certainly are not). Similarly use of the Russian language has declined dramatically across Ukraine since 2022, with Ukrainians boldly standing up for their language which Putin and his cronies dismisses a mere “dialect” of the superior Russian (and ironically creating the loss of the Russian language that has animated so much of Putin’s anti-Ukrainian rhetoric). Across the Atlantic, the people switching to Ukrainian or dusting off their high-school French are making the same statement in the face bullying from the likes of Trump and Putin - to quote Ontarian premier Doug Ford and the Defenders of Snake Island (never thought I’d putting those two in the same sentence) Russian warship go fuck yourself and Trump can kiss my large ass.

Now stick with me because on the surface this seems less related. In addition to being a post-Soviet historian, I am also Ukrainian by ancestry and every year at Easter my family celebrates by making pysanky – those incredibly intricate Easter eggs common across Eastern Europe that are traditionally made by alternating layers of dye and hot beeswax before burning it (and sometimes your fingers) off to reveal the design underneath. Last year, due to global events with which all are depressingly familiar, the price of eggs went up. Not as much as in some other places, granted, but they went up. And I couldn’t help but think about the strange threads that connect so many seemingly disparate forces across the globe. Such as the actions of men in power who drive up the prices of goods, who invade sovereign nations in search of a non-existent historical redemption, and who still will not stop my father and I sitting at a kitchen table in Canada to (howsoever poorly) continue a traditional craft that such men would consign to the same scrap heap as everything else deemed “little” or “lesser” Russian in their pursuit of imperial glory.

Слава Україні and elbows up.