Ukrainian Refugees’ Stances Towards Russian-Language Interpretation Services in Finland: Language, Identity and Emotion in Exile

3.1 Survey design and sampling

The data for this study derive from an anonymous online survey distributed amongst Ukrainians living or temporarily staying in Finland. The survey was conducted between November 2022 and January 2023; we gathered 1,615 responses through convenience and snowball sampling, mainly via social media channels. The survey covered topics related to native language, current language use and language attitudes, and it included sociolinguistic background information. The respondents had the opportunity to provide both multiple‑choice and open‑ended answers to most of the questions in any language they chose.

Most of the respondents were born in central Ukraine (35%), eastern Ukraine (27%) and southern Ukraine (17%) – the areas of Ukraine that were under Russian occupation or close to the active war zone at the time the survey was created. When answering the question about their mother tongue(s), the respondents were able to choose one or more options from the following: Ukrainian (chosen by 92%), Russian (37%), Finnish (8 respondents) or another language (23 respondents). Both Ukrainian and Russian were chosen as mother languages by 29% of the respondents. In the survey, 96.3% of the respondents (1,556 out of 1,615) responded to the question regarding the domains of the Ukrainian language (Kapranov, Frick and Hippi 2025).

Interpretation and translation services were not asked about. The data for the current study were drawn from the last open‑ended question in the survey: Ви хочете розповісти нам щось більше про використання мови або ситуації з використанням мови у Фінляндії? (‘Do you want to tell us something more about language use or about situations related to language use in Finland?’). We find that the data are well suited for a discourse‑analytic study because the answers to open questions are relatively long and the same themes are repeated. Compared with an interview format, a questionnaire can elicit more honest responses because there is no interviewer effect. Amongst the responses to this question, we found 57 that mentioned interpretation services or interpreters. All the quoted examples have been translated into English by the authors for consistency and accessibility.

3.2 Qualitative content analysis

The first stage of analysis involved an inductive, data‑driven qualitative content analysis (Schreier 2012) aimed at identifying recurring themes in the responses. This method allowed for the systematic categorisation of meaning units, with an emphasis on the participants’ linguistic expressions and subjective experiences. The inductive approach meant that analysis progressed from specific observations (individual responses) towards broader generalisations (thematic groups), following Tuomi and Sarajärvi’s framework (2018). The preliminary coding process resulted in the identification of four major thematic groups, which were later refined and validated through repeated collaborative discussions amongst the three authors. This thematic stage provided the basis for a deeper examination of discourses and stances, which were further explored through discourse analysis and lexico‑semantic analysis.

3.3 Discourse analysis

The second analytical layer employed principles of critical discourse analysis (Fairclough 1989; 2010), which allowed us to examine how linguistic choices in the data construct, reflect and reproduce social meanings. Following Englebretson (2007), we define discourse as language in use, embedded in context and ideologically charged. Rather than applying critical discourse analysis as a fixed methodology, we approached it as a flexible theoretical framework (Jokinen, Juhila & Suoninen 2017) that allows for a nuanced interpretation of meaning. We were particularly interested in how the respondents constructed discourses in relation to Russian‑ and Ukrainian‑language interpreting services. Discourse in this context is not descriptive but constitutive because it performs social work, revealing ideological positions and power relations embedded in language use (cf. Halliday 2003).

3.4 Lexico‑semantic analysis

In parallel with the discourse analysis, we conducted a detailed lexico‑semantic analysis of key grammatical categories – particularly verbs, adverbs, adjectives and nouns – to track how evaluative meanings and emotional tones are linguistically formulated, reflecting the respondents’ stancetaking. These parts of speech were analysed for their frequency, co‑occurrence and contextual functions, e.g.: (a) nouns like проблема (‘problem’) marked critical discourse anchors, (b) adjectives like російськомовні (‘Russian‑speaking’) contextualised the object of the stance, (c) adverbs like на жаль (‘unfortunately’) introduced evaluative judgements and (d) verbs like дратує (‘annoys’) indexed an affective stance. Not all lexical items were analytically significant; decisions about relevance were made through triangulated judgement amongst the three authors, ensuring interpretive reliability.

4.1 Language preferences

As Kulyk (2024) observed, the full‑scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 has led to significant changes in language use and language preferences amongst Ukrainians. This broader sociolinguistic transformation is also reflected in the responses of Ukrainian refugees and war migrants residing in Finland. The words analysed for the discourses they activate, and the stances they reflect, are shown in bold in the examples. Example 1 illustrates one of the most frequently occurring expressions in the data: the desire for more Ukrainian‑speaking interpreters:

Example 1 represents a direct and agentive articulation of language preference that activates what we call the desire discourse. The respondent employs the first‑person singular verb хочу (‘I want’) in the present indicative, as well as first‑person pronouns я and мені, signalling an unambiguous and personal stance towards the linguistic conditions of interpretation services in Finland. The writer takes a deontic stance, implicating the right to an interpreter in the language of their choice.

Grammatically, the phrase щоб мені більше пропонували (‘to be offered more’) is a subordinate clause expressing a desired future action, embedded in a modal construction. The verb пропонували (‘offered’) is in the imperfective past subjunctive, indicating a hypothetical but hoped‑for course of events, while більше (‘more’) indexes quantitative insufficiency. The phrase україномовних перекладачів (‘Ukrainian‑speaking interpreters’) serves as the syntactical object and the object of desire and symbolic preference. The explicit naming of the preferred interpreter language reflects an ideological positioning that aligns with post‑invasion sociolinguistic transformations in Ukraine (cf. Kulyk 2024).

The desire discourse, in our typology, is activated through expressions of hope, want or normative expectations regarding language use in institutional settings. The utterance also contributes to constructing a normative vision of what interpreting services in Finland should look like from the standpoint of displaced Ukrainians. It reveals an emerging language ideology (see, e.g. Kudriavtseva 2025) in which Ukrainian is not only the preferred language but also the rightful medium for institutional communication in exile. Example 2 represents a direct and normative articulation of language preference and expresses a strong ideological stance regarding both the language and the ethnolinguistic identity of interpreters:

The response is marked by a high degree of explicitness, assertiveness and an appeal to institutional responsibility. The utterance opens with the verb прошу (‘I ask’), a performative directive commonly used in Ukrainian formal and semi‑formal requests. The structure надавати українцям інформацію українською, а не російською (‘provide information to Ukrainians in Ukrainian, not Russian’) creates a binary linguistic opposition that is both evaluative and ideological. Ukrainian is framed as the appropriate, rightful language, while Russian is explicitly rejected. This reflects a shift in symbolic value after the 2022 war, where language becomes a vehicle for alignment with national belonging (cf. Kulyk 2024).

The latter part of the response, Перекладачів не росіян і не російською (‘Interpreters not Russians nor in Russian’), reinforces this boundary by introducing not only a preference for language but also the ethnic or national identity of interpreters. The exclusion of росіян (‘Russians’) and російською (‘Russian‑speaking’) suggests that the speaker’s stance goes beyond communicative function and into the realm of affective and political identity. The desire discourse is activated through the imperative прошу (‘I ask’), which signals a normative vision of language policy. Sociolinguistically, the utterance is significant because it marks a boundary‑making act: the speaker distinguishes ‘us’ (Ukrainians) from ‘them’ (Russians / Russian‑speaking interpreters).

Taken together, the examples in this subsection demonstrate how the participants discursively construct language preference as a broader ideological and normative claim. Through grammatically agentive forms (e.g. я хочу [‘I want’]) and directive imperatives (e.g. прошу [‘I ask’]), the respondents activate the desire discourse to articulate alignment with Ukrainian language use. The desire discourse thus foregrounds Ukrainian as a language of exile dignity and post‑invasion solidarity, embedded in both emotional stance and deontic positioning.

4.2 Institutional neglect and misunderstandings

Some respondents located their language experience in concrete places, usually reception centres but also other official settings. Officials’ indifference to the interpreter’s language is a repetitive motive in the responses. The respondents’ experiences vary from stating that officials did not find a Ukrainian‑speaking interpreter to stating that officials did not invite a Ukrainian‑speaking interpreter or offer a Russian‑speaking interpreter. In Example 3, the speaker delivers a strongly worded expression of dissatisfaction with the linguistic and ethnic profiles of interpreters encountered in official contexts:

The utterance is evaluative throughout. It functions as a direct stancetaking act aimed at institutional practices perceived as misaligned with the speaker’s values and expectations. The construction begins with a nominal clause – Проблема з перекладачами (‘The problem with interpreters’) – which immediately frames the topic in negative terms and activates what we call the Dissatisfaction discourse. The following two independent clauses – вони російськомовні (‘they are Russian‑speaking’) and це дуже погано (‘it is very bad’) – are paratactically linked; each functions as a predicate, making evaluative judgements. The final clause вони росіяни (‘They are Russians’) reiterates the speaker’s dissatisfaction, shifting from language to perceived ethnicity or national origin.

Lexically, the utterance is marked by evaluative and emotionally loaded vocabulary. The key negative predicate, це дуже погано (‘it is very bad’), explicitly signals strong disapproval, intensified by the adverb дуже (‘very’). The compound nouns російськомовні (‘Russian‑speaking’) and росіяни (‘Russians’) are not neutral descriptors here; in the post‑2022 context, they often index not just linguistic or national affiliation but also carry political and ideological connotations. The choice of words thus reveals an evaluative stance that transcends surface description and encodes misalignment with institutional language policy. The label проблема (‘problem’) acts as a discourse trigger, positioning the entire message within a frame of complaint and critique. The use of two identity categories – language (російськомовні ‘Russian‑speaking’) and nationality (росіяни ‘Russians’) – serves to intensify the speaker’s negative stance, creating a dual‑layered argument: dissatisfaction with the linguistic code of interpretation and the nationality of the interpreter.

Example 4 captures a respondent’s explicit expression of dissatisfaction with institutional language practices in the context of the Finnish Immigration Service (Migri):

The utterance illustrates how individual language preferences are often not only unmet but systematically disregarded, despite the presence of viable alternatives. The sentence opens with a habitual statement: Часто у Мігрі замовляють російськомовного перекладача (‘Often at Migri, they request a Russian‑speaking interpreter’). The verb замовляють (‘request’) is used in the impersonal, third‑person plural, distancing agency and suggesting a recurring institutional pattern. The concessive clause хоча є доступний україномовний (‘although a Ukrainian‑speaking interpreter is available’) introduces contrast and foregrounds the lack of responsiveness to the speaker’s linguistic preference. The use of the first‑person verb прошу (‘I request’) signals active personal engagement, while the passive construction Мої прохання ігнорують (‘My requests are ignored’) conveys frustration and helplessness, highlighting institutional indifference. The adjectives російськомовний (‘Russian‑speaking’) and україномовний (‘Ukrainian‑speaking’) are central to the speaker’s linguistic identity claims. The use of доступний (‘available’) indicates that an alternative exists and is being knowingly overlooked. The verb ігнорують (‘ignore’) is emotionally and evaluatively loaded; in the context of a passive structure, it underscores institutional negligence rather than logistical limitations. The repetition of україномовного (‘Ukrainian‑speaking’) reinforces the speaker’s preferred language and foregrounds the discrepancy between availability and institutional choice.

The speaker positions herself as an active agent within a system that fails to acknowledge her rights and preferences. This is achieved through the repeated contrast between individual action, я прошу (‘I request’), and the institutional response, ігнорують (‘ignore’). Example 4 shows how the language of service provision functions as a site of symbolic power. In the context of forced migration from Ukraine post‑2022, such experiences acquire heightened salience, language becomes a proxy for affiliation, recognition and respect.

The examples in this subsection illustrate how the respondents’ dissatisfaction with interpreter‑mediated encounters is grounded both on unmet expectations and on perceived institutional neglect and symbolic disregard. The dissatisfaction discourse is activated through lexical markers such as проблема (‘problem’), на жаль (‘unfortunately’) and ігнорують (‘ignore’), as well as through contrastive grammatical structures that juxtapose personal initiative (e.g. я прошу [‘I request’]) with systemic inaction. The respondents do not simply express frustration over the language mismatch; they problematise the ethnolinguistic identity of interpreters, particularly when they are described as росіяни (‘Russians’) or російськомовні (‘Russian‑speaking’) and incompatible with the political and emotional realities of exile.

4.3 Practical challenges and language access

Statements that activate the availability discourse draw attention to the scarcity, unavailability or absence of Ukrainian‑speaking interpreters. The discourse is only present in statements that refer to Ukrainian interpreters or Ukrainian‑speaking interpreters, not in those that refer to Russian‑speaking interpreters. In Example 5, the speaker draws attention to the absence of Ukrainian–Finnish interpreting services:

This reflects not only a practical service gap but also broader issues of institutional neglect and linguistic exclusion within the host country’s public infrastructure. The sentence is grammatically structured as a complex clause with the main clause, Шкода (‘It is a pity’), and a subordinate content clause, що нема перекладачів (‘that there are no interpreters’). The word шкода (‘pity’) functions as a stancemarker with an evaluative–emotional function, conveying disappointment or regret. The clause нема перекладачів з української на фінську (‘there are no interpreters from Ukrainian to Finnish’) delivers the core informational content and semantically encodes scarcity. The prepositional phrase з української на фінську (‘from Ukrainian to Finnish’) makes the language direction explicit, underlining a critical gap in service provision that often remains obscured in general references to перекладачі (‘interpreters’).

The utterance activates the availability discourse through two key lexical markers: the adverbial–evaluative predicate шкода (‘pity’), which expresses an emotional stance (cf. Du Bois 2007; Mackenzie & Alba‑Juez 2019), and the negation нема (‘there are no’), which directly indexes an absence or lack, a central feature of an availability discourse (Fairclough 2010; Schreier 2012).

Example 6 foregrounds the pragmatic consequences of interpreter shortages for Ukrainian speakers in Finland:

This response frames the challenge through a lens of structural inadequacy and constrained choice. Example 6 consists of two declarative clauses. The first sentence introduces the speaker’s stance using the adverb на жаль (‘unfortunately’), a marker of emotional evaluation, combined with the quantifier дуже мало (‘very few’), indicating scarcity. The relative clause які знають українську (‘who know Ukrainian’) narrows the focus to interpreters with specific linguistic competence. The second sentence, Здебільшого доводиться користуватися російською (‘so one usually has to use Russian’), employs the impersonal modal construction доводиться (‘has to’ + infinitive), which encodes obligation and the lack of alternatives. The utterance centres on three key markers: дуже мало (‘very few’) signals systemic insufficiency; доводиться (‘has to’) encodes forced or involuntary reliance; and користуватися російською (‘to use Russian’) names the alternative language explicitly, establishing a contrast without direct condemnation.

In contrast with more emotional or confrontational examples, Example 6 frames Russian as a necessary fallback rather than as an ideologically objectionable choice. The response reflects a lived reality where language hierarchies persist through resource allocation. Ukrainian, though central to the refugees’ national identity, remains marginalised in institutional infrastructure.

The examples discussed in this subsection illustrate how respondents invoke the availability discourse to highlight the structural scarcity of Ukrainian‑language interpretation services in Finland. Lexical choices – such as шкода (‘pity’), нема (‘there are no’), дуже мало (‘very few’) and доводиться (‘has to’) – convey a sense of resigned necessity, emphasising how Ukrainian speakers are institutionally nudged into default reliance on Russian. This discourse differs from others by its pragmatic orientation; it does not frame Russian as politically charged but rather as a fallback in a context where Ukrainian remains under‑resourced.

4.4 Emotional impact

In the data, people talk about how language use affects them. The Emotion discourse is activated when respondents take an affective stance vis‑à‑vis language use. As respondents position themselves on an affective scale, they can present both negative attitudes (Example 7) or positive attitudes (Example 8).

Example 7 conveys a strong personal emotional response to both institutional practices and interpersonal language choices in the host society:

Although the survey does not explicitly ask whether the interpreter is Russian or Russian‑speaking, the speaker expresses frustration and sadness regarding the recurrence of Russian as a default language in communicative encounters, both in formal interpretation and the informal use of digital translation tools.

The utterance consists of two coordinated complex sentences, each beginning with the impersonal construction Мене засмучує (‘I am upset’), followed by a subordinate clause specifying the source of emotional discomfort. The first clause, що інколи доводиться спілкуватися з перекладачами росіянами (‘that I sometimes have to communicate with Russian interpreters’), employs the modal impersonal construction доводиться (‘have to’ + infinitive), a marker of constrained agency or lack of choice. For this respondent, there seems to be no difference between Russian interpreters and Russian‑speaking interpreters. The second clause extends the affective charge to interpersonal behaviour, що деякі фіни … обирають російську мову (‘that some Finns choose Russian’). The concessive adverbial навіть користуючись перекладачем в телефоні (‘even when using a phone translator’) adds emphasis, indicating that Ukrainian was a possible, but neglected, option. Example 7 activates the emotion discourse through affective stancemarkers (cf. Keisanen & Kärkkäinen 2014: 297): засмучує (‘upset’) is repeated twice, anchoring the entire utterance in subjective emotional evaluation; a lexical emphasis on imposition, доводиться (‘have to’), implies external necessity; and обирають … не українську (‘choose … instead of Ukrainian’) constructs a contrastive framing of language preference. Example 7 reflects how linguistic practices, such as the use of Russian by interpreters or by Finns using translation apps, can evoke emotional responses rooted in historical trauma, war‑related displacement and identity politics.

Example 8 illustrates a relatively rare but meaningful instance of a positive affective stance in the dataset:

Within the thematic group of emotional impact, this quote expresses emotional relief and satisfaction, in contrast with the more typical frustration and disappointment voiced in other responses.

The phrase було дуже приємно (‘it was very pleasing’) is grammatically an impersonal construction in the past indicative tense, expressing a positive evaluative emotion without explicitly naming the experiencer. The adverb дуже приємно (‘very pleasant’) functions as a stancemarker, signalling emotional approval. Importantly, the second clause – хоча спершу сказали, що то дуже важко і є тільки російськомовні (‘although initially it was said that it would be very difficult and that only Russian‑speaking interpreters were available’) – introduces a contrastive frame, heightening the speaker’s appreciation by referencing the initial institutional resistance or unavailability. From a discourse‑analytic perspective, this is an instance where the emotion discourse is activated, characterised by positivity. While most of the emotion‑laden utterances in the corpus involve dissatisfaction or frustration, this response shows that successful access to language‑appropriate services can evoke strong affective responses. In other words, the satisfaction does not arise from a normalised experience but from an unexpected exception to a problematic norm. This example affirms the symbolic importance of Ukrainian language provision. The positive emotion is tied to linguistic recognition, cultural inclusion and the dignity of being addressed in one’s preferred language.

The examples in this subsection reveal how affective stancetaking is central to the respondents’ evaluations of interpreter‑mediated encounters, especially when Russian‑language services are involved. The emotion discourse is activated through emotionally loaded verbs (e.g. засмучує [‘upsets’], було приємно [‘it was pleasing’]) which collectively express frustration, sadness, helplessness or relief. What distinguishes this discourse is its focus not merely on language availability or institutional mismatch but also on the emotional consequences of being heard – or ignored – through the ‘wrong’ language. These moments are experienced as ideologically and emotionally charged. Conversely, the rare expression of positive emotion in response to receiving Ukrainian‑language services highlights how deeply meaningful such recognition is. Emotion, in this context, is constitutive – it shapes the lived experience of exile and mediates the symbolic value of linguistic encounters.