How power of music , nostalgia, and culture bringing Russians and Ukrainian together in Scotland

Hi my names is Roman Macahins, I want to share a little story with you, one that’s been unfolding in the past year. It’s about bringing Russian and Ukrainian people together, a small experiment that grew into something bigger than I could have imagined.

In January 2024 I was invited to a house party to celebrate the Old New Year, which falls on January 14th according to the Gregorian calendar and is celebrated in some Eastern European countries. The gathering was a wonderful mix of people from various ex-Soviet countries, and at some point, someone decided to play some Russian music. I felt a bit uneasy because there were a few guests from Ukraine, and I wasn’t sure how they’d feel about it. To my surprise, they were the ones enjoying it the most, singing along and dancing.

In that moment I realized something, those of us who grew up in the early '90s all shared a similar cultural background. Despite our different nationalities, we had a lot in common. Russian, for us, was just a language—a bridge that connected us as a community allows us to communicate and understand each other, sharing same cultural knowledge, music, movies etc. That night, the only ones not enjoying the atmosphere were the neighbours. One knock at the door and we had to turn the music down, but the good mood was still there. The music and dancing took us back to our carefree younger days. It broke the ice, especially between the Russians and Ukrainians in the room, bringing everyone closer together. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I knew there was something profoundly right in that moment.

Eastern European event Edinburgh

That experience sparked an idea in me. In February 2024, I decided to hire a small function hall to host my first Eastern European event. The venue had a maximum capacity of about 60 people, and in just a few days, we were fully booked. I spent the rest of the week apologizing to those who couldn’t get in. I was nervous about bringing so many people from different backgrounds into one room, fearing what might happen if a political conversation sparked. I had planned everything down to the last detail, but I hadn’t realized that I had chosen the anniversary of the Ukrainian invasion as the date. It was too late to change it, and I worried it might send the wrong message. To my surprise again, it turned out to be an absolute success. Friends brought friends, and everyone had a great time. People mingled freely, and nationality seemed to matter a lot less than the chance to just enjoy life for a few hours, forgetting about everything else.

After that night, I still thought this would be a one-time thing. Then, one evening, I was at the bar ordering a drink when a group of Ukrainians surrounded me. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but they were all smiles. They told me how much they loved the event and how it was their best night since arriving in Scotland. I could see it in their eyes—they needed a place where they could escape from the weight of the world for a while, meet new people, and just feel all being normal again.

In the weeks that followed, my phone didn’t stop buzzing with messages asking when the next event would be. I couldn’t let these people down. With each new event, the crowd grew bigger, and I had to find larger venues to accommodate everyone. Which wasn’t easy, imagine the managers hearing that I’m planning to put lots of Russian and Ukrainians in the same place.

Now, we’re reaching nearly 200 guests, and we have people coming from all over Scotland. We have regulars driving down from Aberdeen and Inverness, a 4-5 hour journey, just to join us. I even organized minibuses from Glasgow so that people from the west coast could also enjoy the night. We have DJs keeping the dance floor busy, fun and spicy competitions with free drinks as prizes. We also have social media experts, photographers, and group interviews to capture these special moments. Our next step is to find a childminder so both parents can join us, at least for the early hours.

I grew up in Latvia, during a time when anti-Russian sentiment was at its peak. "Luggage, train, Moscow" was the phrase on everyone’s lips—a popular hit of those days. Now, I see this sentiment spreading to more countries, with Instagram profiles captioning “good Russian is a dead Russian.” I understand the anger and frustration of people who’ve had to leave their homes, fearing bombs could fall at any moment. But I don’t believe that every Russian is to blame. A person who’s been living in the UK for years, who never paid taxes in Russia—how could they be responsible for any of it?

Many people have stopped speaking Russian, often those who have just arrived in the UK and whose English is still quite basic. Not having other commune languages makes communication so hard. I remember seeing this in Latvia as a kid, where Russian was banned in many places. I understand its precaution nature against political propaganda. But a language is just a language—a tool that helps us communicate and understand each other. Nothing more, nothing less.

I often see people being cautious about joining our events. They come along because a of a convincing friend, or out of nostalgia for post-soviet times when borders were newly drawn, but still didn’t exist in people’s minds. I love that we can bring people back to that feeling—spending time together, dropping all stigmas, and just enjoying each other’s company. It’s beautiful to see Russians and Ukrainians, who at first feel awkward, relax as the night goes on, thanks to our competitions and group interviews and other activities. It fills me with joy when I hear they’ve organized grill parties or take children to park together afterwards.

I know it’s hard to break through the constant media noise about the conflict, but I see the value in showing a different prospective. Politics is one thing; people are another. The more people realize they aren’t enemies, the less likely for more conflict to spark, and by conflict I mean also smaller everyday unpleasant situations, arguments and offensive social media comments. My mother is half Ukrainian, half Russian, and I don’t want my son to choose sides because, when it comes to people, there are no sides.