Dear nation!
I address you today, in this snowy and cold February of 2026, feeling with every fiber of my soul the pulse of each of our Ukrainian fields, from the long-suffering Kherson region to the iron Zaporizhzhia, from the hardworking Mykolaiv region to the steppes of Donbas. You know, I always said: Ukrainian black soil is the holy communion of our history, the very blood and bone of our kin that grows into the future. And today, four years from the beginning of this great invasion, we see how the enemy continues to tear apart this flesh.
We stand on the peak of historical experience, where the parallels between February 1922 and the events of the last four years—from February 2022 to today—are drawn not just in ink, but with the unbreakable will of our people.
The first thing I want to emphasize is the eternal attempt of Moscow to uproot the roots of our self-sufficiency.
Look into the mirror of centuries. It was at the beginning of February 1922, during similar frosts, that the occupying Bolshevik horde began mass confiscation of bread. They understood: as long as a Ukrainian has his bread and his storehouse, he is invincible. Back then, more than 13.5 million poods of grain were taken from the southern provinces—primarily Odesa and Zaporizhzhia. That’s 220,000 tons of Ukrainian life! That February one hundred years ago, wagons with our grain were driven north under gun barrels, while the Ukrainian mother had nothing to feed her child.
And now look at these four years that have passed since that dark February 24, 2022. The same sacrilege, but on a scale that shakes the world! During this time—from 2022 to today, February 2026—the occupier has stolen more than 17 million tons of our grain from our granaries.
Consider the cynicism of today:
For years they have been robbing the ports of Berdyansk and Mariupol, exporting what our farmers sowed under the fire of “Grads.” They have developed an entire industry of lies, mixing our sacred grain with their filth, to sell it to the world as their own. They destroy our silos with missiles when they cannot steal, because their logic has not changed in a hundred years: “If it’s not mine, then let it burn.”
This is the same eternal, undying treachery.
Back then, in 1922, they spoke of a “world revolution.” Today they talk about “defending territories.” But how can this be your land when you have mined every meter of it? Can a master mine his own field as they have mined thousands of hectares of our Ukrainian land? This is the psychology of a marauder who knows his time is ending.
But I will tell you as someone who believes in the power of the Ukrainian spirit: the bread stolen in February 1922 was the beginning of the end of their first empire. The bread stolen from February 2022 to today will become the final verdict for their current regime.
We stand firm. We count every grain. And in this February of 2026, I believe more than ever: we will return to Skadovsk, Henichesk, and Melitopol. We will sow these steppes again with free grain. Because the Ukrainian sun shines only for those who love this land, not for those who plunder it.
Hold on, my dear ones. We are a nation of farmers, we are masters of our sky and our field. And the truth always defeats the invader.
Glory to Ukraine!
