When displacement meets vision, and community becomes the answer
A post appeared recently in the Facebook group Ukrainian Canadians | Українці Канади that stopped me mid-scroll https://www.facebook.com/groups/canadaua/permalink/3293229447515054 . It wasn’t the polished pitch of a developer or the fundraising appeal of an established organization. It was something rawer: a displaced Ukrainian dreaming out loud about building a new home
Someone who used the nickname Олесь Бойко, invited fellow Ukrainians to consider creating an eco-settlement in Atlantic Canada. The vision: a community centered on preserving Ukrainian language and culture, ecological living, mutual support, and shared projects. Simple words. Profound longing.
The response was extraordinary. Over 150 comments poured in within days—from engineers in Alberta, psychologists in Winnipeg, beekeepers considering relocation, builders ready to construct from foundation to finish. People currently scattered across Manitoba, Quebec, Ontario, Saskatchewan, and even Denmark, Germany, and the United States raised their hands. Some offered caution. Others offered skills. Many offered hope.
What Made This Post Resonate
Timing and emotional truth. Олесь mentions losing his home in Ukraine and spending three years developing this idea since arriving in Canada. That biographical detail transforms the post from abstract proposal to lived necessity. When someone writes “I have been working on this for three years, since I lost my home,” you’re not reading marketing copy. You’re witnessing someone processing displacement through action.
Clear values, simply stated. Four pillars: language and culture preservation, ecological lifestyle, mutual support, and collaborative economy. No jargon. No complicated frameworks. Just the fundamental human needs that war and displacement have made urgent: Who are we? How do we live? Who has our back? What do we build together?
An invitation to participate. The mini-survey format—three simple questions about interest in relocation, attraction to the eco-settlement concept, and personal circumstances—lowered barriers to engagement. People didn’t need to commit. They just needed to say “this speaks to me.”
Organic community asset mapping. Within the comment thread, a remarkable inventory emerged. Builders who have constructed homes “from zero to turnkey.” A chef-researcher specializing in Ukrainian cuisine and open-fire cooking. Psychologists. Physiotherapists. Engineers with expertise in green energy and heat pumps. Beekeepers. Greenhouse operators. People with direct experience building eco-houses in Ukraine before the war. The skills for a functioning community exist, scattered across a diaspora, waiting to be gathered.
The Shadows in the Vision
Not everyone was enchanted. Several commenters raised flags that deserve serious attention.
Credibility questions. Multiple users noted that the posting account appeared newly created, used heavy emoji, and responded in what some described as “AI-like” patterns. One commenter directly accused the post of being artificial intelligence rather than a human organizer. Whether accurate or unfair, these concerns undermined trust and raised questions about who stands behind the vision.
Absence of concrete plans. While Олесь claims to have “a clear plan,” the post offers no specifics on financing, legal structure, governance, timeline, or land acquisition strategy. Experienced commenters asked pointed questions: Who controls the project? How will disputes be resolved? What’s the business model? How much investment would each family need to contribute? The answers didn’t materialize in the thread.
Underestimating complexity. One commenter noted the irony: “This sounds so impossibly beautiful, like a utopia. It suggests either young age or a romantic-adventurous character.” Another pointed out that building anything in Canada requires navigating permits, zoning, infrastructure planning, and building codes—processes that require not just enthusiasm but legal expertise and capital.
Historical amnesia. Some offered wise counsel: visit the Ukrainian settlements in Saskatchewan that were organized over 100 years ago. Learn from those who came before. The first wave of Ukrainian immigrants to the Canadian prairies also dreamed of preserving culture through community—and faced a government minister who denied them the right to run their own schools in Ukrainian. History has lessons for those willing to study it.
The psychology of groups. Several commenters raised perhaps the most fundamental challenge: “Don’t forget that people are people with ambitions, emotions, jealousy, grievances, and more.” Another was more blunt: “Expect jealousy, envy, meanness, extortion, gossip. Everything characteristic of Ukrainian society. You’ll devour each other there just like in Ukraine.” Harsh, perhaps. But intentional communities worldwide struggle with interpersonal conflict. Ukrainian history, marked by the proverb “where there are two Ukrainians, there are three hetmans,” carries particular cautions.
Where Could This Take Root?
The Atlantic provinces each offer distinct possibilities and constraints:
| Province | Advantages | Challenges |
| Prince Edward Island | Excellent agricultural land (famous for potatoes), existing Ukrainian community, manageable scale, strong community identity | Limited job market, seasonal economy, housing pressure from tourism |
| New Brunswick | Strong agricultural tradition (potatoes, vegetables, livestock), affordable land, bilingual environment, lower cost of living | Lower wages, sparse population outside urban centers, limited healthcare access in rural areas |
| Nova Scotia | Tourism potential, established fruit/wine industry (apples, vineyards, blueberries), beautiful coastline, university presence | Challenging soil for general agriculture, higher costs near Halifax, rocky terrain |
| Newfoundland | Recently permitted Ukrainian school in St. John’s, tight-knit communities, stunning natural beauty, lower land costs | Harsh climate, geographic isolation, very limited agricultural potential, remote from major centers |
Based on the practical considerations raised in the discussion, New Brunswick or Prince Edward Island emerge as the most viable options—offering the combination of affordable land, agricultural tradition, and growing interest from Ukrainian newcomers.
An alternative approach, suggested by several commenters, deserves serious consideration: rather than building from scratch, why not revitalize existing villages in the Prairies or Atlantic Canada where infrastructure already exists but populations have dwindled? The dying towns of rural Canada might welcome an infusion of families willing to farm, build, and stay.
Alternative Models Worth Studying
The discussion surfaced several relevant precedents:
Israeli kibbutzim were mentioned by multiple commenters as a model of collective agricultural communities that successfully preserved culture and language while remaining economically viable.
Existing eco-villages in Canada operate as stratas or cooperatives. One commenter noted that their own town has an eco-village structured this way, requiring a developer with capital and expertise to navigate permits and infrastructure.
Ukrainian settlements in Saskatchewan from the 1890s offer both inspiration and cautionary tales about the interaction between immigrant community aspirations and Canadian governmental authority.
Eco-communities in Ukraine before the war provide practical experience that displaced Ukrainians can draw upon. One commenter offered to connect interested parties with existing Ukrainian eco-settlement projects.
What Would It Take to Move from Dream to Reality?
Reading through the thread, a realistic pathway begins to emerge:
First, establish credibility. The organizer needs a verifiable identity, a track record, and transparent communication. The questions about the account’s authenticity aren’t trivial—they’re fundamental. Who is asking people to uproot their lives?
Second, do the homework. Visit existing intentional communities. Study the legal structures (strata, cooperative, land trust). Consult with lawyers familiar with Canadian land use and municipal planning. Develop actual financial projections.
Third, build an organizing committee. One person with a dream is a dreamer. A committee with diverse expertise—legal, financial, agricultural, construction, community development—becomes an organization capable of execution.
Fourth, engage established Ukrainian-Canadian institutions. One commenter wisely suggested connecting with the Ukrainian Canadian Congress and provincial Ukrainian organizations. These bodies have institutional memory, legal sophistication, and potential access to funding and political support.
Fifth, start small. Perhaps with a few families purchasing adjacent properties. Perhaps with a cooperative arrangement to buy farmland together. Perhaps by reviving a dying village rather than building from nothing. Grand visions are built from modest beginnings.
A Personal Reflection from Kamloops
I read this post from my house in Kamloops, British Columbia, where I’ve been building Ukrainian community in my own way. Every Saturday at 3:00 PM near City Hall, we gather for our Stand with Ukraine gathering—a practice we’ve maintained since February 24, 2022. We’ve celebrated Ukrainian Heritage Days. We’ve created scholarship funds for students who stand with Ukraine. We’re organizing the Ukrainian Values Conferences.
This is community-building too—not on purchased land in a planned settlement, but in the spaces between our existing lives. In parking lots and community centers. At university events and cultural celebrations. One gathering at a time.
Do I see myself in an eco-settlement someday? Perhaps. When the teaching is done and the courses I developed found new teachers and gatherings have new organizers—yes, I can imagine that life. The slower rhythms. The closer connection to land. The daily presence of neighbours who share language and memory and the particular grief of loving a country at war.
But here’s what I’ve learned from two decades of community work: the people around you matter more than the place. The right neighbours can make any location feel like home. The wrong dynamics can turn paradise into purgatory.
So to those dreaming of Ukrainian eco-settlements: dream on. Do your homework. Build your organizing capacity. Study those who came before. And understand that community isn’t a place you move to—it’s a practice you cultivate, wherever you are.
An Invitation
For now, if you’re looking for Ukrainian community in interior British Columbia: welcome to Kamloops. We’re here. We gather. We remember. We build—not a settlement, but something perhaps more durable: relationships that persist across distance, traditions that survive displacement, hope that refuses to die.
The eco-settlement in Atlantic Canada may or may not materialize. But the longing it represents—for home, for community, for a place where Ukrainian can be spoken and culture can be lived—that longing is real, and it deserves to be honored.
Whether in a planned community by the Atlantic or in scattered gatherings across the Rockies, we are building something together. One conversation at a time. One gathering at a time. One act of cultural preservation at a time.
Слава Україні.
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