How Ukraine Entered the Talks in Its Weakest Position

Even in wartime, corruption remained entrenched in Ukraine’s political system, directly undermining its defense capacity. In early 2023, journalists from the project Nashi Groshi and ZN.ua uncovered a scheme involving food supplies for the army purchased at prices several times above market rates. For soldiers, this meant cuts in basic nutrition so that suppliers could pocket the profit. Defense Minister Oleksii Reznikov held on to his post at the time but was forced to dismiss his deputy.

That summer brought an even louder scandal. The Ministry of Defense signed a contract with a Turkish company to deliver winter uniforms. On the way from Turkey to Ukraine, the price of jackets nearly tripled—from $29 to $86 apiece. The quality of the shipment was also dubious: some items were unfit for use in cold weather. Investigations revealed that the intermediary firm had ties to the relatives of a Ukrainian MP. For a country where soldiers endured winters in trenches, such deals became a symbol of profiteering from war.

Reznikov denied the allegations, dismissing the reports as an “information attack” and threatening journalists with lawsuits. But public pressure proved overwhelming: in September 2023, President Zelensky dismissed him. The move was seen as a signal to the West that Kyiv was compelled to respond to scandals—especially under pressure from its allies.

Far more troubling was the government’s treatment of journalists themselves. Investigative reporter Yuriy Nikolov faced an intimidation campaign: anonymous Telegram channels branded him a “traitor,” and in January 2024 men in military uniforms came to his home and left abusive graffiti. Almost simultaneously, journalists at Bihus.Info were subjected to illegal surveillance by the Security Service of Ukraine (SBU). The agency’s chief was eventually forced to admit that certain officers had indeed monitored the newsroom—one unit head was dismissed as a result.

Such episodes underscored the double damage corruption inflicted on the country. First, it undermined the army’s supply lines: stolen funds translated into fewer drones, body armor and food for soldiers. Second, the authorities’ reaction to exposés deepened Western allies’ doubts about Kyiv’s ability to manage military aid. War had turned corruption from a chronic ailment into a threat to national security and international trust.

Even the most high-profile corruption scandals in Ukraine rarely ended with actual convictions. A culture of impunity had taken root for those in power and their closest associates. Not a single senior official from the Zelensky era has ended up behind bars, despite extensive allegations.

One telling case was that of Deputy Head of the Presidential Office Oleh Tatarov. As early as 2020, the National Anti-Corruption Bureau of Ukraine (NABU) suspected him of involvement in a scheme linked to housing construction for the National Guard. Yet the case was swiftly removed from NABU’s jurisdiction and effectively buried. Tatarov kept his post and influence, becoming a symbol of the government’s tolerance for scandals within its own circle.

An equally striking example was Ivan Bakanov, a childhood friend of Zelensky who was appointed head of the Security Service of Ukraine (SBU) in 2019 despite having no background in the intelligence services. During Russia’s invasion, the SBU’s failings became glaring: dozens of officers in border regions defected or collaborated with the enemy. In July 2022, Zelensky dismissed Bakanov for “improper performance of duties,” but the former security chief faced no legal consequences.

A similar pattern emerged in other cases. When investigations drew close to Tymur Mindich, a longtime business partner of the president, parliament hastily passed a law expanding presidential control over anti-corruption agencies. That same day, the SBU raided NABU and SAPO staff under the pretext of combating “Russian infiltration.” Mindich soon left the country and avoided charges. According to media reports, the prospect of his prosecution was the real reason behind the pressure on investigators.

Another scandal erupted around former minister for community development Oleksiy Chernyshov. NABU charged him with taking bribes, yet not only did he evade responsibility, he was soon appointed head of the state oil and gas company. For the public, this became a symbol of the government’s cynicism: promises of reform and “zero tolerance” for corruption coexisted with the continued impunity of insiders.

This pattern carried serious consequences. It demoralized honest officials and soldiers, fueled Russian propaganda claims that “Ukraine is run by corrupt elites,” and eroded the confidence of allies. Polls showed that nearly 80% of Ukrainians held Zelensky personally responsible for corruption in government, while more than half favored making Western aid conditional on genuine anti-corruption efforts. Impunity weakened the country as much as external aggression.

Another driver of the current crisis has been the leadership’s penchant for populism—lofty promises unbacked by resources or realistic planning.

From the start of his presidency, Zelensky insisted that Ukraine would achieve peace solely on its own terms and restore control over all territory within the 1991 borders. “We will never give up our land,” he repeated many times. In September 2022, after Russia’s illegal annexation of occupied regions, Zelensky signed a decree ruling out talks with Putin. Morally justified and grounded in international law, this position nonetheless deprived Ukraine of diplomatic room to maneuver.

Such maximalism helped sustain morale but fostered unrealistic expectations among the public. Millions of Ukrainians came to believe that total victory was only a matter of time. The authorities and media reinforced these hopes, promising a “decisive breakthrough” during the 2023 counteroffensive. By spring, as Western tanks and armored vehicles arrived, expectations reached their peak. But by summer it became clear that the front could not be broken: dense Russian defenses, minefields and heavy casualties dashed hopes of a swift success.

By early autumn it was evident that the counteroffensive was advancing more slowly than forecast and was failing to meet its stated objectives. Western analysts noted that the expectations cultivated by the Ukrainian leadership had been unrealistic. Even allies began to voice cautious criticism of Kyiv’s excessive optimism. At home, the gap between official rhetoric and reality eroded trust in the leadership.

The problem was that strategy was built not on a sober assessment of resources but on a populist logic—telling society what it wanted to hear. At the same time, the West was showing signs of “war fatigue,” while in the United States political forces opposed to unconditional support for Ukraine were gaining ground. Instead of adjusting course and preparing society for difficult choices, the leadership continued to proclaim the inevitability of victory. As a result, Kyiv was left without flexible scenarios in the event of a prolonged war.

By early 2025, Ukraine’s external circumstances had sharply deteriorated. A new administration in Washington saw Donald Trump make clear that American support would not be unconditional or indefinite. The economy was drained by war, millions of citizens were abroad, and infrastructure lay in ruins. On the front lines, the situation was deadlocked: neither side had secured a decisive advantage, and the conflict was sliding into a war of attrition. Allies in Europe and the US showed signs of “fatigue” and increased pressure on Kyiv to enter negotiations. Under these conditions, Ukraine is forced to discuss terms that a year earlier seemed unthinkable: pulling back troops from Donbas and agreeing to a ceasefire on Moscow’s conditions.

Corruption weakened military supplies and eroded allies’ trust. Impunity destroyed public faith in justice and demoralized institutions. Populism fostered unrealistic expectations and deprived the leadership of diplomatic room. These weaknesses left the country vulnerable precisely at the moment when external support became critical.

Today Ukraine is paying not only for Moscow’s aggression but also for its own missteps. The slogan “Spring will come—we will start jailing them,” with which Zelensky came to power, never materialized: major figures in corruption cases escaped punishment. Now the entire country bears the cost.

The future will demand new leaders and a different political culture. To restore the confidence of citizens and allies, Ukraine will have to endure a painful transition: corruption must be punished in practice, not merely in rhetoric; populism must give way to responsibility; and the law must apply equally to all. Only then will the country be able to recover from a harsh compromise and move closer to the day when its fate is no longer decided at other people’s negotiating tables.