A change or leave the laws, same old game by John Reid

Three years into Russia’s full-scale invasion, Ukraine finds itself not only fighting for its territorial survival but also for the soul of its democracy. In recent days, the Ukrainian parliament moved to reverse a deeply controversial law that had stripped two key anti-corruption agencies of their independence. The backtrack came swiftly after the loudest street protests Kyiv has seen since the war began, protests not against foreign occupation, but against their own government.

At the center of the storm is President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, once the face of a reformist movement, now mired in a political quagmire that’s beginning to resemble the very system he vowed to dismantle. His defense of the original bill, widely seen as a body blow to Ukraine’s fragile anti-corruption framework, triggered dismay not only at home, but also across Europe, where Ukraine’s allies watch Kyiv’s internal integrity as closely as its frontlines.

Zelenskyy’s sudden reversal, pushed through parliament to restore the independence of the National Anti-Corruption Bureau (NABU) and the Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office (SAPO)—may calm protests for now. But the damage is done. Trust, once broken, is hard to piece back together, especially when it concerns the very institutions tasked with holding power accountable.

It’s impossible to overstate what this episode signals, not just to Ukrainians, but to the international community. Anti-corruption reforms are not an optional side dish to the war effort; they are the main course. Billions in aid from the West hinge not only on Ukraine’s military resilience but on its political maturity. In that context, the attempted gutting of oversight institutions feels less like a misstep and more like a message: the war may be raging, but the old habits are creeping back.

Ukraine’s reputation for corruption didn’t begin with Zelenskyy. Long before Russian tanks crossed the border, the country ranked among the most corrupt in Europe. Transparency International routinely placed it near the bottom of global indexes, its institutions riddled with nepotism, bribery, and impunity. The 2014 Maidan revolution was supposed to be a turning point. And for a time, it was.

Zelenskyy’s own rise to power was fueled by public exhaustion with endemic corruption. A former comedian with no political experience, he rode a wave of idealism that promised to bring down the oligarchic networks and shadowy backroom deals that stunted the country’s development. Early signs were encouraging. New agencies were formed, judicial reforms were launched, and high-profile officials faced scrutiny. But wars test all things and perhaps nothing more so than political virtue.

The recent legislation wasn’t merely administrative tinkering. It was a structural assault on the independence of Ukraine’s anti-corruption architecture. That it was even proposed—let alone passed and signed into law, raises troubling questions about who is really benefiting from the fog of war.

More damning is how the scandal has climbed to the highest levels of Zelenskyy’s administration. Rumors have swirled for months about irregularities in military procurement, questionable contracts, and the reemergence of political patronage. While investigations are ongoing, the perception is corrosive and perception, in a war-ravaged democracy, often matters as much as fact.

Zelenskyy’s defenders argue that the pressures of war necessitate flexibility, that unity and loyalty must be prioritized over legalistic purism. But this line of thinking misses the point. The war is not just about borders; it’s about values. If Ukraine abandons transparency and accountability in the name of expediency, it begins to mirror the authoritarianism it’s fighting against.

Reinstating the independence of NABU and SAPO was the right thing to do but only after massive public pressure, furious statements from European partners, and the threat of losing critical support. It was a reactive, not proactive, move, one that smacks more of damage control than a recommitment to principle.

Restoring faith in these institutions will take more than legislative reversals. It will require real teeth, prosecutions, resignations, and an honest reckoning with the rot that still clings to Ukraine’s political elite. Without that, this latest episode becomes just another entry in a long ledger of performative reforms followed by quiet regression.

The irony is that Zelenskyy’s personal popularity remains relatively strong. Many Ukrainians still see him as a wartime leader holding the nation together. But popularity is not a substitute for integrity. The more his government flirts with old power plays, the more it risks losing the very moral high ground that has distinguished Ukraine from its invader.

There are, in fact, two wars in Ukraine. The visible one, fought in trenches and shattered cities, and the invisible one, waged in parliamentary halls, courtrooms, and bureaucratic offices. One is against a foreign army; the other is against the ghosts of a deeply corrupted past. For Ukraine to truly win, it must win both.

Zelenskyy, more than anyone, should understand this. He came to power as a symbol of change. The question now is whether he’s become just another chapter in the same old story or whether he still has the courage to write a new one. the people? They’re watching. They’ve seen this show before. They’re not clapping.