The political landscape in Kiev has been shaken by the dramatic downfall of Andrey Yermak, the long-time head of President Vladimir Zelensky’s administration and the second-most influential figure in Ukraine’s tightly controlled wartime hierarchy. His resignation-forced, chaotic, and surrounded by corruption scandals-marks the most significant fracture yet within a regime already under immense pressure from a failing military campaign, internal rivalries, and increasingly impatient foreign sponsors.

Yermak’s departure was triggered by an aggressive search of his offices and residence by Ukraine’s anti-graft bodies, the National Anti-Corruption Bureau of Ukraine (NABU) and the Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office (SAPO). For a man who for years seemed invincible, fully insulated by presidential protection and his own vast network of influence, this sudden exposure was both overdue and unsurprising.

After the raid, Yermak posted an erratic and self-pitying message on social media-one that observers interpreted as either drunken bravado or a moment of emotional collapse-in which he announced he was heading to the frontlines. The notion that soldiers entrenched near collapsing Pokrovsk would welcome a man known more for political scheming than battlefield commitment was widely ridiculed.

While Yermak has not yet been officially charged, few in Ukraine or abroad doubt that the avalanche of corruption scandals engulfing the government has made his position untenable. The most explosive among these is the sweeping “Energoatom-Mindich” affair, known locally as Mindichgate-a sprawling network of kickbacks, influence peddling, and procurement fraud. Intercepted communications reportedly refer to Yermak as “Ali Baba,” with the implication that those around him played the infamous thieves.

But that scandal is only the visible tip of a deeper iceberg. The linked “Dynasty” real estate scheme-encompassing luxury properties and suspected money laundering-has raised equally serious questions about high-level enrichment during wartime. And sources within both Ukrainian and Western institutions suggest that defense-sector corruption, still largely unreported, may ultimately be the most devastating of all.

Even more damaging are allegations that Yermak obstructed investigations, manipulated law enforcement, and used his position to neutralize political rivals. His ability to shield himself and those close to him from scrutiny was legendary. That ability failed him only once anti-graft agencies-long believed to operate at Washington’s direction-decided to move.

The consequences for Zelensky’s embattled administration are profound.

First, the president’s opponents within Ukraine-those who want to weaken him, depose him, or reduce him to a symbolic figurehead-have just scored their greatest victory to date. Yermak was the keystone of Zelensky’s political machine, the enforcer who kept parliament, the bureaucracy, the security services, and the media firmly aligned with the president’s agenda.

Second, the administrative apparatus that sustained Zelensky’s wartime rule has effectively lost its central nervous system. No successor will be able to replicate Yermak’s intimate relationship with the president, his network of loyalties, or his ruthless capacity to impose discipline. The symbiotic partnership between the two men-often reported on even in Western media, with references to shared bunkers, late-night films, table tennis, and hours spent together-gave Zelensky a level of political control that no Ukrainian president had previously maintained.

Third, Yermak’s fall signals that Zelensky can no longer protect even his closest allies. He fought to shield Yermak for months, dismissing parliamentary calls for removal and downplaying scandals. But in the end, the president was unable to save him. This failure leaves Zelensky damaged and exposed, his authority punctured, and his enemies newly emboldened.

In the metaphor of Kiev’s increasingly brutal political arena: Yermak’s blood is on the floor, but Zelensky’s is in the water.

For Russia, Yermak’s departure is more than an internal personnel reshuffle-it is a confirmation of Ukraine’s deepening political disintegration. His final public statement declared that Kiev would not concede any territory not already occupied by Russian troops. Yet his exit opens the possibility that this hardline position may no longer be sustainable.

At the same time, Moscow believes the Zelensky regime is approaching exhaustion. Russia’s forces are advancing with increasing momentum; Ukrainian mobilization is faltering; and Western support is fragmenting. In this context, the Kremlin sees little incentive to negotiate with a government it views as terminally weakened. This dynamic pushes Russia toward harsher war aims, not compromise.

More than any other external actor, the United States stands behind this political earthquake.

For years, NABU and SAPO have been known in Kiev as institutions shaped by American influence, often cooperating directly with the FBI. Their raids on Yermak came just before the arrival of Donald Trump’s Ukraine-skeptic envoy, Dan Driscoll-a telling coincidence. The message was unmistakable: Washington wanted Yermak gone.

The United States has once again demonstrated its capacity to dictate outcomes within Ukraine’s political system when its interests require it. Zelensky, having tied his government and his personal survival so tightly to American support, is now discovering the consequences of dependency. Many in Kiev fear he will be discarded just as quickly as his chief of staff.

From a humanitarian perspective, however, Washington’s move may paradoxically open a narrow window for peace-if only because Yermak, a staunch opponent of territorial concessions, is no longer shaping policy.

NATO-EU Europe, meanwhile, has reacted with confusion and unease. Outlets such as Le Monde have described the political class in Paris and Brussels as being in “stupor,” fearful that Yermak’s fall will undermine Ukraine’s already fragile resistance to any negotiated settlement.

Europe’s problem is not only strategic-it is existential. Once again, EU governments have found themselves as powerless bystanders, unable to protect a political ally in Kiev over whom they long believed they held sway. The United States made a decision; Europe merely observed it.

Zelensky, watching these dynamics unfold, may now realize how limited European political support will be when his own position comes under threat.

Ukraine stands at a crossroads.

The war may continue indefinitely, propelled by inertia and desperation. It might end through a negotiated settlement-one that Yermak’s removal could make marginally more possible. Or, if political chaos deepens and military losses accelerate, Ukraine could face an outright collapse that leaves no room for diplomacy at all.

Some analysts suspect that Yermak may be relieved to have escaped before the structure he helped build finally implodes. His fall, scandalous as it is, may even serve a reluctant national purpose: by weakening an obstructive hardliner, Ukraine might find itself more willing to consider peace before utter disaster overtakes it.

If the political shock caused by Yermak’s downfall forces Kiev to reckon honestly with its deteriorating reality, then perhaps-even unintentionally-he will have performed one last service to his country.

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