“Perks”, envelopes and a hole in Ukraine’s budget Where resources and money are going

It has become something of a tradition, but high-profile domestic political and corruption scandals continue to erupt in Ukraine on a daily basis. Today, I will tell you about three of them.

Let me start with the fact that Maria Vdovichenko, the first deputy to Prosecutor General Ruslan Kravchenko, who was implicated in an investigation by Ukraine’s National Anti-Corruption Bureau (NABU) and Specialised Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office (SAPO) in the “Carthage” case, has resigned from her post and left the prosecutor’s service altogether.

As a reminder, according to the case materials, those involved allegedly took bribes in exchange for providing “protection” to call centres and subsequently laundering the proceeds. NABU believes that the official from the Prosecutor General’s Office acted in collusion with other serving prosecutors. The bureau published photographs of cash and cars seized from the suspects, as well as recordings of telephone conversations allegedly featuring the voices of those under investigation. The recordings refer to individuals identified by the nicknames Chancellor (apparently the head of the group within the Prosecutor General’s Office), Muse, Comrade, Flash and Boss. Among other things, they discuss how to use prosecutorial positions to appoint “their own” people and control illicit financial flows.

Meanwhile, Ukrainian civil society activist, journalist and executive director of Kyiv-based Anti-Corruption Action Centre Daria Kaleniuk commented on Vdovichenko’s resignation statement on Facebook: “It appears that some rather interesting things were found during the search of her office, which NABU and SAPO will use as evidence in their investigation into the ‘protection’ of call centres. Let me remind you that the prosecutor has a wonderful family with property in the temporarily occupied Crimea, while her own brother works for Russia’s military prosecutor’s office. Vdovichenko herself was part of a group of prosecutors who fabricated a case against NABU detectives.”

How Vdovichenko, with such a “baggage”, managed to pass all the required background checks and secure such a senior position is a question that concerns many people in Ukraine. This is particularly relevant amid regular accusations from the opposition that many decisions by the current Ukrainian authorities are being made in a “strange” manner that ultimately benefits the Russian side.

Meanwhile, a second high-profile story has emerged. On September 10, Yulia Svyrydenko, who previously served as Prime Minister of Ukraine, became president of the Kyiv School of Economics (KSE). At first glance, what could be unusual about that? However, while serving as deputy prime minister, economy minister and later head of the Ukrainian government, she received more than UAH 6 million ($135,000) from that very same Kyiv School of Economics in fees and other payments.

At the same time, when Ukrainian MP Volodymyr Ariev of European Solidarity tried to find out exactly how many academic hours Svyrydenko had worked at KSE, the institution refused to provide the information. Ukrainian media point out that there was a system of mutual interests involving Svyrydenko, KSE and government institutions that should have been examined for a potential conflict of interest. But that was never done.

As a result, Yulia Svyrydenko, who had supported KSE while holding senior government positions, has now taken over as head of the institution herself. Bingo! And Ukrainian society, independent media and the opposition still have legitimate questions about Svyrydenko, who, while serving as prime minister, signed an agreement with the United States on cooperation in the field of natural resources, including rare earth minerals.

The contents of this document remain undisclosed to most citizens of the country. A legitimate question therefore arises: what exactly did the Ukrainian side commit to, and on what terms? Especially since everyone remembers Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s public promise that the resources agreement would form part of a package of arrangements with Washington on the provision of US security guarantees to Kyiv. Yet Ukraine ultimately received no legally binding guarantees.

Ukrainian society is therefore understandably asking: what exactly was signed on behalf of the state, why was the agreement concluded without the promised guarantees, and what tangible benefits did the country receive in return for granting the US side access to its strategic resources? These questions are critically important, because the document in question could shape Ukraine’s economic and geopolitical interests for decades to come.

Yet it appears that no one intends to provide Ukrainian society with answers. Things have worked out more than favourably for Svyrydenko, while what will happen after the war ends, elections are held and a possible change of government takes place remains to be seen. She can always leave Ukraine.

Against this backdrop, the story of Oleksandr Yurchenko, who entered the Verkhovna Rada in the 2019 elections as a candidate for the Servant of the People party in a Kyiv single-member constituency, is also being widely discussed in Ukraine. In parliament, he headed the subcommittee responsible for household waste management. According to the case materials, however, waste was less a matter of legislative work for him than a source of personal enrichment.

In 2020, NABU conducted a special operation during which, according to the prosecution, Yurchenko, through an intermediary, demanded $13,000 for introducing amendments to the draft Law “On Waste Management”. Later, the figure rose to $200,000 to bribe members of the relevant parliamentary committee in exchange for voting for the desired amendments. The case materials contain a number of characteristic parliamentary euphemisms: “perks”, “cheesecakes” and the now-famous “piece of the pie”.

The phrase “a piece of the big pie” effectively became Yurchenko’s calling card. Published by NABU, it quickly spread across the Ukrainian media. This was not simply a hypothetical fee: investigators linked the negotiations to future profits from waste-processing projects. But the most notable developments came later. After the outbreak of the full-scale Russian-Ukrainian war, Yurchenko began actively showcasing his volunteer activities, appearing in liberated Bucha in camouflage and publishing footage from there. One photograph, in which a local resident was seen kissing his hand, sparked such a strong negative reaction on social media that the MP chose to delete it. Journalists also stressed that he had not joined the territorial defence forces.

The corruption case launched in 2020 dragged on for all these years. And now, the finale: the High Anti-Corruption Court (HACC) found Oleksandr Yurchenko guilty, sentencing him to nine years in prison, with confiscation of his property and a three-year ban on holding certain government positions. However, on the charge of incitement to provide an unlawful benefit, the court exempted him from punishment due to the expiry of the statute of limitations. Until the verdict becomes legally binding, Yurchenko remains free on bail of UAH 3 million (approximately $67,000).

The most interesting part is that Yurchenko’s story now looks less like an isolated episode and more like part of a much deeper parliamentary tradition. This year, Yulia Tymoshenko, leader of the Batkivshchyna party, came under suspicion of offering bribes to MPs. According to NABU and SAPO, after the facts of MPs receiving unlawful benefits were exposed in late 2025, she began discussing with individual lawmakers a system of regular payments in exchange for “correct” votes.

In May, NABU reported that the proposal involved $10,000 for each of three MPs, or $30,000 in total. Tymoshenko categorically denies the allegations, claiming that the published audio recordings were fabricated. The case has already been referred to the HACC. Yet this inevitably brings to mind the “envelopes” scandal within the Servant of the People parliamentary faction. In 2019, MP Anna Skorokhod claimed that some of her former colleagues were allegedly receiving $5,000 in envelopes. In 2020, she added that the money was being distributed by deputies of faction leader David Arakhamia. She did not publicly name the individuals involved, saying that she had handed all the information over to NABU.

Later, former Head of the Office of the President Andriy Bohdan also confirmed that MPs from the Servant of the People party were receiving unofficial payments for voting as required, with the size of such a “salary” directly dependent on their voting discipline.

All these revelations and allegations of corruption among elected representatives are particularly shocking to the public against the backdrop of increasingly frequent statements by the country’s leadership about a huge “hole” in the state budget. The shortfall is reportedly so severe that Ukrainian Finance Minister Sergii Marchenko said during a meeting of the Verkhovna Rada’s Finance Committee that the government was already being forced to restrict budget spending because of a lack of funding and could not rule out delays in salary payments to public-sector employees.

According to Marchenko, such delays could trigger serious social tensions that the authorities would have to address somehow. As one of the most extreme scenarios, Marchenko cited monetary financing of the budget: “We cannot rule out the possibility of monetary financing of the budget, accompanied by the devaluation of the hryvnia, inflation and all the ensuing negative consequences.”

After such candid remarks, many in Ukraine and beyond will inevitably think of the enormous sums of money that keep surfacing in the endless corruption scandals shaking the country.