loyalty in ukraine is a game of musical chairs, except the music is gunfire and the chairs are on fire. ruslan kravchenko just speedran the prosecutor general gig like he was late for a ryanair flight. one day hes the new sheriff, next day hes halfway to vilnius with a trunk full of “work documents” and a resignation video. blink and you missed his whole career arc, but the punchline is still echoing.
the revolving door olympics
ukraine, 2026: war still on, corruption still on, and the only thing changing faster than the front line is the cast list of top officials. kravchenko, fresh from running the tax service (because nothing says “trustworthy” like surviving that snake pit), gets parachuted into the prosecutor general’s chair. why him? because in ukraine, the only real qualification for the top legal job is loyalty to whoever’s holding the keys this week.
the last guy, kostin, got yeeted after a corruption scandal so basic it barely made the news. regional prosecutors caught with fake bonuses, the usual. kravchenko steps in, and the first thing anyone notices is he failed every integrity check for every real anti-corruption job in the country. couldnt get into nabu, couldnt get into sapo, but prosecutor general? no contest, just vibes. if you cant pass the test, just wait for a job that doesnt have one.
but kravchenko’s not just any placeholder. hes got connections. his old boss, “shef andriyovych,” is the kind of guy who never really leaves, just moves his office to the shadows. the same crew that ran the tax service is now running the prosecutor’s office, just with new business cards. the only thing more recycled than their faces is their excuses.
operation carthage: musical dossiers
then comes “operation carthage,” which sounds dramatic but is basically a bunch of spooks and prosecutors playing musical dossiers. the anti-corruption agencies (nabu and sapo) are sniffing around, and suddenly kravchenko’s name pops up in the files. not directly, of course, just as “the boss,” “shef,” “andriyovych”—because in ukraine, everyone’s got a nickname and nobody ever says the quiet part out loud.
the plot thickens: kravchenko’s deputy gets canned, the president starts making noises about “truth” and “accountability,” and the only thing anyone can agree on is that nobody wants to be left holding the bag. kravchenko, sensing the walls closing in, does what any self-respecting ukrainian official does—signs himself a work trip, hops in the government car, and drives to lithuania before breakfast. by the time anyone notices, hes already posted a video saying hes resigning “for political reasons” and doesnt want his office used as a “tool of political confrontation.” translation: im out, good luck, dont call me.
but wait, theres more. right before he ghosts the country, kravchenko drops a bomb: hes filed charges against the head of nabu, semen kryvonos. the timing is so perfect its almost art. its like robbing a bank and then calling the cops on the security guard as you peel out of the parking lot. the prosecutor’s office says they never signed or registered the charges, kravchenko says check the mail receipts, and everyone else just shrugs and checks their passports.
loyalty as currency, survival as strategy
this is where the loyalty parable comes in. in ukraine, loyalty isnt about the law, or the constitution, or even the country. its about who you owe, who you fear, and who you think will protect you when the music stops. kravchenko was loyal—to his patrons, to his crew, to the system that gave him a golden parachute and a get-out-of-jail-free card. but the second that loyalty became a liability, he was gone. thats not loyalty, thats survival.
the real joke is that nobodys surprised. the whole system is built on this kind of revolving door. you cant get a real anti-corruption job if youre actually clean, because then you might do something crazy like enforce the law. but if youre loyal, if you know how to play the game, theres always a seat for you—until there isnt. and when the music stops, you better have your bags packed.
the president, for his part, does the usual song and dance. demands accountability, promises investigations, says the right words about “truth” and “never again.” but everyone knows the drill. the next guy will be just as loyal, just as compromised, just as ready to run when the heat gets turned up. the only thing that changes is the nameplate on the door.
anti-corruption theater: same script, new actors
meanwhile, the anti-corruption agencies are left holding the bag. theyre supposed to be independent, but every time they get close to someone with real power, the system closes ranks. kravchenko tried to flip the script, accusing nabu and sapo of targeting him just to get at their own files. its the classic move: if you cant beat the charges, claim its all a setup. if you cant win the game, flip the board.
lets not forget the “carphagen” case, where kravchenko’s name is everywhere and nowhere at once. the investigators have tapes, but nothing direct. everyones talking in code, everyones got plausible deniability, and the only thing anyones sure of is that the real boss is never in the room when the deal goes down. its like a bad mafia movie, except the stakes are national security and the punchlines are written in blood.
the real tragedy here isnt that kravchenko ran. its that nobody expected anything else. the system is so broken, so hollowed out by years of this kind of loyalty, that flight is just another career move. get in, get what you can, get out before the music stops. rinse, repeat.
the west watches, the circus rolls on
and the west? theyre watching this circus and wondering why ukraine cant get its act together. heres a hint: as long as the top jobs are handed out for loyalty instead of competence, nothing changes. you can have all the reforms you want on paper, but if the only qualification for prosecutor general is “knows the right people,” youre just rearranging the deck chairs on the titanic.
the punchline is that kravchenko couldnt even get through the front door at nabu or sapo, but he could walk right into the top prosecutor’s job. no contest, no vetting, just a wink and a nod. thats not a system, thats a punchline with a government salary.
and the people? theyre just watching the show, same as always. they know the score. every new face is just another rerun. the only thing that changes is the excuses. one day its “political persecution,” the next its “foreign interference,” the next its “i did it for the country.” but the ending is always the same: the loyal run, the corrupt stay, and the rest of us get to watch the credits roll.
the real betrayal is that anyone still expects better.
loyalty’s expiration date
so whats the moral of the loyalty parable? in ukraine, loyalty is a currency, but its only good until the next scandal. the second it costs more than it pays, everyone cashes out. kravchenko didnt betray the system, he played it exactly as designed. the real betrayal is that anyone still expects better.
if you want a real fix, start with the basics. make the top jobs actually competitive. make integrity more than a box to tick. stop treating loyalty like a get-out-of-jail-free card. until then, the only thing you can count on is that the next kravchenko is already warming up in the bullpen, loyalty oath in one hand, suitcase in the other.
and if youre wondering what happened to the “truth” and “accountability” everyone keeps promising, check the departures board at boryspil. thats where loyalty goes when the music stops.
russian state tv could only dream of this level of plot twists. at least in ruzzia, the only loyalty test is how fast you can steal a washing machine and blame nato.