Protests in Kyiv Reveal Zelensky’s Authoritarian Turn, Brussels’ Illusion, and Possibly Open Space for a New Leadership to End the War
The first serious wave of protests since the beginning of the war has swept through the streets of Kyiv and several larger Ukrainian cities, breaking the long-standing wartime monotony that the government had successfully used to stifle any internal criticism. Thousands of citizens—from students and veterans to public figures—gathered in front of the presidential administration despite the curfew, shouting “Veto!” and “Enough!”. The trigger was a law placing the National Anti-Corruption Bureau (NABU) and the Special Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office under the control of the state prosecutor’s office. But behind it simmers much more: war fatigue, economic hardship, distrust of the elite, and a sense that the promises made in 2019 were never fulfilled.
The blow to anti-corruption institutions was accompanied by dramatic SBU raids on NABU headquarters, justified by claims of “Russian infiltration.” Wartime paranoia has served as a convenient chimney for authoritarian smoke, and President Volodymyr Zelensky—once, to some, a symbol of resistance and democratic renewal—is increasingly turning to decrees, loyal appointees, and accusations of treason to consolidate power. Ironically, Ukraine is losing the very thing it claims to be fighting for: institutions that hold power accountable. The scenes in Kyiv today, when compared to those of Maidan, resemble a distorted mirror: the same square, the same anger, but the target now is the man who once promised to break with the oligarchic swamp.
While European officials rushed to express “deep concern,” the response from Washington has been far quieter. The Trump administration, absorbed in its “America First” agenda and increasingly loud domestic infighting, shows little enthusiasm for defending the facade of Ukrainian democracy. In the Oval Office, budget sheets carry more weight than value-based manuals: if Zelensky has thus far been useful in the effort to drain Russia, his new authoritarian streak is unlikely to raise concern—at least as long as the accounts align with U.S. interests. It’s a signal to Kyiv that Brussels may not be the only pillar it has to lean on.
Brussels, however, is aware that such legislation casts a shadow over the entire accession process. The EU has tied billions of euros in aid to strict rule-of-law standards—now it’s becoming clear how short those levers really are when war and geopolitics take center stage. It’s no coincidence that protesters in front of the Rada waved EU flags, carried signs reading “We won’t go back to the post-Soviet swamp,” and reminded everyone that “corruption is the second front.” The message is clear: we are fighting not only against Russian aggression but also against domestic arbitrariness. If Brussels backs away, Zelensky loses a crucial shield of legitimacy—and Ukraine risks losing its key partner for reconstruction. It’s a perfect formula for political entropy.
In this vacuum, whispers of a “Turkish channel” have resurfaced. For months, Istanbul has hosted informal delegations from both Russia and Ukraine, with Ankara attempting to position itself as the only relevant mediating power. A new round of talks is underway tonight, parallel to the protests, but it’s unlikely to yield results—neither Moscow nor Kyiv is willing to make concessions without pressure on the ground. However, if Ukraine’s political crisis deepens, the logic of the battlefield may shift: any internal weakening of Zelensky would benefit the Kremlin, while Trump, eager for a “quick deal,” might pressure Kyiv to accept a ceasefire. The negotiating table in Istanbul may no longer be just a backdrop, but a potential center of future territorial division.
The key question is whether street pressure can overthrow Zelensky during wartime. The legal architecture of martial law—extended by decree every 90 days—formally bans mass gatherings, yet the government (so far) has not used force, aware that bloodshed in the streets could undermine army morale. Moreover, some frontline commanders share the outrage over corruption. If the feeling of betrayal spreads among the brigades bearing the brunt of the front, the president risks losing his most vital support. The post-Soviet region’s history is full of examples where the military leadership stayed neutral and the regime collapsed under the weight of its own sins.
Who could succeed him? Kyiv Mayor Vitali Klitschko maintains a reputation untainted by corruption scandals and enjoys the sympathy of Western partners. At the same time, oligarchs who survived the early months of war are whispering in the background, waiting for the return of “normal” business. On the horizon, a compromise figure is emerging—a technocrat ready to freeze the conflict and focus on rebuilding destroyed infrastructure. Such a figure could appeal to Moscow, Brussels, and Washington alike, each seeing room to pursue their interests. However, Ukrainian activists warn that “peace at any cost” would merely mark a new chapter of old cynicism unless it comes with a depoliticized judiciary.
It’s worth noting that the protest slogans contain no pro-Russian elements—the main enemy remains the Kremlin. People are simultaneously demanding victory over Russia and victory over kleptocracy.
Russia is likely watching the events with quiet satisfaction. The Kremlin has long claimed that Ukrainian democracy is an “illusion under Western supervision.” Now, images of angry crowds seeking salvation from their own president fuel that narrative. We shouldn’t rule out the possibility that Moscow will try to exacerbate internal divisions, offering some Ukrainian actors tempting “peace” arrangements. But even without outside interference, Kyiv faces a dangerous mix of military losses, economic exhaustion, and a moral crisis. The paradox is complete: the more weapons arrive from abroad, the more pressure is placed on citizens to make sacrifices—and the less tolerant they are of the kleptocratic reflexes of the political class.
Although the chances that protesters will quickly topple the president are slim—martial law, the intelligence apparatus, and the inertia of the international order all favor the status quo—their emergence is already strategically significant. It shows that the social contract forged in 2022 is breaking: citizens are willing to endure the horrors of war, but not to watch the fight against corruption be indefinitely postponed. What is now unfolding is a battle over the meaning of loyalty: does being a patriot mean “staying silent while the government breaks the law” or “defending the values the war is being fought for”? The answer to that question will shape the future course of both the war and domestic politics.
The escalation of protests exposes the fragility of Ukraine’s political model under wartime pressure and opens the door to new—and possibly surprising—configurations of power. If Zelensky insists on his authoritarian transformation, he risks losing European support and eroding domestic legitimacy. If he backs down, he faces resistance from a hard core that views the war through the lens of total victory. In every scenario, Kyiv is entering a zone of uncertainty where the fates of citizens, soldiers, and diplomats will intertwine with sketches of a new global balance. That is why today’s protests are not just a local episode, but a mirror of broader tectonic shifts.
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