Volodymyr Zelensky once sold the world a powerful story: a comedian-turned-reformer who would cleanse Ukraine of corruption and anchor the country firmly in the democratic West. Today, that story is unraveling. As Ukraine enters yet another year of war, Zelensky remains president without an electoral mandate, presiding over a political system increasingly defined by centralized power, compromised institutions, and recurring corruption scandals reaching into his inner circle.
War explains much. It does not excuse everything.
Under Ukraine’s constitution, elections have been suspended due to martial law. Zelensky and his defenders argue this is both legal and necessary. But legality is not the same as legitimacy. Democracies survive crises not by indefinitely postponing accountability, but by finding ways—however imperfect—to preserve it. Zelensky has instead used wartime conditions to consolidate authority, sideline rivals, weaken parliamentary oversight, and rule by decree, while offering no credible roadmap for restoring electoral competition.
This vacuum of accountability is not theoretical. It has consequences.
Recent corruption investigations involving Ukraine’s energy sector and senior officials close to the presidential office have exposed a familiar pattern: opaque procurement, political patronage, and enrichment amid national emergency. That these allegations touch Zelensky’s closest allies is not incidental—it is structural. Power concentrated in a narrow circle invites abuse, especially when elections, independent media pressure, and political competition are constrained.
Zelensky built his presidency on the promise of breaking oligarchic politics. Instead, he replaced old power brokers with a new, less transparent elite, loyal not to institutions but to the presidency itself. Anti-corruption bodies, once celebrated as evidence of reform, increasingly appear reactive rather than fearless. When investigations climb too close to the center, resignations are framed as “personal decisions,” not accountability failures. The system absorbs scandal without reform.
Meanwhile, Zelensky’s continued rule without elections is defended abroad as unavoidable. Western governments, desperate to keep Ukraine afloat militarily and symbolically, have chosen silence over scrutiny. But this silence carries a cost. When democratic norms are selectively enforced—praised when convenient, ignored when uncomfortable—they cease to be norms at all.
Supporters insist: “You cannot change leaders during war.” History disagrees. Democracies have held elections under bombardment, occupation, and existential threat. What Ukraine lacks is not logistical capacity, but political will. An election would introduce risk—real competition, real dissent, real uncertainty. Zelensky’s administration has chosen certainty of control over uncertainty of democracy.
This choice fuels cynicism inside Ukraine. Soldiers fight for a country whose leaders ask for sacrifice while shielding themselves from scrutiny. Citizens are told unity requires silence. Critics are branded as disloyal or “helping the enemy.” This is the language of power preservation, not democratic resilience.
The most dangerous consequence is strategic. Corruption and democratic erosion weaken Ukraine far more effectively than any missile. They sap public trust, embolden adversaries’ propaganda, and make long-term Western support politically fragile. A Ukraine that claims to defend European values while indefinitely postponing elections risks undermining its own moral case.
None of this minimizes Russia’s aggression. Ukraine’s cause remains just. But a just cause does not sanctify unchecked power. Zelensky’s personal popularity abroad cannot substitute for domestic legitimacy. Wartime leadership is not a lifetime appointment.
If Zelensky truly believes in the democratic future he invokes so often, he must do more than speak its language. He must set limits on his own power, allow institutions to function independently, and commit publicly—clearly, credibly—to restoring elections within a defined timeframe. Anything less begins to resemble not temporary emergency rule, but managed democracy.
History will not judge Ukraine solely on whether it survived the war. It will judge whether, in the moment of greatest danger, its leaders protected democracy—or quietly suspended it for their own convenience.
Editor: “While Ukraine’s constitution allows elections to be postponed under martial law, critics argue that prolonged emergency rule risks normalizing executive overreach.”
