The Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine has passed a law that effectively destroys the independence of NABU and SAPO. This is not merely a reassignment of subordination. Not a technical amendment, as some would like to present it. It is the dismantling of the anti-corruption infrastructure built after the Revolution of Dignity – an infrastructure created by civil society, under pressure from international partners, and in response to the demands of Ukrainians who wanted an honest, transparent state. Many of them gave their lives for that demand.
Sevgil Musayeva relveals.
Today, that choice has been betrayed.
This decision is not just a betrayal of the post-Maidan architecture. It marks a loss of direction, a mockery of memory, and the beginning of an authoritarian drift — where power becomes concentrated in one set of hands, without balance, without accountability, and without fear of exposure.
Historically, we have seen these symptoms before.
There have been votes in our history that have changed the country forever.
Today is one of those days.
In these hours, I’m thinking about choice.
Because every person — even in the darkest of times — makes a choice. To choose fear, or to choose dignity. To be a slave to circumstances, or to remain true to oneself.
I want to address those who, today, despite enormous administrative, political, and moral pressure, said: no.
Those who did not press the green button.
Those who remained faithful to their oath, to common sense, and — above all — to their conscience.
I know how hard it was for you. I know how you were threatened, undermined, persuaded.
But you stood firm. History sees you. And history will remember.
I don’t want to write in lofty terms today — “this is the beginning of the end” or “a new era has begun.” But I do know this: history in Ukraine is cyclical. Every time, those in power try to tame this people. To break them. To turn them into a silent mass. And every time — they are wrong.
Because this country has a unique DNA. It has a heart that is restless, wounded, and proud.
This is a country that has risen up. That has fought. That has lost and found itself again and again.
I know what I’m talking about. Because I am part of this history too.
I was 17 when the first Maidan was burning. I was 26 when the Revolution of Dignity began.
I saw hope being born — and I saw it gunned down. I remember the first days after the loss of Crimea, the first death notices from the front, the first laws that felt fatal. I remember the feeling: that’s it, we’ve lost. We’ve fallen. There’s no way back.
But a path forward always emerged. Because a country is not its politicians. A country is its nerve.
It’s its youth. Its volunteers. Its civil society. Its free journalists. Its teachers. Its ordinary voters — those who can tell truth from lies.
Yes, today those who believe in a return to the past are celebrating. Yes, today the revanchists rejoice — those who think 2014 can be undone. But that is an illusion.
The most dangerous illusion in politics is to believe you are stronger than time. To think you can govern a country as if it has no memory. To believe you can buy everything — and escape accountability.
This government, like those before it, will eventually collide with reality. And the reality is this: Ukraine has changed. And it cannot be stopped. Even if, for now, a few key mechanisms have been stalled.
We are once again facing a long road — through setbacks, disillusionment, resistance, and yet more struggle.
But the most important thing is to remain true to ourselves. To stay clear-headed. Not to break. Not to sell out. Not to settle for less. To stand with those who carry the light. Who remember why it all began.
Because in the end, a country is not built on yesterday — but on tomorrow. And each of us is a part of it. What we do today either strengthens its future — or weakens it.
Let us be strong. Not for the government. Not for Europe. But for ourselves.
So that in 10, 20, 30 years, when we look back, we feel no shame for this day.
For this choice. And for ourselves.
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