Viktor Pshonka was Viktor Yanukovych’s beloved prosecutor general and one of the fugitive president’s closest friends. Pshonka became famous all over the world due to the extravagant interior design of his house near Kyiv, which was looted after the EuroMaidan Revolution that ended the Yanukovych presidency on Feb. 22, 2014.
But another embodiment of his imposing approach to work and life is still preserved — like a mausoleum where the dreams of Ukrainians for an honest and effective prosecutor general are buried. It is Pshonka’s suite in the building of the Prosecutor General’s Office, which was built during his time there. Half a floor was set aside for Pshonka’s suite, which consists of half a dozen rooms with the joint area of a basketball court. A separate elevator takes the prosecutor general directly to his office. Additionally, there is a special capsule for evacuation to the roof of the building in case of a fire, where the chief law enforcer would be picked up by a helicopter. There are a few other things: a relaxation room, a gym, a hairdressing salon, a kitchen, and a meeting room.
Almost seven years have passed since Pshonka fled Ukraine, but this spirit of supremacy and political intrigue has not faded from the Prosecutor General’s Office. None of his successors has ever fulfilled the demand for a truly courageous prosecutor who would start destroying corruption at any cost.
Black sheep
The prosecutor general in Ukraine is an even more influential person than in the U.S.
There, district attorneys are appointed by the president and have some independence from the attorney general. In Ukraine, the prosecutor general holds the entire hierarchy of law enforcement agencies under his or her control.
Last year, Ukraine finally fulfilled its international obligations and stripped the prosecutor’s office of investigative functions, giving them to other agencies. However, the direction of each investigation is set by a prosecutor overseeing the case, who reports to the prosecutor general.
This week was a good opportunity for Prosecutor General Iryna Venediktova to show her independence and dispel accusations of inefficiency and bias. Unfortunately, instead of seizing that opportunity, she further deepened society’s distrust in her and the prosecutor general’s office.
Recently, Venediktova stalled the case against Oleg Tatarov, deputy head of the President’s Office. Tatarov’s appointment has been rather controversial. Previously, Tatarov served as deputy head of the Main Investigative Directorate of the Interior Ministry during Viktor Yanukovych’s violent suppression of the EuroMaidan Revolution. In this capacity, he earned renown as a spin doctor for the Interior Ministry at the time of its brutal suppression of mass protests.
In August this year, Tatarov was appointed a deputy head of the President’s Office, and, in November, dark clouds began to gather over his head.
Former member of parliament and bankrupt construction tycoon Maksym Mykytas, under investigation by the National Anti-Corruption Bureau (NABU), made a deal with the investigators and started talking. His testimony revealed that Tatarov, who used to serve as a lawyer for Mykytas’ company UkrBud, bribed a forensic expert to get false evaluation results that helped the company.
Tatarov, who in recent months was in charge of overseeing Ukraine’s law enforcement, was tipped off that NABU was preparing to officially charge him with a crime. He decided to take a proactive approach and publicly attacked NABU, joining the chorus of pro-Russian politicians promoting the conspiracy theory that Ukraine was under foreign control. Tatarov lashed out the agency’s chief, Artem Sytnyk.
“NABU is not Ukraine’s story,” he said on Nov. 29. “It is all coming, unfortunately, from outside of our country. The root of the problems with the state’s anti-corruption policy is Artem Sytnyk.”
His comments probably ruined the weekend for President Volodymyr Zelensky and his chief of staff, Andriy Yermak, whose phones were ringing off the hook with calls from international partners. After all, Tatarov’s statement completely contradicted the agreements reached by the president earlier on the independence of NABU and its head as a precondition for assistance from the International Monetary Fund. The President’s Office tried to distance itself from Tatarov’s statement.
Crisis spreads
This crisis could have been avoided if Tatarov quietly resigned, but he didn’t have the willpower to do it. Instead, Venediktova tried to help him out. She blocked the case against him by taking it away from four prosecutors who were in charge of it. She appointed new ones, including herself, despite having zero experience as a procedural manager before being appointed prosecutor general this spring.
Now the Ukrainian leadership is experiencing political tumult. Tatarov’s case created a unique opportunity to demonstrate that everyone is equal before the law. Instead, Venediktova failed. Pressure on her, if there was any, cannot justify her actions, as the Ukrainian prosecutor general has a special system of protection against external influence on the procedure of his or her dismissal.
The stain of the crisis is spreading like an oil spill at sea. At first, Tatarov himself was under the spotlight. Now, the stain has spread to Venediktova — her decision to change prosecutors in the case looks even worse than Tatarov’s decision to publicly voice his opinions of the NABU. After all, Tatarov made a statement, while Venediktova used her legitimate power to save him.
This crisis will spread further, affecting people higher up. As per basic rules of crisis communications, it would have been better to solve this quickly. A few days ago it was possible to just quietly fire Tatarov. Now, to extinguish the crisis, the administration will have to publicly renounce him.
Obstructor-in-chief
The role of Venediktova in this crisis deserves such close analysis precisely because of how and why she was appointed. No one expected a different pattern of behavior from Tatarov, given his background. But Venediktova came to office under promises to punish corrupt officials and correct the shortcomings of her predecessor, Ruslan Riaboshapka, who she said failed to imprison corrupt officials.
But what does Venediktova use her power for? She doesn’t remove a prosecutor who refuses to investigate the Rotterdam+ corruption case, which involves the companies of oligarch Rinat Akhmetov. She blocks an extradition request for agrarian tycoon Oleh Bakhmatyuk, who is accused of the embezzlement of a $49-million stabilization loan that was issued by the National Bank of Ukraine to his VAB Bank.
This creates problems for Zelensky — after all, a prosecutor general who is convenient for oligarchs will never lose power, even if the president wants to fire her. Because the dismissal of such a prosecutor will not be supported by the parliament, where oligarchic groups can block such a scenario.
Like any political crisis, it is difficult to come out of it without casualties, but the faster you can sacrifice somebody, the better the outcome might be.
An example from recent history: If Yanukovych had sacrificed Tatarov’s boss, then-Interior Minister Vitaliy Zakharchenko, after the dispersal of the EuroMaidan protests in December 2013, there probably would have been no bloody confrontation in January-February 2014. Everything could have ended much less dramatically for Yanukovych and Ukraine.
But a crisis also creates a chance to replace those officials who did not live up to expectations. After all, no one will remember their names as soon as they lose their jobs. Hardly a Ukrainian can name a former prosecutor general or deputy chief of staff. All the responsibility in the eyes of society lies with the president. He promised to end corruption. The people who stand in the way of fulfilling that promise must be sacrificed.
Sergii Leshchenko is a Kyiv Post columnist, investigative journalist, and former member of the Verkhovna Rada, Ukraine’s parliament.
