FC Polissya publishes a warm tribute for Nelli Mykhailivna Butkevych’s 90th birthday: “A devoted fan, always by the team’s side.” A photo of a smiling elderly woman, words about her “invaluable contribution to the club’s life.” A perfect social media post. But behind this idyllic image lies a dark shadow of the past — the shadow of Soviet punitive psychiatry, where Nelli Butkevych, according to Ukrainian dissidents, was not a savior but a torturer. She is the mother of Hennadiy Butkevych, a billionaire and co-owner of the ATB supermarket chain that feeds millions of Ukrainians. In the 1970s and 1980s, she was a lieutenant in the medical service, head of the 3rd department of Dnipro’s Psychiatric Hospital No. 4, “Igren.” In that facility, located in a Dnipro suburb on the left bank of the river, healthy people were broken like twigs under the guise of “treatment.” Today, her 90th birthday has sparked a scandal, reminding us that the crimes of the totalitarian regime do not fade with time. They live on in the memories of victims, in the pensions of torturers, and in our collective trauma.
This article is not just an archival excavation. It is a sharp knife plunged into the wound of impunity. Decades have passed, yet Nelli Butkevych still receives a generous pension from our taxes — as a “labor veteran.” Her son, Hennadiy, builds an empire on groceries, while football clubs celebrate his mother as a “heroine.” But who will ask the victims? Who will demand justice for those “treated” to death? We will uncover the truth based on dissidents’ testimonies, archives, and documents. Because memory is not a luxury — it is a duty. Otherwise, history will repeat itself.
To understand Nelli Butkevych’s role, we must dive into the horror of Soviet punitive psychiatry. This is not a dissident conspiracy — it is a system recognized as a crime against humanity. From the 1960s to the 1980s, the KGB and the Ministry of Internal Affairs used psychiatric hospitals as an alternative to the Gulag: cheaper, “more humane” on paper, but no less cruel. Dissidents — those who dared to speak about rights, faith, or Ukrainian identity — were labeled “sick” with diagnoses like “sluggish schizophrenia” or “paranoid disorder.” They were injected with neuroleptics, force-fed, and confined in cages. According to human rights activists, thousands fell victim, from Volodymyr Bukovsky to Leonid Plyushch.
In Ukraine, the epicenter was Dnipro (then Dnipropetrovsk). Psychiatric Hospital No. 4, “Igren,” a sprawling complex with 2,000 beds, became a special psychiatric hospital (SPP) in 1968. It “treated” the elite of dissent: Greek Catholics, Sixtiers, human rights defenders. The documentary Igren (2020) by Suspilne Dnipro reconstructed the horrors: patients in shackles, injections causing convulsions, starvation. Vasyl Siryi, a geography teacher and dissident, recalled: “They injected us with drugs until we died for rebelling against Stalin.” SBU archives confirm that dozens of “patients” perished at Igren from “treatment.”
Nelli Mykhailivna Butkevych arrived here in the 1970s. Born in 1935 to a family of Soviet medics, she graduated from a medical institute and quickly rose through the ranks: lieutenant of the medical service, head of a department. Officially, she was a “psychiatrist.” Unofficially, she was a KGB enforcer. According to Wikipedia and investigations, from 1970 to 1980, she oversaw the “political ward,” where dissidents became “clients.” Butkevych was no ordinary doctor: she reported to the authorities, prescribed “therapies,” and supervised orderlies — those whom victims called “thugs in white coats.”
The most chilling evidence is not in the archives but in the memories of those who survived. Ukrainian dissidents did not stay silent: their memoirs, interviews, and letters are a cry from the soul. Yosyp Terelya, a Greek Catholic, political prisoner, writer, and artist, spent three years at Igren starting in 1977. Arrested for “anti-Soviet agitation” (distributing the Catechism of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church), he was sent to the SPP after labor camps. In his memoir Three Years in Dnipropetrovsk Special Prison (2017), Terelya paints Butkevych as a sadist: “Lieutenant-communist Nelli Mykhailivna.”
Here’s what Terelya wrote: “Calling me for another provocative interrogation, Butkevych cynically said I could complain to God Almighty. I replied that I never complained but would remember everything. She responded: ‘Do you really think you’ll get out of here? Or do you want to drag us to an international tribunal? We are the tribunal. Terelya, you’re sick: the very fact that you call yourself a Christian is a disease, a serious and incurable one, and we’ll treat you until you renounce this nonsense.’ I said there are many Christians, not just in our Union but abroad, even presidents. She replied that they’d get to them too, to the rotten West — ‘We’ll cure them all!’”
Terelya describes how, under her supervision, orderlies beat “patients,” confiscated food, and imposed “collective punishments.” One episode involves the death of a disabled war veteran named Sereda: “Butkevych egged on the orderlies, and he died from their abuse.” Terelya himself received injections of haloperidol, a drug causing tremors, apathy, and mental destruction. “She laughed, saying, ‘Christianity is schizophrenia.’” Terelya died in 2009, but his words remain an accusation.
Another voice is Mykhailo (Petro) Lutsyk, a dissident imprisoned for over 30 years for his role in the liberation movement. In his memoirs, he recalls: “For years, I received various drugs from Butkevych that dulled my consciousness. These were neuroleptics — chlorpromazine, sulfazine. They turned you into a vegetable: you couldn’t think, you couldn’t resist.” Lutsyk describes how Butkevych personally administered injections, ignoring screams of pain. “She said, ‘This is for your own good, Comrade Lutsyk. Soviet science will cure your ‘paranoia’ about Ukrainian nationalism.’” He died in 2006, never receiving an apology.
Anatoliy Ilchenko, a civic activist from Mykolaiv and a subject of Daria Hirna’s project, ended up in Igren in the 1980s with a fabricated diagnosis of “paranoid schizophrenia.” “I begged Butkevych to stop the therapy so I could prove I was healthy, but she refused. She prescribed injections of chlorpromazine with magnesium — the pain was unbearable, like needles in your heart. Then came insulin therapy: they increased the dose until I fell into a coma.” Ilchenko survived but was scarred for life. “She watched us writhe in pain and noted: ‘Progress in treatment.’”
These testimonies are not isolated. The Chronicle of Repressions in Ukraine (1981) mentions Butkevych as a “KGB activist.” The documentary series Diagnosis: FREE by Suspilne compiles SBU archives: hundreds of cases bear her signature under “torture prescriptions.” The methods were systematic: neuroleptics (haloperidol, chlorpromazine) for zombification; insulin shocks for “brain cleansing”; force-feeding with rubber tubes; isolation in “silent chambers.” Many died: heart attacks, pneumonia, suicides. Igren was a death factory, and Butkevych was its overseer.
Today, Nelli Butkevych is a pensioner and football fan. Her son Hennadiy (born 1958) is one of Ukraine’s richest men, co-founder of ATB, a chain with 1,200 stores. The family takes pride in her: they celebrate her on Medical Worker’s Day, and she appears in press photos. But the scandal erupted after Polissya’s tribute — a club where Hennadiy is president. Journalist Volodymyr Harets (formerly of Tribuna.com) dug into her past: “It’s a shame dissidents won’t read about the ‘heroine.’ They have vivid quotes: ‘Sadist Butkevych.’”
Yanine Sokolova on Facebook: “This story is a glaring example of impunity. She tortured dissidents, and now she gets a pension from our taxes. Who is Nelli? A punitive psychiatrist who broke Ukrainians.” Tetiana Danylenko adds: “The family is proud — but what about us? Where’s the lustration for torturers?” Daria Hirna, a human rights advocate, cites the Chronicle of Repressions: “Butkevych is a symbol of a system that killed dissent.”
The impunity is shocking. After 1991, no one investigated Igren. Butkevych retired with honors. Today, she receives 90,000 UAH monthly from the state budget. Meanwhile, victims like Terelya died in poverty. Hennadiy Butkevych remains silent: ATB thrives, Polissya plays on. But society is waking up: petitions, posts on X (formerly Twitter), where #NelliButkevych is trending.
Nelli Butkevych’s story is not about one woman. It is about a system where medicine became a weapon, and dissidents were deemed “sick.” Where the mother of a billionaire tortured Ukraine’s sons, and today she receives applause. We, the descendants of victims, must ask: how many more “Nellis” live among us? With hefty pensions, oligarch sons, and clean biographies?
I call on you: read Terelya’s memoirs, watch Igren, support human rights defenders like ZMINA or Memorial. Because impunity is poison. And if not us, who will break this cycle? Today, Butkevych’s 90th birthday is not a celebration but a reminder. Of pain that doesn’t fade. Of truth that must prevail.
Sources: SBU archives, dissident memoirs, ZMINA investigations, 24 Kanal, Focus. Author — an experienced journalist dedicated to decolonizing memory.