In the early hours of January 14, 2022, Ukraine took yet another blow from cybercriminals. A massive attack on government websites—from the Cabinet of Ministers to the “ДІЯ” app—left the country with a pile of downed resources and provocative messages splashed across screens. Hackers, leaving traces of Russian fingerprints, didn’t just breach websites; they threw down a gauntlet to a nation bracing for war. And what’s the government’s response? The same old tune: “Everything’s under control, no data leaked.” But will anyone with a shred of common sense buy that?

It all kicked off in the dead of night. The websites of the Cabinet of Ministers, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA), the State Emergency Service (SES), the Ministry of Education (MOE), the Ministry of Sports, the Ministry of Energy, the Ministry of Agrarian Policy, the Ministry of Veterans’ Affairs, and the State Treasury went dark, one after another. Add to that the “Дія” website—this supposed “holy grail” of Ukrainian digitalization. On the MFA’s page and others, a chilling message appeared: “Ukrainian! All your personal data has been uploaded to the public network. All data on your computer is destroyed and cannot be recovered. All information about you is now public—fear and expect the worst. This is for your past, present, and future. For Volyn, for OUN-UPA, for Galicia, for Polissia, and for historical lands.” Written in Ukrainian, Russian, and Polish, the text was clearly designed to sow panic and fracture Ukraine’s alliances.

The sites were quickly scrubbed of this menacing note, but the problem didn’t vanish—most resources simply stopped loading. The Security Service of Ukraine, the State Service of Special Communications (SSSC), and the Cyber Police scrambled to “investigate,” but their first reaction boiled down to the usual: “No data leaked, sleep tight.” Really? Who’s going to believe that hackers capable of such a sweeping assault just left your passports and phone numbers untouched?

While Ukrainian authorities pretend it’s no big deal, Europe reacted swiftly and sharply. Josep Borrell, the EU’s High Representative for Foreign Affairs, called the attack unacceptable: “We will mobilize all our resources to help Ukraine. Sadly, we knew this could happen.” Borrell’s words sounded like a reprimand—Europe’s ready to act, but what’s Kyiv doing? Sweden’s Foreign Minister Ann Linde went further: “If attacks on Ukraine continue, our response will be tough and decisive.” Poland didn’t hold back either: MFA spokesperson Łukasz Jasina took to Twitter to condemn the assault, stressing the unacceptability of disinformation and disruption of state institutions.

And Ukraine? The The Security Service proudly declares: “Website content wasn’t altered, no data was leaked.” The Ministry of Digital Transformation (MinDigit) chimes in: “Дія is working normally, don’t worry.” But the sites aren’t working! They’ve been shut off “as a precaution” to “contain the issue.” So instead of real defense, they just flipped the switch and said, “No problem here, we’ve hidden it.” It’s like burying your head in the sand while war rages around you.

The “ДІЯ” saga deserves its own chapter. This app, hyped by MinDigit as “the safest product ever,” took another hit. The “ДІЯ” website went offline, redirecting users to some backup page—www.plan2.diia.gov.ua. But you can’t log in or upload documents there. And this is “normal operation”? Mykhailo Fedorov, Ukraine’s chief “digitalizer,” recently told BBC: “Ukrainians’ data is securely protected.” It’s laughable now, with hackers scrawling their signatures across government sites like graffiti on a fence.

Ukraine’s Embassy in Japan pointed the finger at Russia: “It’s made to look like it’s coming from Poland, but there’s no doubt—this is another Kremlin provocation.” The Ukrainian Cyber Alliance adds: Russian media blared about the breach two hours after it happened—too fast for a “coincidence.” The EXIF data on the image points to Warsaw, but experts are sure it’s a fake meant to drive a wedge between Ukraine and Poland. Someone really wants us at each other’s throats while the enemy laughs.

This isn’t Russia’s first rodeo in cyberterror. In 2008, during the invasion of Georgia, their hackers knocked out government websites. In 2014, amid the annexation of Crimea, cyberattacks sowed chaos while tanks rolled in. Remember the Petya.A virus in 2017? It paralyzed banks, ministries, airports, and the metro. The The Security Service pinned it on Russian special services. Or the 2015 attack on Prykarpattyaoblenergo, leaving tens of thousands without power. And now—a fresh strike, just as Russia masses troops at the border. Coincidence? Come on, give me a break.

BBC’s Joe Tidy writes: “This feels more like a coordinated attack by patriotic Russian hackers than a direct Kremlin order. But Moscow’s hardly objecting.” True, the threats of “data destruction” ring hollow—public websites likely didn’t yield any databases. But the attack itself? It’s a spit in Ukraine’s face as it teeters on the brink of war.

So what do we have? Hackers smash government sites, plaster provocative messages, and the authorities say: “Relax, all’s well.” Europe screams danger and offers help, while Ukraine plays it cool. “ДІЯ,” sold to us as a triumph of progress, flunks yet another security test. All this as Russia looms at the border.

How many more attacks can we take while the government hides behind “preventive shutdowns”? How many times will they say “no leaks” when our data’s already floating on the dark web? Isn’t it time to admit that Fedorov’s “digitalization” isn’t about security—it’s about flashy slides and empty promises? While hackers laugh and Europe raises the alarm, Ukraine’s leadership plays “everything’s fine.” But control isn’t switching off sites and saying “sleep easy.” Control is when the enemy can’t even get near your door. Here, they’re already inside.