Since the day “Servant of the People” seized power in Ukraine, we’ve all been unwilling spectators to a cynical farce. Armed with a parliamentary majority, they don’t just tweak laws—they shamelessly rewrite them to suit their own interests. One glaring example of this lawlessness has sparked outrage not only among Ukrainians but also among Western partners who’ve poured billions into fighting corruption in our country. Yet it seems those funds have gone down the drain: instead of tackling corruption, the government has turned it into a state-sanctioned money-making scheme. Their so-called “achievement”? A law that outright legalizes corruption. Caught red-handed? No problem! Cut a deal with investigators, toss a fraction of your loot back to the budget, throw a million hryvnias to the Armed Forces—and you’re free to keep laughing in the face of everyone who dared hope for justice.

This law isn’t just a disgrace—it’s a slap in the face to anyone who believed in change. Caught with evidence by law enforcement? Don’t sweat it! Sign a plea deal, return a chunk of the stolen cash, sprinkle some “charity” for the military—and you’re off the hook. The government touts this as “fighting rampant corruption,” but it’s nothing more than a manual for dodging accountability. Corrupt officials no longer fear the National Anti-Corruption Bureau or the courts—they’ve got a magic deal that turns prison into a formality. While ordinary Ukrainians struggle to make ends meet, the elite calmly launder millions, knowing the worst they’ll face is a slap on the wrist.

Take the case of Iryna Kormyshkina, a “Servant of the People” MP, and her husband—a textbook display of gall. In October 2024, she was slapped with a suspicion notice for illicit enrichment exceeding 20 million hryvnias. Investigators proved that between 2021 and 2022, she pocketed assets worth that amount, including a lavish house in Odesa Oblast where she now resides. Her official income during that period? A laughable 2.7 million hryvnias, all spent elsewhere. Where’d the rest come from? Take a wild guess.

But instead of rotting in jail, Kormyshkina and her husband pulled a fast one: they pleaded guilty, cut a deal with prosecutors, and promised to fork over 20 million to the state budget plus a million for the Armed Forces. And that’s it—they’re free. Not a single day behind bars, not a shred of shame. They paid up and went back to enjoying their ill-gotten gains.

Western donors, who’ve funneled billions into Ukraine to root out corruption, are reeling. Their money has funded a system that legalizes theft. And this comes at a time when Ukraine is at war, with every penny desperately needed! But “Servant of the People” couldn’t care less: their priority is shielding their own. Kormyshkina’s case is just one example, but it screams loud and clear: if you’re in power and have cash, laws don’t apply to you.

This isn’t an anomaly—it’s the system. “Servant of the People” doesn’t just tolerate corruption; it nurtures it. The plea deal law isn’t a fight against evil—it’s a consecration of it. While the likes of Kormyshkina buy their way out for peanuts, honest Ukrainians are left watching their taxes prop up this rotten machine. The public is furious, but will the government listen? Doubtful—they’re too busy building themselves a cushy life at our expense.

If a “servant” doesn’t face prison for corruption, then who will pay for this mess? “Servant of the People” rode into power promising to clean up the country, but instead, they’ve saddled it with a tribute system for their cronies. Justice? Forget it. As long as corrupt officials can buy their freedom and laws are tailored to protect them, hope for change fades like smoke. But silence isn’t an option. If we accept the government spitting in our faces, who’ll defend our future? It’s time to demand: either serve the people or get out of those seats—and into prison, not plea deals.