Andriy Yermak

Based on Wikipedia: Andriy Yermak

The Green Cardinal's Fall

On the morning of November 28, 2025, anti-corruption agents raided an apartment in Kyiv. By nightfall, one of the most powerful figures in Ukrainian politics—a man who had negotiated prisoner swaps with Russia, drafted peace plans, and been called President Volodymyr Zelenskyy's "right-hand man"—was out of a job.

Andriy Yermak's dismissal wasn't just the end of a political career. It was the conclusion of a remarkable five-year run in which a former film producer became, according to many observers, the second most powerful person in a nation fighting for its survival.

From Law School to Hollywood

Yermak's path to power began conventionally enough. Born in 1971 in Soviet-era Kyiv, he grew up in a household that itself represented a kind of bridge-building. His mother Maria was Russian, from Leningrad. His father Borys was Jewish and a Kyiv native. They met when Maria's school group visited Ukraine's capital—a story that echoes the interconnected Soviet world that would later fracture so dramatically.

He studied international private law at Taras Shevchenko National University, one of Ukraine's most prestigious institutions. By his second year, a professor had already recruited him to work at a law firm called Proxen. Upon graduating in 1995, he obtained his license to practice law and soon struck out on his own, founding a firm focused on intellectual property and commercial law.

But Yermak wasn't content to remain in courtrooms and contract negotiations. In 2012, he founded the Garnet International Media Group and began producing films. One of his productions, "Rules of the Fight," dealt with martial arts—a genre that perhaps unconsciously foreshadowed the political combat ahead. His work earned him membership in both the Ukrainian Film Academy and, by 2017, the European Film Academy.

It was through this film world that fate intervened.

Meeting Zelenskyy

In 2011, Volodymyr Zelenskyy was not yet the wartime president who would become a global symbol of Ukrainian resistance. He was a comedian and television producer, serving as the general producer of Inter, one of Ukraine's major TV channels. Yermak, by then a well-connected lawyer-turned-producer, crossed paths with him.

They became friends.

This friendship would prove consequential. When Zelenskyy—in a case of life imitating art—ran for president in 2019 after playing a president on television, Yermak joined his campaign team. The comedian won in a landslide, and four days after taking office, Zelenskyy appointed his old friend as Presidential Aide for Foreign Policy Issues.

The Trump Connection

Yermak's new role immediately thrust him into an international crisis that would become known as the Trump-Ukraine scandal. He became the main point of contact between Kyiv and figures in President Donald Trump's orbit, including Kurt Volker, the U.S. Special Representative for Ukraine Negotiations, and Rudy Giuliani, Trump's personal lawyer.

The issue was politically explosive. Trump's team wanted Zelenskyy to publicly announce an investigation into Burisma, a Ukrainian energy company that had employed Hunter Biden, son of Trump's potential 2020 opponent Joe Biden. Yermak, navigating these treacherous waters, reportedly promised that Zelenskyy would make such a public pledge.

The pledge never came. Zelenskyy refused to make the public statement, and the affair spiraled into Trump's first impeachment. But through it all, Yermak had demonstrated something: he could operate at the highest levels of international diplomacy, even when the stakes were extraordinarily high.

Rise to Power

In February 2020, Zelenskyy promoted Yermak to Head of the Office of the President of Ukraine—essentially making him chief of staff. The following day, he joined the National Security and Defense Council. In this role, Yermak provided what official descriptions call "administrative, legal, consultative, advisory, media, analytical and other assistance and support to the President."

That dry bureaucratic language masked an extraordinary concentration of influence.

When Russia launched its full-scale invasion in February 2022, Yermak became a member of the Headquarters of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief—the highest command and control body for Ukraine's armed forces. A film producer was now helping direct a war.

The Green Cardinal

Politico, the influential political news outlet, dubbed Yermak "Kyiv's Green Cardinal" in 2023. The nickname was evocative. A cardinal in the Catholic Church is a high-ranking official who may wield enormous power, sometimes from behind the scenes. The modifier "green" referenced Yermak's olive-colored combat fatigues—the uniform of a nation at war.

The comparison to a religious figure wasn't coincidental. Like a cardinal, Yermak operated both in public ceremonies and in the shadows. He drafted peace plans. He influenced foreign relations. According to the Financial Times, he often acted with presidential authority.

His influence extended to military strategy. In late 2022, as Russian forces pressed toward the eastern city of Bakhmut, frontline commanders reportedly urged a strategic retreat. Yermak, according to Ukrainian officials who spoke to the Financial Times, was a major proponent of defending the city. On December 20, 2022, he accompanied Zelenskyy on a risky visit to the Bakhmut front lines—a powerful propaganda gesture but also a genuine personal risk.

By June 2023, after one of the war's bloodiest battles, Russia had captured Bakhmut. The decision to defend it remains controversial. Was it a strategic mistake that cost thousands of Ukrainian lives? Or a necessary delay that bought time for Ukraine's broader defense? Yermak's role in that decision will be debated by historians for decades.

Polarizing Figure

Power on Yermak's scale inevitably breeds controversy. The Financial Times described him as "a person of immense and polarising influence" among Ukrainians, foreign leaders, and diplomats alike. His detractors warned that he was eroding Ukraine's democratic checks and balances—concentrating too much power in the presidential office while the country's attention was fixed on the war.

In 2024, Time magazine named him to their annual list of the 100 most influential people in the world. It was a recognition of reality: few individuals outside of heads of state had as much impact on global events.

But by 2025, the tide was turning. The Kyiv Independent reported that officials said Yermak was regarded unfavorably in both European Union and American political circles. At home, his reputation was reportedly even worse.

The Anti-Corruption Reckoning

To understand Yermak's fall, one must understand Ukraine's anti-corruption apparatus. The National Anti-Corruption Bureau of Ukraine—known by its acronym NABU—is an independent law enforcement agency created in 2015 under pressure from Western partners. It operates alongside the Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor's Office, which handles legal proceedings for corruption cases.

These institutions were designed to be independent from political control. That independence became a source of tension.

In the summer of 2025, as anti-corruption investigators began targeting presidential insiders, Yermak and Zelenskyy's office supported legislation that would have placed NABU and the anti-corruption prosecutor's office under the control of the politically appointed prosecutor general. In other words, they tried to bring the corruption watchdogs to heel.

The response was explosive. Ukrainians took to the streets in the first major anti-government protests since Russia's full-scale invasion began in 2022. For a country at war, where national unity was paramount, this was a remarkable development. The European Union applied pressure. Zelenskyy reversed course.

But the anti-corruption agencies were not finished.

Operation Midas

Two weeks before Yermak's dismissal, NABU and the anti-corruption prosecutor's office announced they had dismantled what they called a criminal organization involving current and former energy officials, government ministers, and even a former deputy prime minister. The case was part of a widening investigation into an alleged $100 million energy sector corruption scandal.

The probe, dubbed Operation Midas—named for the mythological king whose touch turned everything to gold—was creeping ever closer to Zelenskyy's inner circle.

On November 28, 2025, it arrived at Yermak's door.

When NABU agents raided his apartment that morning, Yermak's remarkable run came to an end. By evening, Zelenskyy had dismissed him as head of the presidential office. On December 6, a presidential decree formally removed him from both the Headquarters of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief and the National Security and Defense Council.

The Man Behind the Power

For all his influence, Yermak remains in some ways an enigma. He has lived in Kyiv his entire life. He is single and has no children. Unlike many powerful figures, he hasn't cultivated a public persona beyond his official roles.

Before his fall, he had co-led the Yermak-McFaul Expert Group on Russian Sanctions, working with Michael McFaul, the former U.S. Ambassador to Russia, on developing strategies to economically pressure Moscow. It was the kind of high-level international work that defined his time in power—always at the nexus of diplomacy, strategy, and behind-the-scenes maneuvering.

What Yermak's Rise and Fall Reveals

Yermak's trajectory tells us something important about power in times of crisis. In a country fighting for survival, institutional constraints loosened. A former film producer could become one of the most powerful people in the land, helping direct a war and shape international diplomacy.

But it also reveals the limits of such concentration. Ukraine's Western partners—the EU, the United States—have long conditioned their support on anti-corruption reforms. They understand that corruption undermines military effectiveness, economic resilience, and democratic legitimacy. When Yermak appeared to threaten those anti-corruption institutions, alarms rang in Brussels and Washington.

The street protests showed that ordinary Ukrainians, despite the pressures of war, were willing to challenge their own government when they believed democratic principles were at stake. In a sense, the system worked—even if imperfectly, even if belatedly.

Whether Yermak himself is guilty of any wrongdoing remains to be determined by Ukraine's legal system. The raid on his apartment was part of an ongoing investigation. The full story has yet to emerge.

But his departure marks the end of an era. For five years, the Green Cardinal moved through the corridors of power in his olive fatigues, shaping Ukraine's destiny. Now, that chapter is closed. The country fights on, but without one of its most controversial and consequential figures at the center of power.