Lustration Revisited: Should Wartime Corruption Be Treated as Treason?

In wartime Ukraine, the line between public service and national betrayal has grown thinner than ever. With the country fighting not just for territory but for its very survival, cases of corruption within government, the military and humanitarian supply chains strike at the core of national morale. As a result, there is a growing movement within Ukraine’s civil society and political discourse to revisit the concept of lustration — the vetting and purging of public officials — and ask a bold question: should corruption in wartime be treated not merely as a criminal offence, but as an act of treason?

This question is not just rhetorical. It goes to the heart of Ukraine’s effort to rebuild a functioning, trustworthy state while still engaged in a full-scale war. It pits two imperatives against one another: justice and governance. And it demands that Ukraine reckon once more with her post-Soviet legacy of institutional mistrust — this time under the unforgiving pressure of armed conflict.

The Legacy of Lustration in Ukraine

Lustration is not new to Ukraine. Following the 2014 Revolution of Dignity, Kyiv passed legislation to remove senior officials who had served under the Yanukovych regime or collaborated with Soviet security services. Although noble in intent, the process was uneven. Some saw it as a necessary cleansing of the state; others viewed it as a political tool that punished loyalty more than competence.

Since then Ukraine’s anti-corruption architecture has improved. The establishment of bodies such as the National Anti-Corruption Bureau of Ukraine (NABU) and the High Anti-Corruption Court have signalled genuine progress. Yet the scale of the challenge — and the deeply embedded nature of corruption — remains daunting.

The war has not erased these concerns. It has, instead, amplified them.

Corruption in Wartime: A Moral Betrayal

In 2023 and 2024, several high-profile scandals rocked Ukraine’s domestic politics. Inflated procurement contracts for food and uniforms. Embezzlement in reconstruction tenders. Border guards caught extorting money from conscription evaders. Each case prompted public fury and, in some instances, dismissals or criminal charges. But many Ukrainians asked — is this enough?

In a nation where every hryvnia diverted is a bullet or bandage not delivered, where soldiers die for lack of basic supplies, and where public trust underpins the nation’s war effort, wartime corruption takes on a qualitatively different character. It is not simply misuse of funds. It becomes — morally and arguably legally — a betrayal of the state under siege.

Hence the mounting calls for a new, tougher legal framework: one that classifies severe wartime corruption as treasonous conduct, with penalties to match.

Legal and Political Implications

Reclassifying corruption as treason would have serious legal implications. Ukrainian law defines treason as an act committed “to the detriment of the sovereignty, territorial integrity, or inviolability, defence capability, or state security of Ukraine.” It typically covers espionage, sabotage, or aiding the enemy. But in wartime, does the intentional theft of military resources not fall into this category?

Supporters of the idea argue:

• That wartime corruption undermines national defence, directly endangering lives.

• That it destroys international credibility, threatening critical foreign aid and partnerships.

• That it should be met with exceptional sanctions, including lifetime bans from public office, asset forfeiture, and even dishonourable discharge for military personnel.

Critics, however, raise important concerns:

• That expanding the definition of treason may lead to judicial overreach, politicisation of prosecutions, and show trials.

• That it risks undermining due process, especially if used against political opponents under the cover of war.

• That the judiciary itself, still undergoing reform, may not be ready to handle such cases with full transparency.

In short, the moral clarity of the idea collides with the institutional complexity of implementing it.

A Middle Path: Reform with Teeth

Rather than a blanket redefinition of treason, some propose an intermediate solution:

• Create a distinct class of “Wartime Abuse of Office”, with harsher penalties, expedited investigation mechanisms and public transparency mandates.

• Link such crimes with national harm assessments — measuring the damage to military readiness, international trust or civilian well-being.

• Introduce an updated form of lustration: a post-war accountability commission tasked with reviewing wartime conduct by civil servants and military officers, independent from government.

This would retain the clarity of purpose — that corruption in war is a profound violation — without overextending the term “treason” into ambiguous territory.

Lustration Revisited, But With Caution

Ukraine is not the first country to face this dilemma. Throughout history, societies at war have struggled to balance emergency justice with the preservation of institutions. But in Ukraine’s case, the stakes are unusually high. The war is not only about defeating Russia; it is about proving that Ukraine is a state worth fighting for — clean, accountable and democratic.

Revisiting lustration in this context is not a regression. It is a reaffirmation: that public service during wartime is sacred. That theft in such a moment is not just criminal — it is unforgivable.

Whether labelled treason or not, wartime corruption must be treated as an assault on the national cause. The tools to do so must be legal, fair, and uncompromising — because in Ukraine’s struggle for sovereignty, integrity is not optional. It is victory’s only foundation.

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This essay will be followed by a policy brief to the Ukrainian government, addressing legal reform options.