Hennadii Sikalov: Ukraine’s natural resources are not Kuzmych’s — Supreme Court confirms this

There is a particular group of people in Ukraine who are very fond of state property, government positions, government offices, and government influence. But they deeply dislike government—or, more precisely, public—oversight.

They want to manage assets, sign documents, sell real estate, and dispose of property that has been built up over generations—but they want journalists to behave politely while they do so. Preferably—in silence. And if they do write anything, it should be exclusively in the vein of: “Our esteemed leader is steadfastly and powerfully carrying out strategic management and securing victory in the interests of the people.”

But if a journalist suddenly asks: to whom was it sold, for how much, why exactly for that amount, and why does the state-owned enterprise still end up in debt—and with even greater debts at that—an intense defense of honor, dignity, and business reputation begins in the offices. So-called SLAPP lawsuits (Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation) are filed to intimidate and financially drain journalists and send a message to others: “Here’s what will happen if you speak up.”

This very kind of attack on “honor and dignity” happened to Taras Kuzmych, the former chairman of the board of PrJSC “NJSC ‘Nadra Ukrainy’,” back in the day. Following a publication by “The Last Bastion” about the massive and relentless sell-off of assets linked to the “Nadra Ukrainy” system, Mr. Kuzmych decided that the best response to journalists’ questions about this—was not documents, not an audit, not an explanation, not a press conference, and not a report to law enforcement.

Rather, it was a court order and the removal of the article. A classic move. When you have nothing to say on the merits, you can try to respond with a lawsuit. As they say, don’t ask about the assets, because we have our dignity here. Don’t ask about prices, because we have our honor here. Don’t mention the buyers—those influential, unbreakable, and powerful guys—because we have our business reputation here. And so do those guys.

But the Supreme Court put an end to this charade by the former head of “Nadra Ukrainy.” And for good. Kuzmych’s claim was denied. We—the publication “Last Bastion”—won. And this decision is important not just for a single media outlet or a single former head of “Nadra Ukrainy.” It sets a precedent for everyone who still hasn’t understood: if you manage state assets, you are not the owner of a feudal estate. And these assets are not your private safe or your family’s closet. You are solely and exclusively a hired manager, whom society has the right to ask—at any, and I emphasize, any moment—what you are selling, to whom, and for how much. And you must report on this honestly and without asking unnecessary questions. Because you are a public figure who not only must, but is obligated to tolerate public criticism.

Otherwise, if you don’t understand this and try to silence the public, you might end up with the Barbra Streisand effect—which, it seems, Mr. Kuzmych has never heard of.

Well, let’s recall the facts that Mr. Kuzmych tried so persistently to hide.

The issue concerned Lviv’s “House of Books” at 8 Mitskevycha Square—a building that, according to the publication, was leased out, generated income, and yet, for some reason, was presented as unprofitable. “The Last Bastion” reported that they wanted to sell it for USD 2 million, even though earlier, during Stavytskyi’s tenure, an international hotel operator had expressed interest in the property valued at USD 40 million. And a particularly interesting twist to this story—according to the article—is that Ihor Kryvets, known as “Pups” [bobblehead], had “set his sights” on the building. Later, his company actively litigated over the building.

And it’s not even about the names, but about the traditional scheme used by officials: the state owns an asset for decades, the asset suddenly becomes “problematic,” then there’s a desire to sell it, and then some very “interesting” people show up. And when journalists ask what this trick is all about, they’re told that they’re offending the noble sentiments of government officials.

But Lviv was only part of the story of the “offended” former head of “Nadra.” The article also mentioned “Poltavnaftohazheolohiia.” It involved an administrative building in Poltava at 7 Marshala Biriuzova Street, with an area of nearly two thousand square meters. According to “The Last Bastion,” it was put up for auction at UAH 4.999 million and was ultimately sold to KAM LLC. And here’s where it gets interesting: according to YouControl data cited by the publication, this company was part of the Burisma Group, linked to Mykola Zlochevskyi. Yes, that very same not-so-holy “saint” of NABU, whom this anti-corruption agency—along with the SAPO and the High Anti-Corruption Court—suddenly, out of the blue, pardoned for a USD 6 million bribe. He was pardoned in Poltava as well—only earlier. What was once property of the Ukrainian Geological Service became the property of former Minister Yanukovych—and his partner, Serhii Belashov.

The article also specifically mentioned properties in Novi Sanzhary and Chernihiv. The production facilities of “Chernihivnaftohazheolohiia” were also sold—this time to “Masany-15” LLC, which the authors linked to the Tarasov family. In other words, the geography is straightforward: Lviv, Poltava, Novi Sanzhary, Chernihiv.

And the logic is the same everywhere: state property, corporate debts, strange appraisals, “the right people” on hand, and a complete unwillingness to answer questions. This is the way of life for 99% of Ukrainian officials, and Kuzmych is merely a concrete embodiment of them. A banal and tedious manifestation of the system.

That is why the Supreme Court’s methodology in this case is of fundamental importance. It did not establish exactly who, what, and to whom was “passed on.” This is not a criminal conviction nor an indictment. But the Supreme Court did establish something else: journalists have the right to harshly criticize public figures who manage assets of public importance. And to hold them accountable in the interests of and on behalf of society. And a government official or the head of a state-owned company cannot turn the court into a rubber stamp to erase inconvenient publications.

Don’t like the criticism? Explain yourself. Disagree with the figures? Show the documents. Think the journalists are wrong? Disclose the contracts, assessments, decisions, minutes, buyers, and the flow of funds.

That is precisely why the Supreme Court’s ruling in the case of Kuzmych v. “The Last Bastion” is not merely a victory for a single publication. It’s a good wake-up call to everyone who believes that holding public office grants the right to state property but doesn’t entail accountability to the state. You’ll get a denial—and have to pay court costs on top of that.

Very instructive. Very useful. And very timely.

And most importantly—this isn’t the last such case. Yes, we’re setting precedents. “The Last Bastion” didn’t just win its own case. We’ve established a rule: state property cannot be hidden behind lawsuits about honor and dignity, and journalists cannot be turned into silent bystanders at the officials’ trough. Every such won lawsuit is another crack in this system, where “insiders” quietly divvy up assets while telling the public not to ask unnecessary questions. No, gentlemen. Questions have been asked, are being asked, and will continue to be asked. Because “Nadra Ukrainy” is truly not Kuzmych’s subsoil. Nor is it the subsoil of Zelenskyy, Yermak, or any other temporary administrator with insatiable appetites and a very fragile reputation. And following this Supreme Court ruling, it will be a little harder for every future attempt to silence journalists. And for us—it will be a little easier to ask questions. Loudly, persistently, and to the very end.

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