For nearly six years, Yermak was seen as Zelensky’s indispensable alter ego: his "right-hand man," "second in command," even his "twin brother."
He accompanied the president to almost every public appearance at home and abroad and steered the most sensitive missions, including high-stakes talks with Russia and the United States on ending the war.
But on November 28, Zelensky accepted his resignation.
The immediate trigger was a corruption scandal that has unfolded over the past three weeks at the highest levels of government.
Ukraine's independent anti-corruption bodies—the National Anti-Corruption Bureau (NABU) and the Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office (SAPO)—working under Operation Midas, unveiled wiretaps and filed charges against figures in Zelensky’s inner circle, including his longtime entertainment-industry friend Timur Mindich (codenamed "Karlson") and former Deputy Prime Minister Oleksiy Chernyshov ("Che Guevara").
Yermak does not appear on the released recordings, though such tapes are rumored to exist. Investigators reportedly assigned him the operational codename "Ali Baba."
The logic of the accusations is blunt: having built such a centralized power structure, Yermak could not have been unaware of high-level corruption and failed to report it.
He is also believed to have backed attempts in July to weaken anti-corruption agencies and strip them of key powers—efforts reversed only after the first wartime street protests and pressure from Brussels.
No formal charges have been brought against Yermak. But investigators searched his apartment the morning of November 28.
For Zelensky, cutting loose a figure so close—and so essential to the daily running of the state—must have been an emotional and political ordeal.
Their closeness was matched only by the intensity of the hostility Yermak attracted among critics. Some feared him, others owed him, and anti-corruption activists and investigative journalists accused him of nearly everything from excessive centralization to outright sabotage of institutional reform.
The core complaints focused on the concentration of power, abuses of authority and entrenched nepotism. Over time, this produced a system in which key posts across government, state-owned companies and regional administrations were filled by Yermak loyalists.
Paradoxically, explicit corruption allegations were less common. Yermak was often portrayed as more addicted to power than motivated by money.
His decision to head to the front immediately after resigning—noble as it may sound—is unlikely to dissuade NABU or SAPO from pressing ahead. The investigation has become almost personal.
Even though his fall had been widely predicted, the speed and manner of his departure surprised many.
Yermak remains legally innocent and has not been questioned. Zelensky’s move may indicate that he was presented with compelling, irrefutable evidence of wrongdoing by Yermak’s associates.
It also reflects the precarious position the president now finds himself in. Pressure for Yermak’s removal came from multiple directions: civil society activists, anti-corruption figures well connected to Ukraine’s biggest donors, and Zelensky's own parliamentary groups.
Some insiders warned of a rebellion—and threats to block legislation—if Yermak stayed.
Western partners have also long signaled their dissatisfaction. The United States raised concerns under Joe Biden's presidency, and prominent international outlets—including the Financial Times, Politico, The Times and The Economist—published scathing profiles of Yermak.
In dismissing his most powerful adviser, Zelensky shows fragility on one hand—bowing to pressure from "the street and abroad." But the move also presents a rare opportunity: to quiet critics, reset his inner circle, and reassert control with new personnel and, perhaps, a new governing style.
Whoever becomes the next "Yermak," the relationship with the president will be different—and the trust far thinner. At least for now.
Tadeusz Iwański
Tadeusz Iwański
The author is head of the Belarus, Ukraine and Moldova department at the Warsaw-based Centre for Eastern Studies (OSW). From 2006 to 2011, he worked at Polskie Radio dla Zagranicy, the Polish public broadcaster's international service.