It is tempting, but wrong, to see the crisis in Ukraine’s war leadership as a simplified tale of personal spats between the youthful Defense Minister Mykhailo Fedorov and the Soviet-trained Commander-in-Chief Oleksandr Syrskyi.
Each was clearly irritated by the other, and each has paid for it with the loss of his job, opening the way for a new C-in-C, the reformist Gen. Mykhailo Drapatyi.
But the confrontation concerned real and unavoidable issues. It was a fundamental battle over the character of the Ukrainian state and its way of war. It was never about drone procurement or digital apps; it was a battle over resource allocation, civilian oversight, and force design.
Barry Posen, the MIT political scientist whose The Sources of Military Doctrine remains the standard account of how militaries change, made an argument that still holds: armed forces do not resist new technology; they resist losing control over how resources are allocated and who decides. Personalities matter, but the substance of the confrontation is essentially institutional.
Fedorov’s tenure at the Defense Ministry brought this friction to a decision point.
His procurement reforms did not just seek to modernize Ukrainian defense spending: they challenged the General Staff’s control over how personnel, equipment, and resources were allocated. Similarly, after conducting a comprehensive performance audit of Ukraine’s 120 brigades, Fedorov’s team discovered that nearly a sixth suffered disproportionately from poor leadership and high casualty rates. His solution was pragmatic: consolidate underperforming brigades and reallocate their personnel to competent and more effective units that were chronically short of manpower.
Unsurprisingly perhaps, the General Staff resisted. The breaking point seems to have occurred when civilian reformers tried to resource innovative, technology-led units, only to find the military hierarchy prioritizing manpower for legacy formations, such as the controversial 425 Assault Regiment, which persisted in high-casualty attacks.
Fedorov originally entered the ministry with an integrated air-land-economy plan: to protect Ukrainian airspace, halt Russian advances on the ground, and attack the economic foundations of Moscow’s war effort. Taking office in January, he argued that after six months Ukraine was beginning to regain the initiative and had created an opportunity to compel Russia toward peace through force. His dismissal therefore appeared to his supporters on the streets as an interruption of a strategy that was beginning to work.
By dismissing Fedorov, President Zelenskyy underestimated Ukrainian civil society. Having seen the prospect of finally taking the fight deep into Russia through asymmetric warfare, the public believed that momentum was at risk. Just as in 2014 and 2022, citizen groups proved decisive to reset the state’s trajectory.
Zelenskyy has already made one major concession to the backlash by replacing the 61-year-old Syrskyi, but has stopped short of restoring his 35-year-old rival, Fedorov, to the Defense Ministry. Fedorov rejected Zelenskyy’s initial offer to remain as an adviser. The president has since offered the ex-minister several other positions, including deputy prime minister for military innovation. Fedorov has refused them all, arguing that only three offices genuinely determine the course of the war: the president, the defense minister, and the commander-in-chief.
Fedorov and his supporters want reinstatement. More Protests are expected.
Zelenskyy therefore faces a tough decision. The stakes could not be higher. He must preserve executive authority, while restoring street stability, and maintain the confidence of both his military leaders and his Western donors.
Whatever his decision, Ukraine’s reformers have spent years identifying the military’s weaknesses and arguing that the country must fight differently. Now, with Drapatyi in charge of the military, that reform agenda has moved from outside criticism to the highest ranks of the wartime command structure. But even the restoration of Fedorov would not guarantee success.
Both Drapatyi and Fedorov would need sustained backing from the president and parliament, along with the authority to overcome resistance within the institutions he is trying to reform. Without that mandate, his return could reproduce the confrontation that led to his initial dismissal.
Expectations must remain realistic. Drapatyi inherits a military with limited manpower, entrenched interests, and a larger enemy determined to continue the fight. He also lacks the deep institutional networks built by his predecessors. Even the best commander cannot reform mobilization, training, procurement, and force organization without sustained backing from the president and an empowered defense minister.
The reformers have won the public argument, and one of their own now commands the army. This was the easy part. Drapatyi must now prove that the reformers’ diagnosis delivers battlefield results, while Zelenskyy must decide whether to grant his military commanders full civilian backing at some cost to his own executive authority.
Maksym Beznosiuk is an analyst whose work focuses on Russia, Ukraine, and international security. He is an Associate Fellow at GLOBSEC.
William Dixon is a Senior Associate Fellow of the Royal United Services Institute and an Associate Fellow at GLOBSEC. He specializes in cyber and international security issues.
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