According to investigators, the scheme operated systematically. Owners of so-called “porn offices” – premises used for the illegal production and distribution of erotic and pornographic content through internet platforms – paid police commanders 20,000 US dollars per month. The intermediary retained an additional 5,000 dollars. In exchange, the officials undertook not to take any enforcement action, not to document violations, and to provide advance warning of inspections.

At least several documented episodes of money transfers were established: 45,000 dollars in February 2026, 25,000 dollars in April, and a further 25,000 dollars in May – at the moment of detention. Searches yielded a fleet of luxury vehicles, five Swiss watches, weapons, and cash in various currencies totalling over UAH 22.6 million. This is not a personal success story of the suspects. It is materialised impunity.

LEGAL QUALIFICATION

The actions of the police commanders were charged under Part 4 of Article 368 of the Criminal Code of Ukraine — receipt of unlawful benefit in an especially large amount by an official holding a responsible position, committed by a group of persons pursuant to a prior conspiracy. The sanction provides for imprisonment from eight to twelve years with confiscation of property.

The qualifying element of “prior conspiracy by a group of persons” is of fundamental importance. This is not a technical detail – it is evidence of the organised, rather than spontaneous, character of the corruption. The multiple documented episodes of money transfers point to an established criminal practice, not a one-off incident.

Separate attention should be paid to the atypical architecture of the criminal group: only commanders and a driver – i.e. the highest and lowest tiers – without an intermediate level. This either reflects a carefully constructed scheme of insulation, or signals that the middle tier has not yet been identified. This structural dissonance merits separate investigative attention.

OFFICIAL STATISTICS AS A MIRROR OF LATENCY: THE CRIME IT IS PROFITABLE NOT TO RECORD

An analysis of official police statistics concerning two core articles – keeping brothels and procuring (Article 302 of the Criminal Code) and pimping or inducing a person into prostitution (Article 303 of the Criminal Code) – reveals a stark paradox. Official data shows a steady decline in registered crimes against the backdrop of widely documented growth in the underlying practices. This is not evidence of a successful law enforcement system – it is an indicator of the system’s institutional interest in keeping this market segment invisible.

This is precisely why these categories of crime are traditionally classified as “ancillary” offences relative to human trafficking: their true scale is structurally absent from official statistics, because registration runs contrary to the interests of those tasked with registering.

The peak figures were recorded in 2014 – 509 registered crimes and 379 notices of suspicion. A sustained downward trend followed, with several characteristic deviations. In 2022, following the start of the full-scale invasion, only 61 crimes of this category were recorded – a reduction of 88% compared to the peak. In 2025 the figure stood at 54.

If interpreted literally, these data would suggest that the sexual services industry in Ukraine has virtually disappeared. Reality, as documented by investigative journalism, tells the opposite story: frontline cities have become regional hubs for sexual services, with clearly structured pricing – from 30–40 euros for a “massage” to 200 euros for trips to the combat zone. Demand has grown, the market has transformed, yet none of this appears in official statistics. Because it is profitable for other people in uniform.

The dynamics under Article 303 differ somewhat but follow the same logic. After notable growth in 2017–2018 (412 crimes — the maximum for the entire period studied), figures fall again: 195 crimes in 2022, 244 in 2024, 171 in 2025. The temporary increase in 2023 (348 crimes) can be explained by a partial restoration of law enforcement functions and the dislocation of criminal networks to safer territories, but by no means by any genuine increase in this type of crime.

LATENCY AS A STRUCTURAL PHENOMENON: CRIMES TURNED INTO BUSINESS

Crimes in the sphere of sexual services are classic examples of structural latency – a condition in which crime is systematically not recorded not because it is absent, but because its registration is contrary to the interests of law enforcement. Classical criminology distinguishes natural latency (the victim does not report) from artificial latency (law enforcement conceals the crime). In the case of the “porn-rent” corruption exposed on 20 May 2026, we are dealing with the second type – institutionalised and monetised.

The mechanism is simple and robust.

First, the victims and participants in such crimes have their own interest in avoiding police attention – they are either themselves administrative offenders, or they depend on “protection”.

Second, police commanders, receiving regular payments for “non-interference”, do not merely look the other way passively – they actively suppress any attempts by subordinates to document these violations. Official statistics reflect not the actual state of crime, but the result of this active filtering.

Consider the “suspicion rate” indicator – the share of registered crimes for which a notice of suspicion has been issued. Under Article 302, it fluctuates between 64.3% (2016) and 94.4% (2025). This means that those cases which do make it into the statistics are investigated with reasonable effectiveness. The paradox lies elsewhere: only a small fraction of actual crimes are registered – predominantly those arising from competitive conflicts between market actors.

The statistical collapse of 2022 – a drop to 61 registered crimes under Article 302 – is telling. It coincided not with the disappearance of the market, but with Russia’s full-scale invasion. Law enforcement resources were redirected, traditional “protection rackets” were partially disrupted. But the market was not. The Kramatorsk hub, described in detail by investigative journalists, emerged precisely as an adaptation to new geographical and social conditions.

QUANTITATIVE DIMENSION OF THE HIDDEN SCALE

The true extent of latency can be estimated by cross-referencing several indicators. According to research estimates, the latency coefficient for prostitution-related crimes ranges from 1:10 to 1:50 in various countries – meaning that for every registered crime, between 10 and 50 go unregistered. Even applying the conservative multiplier of 1:10 yields a picture sharply at odds with official data: if 54 crimes under Article 302 were registered in 2025, the actual number of such instances may have reached 540 to 2,700 per year.

These estimates are consistent with the demographic logic: Ukraine in 2025 has over 25 million residents in government-controlled territories, a significant proportion of whom are internally displaced persons – predominantly women in extremely precarious economic circumstances. The combination of large-scale demographic vulnerability and weakened institutional control is a classic environment for the expansion of an unregulated sexual services market. Official statistics do not capture this process – they capture the size of the corruption shield that conceals it.

A further indicator is the structure of the online market. According to market participants’ estimates, approximately 90% of online sexual services advertisements are fraudulent (scams), which itself evidences the broad presence of organised criminal groups in the online segment. Organised crime, oriented towards large-scale and systematic profit, requires systematic “cover”. This is precisely the corruption rent we observe in the case of 20 May 2026.

THE CORE THESIS: PROHIBITION AS A GENERATOR OF CORRUPTION RENT

The systemic bribery exposed on 20 May 2026 is not a consequence of the personal immorality of particular police officers. It is a direct and foreseeable consequence of the state’s prohibition on the legitimate operation of adult content online platforms.

Any prohibition of profitable but technically feasible activity in conditions of mass demand creates a rent space: the market moves underground but does not disappear. Platforms such as OnlyFans are publicly accessible without registration, operate around the clock, and any person can use them without any real restrictions from the state. The prohibition, in other words, is de facto non-operational and incapable of operation.

Instead, it creates a legal lever for coercion: since the activity is “illegal”, law enforcement officials acquire the monopoly power to decide – to prosecute or to “overlook”. This discretion converts into money. This is precisely how corruption rent arises – a regular payment for non-prosecution of that which the state formally prohibits but is factually incapable of blocking.

Here an entirely absurd paradox of public administration emerges. On the one hand, the state attempts to tax women engaged in such activity. On the other hand, it classifies this very same activity as a crime and prosecutes the same women criminally. The result is the creation of ideal conditions for unlimited police racketeering. Would such systemic bribery have occurred if the operation of such platforms had been legalised? Obviously not. The state itself created the conditions for the commission of these crimes.

The criminalisation of online erotic platforms, contrary to its declared objective of eradicating them, effectively pushes them deeper into the shadows – to a place where there is no legal oversight whatsoever, where women are left entirely unprotected, and where the preconditions for direct sexual exploitation arise. Law enforcement officials occupied with collecting corruption rent objectively have neither the time nor the motivation to combat genuinely dangerous forms of crime — trafficking, forced prostitution, child pornography.

THE SYSTEMIC DIMENSION

The intermediary in the scheme was the personal driver of the Deputy Minister of Internal Affairs. This is not a peripheral detail – it is a structural node of the entire construction. A driver is a person with constant physical access to a senior official, with unrecorded informal contacts, and with the capacity to conduct a parallel business life in the shadow of an official status. The question that inevitably arises: how far does the chain extend? No public suspicion has been directed at the Deputy Minister himself, but the mere fact that his immediate entourage proved to be the hub of a multi-oblast corruption network raises obvious institutional questions that cannot be ignored.

The scheme covered three regions simultaneously. This is not a local phenomenon and not a coincidence. It is either evidence of centralised coordination through a single intermediary, or – even more worrying – a sign of a widespread market practice in which regional police commanders independently and separately enter the market for protecting illegal businesses.

The case unfolds in the context of a full-scale war, and this gives it a qualitatively different dimension. Regional police department heads are not merely administrators. They are officials with access to operational information, accounting systems, security chains, and contacts with the SBU and military administration. A person who takes bribes and is dependent on a criminal business is a vulnerability in the country’s security system. In wartime, this is not merely corruption – it is a threat to national security.

The statistical data presented above confirm the systemic, rather than episodic, character of this phenomenon. If “protection rackets” were an isolated deviation, we would observe chaotic fluctuations in the statistics. Instead, we see a smooth downward registration trajectory with a clear correlation to general system stresses (the 2020 pandemic, the full-scale invasion of 2022) — and rapid recovery thereafter. This is structure, not accident.

A REGULATORY ALTERNATIVE

It is necessary to move away from artificial moralising and to frame the question in its real dimension: what specific moral harm has the existence of the relevant web platforms inflicted on Ukrainian society – and what moral harm has their protection by police inflicted? The answer is obvious.

The legalisation and regulation of online sex platforms is not a moral choice. It is an anti-corruption strategy. Its logic is simple: lawful activity does not require protection from the police — it is protected by law. The rent space disappears, and with it the corruption incentive.

Regulation, rather than prohibition, makes it possible to protect the rights of industry participants, introduce age and consent verification, tax revenues, and refocus law enforcement resources on real crimes — trafficking, coercion, child pornography. To speak of prohibition and criminal prosecution of something that exists completely openly, that requires no registration and operates 24/7, is entirely absurd. The state has discredited itself through the exposure of this scheme.

Statistical analysis confirms this conclusion methodologically. If over 13 years official statistics show an unvarying decline in crimes in a sphere that is clearly not declining in reality – this is not a problem with the offenders. It is a problem with the legal model, which generates structural latency and corruption rent instead of genuine protection.

One can predictably expect that, once the initial resonance fades, yesterday’s moralists in uniform will begin to speak of the need for legalisation – precisely because their own system for protecting illegal businesses has proven vulnerable. Society should take note of those voices and verify whether real reformist will stands behind them.

CONCLUSIONS

This case is more than a criminal scandal. It is a mirror of a systemic crisis generated by the convergence of three factors: an artificial prohibition that creates a corruption market; the structural latency of crimes that serves this prohibition; and the absence of real internal oversight within the law enforcement system.

Statistical data for 2013–2025 testify not to the success of efforts to combat crime in the sphere of sexual services, but to a persistent and systemic practice of concealing it from registration. The 88% decline in registered crimes under Article 302 of the Criminal Code and the 58% decline under Article 303 occurred in conditions where actual market volumes, by all independent estimates, were not shrinking — and in certain sub-periods were growing. This is materialised latency.

The true test of intentions will not be the arrests, but the verdicts. Even more telling will be whether this case prompts a systemic review of oversight mechanisms for regional police commanders, or whether it remains another signal after which the system reverts to its customary state.

Without structural changes — decriminalisation of online platforms, audit of the internal oversight system, refocusing of law enforcement resources on serious crimes, and a methodological revision of approaches to measuring latent crime — the next such scheme will be only a matter of time. And society will again pay for it — in money, security, and trust in the state at its most critical hour.

The weapon used by the gunman was officially registered, and he himself held the relevant permits. According to journalists’ reports, the man turned out to be a lieutenant-colonel in the Russian Armed Forces – a native of Moscow with Ukrainian citizenship – who, according to some sources, had made donations in support of the so-called ‘special military operation’. According to preliminary information, he had already attacked people in the same shop three years earlier. Neighbours say he moved into the building at the start of the full-scale invasion.

These facts form a chilling picture, but our task is not to inflame emotions – it is to try to answer, calmly and honestly, the questions that this tragedy inevitably poses to society, the law enforcement system and the rule of law.

WEAPONS, LICENCES AND THE ILLUSION OF SAFETY

The first and most obvious conclusion that springs to mind is that this crime was committed using a legally registered weapon. This is not a mere detail but a fundamentally important circumstance that undermines one of the central arguments of those lobbying for the free circulation of firearms: ‘Legal Weapons = Safety’.

The debate over the liberalisation of the firearms market in Ukraine has raged for years, but it intensified particularly in the context of the full-scale war, when a section of society and a number of lawmakers began insisting on enshrining the right to bear arms in the constitution, citing the need for self-defence and patriotic duty. The tragedy in Korsun polarised society at the time: many people sympathised with the man who had used a weapon against law enforcement officers – which in itself is symptomatic and alarming.

The current case is fundamentally different. Here there is no ‘people’s avenger’ or ‘Korsun Robin Hood’, nor is there any hint of social conflict with the system. There is a retired lieutenant-colonel who shoots peaceful supermarket shoppers with a legally registered pistol. It is precisely this circumstance that should settle the debate: not ‘who’ commits the crime or what their ideology is, but the fact that Ukraine’s system for issuing firearms licences is structurally incapable of filtering out those who harbour hidden destructive intentions. Screening during the registration of firearms has proved futile. Previous attacks on people in the same shop did not lead to the licence being revoked. The system failed.

Here, however, we must refrain from oversimplification. The people’s right to resist tyranny remains a fundamental principle of constitutional theory and international legal tradition. The question is not whether a citizen has the right to defend themselves, but whether the state is capable of responsibly managing the circulation of weapons in conditions of hybrid warfare, social trauma and the psychological instability of the population. The answer provided by this tragedy is – not yet.

NEGOTIATIONS, DE-ESCALATION AND COMMUNICATION FAILURE

For around 40 minutes, negotiators attempted to establish contact with the attacker, but he did not respond. “He did not make contact. I did not hear him,” noted the head of the negotiation unit at the Kyiv National Police.

This is a key detail that requires separate analysis. Forty minutes is both a long time and a short time. For negotiators, this is a relatively brief period in tactical terms. But the very fact of a complete lack of any response from the attacker indicates not only his pathological determination, but also a fundamental problem: were these forty minutes used with genuinely professional techniques for engaging a person in crisis? Does our police force even have the necessary level of training for negotiators capable of working with people who have crossed a psychological threshold?

Today, a dangerous mindset prevails among some Ukrainian police officers: ‘Shoot First – Sort It Out Later’. This mindset has gained further momentum in a wartime environment, where violence is normalised and the right to use force is interpreted far more broadly than provided for by law and human rights standards. The Kyiv tragedy, like many before it, risks becoming not a catalyst for reform but a confirmation of this flawed logic. Meanwhile, the ECtHR consistently emphasises that when assessing the lawfulness of the use of lethal force, account must be taken not only of the actions of the perpetrators but also of all the surrounding circumstances – in particular, planning and control (Mikhalkova and Others v. Ukraine, para. 36; McCann and Others v. the UK [GC], para. 150). The legislative and administrative framework must clearly define the limited circumstances in which law enforcement officers may use firearms, and police officers must not be left in a state of uncertainty regarding these limits (Soare and Others v. Romania, para. 129).

The true measure of police effectiveness is the ability to resolve critical situations without resorting to lethal force. It is in this direction that modern policing is developing in democratic countries, where officers acquire skills honed over years in de-escalation, psychological influence and – only in extreme cases – the use of weapons. The ECtHR in Soare and Others v. Romania explicitly stated that the absence of clear rules and proper training explains the inadequate and autonomous actions of police officers in critical situations (para. 135). And in Celniku v. Greece, the Court held that Article 2 of the ECHR covers not only the direct actions of police officers but also staff training: if the level of training does not correspond to the complexity of the tasks at hand, the state bears responsibility.

NEUTRALISATION OF THE ATTACKER: ARTICLE 2 OF THE ECHR AND THE RIGHT TO LIFE

Minister of Internal Affairs Ihor Klymenko stated that KORD special forces carried out a raid and neutralised the attacker. During the assault, the perpetrator resisted law enforcement officers and opened fire on them.

In the acute phase of a crisis, when a person is actively shooting at police officers, the use of lethal force is formally justified even under the strict standards of Article 2 of the Convention.

The ECtHR, in cases such as McCann and Others v. United Kingdom, Nachova v. Bulgaria and Finogenov v. Russia, has consistently developed the criterion of ‘absolute necessity’: the state is obliged to prove that the person’s death was the result of force that did not exceed what was absolutely necessary in the specific circumstances. At the same time, as explained in McCann and Others v. the UK [GC] (para. 200), the use of force is justified only where the agents genuinely believed that opening fire was necessary and had subjectively sufficient grounds for doing so — rather than merely following orders.

The standard of ‘absolute necessity’ is stricter than the criterion of ‘necessary in a democratic society’ under Articles 8 and 11 of the ECHR: force must be strictly proportionate (Jaloud v. the Netherlands [GC], para. 199; Kelly and Others v. the UK, para. 93). In a situation involving the rescue of a hostage from an armed criminal offering active resistance, these conditions may be met — but this still requires verification.

But this is precisely where the issue begins that most commentators prefer to sidestep. The state is obliged to conduct an effective independent investigation into whether there really was no other tactical option. Were all possibilities for a non-violent resolution of the situation exhausted? Was the timing of the assault correctly chosen? Is every shot fired by KORD officers documented and justified? The ECtHR in Al-Skeini and Others v. the UK [GC] (para. 163) and Armani Da Silva v. the UK [GC] (para. 233) clearly stated: the investigation must cover not only the immediate actions of those carrying out the operation but also the planning and control of the operation as a whole; it must be capable of establishing whether the use of force was justified. Any shortcoming that undermines this capability constitutes a violation of the procedural aspect of Article 2 of the ECHR. A telling example is the case of Finogenov and Others v. Russia (Operation ‘Nord-Ost’), where the Court found a violation precisely because of the incompleteness and bias of the investigation.

In the context of Ukraine during a full-scale invasion, a public demand for an investigation into the circumstances of the death of a man who had just killed six civilians sounds critically unpopular. But this is precisely the essence of the rule of law: Article 2 of the ECHR protects the right to life not only of the criminal’s victims, but also of the criminal himself. Without this principle, the entire human rights framework becomes a situational compromise of the majority, rather than a system of universal guarantees. Article 2 of the ECHR imposes a positive obligation on the state not only to refrain from the intentional deprivation of life, but also to take preventive measures to protect persons within its jurisdiction (Yuriy Illarionovich Shchokin v. Ukraine, para. 35). A general legal prohibition on arbitrary deprivation of life becomes ineffective without an effective review procedure: this is precisely how the Court formulated it in Giuliani and Gaggio v. Italy [GC] (para. 249) and Al-Skeini and Others v. the UK [GC] (para. 163). Andronicou and Constantinou v. Cyprus demonstrates that even a hostage rescue operation resulting in the death of a perpetrator may be deemed lawful – but only provided that planning was carried out with a view to minimising risk, negotiations were conducted rationally, and the operatives had clear instructions to use only proportionate force (para. 194).

Furthermore, there is a purely practical argument: a lieutenant-colonel in the Russian Armed Forces who had lived in Ukraine, made donations to the ‘SVO’ and ultimately carried out a mass shooting – this was a source of information of exceptional value to counter-intelligence. His motives, connections, possible handlers and funding channels could all have been established during interrogations. His elimination has permanently shut down that channel.

THE DANGER OF ‘SECURITY’ DISCOURSE AND HUMAN RIGHTS

This tragedy will inevitably give rise to legislative initiatives. Some will be aimed at tightening controls on the circulation of weapons — and this is justified and necessary. But others — and this is where alarm bells should ring — will use this incident to justify expanding the police apparatus, intensifying preventive surveillance and legalising ‘proactive’ operational measures.

This mechanism is well known in human rights practice: a terrorist attack or large-scale crime becomes a ‘window of opportunity’ for the state to expand its powers in areas where citizens would not normally permit such intrusion. Laws passed ‘in the heat of the moment’ are, as a rule, not repealed even after the shock has passed.

The right to private and family life, guaranteed by Article 8 of the ECHR, the right to the protection of personal data, the right not to be subject to preventive police surveillance without sufficient grounds – all these guarantees are under threat whenever society experiences a sudden surge of fear. The standard of ‘necessary in a democratic society’ under Article 8 of the ECHR is less stringent than the criterion of ‘absolutely necessary’ under Article 2, but even this does not permit the state to introduce widespread preventive surveillance without individual grounds and judicial oversight. The task of the human rights community, the legal profession and the academic community is to ensure that a single tragedy does not become a justification for systemic restrictions on rights that will affect millions of people who have no connection whatsoever to the crime.

POLICE TRAINING

A dangerous trend that has long been brewing within the Ukrainian police has now gained new momentum: a readiness to use weapons before establishing the facts. The tragedy of 18 April risks becoming not a warning but a justification for this logic – and it is currently extremely difficult to assess the true scale of such a shift.

That is precisely why this case must serve as a compelling argument in favour of a systematic review of police training – but not in the direction of improving marksmanship or physical skills. We are talking about something fundamentally different: training officers in the art of communication, the ability to defuse tension in real time and the professional application of de-escalation techniques.

The true measure of the effectiveness of a modern police force is the ability to resolve critical situations without violence. The shift from a punitive model to one of dialogue and professional restraint is not romanticism but a practical necessity. This is where the future of Ukraine’s law enforcement system lies.

CONCLUSIONS

This tragedy presents a multi-layered challenge. For society, it is a call for restraint amidst emotional pressure and the temptation of simplistic answers. For legislators, it is a challenge to draft regulations that genuinely enhance safety without becoming instruments of punitive bureaucracy. For the police, it is a mirror in which they must see not their own heroism but their systemic shortcomings in training, de-escalation and tactical flexibility. For human rights defenders, it is a reminder that the protection of human rights cannot be conditional: either it applies to everyone, or it does not exist as a principle.

Six families are mourning their loved ones. This is an undeniable reality, and it takes precedence. But the appropriate response to these deaths is not a new wave of police aggression or a flurry of emotional legislation – it is a systematic, dispassionate and honest analysis of where the system failed, and how to fix it without losing our humanity.

Angela Lipps, a 50-year-old grandmother and mother of three, spent over five months behind bars after Fargo (North Dakota) police linked her to bank frauds committed in a state where, by her own account, she had never been. It was only after her extradition to North Dakota that her lawyer discovered bank records confirming that Lipps had been in Tennessee at the time the crimes were committed. The charges were dropped on 23 December, and she was released on Christmas Eve.

This case calls for a much deeper analysis than simply noting yet another algorithmic failure. It demonstrates a structural pattern inherent in every era of technological transformation in criminal justice: a new identification tool is introduced with enthusiasm and uncritical trust, supplanting tried-and-tested methods of establishing facts, whilst specific individuals become the victims of systemic errors. To see this pattern for oneself, one need only look at a case that took place over 120 years ago in London.

THE CASE OF ADOLF BECK: ANATOMY OF AN IDENTIFICATION ERROR AT THE TURN OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY

In 1896, the Norwegian national Adolf Beck was convicted by the Central Criminal Court of London (the Old Bailey) for a series of frauds against women — allegedly, posing as a lord, he would approach them on the street, promise expensive gifts, and steal their jewellery. The verdict was based almost exclusively on witness testimony: the victims identified Beck unanimously. Moreover, the police established that similar crimes had been committed in 1877 by a person using the same modus operandi — and this old case was attributed to Beck without sufficient grounds.

After serving five years of his sentence, Beck was released in 1901 — only to find himself back in custody in 1904 on identical charges. And once again: confident, unanimous eyewitness testimony. And once again: an innocent man. The real offender — William Thomas, operating under the alias John Smith — was apprehended only by chance: he committed yet another fraud after Beck’s second arrest and was caught in the act. Beck was released and pardoned. The total duration of his wrongful imprisonment amounted to approximately seven years.

What allowed this miscarriage of justice to occur not once but twice? The answer lies in the institutional attitude towards the new identification paradigm. The late nineteenth century was the era of what was then called ‘scientific policing’: Bertillon’s anthropometry, later fingerprinting, and systematised procedures for questioning witnesses. Eyewitnesses no longer simply ‘recognised’ a suspect — they participated in a procedure that carried the trappings of scientific rigour. The procedural authority of identification became self-sufficient evidence requiring no verification. Beck’s alibis were not seriously investigated precisely because ‘scientific’ identification appeared more reliable than any exculpatory counter-evidence.

The Beck case had significant legal consequences: in 1907, the Court of Criminal Appeal was established in England — directly as an institutional response to the demonstrated inability of the system to self-correct in cases involving identification errors.

STRUCTURAL PARALLELS: TECHNOLOGICAL DETERMINISM AND FAILURES OF PROOF

A comparison of the Beck and Lipps cases reveals a striking structural isomorphism, suggesting a consistent pattern rather than mere coincidence.

First, in both cases the identification technology was introduced into law enforcement practice without proper validation and without established standards for its admissibility. The Fargo police chief admitted at a press conference that the department had acquired its own facial recognition system ‘without the knowledge of senior management’ and without agreed protocols for its use. ‘We would not have allowed this to be used,’ he stated, noting that the system has since been prohibited. In the Beck case, systematic in-person identification was similarly introduced as a tool of ‘progress’ without adequate consideration of its inherent limitations.

Second, in both cases alibis or counter-evidence were available from the outset but were not properly investigated, due to excessive reliance on the identification outcome. Lipps’s lawyers emphasised that ‘the police officer used facial recognition as a substitute for basic investigation’ and that ‘no investigation was carried out to establish whether she was even in North Dakota at the relevant time’. The word ‘substitute’ is key: the technology did not supplement traditional investigative methods — it replaced them.

Third, in both cases the institutional machinery continued to move by inertia even after the first signs of error appeared. The police received information about potentially exculpatory evidence as early as 12 December, yet a substantive response — involving the investigator, the prosecutor, and the judge — did not follow until 23 December, more than five months after the arrest.

Fourth, the legal consequences for the victims proved catastrophic beyond the scope of the criminal proceedings themselves. For Beck, prolonged detention destroyed his reputation and social standing. For Lipps, ‘the trauma, loss of liberty and reputational damage cannot be easily remedied’, her lawyers state, noting that they are considering bringing civil rights claims.

This parallel points to a central theoretical problem: why do such errors recur with each technological shift in the identification paradigm? The answer lies in what might be called technological determinism in evidence law — the tendency, once a new tool acquires ‘scientific’ status, to treat it as a priori superior to traditional forms of evidence. This cognitive bias is reinforced by a structural asymmetry: the flaws of traditional methods (eyewitness testimony, documentary records) are well known and openly discussed, whereas the flaws of the new tool remain systematically invisible until the first high-profile scandal.

PROCEDURAL AND NORMATIVE DIMENSIONS

The Lipps case highlights several normative questions long debated in the doctrine of criminal procedure, which have taken on new urgency with the widespread introduction of AI into law enforcement.

The first is the admissibility standard for algorithmic evidence. The result of Clearview AI’s facial recognition served as the basis for issuing an arrest warrant with inter-state extradition — without any verification by an independent competent authority.

The second concerns procedural safeguards when using automated systems. The ‘human-in-the-loop’ principle has gained widespread formal recognition, yet the Lipps case demonstrates its practical erosion: a human is technically present, but their role is reduced to relaying the algorithmic output without critical scrutiny. ‘The detectives mistakenly assumed that they had also been sent photographs from the scene along with the identification conclusion,’ the police chief admitted — describing a process in which even the minimal verification step nominally built into the procedure was bypassed by those captivated by the authority of the algorithm.

The third concerns remedial justice. The police chief declined to apologise, citing an ongoing investigation into a ‘wide network of individuals’. This stance is symptomatic: institutional denial of responsibility is as much a structural component of the pattern as the original error.

CONCLUSIONS: THE PERPETUAL RACE BETWEEN TECHNOLOGY AND THE LAW OF EVIDENCE

The Lipps case is neither an anomaly nor the product of purely individual negligence. It is the predictable outcome of an incomplete institutional understanding of a new identification paradigm. One hundred and thirty years separate the Adolf Beck case from the Angela Lipps case, yet the nature of the error is unchanged. Technological innovation alters only the instrument; the first victims are always those whose alibi proves ‘less convincing’ than the authority of an identification system that has not yet stood the test of time.

For the doctrine of evidence law, the Lipps case reaffirms that proven reliability, reproducibility of results, and independent verification must remain the constant criteria for the admissibility of evidence, regardless of the technological nature of the tool. The foundational principle — that no evidence is self-sufficient and that all evidence must be tested in adversarial proceedings — is not superseded by the advent of artificial intelligence. On the contrary: the more powerful the tool, the stricter the procedural framework governing its use must be.

The genuine novelty of our era lies not in the fact that algorithms make mistakes — all identification systems do — but in the fact that the pace and scale of their deployment are outrunning the development of legal safeguards against their errors.

That said, the bill’s authors proved flexible: if a citizen genuinely wants to hear a foreign voice on the line, they can personally notify their operator of this unorthodox wish. In other words, silence from the outside world becomes the default, and the desire to hear it becomes an administrative act of personal courage. What was perfectly ordinary just yesterday—receiving a call from relatives abroad — will tomorrow become a privilege reserved for those who took the trouble to submit a request.

It should also be noted that the rule will not apply to numbers from the Union State — meaning Belarus remains accessible. The rest of the world does not. The geography of trust, as we can see, is clearly defined.

Now for the most interesting part.

The official justification for the law is the fight against telephone scammers who call from abroad and swindle money from the elderly. The problem is certainly real and acute. But this raises a delicate question: what will happen to the domestic fraud sector, which, according to Russian law enforcement officials themselves, is thriving just as vigorously and, unlike its foreign competitors, calls exclusively from numbers with the +7 code?

The logic of the law, if you think about it, runs something like this: we cannot allow a grandmother from Ryazan to fall victim to some scoundrel from Kyiv or Warsaw — that would be an affront to national dignity. But if that same pensioner hands over her savings to a “bank security officer” from Nizhny Novgorod — that is purely an internal matter, a private arrangement between citizens of the same state.

The state, in this way, carefully protects domestic producers from unfair foreign competition. Protectionism in its purest form — only instead of tariffs, a legislative blockade against outside challengers.

It is also worth considering the aesthetics of this decision.

The Iron Curtain of the Soviet era closed the borders to people — it prevented them from leaving. The new, digital and telephonic curtain operates more subtly: it simply prevents anyone from calling in. Bodies may remain wherever they are, but the information space is neatly contracted to the confines of the Union State, plus whatever one declares to one’s operator.

It is telling that the measures specifically target landline phones and people over 60—that is, those most dependent on their home telephone as their primary window to the world. Young people have long communicated via messaging apps — those have not been shut down yet (though, judging by the pace, their turn will come). But the grandmother with a rotary-dial phone in the kitchen — she is now “protected.” In the sense of “protection” that is difficult to distinguish from isolation.

All that remains is to wish the bill’s authors consistency.

If foreign scammers are dangerous — shut down the internet too. If foreign news distorts reality — it has largely been shut down already. If foreign words pollute the language — there are lawmakers with precisely such bills in hand. If foreign air carries unwanted ideas…

We will stop there. The State Duma has no shortage of inspiration as it is.

There is a particular kind of academic ‘stagnation’: when a phenomenon is so vast and so obvious that the scientific apparatus grinds to a halt, not knowing where to begin. The self-isolation of modern Russia is precisely such a case. It has long since gone beyond the concept of a ‘carceral state’ — and even this concept, which until recently seemed a sufficiently broad analytical category, increasingly resembles a pair of clothes that are too tight, worn over something much larger and clumsier.

However, before resorting to mid-level theories, it is worth turning to the classics. Yevgeny Schwartz, in his play ‘To Kill the Dragon’ (1944), depicted a mechanism that is instantly recognisable in modern Russia: The Dragon does not merely set the rules—it sets reality. Windows that look outward are dangerous not because an enemy might enter through them, but because through them the inhabitants might see something the Dragon did not foresee. Therefore — close them. Methodically, systematically, citing regulations.

The digital dimension of this narrative demands separate attention. Over the two decades of the Putin regime, Russia has cultivated the illusion of openness in the digital space — as a kind of safety valve that relieves social pressure. This is the essence of what might be called ‘anesthesia of consumption’: citizens are allowed to read whatever they want — and so they take to the streets less often. When the real pressure became too great, the safety valve was shut off.

On February 20, 2026, Russian dictator Vladimir Putin signed a law requiring telecommunications operators to suspend services at the request of the FSB — without any judicial oversight. Ten days later, the law took effect. Starting March 6, 2026, Moscow residents reported widespread mobile network outages. On March 14, the ‘whitelist’ system was activated — a set of resources accessible during the blackout. The list included: government portals, state-controlled platforms (VK, Yandex), food delivery services, and banking apps. The following were deliberately excluded from the list: independent media, foreign news resources, and any tools for verifying reality.

To paraphrase Schwartz: how many open windows do we have? All of them are open. We don’t know any limits. Well then, we’ll close the open windows. The technical implementation of the dragon’s monologue turned out to be simple and elegant: a person can order a pizza, pay a bill, call a taxi — but cannot find out why the connection is down, what’s happening in the city, or consult with anyone outside official channels. The state does not deprive a person of pizza delivery. It deprives a person of the ability to know that pizza delivery and the FSB are now part of the same infrastructure.

The phenomenology of voluntary isolation is not without its cultural artifacts. In this context, an event that a strict researcher would not even notice takes on particular analytical significance — but one that strikingly and accurately illustrates the mechanism of normalization. On the show “Field of Miracles” (“Channel One”), the children’s vocal ensemble “Komilfo” (Volgograd) performed a song about the benefits of disconnecting from the internet. The young performers — with all the immediacy of a child’s voice — conveyed to the audience that in the absence of blogs and channels, they are forced to play badminton, that this is a “terrible dream,” and at the same time: “We don’t want to, we don’t want to, you won’t catch us in the net, we won’t sit, we won’t sit on your internet”.

This song is, perhaps, the most accurate cultural document of the era. It fully reproduces the Dragon’s logic: truth reformatted as desire. The children aren’t forced — they want the windows closed. They aren’t deprived of the internet — they themselves refuse the network. Normalization is complete when the victim internalizes the restrictions to such an extent that they begin to consider them their own choice. This is the true surgery of control—when the stitched wound leaves no scars.

At the same time, the propaganda pedagogy revealed a characteristic ambivalence: the “terrible dream” in the song’s lyrics is a metaphor specifically for disconnecting from the internet, not for its presence. That is, the children sing about how bad it is without the internet — and at the same time assert that they don’t want to be on it. This contradiction, of course, is not acknowledged by the authors themselves. But it is symptomatic: second-generation propaganda is no longer capable of sustaining even its own internal logic.

The self-isolation of Russian society, thus, is not merely a political fact — it is a performance. The regime enacts the closing of windows, society enacts the enjoyment of darkness, and children sing songs about how the sun was superfluous anyway. If Shvartsovsky’s Dragon were to read contemporary analytical reports, he could only shake his head: why intimidate when you can teach people to love the cage? Why ban windows if you can convince people that they were never open to begin with?

The answer to this question leaves us with a bleak but analytically honest conclusion: the prison state as a concept is already too anthropocentric. It presupposes a prisoner who knows he is a prisoner. Contemporary Russia has gone further — toward a society that perceives bars as an architectural feature and sings children’s songs in their defense. To call this a “prison state” is to underestimate the scale of the phenomenon. To call it a “dystopia” is still to appeal to the reader’s imagination. Perhaps the most accurate name is simply: The Dragon Lives. And the windows are closing.

This article develops the conceptual model of “two-phase authoritarianism,” in which coercion gives way to temptation in the first phase, so that by the second — once society has already been stripped of its means of resistance — the transition to totalitarianism becomes technically and politically feasible. The events of March 2026 in Moscow — the activation of “whitelists” of permitted internet resources during a deliberate shutdown of mobile communications — serve as a marker of that transition.

An important theoretical instrument actively deployed by authoritarian governments to legitimize control over the internet is the concept of “digital sovereignty.” Originally developed in democratic contexts as a safeguard against the monopolistic practices of transnational platforms, it has been repurposed by Russia, China, and kindred regimes to justify the state’s right to shut down, filter, and reshape the information environment. “Sovereign internet,” in this reading, is not a right of citizens to secure communications — it is the state’s right to determine which communications are possible at all.

PHASE ONE: THE SOCIAL CONTRACT OF MANAGED CONSUMPTION

The first stage of the two-phase model spans roughly the first two decades of Vladimir Putin’s rule. It is defined by a specific social contract that can be stated simply: the state does not interfere with consumption — society does not interfere with governance.

The mechanism of this contract is well documented. Oil revenues in the 2000s and early 2010s allowed Russia’s middle class to access Western standards of consumption: shopping malls, foreign travel, smartphones, and streaming services. Simultaneously, independent media, judicial independence, and electoral competition were systematically dismantled — but in a manner calibrated so that the majority of the population did not feel the direct material consequences.

Scholars have termed this phenomenon “welfare authoritarianism” or “pleasure authoritarianism“: a regime that sustains its legitimacy not through ideological mobilization but by ensuring a rising level of consumption. Citizens trade participation in public life for a guarantee of private comfort, and consider the exchange acceptable so long as that comfort persists.

The digital dimension of this contract was fundamental. Russia in the first decade of the century had a comparatively open internet. YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter — all were freely accessible. Blocked sites were marginal in number and in public consciousness. This “internet freedom” functioned as a partial substitute for the real-world freedom that had been quietly removed: people could read what they wished and, therefore, took to the streets less often.

The regime deliberately cultivated the illusion of openness in the digital space — as a pressure valve for social discontent. When real-world pressure grew too acute, the valve was closed. This observation recurs across numerous analyses of the evolution of the Russian internet, and it is accurate.

THE BREAK: FEBRUARY 2022 AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

The full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 shattered this contract on several fronts simultaneously. First, international sanctions and the voluntary withdrawal of Western corporations made consumerist comforts materially unattainable: IKEA, McDonald’s, Apple Pay, Netflix, and Instagram disappeared. Second, mass anti-war protests — the largest in more than a decade — demonstrated that a segment of society was prepared to break the contract even under direct police pressure. Third, and most consequential for our model, the state concluded that as long as a person retains access to uncontrolled information, they remain potentially disloyal.

The initial response was surgical: blocking Instagram and Facebook, throttling Twitter/X, tightening regulations on VPN services. But these measures remained half-hearted — they left people with the practical sense that censorship could technically be circumvented. The systemic shift came later.

On February 20, 2026, Putin signed a law requiring telecommunications operators to suspend services upon instruction from the Federal Security Service. The stated purpose was counterterrorism. The practical function was to give the FSB direct administrative authority to shut down communications in any region of the country, without judicial oversight of any kind. The law took effect ten days after signature.

Beginning March 6, 2026, Moscow residents reported pervasive mobile network outages. According to Forbes, operators received orders to restrict network operations in specific areas of the city. On March 14, 2026, a “whitelist” system was activated — a defined list of resources accessible during the shutdown.

THE ARCHITECTURE OF THE WHITELIST

The composition of the list is analytically revealing. It includes: government services (Gosuslugi, official agency portals); state-controlled information platforms (VKontakte, Odnoklassniki, Yandex); e-commerce services (Ozon, Wildberries, Samokat, Burger King, SDEK, car-sharing); banking applications (Alfa-Bank, VTB, the Mir payment system); and state media (RIA Novosti, Zvezda, Match TV, VGTRK).

Conspicuously absent from the list: any independent or foreign news source; social networks not under state control; messaging applications; and any tool capable of allowing users to verify the actual state of affairs outside official channels.

The architecture of the list follows a coherent and unambiguous logic. This is not a list of resources essential for survival — it is notably lacking, for instance, in medical services or emergency infrastructure. It is a list of controlled existence: a person may order food, pay a bill, call a taxi — but cannot learn why communications are down, what is occurring in the city, or consult with anyone outside official channels.

What we observe, therefore, is not the destruction of comfort but its restructuring: comfort is preserved precisely and only to the degree that it does not threaten control. The state does not deprive a person of pizza delivery — it deprives a person of the ability to know that pizza delivery and the FSB now share the same infrastructure.

PHASE TWO: COMFORT AS INSTRUMENT, NOT COMPENSATION

This is what qualitatively distinguishes the second phase from the first. In the first phase, comfort functioned as compensation — a substitute for freedom. In the second, it becomes an instrument of control: a permitted set of actions within an enclosed space. The difference between a gilded cage and a bare one ceases to matter; what matters is that neither can be exited.

The law of February 20, 2026, is precisely such an act of normalization: it converts ad hoc disconnections — practiced before, but extrajudicially — into a legal procedure. From this point forward, any shutdown of communications is not an act of arbitrary power but the enforcement of law. Legal form does not constrain; it legitimizes.

CONCLUSIONS

The situation described above permits the following theoretical and practical conclusions.

First, twenty-first-century authoritarianism does not merely suppress freedom — it replaces freedom with a simulacrum of well-being. This substitution is not a temporary tactic but a structural element that allows the regime to minimize the costs of overt repression during the first phase.

Second, the transition from the first phase to the second is not an abrupt rupture — it is prepared by the gradual technical, legal, and institutional construction of a control infrastructure. Those who failed to register the first phase find themselves unprepared for the second.

Third, the whitelist of internet resources is not merely a technical solution — it is the concentrated expression of a new social ontology: only what is permitted is real. This represents “information sovereignty” in its most radical and unmediated form.

Fourth, the legal normalization of communications shutdowns is the key step that transforms the extraordinary into the routine. Further comparative analysis of legislative trajectories in states exhibiting similar dynamics is necessary if adequate mechanisms of protection and resistance are to be developed in time.

In stable political environments, closed-circuit television (CCTV) networks, digital monitoring systems, and biometric databases serve as constitutive elements of what sociologists term “formal social control.” They operate not merely through the detection of deviance but through the presumption of permanent visibility: the surveilled subject modifies behaviour in anticipation of observation. Modern states extend this gaze into previously private domains. Under peacetime conditions, total surveillance ostensibly underwrites public order by deterring crime, legitimising state authority, and providing evidentiary accountability.

The wartime context fundamentally reverses this relationship. A striking empirical illustration emerged in March 2026, when Israeli authorities were reported to have physically removed CCTV cameras across different territories, not to protect citizens from surveillance, but to conceal the extent of damage sustained from Iranian missile strikes. The apparatus of total surveillance — designed to observe and discipline the population — was dismantled by the very state that constructed it, in order to manage the state’s own information environment. This episode crystallises what may be termed the sovereign surveillance paradox: in conditions of existential threat, the state suppresses its own panoptic infrastructure to preserve the appearance of security — and, by extension, the legitimacy of its social control project.

From a criminological standpoint, this dynamic raises profound questions. First, it exposes the ideological dimension of surveillance: CCTV systems are not neutral instruments of order but political technologies whose deployment and removal are subject to calculations of power. Second, it illustrates how war produces a condition of norm suspension in which the legal and institutional frameworks governing social control are subordinated to military imperatives. Criminality and deviance do not disappear in wartime; rather, their definition, measurement, and governance are radically transformed. Ordinary crime statistics become unreliable, prosecutorial capacity collapses, and informal social control mechanisms (community solidarity, collective punishment, vigilante justice) rush in to fill the institutional vacuum.

The deliberate dismantling of surveillance infrastructure under conditions of armed conflict compels criminologists to reconsider the relationship between visibility, power, and order. Total surveillance, far from being the apotheosis of social control, is revealed as a contingent and reversible technology — one that states deploy in peacetime to govern populations and abandon, selectively, when its panoptic logic threatens to expose the state’s own vulnerabilities. War, in this sense, does not merely destroy institutions of social control: it strips them of their pretence.

The data reveal several significant patterns across the 2013-2025 period. While crimes committed with firearms indeed increased substantially in 2022, reaching 1929 incidents – a more than six-fold increase from the 2021 figure of 300 cases – this surge must be contextualised within Ukraine’s broader contemporary history.

Most notably, the 2014 figure of 2523 firearm-related crimes remains the highest recorded level in the dataset, exceeding the 2022 figure by approximately 31%. This 2014 peak coincided with the Maidan Revolution, the illegal annexation of Crimea, and the initial phase of Russian military aggression in Eastern Ukraine, suggesting that periods of intense political upheaval and initial conflict onset may generate more pronounced spikes in firearm criminality than subsequent phases of sustained warfare.

The period from 2015 to 2021 demonstrates a consistent downward trajectory, with firearm-related crimes declining from 1526 in 2015 to the aforementioned historical minimum of 300 in 2021. This trend persisted despite the ongoing armed conflict in Donbas throughout this period, indicating that sustained conflict itself does not necessarily correlate with elevated firearm crime rates in government-controlled territories. The 2015 figure of 1526 crimes is particularly noteworthy as it occurred during active hostilities yet remained substantially lower than both the 2014 peak and the 2022-2023 figures, suggesting that the initial shock of conflict disruption may be more criminogenic than its continuation.

The 2022-2023 period shows elevated but plateauing figures (1929 and 1867 respectively), followed by a sharp decline in 2024 (832) and relative stabilisation in 2025 (821).

A particularly troubling dimension concerns the relationship between criminal proceedings (total numbers) and criminal proceedings with suspects. Throughout the entire period, notifications consistently lag behind reported crimes, but this gap becomes especially pronounced during peak crime years.

In 2014, while 2523 crimes were recorded, only 833 notifications were filed – a clearance rate of approximately 33%. Similarly, in 2022, the 1929 reported crimes resulted in only 517 notifications, yielding an even lower rate of roughly 27%.

This declining ratio between crimes and suspects raises serious questions about law enforcement agency (LEA) effectiveness during periods of crisis. Several hypotheses merit consideration: First, the wartime redeployment of police resources to military and security functions may diminish investigative capacity for ordinary criminal matters. Second, territorial displacement and population movement may complicate witness cooperation and evidence collection. Third, the saturation of the criminal justice system with conflict-related cases may create processing bottlenecks. Fourth, and most concerning from a rule-of-law perspective, the data may reflect decreased accountability during periods when institutional controls are weakened.

The 2021 data present an interesting counterpoint: 300 crimes with 251 notifications represents an 84% notification rate – the highest in the dataset. This suggests that in stable conditions with lower caseloads, Ukrainian law enforcement demonstrates significantly greater effectiveness in investigating firearm-related crimes. The dramatic erosion of this capacity in 2022-2023, when it was arguably most needed, represents a critical challenge for maintaining the rule of law during armed conflict.

The escalation of firearm-related intentional homicides in the context of armed conflict presents a stark illustration of how warfare fundamentally disrupts criminal justice systems and public safety. Police statistics reveal a dramatic transformation in the incidence of intentional homicides committed with firearms, particularly during periods of military confrontation. After reaching a historic low of 36 registered criminal proceedings in 2021, the number surged to 247 cases in 2022, coinciding with the onset of full-scale hostilities. This seven-fold increase marked only the beginning of a more severe crisis, as 2023 witnessed an unprecedented spike to 909 registered proceedings – representing a twenty-five-fold increase compared to the pre-war baseline and the highest level recorded throughout the entire observation period.

The 2023 peak demands particular scholarly attention, as it exceeds even the initial shock of 2014, when 320 cases were registered following the outbreak of armed conflict in eastern regions. While the 2014 spike reflected localised warfare’s immediate impact on violent crime patterns, the 2023 figures suggest a more comprehensive destabilisation of social order and law enforcement capacity across broader territories. The subsequent decline to 295 proceedings in 2024 and 187 in 2025, while substantial, nevertheless maintains firearm homicide rates at levels five times higher than the 2021 baseline, indicating that wartime conditions have fundamentally restructured the criminal violence landscape rather than producing merely temporary disturbances.

Equally significant is the widening gap between registered criminal proceedings and criminal proceedings with suspects. In 2023, only 173 of the 909 proceedings resulted in suspect identification – a clearance rate of merely 19%, compared to 94% in 2021. This deterioration in investigative effectiveness reflects the profound challenges confronting law enforcement agencies operating under wartime conditions, including resource diversion to military objectives, territorial displacement of both victims and perpetrators, destruction of forensic infrastructure, and the general chaos that impedes witness cooperation and evidence collection. The persistence of low clearance rates in subsequent years (52% in 2024 and 64% in 2025) suggests that investigative capacity remains compromised even as overall crime numbers decline, raising concerns about long-term impunity for violent offenses and the erosion of rule of law foundations.

The dynamics of intentional grievous bodily harm committed with firearms reveal two distinct peaks over the observed period. While the 2022 surge (18 criminal proceedings, all with suspects) can be directly attributed to the full-scale Russian military invasion, the 2014 spike presents a more complex pattern. Despite the absence of full-scale aggression, that year recorded 25 registered crimes – the highest figure in the entire dataset – though notifications remained relatively low at 8. This discrepancy between 2014’s elevated crime registration and lower notification rates, compared to 2022’s parity between both indicators, suggests fundamentally different underlying dynamics. The 2014 spike likely reflects the initial phase of armed conflict in Donbas and the annexation of Crimea, while the 2018-2021 period shows sustained low levels (1-5 cases annually). The post-2022 stabilisation at 14-16 cases indicates a new baseline shaped by ongoing military conflict, with notification rates now closely tracking registered crimes – a pattern absent in the 2014 crisis.

The Figure below demonstrates the number of aggravated robberies committed with the use of firearms and the number of suspects in corresponding criminal proceedings from 2013 to 2025.

On the one hand, we can observe a significant increase in aggravated robberies committed with firearms compared to 2021, when the indicator reached its lowest point at 17 registered cases. On the other hand, police statistics for 2013-2017 demonstrate substantially higher numbers of aggravated robberies – even when Ukrainian society was not as deeply saturated with firearms as in 2022.

The 2014 peak of 411 cases coincides with the outbreak of military actions in Eastern Ukraine and the initial destabilisation of state institutions following the Maidan Revolution. The subsequent decline through 2021 suggests gradual improvement in both law enforcement capacity and social order despite ongoing hostilities in Donbas. Paradoxically, the full-scale invasion in February 2022, which dramatically increased firearm availability through military mobilisation and territorial defense forces, did not produce a return to pre-2018 crime levels. The relatively modest increase to 32 cases in 2022, followed by further decline to 11 cases in 2024, contradicts expectations that widespread weapon proliferation would necessarily correlate with violent property crime.

This inverse relationship between firearm saturation and armed aggravated robbery rates warrants further investigation into whether wartime social cohesion, enhanced informal social control mechanisms, or changes in criminal opportunity structures may be mediating factors in crime suppression during the full-scale invasion period.

The Figure below presents data on crimes committed with explosives and notifications in corresponding criminal proceedings from 2013 to 2025.

The data reveal two concerning trends.

First, after a decline from 2014 (112 crimes) to 2021 (20 crimes), explosive-related crimes have increased substantially: 63 in 2023, 86 in 2024, and 98 in 2025. Second, despite this rising crime rate, the proportion of cases with suspects has decreased dramatically. While notifications roughly corresponded to crime numbers in earlier years (e.g., 55 of 65 in 2013), recent years show a widening gap: only 14 notifications for 63 crimes in 2023, 18 for 86 in 2024, and 32 for 98 in 2025. This divergence suggests significant challenges in investigative capacity, indicating that the clearance rate for explosive-related crimes has fallen to approximately one-third of cases, raising serious concerns about law enforcement effectiveness in addressing this category of criminal activity.

The statistical trajectory of firearms-related crime in Ukraine between 2013 and 2025 reveals a pattern fundamentally shaped by two periods of acute conflict: the initial phase following the Maidan Revolution and Russian annexation of Crimea (2014-2015), and the full-scale invasion beginning in 2022. However, the official figures – showing 2523 registered firearms crimes in 2014, declining to 300 by 2021, then resurging to 1929 in 2022 and 1867 in 2023 – represent only the visible surface of a far more complex and troubling reality.

The inherent limitations of police statistics during wartime and post-conflict periods cannot be overstated. When state institutions are under existential threat, when territories remain contested or temporarily occupied, and when law enforcement resources are redirected toward immediate survival imperatives, criminal registration systems inevitably suffer degradation. The stark spike in intentional homicides with firearms in 2023 (909 cases – the highest figure in the entire observation period) suggests that even as overall firearms crime statistics began to stabilise, the lethality and severity of incidents continued to escalate. Yet these recorded cases likely represent merely a fraction of actual incidents, particularly in conflict zones where bodies may remain unrecovered, crimes unreported, and perpetrators unidentified.

The proliferation of military-grade weaponry throughout Ukrainian society constitutes an unprecedented security challenge. Unlike the civilian firearms that characterised crime patterns in peacetime, contemporary Ukrainian society is saturated with automatic weapons, explosives, and military equipment distributed to territorial defense units, police, and irregular formations. The tragic incident in Cherkasy region on January 27, 2026, where a murder suspect killed four police officers and wounded another during an arrest attempt, exemplifies the lethal potential of this arsenal when weaponry remains in circulation after demobilisation or falls into criminal hands. This case also demonstrates how former or active combatants, when pursued by law enforcement, may employ military tactics and superior firepower against police forces trained primarily for civilian policing rather than armed confrontation with military-trained adversaries.

Organised crime groups have proven remarkably adaptive in exploiting the chaos of wartime conditions. The availability of military and police uniforms, combined with genuine uncertainty about the legitimacy of various armed formations operating in Ukraine’s complex security landscape, creates opportunities for criminal enterprises to commit offenses under the guise of state authority. The blurring of lines between legitimate security actors and criminals wearing appropriated insignia represents a fundamental challenge to the monopoly on legitimate violence that defines functional statehood. When criminals can plausibly impersonate soldiers or police officers, public trust in security institutions erodes, victimisation becomes more difficult to report, and the psychological distance between military service and organised crime narrows dangerously.

Yet perhaps the most concerning dimension of Ukraine’s firearms saturation extends beyond immediate criminal justice challenges into the realm of long-term social pathology. The reintegration of hundreds of thousands of demobilised combatants – many bearing psychological trauma, habituated to violence, and possessing both weapons training and often access to weaponry itself – represents a generational challenge. As an example, the mentioned above murder of four police officers was comitted by an ex-militaryman. Post-traumatic stress disorder, moral injury, and the difficulty of transitioning from the intense purpose and camaraderie of combat to the often hollow meaninglessness of post-war civilian existence create fertile conditions for violence, substance abuse, domestic abuse, and suicide. While the majority of veterans will successfully reintegrate, research from comparable conflicts suggests that a significant minority will engage in criminal activity, domestic violence, or self-destructive behavior.

The convergence of these factors – statistical underreporting masking true crime levels, widespread availability of military weaponry, organised crime exploitation of institutional weakness, and a large population of potentially vulnerable veterans – suggests that Ukraine faces not merely a temporary spike in firearms violence but a structural transformation in its security environment. The 2024-2025 figures, showing some decline from 2023 peaks, may reflect either genuine improvement or simply reduced state capacity to document crimes during intensified conflict.

This analysis examines crime statistics from 2013 to 2025, with particular focus on the wartime period (2022-2025), to demonstrate how armed conflict has disrupted crime control mechanisms and overwhelmed institutional capacity. The central thesis is that while Ukraine has experienced a dramatic surge in registered criminal offences during the war, the state’s ability to respond effectively has deteriorated significantly, as evidenced by the growing gap between registered crimes and criminal proceedings with identified suspects. This pattern reflects broader challenges facing states attempting to maintain rule of law under conditions of existential military threat.

Pre-War Crime Trends and the Initial Impact of Full-Scale Invasion

To understand the wartime crime crisis, it is essential to examine pre-war trends. From 2013 to 2016, Ukraine registered between 529139 and 592604 crimes annually, with a corresponding 159480 to 223561 criminal proceedings involving identified suspects. Following the 2014 Russian armed agression in Donbas and subsequent police reforms, crime rates showed a declining trend, reaching a historic low of 321443 registered crimes in 2021. This decade-long reduction suggested improvements in both crime prevention and institutional effectiveness.

The year 2020 marked the beginning of significant disruption due to the COVID-19 pandemic, with 360622 registered crimes and 167098 proceedings with suspects. However, 2021 saw a further decrease to 321443 crimes with 172494 identified suspects, representing the lowest point in the observed period. The ratio between registered crimes and identified suspects remained relatively stable during these years, hovering around 50-54%, indicating that approximately half of all registered criminal offences resulted in specific individuals being notified of suspicion.

The full-scale invasion in February 2022 immediately disrupted this trajectory. In 2022, the Ukrainian law enforcement agencies (hereafter – LEA) registered 362636 crimes with corresponding criminal proceedings, where the above-mentioned numbers reflect both criminal proceedings with concrete suspects and so-called ‘factual’ criminal proceedings (without suspects). Despite the war beginning only in late February, this figure exceeded the entire 2021 total. Notably, only 132418 criminal proceedings involved identified suspects, yielding a suspect identification rate of approximately 36,5%, the lowest in the entire observation period. It should be noted that the number of registered crimes even for the period of ten months of 2022 almost reached the level of 2021 (a whole year). This initial year of war revealed a critical pattern: even as institutional capacity was redirected toward military defense and territorial integrity, criminal activity did not decrease but rather began to increase, while the state’s capacity to investigate and prosecute crimes deteriorated significantly.

The Escalating Crime Crisis: 2023-2025

The subsequent years demonstrated an alarming escalation in criminal activity. In 2023, the LEA registered 475595 crimes with corresponding criminal proceedings where notes of suspicion were given in 189292 proceedings – a 31% increase from 2022 and a 48% increase from 2021. While the number of proceedings with identified suspects recovered somewhat, this represented only 39,8% of registered crimes, still significantly below pre-war levels. This partial recovery in suspect identification suggests some adaptation by law enforcement institutions, but the gap between crimes and investigative capacity continued to widen in absolute terms.

The year 2024 saw continued deterioration, with the LEA registering 492479 crimes and giving notes of suspicion in 194688 proceedings (39,5% rate). Most dramatically, 2025 data reveals an unprecedented spike: the LEA registered 608191 crimes with notes of suspicion given in only 165904 proceedings – the highest crime figure in the entire 2013-2025 period, representing an 89% increase from the 2021 baseline and a 24% increase from 2024. Paradoxically, despite this surge in registered criminality, the number of proceedings with identified suspects decreased in absolute terms, yielding a suspect identification rate of merely 27,3% – the lowest in the observed period.

These statistics reveal several critical patterns. First, the war has not led to a simple linear increase in crime but rather an accelerating crisis, with 2025 representing a particularly acute deterioration. Second, the state’s capacity to respond has not kept pace with the crime surge; in fact, it has declined in both relative and, in 2025, absolute terms. Third, the gap between registered crimes and effective investigation has reached crisis proportions, with over 442000 criminal proceedings in 2025 lacking identified suspects.

Structural Explanations and Systemic Implications

In line with patterns previously seen in other countries at various times, war has led to a significant increase in crime in Ukraine. However, the Ukrainian case is distinctive in several respects. Unlike historical conflicts that often occurred under authoritarian regimes with restricted civil liberties, Ukraine has attempted to maintain democratic governance and rule of law while fighting an existential war. This commitment to transparency is reflected in the continued registration and publication of crime statistics, even as these numbers reveal institutional weakness.

The dramatic increase in crimes without identified suspects reflects multiple systemic pressures. First, significant human resources have been redirected from law enforcement to military service, depleting investigative capacity. Second, territorial disruptions, population displacement, and infrastructure damage have complicated investigative processes and cross-jurisdictional cooperation. Third, war-related crimes – including collaboration with occupation forces, looting in conflict zones, and military-related offences – have added entirely new categories of criminality requiring specialised investigative approaches. Fourth, corruption and organised crime have adapted to wartime conditions, exploiting gaps in institutional oversight and the chaos of military logistics.

The state’s response demonstrates a critical tension in wartime governance: Ukrainian authorities continue to register criminal offences to the maximum extent possible, fulfilling transparency and documentation obligations, but lack sufficient resources, human capital, and organisational capabilities to bring perpetrators to justice. This creates a dangerous dynamic where impunity increases, potentially encouraging further criminal activity. The 2025 figures are particularly concerning, suggesting that as the war extends into its fourth year, institutional exhaustion has reached a critical threshold.

Moreover, the low suspect identification rates have profound implications for public trust in institutions, deterrence effects, and post-war reconstruction. If significant portions of wartime criminality remain unaddressed, this could normalise impunity and complicate efforts to restore rule of law. The challenge is compounded by the fact that many crimes committed during wartime – particularly corruption in military procurement, abuse of martial law provisions, and collaboration with occupation forces – have direct implications for state security and post-war accountability.

General Data: Conclusion

The evidence presented demonstrates that Ukraine’s criminal justice system is experiencing a severe crisis under the pressures of prolonged armed conflict. Registered crimes have increased by 89% from pre-war levels, while the capacity to identify and prosecute suspects has declined dramatically, creating a widening justice gap. The 2025 spike to over 608000 registered crimes with less than 166000 identified suspects represents an unprecedented challenge to rule of law. At the same time, it has revealed significant weaknesses in the state’s response to crime, as evidenced by the ratio between the number of registered criminal offences and the number of criminal proceedings in which individuals have been notified of suspicion. Thus, the state registers criminal offences to the maximum extent possible, but does not have sufficient resources, human resources and organisational capabilities to bring the perpetrators to justice.

These findings have significant implications for understanding how modern democratic states function under existential military threats. Ukraine’s experience suggests that transparency and institutional continuity can be maintained even under extreme pressure, but that effectiveness inevitably suffers when resources are diverted to survival. The growing gap between registered crimes and prosecuted cases represents not merely a statistical phenomenon but a fundamental challenge to social order, public safety, and democratic governance.

As the war continues, Ukrainian authorities face the dual challenge of maintaining immediate security while preventing the complete erosion of criminal justice capacity. International support for institutional strengthening, technical assistance in investigation techniques, and post-war reconstruction planning must account for this accumulated deficit in justice delivery. The Ukrainian case demonstrates that modern warfare affects not only military and economic capacity but fundamentally disrupts the legal order, with consequences that will extend well beyond the cessation of hostilities.

The data from 2013-2025 reveals that Ukraine is indeed serving as a critical case study for understanding crime and justice under conditions of total war in a democratic society. The lessons learned – both positive in terms of institutional resilience and concerning in terms of capacity limitations – will be essential for policy makers, international organisations, and scholars seeking to support states facing similar existential challenges. The path toward restoring effective criminal justice in Ukraine will require sustained effort, significant resources, and innovative approaches to addressing the massive backlog of uninvestigated crimes accumulated during the war years.

Effectiveness of the Law Enforcement Agencies

The operational capacity of Ukraine’s criminal justice system has undergone substantial transformation following the full-scale Russian invasion of February 2022, with police statistics revealing a marked decline in the number of criminal proceedings involving identified suspects during the 2022-2024 period compared to pre-war benchmarks. This deterioration manifests most clearly in the ratio between registered criminal proceedings and notifications of suspicion – a critical metric that reflects the investigative effectiveness and overall functional integrity of the law enforcement apparatus.

Prior to the Russian invasion, Ukraine’s criminal justice system demonstrated a consistent trajectory of improvement in investigative outcomes. As crime statistics illustrate, the ratio between criminal proceedings and notifications of suspicion exhibited a stable downward trend from 2016 to 2021, declining from its peak of 3,71 in 2016 to a historic low of 1,86 in 2021. This six-year pattern suggested progressive enhancement in investigative capacity, indicating that law enforcement agencies were successfully identifying suspects in an increasing proportion of registered criminal cases. The 2021 ratio represented the most efficient performance within the analysed timeframe, signaling that for every registered criminal proceeding, investigators were able to issue notifications of suspicion to concrete individuals at nearly twice the rate observed five years earlier.

However, the onset of full-scale hostilities precipitated a reversal of this positive trend. While 2022 showed a modest increase to 2,74, and 2023-2024 maintained relatively stable figures of 2,51 and 2,53 respectively, the year 2025 witnessed a dramatic surge to 3,66 – approaching the 2016 peak and representing one of the highest ratios recorded in the past decade. This striking elevation indicates that the proportion of criminal proceedings concluding with identified suspects has diminished substantially, suggesting that nearly four registered crimes are now required to generate a single notification of suspicion. Such a ratio effectively doubles the investigative inefficiency observed during the system’s optimal 2021 performance.

Several interconnected factors may account for this deterioration in investigative effectiveness. The redeployment of experienced law enforcement personnel to military service has depleted institutional capacity, while ongoing hostilities have disrupted investigative procedures, evidence collection, and witness cooperation. Additionally, the occupation of territories, population displacement, and infrastructure destruction have created unprecedented obstacles to standard investigative practices. The wartime environment has simultaneously increased certain categories of crime while constraining the resources available for their investigation, creating a widening gap between reported criminality and prosecutorial outcomes.

The implications of this trend extend beyond mere statistical observation. A criminal justice system that registers criminal proceedings without corresponding suspect identification risks undermining public confidence in the rule of law, potentially encouraging impunity and eroding deterrence mechanisms. This is particularly concerning during wartime, when social cohesion and institutional legitimacy assume heightened importance. The 2025 spike further suggests that Ukraine faces mounting challenges in maintaining even the diminished investigative capacity observed in 2022-2024, potentially indicating accelerating institutional degradation absent targeted interventions to stabilise and restore criminal justice functionality under extraordinary operational conditions.

Geographical Distribution of Crime: The Ruralisation of Criminality in Wartime

An analysis of crime trends in Ukraine reveals a significant transformation in its spatial distribution: crime has become less urbanised, with rural forms of criminal activity on the rise. Although in absolute terms urban crime (in cities and urban-type settlements) still prevails over rural crime, the armed conflict has led to a noticeable shift in the geography of crime from urban centres to rural areas.

This phenomenon may be due to several interrelated factors. First, crimes committed in the frontline zone against the backdrop of mass abandonment of property by owners. Second, crimes committed by servicemen of the Armed Forces of Ukraine (desertion and unauthorised abandonment of military units). Thirdly, criminal activities of Russian occupation forces in frontline and occupied territories.

At the same time, official statistics from the Office of the Prosecutor General contain significant contradictions that cast doubt on this hypothesis. In particular, there is a paradoxical situation: against the backdrop of an increase in the total number of crimes, especially those classified under Article 115 of the Criminal Code of Ukraine (intentional murder) and traditionally associated with the activities of the occupiers and cases of missing persons, the number of registered crimes committed by foreigners on the territory of Ukraine shows a steady downward trend.

This discrepancy between expected and official statistics indicates systemic problems in the reliability and completeness of the official statistical picture of crime presented by Ukrainian law enforcement agencies. The underreporting or misclassification of crimes committed by foreign combatants – particularly Russian military personnel operating in occupied and frontline territories – suggests either systematic data collection failures or deliberate statistical manipulation. Such inconsistencies undermine the credibility of official crime statistics and complicate evidence-based policy responses to wartime criminality.

One of the main conclusions from research into crime trends since 2022 is that the war made criminality in Ukraine significantly more rural. The statistical evidence demonstrates a clear and consistent trajectory toward the ruralisation of crime that accelerated dramatically following the full-scale Russian invasion. In 2013, the ratio between crimes committed in urban and rural areas stood at 4,04, indicating that urban crime was approximately four times more prevalent than rural crime. This ratio remained relatively stable throughout the pre-war period, fluctuating between 3,82 and 4,19 from 2013 to 2019, reflecting Ukraine’s traditional pattern of urban-concentrated criminality typical of post-Soviet societies.

However, beginning in 2020 and accelerating sharply in 2022, this ratio underwent a dramatic transformation. By 2022, the urban-to-rural crime ratio decreased to 3,23, representing a reduction of nearly 20% compared to pre-war levels. This decline continued progressively, reaching 2,99 in 2023, 2,35 in 2024, and falling to just 1,99 in 2025. The 2025 figure represents an unprecedented historical low, indicating that urban crime is now barely twice as common as rural crime – a stark departure from the traditional four-to-one ratio that characterised Ukrainian criminality for decades.

The percentage distribution of crimes across urban and rural areas provides even more compelling evidence of this spatial transformation. In the period of 2013-2021, urban crimes occupied 77-78% in the general structure of criminality in Ukraine, with rural crimes accounting for approximately 19-20%. This distribution remained remarkably stable, with only minor annual fluctuations, suggesting an entrenched pattern of urban crime dominance rooted in Ukraine’s demographic and socioeconomic structure.

The beginning of the war in 2022 brought the minimum level of urban crime (74,14%) and maximum level of rural crime (22,97%) for the last decade of national crime prevention history. This represented the first significant breach of the established urban-rural crime distribution pattern. However, the trend did not stabilize at this new equilibrium but continued to evolve in subsequent years. By 2023, urban crime fell to 72,9% while rural crime rose to 24,3%. The transformation accelerated further in 2024, when police statistics demonstrated the lowest level of crimes in urban areas (67,6%) and the highest level of crimes in rural areas (28,7%) ever recorded in modern Ukrainian criminal statistics.

The 2025 data reveals an even more dramatic shift, with urban crime comprising only 64,3% of total registered crimes and rural crime reaching 32,3%. This means that nearly one-third of all crimes in Ukraine now occur in rural areas – a proportion that would have been inconceivable in the pre-war period. The shift of approximately 13 percentage points from urban to rural crime between 2013 and 2025 represents a fundamental restructuring of Ukraine’s criminal geography.

It appears that such changes have resulted primarily from the 2022 Russian armed aggression, where many crimes were committed by Russian soldiers and officers in rural areas. The occupation and temporary control of vast rural territories, particularly in eastern and southern Ukraine, created conditions for systematic criminal activity by occupation forces. Rural areas, characterised by lower population density, weaker law enforcement presence, and greater distance from administrative centres, became particularly vulnerable to occupation-related crimes including looting, property destruction, violence against civilians, and other war crimes.

The displacement of civilian populations from frontline and occupied rural territories created opportunities for property crimes in abandoned settlements. Villages and agricultural areas near active combat zones experienced mass evacuation, leaving homes, farms, and infrastructure unguarded and susceptible to theft and vandalism by both occupation forces and opportunistic criminals. The absence of property owners and the collapse of local law enforcement structures in these areas created a criminogenic environment with minimal deterrence or oversight.

Military-related crimes by Ukrainian servicemen, particularly desertion and unauthorised abandonment of military units, also contributed to the ruralisation of crime statistics. As military operations concentrated in rural and semi-rural frontline areas, crimes committed by servicemen were more likely to be registered in rural jurisdictions rather than urban centres. The stress and trauma of prolonged combat operations, combined with inadequate military discipline mechanisms in some units, led to increased incidents of military crimes that statistically registered as rural offences.

Furthermore, the transformation of rural areas into conflict zones altered the fundamental nature of criminal opportunity structures. Traditional urban crimes associated with commercial activity, public gatherings, and dense residential populations declined due to wartime restrictions, curfews, and economic disruption in cities. Simultaneously, new forms of rural criminality emerged, including illegal weapons trafficking, smuggling across changed administrative boundaries, and crimes related to the exploitation of humanitarian aid and reconstruction resources in affected rural communities.