Belgian minister tells Kyiv anti-corruption reforms serve Ukrainians, not Brussels

Belgium's foreign minister used a visit to Kyiv on 18 August to deliver a message that Ukraine's anti-corruption and rule-of-law reforms matter far more than as a ticket to EU membership. Standing alongside his Ukrainian counterpart Andrii Sybiha, Maxime Prevot made clear that the institutional changes Brussels is demanding are primarily for the benefit of Ukrainian citizens themselves.

"An independent judiciary, solid democratic institutions, bodies effectively able to fight corruption, these are not just reforms designed to please Brussels," Prevot told a press conference. "They are reforms designed to protect citizens, reinforce trust, and make your country more resilient."

The framing was deliberate. For months, Kyiv has struggled to advance the very reforms Prevot was describing. Ukraine has not fulfilled a single one of the ten benchmarks in the so-called Kachka-Kos reform plan, the set of conditions the EU has tied to Ukraine's accession path. At least one aspect of judicial reform appears to have gone backwards.

A reform plan with zero benchmarks met

The Kachka-Kos plan, named after the two European Commission officials who designed it, sets out ten concrete steps Ukraine must take on rule of law, corruption and institutional governance. As of mid-August 2026, the scorecard reads zero from ten. That is not a matter of slow progress; it is a signal that the Verkhovna Rada, Ukraine's parliament, has either been unable or unwilling to pass the necessary legislation.

The difficulty is partly structural. Ukraine has been under full-scale Russian invasion since February 2022, and the wartime parliament faces competing pressures: military funding, mobilisation laws, and the sheer strain of governing a country under daily attack. Reform deadlines that would be ambitious in peacetime become harder still when air raids interrupt legislative sessions and millions of citizens are displaced.

Yet the zero-for-ten record also reflects domestic political resistance. Anti-corruption bodies, once established, tend to investigate powerful people. Judicial independence, once codified, limits the influence of political patrons. Several of the Kachka-Kos benchmarks require sitting lawmakers and officials to surrender tools they have long relied on. The reluctance is not mysterious.

A raid on the presidential administration

The day after Prevot's press conference, Ukraine's National Anti-Corruption Bureau (NABU) raided the office of President Volodymyr Zelensky's deputy chief of staff, among others. The timing was coincidental rather than coordinated, but the juxtaposition was striking. Prevot had praised young Ukrainians for their "democratic energy" and for "holding their institutions to account"; within 24 hours, an anti-corruption agency was doing exactly that, inside the presidential administration itself.

NABU raids on senior officials are not unprecedented in Ukraine. The bureau, established in 2014 as part of an earlier wave of EU-backed reforms, has investigated cabinet ministers, MPs and regional governors. But a raid reaching into the office of the president's own deputy chief of staff carries a particular political charge, particularly at a moment when Western partners are watching closely for evidence that anti-corruption institutions can operate without interference.

Whether the raid signals genuine institutional independence or a calculated display of it is a question that divides observers in Kyiv. NABU's credibility rests on its willingness to pursue cases wherever they lead. The presidential administration's response, so far, has been measured, neither obstructing the bureau nor publicly endorsing the investigation. That restraint may itself be a signal to Brussels.

Money tied to reform

In July, the European Union explicitly linked the Kachka-Kos plan to the disbursement of financial support to Ukraine. The move was an apparent attempt to refocus Kyiv on tackling corruption and rule-of-law concerns by attaching a direct financial consequence to inaction. The logic is straightforward: if the reforms are worth doing for their own sake, as Prevot argued, then tying money to them should concentrate minds without distorting priorities.

The calculation in Brussels is that Ukraine needs EU budget support urgently enough that the conditionality will bite. Ukraine's wartime economy depends heavily on external financing, and the reconstruction effort that will eventually follow will require tens of billions of euros in EU funds. Withholding even a tranche of that support sends a sharper signal than any diplomatic communiqué.

Critics of conditionality argue that punishing a war-ravaged country for legislative delays is both morally dubious and practically counterproductive. Proponents counter that the conditions exist precisely to prevent EU funds from being wasted or misappropriated, and that waiving them would undermine the enlargement process at its foundations. Prevot's remarks in Kyiv were an effort to bridge that tension: the reforms are good for Ukraine, and the money follows the reforms, not the other way around.

Two clusters unlocked, four to go

Ukraine has so far unlocked two of the six enlargement clusters that make up the formal accession framework. Each cluster is a bundle of policy areas, from fundamental rights to competition policy, that candidate countries must align with EU standards. The rule-of-law cluster, which covers the reforms at the heart of the Kachka-Kos plan, was formally provided to Ukraine on 15 June, meaning Kyiv now has the specific criteria it must meet.

Unlocking a cluster does not mean completing it. It means the candidate country has met enough preliminary conditions to begin substantive negotiations on that chapter. The harder work, aligning domestic law and practice with EU standards, comes afterwards. Ukraine's two unlocked clusters represent progress, but the remaining four, including the rule-of-law cluster, contain the most politically sensitive demands.

The enlargement process is designed to be incremental and reversible. Progress on one cluster can stall while another advances, and backsliding on any benchmark can halt negotiations across the board. The zero-for-ten record on Kachka-Kos therefore matters not just symbolically but structurally: until Ukraine demonstrates movement on rule of law, the accession process as a whole is effectively paused at its most consequential stage.

Judicial reform at risk of reversal

Among the concerns flagged in recent months is that Ukraine may be backsliding on at least one aspect of judicial reform. The precise nature of the reversal has not been detailed in public EU assessments, but the warning itself is significant. Judicial independence is the cornerstone of the rule-of-law cluster. If Ukraine is seen to be weakening rather than strengthening it, the credibility of the entire reform agenda comes into question.

Ukraine's judicial system has been a focus of reform efforts since before the 2022 invasion. The creation of the High Anti-Corruption Court in 2019, the vetting of judges through integrity checks, and the restructuring of the Supreme Court were all steps demanded by the International Monetary Fund and the EU. Some of those reforms have been partially implemented; others remain contested by sitting judges who face dismissal.

The risk of reversal is not hypothetical. In previous enlargement processes, candidate countries have advanced reforms to secure negotiation milestones and then relaxed their implementation once the immediate pressure eased. The EU's insistence on the Kachka-Kos benchmarks, and the financial conditionality attached to them, is partly designed to prevent that pattern from recurring in Ukraine's case.

What the autumn reports will reveal

In late September or early October, the European Commission is expected to publish its annual enlargement reports. These assessments will provide the first detailed, official snapshot of how Ukraine is faring against the rule-of-law criteria it received on 15 June. They will be scrutinised in Kyiv, in Brussels, and in every EU capital where support for Ukrainian membership is contingent on tangible progress.

The reports carry practical consequences. A negative assessment of Ukraine's rule-of-law progress could trigger a delay in financial disbursements, slow the opening of further negotiation clusters, and give ammunition to those member states that argue enlargement should proceed at a more cautious pace. A broadly positive assessment, even with caveats, would strengthen Kyiv's hand and maintain the political momentum behind the accession process.

Prevot's decision to praise Ukraine's young civil society while pressing the government on reform reflects a distinction that runs through EU enlargement policy. The Union wants to reward public demand for accountability while insisting that political leaders deliver it. The NABU raid on the presidential administration, whether coincidental or not, was a reminder that the institutions created to deliver accountability are still testing their reach.

Prevot's visit was brief, but the underlying message was pointed. The reforms the EU is demanding from Ukraine are not a gift to Brussels. They are, as he put it, designed to protect citizens and make the country more resilient. Whether Ukrainian lawmakers treat them as a domestic priority or a diplomatic obligation will shape not only the pace of accession but the quality of the state Ukraine is trying to build. The autumn reports will reveal which interpretation is winning. The European Commission's enlargement policy pages for Ukraine track the formal criteria and progress of the accession process.