Leonid Shyman and the War for Ukraine's Independent Arsenal

International Business Times

a day ago

In a country fighting for its very existence, where rockets fall on cities and defense industries work around the clock to shield the homeland, one would expect national heroes to be protected - celebrated, even.
Instead, Leonid Shyman, one of Ukraine's most accomplished defense engineers, finds himself in a prison cell, the legacy of decades of service buried under a landslide of highly questionable accusations.
This is not a case against a man - it is a political strike to the heart of Ukraine's defense infrastructure.
A Builder of the Arsenal of Freedom
For more than two decades, Leonid Shyman has not only led the Pavlohrad Chemical Plant (PCP) as the CEO - he has transformed it into the backbone of Ukraine's defense industry. Under his leadership, PCP built its ammunition production from ground up, now delivering over 2.5 million units across a wide range of calibers and types.
Today, the plant is responsible for more than 62% of Ukraine's domestic ordnance supply, making it a critical lifeline for Ukrainian troops on the front lines. The facility is so vital to Ukraine's defense that shutting it down would allow to stall the entire domestic missile and munitions supply.
Shyman is recognized for not having risen through privilege or nepotism, but through sweat and intellect - an engineer at heart who began as an expediter and worked his way up, brick by brick, until he stood at the helm of Ukraine's armament innovation. And innovations there have been many.
Under his leadership, PCP delivered rocket motors and warheads for the notorious Vilkha-M (a versatile short range multiple launch rocket system) and the tactical Hrim-2 (also known as Sapsan - the short-range ballistic missile reaching speeds of Mach 6). Those two defense missile systems form the backbone of Ukraine's deterrent against Russian aggression.
They have exceptionally been publicly recognized as "a deadly threat" (sic) by the Russian Ministry of Defense. There is no debate about the success of the Ukrainian defense contractor that had played a foundational role in developing and producing the warheads for the Neptune missiles which famously sank Russia's Moskva cruiser (Russia's fleet's lead ship in the Black Sea) in April of 2022.
Leonid Shyman is not only respected, but highly decorated - awarded the Hero of Ukraine title, the Order of Merit, he was appointed by the Ukrainian government as the General Designer for Creation of Ammunition and Explosives, a post reserved for the nation's top minds in defense technology.
At the time of his appointment, he was already serving as the Chief Designer of Solid Propellant Rocket Motors, making him one of the few individuals to hold both of Ukraine's top design posts in strategic weapons development.
And yet, it is precisely because of this success that the knives came out.
A Storm of Allegations — Orchestrated or Coincidental?
In 2021, just as the National Security and Defense Council approved a new surge in domestic weapons production, old ghosts were summoned. The National Anti-Corruption Bureau (NABU) suddenly revived a dormant case - an alleged "loss" of USD 1 million from contracts between 2011 and 2015.
Shyman, accused of channeling state orders through intermediary firms, fiercely rejected the charges. PCP presented audited results showing record gross profitability emphasizing that the state - as the enterprise's sole owner - had earned more money, not less.
The plant achieved a state-mandated profitability benchmark of 46%, but went far beyond it: in 2015–2016 alone, thanks to Shyman's strategic engagement in the dealer sales network, production and sales of explosives surged, and PCP delivered profits two to four times higher than the government's target.
Unlike in earlier years—when direct state contracting prior to 2010 often left the plant operating at a loss of 7–15%. But reason didn't seem to matter. The wheels were already in motion.
Then, more shadows crept in. In 2023, another case surfaced - this time over a procurement deal from 2016 involving a U.S.-based company that failed to deliver seamless pipes for rockets. The figure? USD 918'000.
The irony? This accusation emerged mere weeks after Shyman was promoted to oversee national ammunition development. The timing, Shyman's defenders argue, was no coincidence. It was a signal.
In April 2025, as Ukraine's armed forces faced critical shortages of domestic arms, Shyman was arrested amid dubious allegations related to "defective" 120mm mortar rounds.
Ironically, the very mortar rounds that were later re-certified and redeployed to frontline units after passing all quality checks. Meanwhile, new batches of 120mm mortars continued to be produced and delivered to the front.
Nevertheless, sensational headlines screamed. "Faulty mortar shells". "Rocket corruption". "Incompetence". Frivolous figures were thrown into a public eye. But no trial had been held, no conviction reached. Yet Shyman is still in prison.
The employees at the PCP plant shout their frustration. Write so far up as Zelensky. Detail the facts and not the fiction served to the Ukrainian press. Confirm the true numbers. Suppliers are talking and strongly defending PCP's quality of production. And now, press is starting to notice the discrepancies in the claims pushed by some Ukrainian entities such as SBU.
Nevertheless a narrative was born - and broadcast widely. But who does it serve?
Political Crosswinds Shake Ukraine's Anti-Corruption Institutions
At the very moment Shyman's professional life came under siege, Ukraine's anti-corruption institutions began to unravel.
In July 2025, the Verkhovna Rada passed a law subordinating NABU and the Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor's Office (SAPO) directly to the President's Prosecutor General - essentially eliminating the independence of the very institutions prosecuting Shyman.
This is a turn of events creating a national scandal and a governance problem for Ukraine.
The Security Service (SBU) launched raids on NABU's headquarters. Two agents were arrested. Dozens more were interrogated. According to insiders, these were not genuine counterintelligence operations - they were purges.
Control had shifted, and suddenly, high-profile cases began to look less like justice, and more like score-settling.
To many observers, Leonid Shyman's case is the first of what might seem to be a concerted strategy to use the conflict as a shield to target high-level assets with the goal of hijacking and stealing Ukraine's resources for personal gain.
The Hidden War for Pavlohrad: An Attack and a Heist on Ukraine
Pavlohrad Chemical Plant isn't just a factory. It's a strategic and financial asset. Its vaults hold equipment, technology, intellectual property and decades of weapons research. Its contracts are highly lucrative. Its political leverage is immeasurable.
Why is PCP such a target of choice? Again ranked as the most profitable public company in Ukraine (May 2025), PCP has a global revenue north 1.5 billion USD.
Competitors and intermediaries are lurking on the markup that could be made if this Ukrainian national production could be bypassed. Calculations show PCP provides Ukrainian armed forces with weaponry costing up to half the price of imported products. The holy grail for the armament industry.
But it's more than that. Creating political scandals, imprisoning key players, muzzling surveillance authorities, manipulating public opinion affects more than just Ukraine.
Delaying critical battlefield supplies or rerouting budget allocations for personal gain is one thing. Another is damaging global trust with Western partners, undermining future investments and future perspectives.
This is a heist not only on Ukrainian resources but on Ukrainian values.
Those who stand behind Shyman believe that the cases brought against him are not about corruption, but conquest. With Shyman out of the way, his position - the plant - his legacy - becomes ripe for hostile takeover.
By competitors, by intermediaries, or political activists, the message is clear: in war, profit is the new patriotism.
It is behind closed doors that those deals are still, today, obnoxiously made.
Patriotism on Trial: Cancelling the Ukrainian Hero
Today, Leonid Shyman sits in prison, branded a criminal by the very nation he served. It is institutional. It is systemic. And it raises the gravest of questions: In a country besieged by foreign missiles, have we also surrendered to internal sabotage?
As Ukraine fights for its survival on the battlefield, another battle is being waged in the shadows—one for control over its most vital industries, institutions, and ideals.
The imprisonment of Leonid Shyman is more than a personal tragedy; it is a warning. A signal that in the fog of war, the lines between patriot and target can blur, and the machinery of justice can be repurposed for political and financial gain.
If Ukraine is to emerge from this war not just intact, but renewed, it cannot afford to sacrifice its builders, scientists, and strategists on the altar of backroom deals and unchecked ambition. It must protect the integrity of its institutions as fiercely as it defends its territory.
The case of Leonid Shyman may one day be seen not as an isolated injustice—but as the moment the public finally asked: Who benefits when a patriot is imprisoned, and a country forgets why it fights?