KYIV—The roar of a generator bellows through a snow-covered courtyard in the city’s Troieshchyna neighborhood, drowning out conversation inside the six military-green tents pitched in a courtyard outside of residential buildings.

It had been running for three days straight, far longer than it was designed to, powering emergency heating stations for residents whose homes have gone cold during Ukraine’s harshest winter in more than a decade. When the machine stalls, even briefly, the lights flicker and the heat falters.

Inside the tents, run by Ukraine’s State Emergency Services (DSNS), there are cots, children’s books, and a Starlink connection. Anatoly, a DSNS commander, serves cheese sandwiches and tea, encouraging civilians to eat. By evening, more residents trickle in. Though they had braced for another wartime winter, few expected temperatures to plunge to minus 9 degrees Fahrenheit, or that strikes would continue to decimate the energy grid with peace talks ongoing. Many say their apartments hover around 46 degrees Fahrenheit, and it’s simply impossible to stay there anymore. “More people begin to show when they learn that they can eat food here,” Anatoly said. “Many don’t have the electricity to cook at home.”

As Russia’s war in Ukraine passes the four-year mark, many Ukrainians believe Moscow’s strategy of attrition now centers on freezing cities into submission. Part of the battle has shifted decisively toward the country’s energy grid—and toward Kyiv itself. January and February’s waves of drone and missile strikes marked some of the most sustained assaults on the capital’s heating and electricity systems since the beginning of the war, leaving hundreds of thousands without power and heat in subzero temperatures.

The attacks are a test of Ukraine’s resilience on two fronts. First is the physical struggle to keep the energy grid from collapsing under a new wave of Russian strikes. But behind this there is also a mounting political struggle to maintain public trust amid widening energy-sector corruption allegations. The scandal, which involved government officials receiving kickbacks from energy suppliers, adds to a political divide in Ukraine at a time when unity is needed most.

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Throughout the war, Russia has launched hundreds of strikes on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure. Kyiv had largely been spared from the worst of it, going days or even weeks without major attacks. However, over the last year, Russia’s attacks on Kyiv have intensified, with record-breaking drone and missile attacks occurring in the capital city and the country writ large.

2026 has proved no different. On Jan. 9, Russia carried out a massive overnight attack on multiple Ukrainian cities. This included a strike on the Lviv region using the nuclear-capable Oreshnik missile for only the second time—something EU foreign-policy chief Kaja Kallas said was “meant as a warning” to Europe and the United States. Kyiv was also hit especially hard, with four people killed and 25 injured. Mayor Vitalii Klitschko said 6,000 residential buildings—nearly half of the capital’s total—lost heat. As of March 2, 1,100 residential apartments in Kyiv still lack heating and are expected to remain without it for the remainder of the heating season, according to Klitschko’s office.

The race to repair the grid is ongoing. Ukraine’s largest private investor in the energy sector, DTEK, told Foreign Policy that more than 1,000 workers are trying to restore heat across the city, assisted by crews from other regions and from Ukrainian Railways. But each new strike sets back their work, driving a relentless cycle of destruction and restoration. “There’s a huge amount of work,” said Ihor, a DTEK maintenance worker. Crews are already stretched thin, working extended shifts in freezing conditions. “It’s very hard to work in the cold, both for the machinery and for people.”

But the problem isn’t just Russian strikes; repair efforts have been hampered by something closer to home. As crews race to repair substations and keep generators running, the institutions responsible for funding and safeguarding Ukraine’s energy sector are facing a self-made crisis of confidence. Last November, the National Anti-Corruption Bureau of Ukraine (NABU) accused senior officials of embezzling $100 million from the energy sector. ​

According to NABU, a 15-month probe involving 1,000 hours of wiretapping uncovered an extensive scheme of individuals taking kickbacks and seeking to influence state-owned energy companies, including state nuclear energy firm Energoatom, Ukraine’s biggest electricity producer. NABU said that this illicit cash was then laundered through the group’s back office. The mastermind of the scheme was allegedly Timur Mindich, a businessman and former close Zelensky ally.

While the scandal implicated some in Zelensky’s inner circle, Zelensky himself was not directly implicated, and he has said he welcomes the probe. In the wake of the scandal, senior officials, including Justice Minister German Galushchenko and Energy Minister Svetlana Grinchuk, resigned. Mindich reportedly fled to Israel prior to being charged.

The resignations, however, have not allayed public concern. These accusations emerged just months after Zelensky’s office and parliament attempted to strip NABU and the Specialized Anti-Corruption Prosecutor’s Office (SAPO) of their independence and place them under the supervision of Ukraine’s prosecutor-general, a political appointee. Moreover, the allegations landed at a particularly combustible moment. Ukraine’s government had already spent tens of millions of dollars to protect energy infrastructure from drones and missiles. With blackouts spreading and heat systems faltering, Ukrainians were enraged over allegations that funds meant to repair the country’s vulnerable energy sector at the start of the heating season had been siphoned off.

The corruption scandal also comes at a time of declining public trust more broadly. According to the Kyiv International Institute of Sociology, around 42 percent of Ukrainians believe that all current politicians and public officials are so tainted by the war and corruption that none of them should stay in power after peace. “Ukrainians are very tired of war and energy blackouts caused by the Russian attacks, and the energy scandal only worsens this,” said Anastasiia Bezpalko, a youth activist with a local anticorruption organization.

The scandal, activists say, is not an isolated episode but evidence of a systemic problem—one Ukraine must confront if it hopes to join the European Union, a goal it is pursuing even as the war grinds on. A central condition of accession, Bezpalko said, is preserving the independence of institutions like NABU and SAPO and ensuring that officials accused of corruption are held accountable.

In an email, NABU Director Semen Kryvonos said the demand to fight corruption in Ukraine has become “more specific and pressing” ​ since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. For all countries, he explained, “war creates increased corruption risks: quick decisions, large amounts of money, simplified procedures.” Though he declined to comment on ongoing cases, Kryvonos emphasized that he believes NABU is “the main instrument of Ukrainian society’s demand for justice. And it is very important for us that this ecosystem maintains its effectiveness.”

Now, the fallout from the scheme threatens to complicate relations with Western allies at a time when Ukraine badly needs air defense systems and reconstruction funds. The scandal could lead to a lack of trust in Ukrainian officials on an international level, said Georg Zachmann, a senior fellow at Bruegel, a Brussels-based think tank. Zachmann added that the scandal could, at its worst, “hinder international partners from investing in the structural measures needed to stabilize the country, making support increasingly short-termist.”

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Amid these political and diplomatic developments, the work of providing for civilians on the ground continues to fall to DSNS and workers like Anatoly.

DSNS workers have throughout the war been seen as “heroes,” a term that Klitschko had stressed in his meeting with Foreign Policy. In addition to operating the heating stations, DSNS is already responsible for so many aspects of life in Kyiv. Its staff responds to fires, car crashes, medical emergencies, evacuation orders, and blackouts. They are the first ones on the scene of Russian ​attacks and begin the work to rescue civilians often when drones and missiles are still flying overhead. That is “probably the saddest part,” Anatoly said. “The hardest job is saving people after the bombardments.”

Yet even simply keeping the heating stations running is also a precarious task. Each time air raid sirens sound, Anatoly and his team evacuate the tents and move residents to the basement of a nearby apartment building, often without electricity or heating. When the all-clear comes, they reopen the heating station and begin again.

Whatever happens, Anatoly remains resolute: “So many responsibilities fall on you, and you still have to carry them out.”