Sternenko on Russia’s $15B arms exports, threats to his life and work with Fedorov

Mushroom soup, seafood noodles with a carefully calculated balance of protein, fat and carbohydrates, and water — this is lunch for Serhii Sternenko, one of Ukraine’s best-known activists, volunteers and bloggers, and, more recently, an adviser to Ukraine’s defense minister on the use of drones in Russia’s war against Ukraine.

— Maybe a piece of cake? — I suggest. I brought the cake with me to add a little celebration to this rather spartan meal.

— No, I don’t like sweets, — Sternenko admits.

So I am the only one eating the cake.

The volunteer heats his food in a microwave and carries it into an office room with tightly closed blinds, where we meet to have lunch and talk for NV. Restaurants are an unattainable option for the Ukrainian volunteer most wanted by Russian hitmen, as are many things considered part of normal life.

We eat in a workroom where the walls are covered with photos showing Ukrainian drones of various types in action. During the conversation, Sternenko occasionally refers to the images to illustrate his point.

He is 31. At 10, he read Shevchenko’s entire “Kobzar.” At 18, he became a prominent voice of Odesa’s Euromaidan. Over the next 13 years, he went from a rebellious young man from the streets of Odesa to the head of the Sternenko Community charity fund, through which more than 7 billion hryvnias has already passed. He is also a YouTube blogger with an audience of 2 million subscribers and a person who directly influences the development of Ukraine’s drone industry. He is also a nightmare for Russian intelligence services and propagandists.

We meet with Sternenko on the eve of his birthday. A few days later, Ukraine’s Security Service would once again prevent an assassination attempt against him — the fifth.

— I live according to a clearly defined schedule. It makes life easier, but the restrictions are very significant, and I cannot talk about all of them, — Sternenko says, tasting his soup.

His time in public spaces or at public events is limited and planned in advance. There is no spontaneity, no outdoor parties with friends, no drives in his own car and no travel for pleasure. Instead, reading and exercising five times a week help him stay in some kind of shape.

— It seems there is no way out of this way of life for you, even if the war ends? — I ask.

— I realize that I will remain a target for Russian intelligence services forever, wherever I am, no matter how the war ends, as long as the Russian Federation exists, — Sternenko says with an ironic smile. — So it sounds dramatic, but I plan to outlive Russia.

— There is another way to survive — go into big politics, — I note.

— Why politics right away? I’m not interested in it. I even find it repulsive, — Sternenko reacts emotionally.

— Why?

— First, because of the way people treat you when you become a politician, — he explains, recalling comments he read under a news item about declining donations to his fund: from wishes for his death to suggestions that he sell his “Gelik,” the popular name for a Mercedes-Benz G-Class SUV, which Sternenko does not actually own.

— In politics, that attitude would be 10 times worse, — he says.

Second, the volunteer adds, the start of any election campaign divides Ukrainian society, which rallies around different figures and loses unity. In his view, this is already happening, even though the war is not over and there is no sign it is stopping.

As I sip my coffee, I note that he did become an adviser to Ukraine’s defense minister.

— I joined because it is Fedorov. I would not work with any other minister, — Sternenko says categorically.

Sternenko met Fedorov back in 2021, when they were already united by a shared interest in drones.

Distracted from the conversation, my interlocutor searches his phone for his first exchange of messages with the current defense minister.

But their real cooperation began in late 2023, during a difficult period when the U.S. Congress had suspended aid to Ukraine and the army was experiencing a noticeable shortage of artillery. Sternenko visited the area near Bakhmut, where the 93rd Brigade was holding the line. From there, he recorded a 15-minute video in which he spoke frankly about the lack of artillery and about how drones, while not replacing artillery, helped hold positions on the most difficult sections of the front — and represented Ukraine’s future.

— After that video, Fedorov called me and asked what kind of help was needed. He became a bridge to talks with the General Staff and Gen. Zaluzhnyi, — Sternenko says.

Then came long discussions with military leadership. By 2024, almost every battalion had a drone unit, and the war had changed its technological nature. In 2025, Ukrainian drones caused nearly 90% of all combat losses suffered by the Russian army.

My interlocutor moves on to spaghetti, and I pick up the topic of drones. First, I ask about Ukraine’s trump cards beyond Russia’s war against Ukraine.

— Yes, it suddenly turned out that we do have “cards,” — Sternenko says with a smile.

— And what can we offer the world?

— First of all, experience in modern land warfare. Interceptor drones are not unique to us, but no one else has the tactics of using them, the team coordination during interception and the real combat experience that changes quickly. This is our unique combat experience, — Sternenko says.

After thinking for a moment, he adds that only two other armies have comparable experience today: the Russian and North Korean armies. Iran, too, is quickly learning from the Russians how to exhaust an enemy’s air defenses.

— And what Ukrainian technological solutions are interesting? — I ask.

— Our innovation cycle is interesting, both in small strike drones and in long-range strikes, — Sternenko answers without hesitation.

He explains that the war gives Ukraine the opportunity to move through a very fast cycle: every three to four months, the enemy finds a way around the current development, and Ukrainian engineers come up with something new.

— But there are foreign companies testing their drones in our war as if on a proving ground, — I note.

— That is true. Many foreign engineers and companies have come here during the war and have direct contact with our drone operators on the front line. That makes it even more important for us to start exporting our own technologies as soon as possible, — Sternenko says, clearly unhappy with the situation.

— But didn’t we seem to start limited exports? — I ask.

— As far as I know, this has still not been implemented in practice, — he replies quickly.

— All else being equal, which drone is more likely to be bought today — Ukrainian or Taiwanese? — I ask.

— Right now, probably Taiwanese, while we still have issues with exports. We have tied our own hands. That is why we need to open exports as soon as possible, bring money into our economy, scale up production and thereby make it cheaper. The Ukrainian army will only benefit from this.

Sternenko explains that if Ukraine does not build ties in the arms market now, it could easily lose the window of opportunity it currently has. The system will rebuild itself, and entering the global market will become extremely difficult.

Finally, he adds one last argument:

— The Russians earned $15 billion from arms exports last year, even though they have a noticeable shortage of weapons.

After finishing the meal, we continue talking about Russian weapons.

— We see a certain shortage of weapons in Russia — both air defense missiles and the systems themselves. There are many videos from our deep-strike operators showing an enemy system standing there and not firing at incoming drones, — Sternenko says, adjusting the glasses that have recently become part of his image.

— In those glasses, you look even more like Harry Potter, “the boy who lived,” — I smile, and at the same time ask whether the glasses are a way of transforming from the scourge of Odesa’s pro-Russian bohemia into the person he is today.

— Why only pro-Russian? Russian, too. I still remember how we disrupted Raikin’s concert in Odesa in 2017, — Sternenko says, a smile appearing on his face at the memory.

But he quickly returns to the present and responds to the comparison with Potter:

— I even have a scar on my forehead, though a small one. Still, I plan to keep surviving. I wear glasses for a banal reason: my eyesight has worsened.

From drones, we move on to the Sternenko Community fund, which now helps supply drones to more than 500 units. I ask its founder whether the scandal involving another volunteer organization, Hospitallers, has affected the fund.

— No, Russian attacks on the energy sector and the overall decline in Ukrainians’ welfare have affected us the most. Over the past month, the fund’s income dropped from 300 million to 180 million hryvnias a month. Most of our donors are individuals, and the average donation last month was 273 hryvnias, — he says, opening the reports with one click.

— A large number of people who donate to you probably watch your daily episodes of “What’s Up in Russia,” — I note. — They seem to have a calming effect. In them, Russia may be dangerous, but at the same time it is incompetent, pitiful and ridiculous.

— People need something to watch over dinner, — Sternenko says with a smile. — I think that is part of the popularity of these videos. And secondly, I like studying Russia. I believe we can bring it down by concentrating strikes on its energy infrastructure.

Sternenko says trust in the fund is maintained through rapid reporting on how donations are used by military units — something that is also part of his broadcasts.

People see that they donate today, and tomorrow a drone is already going to work.

— Today, as a fund, you supply drones to Ukrainian units on an industrial scale. Come Back Alive repairs military equipment. The Prytula Foundation leases a satellite. What do you see as the future of large charitable foundations in the country? — I ask.

— I think Ukrainian charitable foundations should become drivers of innovation, — my interlocutor replies immediately. It is clear he has thought about this more than once. — Like we had with Sting, the most effective Ukrainian-made interceptor drone. We help find a solution, become the driver of that solution, help carry out the first stage of scaling and hand it over to the state or to foundations that will take care of it further. Foundations receive the fastest feedback on the quality and performance of such innovations. In our fund, we deliberately accept drone requests not from unit commanders, but only from drone operators, although commanders sometimes take offense.

After taking a sip of tea, he continues:

— And second, we must continue to provide flexible support. If the intensity of fighting suddenly increases somewhere and focused assistance is needed, a fund will do it faster.

I then ask Sternenko about the three main problems facing the Defense Forces today. He names only one:

— The attitude toward people. That is the main problem.

— As if they were property or a resource? — I ask.

— That too. We still have units where people are not treated as people. There is a part of the Ukrainian generalship for whom the phrase is still relevant: If you have no losses, you are not fighting. In other words, a commander’s effectiveness is measured by the level of losses. I believe the Ukrainian army cannot afford this attitude. We are not Russia. Losing a person is very costly. And we will run out faster than the Russians.

Sternenko then speaks passionately about the Defense Ministry’s idea of conducting an audit of Ukrainian losses, an idea he strongly supports.

— We still count enemy losses very well, but only roughly understand the scale of our own losses, — the activist adds.

— You recently met with the president. Did you talk to him about this? — I ask.

— Yes, I did. It was an honest conversation, and it seems the president accepted the idea.

I finish my coffee and ask Sternenko the final question:

— In March 2021, participants in the “Can’t Hear? You’ll See!” protest, who opposed your detention, set fire to the doors of the Presidential Office. The damage was then estimated at nearly 2 million hryvnias. Has the president forgiven you?

Sternenko smiles slightly:

— We talked about it in the context of how everything changes, so everything is fine between us.

Five questions for Serhii Sternenko

— What was the hardest day of all these years of full-scale war, apart from the day of the invasion?

— When the Verkhovna Rada voted to strip NABU and SAPO of their independence. It felt like a punch to the gut.

— What was the day of your greatest triumph or great joy over these four years?

— I would not say it was one day. It was all the days when our people were freed. Both territories and prisoners.

— What is the most expensive thing you bought for yourself personally over the past year?

— A computer monitor.

— Do you have what is called a guilty pleasure — something harmful or forbidden that you allow yourself from time to time?

— Probably not.

— What do you control in your life now that you wish you did not have to control?

— My schedule.