In a move that has shocked Ukrainian officials and drawn global scrutiny, a man convicted of state treason in Ukraine is now orbiting Earth aboard the International Space Station (ISS) as part of a Russian-led mission.
On April 8, 2025, a Soyuz MS-27 spacecraft launched from the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan carrying three crew members bound for the ISS: Russian cosmonaut Sergey Ryzhikov, NASA astronaut Johnny Kim, and 32-year-old Alexey Zubritsky—an ex-Ukrainian Air Force officer now branded a traitor by his former country.
Zubritsky’s inclusion in the mission marks a first: never before has someone with an active criminal conviction for state treason set foot aboard the ISS.
His background came to light in the days leading up to the launch, after the investigative program Sistema, produced by Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty and Voice of America, revealed Zubritsky’s military history. Ukrainian military records indicate he served as a pilot in a Crimean-based unit before Russia’s annexation of the peninsula in 2014. When Ukrainian forces were ordered to regroup on the mainland, Zubritsky ignored official directives and remained in Crimea—ultimately aligning himself with Russian forces.
On March 11, 2025, a Ukrainian court in Vinnytsia convicted Zubritsky in absentia of state treason. The court found that between March and May 2014, Zubritsky “deliberately defected to the enemy side out of personal interest.” He failed to report to his assigned post on the mainland, failed to notify superiors of his whereabouts, and instead joined Russian military units operating in the region.
Despite Ukraine’s repeated efforts to prosecute military defectors from the 2014 conflict, Zubritsky’s case stands out because of its visibility. His participation in one of the world’s most politically sensitive and symbolically powerful endeavors—international spaceflight—has amplified its impact.
After his defection, Zubritsky reportedly served in several Russian air units across Crimea and southern Russia. By 2018, he was accepted into the Russian space agency’s cosmonaut training program. In 2024, Roscosmos listed him as undergoing training at the European Space Agency (ESA) facility in Cologne, Germany—despite his status as a wanted man in Ukraine.
Neither Roscosmos nor NASA has addressed the controversy publicly. When contacted for comment, both agencies reiterated their focus on mission integrity and international cooperation aboard the ISS but offered no remarks on Zubritsky’s legal status.
Kyiv officials expressed dismay, accusing Russia of deliberately flaunting Zubritsky’s launch as a political statement. Ukrainian Foreign Ministry spokesperson Oleh Nikolenko described the move as “a calculated insult” and criticized Roscosmos for what he called “the normalization of betrayal.”
“This man abandoned his oath, turned his back on his country during a time of war, and is now being elevated to the status of a space hero by Russia,” Nikolenko said in a televised address. “The silence from our Western partners is disappointing.”
Ukrainian lawmakers have urged international space agencies and their political backers to formally condemn the move, arguing that Zubritsky’s presence onboard undermines the supposed apolitical nature of space exploration.
NASA’s involvement has drawn attention as well. Johnny Kim, the American astronaut aboard the same mission, is a Navy SEAL combat veteran, physician, and former pilot—a profile that underscores the complicated optics of having a U.S. national share a space capsule with someone Ukraine considers a traitor.
NASA officials have downplayed the political dimensions of the mission. “This mission was planned well in advance and follows the current agreement for crew swaps between NASA and Roscosmos to ensure continued operation of the ISS,” a spokesperson said. “NASA remains committed to scientific discovery and peaceful international cooperation in space.”
That cooperation, however, is under increasing strain. With the ISS scheduled to be decommissioned by the end of the decade, Russia is moving ahead with plans for its own independent orbital station, and has expanded collaboration with China on lunar and satellite programs. The West, meanwhile, is investing heavily in commercial partnerships and long-term Mars exploration goals.
Zubritsky’s trajectory—from a young Ukrainian pilot to a convicted traitor turned Russian cosmonaut—is emblematic of the many personal and political transformations set off by the war in Ukraine. His case now stands at the intersection of loyalty, propaganda, and the long-standing tension between Russia’s desire for prestige and Ukraine’s pursuit of justice.
“This is not just about one man going to space,” said Oksana Romanyuk, director of the Institute of Mass Information in Kyiv. “This is about Russia sending a very specific message: that those who side with it will be rewarded, no matter the circumstances. That’s a dangerous precedent.”
Others argue it’s part of a broader Russian strategy of symbolic victories, particularly in legacy domains like space. Once a cooperative arena between Cold War foes, space is increasingly being used to make geopolitical statements.
“Having a defector-turned-cosmonaut is more than just a personnel decision—it’s theater,” said Alexei Levinson, a sociologist with the Levada Center. “And it’s meant for both domestic and international audiences.”
The presence of Zubritsky on the ISS may not affect daily operations, but it adds yet another layer of complexity to life aboard a station already subject to geopolitical undercurrents. With American, Russian, European, and Japanese astronauts living and working in close quarters, the station has long required the kind of collaboration that seems increasingly rare on Earth.
Yet even that fragile cooperation is being tested. While the international community has largely sidestepped direct confrontation over Zubritsky’s case, there is growing concern that incidents like this will erode the shared values that once underpinned space exploration.
As for Zubritsky, his future remains uncertain. His conviction stands, and any travel beyond Russia-friendly borders could trigger extradition requests. But for now, he’s 400 kilometers above Earth, shielded by the politics of orbit, floating in a vessel built on cooperation, but now shadowed by division.
