My Money Is Not Yours, Comrade Regulator

Imagine this: you’ve spent years working hard, saving, taking risks, paying taxes (well, at least some), and finally managed to save up for an apartment in Spain. Not a villa with a pool for Instagram selfies, but a decent two-bedroom by the sea — somewhere to escape to if the “second phase” drags on. The money is yours, hard-earned, legal. And then — bam! — the National Bank of Ukraine says: “Stop, kid. That’s not your money. That’s our reserves. Sit tight and don’t make a move.”

Sounds like a bad joke from the ‘90s, right? No, this is the official policy of the NBU in 2026.
Martial law, you say? Got it. But somehow, under this pretext, the state decided that your right to manage your own assets is not a right, but a privilege that can be taken away in a snap.

The NBU’s basic rule: all cross-border transfers by individuals are prohibited. Only specific exceptions are allowed, directly listed in the regulation. Studying abroad — allowed. Medical treatment — allowed. Supporting relatives — that’s fine too. But buying an apartment in Barcelona or Berlin? Sorry, comrade, not provided for. The bank simply won’t process the payment.
“Investment in real estate” as a reason? Ha-ha, don’t make me laugh. That’s not on the sacred list of humanitarian needs.

There used to be at least some “e-limit” — about 200,000 euros a year for investments. But under martial law it was strangled, and it’s not applied. That’s it. Period.
There is simply no legal banking way to transfer a decent amount of money from Ukraine to the EU to buy real estate. Banks just shrug: “Regulation No. 18 of February 24, 2022, point 14. We’re not allowed.”

And this is where the circus begins.

People who managed to get their money out before all these restrictions — well done, they made it. Those who keep assets abroad — also in clover.
And the rest?
The rest either sit on their suitcases with “gray” schemes, or quietly curse in group chats and look for workarounds through crypto, non-resident friends, or other semi-legal paths.
Risky? You bet!
You could end up with blocked accounts, questions from financial monitoring, and all the other joys of the “fight against capital outflow.”

Now, here’s the main question that should burn for anyone with even a single brain cell and a single hryvnia earned outside government service: “Why the hell does the state so brazenly infringe on a person’s right to manage their own assets?”

Money isn’t just paper or numbers in a banking app. It’s a form of “property.” You earned it, you paid taxes on it (again, as best you could), you bear the risks of inflation, devaluation, and all the other “delights” of the Ukrainian economy. So why does some regulator in Kyiv decide that you have no right to buy yourself a home abroad, but must keep everything here — just in case they need to plug budget holes or support the hryvnia?

This isn’t “protecting the economy.” This is the classic Soviet approach: “Everything around is collective, everything around is mine.” Only now, the collective farm is called “martial law,” and the chairman is the National Bank. Like, we’ll let you spend on treatment and education. But to secure your future and your family’s safety — sorry, not allowed. Sit at home, patriot, and be glad you can transfer money to grandma for her medicine.

Sarcasm aside. In reality, this is a deep blow to the right to private property. If today you can’t buy an apartment in Spain because of “reserves,” then tomorrow you won’t be able to sell your place in Kyiv and transfer the money out. The day after tomorrow — they’ll ban holding foreign currency deposits altogether. And then they’ll remember that a car is also an asset that can be “allocated for the needs of the front.”

The state loves to repeat, “We’re all in the same boat.” Great. Only, for some reason, some row while others steer. And when the boat sinks, it’s not the ticket-holding passengers who get saved first, but those at the helm.

Today’s Ukrainian is a person who is simultaneously asked to “hold the line,” “pay taxes,” and “not move capital abroad,” because “it’s necessary.” And when he asks, “Can I just live like a normal European and invest in my own future?” — he’s told: “Martial law, brother. Suck it up.”

Well, “brother.” You can only endure so much. When the state starts acting like the owner of your money instead of its protector — these are no longer temporary measures. It’s a signal: your property is conditional. It’s yours until we decide otherwise.

And that’s when people start looking for workarounds. Not because they’re “unpatriotic.” But because the instinct for self-preservation is stronger than any point in an NBU regulation.

Hello, NBU!

Want real stability and capital returns? Start simple: stop acting like citizens’ money is a state resource that can be restricted at will. Give people back the right to manage what’s theirs. And you’ll see fewer “gray schemes” and more trust.

For now — hold on to your reserves. Just don’t be surprised later when the smart and hardworking quietly pack their bags and think: “Maybe in Spain there are fewer regulations, but more respect for private property.”

Because money isn’t just currency. It’s freedom. And as we know, freedom isn’t listed in NBU regulations.