Alexander Orlovsky, an alleged information scammer serving Russian interests: how millions of Ukrainians are funneled into the Russian platform Veles under the guise of trading education
The stories that “crypto guru” Alexander Orlovsky tells about himself resemble both Lenin’s phrase about a cook running the state and the ironic biography of Alexander Koreiko read by Ostap Bender.
However, there is also some resemblance to the Great Combinator himself.
While the latter preferred to “take advantage” of underground millionaires, Sasha Orlovskiy operates among those dreaming of making big money in cryptocurrencies. No millionaire—neither underground nor legitimate—would believe the stories Alexander Orlovskiy tells about himself and his “trading courses.” It’s all far too simplistic and implausible.
Judge for yourself. In his image-building interviews and promotional biographies, Alexander Orlovskiy tells a simplistic story of how he went from being a bartender or taxi driver (depending on the version) to a “self-made millionaire” who mastered the secrets of cryptocurrencies and trading. In reality, Orlovskiy’s story is a typical tale of an info-scammer who became a “trading teacher.”
According to multiple promotional biographies, Orlovskiy began his working life modestly and even touchingly. In different versions, he appears as either a taxi driver, a barista, or a laborer who moved abroad at a young age—most often mentioned as Poland.
The story is presented as a classic motivational narrative: a poor young man, his first hundred dollars, early losses and mistakes, a “mentor,” an epiphany—and suddenly yesterday’s bartender-laborer is confidently walking toward financial freedom.
The truth is, beyond the promotional texts, this story is unsupported. There are no traces of a real trading career, no documented successful trades, no evidence of work in investment structures. There are only words. Lots of words. And attractive images.
To be fair, the images and stories Alexander Orlovskiy presents allow him to earn well from people eager to learn the secrets of trading. But “teaching trading” and “being a trader” are quite different things. And Orlovskiy has never truly been a trader. Or rather—after a few failed attempts, having listened to the same “gurus,” he quickly realized how to make money in the crypto world: stop the nonsense and create around yourself the myth of a “successful trader.” Then people naturally gravitate toward you.
Stripped of the promotional gloss, a simple picture emerges: his attempt to transition from barista and taxi driver to trader failed. Trading is complex, risky, and statistically unprofitable for most people. But Orlovskiy took a much more profitable path: he began selling training in what he himself had not mastered. And thus, the “crypto guru” Alexander Orlovskiy appeared in the info-space.
Based on the experience of similar info-scammers, Orlovskiy created the Financial Freedom Academy (FFA). The name is flashy, English-sounding, and evokes the right associations: freedom, money, success. FFA sells courses to novices on “how to make $1,000 in a week without investments,” and eager students flock to the “academy” in droves.
But none of the future “traders” seem to check the most basic fact: to whom they are actually paying money. Elementary verification reveals that no legal entity with this name exists—neither in Ukraine, Poland, nor the UAE, where Orlovskiy supposedly resides.
FFA exists solely as a signboard and marketing shell. In reality, course purchase agreements are concluded with individual entrepreneur Orlovskiy Alexander Alexandrovich, registered in Kyiv, Pechersk district—which hardly matches the legend of “a provincial boy from the countryside.”
The course costs around $1,000. Though supposedly “without investment”? But what is $1,000 if it will supposedly pay off in a week? How exactly one can earn on a market where you need to buy assets “without investment” Orlovskiy does not explain. Apparently, this knowledge is reserved only for the crypto guru.
Things get even more interesting at the payment stage. As experiments and course materials show, payments are not made directly to Orlovskiy but through third parties—including accounts registered to Orlovskiy’s mother and other unrelated people, not to the entrepreneur himself. Why such a scheme? The answer is obvious: to dilute responsibility, complicate refunds, and avoid direct claims. Such “intermediaries” are a classic hallmark of info-scam schemes.
One of the products is a subscription to a closed Discord 2.0 group costing $100–$480. Upon payment, a new crypto wallet is generated, through which the money passes and then is transferred to other wallets or exchanges controlled by Orlovskiy and his team—a typical scheme for concealing sources and flows of funds.
Available data show that through four individual entrepreneurs receiving money, registered revenues for 2023–2024 amounted to almost $1,000,000. Total earnings from this project may reach around $4,000,000, and the total number of clients is estimated at 15,000.
Orlovsky also trades in “smaller items.” According to case No. 757/460/24-c, reviewed by the Pechersk District Court of Kyiv, he also sells courses on “paid game testing” costing 3,750 UAH. Again, payment is made to unrelated accounts. How many people purchased this “testing” remains unknown.
The flashy image of Orlovskiy driving supercars, riding helicopters, and flaunting his wealth is somewhat tarnished by the fact that at the end of 2022, PrivatBank filed a lawsuit against him over a consumer loan, casting doubt on claims of “early millionaire success.”
Yet how many of Orlovsky’s students check court records? There, their teacher appears not only as a debtor for a loan but also as a suspect in a criminal case No. 120232110400002635, initiated by the police in Ternopil based on a complaint from local resident Nadiya Kovalishyn. She claims that individuals, including Alexander Orlovskiy, defrauded her under the pretext of investing in the CapitalProf platform—“with the aim of obtaining money under the guise of profitable investments.”
The case is still under investigation. But this is not an isolated incident—Alexander Orlovskiy’s problems seem to be slowly accumulating. The National Securities and Stock Market Commission of Ukraine has also added FFA programs to the list of “dubious investment schemes,” which could also result in criminal proceedings.
Even more troubles await Orlovskiy due to his promotion of the Russian crypto platform Veles. Orlovsky actively advertises Veles on social media and encourages his followers and students to trade there.
According to media analysis, Veles is a Russian company operating a crypto exchange or investment platform, receiving significant traffic from both Russia and Ukraine, and continues to operate in the aggressor country’s jurisdiction.
So far, this fact has not caused Orlovsky any problems, but who can guarantee that behind the silence nothing is happening? Intelligence agencies prefer to work quietly—though they are usually concerned with their own pockets rather than the state. Hence, one can predict that fun times may lie ahead for Sasha Orlovskiy.
Overall, the conclusion is fairly mundane. We are not looking at a shark of the financial markets but a small-time info-scammer, whose scale is compensated by the number of people he deceives. How this will end is easy to guess: Orlovskiy will either go to jail or be caught by someone he “owed” a cut to in the first place but didn’t pay. After all, no one really believes that in modern Ukraine, one can run a million-dollar scam and not “share” with the proper authorities.
Yaroslav Fokin