Tamara Chikunova, a well-known Uzbek human rights activist who campaigned against the death penalty and torture, died in Italy on March 31. I first met her in 2000, on the day she was told that her son had been executed.
In April 1999, Tamara Chikunova’s 29-year-old son Dmitry was “invited” to a police station in Tashkent “to provide explanations,” where he was detained. He was later charged with double murder and forced to incriminate himself under torture. During our meeting, Tamara Ivanovna let me read her son’s letters describing the brutal torture to which he had been subjected.
A court sentenced Dmitry Chikunov to death, and the young man was executed by shooting in 2000. Tamara Chikunova was not even told where her son had been buried — under Uzbek law, relatives were not allowed to visit the burial places of executed family members.
On the day she learned of her son’s execution, Chikunova agreed to meet with me and give an interview. Before that, she had been afraid that speaking to journalists could harm her child. Those conducting the investigation into the double murder had convinced her of this.
After her son’s execution, Chikunova began speaking to journalists and devoted her life to fighting against abuse of power, torture and the death penalty. We encountered each other at numerous press conferences in Tashkent, where relatives of other people sentenced to death tried to draw as much attention as possible to the fate of their loved ones.
The Uzbek authorities never registered Chikunova’s organization, Mothers Against the Death Penalty and Torture. But in 2008, partly thanks to Tamara Chikunova’s efforts, the death penalty was abolished in Uzbekistan. Chikunova’s work was recognized with a number of prestigious international awards. According to some reports, the activities of her organization saved the lives of at least 100 people.
In 2001, I asked Uzbekistan’s then-president, the late Islam Karimov, two questions: “When will torture end in the country? How many people are executed in Uzbekistan?”
In response to the question about torture, Karimov launched into lengthy philosophical reflections on the nature of human evil and its various aspects. But to the second question, he gave a direct answer — around or more than 100 people a year. Karimov gave a relatively precise figure, but I do not want to risk getting it wrong now. Neither before nor after that did Uzbekistan disclose figures on executions.
After the Dmitry Chikunov case, I became a committed opponent of the death penalty. Under torture, very many people will confess to almost anything and may come to believe that death is better than suffering.
From a letter from Dmitry Chikunov to his mother: “I beg you, my dear mama, if this letter reaches you, please be very careful: these people are capable of any meanness! I ask you to forgive me if we are not destined to see each other again. Remember that I am innocent, I did not shed blood! I love you very much, you are the only person dear to me. Please remember me. I kiss you tightly, your son.”
And one more thing. Fortunately, the death penalty has been abolished in Uzbekistan for many years, and the authorities are fighting torture. But even today, in difficult situations, do not be afraid to turn to journalists and bloggers. No matter how much you are threatened or intimidated. Perhaps this is the only way you can save your loved ones or yourself.
About twenty years ago, my mother told me the story of a colleague of hers, a teacher who had two sons. At the time, someone broke into an institution to steal computers, and one person was killed in the course of the burglary. The teacher’s son was taken in by the authorities and forced under torture to sign a confession.
My mother asked her why she had not turned to Marina or other journalists. She explained that she had been threatened — if she spoke out, she was told, she would lose her second child as well. The teacher remained silent. Her son was executed. Of course, it was wrong to sacrifice the life of one’s own child because of a potential danger to another. I cannot imagine how she lived with that, or for how long.
I understood from my very first meeting with Tamara Chikunova that she should have been shouting about the injustice done to her son from the moment he was detained. But I could not tell her that or say it publicly. I could not while Chikunova was alive.
Tamara Chikunova was born in Tashkent in 1948. In independent Uzbekistan, she worked in real estate. After her son’s execution, she devoted herself to human rights advocacy. She died in Italy, where she had lived in recent years, on March 31, 2021.
