How the Russian regime silenced a man who set himself on fire in protest against the war
“He knew that no one would ever find out about it.”
Hi! It’s been a while.
Back in February, after the Estonian Foreign Intelligence Service published its public threat assessment, something kept nagging at me. Tucked away within the information were two sentences mentioning a man in Kaliningrad who had set himself on fire in protest against the war in Ukraine.
Surely a case like this couldn’t have gone unnoticed on social media or in the Russian press? I asked several of my Russian friends and colleagues if they knew anything about the case. Could they search through local media sites and Telegram channels for any reference to this tragic event? They came back empty-handed. In fact, my colleague Ilya Ber admitted he didn’t even believe the report at first.
That’s when we set out to learn more about what happened that day in Kaliningrad. Who was the victim? Why hadn’t anyone heard about this clear act of protest against Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine?
Our first step was to identify every man born in 1988 who had died that day in Kaliningrad. We found two matches. A little more research, including obtaining a confidential Investigative Committee document, allowed us to verify Aleksandr Okunev as the protester.
We spoke to people close to Okunev, who described him as a smart, quick-witted, but quiet and withdrawn man. He worked as a programmer and system administrator for a company selling office and cash register equipment. “He had a very good head on his shoulders. If he had wanted to, he could have had a very successful career, but it seemed that money didn’t matter to him,” said one former colleague.
What happened on February 24 — the third anniversary of Russia’s full-scale invasion — came as a shock even to those closest to him. At around 5:00 a.m., he entered Kaliningrad’s Victory Park. The park is a deeply symbolic place, filled with Soviet war memorials.
Near the Memorial to 1,200 Guardsmen, which commemorates the Soviet victory in the capture of what was then Königsberg in 1945, he wrote “No to war” in the snow — likely with spray paint — and set himself on fire.
Someone discovered his body at around 6:40 a.m. and notified the authorities. A European intelligence official familiar with the case told us that what followed was a frantic rush by the authorities to scrub the scene of any traces of fire or protest.
“Their main goal was to quickly remove the body and eliminate the writing in the snow,” the official said. “A separate concern was whether anyone would notice the cleaners and investigators working at the scene.”
By 9:15 a.m., the scene was cleared, and the incident was reported to regional government leaders.
What makes this even more tragic is that Okunev knew exactly how his desperate act would be handled. In fact, he said as much in his farewell note to his family.
“He did it knowing that it probably wouldn’t appear in the news and that everything would be done to keep it out of sight. He took this step fully aware of that,” a person close to him—wishing to remain anonymous—told us.
“In his note, he wrote that he knew how it would go. Everything he wrote turned out exactly that way,” they said. “There were many personal things in the note, but he also wrote that it most likely wouldn’t make the news. He understood that. So, the assumption that this was meant to be something very visible—that’s not really the case.”
Why did the regime go to such lengths to keep Okunev’s self-immolation out of the public eye? Was it for fear of sparking wider protests? Were local officials simply afraid of being held responsible for a scandal on their watch? Or is it because the state demands total conformity in Russian society?
The experts we spoke with don’t believe Okunev’s act would have sparked a larger movement. However, I believe the Russian regime is afraid of any spark, however small, that might grow.
I also believe it was important to bring Aleksandr Okunev’s protest to light, despite those close to him questioning the point.
“At one time, an act may be considered heroic, but at another time, not at all. History is what it is. How something is evaluated changes all the time,” one person told us.
As mentioned above, this investigation was a collaboration between us at Delfi (in Estonian and in Russian), the Lithuanian Public Broadcaster LRT, and the independent Russian investigative outlet iStories. If you are interested in more details and expert views on how the regime covered up Okunev’s act, please read our full reports.
I hope the change of tone doesn’t feel too abrupt, but on a much lighter note, Delfi’s investigative team visited our colleagues at Helsingin Sanomat yesterday to discuss new opportunities for cooperation.
Our visit was a follow-up to the HS team’s visit to Tallinn last autumn. The results of that first meeting were the shadow fleet investigations we published back in March. Let’s see what grows out of yesterday’s meeting!
Thank you, and greetings from the middle of the Gulf of Finland!
Holger