When Czech grandmaster David Navara wrote his long, emotional open letter in May 2025, it was not a post meant to score points in a chess feud. It was a cry for help. A quiet, introverted man known for his sportsmanship and humility, Navara said he had reached a point where he “couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think,” and at times, had even thought about ending his life.
What drove one of the most respected players in modern chess to such despair? The answer lies in the accusations indirectly made by former World Champion Vladimir Kramnik, and in the deafening silence of the very institution meant to protect players — FIDE, the International Chess Federation.
A Storm Begins: Kramnik’s Public Crusade
In late 2024, Vladimir Kramnik, the 14th World Chess Champion, began publishing a series of posts suggesting that cheating was rampant in online chess. He supported his claims with self-compiled statistics, claiming that some players were performing “too accurately” in fast time controls, particularly in the popular Titled Tuesday tournaments on Chess.com.
He didn’t explicitly name David Navara — but Navara’s name appeared in one of the data charts, and it was clear who Kramnik was referring to. Overnight, a grandmaster who had built a two-decade-long reputation for honesty and fairness was suddenly implied to be a cheater in front of hundreds of thousands of chess fans.
Navara described reading that post as a punch to the chest.
“If 200,000 people read such a post and only one percent of them start to doubt me,” he wrote, “that’s already 2,000 people. That number is unbearable.”
What made the situation worse was that Kramnik’s analysis was deeply flawed. His statistical model assumed that players performing well under time pressure — say, with less than 10 seconds left — must be suspicious. Navara pointed out the absurdity of this: if someone were truly using an engine, they wouldn’t be short on time in the first place.
Worse still, Chess.com had previously banned Kramnik himself for playing under another grandmaster’s account — a violation of the platform’s rules. For Navara, it felt like irony turned cruel: “the accuser” had broken the rules, yet his words carried far greater influence than any defense Navara could offer.
Isolation, Anxiety, and the Sound of Silence
After the post went viral, Navara did what any rational person would do. He filed a formal complaint to FIDE, asking the organization to examine Kramnik’s claims and to take a stance.
At first, he felt hopeful. A member of FIDE’s Fair Play Commission privately acknowledged that Navara’s record was spotless. Kenneth Regan, a well-known anti-cheating expert, analyzed Navara’s games and found no sign of irregularity.
But then, everything went silent.
Weeks passed. Then months. FIDE stopped replying altogether. No one confirmed receipt of his complaint. No one offered emotional support or even a polite acknowledgment.
Navara said that during this period, he fell into deep depression, unable to sleep, unable to focus, and eventually needing psychological help.
“I told FIDE in my letters that I was struggling with insomnia and depression. I said I was suffering, and yet they didn’t respond at all,” he wrote. “Not even a simple, ‘We’re sorry, we can’t help right now.’”
For a player like Navara — soft-spoken, known for his politeness, and for once giving back a winning move out of fairness to an opponent — this silence was devastating. He had spent his entire career representing the values of integrity and respect that chess prides itself on. Now, he felt abandoned by the very system he had always upheld.
A Bureaucratic Reply — Seven Months Too Late
It wasn’t until December 2024, nearly seven months later, that FIDE finally issued an official response. But instead of compassion or clarity, what Navara received was a bureaucratic technicality.
The federation’s legal officer informed him that his original complaint had been filed incorrectly — and that only the Ethics and Disciplinary Commission (EDC) had jurisdiction to handle it. If he wanted to pursue the case, he would need to submit everything again using a specific form.
For Navara, this was the final blow.
“If my letter was in the wrong format,” he asked, “why didn’t they tell me that seven months ago, when I was at my lowest point?”
Someone from inside FIDE did privately write to him, saying, “You’re one of the most honest players we know. Please let it go.” But there was still no apology, no accountability, no action.
It was as if the federation was hoping the problem would quietly disappear.
FIDE’s Statement: Acknowledgment Without Action
In June 2025, after mounting public pressure, FIDE finally released a statement.
The document began with assurances that the federation takes “fair play” seriously and that it would form a task force to review Kramnik’s proposed anti-cheating methods.
However, the tone quickly shifted. FIDE admitted that the way Kramnik had presented his data “brought harm to the chess community” and that his words could be “ruinous to the well-being of certain players.” It explicitly named Navara as someone who had been deeply affected by the controversy and reaffirmed that throughout his career, he had maintained an “unquestionable reputation for fair play.”
But beyond this moral acknowledgment, no real steps were taken.
There was no disciplinary action against Kramnik. No official apology to Navara. No public exoneration beyond a few carefully worded sentences. And even as FIDE called on Kramnik to withdraw his defamation lawsuit against Navara, the organization did not intervene directly.
It was yet another example of the chess world’s growing divide — between ethical ideals and political convenience.
A Man on the Edge
Navara’s letter gave the world a rare, vulnerable look into the emotional cost of false accusations. He described how, at 15, he had already struggled with dark thoughts — and how this experience reignited them.
“When I was 15, I once thought about ending my life. Now, after all this, those thoughts returned,” he admitted.
He also revealed that he was seeing a psychologist, not because of professional failure or personal loss, but because of the social destruction caused by unverified claims and the indifference of those in power.
For a player of his stature — a multiple-time Olympiad medalist, former world top-20 grandmaster, and a figure universally respected for his sportsmanship — this wasn’t just a scandal. It was a psychological tragedy.
The Death of Daniel Naroditsky: The Tragedy That Shook Chess
Then came another tragedy — the sudden death of American grandmaster Daniel Naroditsky in October 2025. A beloved player, commentator, and coach, Naroditsky had also been one of the names Kramnik repeatedly accused of cheating in recent months.
After Naroditsky’s passing, Kramnik wrote a series of cryptic and defensive posts claiming he had “warned Daniel he had problems” and that others had ignored his “warnings.” Many in the chess world were horrified.
FIDE’s Director General Emil Sutovsky condemned Kramnik’s comments as “shameful,” while FIDE President Arkady Dvorkovich announced that the federation would refer all of Kramnik’s public statements — before and after Naroditsky’s death — to the Ethics and Disciplinary Commission for investigation.
The outcry was massive. Chess fans, grandmasters, and commentators questioned how far things had gone. What had started as a debate about fair play had now crossed into moral territory — and a young man’s death had forced everyone to confront the consequences of reckless accusations.
For many, including those close to Navara, Naroditsky’s death felt like the darkest warning possible of what unchecked public attacks can do. The parallels were chilling: both were quiet, kind, and deeply respected figures — and both were targeted by the same voice.
“Because We Care”?
In his open letter, Navara quoted FIDE President Arkady Dvorkovich’s slogan — “Because we care” — and called it “deeply ironic.”
“Mr. Dvorkovich says ‘Because we care,’ yet I was left without any response for six months, despite clearly saying I was in distress. I believe he bears responsibility and should resign,” Navara wrote.
Now, after Naroditsky’s death and Kramnik’s continued defiance — including his recent threat to sue FIDE for investigating him — that irony feels heavier than ever.
The chess world is watching to see whether FIDE’s Ethics Commission will act decisively, or whether history will repeat itself — with compassion once again replaced by bureaucracy.
The Lesson: Transparency, Humanity, and Responsibility
Navara has since dropped any legal pursuit. But his testimony remains a powerful warning about what happens when powerful voices are left unchecked and institutions fail to act.
Accusations of cheating — even when phrased as “questions” or “statistics” — have the power to destroy careers and lives. They should be handled with care, evidence, and empathy, not tweets and silence.
The chess world can only move forward if it learns from these tragedies. FIDE’s next steps will determine whether it remains an organization that hides behind procedures, or becomes one that truly stands for integrity — not just in the moves on the board, but in the way it treats the people who play the game.
Because as both David Navara’s and Daniel Naroditsky’s stories show, words can wound as deeply as any loss — and silence can kill just as easily.
I’m the senior editor of Attacking Chess, a keen chess player, rated above 2300 in chess.com. You can challenge me or asking questions at Chess.com.
