Cold War chessboard diplomacy

I was alarmed to discover in the foreword to the third and latest volume in the Korchnoi tetralogy Korchnoi Year by Year, 1981-1991 by Hans Renette and Tibor Karolyi (Elk and Ruby, £35.95)   the following verdict by Korchnoi’s lawyer Alban Brodbeck on the  “Leningrad Lip” and his constant post-defection companion, former self-confessed terrorist, Petra Leuuwerik: “A crackhead and a witch. A friendly and decent relationship with either of them is simply not possible with these two egoists. Korchnoi has never had a friend throughout his entire life, because he is incapable of friendship and collegiality and the self-promoter and manic egoist Petra belongs to the same category.”

Alban Brodbeck’s verdict on Korchnoi may seem overly harsh, when one realises that Korchnoi suffered from clinical paranoia. But this is hardly surprising, given that, during the siege of Leningrad in 1941-44, an entire Nazi Army Group was in fact, really trying to kill him and his civilian compatriots, more than a million of whom died.

I know something about the period of his life from 1977-1984. Indeed, I consider that I played a vital role in lifting the Soviet boycott against Korchnoi, formerly one of that nation’s most prominent sportsmen. 

I am reminded of that dramatic period, one covered in this book, by rediscovering a Times leading article of 41 years ago. Entitled “Chessboard Diplomacy”, it brought back to me the Cold War battles of the day, which inevitably coloured the international conduct of chess, the archetypal Soviet game.

Two problems bedevilled the chess universe in the early to mid-1980s: one was the Soviet boycott against the defector and world number two, Viktor Korchnoi. The other was the seeming reluctance of the USSR Chess Federation to permit the rising genius, Garry Kasparov, to qualify for a title challenge against the reigning champion, Anatoly Karpov.

The anti-Korchnoi boycott meant that any potential organiser or sponsor of a top tournament could either opt to invite Korchnoi, or Soviet Grandmasters, but not both. There was no middle way, and it was certainly impossible to have Karpov and Korchnoi competing together in your event. The two great K’s followed their own separate paths, like two hostile circling planets, whose orbits can never meet. The sole exception would be any competition authorised by the World Chess Federation, FIDÉ itself, such as Olympiads or the World Championship cycle. At these events, in theory at least, no one could be excluded or discriminated against, on the basis of race, nationality, political opinion, gender or creed. However, the then FIDÉ President, Florencio Campomanes, succeeded on occasion in first stifling and then subverting those stipulations.

The Soviet reluctance to support the budding genius Kasparov was accidentally revealed by a chance remark of one KGB functionary, overheard to say: “We have one world champion, so why should we need another one?” In Kasparov’s case, one from the perimeters of the Soviet imperium, half-Jewish and not known for his enthusiastic devotion to the doctrines of Marx and Lenin.

The global chess fraternity had already suffered a severe blow by the complete withdrawal from chess of the charismatic, brilliant yet mercurial champion, Bobby Fischer. Fischer crushed Boris Spassky in the “match of the century” at Reykjavik in 1972, but then shattered the dreams of his millions of admirers by refusing to play a single game as Champion, and finally forfeiting the Championship, without play, to Karpov in 1975.

Fischer had driven chess popularity to heights, not to be seen again until the screening of the Netflix series  The Queen’s Gambit , but a corresponding downturn followed his decision to give the title away to Karpov, his Russian rival. My opinion at the time was that chess could hardly survive as a thrilling international spectacle, if we were to lose two chess geniuses in the space of a mere eight years: one (Fischer) by eccentric personal whim, the other (Kasparov) through the Machiavellian machinations of obstructive and hostile bureaucracy.

In 1983, acting in my capacity as the official representative to FIDÉ of the British Chess Federation (BCF – now the ECF), I resolved to cut the Gordian knot, terminate the anti-Korchnoi boycott and sever the bureaucratic blockade on the hitherto meteoric trajectory of the young Garry Kasparov. The ultimate goal would be to stage a World Chess Championship in the UK, something not seen since the days when Wilhelm Steinitz defeated Adolph Anderssen in London in 1866. First, though, the boycott had to be lifted and the qualifying cycle to challenge Karpov had to be completed.

The key to the strategy was the World Championship qualifying match between Korchnoi and Kasparov, to be held during 1983. Scheduled for Pasadena, USA, the match ended in a forfeit victory for Korchnoi, when the USSR Chess Federation simply pulled the plug on Kasparov’s participation. Instead of stopping Kasparov’s rise in its tracks, I saw this as a golden opportunity. At the annual FIDE Congress in Manila, which followed close on the default, I announced (after some careful behind the scenes preparation) to the forum of global delegates that the UK would re-stage the aborted qualifier between Korchnoi and Kasparov, on the condition that the USSR dropped its boycott of Korchnoi. The sweet rationality of this proposition achieved such overwhelming support from the assembled great and good of the planetary chess fraternity, that no one could disagree — not even the sons of Lenin, from the otherwise recalcitrant Soviet Chess Federation.

So many times during the fight to secure this stellar match for the UK, I came across the objection, “it’s impossible“, “can’t be done in the time“, and so on. To be fair, this was not a wholly unreasonable or untenable point of view.  

To give an indication of the urgency of our truncated timetable: on 16 October, 1983, just after my return to London from the Manila FIDE Congress, I had no particular sponsor in mind at all. Yet on 21 November, Korchnoi and Kasparov sat down to play their first game in London. One potential stumbling block was the venue. When Stewart Reuben, the BCF’s Congress Director, rang the London Convention Advisory Bureau for help in locating a playing hall in November, he was greeted with a jovial comment: “Of course you do mean November 1984.”

The problem was solved in an original way. Dominic Lawson inserted a piece on the forthcoming match in the “Men and Matters” column of the  Financial Times , ending on a thinly veiled plea for someone to volunteer a venue. This succeeded brilliantly: the Great Eastern Hotel spotted a marvellous opportunity for their vacant Banqueting Hall. Thus we were introduced to the Great Eastern Hotel and its General Manager, Arnot Wilson, who were to be our hosts for the duration of the contest. Dominic was also instrumental in identifying a much-needed sponsor, in the shape of Acorn Computers, who reacted with admirable alacrity to the urgent exigencies of our all too brief calendar.

Few chess events in the UK can have received the advance fanfare achieved by this FIDÉ semi-final: furious Soviet diplomatic activity, a  Times leader and finally the opening reception at 11 Downing Street (for the benefit of foreign readers, the official residence of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, the British finance minister). To cap it all, the BBC succeeded in putting on three TV programmes devoted to the match, at very short notice indeed.

From the  Times  leader I now summarise various conclusions:

“ It is rare for negotiations between the West and Russia to end in agreement, with a crisis resolved, everyone behaving reasonably and sweetness and light spread around. But this has happened in the chess world. What is more, Britons can take pride in the leading role their representatives played.

A way out of the impasse became visible because of an initiative by the players themselves. Korchnoi and Kasparov happened to meet in Yugoslavia in August and they addressed a joint letter to the International Chess Federation saying they wanted to play their match rather than have a result by default. There was also intense diplomatic activity with England’s representative, Raymond Keene, travelling to Moscow and drafting compromise proposals. ”

I remember, in particular, my subsequent negotiations in Manila with the Soviet cosmonaut and President of the USSR Chess Federation, Vitaly Sebastianov, all taking place in the extensive bar of the Philippine Plaza Hotel, over cocktails served in the Ammonite shaped shells of the pearly Nautilus.

The leading article continued: “ Things came to a head at the annual meeting of the International Federation in Manila on October 1. There peace broke out on all sides. The Russians ceased their criticism of Mr Campomanes, Korchnoi softened his demand that the Russians apologise and cease to boycott tournaments in which he played, and Britain (thanks to about £80,000 from Acorn Computers) was able to offer a site and a reasonable prize fund.

Chess players are often tempted to think that some deep significance attaches to their efforts across the board. There is intense intellectual effort, a subtle and artistic marshalling of forces, the overthrow of kings, intrigue of queens. It is all confined to a game, even if the greatest. But there is a wider significance in the way the chess leaders have resolved their differences in the negotiating chamber. Political leaders, in the world where blood flows when a pawn is taken, could learn a lesson. ”

And the lesson I took to heart from this entire roller coaster experience? At Trinity College Cambridge I made a particular study of the German polymath and genius, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Above all I fell in love with his epic masterwork  Faust . In 1835 the Irish poet, John Anster, translated one passage, somewhat freely, in the following exhortatory terms:

“ Lose this day loitering—’twill be the same story
To-morrow–and the next more dilatory;
Then indecision brings its own delays,
And days are lost lamenting o’er lost days.
Are you in earnest? seize this very minute–
What you can do, or dream you can, begin it,
Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it,
Only engage, and then the mind grows heated—
Begin it, and the work will be completed! ”

This week’s game is from the 1983 match between Garry Kasparov and Viktor Korchnoi. Although losing the first game, Kasparov eventually won convincingly against Korchnoi, going on, as we have seen from a recent column, to ultimately take the World Title in 1985.

Is it possible that  my pawn sacrifice against Kierzek  inspired the Great Korchnoi to achieve his first, last and only victory against Garry Kasparov? Is it too fanciful to think that Korchnoi’s pawn sacrifice on move 14 might have been influenced by the game Kierzek v Keene, Dortmund 1978, a game which Korchnoi actually watched while I was collaborating with him on preparation for his world championship challenge against Karpov, later that year?   In fact, my opponent in that game (unlike Kasparov) declined to accept my pawn offer. 

Garry Kasparov vs. Viktor Korchnoi

Candidates Semi-final, London, 1983, rd. 1

1.d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nf3 b6 4. Nc3 Bb7 5. a3 d5 6. cxd5 Nxd5 7. e3 g6 8. Bb5+ 

Timman-Short , London, 1982 had continued  8. Nxd5 Qxd5 9. Qc2 Qd8 10. e4 Bg7 11. Bg5 Qd7 12. Bc4 , with more pleasant prospects for White.

8… c6 9. Bd3 Bg7 10. e4 

Kasparov starts to establish the big pawn centre, which had brought him many notable victories. Less anbitious, but more enduring, is  10. O-O , e.g.  10… O-O 11. Nxd5  (this motif again) 11… cxd5 12. Bd2 Nc6 13. Rc1  with a slight edge to White.

10… Nxc3 11. bxc3 c5 

Now White should probably try  12. Bb5+ Bc6 13. Bxc6+ Nxc6 14. Be3 , or  12. O-O Nc6 13. Be3 O-O 14. e5  as given by Ftacnik in his notes to the game  Ftacnik-Adorjan , Banja Luka, 1983.

 12. Bg5 Qd6 13. e5 Qd7 14. dxc5?! 

The capture which Kierzek (correctly) avoided in our game. After this move, Kasparov had taken over 1 hour and 20 minutes, while Korchnoi had consumed a mere two minutes! This comparison is a sure indicator that White was not satisfied with his position.  14. O-O  looks sensible. But Panco recommends that the path to full equality is via, 14. h4 or 14. Rc1 .

14… O-O 

Black can safely sacrifice one pawn since White’s remaining pawns are so scattered.

15.cxb6 axb6 16. O-O Qc7 17. Bb5 Bxe5 18. Bh6 

Not  18. Nxe5? Qxe5  forking b5 and g5.

18… Bg7 

Safety first. Great speculation in the Press Room here as to the soundness of  18… Rd8 19. Nxe5!? Rxd1 20. Raxd1,  with unclear compensation for the queen sacrificed. There is no necessity for Black to run such risks.

19.Bxg7 Kxg7 20. Qd4+ Kg8 

A widespread examination of this position resulted in some speculation that, instead of the text move 21. Ng5, which follows, the offer of a piece sac with 21. Ne5 is best. Our trusty Silicon friend Pancho examined the position for a considerable time, producing the following: 21. Ne5 Rd8 22. Qh4 Nc6 23. Ng4 h5 24. Nf6+ Kg7 25. Rfe1 Ne7  26. Qg5 Ng8 27. Nxh5+ Kf8 28. Nf4 Qxc3 29. h4 Qf6 30. Qxf6 Nxf6 , with absolute equality in all lines.
21.Ng5? h6 22. Ne4 Bxe4 

He must eliminate this piece before it develops aggressive potential.

23.Qxe4 Na6 24. Qe3?

Probably in a higher sense, the decisive error. Kasparov invested 16 minutes in this oversight and now only had six minutes left to reach time control at move 40, while Korchnoi stll held a further 80 minutes in reserve. White’s only chance is to seek salvation in a major piece ending after  24. Bxa6! Rxa6 25. Qb4 . In that case, the worst that could befall White is a loss of his b-pawn. The likely outcome would be reduction to a rook and pawn ending of four pawns to three, all on the kingside. Advantage to Black, but a theoretical draw. The move chosen with a threat to h6, overlooked that Black can force a vastly favourable exchange of queens.

24… Qc5! 25. Qxc5 Nxc5 

White has split pawns and no real counterplay. The kind of position Korchnoi can handle to perfection.

 26. Rfb1 Rfd8 27. Bf1 Rd6 28. Rb4 Kf8 29. a4 Ra5 30. g3 Ke7 31. Kg2 f5 32. Bb5 Rd2 33. Rd4

Black was threatening …e5-e4 and …Nc4, White has little choice.  

33… Rxd4 34. cxd4 Nxa4!

A neat tactical trick which ensures a decisive advantage.

35.Rxa4 

Or  35. Bxa4 b5!

35… Rxb5

With a passed extra pawn, the rest needs no comment.

36. Ra7+ Kd6 37. Rh7 h5 38. Rg7 Rd5 39. Rxg6 b5 40. Kf3 b4 41. Ke3 b3 42. Kd2 Rxd4+ 43. Kc3 b2 44. Kxb2 Rd2+ 45. Kc3 Rxf2 46. h4 f4 47. Rg5 Rf3+ 48. Kd4 Rxg3 49. Rxh5 Re3 50. Rh6 Ke7 51. h5 e5+ 52. Kd5 f3White resigns 0-1

Ray’s 206th book, “  Chess in the Year of the King  ”, written in collaboration with Adam Black, and his 207th, “  Napoleon and Goethe: The Touchstone of Genius  ” (which discusses their relationship with chess) are available from Amazon and Blackwells. 

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