Magnus massacred

There is something peculiarly tragic about a man who conquers everything except the temptation to cease conquering. Alert readers will already know that Magnus Carlsen has now enrolled himself amongst that melancholy fraternity of giants—Morphy, Alekhine and Fischer—who departed from the high throne before the final summons had been answered. While still wearing the coveted halo and laurels of World Chess Champion, Magnus Carlsen publicly announced that he would not defend his title in 2023. FIDÉ, the world governing body, accepted that this was no passing whim but an irrevocable judgment, for Carlsen had for years displayed little inclination to return to the arena that ought to remain the supreme theatre of chess.

In response to Carlsen’s sorrowful resolve, the Russian FIDÉ President, Arkady Dvorkovich, issued the following wistful statement:

“Magnus Carlsen deserves nothing but respect from FIDÉ, and from the whole chess community, in whatever decision he makes regarding his career. Only a handful of people in history can understand and assess the tremendous toll that it takes playing five matches for the title.

Many other great champions, in other sports, have experienced something similar: with the passing of the years, it is more difficult to find the motivation to train and compete at the highest level, while the reward for the victory never feels as intense as the first day.

We had hoped that after some deserved rest, Magnus would look at this differently. Sports legends like him always strive for goals and records. He is still young and could possibly have added more classical titles to his already outstanding career, as he will surely try in the Rapid and Blitz modalities, which he favours.

Since he first expressed his doubts publicly, FIDÉ has been open to dialogue and to consider specific proposals to change the format of the World Championship. Some of these ideas were discussed with Carlsen and other top players, and we had a meeting where all the concerns were discussed openly and in detail. Alas, it did not change his mind.

His decision not to defend his title is undoubtedly a disappointment for the fans, and bad news for the spectacle. It leaves a big void. But chess is now stronger than ever —in part, thanks to Magnus— and the World Championship Match, one of the longest and most respected traditions in the world of sports, will go on.”

There is something almost Roman in the firmness with which Carlsen closed the door upon further discussion. The answer was neither hesitant nor conditional, but a plain and unmistakable refusal.

“It is correct that I met with the FIDÉ management in connection with the end of the Candidates tournament,” Carlsen said. “ I had no demands, nor did I have any suggestions – I was there to tell them that I would not be defending the title in the next world championship.”

It is difficult to exaggerate the magnitude of such a declaration from a player who had already won five World Championship matches and held the title continuously since 2013. Monarchs have surrendered kingdoms for reasons less extraordinary than this surrender of the greatest prize in chess.

“ We did have a small discussion. They came with a few suggestions – some of them I liked, some of them I didn’t,” he added. “However, my decision stands. This is a conclusion I am comfortable with, and a decision that I have thought a lot about for a long time, for more than a year and a half. I’ve spoken with people from the team, I’ve spoken with FIDÉ, and I have told them that I am not motivated to play yet another world championship game.”

Yet here the curious paradox begins. Retirement has always possessed a certain austere dignity. Abdication accompanied by continued supremacy possesses something altogether more perplexing. If a king abandons his throne but continues to defeat every rival who approaches it, he does not merely retire from the kingdom; he throws into question the very institution from which he has withdrawn.

The respected senior British grandmaster Jonathan Levitt expressed the dilemma with admirable economy:

“Retiring is one thing. Continuing to play but not fitting in with the World Championship system, supposedly the highest level of chess, is disrespectful to the tradition of chess. Magnus totally has the right to be disrespectful, but it will not go down well with the chess world.”

Indeed, had Magnus deliberately set himself the task of diminishing the standing of the hallowed World Chess Championship, he could scarcely have discovered a more effective method. With Carlsen absent from the championship cycle yet still fully active elsewhere, any contest between di minores, as Alekhine so memorably dismissed his lesser rivals, inevitably appears diminished before it begins. Shakespeare perceived this truth long before organised chess. Cassius laments in Julius Caesar:

“ Why, man he doth bestride the narrow world,/Like a Colossus, and we petty men/Walk under his huge legs, and peep about,/To find ourselves dishonourable graves.”

Meanwhile, Carlsen continued to gather fresh laurels in classical tournaments, rapid, blitz and even the heretical novelty of freestyle chess. Every new triumph became an ironic commentary upon the diminished authority of the official title. The victories themselves seemed almost to mock the Lilliputian stature of those who occupied the recognised throne while the uncrowned sovereign wandered freely through the rest of the chess world.

That was, until the recently concluded Norway tournament , which proved an unmitigated disaster for Carlsen. At the time I believed that a surfeit of less formal rapid competition had dulled Carlsen’s mental acuity and the finely tempered edge demanded by traditional classical chess. I also believed that the anathematised abomination of Shuffle or varied baseline chess had played its own unhappy part in weakening his concentration upon the old and proven disciplines. Yet even this diagnosis proved too charitable. Worse was to come.

In the World Rapid Team Championship, which followed shortly after the Norway débâcle, Carlsen lost no fewer than four games. More striking still was the disappearance of that invisible weapon upon which every great champion partly depends: fear. The younger generation no longer approached him as men approaching a mountain. One of them not only defeated Carlsen with the black pieces, but annihilated him by means of a spectacular queen sacrifice whose brilliance made the defeat seem almost emblematic.

I have referred to the present World Champion and his predecessor, both of whom profited from Carlsen’s ritual Seppuku in abdicating the championship, as dwarves of the chessboard when compared with Kasparov, Karpov, Fischer, Alekhine and Capablanca. Yet history possesses an odd habit of turning its own metaphors against those who coined them. Now it almost seems that Carlsen himself may borrow the lament of Hermia from  A Midsummer Night’s Dream: “Because I am so dwarfish and so low, how low am I?”

Too low, surely, for one who only yesterday appeared the unquestioned master of the royal game.

I can only hope that Carlsen regains his senses. It is time once more for him to seek the World Chess Championship itself, laying aside the distractions of the informal rapid disciplines, where the rapidity of the hand too often bids against the profundity of the little grey cells in choosing moves. It is time also to sever definitively every lingering attachment to the toxically brain-rotting experiment of Shuffle chess. A civilisation survives only so long as it remembers the difference between novelty and improvement. Steinitz, Lasker, Botvinnik and the titans of former generations must meanwhile be revolving in their graves as they contemplate Carlsen’s recent catalogue of Ozymandian cataclysms, for there is no spectacle more melancholy than that of a giant voluntarily descending from his own pedestal before lesser men have possessed the strength to dislodge him.

Magnus Carlsen vs. Arjun Erigaisi

FIDE World Rapid Team, Hong Kong, 2026, round 6

1. Nf3 d5 2. d4 Nf6 3. c4 e6 4. Nc3 Be7 5. Bf4 O-O 6. e3 c5 7. dxc5 Nc6 8. Be2 dxc4 9. Bxc4 Bxc5 10. O-O Nh5 11. Qe2?! TN

A new move, deviating ineffectively from 11. Bg5 [Liren-Gukesh, Wch. Singapore, 2024]. A better continuation is with 11. Ne4 Nxf4 12. Nxc5 Qe7 13. exf4 Qxc5, and now 14. Qe2.

11… Nxf4 12. exf4 b6 13. Rad1 Qe7 14. Ne4 Bb7 15. Nxc5 Qxc5 16. Ng5 Nd4 17. Qd3 Nf5 18. Rfe1 Qc6 19. f3

Weakening; better to concede the tempo and bring the knight home: 19. Nf3 Qc7 20. Ne5 Rad8 21. Qb3 Rd6 22. Rc1 Nd4 23. Qe3 Qe7 24. Bf1.

19… b5 20. Bxe6?!

Bad, but better than 20. Bxb5 Qb6+ 21. Kh1 Rad8 22. Qb3 h6 23. Nxe6 Rxd1 24. Rxd1 Qxe6 25. Qxe6 fxe6 26. Bc4 Re8 when white has boosted black’s advantage, but much the best option was 20. Bb3 Qb6+ 21. Kh1 Rad8 22. Qc2 Rxd1 23. Qxd1, with near equality.

20… fxe6 21. Nxe6 Qb6+ 22. Kh1 Rf6 23. Ng5 h6?!

Black relaxes his grip. Best by far was 23… Qc6 24. Re7 Rb8 25. Rde1 Qd5 26. Qxd5+ Bxd5 27. Rd7 Bc6 28. Rxa7 h6 29. Ne4 Re6, when black keeps his advantage locked in.

24. Qb3+ Kh8 25. Nf7+ Kh7 26. Ne5

26… Rd8?

This move hands white full equality, throwing away a considerable advantage. After 26… Bc6 27. Qd3 Kh8 28. Ng4 Rff8 29. Ne5 Be8 30. g3 Rc8 31. Kg2 Qf6, black remains strong.

27. Nd7 Rxd7

But not 27… Qc6 or …Qa6 when 28. Nxf6+ Qxf6 29. Rxd8 Qxd8 30. Qxb5 when white has a clear advantage.

28. Rxd7 Qf2 29. Qd1?

This is a serious miscalculation. White must secure the g2-square: 29. Rg1 Bc6 30. Rc7 Qe2 31. Qd1 Qe3 32. Qc2 Qb6 33. Re7 means white is close to parity.

29… Rg6 30. Re2??

In conjunction with his last mistake, this error is game-ending. After 30. Rg1 or even 30. Rd2 (which do not block white’s defence of the f3-pawn) white faces major problems, but is still in play.

30… Qxf3 White resigns 0-1

White cannot play 31. gxf3 because after 31… Bxf3+ 32. Rg2 Bxg2+ 33. Kg1 Bf3+ 34. Kf2 Bxd1 35. Rxd1 Rg2+!, and if 36. Kxg2, then Ne3+ is the final blow.

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) can be ordered from both Amazon and Blackwell’s. His 208th, the world record for chess books, written jointly with the late chess playing artist, Barry Martin,  Chess through the Looking Glass ,  is now also available from Amazon. 

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