But the new victor was different. Though he was also highly skilled in technique and style and possessed an exceptional memory, his games brought nothing new. His plans were simple, transparent and easy to carry out. Success was achieved through flawless implementation. You could feel the winning spirit, the locomotive moving at you in every game. Often Bobby would accept a theoretically equal position and proceed with the methodical squeeze, waiting for his opponent to collapse under pressure. Like a tough businessman, he played every game as if it was his only game to win. Such relentless pursuit gave him a powerful psychological advantage. His opponents were always out of a phase; when they thought the battle was over, he was only starting.

Such attitude had nothing to do with chess as art but it proved itself deadly against the Russians, same way as English Yeomanry archers prevailed over the French Knights in the 100-years' War.

Indeed, the Russian chess network was built as the Order of the Templars. The first person in charge was N. Krylenko, a notorious prosecutor-inquisitor of the first atrocities of the regime. In the dark times of artificial happiness chess was cheap, controllable and extremely time-consuming way to entertain the masses. Russian poet V. Kornilov said, "Chess and movies were the blindfolds." Chess fever developed a false sense of intellectual superiority and promoted gratitude towards the Big Brother, who gave common people an access to the ancient game of intellect. The surreal description of the International Chess Tournament in the provincial town of Vasyuki was not just pure fantasy. In the midst of purges and repressions Soviet Government sponsored three Moscow International Tournaments. The most pompous was the one in 1935, marking a recess between the artificial famine in the Ukraine in 1931-1933 and the bloody rampage of 1936-1938. As it was with Hitler's Olympics in 1936, the Kremlin wizards used chess to prove their legitimacy in the face of the intellectual world.

Ideological fluffy cats devised a spiritual foundation. They cultivated an idea of the game being more than it was, a magical art, similar to the theater or ballet. They even invented the chess muse, named Caissa. Controversy between the Hindu game and the Greek idea of the muse did not stop them. Chess players in the country were the entertainment toilers, children of the state. They were organized hierarchically, each level competing for the perks. Fierce competition was only at the bottom of the ladder, though. Whoever could get at least to the middle would become an artist with a bogus profession to justify the government allowance. They introduced the USSR Grandmasters titles, similar to the People's Actors, Painters, etc. The few on top were officially granted the aura of geniuses, magicians, Masters of the Unknown. It was a medieval circus.

The feedback message was that no matter how persistent you could be there was a place on the Olympus only for the few. All the others were humble servants. Making an independent living of your skill as a professional was considered a capitalistic anachronism. Your mind and abilities belonged to the collective as in the Borg Society, and the reason you were only Two of Nine, not Nine of Nine, was because your talent was not big enough. Only the great Masters could go abroad, get the best information, control their time and be reasonably free in their everyday decisions. They were busy creating eternal beauty for the masses and all humankind. Of course, the spirits of the great ancestors were resurrected to support the cause. Whether it was Chigorine who died in poverty or Alekhine who emigrated and became a French citizen, they were portrayed as Knights who fought through all their life for the best approach to the game, the Russian approach, against the mercantile and cheap individualistic tendencies. Books were published, movies directed, plays staged. The amount of resources poured into this smokescreen was amazing. Several cities could be built or the Russian agriculture could be partly restored.

The Order lasted for a long time with the success culmination after the World War II. But the seeds of self-destruction were planted from the start. The magicians became lazy. They got more interested in maintaining their status than in winning new battles. Intrigue filled the cracks. Talent was irrelevant. Mediocrity soared under the protection of bureaucracy. The 1972 Moscow tournament of the young talents shined a bright light on those issues. It was planned as a demonstration of the new generation and organized as a competition between six teams of young players each headed by a Grandmaster. Very quickly it collapsed into petty bickering and open corruption on the upper level. Government officials dictated which team had to win or lose. Gods were up for the highest bidder. I remember an angry remark by our team coach, "I have all the confidence in my kids but Bronstein is our peril." Bronstein was a Grandmaster assigned to our team and, lo and behold, the guy miserably lost so many games that our chances were doomed from the start. It became obvious that the power of the Order had redirected itself inwards and that the machine could not do anything but abuse.

There was also the third side of the coin. International activity, membership in the FIDE, was an ideal cover for big and small spies and other shadowy dealers. Huge Russian delegations included those people all along. So much did the regime cherish that channel that when Korchnoi defected they poured on him a bucket of slander. They needed to discredit his integrity at any cost, make him an outcast, so that he could not participate actively in the destruction of their tentacles.

As it always happens, the crumbling empire was mortally wounded by someone less sophisticated, but much more goal-oriented. Bobby Fisher's only wish was to make a living through chess. It was by no means a new phenomenon. There were always chess professionals in the West. Capablanca was only nominally a diplomat. Steinitz edited several chess magazines. Alekhine held a law degree. In the real life they played chess for about 90% of their productive time. So did the other active players. But so powerful was the Russian influence that the professionals of the modern times were reluctant to admit the truth. Shyness prevented them from confronting the fact that the Soviet players were the only people openly and shamelessly presenting themselves as amateurs, while being in fact on the government retainer.

With Fisher this hypocrisy was over. A typical American, he set his goals and priorities and took a calculated risk. If he could he might have taken a small business loan. He mastered all the necessary skills, kept his powder dry and his mind fresh. Through the interaction with the system he uncovered its main flaw: a clearly defined road to the top. The contender did not have to play in many tournaments or win an international reputation. The critical path through zonal, interzonal tournaments and series of matches lead to the inevitable match with the Champion. That determinism was developed to make it most favorable for the Russians, but it also made no way to avoid the confrontation. Freedom of the old Champions when they decided with whom to play was lost. This discovery made Fisher's goal achievable. His primary contribution to the chess world and to the cause of freedom was that he saw an opportunity in what others perceived as an insurmountable obstacle. He was the right man at the right time and accomplished the task he was destined for.

Both great Americans, Morphy and Fisher served their purpose. But while Morphy was a founder, a genius of principles and deep thinking, Fisher was a promoter, a brilliant master of application and accessibility. Morphy lighted the torch, enriched the game and made it flourish. When the game developed to the level of an intellectual sport, it began to stagnate under the magical covers. Fisher tore them off. Young and vigorous players got the message: you do not have to be a genius to succeed. You just have to be persistent, healthy, knowledgeable and ruthless. Current flourishing chess life owes a lot to Bobby without even realizing how he boosted the confidence and self- esteem of the countless loners throughout the world.

History holds to the pattern of the unlucky pathfinders. Despite all his glory Paul Morphy never established himself in the Southern Society. He was perceived as a gambler and ostracized as a Yankee sympathizer during the Civil War. Eventually he succumbed to the mental illness, which contributed to his untimely death at the age of 47. Fisher fell a victim to his own impatience. He thought, he could do anything he wanted as soon as he won at the board. Being neither a scholar nor an intellectual leader he did not realize that his main task needed more growth. Chess Champion of the World is too much a public figure to confine his actions to only making money. If Bobby had tried to rise for to the occasion, he might have become a Man of the Century. But his ballooning self-esteem did not show him the right way in an everyday life. When his first requests for money were rejected and he realized that the system, though mortally wounded, was not dead yet, Bobby lost his cool. He became bitter and irrational. Eventually he developed conspiracy theories and disappeared into the recluse, shadowed by tax evasion, inflammatory rhetoric and withdrawal from active playing. Funny as it happens, many current professional chess players enjoy prizes and lump-sum payments greatly exceeding Bobby's appetites.

Wilhelm Steinitz, the first World Champion once said, "Chess is not for the spiritually weak. It consumes the whole soul." He was a great soul, old Wilhelm and he died alone in an asylum. Like him, Bobby Fisher, the American Genius died alone, far from his beloved USA the character of which he propagated sometimes without knowing or even wanting that.  RIP, Bobby, the Unbeatable, the Undefeated, the Untaxable and Unforgiven. The true American in love and war.

References:

1. I. Ilf, E. Petrov, The 12 Chairs, (in Russian), Moscow, 1969

2. V. Panov, Capablanca (in Russian), Moscow,1968.

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