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The Keres-Botvinnik Case Revisited:
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A Further Survey of the Evidence
Taylor Kingston
Was Paul Keres was coerced by Soviet authorities to throw games to Mikhail
Botvinnik in the 1948 world championship? The question has intrigued and baffled
chess historians for over 50 years. Especially since 1995, interest has intensified,
with everything from sound research to baseless opinion being offered. This writer
attempted his own contribution in 1998 with “The Keres-Botvinnik Case: A Survey
of the Evidence”, published both on this web-site and in Chess Life (5/98). Since
then new evidence has surfaced, justifying a further look, and perhaps something
that eluded me in 1998: a conclusion.
Background
No extensive rehash here; readers are invited to consult my 1998 article in the
Chess Café archives. Briefly, the 1948 Hague-Moscow tournament was organized
by FIDE to decide the world title, vacant since Alekhine’s 1946 death. Botvinnik,
scoring 14-6 (+10 =8 –2), won convincingly over Smyslov (11-9), Keres and
Reshevsky (each 10½-9½), and Euwe (4-16). Important was Botvinnik’s +4 –1
score against Keres, his best against any opponent, the loss coming only after 1st
place was clinched. Because Keres was a non-Russian and by Communist
standards politically tainted, it soon was suspected that the oppressive Stalin
regime had pressured him to lose to Botvinnik, who was acceptable as an icon of
Socialist Culture.
State of the Evidence
Suspicions have persisted ever since, despite a scarcity of direct evidence. Keres
said next to nothing on the subject publicly, Botvinnik slightly more but only to
deny any wrongdoing. No Soviet official made any significant announcement,
either pre- or post-glasnost. Friends of the principals, e.g. Bronstein, said nothing
definite. After the USSR broke up, various documents surfaced, but no clear
“smoking gun.” Ideally coercion theorists would like the dusty KGB archives to
divulge something like “The reactionary traitor and fascist collaborator Paul Keres
is hereby instructed to expedite the Historically Inevitable Triumph of Communism
by rendering all possible assistance to People’s Hero Mikhail Botvinnik,
particularly when they play each other. In recognition of Keres’ service to the
cause of Socialist Revolution, the People’s Committee for State Security will
refrain from shooting him. (signed) J. Stalin, General Secretary.” In the absence of
such documentation, arguments for a fix have rested mainly on inference, politics
and probability.
Inferring from the Games
Inference has focused mainly on the games. Some say Keres made such bad moves
at key points that to a trained eye they are strong indications, even dead giveaways,
that he was playing to lose, a prime example being GM Larry Evans’ “The Tragedy
of Paul Keres” (Chess Life, October 1996), about which more later. Evans has gone
so far as to imply that his analyses are comparable to the Zapruder film of the John
Kennedy assassination. Others say Keres’ mistakes look no worse, and in some
cases far less bad, than countless other errors, made by even great players, under
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circumstances where coercion was obviously no factor. Errare humanum est, and
all that.
I consider analysis potentially relevant, but by itself neither necessary nor
sufficient to establish coercion. I have consulted several very strong players,
without finding consensus. Those who see the games as evidence of coercion
include GMs Hans Ree and Jan Timman, as well as Evans. On the other hand, IM
John Watson and GM John Nunn are on record to the opposite effect. A full
discussion of the five Keres-Botvinnik games, and the various interpretations of
them, could fill a small book, which perhaps I will write someday, but not here and
now — there simply isn’t space. Therefore this aspect of the case will, reluctantly,
be bypassed for now — not because it has no bearing, but because it cannot be
properly dealt with in a few paragraphs.
I will note in passing that Evans’ Zapruder analogy is specious. The Zapruder film
at least clearly shows a crime. We know a man is shot, but not by whom or why. In
contrast, Keres’ games show no crime, only chess moves, but if he was coerced,
the political situation tells us by whom and why.
Politics and Probability
Compared to analysis, this line of argument is perhaps stronger and easier to grasp.
Today relatively few recall the severity of Stalinism or the intensity of Cold War
ideological passions. In World War II, Red Army soldiers, if captured by the
Germans and later freed, would often be shot by their own army on grounds of
ideological contamination. Keres was not a combatant or defector, but he was
under a definite cloud for playing in Nazi-organized tournaments while Estonia
was under German occupation, and later he was suspected of assisting anti-Soviet
Estonian patriots. While his international fame, and the intervention of a friendly
Estonian Communist Party official, helped spare him, it can be argued that the
likelihood of the Stalin regime blithely allowing him in 1948 to become World
Chess Champion, and thereby a major representative of Soviet Culture, was
comparable to that of a Mormon becoming Pope.
It is well established that Soviet authorities had already pressured Keres as early as
1945. By virtue of AVRO 1938, Keres still had the right to challenge Alekhine for
the world title. However, with Estonia back under Soviet control, Keres stood aside
for Botvinnik. Alekhine’s death denied the Soviets this easy path to the world title.
But having once held Keres back, would they hesitate to do so again?
Also since 1948 it has become known that various forms of cheating and coercion
were employed by the Soviets for years: fictitious results to manufacture titles,
collusion in major tournaments as early as 1935 and most famously at Curaçao
1962 (see Soltis’ Soviet Chess 1917-1991, pp. 257-258), bribery (e.g
Taimanov-Matulovic, 1970), machinations within FIDE to goad Fischer toward
abdication, covert threats in the Karpov-Korchnoi matches, to name but a few.
There are indications of game-fixing as far back as 1933. If the Soviets used such
tactics so often, would they have played fair when it mattered most, in 1948?
Despite their plausibility and seductiveness, I rejected probability-based arguments
in my 1998 article, taking a quasi-legal stance. In American courts a murder
conviction requires proof of motive, method, and opportunity. Certainly in 1948
the Soviet regime had motive and opportunity. But proof of method was lacking, in
fact there was no prima facie evidence of any crime. Furthermore Evans in 1996
employed arguments from probability, but made a mess of his factual support.
Reaction in some quarters to my 1998 article indicated that my motives, in this
regard, were misunderstood. My reluctance to accept probability and inference did
not stem from any pro-Soviet or anti-Keres bias. Quite the opposite. Keres, both as
a man and a chessmaster, has long been one of my favorite players, and Botvinnik

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one of my least favorite. I consider the Stalin regime to have been an abomination,
not just on humanitarian, political, economic, military or cultural grounds, but also
for its corruption of chess. I consider arguments that it “advanced the game” like
praising Hitler for the Autobahn. So just because I refuse to jump to conclusions,
let no right-winger call me “soft on communism.”
No, I would not hesitate to say that the Evil Empire took a crooked path to the
world title, but if the Communists’ guilt is to be established, it must be on a solid,
factual basis, not just the “Everybody knows Commies are cheaters” sort of
knee-jerk prejudice.
That takes research. As I stated in 1998, some of the best research in this area has
been done by Estonian Valter Heuer (born 1928), a friend of Keres. His article
“The Troubled Years of Paul Keres” (New In Chess, #4, 1995) is an excellent
examination of Keres’ WW II and postwar situation through 1948. However,
though coercion theorists (e.g. Evans, Schroeder) have cited it as supporting their
ideas, it does not go that far. Heuer does demonstrate that over 1945-48 Keres
suffered many hardships and distractions that surely hurt his chess performance,
but these are not construed as deliberate Soviet policy to help Botvinnik. To the
contrary, Heuer says “the facts known to me confirm that Keres went to fight and
win.”
However, it appears Heuer has not uncovered any major discoveries since 1995.
Let us examine what has turned up elsewhere since then.
Cafferty’s Comments
In the February 2000 British Chess Magazine appeared a one-page article by
Bernard Cafferty, “Keres and the KGB”. Cafferty, a respected historian with
considerable expertise on Russia and Soviet chess, discussed recently unearthed
documents not mentioned by Heuer, but which support Heuer’s account in NIC.
Cafferty wrote “A document of 29th August 1946 states that Botvinnik and
Smyslov had been investigated by the ‘organs of state security’ and there was no
compromising material on them. However, serious compromising material had
been discovered on Keres, by reason of his collaboration with the Germans ... and
his links with active participants of the Estonian ‘bourgeois-nationalist
underground’.” On this basis Keres was denied permission to travel abroad, for
example to the 1946 Groningen tournament, won by Botvinnik. However “A
handwritten PS added to the document and dated 17 September 1946 stated that the
Secretary of the Estonian Communist Party vouches for Keres and considers it
possible for him to be sent abroad.”
This was, I believe, Nikolai Karotamm, who according to Heuer was a “true
Stalinist” but also an advocate for Keres as early as May 1946. He apparently aided
Keres’ reinstatement, for, says Cafferty, “A document dated 19 March 1947 and
signed personally by Stalin authorises the admission of the USSR to FIDE and the
participation of Botvinnik, Keres and Smyslov in a world title event ‘... in the
USSR’.” This obviously was later expanded, allowing Keres to go to Holland in
1948.
Cafferty knows of “no documents giving chapter and verse to any fix,” but he
concludes that “Keres must have known what outcome the Soviet state deemed
desirable. He may well have entered the event reconciled to playing only for
second place.” The phrases “must have” and “may well have” still smack of
speculation, but as we will see there is more behind them.
Keres and Whyld
Briton Ken Whyld, co-author of The Oxford Companion to Chess, is another
highly respected chess historian. His contribution to this discussion is best
expressed in his own words:

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“Keres told me in private, when he was my guest in Nottingham, that he was not
ordered to lose those games to Botvinnik, and was not playing to lose. But he had
been given a broader instruction that if Botvinnik failed to become World
Champion, it must not be the fault of Keres.” (emphasis added)
This was posted on Tim Krabbé’s on-line Chess Diary
(www.xs4all.nl/~timkr/chess2/diary_4.htm), as item #65, 11 June 2000. In a later
e-mail to this writer, dated 14 September 2000, Whyld expanded on it:
“At the end of 1962 Keres made a visit to the British Isles, sponsored by the British
Chess Federation and the British-Soviet Friendship Society, to give a series of
simultaneous displays ... Keres arrived in Nottingham on 27 November, and it was
my pleasant task, as president of the Nottinghamshire Chess Association, to be his
host. That evening he was my guest at dinner, just the two of us, and he expressed
very frank opinions on a number of topics ... Emboldened by his relaxed attitude I
was impudent enough to ask if he had ‘thrown’ those games in the 1948 World
Championship. Not so. He had never found it easy to play Botvinnik. However he
would have been in serious trouble had B. not won the title because of any action
by Keres.” (emphasis added)
This constitutes, I believe, an important corroboration of Cafferty’s thesis, perhaps
even a long-sought “smoking gun.” The Krabbé Diary was its first publication.
That Whyld would keep it secret for nearly 38 years puzzled me. In another e-mail
dated 11 August 2001 he clarified, and hedged somewhat:
“I never regarded it as something to repeat in his lifetime, although he was
probably secure enough in his later years. Later I thought it not worth repeating.
Firstly there is only my word for it, and secondly he might not have been telling the
truth.”
Mr. Whyld is becomingly modest, and a skeptic might focus on the doubt of that
last sentence, but I am inclined to take the story at face value.
The Botvinnik Interview
A few months before Whyld’s revelation, another relevant item appeared on
Krabbé’s site. Item #42, posted 10 December 1999, describes an interview with
Botvinnik, by Dutch journalist Max Pam with émigré GM Genna Sosonko
translating. Pam apparently did not realize the significance of what he had, for he
did not publicize it widely to the chess world. Instead, the interview appeared only
in the Dutch magazine Vrij Nederland (20 August 1991), a general-interest weekly
not devoted to chess. It attracted little attention until Krabbé translated a portion
into English and put it on his site over 8 years later.
In the key passage, Botvinnik was asked if he had ever known of collusion between
Soviet players. His reply:
“I have experienced myself that orders were given. In 1948 I played with Keres,
Smyslov, Reshevsky and Euwe for the world title. After the first half of the
tournament, which took place in the Netherlands, it was clear that I was going to be
world champion.” (Note: strictly speaking, Holland was venue for the first 2/5 of
the tournament, not “the first half.” After two laps, eight rounds, when the
contestants had played each other twice, the score stood Botvinnik 6, Reshevsky
4½, Keres and Smyslov 4, Euwe 1½.)
“During the second half in Moscow something unpleasant happened. At a very
high level, it was proposed that the other Soviet players [i.e. Keres and Smyslov]
would lose to me on purpose, in order to make sure there was going to be a Soviet
World Champion. It was Stalin personally who proposed this.” (emphasis added)
Amazing! For the first time, Botvinnik publicly states the existence of a

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conspiracy, with orders from the very top, none other than Stalin himself.
Obviously, we have here the long-sought smoking gun.
Or do we? The rest of Botvinnik’s statement clouds the picture: “But of course I
refused! It was an intrigue against me, to belittle me. A ridiculous proposal, only
made to put down the future World Champion. In some circles, people preferred
Keres to be World Champion. It was disgraceful, because I had already proven by
and large that I was stronger at that time than Keres and Smyslov.”
Bizarre. The fix proposal was intended to insult him, and perhaps to help Keres?
Nonsensical, as Krabbé notes. Botvinnik had something of a persecution complex,
and it seems to be badly skewing his interpretation of events here. And what of the
claim that he refused? Not his only such; see for example Achieving the Aim, p. 43,
where he rejects Krylenko’s suggestion that Rabinovitch throw him a game in
1935. But the two incidents are not entirely comparable. Rejecting a suggestion by
Krylenko is perhaps conceivable, but refusing orders from Stalin himself? Hard to
believe. In most areas of policy Stalin was no more flexible than Hitler, and at least
as brutal. Was chess so different, or Botvinnik so privileged?
Other details are odd. Botvinnik says the idea of a fix did not come up until the
tournament moved to Moscow, like it was a sudden whim. The statistics are
ambiguous. Botvinnik’s Moscow score (8-4, 67%) was in fact slightly below his
Hague score (6-2, 75%). His combined score against Keres and Smyslov shows the
same trend: Moscow +3 –1 =2, 67%; Hague +2 =2, 75%. Only if we throw out the
last lap, after Botvinnik had already clinched the title, do we see a difference: in
laps 3-4 he scored +3 =1, 88%, against his fellow Soviets. This included his only
win over Smyslov, but Botvinnik’s easiest game against Keres had been their
second, at the Hague.
So do we accept Botvinnik 100%? Do we dismiss it all as the grousings of a
grumpy paranoid octogenarian, or pick and choose what to believe? I prefer to
avoid speculation on each detail. Clearly it is at very least another confirmation of
the basic thesis of official pro-Botvinnik pressure. Coupled with Whyld’s
testimony, it shows, at a minimum, that there was an officially desired outcome,
and both Keres and Botvinnik knew what it was.
There is another argument for at least partial acceptance. Botvinnik’s admission of
a fix order is so different, so at odds with everything he and Soviet officialdom
have said before, that it is very hard to explain unless it were a fact.
Refuting Evans’ Gambits
An inspiration for my foray into this subject was GM Larry Evans’ 1996 article
“The Tragedy of Paul Keres”. Evans considered it “an inescapable conclusion” that
Keres “was forced to take a dive.” At first I found Evans’ case persuasive, and sent
two laudatory letters to him and Chess Life in late 1996. However further research
revealed flaws. Having discussed these in 1998, I would not now bring Evans up,
except that his actions since then demand some response.
One example will illustrate the slipshod and misleading aspects of Evans’
approach. In 1995 James Schroeder, a splenetic, boorish American with no
particular expertise on Soviet chess, wrote a severely flawed, biased, baseless
article on Keres and Botvinnik, which eventually appeared in the British monthly
CHESS (4/1996). It was quoted by Evans as if it were established fact. This is
something like regarding The Mikado as a documentary on Japan. Evans further
misled CL readers by never naming Schroeder as the author, instead presenting it
as an official report by CHESS. In fact Malcolm Pein, executive editor of CHESS,
later repudiated the article and expressed regret they had ever run it (e-mail, 5
September 1997).
Such discoveries prompted me to revise my opinion of Evans’ article, a revision I

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stated publicly here and in Chess Life, and privately in letters to Evans in late 1998.
My tone was always cordial and I was open to discussing our differences, but
Evans gave me no response, nor did he publish any of my critical letters in his
column.
That was his prerogative, but in other things Evans went beyond his rights. On at
least two occasions he has written about me, in connection with the Keres case, in a
misleading, deceptive manner. The first occurred in late 1999, the now well-known
Kingpin letter. Evans quoted my laudatory 1996 letter, giving the impression I still
supported “Tragedy” when he knew full well I no longer did. This drew a sharp
response from me, Kingpin editor Jon Manley, and from Edward Winter in his
article “The Facts About Larry Evans” (see the Skittles Room archives).
And yet, Evans seems not to have learned from this, for in the September 2001
Chess Life he committed an even more blatant act of deceit, saying “But
[Kingston’s] ‘Survey of the Evidence’ (Chess Life, May 1998) devotes six pages to
the topic without reaching any conclusion despite what Keres told Whyld and
Botvinnik’s startling admission in a 1991 interview that Stalin did intervene”
(emphasis added).
Amazing! By saying “despite” Evans alleges that in 1998 I overlooked or
dismissed important evidence. Yet in 1998 this evidence was unknown to me.
Furthermore, it was also unknown to Evans. The Botvinnik interview was not
published in English until 10 December 1999. Whyld never allowed publication of
his 1962 secret until 11 June 2000. I have corroboration of the dates and facts from
Pam, Krabbé, and Whyld themselves. Evans’ “despite” gambit is the low trick of a
dirty politician, not the act of a responsible historian/journalist.
The Tragedy of Larry Evans
It is a minor tragedy that Evans has taken this adversarial attitude. Unlike some of
his critics, I never dismissed his ideas out of hand. Nor did I claim he had reached
wrong conclusions; I questioned some of his evidence and methods. Questions on
which he has never deigned to answer me. Had he been responsive like Whyld,
Cafferty, Krabbé, Watson, Ree, Yasser Seirawan, Milan Vukcevic, Emanuel
Sztein, Leonard Barden, Andy Soltis, Anthony Saidy, and others who aided my
research, we might have had a constructive dialogue.
Ironically, on the Keres case I have arrived at conclusions similar to Evans’.
However about Evans himself I have come to a new opinion, a much lower one.
Evans has every right to disagree with me, but not the right to mislead.
The Travesty of Larry Parr
A bizarre footnote to this is Larry Parr, a former Chess Life editor now living in
Malaysia. When Evans was invited by the Chess Café to give a reply to Winter, he
delegated it to Parr, and said it would be published not in The Skittles Room but in
the on-line newsgroup rec.games.chess.politics (rgcp). This rebuttal appeared in
many installments at irregular intervals, the bulk of them in late August, 2001.
Their totality forms a monumental work, at least in terms of irrelevance,
ostentation and offensiveness. Its bearing on the Keres case would be nil, except
that Parr devoted a small portion to attacks on my 1998 article, and a defense of
Evans’ writings on it. In doing so he only compounded the travesty. A few
excerpts:
“[Mr. Kingston alleges] he had publicly disavowed his letter. We are still waiting
for the honorable Mr. Kingston to provide proof of what page in Chess Life this
retraction appeared ... Doubts denote uncertainty. Not denial. Not repudiation.” —
MR. KINGSTON'S DOUBTS, rgcp 16 June, 2001
Parr is prone to logical fallacy, he is shameless at twisting words, and often blind to
factual evidence. Here he says that support and doubt are equivalent. As for the

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exact pages of my retraction, I refer him to CL, 5/1998, pages 49-53. Furthermore I
will quote from my letter to Evans, dated 9 November 1998:
“I am amazed that you continue to give [Schroeder] any credence ... His support
only damages your own credibility ... Contrary to your assertion, I do not
‘cavalierly dismiss’ your game analyses. However I do day they create no
‘inescapable’ conclusion. One must keep clear the distinction between necessary
and sufficient evidence ... to show that Keres played inferior moves ... is hardly
sufficient to make coercion the best or only explanation for them. In areas other
than analysis, you’re open to question ... You may still be proven right, but you
have a ways to go.”
Even Helen Keller could see that I was no longer supporting Evans. Eventually, it
seems Parr realized this, for he later conceded it was wrong of Evans to write his
misleading letter:
“I know what was in GM Evans mind when he wrote the short note to Kingpin. He
believed that Mr. Kingston would naturally reassess his position in ‘Keres and
Botvinnik: A Survey of the Evidence,’ given the complete worthlessness of
Botvinniks testimony ... these doubts, so GM Evans reasons, were eliminated after
Mr. Kingston learned of Botvinnik’s disqualifying contradiction in the
Sosonko-Pam interview ... [Evans] shattered the rules of honest controversy. He
ought never to have made this assumption ... Larry Evans let himself down when
he sent that note to Kingpin.” — PECCAVI AND EVANS, TOO, rgcp 25 August,
2001
It is gratifying to see Parr at last admit that Evans was wrong. However, it is
obvious that Evans is still not repentant, since he’s back to his old misleading ways
in CL 9/2001. And there is a further, serious problem with Parr’s statement.
The excuse he makes is not just worthless, but impossible. Evans could not have
made the assumption Parr “knows” he made. Issue #31 of Kingpin went to press in
early November 1999. IM John Watson, whom Evans’ letter addressed, saw the
letter as early as 22 September, 1999. Yet the first appearance of the Botvinnik
interview in English, the first both Evans and I knew of it, was on Tim Krabbé’s
web-site on 10 December, 1999. How then could Evans, in September, “know”
what I thought of it?
Several possible conclusions come to mind:
● 1) Parr and Evans have a time-travel machine, and believe that I do, too.
● 2) Parr and Evans have lapsed completely into solipsism.
● 3) Parr and Evans are unscrupulous liars who fabricate when they think it
serves their purpose.
Personally, I lean toward #3, with perhaps a bit of #2. Any claim by either needs to
be examined with extreme skepticism. And if, on a question of chess history, they
sometimes are correct, it would seem like stopped clocks being right twice a day. I
don’t trust anyone who thinks December comes before September.
I hope this digression has not taxed the reader’s patience. If nothing else, it
illustrates how overheated passions on the ideologically-charged subject of Soviet
chess can drive some people to absurd and unethical lengths, underscoring the need
for dispassionate, rational reflection. With that in mind, we return to the main
subject.
Summation and Verdict
A summation of important points:
● 1. Botvinnik was preferred by the Soviet government as a world champion,

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as shown by the pressure put on Keres not to interfere in his challenge to

Alekhine.
● 2. Keres was in political disfavor circa 1945-46, as is amply documented. It
is therefore unlikely that the Soviet government would accept Keres as world
champion in 1948.
● 3. Botvinnik says that there was an official order, or at least proposal, from
Stalin that Keres and Smyslov to lose to him.
● 4. Whyld testifies that Keres knew he would have been in serious trouble
had he somehow caused Botvinnik not to win the title.
From my 1998 quasi-legal standpoint, is this enough for a conviction? Probably
not. However, from an historian’s standpoint, it is probably more reasonable to
adopt a scientific standard. As explained by Stephen Gould, a scientific hypothesis
is considered proven if “confirmed to such a degree that it would be perverse to
withhold provisional assent.” Based on all the above evidence and testimony, not
to grant provisional assent to the hypothesis of coercion on Keres seems willfully
obtuse. Conclusion: the Commies did it.
One wonders exactly how the coercion was carried out, what form it took. Some
writers seem to envision the KGB holding Keres or his family at gunpoint. More
plausible seems a scenario described by Cafferty in an 8/2001 e-mail:
“Such a message may have been imparted to Keres by an Estonian CP boss (i.e. by
an ethnic Estonian) and represented to him as a way of regularising his position
vis-à-vis potential accusations of wartime collaboration with the Nazis by
participating in ‘Fascist’ tournaments.”
Cafferty says “this was not necessarily a fully blown order to throw games.”
Perhaps, but it seems the next closest thing. Semantically nicer than a brutal “lose
or we kill you” ultimatum, but with the same practical effect on Keres at the board.
Coercion After 1948?
The most extreme coercion theorists (e.g. Schroeder) assert that the leash put on
Keres in 1948 stayed the rest of his career, explaining his near-misses in the
Candidates Tournaments of 1953 (2nd-4th behind Smyslov), 1956 (2nd again to
Smyslov), 1959 (2nd to Tal), and 1962 (2nd-3rd behind Petrosian). Attractive and
consistent though this idea is, it lacks basis. Perhaps there were lingering
psychological effects, but for post-1948 official repression, especially after Stalin’s
death in March 1953, evidence is lacking.
Furthermore, Cafferty points out that in mid-1954, Botvinnik suffered something
of a fall from grace, the result of a 4-page letter he wrote to the leaders of the new
post-Stalin regime, which appeared in the Russian journal Istorichesky Arkhiv
(#2/1993, pp. 58-67). The letter dealt with the highly-charged topic of socialist
revolution in western countries. Evidently its ideas were too unorthodox. The
official reply from the Central Committee was sternly critical, going so far as to
suggest that Botvinnik might not belong in the Communist Party! Botvinnik
apparently recanted his heresy, but the damage was done. Cafferty says “So,
Botvinnik was not in such good standing with the CP after 1954, when the
emergence of other challengers meant that support of [Botvinnik] was no longer
such a vital government priority.”
Thus with Keres politically rehabilitated, and Botvinnik no longer in favor, it
seems likely that whatever kept Keres from winning a Candidates Tournament and
finally getting a title match, it was not government coercion. However, unofficial
Soviet chicanery may have spoiled Keres’ last chance, though ironically in this
case he was a voluntary participant.

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At the 1962 Candidates Tournament, in Curaçao, Tal was ill, while Fischer had not
reached mature strength. Thus the favorites were Keres, Petrosian, and Geller.
Petrosian talked the other two into a “gentleman’s agreement,” whereby they
would play short draws with each other (see Soltis, p. 257). This perhaps helped
them to keep Fischer at bay, but it also hampered Keres, who at the time was
probably stronger than Petrosian or Geller (Keres won a post-Curaçao playoff with
Geller +2 –1 =5). Had Keres played to win, chances are he would have won at least
one game against either or both. Other things being equal, that would have been
enough, because Keres missed 1st place by only ½-point. Then it might have been
he rather than Petrosian who finally dethroned Botvinnik for good. A story line
rich in irony and poetic justice, but only a might-have-been. In the next Candidates
cycle, 1965, Keres was eliminated by the younger Spassky and never again was a
serious challenger.
Unanswered Questions
Assuming 1948 coercion on Keres to be established, a major question remains:
Botvinnik’s degree of complicity. The stakes for his posthumous image are high.
As a passive beneficiary his image, at least in terms of ethics, is spared; as an
active instigator he becomes a major hypocrite.
In 1998 I cited Korchnoi associate Emanuel Sztein, who claimed to know that
Botvinnik was actively complicit, and who promised damaging revelations in a
forthcoming memoir by Yuri Averbakh. This memoir has yet to appear. More
recent, and tending to an opposite view, is this comment by Cafferty: “I cannot
decide whether [Botvinnik] was merely a compliant receiver of privilege or an
instigator. Gut feeling, though, says the former.” (e-mail, 20 Feb. 2000).
More substantive, though, is a very recent interview with Smyslov. In the 12/2000
issue of the Russian magazine 64, the only surviving participant of Hague-Moscow
said:
“Many years later Botvinnik, giving an interview in Holland, said that Stalin,
through intermediaries, suggested that in the Moscow part of the 1948
match-tournament the other Soviet participants should ‘ensure’ Botvinnik’s
leadership. When Botvinnik knew about Stalin’s ‘advice’ he was very angry. This
mistrust of his chess strength was humiliating for him. During the closing
ceremony of the match-tournament he ‘forgot,’ as was the rule at the time, to thank
Stalin for his attention to chess players. And in their turn, the authorities ‘forgot’ to
award Botvinnik with the Order of Lenin, which he received together with me in
1957 after he had lost a match to me ...”
Very interesting. Smyslov’s account supports the idea that Botvinnik did indeed
say “no” to Stalin, or at least honestly resented his interference. That Botvinnik,
who sent a gushing, sycophantic telegram to Stalin after winning Nottingham 1936,
would neglect to thank him in 1948, thereby incurring the displeasure of authorities
he had always cultivated, seems more than slightly significant.
Other questions:
● What does Bronstein know?
● What else on Keres may still await discovery in Soviet archives?
● Why Keres’ unusually long resistance in his first, third and fourth games
with Botvinnik at Hague-Moscow?
● Did Botvinnik deliberately let Keres win their last game, to prevent
Reshevsky finishing ahead of Keres?
Most of these and others will probably remain forever unanswered. If Bronstein
can divulge anything more, he had best be asked soon. As for archives, the diligent

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The Skittles Room
investigator Valter Heuer has found little new since 1995. Has the resurgence of
Keres-related research Heuer helped start run its course? One hopes not.
Does It Matter?
It’s sometimes said “So what if there was a fix? Botvinnik would have won
anyway!”, or “Who cares what happened 50 years ago?”. I find these attitudes
disturbing. To make a political analogy, Richard Nixon would probably have won
re-election as U.S. President in 1972 no matter how his campaign was conducted.
Yet during and after the campaign he and/or his subordinates engaged in manifold
illegal activities, most notably the Watergate break-in and cover-up. These led to
his impeachment and resignation. To argue that Nixon should have been forgiven,
because “he would have won anyway,” is to flout the Constitution of the United
States. As for the “50 years ago” argument, discovery and prosecution of Nazi war
criminals still goes on today.
Granted, fixing a chess tournament is not a comparable crime. Yet the game has
values that must be upheld. In this writer’s opinion, the most important value to
uphold in chess, at any level, whether a world title match or a beginners’ skittles
game, is this: free and fair competition. When games are decided by something
other than the players themselves, chess is corrupted and perverted. The
Keres-Botvinnik case is a major, but by no means the only, and arguably not the
worst, instance of such corruption.
In American baseball, in 1919, eight members of the Chicago White Sox took
bribes from gamblers to lose the World Series. When it was discovered, those eight
men were banned from baseball for life, and there has been no comparable scandal
since. Chess, in contrast, has never been willing or able to police itself in that
manner. It is not surprising then that corruption has persisted and spread. As
George Santayana said, “Those who do not remember the past are condemned to
fulfil it.” That is why the Keres case matters.

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