published in Eastern Economist #424, March 19, 2002
Just this week, there was a grand celebration of Ruslan Ponamariov, the young Ukrainian who became the FIDE world chess champion. There everybody was, dressed to the nines at Palats Ukraïna in Kyiv, excited that this shaggy-haired blond kid who was one of their own had – out of the blue – got to the top.
At the time of the FIDE tournament Jan. 23 in Moscow, none of the 128 representatives from 50 countries imagined that two young Ukrainians, Vasyl Ivanchuk and Mr. Ponamariov, would reach the finals – let alone that one of them would win [see RC#33]. For Mr. Ponamariov, it meant half a million bucks and a medal from the president.
At 18, Ruslan Ponamariov was the youngest world chess champion ever.
Of course, a week hadn’t gone by before the Spaniards organizing a Super Tournament in Linares woke up and smelled the coffee. On Dec. 24, they had invited Ruslan Ponamariov to their competition for early March. At the time, they hadn’t thought much of it. Mr. Ponamariov was just “another Russian chess freak” from Ukraine.
Mr. Ponamariov turned them down. He had been asked to open a chess school in his home town of Kramatorsk on the same day. Also, his parents thought he was too young for such a high-powered meet.
But this no-name kid was now a world champion. Not only that, he had money.
So on Feb. 1, the Linares organizers gave Mr. Ponamariov an ultimatum. 48 hours to “rectify the situation” or they would sue him. For a cool million!
It was a no-brainer. Mr. Ponamariov agreed to go, after all, and the opening in Kramatorsk was postponed.
The Spaniards were in a win-win situation. As long as he showed up, it meant free extra publicity. If he didn’t and they sued, they’d have extra cash for a high-flying reception on the Salvador Dali.
On Mar. 11, Ruslan did even better. He proved his Moscow title was no fluke. Drawing in the last game with India’s Vishvanatan Anand, he came in second at Linares. Seasoned Russian champion Garry Kasparov won the title.
So you might forgive FIDE President Kirsan Iliumzhynov this week for waxing a little Shakespearean. “The birth of the next Chess King, Ponamariov, is a great event,” he intoned at Palats Ukraina. Everybody clapped and cheered. There were even a few wolf-whistles. Ruslan blushed and tossed back his hair.
Mr. Iliumzhynov then announced grandly that Ruslan had been given a three-room apartment in Elista, Kalmykia. In case you didn’t know, Kalmykia is a Russian province situated on the northern shores of the Caspian Sea, not far from the Volga River. Now, maybe if it had been a seaside house in Sochi, this would have been something to write home about. Honestly, I just can’t see Mr. Ponamariov taking weekends off to sit on the Caspian Sea looking at distant oil slicks and humming “Yo-ho, heave ho.”
Nevertheless, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house as the skinny blond kid from Kramatorsk took his bows.
But then the spotlight was abruptly shunted off and the Ruslan Ponamariov show was over.
The World Chess Federation had some sucking up to do.
The drums rolled, the spotlights dance.
Mr. Iliumzhynov announced with a fluorish that he was now going to award Leonid Kuchma, the President of Ukraine, as well. As though Mr. Ponamariov’s achievement was somehow thanks to a head of state who had probably never heard his name prior to Jan. 23.
It seems that the Presidential Council of the World Chess Federation had decided to bestow Mr. Kuchma with an honorary chess title. Mr. Iliumzhynov revealed that he had been made Grand Knight of the Chess Kingdom. As a sign of this honor, Mr. K was presented with a Kalmykian horse.
But that wasn’t everything. The honorary birthday boy had more coming to him from Mr. Iliumzhynov’s bag of goodies.
Apparently, when he was 20, back in 1958, Leonid Kuchma had worked in West Kazakhstan oblast, near Pavlograd. In any case, Mr. K had earned a Komsomol award back then.
In the Soviet Union, the Komsomol – the communist union of young people – was a kind of universal Scout organization for everybody over 14. Only you couldn’t get a good job or get into a good school without belonging to it. The Komsomol became the Old Boys network of the Soviet Union, much as the Parisian institute that graduates all senior government officials in France. And senior Komsomol members became what is known throughout the FSU as the nomenklatura: oligarchs and top officials. They run the show – just like their scandal-ridden French counterparts.
So Mr. Iliumzhynov presented Mr. Kuchma an award that had been supposedly waiting for him for 44 years. An honorary Komsomol award called “For Developing Virgin Lands.”
I know Kalmykia is out there in the boonies, but I can just imagine what “virgin lands” a 20-year-old kid might have been developing. Along with umpteen other kids his age, no doubt.
I just don’t think it compares to Ruslan Ponamariov’s achievement.
But guess which event took the headlines in the local wire services? You got it. Mr. Kuchma’s award – which just happened to be taking place at a party for Ruslan Ponamariov, the youngest World Chess Champion on record. The one who brought Ukraine the real glory.
All I have to say to that is, “Semper Fido.” Arf, arf. •
–from the notebooks of Pan O.
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