A Letter From the KGB Officer Who Watched Over Soviet Chess
Most of The KGB Plays Chess (ISBN: 978-1-888690-75-0) is written from the outside looking in. Players telling you what the KGB did to them. Historians connecting the dots. But Chapter 4 is different. It’s a letter. Written by Vladimir Popov, a retired KGB lieutenant colonel, addressed directly to the historian Yuri Felshtinsky. And it reads like nothing else in the book.
This is the spy writing to you himself.
Who Is Vladimir Popov?
Popov served in the KGB from 1972 to 1991. He worked in the Fifth Directorate, the branch that handled ideological threats, dissidents, and, yes, international sports. He watched over chess players as part of counterintelligence monitoring of international sports exchanges.
He left the KGB at 44 with the rank of lieutenant colonel. His discharge papers said “transferred to work in the national economy,” which is a very polite way of saying he quit. By 1995, at age 48, he left Russia for good and moved to Canada.
The letter is dated July 15, 2007.
Why He Wrote This Letter
Popov opens the letter with a warning. He tells Felshtinsky that the FSB (the KGB’s successor) has an active file on him and that his life is in danger. This is not small talk. Felshtinsky co-authored a book with Alexander Litvinenko, the former FSB officer who was murdered with polonium in London in November 2006. Popov is telling a man he’s never met: I know how these people work, and they are coming for you.
That sets the tone for the entire letter. This is not a memoir. It’s not an apology. It’s a warning from someone who spent nineteen years inside the machine.
Growing Disillusioned Inside the KGB
Popov describes how he slowly lost faith in the organization he served. He joined believing the KGB protected the country and its people. Over the years, he watched it become what he calls a “repressive, rather than protective organization,” sliding back toward the brutality of the 1930s.
When perestroika started, Popov had hope. It didn’t last. Blood was spilled in Vilnius and Tbilisi, and Popov says those events were instigated by the KGB, specifically by Deputy Director F. D. Bobkov, who ran the Fifth Directorate where Popov served.
This is an insider pointing at his own boss and saying: he did this.
Refusing the August 1991 Coup
This is the part of the letter that stands out the most. In August 1991, KGB Director Kryuchkov and a group of hardliners tried to overthrow Gorbachev. They formed the State Emergency Committee (SEC) and declared a state of emergency.
Popov says he refused. Flat out. He declared his “categorical refusal” to take any part in supporting the coup. Meanwhile, he says, all of his co-workers “zealously rushed to carry out the orders” from their bosses, hoping for promotions.
He adds a striking confession: “I must confess that I have never heard of anyone who refused to serve the SEC.” He was, as far as he knew, the only one.
Under martial law, refusing orders is punishable by death or long imprisonment. Popov knew this. He did it anyway. If Yeltsin hadn’t brought down the coup, Popov writes, “I, too, probably would not have been able to write what I am writing now.”
The Price of Saying No
After the coup failed, Popov wasn’t forgiven. His former colleagues in the Fifth Directorate came after him. “More than once, people tried to settle scores with me,” he writes. He doesn’t give details, just says he was lucky their attempts failed.
By 1995, he decided to stop testing fate. He left Russia permanently, leaving behind his mother and his family. That one sentence carries a lot of weight if you stop and think about it.
Putin and the KGB’s Long Game
A large chunk of the letter is Popov tracing how former KGB officers slowly took back political power in Russia. He describes Korzhakov’s attempts to seize control through Yeltsin’s security service. He describes General Bobkov building financial empires through the Most Bank. He describes various KGB factions, hostile to each other but united by one idea: “the subordination of the country to the security services.”
Then came Putin. Popov calls him “quiet, faceless, dependable, loyal to his bosses (up to a point), but also, like any true chekist, playing his own game.” He describes Putin using democrats and businessmen to climb to the top, then pulling the ladder up behind him.
And he quotes Putin’s famous line to FSB leadership: “The main task has been accomplished. Power in the country is ours.” Popov says most people thought Putin was joking. He wasn’t. He was talking to his people, and they understood exactly what he meant.
What He Says About Kasparov
Near the end of the letter, Popov does something remarkable. He officially vouches for Garry Kasparov.
He states, as a former KGB officer who monitored international sports, that Kasparov was under constant surveillance throughout his career. He says the KGB took measures to prevent Kasparov from defeating Karpov. And through all of it, Kasparov “proved himself to be a person of true humanist and democratic convictions, never making any deals with the authorities that went against his own notions.”
Coming from a KGB officer, this is about as strong a character reference as you can get. The man who was paid to watch you is now telling the world you were the real thing.
The Human Side of a KGB Officer
What makes this letter so interesting is not just the political analysis. It’s the person writing it. Popov is not apologizing for his nineteen years in the KGB. He’s not asking for sympathy. But you can read between the lines.
He was 25 when he joined. He left at 44, disillusioned. He fled Russia at 48, leaving his family behind. By the time he writes this letter, he’s 60, living in Canada, watching from a distance as everything he feared comes true.
There’s a loneliness to this letter. He addresses it to a man he’s apparently never met, because he feels compelled to warn him. He signs it formally: “Vladimir Konstantinovich Popov, Lieutenant Colonel of the KGB (Ret.).” Even after everything, that title still means something to him.
Why This Letter Matters
In most Cold War books, KGB officers are either faceless villains or dramatic defectors holding press conferences. Popov is neither. He’s a mid-level bureaucrat who had a crisis of conscience, made a dangerous choice, and paid for it quietly.
His account fills in gaps that no player or historian could. When he says the KGB tried to stop Kasparov from beating Karpov, it’s not speculation. He was in the room. When he describes the psychology of KGB officers rushing to support a coup, he’s describing people he sat next to at work.
The letter also acts as a bridge between the chess-specific content of the book and the bigger political story of Russia. Popov barely talks about chess. He talks about power, fear, and the machinery of a police state. For him, chess was just one small piece of the board. The real game was always about control.
This is maybe the most unusual chapter in the entire book. Not because of what it reveals, but because of who is doing the revealing.
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