Chess Politics Needs Real Coalitions

Chess politics needs real coalitions.

For a sport built on strategy, chess has one of the least strategic political systems imaginable. FIDE — the International Chess Federation — is made up of nearly 200 national federations. Each one, from India to Iceland, gets one vote. Together, they elect the FIDE President every four years, approve budgets, and set the direction of the sport. On paper, it’s a democracy. In reality, it’s more like a family reunion that happens once every four years, where everyone politely agrees to keep things the same — and then returns home until the next one.

Between elections, the board goes quiet. There are formal gatherings (called assemblies, often held online), but no lasting alliances, no organized blocs of countries working toward shared goals. There are barely even goals. Communication between federations is minimal — most contact happens at official events or congresses, not in coordinated policy discussions.

And that’s odd, because the FIDE Charter gives federations enormous collective power. Ten of them acting together can place an item on the General Assembly agenda (Article 8.3). A quarter of them can demand an Extraordinary Assembly (Article 5.7). Continental unions — Europe, Asia, Africa, and the Americas — are explicitly empowered under Article 16 to propose regulations, request reforms, or even question how development funds are used.

If federations ever decided to use these mechanisms — to make their agenda public, coordinate outside the election cycle, and demand things formally — the entire system of chess politics would change overnight. They could push for transparency on how grants are distributed (Article 24.1), question appointments, propose mid-cycle reforms, or ask questions about FIDE’s commercial deals. The tools are there.

Part of the reason is generational. Chess politics is a space for very old people — because it takes decades to become friends with other chess officials. The meetings are infrequent, and most federation leaders are homebodies who rarely travel for business unless it’s a congress or a World Championship. Even that happens only every two years. It’s hard to build a coalition when your main form of diplomacy is bumping into someone at a breakfast buffet once a decade.

When alliances do appear, they’re about geopolitics and traditions. The Emirates might coordinate votes across the Arab world; Russia traditionally influences the former CIS and parts of Africa. But these are temporary voting machines, not political coalitions. Once the election is over, they’re dismantled like campaign billboards after polling day. The political logic of chess remains faintly feudal — small federations orbiting larger powers, waiting for a nod, a grant, or an invitation.

Other sports have outgrown this. Organizations like Football’s UEFA aren’t just event organizers; they are political ecosystems that negotiate funding, governance, and global influence. In chess, the continental bodies mostly organize tournaments and issue polite press releases.

And yet, the moment federations begin to talk to each other regularly — to publish collective agendas, act transparently, and coordinate mid-election cycle — the balance of power will shift. Accountability will increase.

I understand why chess politics is the way it is, but I still find it ironic. The game that teaches coordination, foresight, and the value of connected pieces still runs a political system where every piece acts alone.

This is an opinion piece by Ilya Merenzon, CEO of World Chess. It was originally published in his personal blog.