Garry Kasparov: The master who won't be Putin's pawn

The chess prodigy honoured by the Soviet Union now combines his Western lecture tours with vociferous opposition to the Kremlin regime

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Garry Kasparov was involved in some epic clashes during his time as the world's leading chess player, but of late, he's picked an opponent that he seems most unlikely to defeat: Vladimir Putin. Revered in Russia as a chess legend, he has become persona non grata by dint of his withering attacks on the country's leader, who he says has perpetrated "the greatest robbery in the history of the human race" by dividing the proceeds of Russia's wealth among his cronies.

Kasparov lives in a quiet and pleasant area of central Moscow. I am escorted up to his apartment by a bodyguard and received by his mother, Klara, who eyes me with some distrust. I wait for Kasparov in the spacious living room of the apartment, which is done out in a style best described as late-Soviet opulence. With glass chandeliers and ornate mahogany cabinets overflowing with crystal and china ornaments, it's how I imagine the apartment of a 1970s politburo bigwig might have looked.

Conical, spherical and chess-piece-shaped crystal trophies – the spoils of two decades spent at the pinnacle of the chess world – dominate the room. In time, Kasparov breezes in and offers greetings in his flawless English, spoken with twangs of American, Russian and – it seems to me – Dutch, making up an accent that is difficult to place. The furrowed brow is unmistakable, and behind it the intellect of perhaps the greatest chess brain in history.

It's nearly a year since he was arrested at one of the rallies of his Other Russia coalition, which features everyone from Trotskyists to libertarians united by their marginal status and opposition to the Putin regime. He briefly entertained the hope of running for the presidency, but administrative barriers were put in his way.

Since the election of Putin's protégé, Dmitry Medvedev, in March, Kasparov seems to have faded somewhat from public view, I say. What's he been up to? "I don't like to call it an election: that gives the wrong impression," he quickly replies. "Barack Obama had 65 million voters. Medvedev had one."

He makes nonsense of the idea that Medvedev might have a genuine liberal agenda, immediately launching into a political diatribe. It's a "typical trick of undemocratic regimes" to put a supposed reformer in place. (Medvedev has introduced a bill to extend the presidential term from four years to six, setting off speculation that his mentor intends to return to the post very soon.) And in the new climate of financial doom, with oil prices plummeting, Kasparov predicts a rocky ride for the Putin-Medvedev tandemocracy.

"I would be surprised if this regime lasts more than 18 months," he says. "I don't know what form change will take. We just have to hope it won't be violent: this country has had enough violence. But the regime is pushing it towards that. Soon there will be hundreds of thousands of people on the streets." The National Assembly, a debating forum set up by Other Russia, is there to help provide a transition when this happens, he says.

This sounds rather fanciful. The Other Russia politicians enjoy very little public support. This is partly because state control of television keeps them off the screens, but it is also because people just don't seem to want revolutionary change. The massed, street protests he envisages would surely require a drastic change in the public outlook, I suggest. Most people I know, even graduates who one might expect to be politically involved, are thoroughly uninterested in protest, even if they dislike Putin.

"The 15 per cent of people who make up this 'new middle class' – they are Putin's strongest support group – have had it good," he says. "They could get credit, they could buy cars, maybe even an apartment, travel abroad. Now they are facing major problems. You can lose your job, you can lose your apartment because you cannot pay. They are used to a passive political mode, but they read the internet and they see all these billions of dollars disappearing. Where does the money go? Into the hands of Putin's buddies. These people will learn quick political lessons."

Kasparov was born in 1963 in Baku, now the capital of independent Azerbaijan, to an Armenian mother and Jewish father. His father's surname was Weinstein, and his mother's Kasparyan, which was later Russified to Kasparov. His talent was immediately visible, and at seven he began the life of a chess prodigy, training at elite Soviet academies. By the 1980s he was challenging Anatoly Karpov for the title of world champion.

Their first match, in 1984 in Moscow, had Kasparov 4-0 down in a "first to six" tournament. He then managed to draw 17 successive games before eking a win. With the score at 5-3 to Karpov, after 48 games, the match was called off. Kasparov was furious, feeling he had the upper hand at last and would go on to win. The next year, he got his revenge and won the title.

Karpov was always seen as an establishment character, while Kasparov was the young rebel, a distinction that has remained until today: while Kasparov leads the Other Russia coalition of dissidents, Karpov sits in Putin's Public Chamber.

Kasparov had always been politically engaged, but the decision to go into politics properly didn't come until the end of 2004, and was swayed by two events. One was his win in the Russian chess championships, the only major title to elude him previously. "I had my final dream in chess. When my son was born in the mid-1990s, my dream was for him to be old enough to see his father playing and winning."

The other event was the Beslan school siege, which ended with Russian special forces storming the school and hundreds of children dying. Although he had had his doubts about the Putin government since its inception in 2000, Beslan was the final straw. "I had to make a choice. Either you stay in this country and fight it, or you leave. You can't live here and pretend it doesn't bother you."

Kasparov decided to stay. Is it a choice that he regrets now? After all, he had the money and the contacts to live a luxurious life in any world city of his choosing.

"We all have our thoughts in the night," he says. "But how can you leave all these people? As long as I can do it without immediate physical danger for me and my family, I will do it. I am still protected by my name – not a very reliable protection, but some protection. A lot of other people in our movement don't have that."

His name hasn't stopped the harassment, however. Last year I was due to interview him before the Duma elections, and had bought a plane ticket to St Petersburg, where he was travelling for an opposition rally. I had been promised an interview during the flight, but the night before, he was arrested at the Moscow rally, and given five days in prison. "They probably arrested me because you were planning to interview me the next day," he jokes.

Vociferous critics of the Kremlin have a habit of coming to sticky ends. One need only recall the journalist Anna Politkovskaya, shot dead in Moscow, or Alexander Litvinenko, who died of polonium poisoning in London two years ago. Kasparov is permanently followed, he says, and his phones are tapped. On the night of the US elections, a battered Soviet-era car, without licence plates, rammed into his car while he was giving a radio interview. He retains a retinue of bodyguards, one of whom sits in on our interview. It's not going to protect him against polonium, but it does guard against attacks by young fanatics from Putin-friendly youth brigades such as Nashi.

A "fan" once asked him to autograph a chessboard then beat him around the head with it. His press conferences and speeches have been disrupted by tear gas and a phallus-shaped mini helicopter that was swatted into oblivion by a security guard.

Kasparov's move into politics also revealed his real friends. "Many people just disappeared," he says, with a smile that suggests he's happy to see the back of them. "When I was released from prison last year I asked my mother who called during the five days I was inside. I was quite surprised at how many people didn't even call."

Support did come from many people, however, and in one case it was thoroughly unexpected. Karpov, with whom Kasparov had not spoken for years, tried to visit his former foe in prison. "The prison guard told me he had a package of chess magazines from Karpov and I thought he was joking," says Kasparov. "We had a lot of bad blood; I didn't and don't approve of his politics, but for him to put the champions' brotherhood above everything else was a big step."

Putin is less forgiving. One of the rare occasions when he so much as acknowledged Kasparov's existence was when he was asked by Time magazine during his "Person of the Year" interview last December about the former chess star's arrest. "Why do you think Mr Kasparov was speaking English rather than Russian when he was detained?" said Mr Putin, looking irritated at the question. "Did this not occur to you? First and foremost his deeds were not aimed at his own people but rather at a Western audience. A person who works for an international audience can never be a leader in his own country."

Perhaps Putin had a point. At times before the election, it seemed as though Kasparov might be suffering from "Saakashvili Syndrome" – assiduously courting the foreign press, like the Georgian President, while neglecting his domestic audience. But in the case of Kasparov, there's a fairly good reason for this. Entrenched on the "stop-lists" that name those people deemed unsuitable for airtime on state-controlled television, he is invisible to most Russians. When he is mentioned, it is usually in a defamatory context, with the implication that he has an American passport, and is working for foreign enemies of Russia.

"I know two languages, and if I speak to English-speaking journalists I speak English," says Kasparov when I put Putin's criticism to him. "The problem is that there was no Russian TV camera when I was arrested. I would be very happy to present my views on Russian television. I can speak much better Russian than Putin. If he wants to check, we can do it on television in public, and find out who speaks, or writes, better Russian."

He makes his money now on the international lecture circuit, where he brings chess strategy to bear on personal and business problems. Next month he is speaking at the Leaders in London conference, along with the likes of Rudy Giuliani, the former presidential hopeful, and the business guru Jack Welch.

Does chess – a cerebral, individualistic pursuit if ever there was one – really help solve real problems? Yes, says Kasparov: "I talk about strategy, tactics, achieving your potential, decoding the complexity of life, so it's mainly about the big picture. I feel I have enough experience to pull these things together."

Kasparov rules out a return to professional chess, saying that "the river only flows in one direction". These days, his chess playing is restricted to quickfire games online. Does he play anonymously, I ask? "Maybe they know who I am," he says with a faint grin.

It seems unlikely that his successes in chess will be matched on the political playing field, but ultimately, he says, that doesn't matter. "This is a battle I don't care whether I win or not. For me it was a moral imperative. You play, your chances are slim, but it's something you do because you believe you must do it."

A dissenter's moves

1963 Born Garry Weinstein, in Baku, Azerbaijan. At the age of 12, he adopted his mother's maiden name, Kasparyan, which was modified to the Russian Kasparov.

1976 Won the Soviet junior championship in Tbilisi.

1978 Became a chess master after winning the Sokolosky tournament in Minsk. He went on to become the youngest competitor in the Soviet chess championship.

1980 Won the world junior chess championship before making his debut for the Soviet Union at the Chess Olympiad in Malta.

1984 Won the right to play world No 1 Anatoly Karpov for the world championship. After going down five games to nil, Kasparov fought back to take the match through to 48 games. The match was ended without result. Joined Communist Party.

1985 Became youngest world champion in history by defeating Karpov 13-11 in Moscow. Several rematches followed. The fifth and final one took place in New York and Lyons in 1990.

1986 Created Grandmasters' Association to give players greater say in the world chess organisation, FIDE.

1987 Elected to the Central Committee of Komsomol.

1990 Left Communist Party to help form the Democratic Party of Russia.

1993 Played and beat Nigel Short outside FIDE jurisdiction under the organisation of the Professional Chess Association. This meant that there were two world champions: Kasparov in the PCA and Karpov in FIDE.

1996 Campaigned for Boris Yeltsin.

1997 Defeated by Deep Blue – the first time a computer had beaten a world champion in match play.

2000 Lost world championship to his former student Vladimir Kramnik.

2003 Published the first volume of his five-volume 'My Great Predecessors'.

2005 Retired from serious competitive chess. Created the United Civil Front with the aim of preserving electoral democracy in Russia.

2007 Arrested for organising the March of the Dissenters. Later said that he would run for the Russian presidency, but had to withdraw after he claimed his party, the Other Russia coalition, was being suppressed by the Russian government.