“I was a grand master when Karpov was four, I am half Catholic, half Jewish, and he’s pure-blue Soviet. I lived through the siege of Leningrad and saw my relatives die of starvation. You don’t forget these things. Karpov? He’s a child of peacetime, of the modern world, a little boy who lives for chess. But where is his blood, his tears, his manhood? He’s cold and dry and doesn’t deserve his championship. He licks the boots of the regime, he concedes to them. He has, I suppose, great willpower for chess, but I have the experience. And his style is so safe, so unattractive. I am—how do you say—a sculptor of chess. He is merely a surgeon. He’s not the greatest player in the world, like he thinks; Bobby Fischer is. Then me. When Karpov loses here, he’ll sing a different tune, learn humility. He’ll know then what Spassky went through after Iceland, and myself for speaking out. Maybe then he can be a true world champion, but this time it is me, and I deserve it." Viktor Korchnoi (1978)