After Magnus Carlsen, Chess Has Entered a New Age

In a sport where machines have already won, the new world chess champion is neither a robot nor a digital prodigy, but an Indian boy who, as a child, did not use computers to train. Gukesh Dommaraju, who grew up in Chennai, has become the youngest world champion in the history of chess. But what's really surprising? Until he had already become a grandmaster, Gukesh never used the artificial intelligence systems that now dominate the preparation of all top players. His coach, Vishnu Prasanna, was convinced that young players needed to develop their game piece by piece, without jumping straight to machine solutions. And this radical decision has enabled him to handle pressure and uncertainty, two factors that computers cannot teach. We usually think that chess has now become a competition between those who know how to use software best. Instead, it was precisely the young man who resisted the allure of digital engines the longest who became the new king. Gukesh broke Carlsen’s record for the fastest time to reach 2,750 Elo points, but more importantly, he brought a rare calm and maturity, the result of an almost philosophical mental training regimen: meditation, minimal social media, and plenty of room for instinct. His journey serves as a reminder that one can be highly modern without being a slave to technology. In his latest book, Interregnum, Jordan Himelfarb portrays the new generation of chess players as a gallery of personalities rather than technicians: Wesley So, the dreamer; Nakamura, the provocateur who feels more like a streamer than a champion; Ding Liren, the sensitive poet who fell into depression after winning the World Championship. And then there is Carlsen, who, although no longer wishing to defend his title, remains the shadow that looms over everyone. But here comes the real twist: just a few months after his world championship triumph, Gukesh drops out of the top ten. And just when everyone thinks his era is already over, another very young player, Sindarov, emerges, ready to challenge him with a record-breaking winning streak. Here comes the real twist: in an era when artificial intelligence seems unbeatable, what keeps us glued to chess is not the perfection of the moves, but the unpredictability and the human drama. It's not the final result that matters, but what happens in the minds and hearts of the players. The beauty of chess lies precisely in what goes beyond logic, amid desire, fear, intuition, and effort. And if you think that, with machines at the helm, everything is already written, just look at the chaos of the post-Carlsen era: every new champion is immediately challenged, and every game becomes a story of vulnerability and ambition. However, there is one detail that gives us pause: Gukesh beat Carlsen only once, and then he had a crisis. The title guarantees nothing; the merry-go-round always starts again. So, in this era of perfect solutions, the real game is to remain human. If you want a perspective that is missing from almost all discussions about digital chess, consider this: Technology has not robbed the game of its soul; it has merely made it clearer who still has a soul. The phrase I take away with me is this: In modern chess, the true king is not the one who finds the perfect move, but the one who withstands the inner storm. If you recognized yourself in the idea that winning isn’t just a matter of logic, on Lara Notes you can press I’m In — it means that this perspective now belongs to you. And if you feel like sharing this story with someone—perhaps with those who think machines have already won—on Lara Notes, you can capture that moment with Shared Offline: that way, your conversation won't be lost. This Note comes from an article in The New Yorker and will save you 3 minutes.