Germany's chess village hopes heritage listing proves 'leap of joy' move

T he chess players of Ströbeck have a habit of frustrating their
opponents. Throughout the ages, strangers visiting the
village in the foot of the Harz mountains in central Germany
have been confronted with a community that has not only been
steeped in the “royal game” from an unusually early age, but has
also developed its own idiosyncratic rules, including special
moves, additional pieces and cryptic commands.
“That’s the accusation this place has always had to live with,”
said Kathrin Baltzer, who manages the chess museum
overlooking Ströbeck’s village square. “Little wonder we always
win, when no one else understands how we play the game.”
For the last decade it looked as if demographic change might
spell the endgame for Germany’s only Schachdorf , or “chess
village”, but in 2017 its 1,060 inhabitants are newly confident that
their customs will continue to unsettle opponents long into the
future. Shortly before the end of last year Ströbeck’s chess
traditions were officially added to Germany’s inventory of
“intangible cultural heritage” after a Unesco recommendation to
take steps to safeguard threatened customs and traditions.
“In a region which many intelligent young people are leaving,
keeping alive our chess traditions isn’t easy,” said Baltzer. “But
the Unesco name will offer us some symbolic protection.”
According to a local legend celebrated in artworks across the
village, chess arrived in Ströbeck thanks to a nobleman who was
imprisoned in the village and taught his guards how to play in the
year 1011, only a relatively short time after the game had spread
from India and Persia to Europe.
A 17th-century manual by the scholar Gustavus Selenus first
described a Ströbeck variant of chess, which was played on a
special board with 96 squares, as opposed to the usual 64, and
featured an additional cast of figures known as “advisers”, “old
men” and “couriers”.
Also known as “courier chess”, the rules included a special move
known as the “Ströbeck leap of joy”, whereby a pawn had to
jump back to its starting position before it could be converted
into a new piece.
Other traditions irked players who passed through the village. If, in
spite of the home advantage, a Ströbeck player was about to
walk into a trap set by the visiting opponent, members of the
audience were allowed to shout out the warning “Vadder, mit Rat!”
meaning “Father, be careful” in the local dialect.
Other customs demanded that anyone who wanted to marry a
woman born in the village had to first challenge the mayor to a
game on the black and white boards.
By the 20th century, chess had come to define Ströbeck’s
identity. A glass case in the museum contains a bundle of
emergency currency notes with chess motifs, issued locally at
the height of hyperinflation of the early 1920s. One note, entitled
“fool’s mate”, shows the US president Woodrow Wilson
metaphorically checkmating Germany with the “14 points” speech
that became the basis for the treaty of Versailles.
After the second world war, when Ströbeck found itself on the
eastern side of the new border dividing Germany, the village’s
chess customs received a further boost thanks to the Soviet
Union’s own gaming prowess. “East Germany’s big brother was a
great chess nation. That helped,” said Volker Heinholdt, the
primary school’s headteacher.
Measurable success, however, remained limited. In the late
1980s the village claimed its first and only notable trophy when
one of its residents won the GDR’s speed chess championship.
When the Berlin Wall fell and the old political order with it, it was
Ströbeck’s chess tradition that proved the most stable civic
institution. At the first free council elections after reunification, the
local chess club got the largest share of the vote, beating the
Christian Democratic party into second place.
Since then, declining economic fortunes and a dwindling
population have threatened to put an end to Ströbeck’s heritage.
The local school, where chess lessons have been mandatory
from the second to fourth year since 1823, had to close down its
secondary branch in 2004 because student numbers had fallen
below the required minimum.
The village pub, where locals used to hone their skills over a
beer, now only opens sporadically for tournaments and the
annual “human chess” festival, during which Ströbeckers in
medieval dress are directed across the chequered village square
by two players perched on tennis-umpire chairs.
Local students traditionally played the pieces, but in recent years
older people have had to step in. “The school is the important
thing for Ströbeck. Without the school, our traditions will die out,”
said Lisa Försterling, one of the senior members of the chess
club.
The village mayor, Jens Müller, said he has not had to play a
game of chess against someone keen to marry a local woman
since 2011, when he won the match but let the groom off for a
€70 donation to the chess club.
Being recognised as part of Germany’s cultural heritage has
reinjected Ströbeck with optimism, said Müller, a member of the
Social Democratic party. The village’s official status could help
secure funding in the future. There are plans to seek sponsors to
manufacture new “courier chess” boards and pieces, possibly for
a new tournament using the old rules.
With a bit of luck, Ströbeck could one day even be upgraded to
Unesco’s international heritage list, unlocking further financial
support. To get there, however, it faces local competition in a
similar discipline. The town of Altenburg, famous as the
birthplace of the popular cardgame Skat, was also declared part
of Germany’s intangible cultural heritage last year.

Theguardian