Three of the four Afghans who left their country to compete last week in the Chess Olympiad in Samarkand, Uzbekistan, were detained at the border on Monday when they returned to Afghanistan, where chess is banned by the Taliban government. The players are under house arrest in Kabul and face penalties that could include corporal punishment. The fourth player has been able to return home without reprisals.

Inside the European Parliament, the Progressive Alliance of Socialists and Democrats is trying to have the matter debated at the request of Spanish MEP Ignacio Sánchez Amor. And the International Chess Federation (FIDE) has announced diplomatic measures of support.

Khaibar Farazi —who besides being a chess player is a very popular television comedian in Afghanistan— and Habibullah Guldoost, captain of the Women’s Team (which includes four women living abroad) at the Olympiad, contacted this newspaper from the border as soon as they were detained on Monday night: “They confiscated our passports and separated the three of us into different rooms,” they told this newspaper, which was shown the official Taliban arrest orders. Hours later they were returned to Kabul, where they remain under house arrest. The third detainee is Habibullah Amini, a member of the Absolute Team, like Farazi.

The fourth returnee (the other eight members of Afghanistan’s Olympiad delegation live abroad) is Mirzaad Sayed Wahabuddin, who crossed the Hairatan border without any problems. Hairatan is the only border crossing open between Uzbekistan and Afghanistan.

Afghanistan’s FIDE delegate, Adzhmal Mangal, whose personal situation is ambiguous (he enters and leaves the country with some frequency while almost all other members of the Afghan federation live abroad) sought to play down the issue and asked that publication of the events be delayed: “”Please, do not worry yet, since the information is uncertain. They are doing well and are at home. Within the next two or three days, everything should become clear. I will inform you as soon as I have news,” he wrote, still from Samarkand.

By contrast, the Absolute Team captain, Zaheer Asefi, who lives in the Netherlands, sounded much more worried and recalled how it all began: “The four left Afghanistan legally two weeks ago, but at midnight, when border checks are more lax.” Although chess is banned (“suspended,” the government says), with clubs closed and at minimum fines for anyone caught playing or simply holding a board, the four believed that any punishment on their return from the Olympiad would be mild.

What they did not know was that, just one hour after their departure, all border posts, both air and land, received a strict order from the government, accompanied by numerous attached documents, to detain them. That was followed by another order concerning their return once the government confirmed they were participating in the Olympiad under Afghanistan’s name and flag, and at a venue where men and women (more than 3,000 people in total, from around 200 countries) were in close physical proximity each day for two weeks; moreover, the fact that the four women on the women’s team live abroad —and play with uncovered heads and ordinary clothing in free countries— may particularly anger the Taliban, according to consulted sources.

Asefi insists that it is impossible to predict what punishments they could face: “The most radical interpretations [such as the Taliban’s] of the sharía [the moral code that guides Muslims’ public and private lives] do not specifically list chess among punishable acts, but they associate it with gambling and games of chance, even though that link existed only in the Middle Ages [and not in all countries]. Since gambling is explicitly prohibited, there is a possibility that punishments could be severe.” In the most extreme cases, those punishments include amputation of the hands or other corporal mistreatment.

Those radical interpretations are not limited to the Taliban. Ten years ago, the Saudi mufti Abdulaziz Al-Sheikh said chess should be banned, justifying it this way: “It makes the rich poor, and the poor rich. It creates hostility and wastes time.” Both the Taliban and that mufti implicitly scorn the later correction of Iranian ayatollah Khomeini, who, after banning chess following the 1979 Revolution —“It is a satanic game that disturbs the mind of those who play it,” he said— reversed his position and promoted the game shortly before his death in 1989. That disdain is linked to animosity between the two main branches of Islam, Shiism and Sunnism. In both Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia the tendencies are radical, but much closer to Sunnism than to Shiism.

Good relations between the Afghan government and Russia (which is very influential in FIDE) raise some hope that the new leaders of world chess can help resolve the humanitarian problem. “We will work on it,” the Kazakh (born in Russia) Timur Turlov, the newly elected president, told EL PAÍS. At least two other senior officials confirmed that diplomatic actions are under way. As for the European Parliament, the Progressive Alliance of Socialists and Democrats is trying to add the matter to the agenda of the next plenary session under urgent procedure.

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The mountains of Grand Teton could become the backdrop for a Major League Baseball game. The proposal is only on the table for now, but it has already drawn opposition from local officials and environmental groups because bringing baseball there would require building — even if only temporarily — a field inside one of the most important national parks in the United States.

MLB approached the Donald Trump administration to ask whether it would be possible to host a game there, according to league and White House officials. The proposal is part of the league’s search for venues beyond its usual stadiums for special games, a strategy that in recent years has taken Major League Baseball to fields in Iowa, a motorsports venue and other unconventional locations.

According to a report by The Washington Post, Frank Lands, deputy director of the National Park Service (NPS), recently visited Grand Teton and looked at three potential locations for a baseball field inside the park. The league asked “if it was possible to host a game at a national park, similar to the Field of Dreams game,” referring to the games played in Iowa.

The administration has distanced itself from the idea, clarifying: “This is not a Presidential directive, nor is it being directed by the White House. It’s also not being driven by the Department of Interior.” It added that the proposal is not a government priority. The NPS has not granted any permits, and MLB has not yet made any decision.

Major League Baseball has spent several years expanding the list of venues where it plays regular-season games outside its 30 traditional stadiums. The best-known experiment began with the Field of Dreams games in Dyersville, Iowa, inspired by the 1989 movie. The league returned there this year and plans to hold another game in August 2027.

It has also organized games at Rickwood Field in Birmingham, Alabama, and Bristol Motor Speedway in Tennessee. In the latter case, the 2025 game was even accompanied by food shortages at concession stands.

Bringing that concept to Grand Teton, however, presents a key difference. The park has broad stretches of flat land in Jackson Hole, with the Teton mountains as a backdrop, but any baseball field would require some type of infrastructure inside a protected area. One of the locations considered would be land that has already been disturbed and is used to store materials and equipment. Such areas, known within the parks as “bone yards,” could reduce the impact on areas that remain in their natural state.

But if the idea moves forward, the game would not happen immediately. The Athletic reported that 2028 would be the earliest possible date. For now, there is no National Park Service permit and no decision from MLB.

Opposition in Wyoming

Mike Gierau, a Democratic state senator who represents Jackson and areas near Grand Teton, told Cowboy State Daily that he is a baseball fan and considers both the sport and national parks to be two great American symbols, but he rejected the possibility of building a field inside the park. He called the proposal “absolutely abhorrent” and said parks should be preserved for their scenic and natural values rather than turned into venues for this type of infrastructure.

Environmental groups have also spoken out against the proposal. Chris Kassar, director of the Sierra Club’s Wyoming chapter, said in a statement that Americans want to strengthen protections for these spaces and that using bulldozers to build a stadium would move in the opposite direction.

Rob Wallace, a former deputy secretary of the Interior during Trump’s first administration and a Teton County resident, also questioned whether the project could move forward. He told the outlet that the protections governing the park would make hosting a game there extremely difficult.

Betsy Buffington, regional director of the National Parks Conservation Association, told The Washington Post that Grand Teton is not an appropriate location for a stadium and called the idea “ludicrous. Crazy. Ridiculous.” The park is home, among other species, to bears, wolves, bison, elk, and pronghorns.

Evan Gershkovich does not conceal the fact that he would rather be on the other side of the table. “Your job as an interviewer is much more fun than mine,” admits the journalist who has had to get used to being the center of the story. His ordeal began on March 29, 2023. The then–Moscow correspondent for The Wall Street Journal was detained that day on charges of espionage. He spent 16 months in prison before being freed in the largest prisoner swap between Russia and the West since the Cold War. The exchange, in which the governments of the United States and Germany were heavily involved, had the makings of a spy movie.

Since then he has had time to recover and to write This Cursed Beautiful Land, the book in which he recounts his ordeal. Gershkovich, the son of Russian immigrants, was raised in New Jersey but traveled to Russia in 2017 in search of his roots and an exciting career in journalism. He made friends there and enjoyed his investigative work until Vladimir Putin’s slide into authoritarianism made reporting increasingly difficult and forced many people in his circle to leave the country. “The party’s over,” is the chapter’s title. The next major twist came with a set-up by a source that led to his arrest in Yekaterinburg, deep in the Urals.

Gershkovich, 34, met EL PAÍS at the New York offices of Penguin Random House, the publisher of the book. Prison did not make him renounce his work. “Life feels heightened when you’re chasing a story. In those moments there’s an excitement that makes everything else seem boring.” It also did not worsen his view of the country that jailed him. He bristles when told that the tone of the book is surprisingly upbeat. “I’m not going to make up that they strung me up with a rope by my feet and look how miserable it was,” he replies, somewhat irritated.

In recent years, Gershkovich says he has found a balance between his two selves: Evan, the kid who grew up in New Jersey, and Vanya—the name he answered to in prison—who was so immersed in the Russian language that when the U.S. ambassador visited him he struggled to find words in English.

Question. It is an obvious question, but in your case unavoidable. How are you?

Answer. Very well. It took me about the same time I was in [prison] to get back to life. The beginning was quite difficult. I saw a psychiatrist who specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder. I had certain symptoms. I had difficulty sleeping. Certain things might trigger me. Short temper, a fuse, that kind of thing. But with time, it’s getting better. Writing the book also helped—it’s therapy in a way too: you’re looking at an event, staring at it straight on, processing it. At first the hardest part is realizing you’ve forgotten what normal felt like. You don’t feel well and it’s really hard to remember what normal is because it’s not like in normal life you always feel good. You’re searching for what normal is and that takes a long time. But I’m doing really well.

Q. In the book you provide many details about what happened to you, but you don’t explain how it affected you. How have those 491 days in prison changed your relationship with Russia and your work as a journalist?

A. Actually, nothing’s really changed. I feel like the same exact person. I think my relationship to journalism hasn’t changed whatsoever, and my relationship to Russia hasn’t changed at all. The last time they’d taken a foreign correspondent hostage on fabricated espionage charges was 40 years before that under the Soviet Union. We didn’t think something like this would happen. But that hasn’t changed my view of the country. The Russian state was already on a certain path.

Q. It’s striking how you describe your time in prison in quite a positive way. You talk about the camaraderie you found there and recount genuinely funny moments, like when you cook and say it reminds you of the film Goodfellas. Have you considered whether you experienced something like Stockholm syndrome?

A. No, definitely not. The thing that I tried to describe is how I was treated compared to others. It’s something that recurs in Russia’s history: they are very careful about who they torture and mangle and murder. Ukrainian journalist Victoria Roshchina was captured in occupied territory, taken to Russia and murdered. She was sent back to her family without any teeth in a body bag. So that’s just the reality of it. I tried to describe the experience as accurately as possible. It is not pleasant to be in a tiny room with another person and not be able to leave. The conditions were good compared with other prisoners, but the Russian prison system is very harsh. I describe the panic attacks I suffered. But you get used to things. Humans are incredibly adaptable.

Q. Aside from the conditions, your account of the experience seems fairly optimistic. At one point you say it helped you deepen your understanding of Russia.

A. What I tried to convey in the book is that they didn’t break me as a human being; they didn’t torture me or make my life miserable. If those things had happened, the book would be different. As for my relationship with Russia, the book describes a big bad Russian state that is torturing and maiming Ukrainians, that started imperialistic wars that it shouldn’t have started. But at the same time, I am Russian. I’m not gonna go write off an entire people and say, look at this horrible group of people. I belong to them as well. It would be ridiculous for me, after being arrested, to say that I hate Russians; that would be self-hating. When you read a Gulag memoir, it can be the most miserable experience in human existence and then at the same time be decent: people bake birthday cakes, write poetry, fall in love and form families in the Gulags. Compared with that, my experience was like a five-star resort.

Q. Why do you think you coped well with the experience?

A. For several reasons. First, I’m from a Russian background, so I speak the language; I knew I could communicate with inmates, guards and FSB investigators [the Russian intelligence agency]. Also, I’m blessed with a sense of humor. That’s really lucky and important because if you take everything really seriously all the time, you’re not going to handle it well. Finally, I had worked as a reporter in Russia for five and a half years before, so I knew the system. When I went to court, I wasn’t shocked that the judge wasn’t listening to rational arguments—something that, for example, wouldn’t happen to a tourist who is set up and framed with drugs. From the start I had no expectation of receiving a fair trial.

Q. You say you were treated better because they knew you would one day be released and write this book.

A. Yes, because I would be writing about it. I assume that’s why they weren’t stringing me up by my feet and electrocuting me. But also because they knew that detaining a foreign correspondent from The Wall Street Journal would provoke a huge worldwide uproar, something they needed to pressure for a prisoner swap.

Q. What degree of responsibility do you see in Russian society, which remains inert in the face of the war in Ukraine?

A. It’s really hard to do polling in Russia. We can try as best we can but it seems to me it’s sort of like 15 percent are really for the war, 15 percent are really against the war, and then 70 percent are just sort of ‘please leave me alone.’ It’s a society that never catches a break: it’s the Tsarist period, it’s the Soviet period, and we have a little blip in the 90s, and now Putin’s here, and he’s been here for 26 years. From the outside, it’s easy to say they are complicit or that they’re not rising up and stopping what’s happening. But they face the risk of ending up in prison. Like a historian I know, sentenced to eight years for writing about war crimes in Bucha. The logical reaction, if you want to preserve something like a normal life, is to keep your head down.

Q. Opposition leader Alexei Navalny was expected to be part of the prisoner swap that freed you, but six months earlier he was killed in a Siberian prison. Do you think Putin never intended to free him?

A. There was a lot of debate—people saying the swap should have been carried out more quickly so perhaps he would still be alive. It’s impossible to know for sure, but I think they would have killed him anyway. I think his death sentence was basically written.

Q. For posing a danger to the regime.

A. I don’t know if he truly was a danger, but I think they clearly saw it that way. Why would they kill him otherwise?

Q. How did you experience the moral debate surrounding the swap?

A. I fully understand the debate. Each country approaches this issue differently. The United States has considered since the time of Thomas Jefferson, in the early 19th century, that every U.S. citizen is as important as every other U.S. citizen, and we will do everything in our power to get them back.

Q. But by becoming a bargaining chip, it creates incentives to capture more people to be used in future swaps.

A. That’s true. And the Russians are smart. The swap happened the way they wanted it to. They got their guy [Vadim Krasikov] back from Germany who killed a person on a state-assigned mission. And they got away with it in the sense that there was no sanctions imposed on them. You feel guilty that the person is free because of you. But I see two aspects. First, I’m glad we have that policy because thanks to it I’m free. And second, I agree with the idea behind it. It’s positive that journalists, opponents and human rights activists are free. It’s a statement of principles in a world where we’re shifting away from liberal and free values, and where an autocratic axis is emerging. It’s something to be proud of.

Q. In the book you say that when you returned to Washington and wanted to meet some officials, they were afraid of being seen with you amid the cuts led by Elon Musk. You suggest that reminded you of things you experienced in Russia. Do you see a parallel with the administration of Donald Trump?

A. I think there are more similarities with Viktor Orbán’s Hungary than with Russia. I was frightened when Trump called the FBI directly to investigate alleged voter fraud in Georgia in 2020. Calling a national intelligence agency and ordering it to do something is dangerous. You see some parallelisms, but I think it’s too simplistic and crude to say, ‘oh, it’s like Russia.’ You need to analyze how certain countries become more authoritarian. We should not look at just big bad Russia, but also what lessons we can learn for ourselves about how institutions function.

Q. You have followed him for years—what do you think is Putin’s true driving force?

A. I think what’s moved him at different points has been very different, but I think it’s more interesting to think about what moves him now. What drives him now, at 73 and after 26 years in power, is his desire to see himself in the pantheon of Russian leaders and in history. He thinks in terms of empire and trying to expand the empire. He didn’t use to be this way in the first four or eight years. He would talk about Russia’s security and Russia’s interests. One of my favorite quotes was spoken by Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov. When asked how Putin could have planned the war without much of the Russian establishment knowing, he replied: ‘He has three advisors: Ivan the Terrible, Peter the Great and Catherine the Great.’

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