The 3 Modes of Thinking in Chess (and War)

A few days ago, I was chatting with the father of one of my chess students. His son has been improving steadily—we do online lessons each week, and he practices at home too. “He’s gotten pretty good at tactics and positional stuff,” the dad told me. “But when the opening ends... he just doesn’t know what to do.”

That line stuck with me:
“He just doesn’t know what to do.”

I’ve heard it before—not just from kids, but adult players too. They learn to spot forks and pins, they understand outposts and open files—but once the opening ends and no immediate threats appear, they feel lost. The game seems vague. Directionless.

And that’s not just a chess problem.
It’s a war problem too.

Think about it: a general might train his soldiers to shoot and survive. But without knowing why they're fighting or which battles are worth fighting for, can they really succeed?

Chess is no different. You need to attack and defend—but also understand where the game is going. That’s where strategic thinking comes in. It gives tactics and positional play a purpose.

In this post, we’ll explore the three core modes of thinking in chess—tactical, positional, and strategic—and see their resemblance with war.

♟️ 1. Tactical Thinking

This is sharp, fast thinking. You’re hunting tricks and threats—like forks, pins, or checkmates. It’s about short-term calculation:

“If I go here and they go there, can I win material?”

In war, it’s a sudden ambush or surprise strike. Dramatic. Decisive. But it only works if conditions are right.

♜ 2. Positional Thinking

This is slower, more patient. You’re evaluating weaknesses, pawn structures, and piece activity. You're building, not striking.

In war, this is like securing high ground, disrupting supply lines, or setting up defenses. It’s preparation for future success.

♖ 3. Strategic Thinking

This answers the deeper question:

“What am I trying to achieve in this game?”

It’s about long-term goals: maybe trading into a good endgame, launching a kingside pawn storm, or targeting a backward pawn.

In military terms, this is campaign planning. Not just how to fight—but what kind of war to fight.

⚠️ Why You Need All Three

These modes are different—but not separate.
You can’t succeed by focusing on just one.

• Tactics fail if your position is shaky.

• Strategy collapses if you overlook simple tactics.

• Positional play goes nowhere without a goal behind it.

That’s true in war too. Firepower, formation, and planning only work when they support each other.

Here’s a key insight I’ve learned—both as a player and a coach:

The best moves blend more than one mode of thinking.

Maybe you’re launching a long-term kingside attack (strategy). But if you miss a simple knight fork (tactics), the plan fails. Or maybe you spot a nice tactic to win a pawn—but ruin your structure in the process.

It’s like a general who wins a battle but loses the war. Or one with a brilliant strategy—but no troops in the right place to execute it.

🧠 The Best Players Know When to Switch Modes

Strong players—and great commanders—constantly shift gears. They zoom in to calculate, zoom out to plan. They wait when the position demands patience, and strike when the moment comes.

But here’s the tricky part:
The game doesn’t tell you which mode to use.

There’s no sign that says: “Time to think strategically now!” You have to read the position, stay flexible, and trust your judgment.

That’s what makes chess rich. And human.
You’re not just solving puzzles.
You’re navigating a battlefield.

🎯 When the 3 Modes Come Together

Let’s look at three real games where tactical, positional, and strategic thinking overlap in powerful ways:

♟️ Example 1: Tactics in the Service of Positional Dominance

Game: Kramnik–Carlsen (Dortmund, 2007) (Notes by GM Mihail Marin)

Kramnik didn’t use tactics to destroy—he used them to get a dominant position.

It’s like Napoleon before the Battle of Ulm (1805). Instead of fighting head-on, he used rapid, precise maneuvers to cut off the Austrian army and force surrender—winning without a major battle.

♞ Example 2: A Positional Sacrifice for Strategic Gain

Game: Kasparov–Shirov (Horgen, 1994) (Notes by GM Garry Kasparov)

Kasparov sacrificed material—not for a quick tactic, but to achieve a long-term strategic aim, backed by positional understanding.

This reminds me of the story of Hernán Cortés in 1519, who ordered his troops to sink their own ships to remove the option of retreat. It was bold—but strategically brilliant. Like Kasparov, he gave something up to commit fully.

⚠️ Example 3: Strategy Fails Without Support

Game: Keres–Smyslov (Zurich, 1953)

Keres launched a big strategic idea—but it collapsed due to poor tactical and positional groundwork.

It’s reminiscent of Germany’s push toward Moscow in 1941. Operation Barbarossa had a grand plan—but it failed due to poor logistics and tactical errors. Like Keres, they had the vision—but not the structure or timing.

✅ Conclusion: Becoming a Complete Thinker

When my student’s dad said, “He doesn’t know what to do after the opening,” he hit on something many players struggle with—the need for strategy.

But strategy alone won’t cut it.

You need tactical sharpness to seize chances.
You need positional sense to build lasting pressure.
And you need strategy to give them direction.

Chess, like war, rewards complete thinkers. The ones who plan, prepare, and strike when the moment is right.

So next time you’re at the board, ask yourself not just “What’s the best move?” but also:

“What kind of thinking does this position need right now?”

Recognizing the mode you’re in—and shifting gears when necessary—is what makes the difference between playing moves… and playing chess.▯