Yale 250. This shouldn't be hard. And yet...
Posted: Wed Nov 10, 2010 9:22 pm
For some reason, I cannot think of a topic upon which to write when it comes to the Yale 250 word essay. I wrote this in a fit of frustration. It isn't the best thing I have ever written, but it is something, anyway. Let me know if you guys think it is worth working this one over or whether I should just start from scratch.
(Note: I haven't really edited this one yet, since I don't feel like putting more work into it than necessary if it sounds inane. Having written too many of these which did sound inane over the last few days, they are all starting to seem absurd to me. If anyone disagrees regarding this particular one, I will spend time making it better. At the moment I just need general feedback. And sleep. And maybe a psychiatrist.)
The popularity of chess has always been mercurial; the dignity of chess, however, has only recently come under attack, as computers supposedly threaten the very usefulness of the game.
It is true that computers are already on par with the best players in the world. Whereas even a child prodigy must devote years to becoming truly great, it now takes only a group of programmers to create a machine capable of challenging world champions. But claiming this is the end of chess is tantamount to claiming that the Olympics are meaningless because machines can lift more, move faster and fly higher than humans. Chess is a contest and also a struggle. Computers might be able to win the contest, but they cannot struggle, anymore than a forklift or a racecar can.
Vladimir Kramnik, one of the great chess players of all time, once failed to see a mate-in-one-move that allowed his opponent—ironically, a computer—to win a highly publicized game. Yet that very blunder speaks not to the irrelevance of chess in the age of computers, but to the necessity of chess in such an age. It is Kramnik’s humanity that reminds us: prodigy and perfection are not equivalent. When Kramnik defeated the very same computer in the previous game, it was all the more spectacular because he was very capable of not defeating it. As long as this needs remembering, chess will have a place among mankind’s artful pursuits.
(Note: I haven't really edited this one yet, since I don't feel like putting more work into it than necessary if it sounds inane. Having written too many of these which did sound inane over the last few days, they are all starting to seem absurd to me. If anyone disagrees regarding this particular one, I will spend time making it better. At the moment I just need general feedback. And sleep. And maybe a psychiatrist.)
The popularity of chess has always been mercurial; the dignity of chess, however, has only recently come under attack, as computers supposedly threaten the very usefulness of the game.
It is true that computers are already on par with the best players in the world. Whereas even a child prodigy must devote years to becoming truly great, it now takes only a group of programmers to create a machine capable of challenging world champions. But claiming this is the end of chess is tantamount to claiming that the Olympics are meaningless because machines can lift more, move faster and fly higher than humans. Chess is a contest and also a struggle. Computers might be able to win the contest, but they cannot struggle, anymore than a forklift or a racecar can.
Vladimir Kramnik, one of the great chess players of all time, once failed to see a mate-in-one-move that allowed his opponent—ironically, a computer—to win a highly publicized game. Yet that very blunder speaks not to the irrelevance of chess in the age of computers, but to the necessity of chess in such an age. It is Kramnik’s humanity that reminds us: prodigy and perfection are not equivalent. When Kramnik defeated the very same computer in the previous game, it was all the more spectacular because he was very capable of not defeating it. As long as this needs remembering, chess will have a place among mankind’s artful pursuits.
