Strategy, intelligence, and the challenge of playing chess with a pigeon
Old joke. Stop me if you've heard this one before. (Technically, you can't stop me. I typed this before you started reading it. Do you have a time machine? If so, go... kill baby Hitler.)
Never play chess with a pigeon. It just flaps its wings, makes a lot of noise, craps all over the board, knocks over the pieces, and then flies back to its friends to tell them about its great victory.
Whether or not you are "smarter" than the pigeon isn't actually relevant. You aren't playing the same game, and if you tell yourself that you are, and behave as though you are, your actions will ultimately be self-defeating and self-humiliating. The pigeon, on the other hand, will have a fine time of things, untroubled by its inability to pass the "mirror test," much less learn the rules of the game or the finer points of why one might prefer the French defense to the Sicilian defense, or the King's Indian to the Nimzo Indian. None of these things matter to the pigeon, nor its pigeon friends. And they won't matter to you, once the board is covered in white goo, disheveled, and left in disregard by a bird that actually does deserve the disparaging title of "bird-brain," unlike the corvid family, which is quite intelligent compared to other animals.
Pigeons suck. And I type that as someone who generally considers himself an "animal lover." Just not pigeons.
I pose, then, the following question. What is the relationship between "intelligence" and "victory?" Did the bird "win?" If so, what does that say about intelligence, or the value of intelligence? The current top chess player in the world is Magnus Carlsen, and while that name may not have the fame of Garry Kasparov, or his rival Anatoly Karpov from the old days, much less Bobby Fischer, I know I wouldn't stand a chance against him.
Would a pigeon? You see, it wouldn't occur to me to flap my arms like an idiot, squawk meaninglessly, crap on the board, knock the pieces over, and storm off as though I had won. That's obviously my problem! The key to victory? Be like a pigeon.
Oh, are you expecting me to talk about politics? OK. Fine. Twist my wing. Squawk!
There's a metaphor here. Someone is a pigeon, with a lot of pigeon friends. Figure it out.
Now, here's a little secret about politics. There are no rules. Whatever rules you think there are? Those aren't really rules. Rules only exist as long as the players and audience collectively abide by them. In the pigeon-chess metaphor, the defecating pigeon gets to declare victory to its friends and that's the audience. So it is, so it goes. Whatever you think of the course of the game is irrelevant. The "Goodfeathers" just declared you a "loser." The audience as participant.
That concept is essentially E.E. Schattschneider's conception of democracy in A Semisovereign People, and it is a useful metaphor. The audience is a participant in the conflict, and in a democracy, they're kind of how conflict is decided. And rules? It doesn't really matter what the rules of the game say, or who has the capacity to pass a mirror test, or anything like that. If the audience declares the pigeon the victor, and the "smart" one, the pigeon is the victor, and all of your detailed studies of the Queen's Gambit in preparation for the King's Indian, Nimzo Indian, and every other variation are for nought. And if the board is yours, have fun cleaning the mess!
Now, I'm not going to make the case that a pigeon is the greatest chess player in the world. The world is a dangerous place, and while I am not an expert on ecology, there's gotta be something disgusting enough to eat a damned, filthy pigeon, and if all else fails, there are traps and other less-humane approaches to playing "chess" with a pigeon. That does, however, require recognizing that one is not, actually, playing chess. Otherwise, you leave it to a bunch of chattering disease bags to decide the match as audience-participants, in the tradition of E.E. Schattschneider.
The audience decides. And if they're pigeons too, well, that's what you need to understand about rules, strategy, and even the notion that "intelligence" has anything to do with success.
H.L. Mencken's famous quote is that "Democracy is the art of running the circus from the monkey cage," from which the most prominent political science blog derives its title: The Monkey Cage.
I'm not sure The Washington Post thought that through when they adopted the blog however many years ago. It's a really douche-y, elitist title, contemptuous of the vast majority of the potential audience, once decoded. Maybe they just never thought about it. It's a Mencken quote!
Anyway, whether you prefer the monkey analogy or the pigeon analogy, I suppose, depends on how much you want to denigrate any particular actor. Monkeys, even though they are less intelligent than the "great apes," have problem-solving abilities, the capacity for empathy, and many other interesting traits. Pigeons just suck.
So the next time you look at a political actor and think, but you're breaking the rules and acting stupidly, remember: that's just a pigeon, crapping on the chess board, and if the audience-participants are pigeons too, you already lost the game.
Never play chess with a pigeon. It just flaps its wings, makes a lot of noise, craps all over the board, knocks over the pieces, and then flies back to its friends to tell them about its great victory.
Whether or not you are "smarter" than the pigeon isn't actually relevant. You aren't playing the same game, and if you tell yourself that you are, and behave as though you are, your actions will ultimately be self-defeating and self-humiliating. The pigeon, on the other hand, will have a fine time of things, untroubled by its inability to pass the "mirror test," much less learn the rules of the game or the finer points of why one might prefer the French defense to the Sicilian defense, or the King's Indian to the Nimzo Indian. None of these things matter to the pigeon, nor its pigeon friends. And they won't matter to you, once the board is covered in white goo, disheveled, and left in disregard by a bird that actually does deserve the disparaging title of "bird-brain," unlike the corvid family, which is quite intelligent compared to other animals.
Pigeons suck. And I type that as someone who generally considers himself an "animal lover." Just not pigeons.
I pose, then, the following question. What is the relationship between "intelligence" and "victory?" Did the bird "win?" If so, what does that say about intelligence, or the value of intelligence? The current top chess player in the world is Magnus Carlsen, and while that name may not have the fame of Garry Kasparov, or his rival Anatoly Karpov from the old days, much less Bobby Fischer, I know I wouldn't stand a chance against him.
Would a pigeon? You see, it wouldn't occur to me to flap my arms like an idiot, squawk meaninglessly, crap on the board, knock the pieces over, and storm off as though I had won. That's obviously my problem! The key to victory? Be like a pigeon.
Oh, are you expecting me to talk about politics? OK. Fine. Twist my wing. Squawk!
There's a metaphor here. Someone is a pigeon, with a lot of pigeon friends. Figure it out.
Now, here's a little secret about politics. There are no rules. Whatever rules you think there are? Those aren't really rules. Rules only exist as long as the players and audience collectively abide by them. In the pigeon-chess metaphor, the defecating pigeon gets to declare victory to its friends and that's the audience. So it is, so it goes. Whatever you think of the course of the game is irrelevant. The "Goodfeathers" just declared you a "loser." The audience as participant.
That concept is essentially E.E. Schattschneider's conception of democracy in A Semisovereign People, and it is a useful metaphor. The audience is a participant in the conflict, and in a democracy, they're kind of how conflict is decided. And rules? It doesn't really matter what the rules of the game say, or who has the capacity to pass a mirror test, or anything like that. If the audience declares the pigeon the victor, and the "smart" one, the pigeon is the victor, and all of your detailed studies of the Queen's Gambit in preparation for the King's Indian, Nimzo Indian, and every other variation are for nought. And if the board is yours, have fun cleaning the mess!
Now, I'm not going to make the case that a pigeon is the greatest chess player in the world. The world is a dangerous place, and while I am not an expert on ecology, there's gotta be something disgusting enough to eat a damned, filthy pigeon, and if all else fails, there are traps and other less-humane approaches to playing "chess" with a pigeon. That does, however, require recognizing that one is not, actually, playing chess. Otherwise, you leave it to a bunch of chattering disease bags to decide the match as audience-participants, in the tradition of E.E. Schattschneider.
The audience decides. And if they're pigeons too, well, that's what you need to understand about rules, strategy, and even the notion that "intelligence" has anything to do with success.
H.L. Mencken's famous quote is that "Democracy is the art of running the circus from the monkey cage," from which the most prominent political science blog derives its title: The Monkey Cage.
I'm not sure The Washington Post thought that through when they adopted the blog however many years ago. It's a really douche-y, elitist title, contemptuous of the vast majority of the potential audience, once decoded. Maybe they just never thought about it. It's a Mencken quote!
Anyway, whether you prefer the monkey analogy or the pigeon analogy, I suppose, depends on how much you want to denigrate any particular actor. Monkeys, even though they are less intelligent than the "great apes," have problem-solving abilities, the capacity for empathy, and many other interesting traits. Pigeons just suck.
So the next time you look at a political actor and think, but you're breaking the rules and acting stupidly, remember: that's just a pigeon, crapping on the chess board, and if the audience-participants are pigeons too, you already lost the game.
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