Chessbase.com has recently published two articles containing decades-old videos of Bobby Fischer analyzing chess games and talking about great chess players like Paul Morphy, Wilhelm Steinitz and Jose Raul Capablanca:
Rare video – Bobby Fischer analyses
Rare video of Bobby Fischer analyzing – (2)
At around the eight minute mark of the second video in the second post, FM Dimitrije Bjelica asks Fischer why Paul Morphy stopped playing competitive chess; this is a fascinating exchange, because Fischer--like Morphy before him--quit playing serious chess at the height of his powers and it seems likely that both great geniuses suffered from serious mental illness (Dr. Joseph Ponterotto's take on Fischer's brilliant yet tortured mind can be found here). This is Fischer's reply to Bjelica's question:
I don't know. He got fed up with the whole chess scene, you know. He could not get this match [to prove that he was the world's best player]. He thought that they were petty people. He thought that these people were not honorable...Just the people in chess, he felt that they were not honorable people. He did not like the type of people he met, I think. For example, Staunton refused to play him and Staunton did some dishonest things in their negotiations for a match: he did everything to avoid playing him, because he would have lost easily. He [Staunton] refused to admit this and he tried to make it appear that Morphy didn't want to play or something.
Only a few years after that interview, Fischer cut short his own chess career for similar reasons, forfeiting his World Champion title because FIDE would not agree to all of Fischer's terms regarding his scheduled title defense against Anatoly Karpov. Fischer had very rigid--but well thought out--ideas about exactly how such a match should be conducted and he refused to compromise or change anything in his proposal. Being a perfectionist and wanting everything to be just right seems like a noble ideal but tightly clinging to such hopes/dreams in this most imperfect world can lead to a lot of self-inflicted suffering. Neither Morphy nor Fischer possessed the ability to accept the world the way it is and to function within the confines of how society is organized. In contrast, Garry Kasparov--who, like Morphy and Fischer--is a genius of the highest magnitude, has the most enviable capacity to recognize his own weaknesses and to focus on the art of the possible as opposed to obsessing over creating perfection. Kasparov feuded with FIDE much like Fischer did but Kasparov did not let the fools, the criminals and the dishonorable people chase him away from the sport that he loves. It is very tragic that Morphy and Fischer did not possess such rare inner resolve, strength and tenacity; it is very difficult to be a sensitive genius in an insensitive world--and it is eerie to listen to Fischer calmly speak about Morphy's plight just a few years before Fischer descended into his notorious period of self-imposed exile from the chess world.
Showing posts with label Paul Morphy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paul Morphy. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Dr. Joseph Ponterotto's Psychobiography of Bobby Fischer Provides a Balanced and Sensitive Look at a Tormented Genius
Dr. Joseph Ponterotto is a psychologist, a professor and the Coordinator of the Counseling Psychology Program at Fordham University's Graduate School of Education. His book A Psychobiography of Bobby Fischer attempts to explain the psychological underpinnings of both Fischer's brilliant rise to the top of the chess world and of Fischer's sad descent into the seclusion and paranoia that characterized his "wilderness years," the tragic denouement that began soon after Fischer won the World Chess Championship in 1972 and did not end until his death in 2008.
A Psychobiography of Bobby Fischer provides a detailed, well-researched analysis of Fischer's genius and of his mental illness while also offering suggestions for parents, teachers, guidance counselors and friends who are interacting with a highly gifted but deeply troubled person. Here is Dr. Ponterotto's definition of psychobiography (pp. 4-5): "More than a biographical sketch of 'who' a person was and 'what' the person accomplished in their particular field, psychobiography concerns itself with the 'why' of a person's behavior. What was the inner life, the psychology that drove the person to his or her thoughts, feelings and actions? What were the underlying mechanisms that made the person tick?" Dr. Ponterotto combines evidence from a variety of sources in order to place Fischer's thoughts and actions in the proper context and he repeatedly emphasizes that his conclusions must be considered provisional and tentative because he never met Fischer, let alone had the opportunity to treat him.
Dr. Ponterotto wisely rejects applying just one theoretical model to Fischer's life, noting that Dr. Reuben Fine's published analysis of Fischer is of limited value because it focuses exclusively on a Freudian interpretation without seriously considering any other explanations and/or theoretical models. One of the theoretical models that Dr. Ponterotto uses is the diathesis stress model, which suggests that mental illness develops in an individual due to a complex interaction between multiple genetic and environmental factors: in this model, genetics play a large role in determining how much stress a person can handle but even a person with a low threshold may escape the throes of mental illness if he has a strong enough support system around him to reduce his stressors to a manageable level. Dr. Ponterotto uses several other theoretical models to evaluate Fischer, including psychodynamic theory (focusing on the impact of early childhood experiences), family systems theory (examining the impact of family relationships), psychosocial development theory (evaluating a person's ability to perform "critical tasks over the life span") and multi-cultural theory (placing a person's life in the proper cultural and socioeconomic context).
The first several chapters of the book provide background information about chess, about Bobby Fischer's family history and about the methodologies of psychobiography. Dr. Ponterotto begins his psychological autopsy of Bobby Fischer with this statement (p. 87): "I believe Bobby had some genetic vulnerability to develop a mental illness, and that this predisposition in concert with early life trauma and the burden of relentless media pressure, coalesced into serious mental health concerns that called for early and ongoing psychological intervention." Even people who are very knowledgeable about chess in general and Bobby Fischer in particular may not realize how much evidence there is that several of Fischer's closest relatives suffered from some form of mental illness: his maternal grandmother spent the final three years of her life in a psychiatric hospital, his presumed biological father Paul Nemenyi displayed behavior that was, at the very least, extremely eccentric and his presumed half-brother Peter Nemenyi committed suicide; mental illness is most likely linked to both genetic and environmental factors--the classic "nature" versus "nurture" debate is applicable both to Fischer's prodigious abilities and to his mental illness--and there is good reason to believe that Fischer not only had a genetic predisposition to mental illness but that in his formative years he interacted with a mother who had psychological problems: the 900-plus page FBI file on Regina Fischer paints a very negative picture of her mental health, though Dr. Ponterotto--after interviewing several people who knew her personally--believes that FBI attitudes during the Cold War era were biased against her because of her Jewish background and presumed Communist sympathies. The Chicago Municipal Psychiatric Institute diagnosed Regina Fischer as having a "stilted (paranoid) personality, querulent [sic] but not psychotic." Dr. Ponterotto notes that this terminology would be considered "outdated" today but would perhaps be equivalent to what is now called Paranoid Personality Disorder; he emphasizes that she had good reason to feel suspicious--she was under active FBI surveillance for many years--and that there is no way to confirm whether or not the CMPI diagnosis was accurate. Various research studies estimate the heritability of the PPD trait to range from 21% to 66%, so if Regina suffered from PPD she may have passed along to Bobby a predisposition to develop the problem as well. Bobby's half-sister Joan showed no signs of mental illness but she likely had a different father and thus a different overall genetic makeup.
Bobby Fischer's early home life was very stressful. No father figure was present because Regina divorced Gerhardt Fischer--the father of Bobby's half-sister Joan--and she did not get along with Paul Nemenyi, who openly expressed concerns about Regina's fitness to raise Bobby and Joan. The Fischers moved at least 10 times before Bobby turned six years old. Bobby Fischer was expelled from school at age six for kicking his principal and he attended several schools before dropping out of Erasmus Hall High School at age 16 not long after attaining the Grandmaster title.
Fischer described his chess philosophy simply--"I am always on the attack"--but he unfortunately applied that same mindset in his personal life; it is well known that Fischer pushed away just about every family member and friend who ever became close with him, believing that each of those people had somehow betrayed him. This pattern began very early in Fischer's life; Fischer's mother took him to play chess with Dr. Reuben Fine, a world class player who was also an eminent psychiatrist, but when--after a few playing sessions--Dr. Fine asked Fischer about school Fischer furiously replied, "You have tricked me" and he refused to visit Dr. Fine again. Fischer remained angry at Dr. Fine for many years, Dr. Fine recalled, "as if I had done him some immeasurable harm by trying to get a little closer to him."
Dr. Ponterotto disagrees with those who suggest that Fischer suffered from Asperger's Syndrome; while Fischer displayed some personality traits that fit that diagnosis, those traits are also consistent with PPD--and Dr. Ponterotto concludes that Fischer had six of the seven traits that characterize PPD, including "suspects, without sufficient basis, that others are exploiting, harming or deceiving him" and "persistently bears grudges, i.e., is unforgiving of insults, injuries or slights." Dr. Ponterotto also says that Fischer "manifested non-bizarre delusions"; Fischer was not Schizophrenic--he was not hearing colors or experiencing other "bizarre" delusions--but he showed signs of Delusional Disorder, Persecutory Type, which is characterized by "...the person's belief that he or she is being conspired against, cheated, spied on, followed, poisoned or drugged, maliciously maligned, harassed, or obstructed in pursuit of long-term goals. Small slights may be exaggerated and become the focus of a delusional system."
Dr. Ponterotto believes that the early and intense onset of fame worsened Fischer's problems because, in the words of psychobiographer William Todd Schulz (p.98), "...some people are simply temperamentally unsuited to be famous. Their talent merits fame, but their personalities don't stand up to it." It would not be correct to say that chess made Fischer ill and, indeed, Dr. Ponterotto suggests that chess provided some balance for Fischer (p.99): "Perhaps chess was an anchor for his sanity and functioning, and without that anchor he was now more psychologically vulnerable than ever. Bobby's chess identity had fused with his personal identity, and when he abandoned competitive chess and thus his chess identity, he was lost."
A key point about Delusional Disorder is that someone who suffers from this illness can appear quite normal when he is talking about anything other than what Dr. Ponterotto calls the "delusional theme." Fischer's biographer Frank Brady told me that Fischer almost seemed to suffer from "Tourette's Syndrome" concerning Jews: once that subject came up Fischer would not talk about anything else but if one steered clear of that subject it was possible to have a nice, normal conversation with him.
Bobby Fischer's life eerily resembles the life of Paul Morphy (1837-1884), the first great American chess player; Dr. Ponterotto devotes an entire chapter to comparing Morphy's story to Fischer's--and the similarities, both positive and negative, are breathtaking: both men rapidly rose to the top of the chess world before quitting the game at the height of their powers and thereafter showing signs of significant mental illness. While Fischer's paranoia focused on what he believed to be a Jewish conspiracy against him, Morphy convinced himself that various people were trying to drive him out of New Orleans. Morphy even challenged one of these people to a duel. Like Fischer, Morphy was able to conduct a reasonable conversation on any subject other than the alleged conspiracy against him. Morphy's mother, brother and best friend tried to convince him to seek help at a mental institution but Morphy refused to go. Dr. Ponterotto concludes (p. 130), "The life stories of Fischer and Morphy are both fascinating and sad. In the end these men died virtually alone with no offspring to speak their legacy. Yet their influence and impact on the game of chess was so significant that their games will likely live on, worldwide, for as long as humans walk this earth. Despite their challenges and psychological struggles, let us honor their memory and legacy."
The fact that mental illness greatly impacted the careers--and lives--of the two greatest chess geniuses in American history is both tragic and cautionary. What, if anything, could have been done to help Paul Morphy and Bobby Fischer? What can be done to make sure that the next great chess genius--or scientific genius or writing genius or any other kind of genius--does not suffer the way that Morphy and Fischer did? We can not afford to squander the prodigious talents of our greatest geniuses if our species is going to have any chance to overcome the formidable challenges cited in Harold T.P. Hayes' Three Levels of Time.
Dr. Ponterotto asks, "Does research support a relationship between creativity and mental illness?" Dr. Ponterotto notes a study that shows that the rate of mental illness is higher among creative writers than among a matched control group; neurological research has provided a possible explanation for this: certain genes and neurotransmitters that are connected with increased creativity also appear to be linked to a higher risk of developing certain forms of mental illness. Perhaps the kind of divergent thinking involved in creating great works of art and science is somehow connected to the bizarrely divergent thinking that leads to delusions and paranoia; a healthy, balanced genius may be able to regulate the stream of thoughts storming through his mind but a genius who is under stress or whose biochemistry is not quite so finely tuned may become unable to distinguish between brilliant innovation and paranoid delusion. Instead of continuing his own chess career and producing brilliant games, Fischer convinced himself that it was more important to prove that every move in several World Chess Championship matches had been choreographed to produce the desired results; he was ill and he was wrong but he knew that he was smarter than just about anyone else on the planet so who was going to talk him out of his delusions?
Dr. Ponterotto makes it clear that the research into how brain chemistry works is only just beginning and cause/effect relationships cannot yet be proven. Genius does not cause madness, nor are most mentally ill people highly creative. While there are many well known cases of chess geniuses who succumbed to mental illness, there has not yet been a long term study of chess players to determine if mental illness rates are higher in that group than in the population at large.
Dr. Ponterotto cautions that his diagnosis of Fischer is tentative and his hypothetical treatment recommendations--"long-term individual psychotherapy, family therapy, special support services throughout his schooling and possibly psychotropic medication"--are purely speculative but he believes that the right kind of intervention could have helped Fischer both personally and professionally (p. 151): "Clearly, Bobby Fischer, who basically withdrew from competition at the age of 29 (save for his 1992 comeback match against Spassky), had many years of chess ahead of him had he maintained his psychological health and competitive interests."
For far too long, many people have wrongly assumed that gifted and talented children can fend for themselves and that educational and psychological resources should be focused on helping children who are average or below average academically. The reality is that gifted and talented children need the right kind of nurturing at home and at school in order to reach their full potential personally and professionally. Anyone who thought that the young Fischer should be left to his own devices because treatment and guidance would possibly hinder the development of his chess gifts did Fischer--and the world--a great disservice. Fischer needed help to overcome the unique mixture of genetics and environment that fueled his paranoid and delusional tendencies and without that help he eventually lost the ability to be a functional member of society; Fischer suffered in solitude but the tragic "wilderness years" represent a major loss to human culture in terms of all the brilliant games he never played and all the great books he never wrote because his amazing mind was torn asunder by mental illness.
Further Reading:
A Psychological Autopsy of Bobby Fischer
Interview With Dr. Frank Brady, Author of Endgame: Bobby Fischer's Remarkable Rise and Fall--From America's Brightest Prodigy to the Edge of Madness
Brady Biography Paints Nuanced Portrait of Enigmatic Chess Champion Bobby Fischer
Bobby Fischer Against the World Details the Triumphs and Tragedies of a Great Champion
Harry Benson's Book Includes Striking Photos of World Chess Champion Bobby Fischer
More Insight into Bobby Fischer's Brilliant yet Tortured Mind
Bobby Fischer Comes Home is a Beautiful Portrait of Genuine Friendship
A Psychobiography of Bobby Fischer provides a detailed, well-researched analysis of Fischer's genius and of his mental illness while also offering suggestions for parents, teachers, guidance counselors and friends who are interacting with a highly gifted but deeply troubled person. Here is Dr. Ponterotto's definition of psychobiography (pp. 4-5): "More than a biographical sketch of 'who' a person was and 'what' the person accomplished in their particular field, psychobiography concerns itself with the 'why' of a person's behavior. What was the inner life, the psychology that drove the person to his or her thoughts, feelings and actions? What were the underlying mechanisms that made the person tick?" Dr. Ponterotto combines evidence from a variety of sources in order to place Fischer's thoughts and actions in the proper context and he repeatedly emphasizes that his conclusions must be considered provisional and tentative because he never met Fischer, let alone had the opportunity to treat him.
Dr. Ponterotto wisely rejects applying just one theoretical model to Fischer's life, noting that Dr. Reuben Fine's published analysis of Fischer is of limited value because it focuses exclusively on a Freudian interpretation without seriously considering any other explanations and/or theoretical models. One of the theoretical models that Dr. Ponterotto uses is the diathesis stress model, which suggests that mental illness develops in an individual due to a complex interaction between multiple genetic and environmental factors: in this model, genetics play a large role in determining how much stress a person can handle but even a person with a low threshold may escape the throes of mental illness if he has a strong enough support system around him to reduce his stressors to a manageable level. Dr. Ponterotto uses several other theoretical models to evaluate Fischer, including psychodynamic theory (focusing on the impact of early childhood experiences), family systems theory (examining the impact of family relationships), psychosocial development theory (evaluating a person's ability to perform "critical tasks over the life span") and multi-cultural theory (placing a person's life in the proper cultural and socioeconomic context).
The first several chapters of the book provide background information about chess, about Bobby Fischer's family history and about the methodologies of psychobiography. Dr. Ponterotto begins his psychological autopsy of Bobby Fischer with this statement (p. 87): "I believe Bobby had some genetic vulnerability to develop a mental illness, and that this predisposition in concert with early life trauma and the burden of relentless media pressure, coalesced into serious mental health concerns that called for early and ongoing psychological intervention." Even people who are very knowledgeable about chess in general and Bobby Fischer in particular may not realize how much evidence there is that several of Fischer's closest relatives suffered from some form of mental illness: his maternal grandmother spent the final three years of her life in a psychiatric hospital, his presumed biological father Paul Nemenyi displayed behavior that was, at the very least, extremely eccentric and his presumed half-brother Peter Nemenyi committed suicide; mental illness is most likely linked to both genetic and environmental factors--the classic "nature" versus "nurture" debate is applicable both to Fischer's prodigious abilities and to his mental illness--and there is good reason to believe that Fischer not only had a genetic predisposition to mental illness but that in his formative years he interacted with a mother who had psychological problems: the 900-plus page FBI file on Regina Fischer paints a very negative picture of her mental health, though Dr. Ponterotto--after interviewing several people who knew her personally--believes that FBI attitudes during the Cold War era were biased against her because of her Jewish background and presumed Communist sympathies. The Chicago Municipal Psychiatric Institute diagnosed Regina Fischer as having a "stilted (paranoid) personality, querulent [sic] but not psychotic." Dr. Ponterotto notes that this terminology would be considered "outdated" today but would perhaps be equivalent to what is now called Paranoid Personality Disorder; he emphasizes that she had good reason to feel suspicious--she was under active FBI surveillance for many years--and that there is no way to confirm whether or not the CMPI diagnosis was accurate. Various research studies estimate the heritability of the PPD trait to range from 21% to 66%, so if Regina suffered from PPD she may have passed along to Bobby a predisposition to develop the problem as well. Bobby's half-sister Joan showed no signs of mental illness but she likely had a different father and thus a different overall genetic makeup.
Bobby Fischer's early home life was very stressful. No father figure was present because Regina divorced Gerhardt Fischer--the father of Bobby's half-sister Joan--and she did not get along with Paul Nemenyi, who openly expressed concerns about Regina's fitness to raise Bobby and Joan. The Fischers moved at least 10 times before Bobby turned six years old. Bobby Fischer was expelled from school at age six for kicking his principal and he attended several schools before dropping out of Erasmus Hall High School at age 16 not long after attaining the Grandmaster title.
Fischer described his chess philosophy simply--"I am always on the attack"--but he unfortunately applied that same mindset in his personal life; it is well known that Fischer pushed away just about every family member and friend who ever became close with him, believing that each of those people had somehow betrayed him. This pattern began very early in Fischer's life; Fischer's mother took him to play chess with Dr. Reuben Fine, a world class player who was also an eminent psychiatrist, but when--after a few playing sessions--Dr. Fine asked Fischer about school Fischer furiously replied, "You have tricked me" and he refused to visit Dr. Fine again. Fischer remained angry at Dr. Fine for many years, Dr. Fine recalled, "as if I had done him some immeasurable harm by trying to get a little closer to him."
Dr. Ponterotto disagrees with those who suggest that Fischer suffered from Asperger's Syndrome; while Fischer displayed some personality traits that fit that diagnosis, those traits are also consistent with PPD--and Dr. Ponterotto concludes that Fischer had six of the seven traits that characterize PPD, including "suspects, without sufficient basis, that others are exploiting, harming or deceiving him" and "persistently bears grudges, i.e., is unforgiving of insults, injuries or slights." Dr. Ponterotto also says that Fischer "manifested non-bizarre delusions"; Fischer was not Schizophrenic--he was not hearing colors or experiencing other "bizarre" delusions--but he showed signs of Delusional Disorder, Persecutory Type, which is characterized by "...the person's belief that he or she is being conspired against, cheated, spied on, followed, poisoned or drugged, maliciously maligned, harassed, or obstructed in pursuit of long-term goals. Small slights may be exaggerated and become the focus of a delusional system."
Dr. Ponterotto believes that the early and intense onset of fame worsened Fischer's problems because, in the words of psychobiographer William Todd Schulz (p.98), "...some people are simply temperamentally unsuited to be famous. Their talent merits fame, but their personalities don't stand up to it." It would not be correct to say that chess made Fischer ill and, indeed, Dr. Ponterotto suggests that chess provided some balance for Fischer (p.99): "Perhaps chess was an anchor for his sanity and functioning, and without that anchor he was now more psychologically vulnerable than ever. Bobby's chess identity had fused with his personal identity, and when he abandoned competitive chess and thus his chess identity, he was lost."
A key point about Delusional Disorder is that someone who suffers from this illness can appear quite normal when he is talking about anything other than what Dr. Ponterotto calls the "delusional theme." Fischer's biographer Frank Brady told me that Fischer almost seemed to suffer from "Tourette's Syndrome" concerning Jews: once that subject came up Fischer would not talk about anything else but if one steered clear of that subject it was possible to have a nice, normal conversation with him.
Bobby Fischer's life eerily resembles the life of Paul Morphy (1837-1884), the first great American chess player; Dr. Ponterotto devotes an entire chapter to comparing Morphy's story to Fischer's--and the similarities, both positive and negative, are breathtaking: both men rapidly rose to the top of the chess world before quitting the game at the height of their powers and thereafter showing signs of significant mental illness. While Fischer's paranoia focused on what he believed to be a Jewish conspiracy against him, Morphy convinced himself that various people were trying to drive him out of New Orleans. Morphy even challenged one of these people to a duel. Like Fischer, Morphy was able to conduct a reasonable conversation on any subject other than the alleged conspiracy against him. Morphy's mother, brother and best friend tried to convince him to seek help at a mental institution but Morphy refused to go. Dr. Ponterotto concludes (p. 130), "The life stories of Fischer and Morphy are both fascinating and sad. In the end these men died virtually alone with no offspring to speak their legacy. Yet their influence and impact on the game of chess was so significant that their games will likely live on, worldwide, for as long as humans walk this earth. Despite their challenges and psychological struggles, let us honor their memory and legacy."
The fact that mental illness greatly impacted the careers--and lives--of the two greatest chess geniuses in American history is both tragic and cautionary. What, if anything, could have been done to help Paul Morphy and Bobby Fischer? What can be done to make sure that the next great chess genius--or scientific genius or writing genius or any other kind of genius--does not suffer the way that Morphy and Fischer did? We can not afford to squander the prodigious talents of our greatest geniuses if our species is going to have any chance to overcome the formidable challenges cited in Harold T.P. Hayes' Three Levels of Time.
Dr. Ponterotto asks, "Does research support a relationship between creativity and mental illness?" Dr. Ponterotto notes a study that shows that the rate of mental illness is higher among creative writers than among a matched control group; neurological research has provided a possible explanation for this: certain genes and neurotransmitters that are connected with increased creativity also appear to be linked to a higher risk of developing certain forms of mental illness. Perhaps the kind of divergent thinking involved in creating great works of art and science is somehow connected to the bizarrely divergent thinking that leads to delusions and paranoia; a healthy, balanced genius may be able to regulate the stream of thoughts storming through his mind but a genius who is under stress or whose biochemistry is not quite so finely tuned may become unable to distinguish between brilliant innovation and paranoid delusion. Instead of continuing his own chess career and producing brilliant games, Fischer convinced himself that it was more important to prove that every move in several World Chess Championship matches had been choreographed to produce the desired results; he was ill and he was wrong but he knew that he was smarter than just about anyone else on the planet so who was going to talk him out of his delusions?
Dr. Ponterotto makes it clear that the research into how brain chemistry works is only just beginning and cause/effect relationships cannot yet be proven. Genius does not cause madness, nor are most mentally ill people highly creative. While there are many well known cases of chess geniuses who succumbed to mental illness, there has not yet been a long term study of chess players to determine if mental illness rates are higher in that group than in the population at large.
Dr. Ponterotto cautions that his diagnosis of Fischer is tentative and his hypothetical treatment recommendations--"long-term individual psychotherapy, family therapy, special support services throughout his schooling and possibly psychotropic medication"--are purely speculative but he believes that the right kind of intervention could have helped Fischer both personally and professionally (p. 151): "Clearly, Bobby Fischer, who basically withdrew from competition at the age of 29 (save for his 1992 comeback match against Spassky), had many years of chess ahead of him had he maintained his psychological health and competitive interests."
For far too long, many people have wrongly assumed that gifted and talented children can fend for themselves and that educational and psychological resources should be focused on helping children who are average or below average academically. The reality is that gifted and talented children need the right kind of nurturing at home and at school in order to reach their full potential personally and professionally. Anyone who thought that the young Fischer should be left to his own devices because treatment and guidance would possibly hinder the development of his chess gifts did Fischer--and the world--a great disservice. Fischer needed help to overcome the unique mixture of genetics and environment that fueled his paranoid and delusional tendencies and without that help he eventually lost the ability to be a functional member of society; Fischer suffered in solitude but the tragic "wilderness years" represent a major loss to human culture in terms of all the brilliant games he never played and all the great books he never wrote because his amazing mind was torn asunder by mental illness.
Further Reading:
A Psychological Autopsy of Bobby Fischer
Interview With Dr. Frank Brady, Author of Endgame: Bobby Fischer's Remarkable Rise and Fall--From America's Brightest Prodigy to the Edge of Madness
Brady Biography Paints Nuanced Portrait of Enigmatic Chess Champion Bobby Fischer
Bobby Fischer Against the World Details the Triumphs and Tragedies of a Great Champion
Harry Benson's Book Includes Striking Photos of World Chess Champion Bobby Fischer
More Insight into Bobby Fischer's Brilliant yet Tortured Mind
Bobby Fischer Comes Home is a Beautiful Portrait of Genuine Friendship
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Bobby Fischer Comes Home is a Beautiful Portrait of Genuine Friendship
The term "friend" has in many ways lost any real meaning now that it is possible to "friend" someone who you have never met and may barely even know. A true friend cherishes your positive qualities and loves you in spite of your negative traits; such a friend never stops trying to help you become a better person but does not abandon you if you have a setback in that quest. By his own admission, Bobby Fischer was a "difficult" person to befriend--but Grandmaster Helgi Olafsson made the effort to do so and he provided some measure of comfort to Fischer in the last stage of the great champion's life. Olafsson's book Bobby Fischer Comes Home: The Final Years in Iceland, a Saga of Friendship and Lost Illusion is a 143 page paean to the value of friendship, for without the intervention of Olafsson and the other members of the RJF Committee (the initials first stood for Robert J. Fischer but then took the double meaning "Rights, Justice, Freedom" after the group took up other causes as well) Fischer may have spent the last years of his life in prison.
In 1972, Reykjavik, Iceland was the site of Fischer's greatest triumph when he broke the Soviet monopoly on the World Chess Championship with a 12.5-8.5 victory over Boris Spassky; the margin would have been even more lopsided if Fischer had not lost the first game after making a speculative sacrifice in a drawish position and if Fischer had not forfeited the second game without showing up at all because of a dispute over playing conditions. Olafsson was a teenager when his homeland hosted that famous match and he saw several of the games in person; he recalls that a friend's father told him, "One day you might play Fischer or Petrosian [Spassky's predecessor as World Champion]!" Fischer never defended his title, retreating into a paranoia-fueled seclusion, but he emerged in 1992 to play a rematch against Spassky; unfortunately, the event was held in Sveti Stefan--violating a U.N. embargo against war-torn Yugoslavia--and the United States government issued a warrant for Fischer's arrest. Fischer lived as a fugitive for more than a decade until Japanese authorities detained him on July 13, 2004; the Japanese refused to either set him free or turn him over to U.S. authorities and the impasse lasted until Iceland--acting in response to the urgings of the RJF Committee--granted Fischer citizenship and agreed to give him asylum. Iceland received some criticism for helping Fischer, but--in an email reprinted in Bobby Fischer Comes Home--Olafsson explains why he acted on Fischer's behalf:
"There were many good reasons not to lend Bobby Fischer a helping hand whilst in Japan but given the strong possibility that the man was/is seriously ill was reason enough to try to help him. I will never regret that. Personally I make no distinction between, say, a schizo-paranoid, a person with cancer, a brain tumour or any other disease. Everyone should have some basic human rights. Jail was certainly not the correct place for Fischer."
Olafsson does not gloss over Fischer's well known--and quite despicable--anti-Semitism, anti-Americanism and paranoid rants against anyone who displeased him (a group that came to include just about anyone who ever came in contact with Fischer, including his closest family members and dearest friends). In his interactions with the deeply troubled genius, Olafsson alternated between gently challenging Fischer, patiently ignoring Fischer's outbursts until the storm passed and forcefully suggesting a change in topics--but he never abandoned Fischer and he tried to bring out the best in his friend. Olafsson sympathized with Fischer's justified outrage about his stored property being auctioned off but he did not feed Fischer's paranoid view that this action was part of some grand conspiracy. Sometimes, Olafsson just responded with silence when he knew that he could not offer any words of comfort; one such example happened after Fischer reacted to Olafsson humming by declaring, "I think I know your philosophy. It's like in the Monty Python song. Life's a bowl of s--- no matter what you make of it. Look on the bright side of life. Am I right?" Olafsson did not take the bait because he did not perceive that outburst as an insult or a challenge but rather as a symptom of a disease: "I believe that Bobby Fischer was suffering from depression. Taking medication or seeing a psychiatrist was never an option for him. He lay in bed for a good part of the day, a common sign of a depressive mood."
Olafsson describes a Fischer who was demanding, reclusive and self-centered but who was also capable of moments of kindness and tenderness. Fischer's default mode was one of wariness and distrust but when he felt comfortable in a situation he could be a charming and fun companion. Sadly, Fischer's friendship with Olafsson took the same course as most of the relationships in Fischer's life; Fischer blew up at Olafsson over a perceived slight and cut off contact with him. As you read Olafsson's heart-wrenching description of this episode you can feel the pain emanating from the pages. Far from being bitter, Olafsson expresses regret and sadness about how things turned out. A few months after that breach, Fischer died. He suffered a lot in his final days because he refused treatment, not trusting modern medical techniques. His physician, Dr. Eirikur Jonsson, recalls, "At no time did his character leave him...When Bobby Fischer was admitted to Landspitalinn in October of 2007 we realized that this individual intended to fight his disease all by himself. That day in January his fight came to the only possible conclusion. It could not have been any other way. What an incredible fighter. But for me and so many others his death was a very traumatic experience."
Near the end of the book, Olafsson writes, "I thought back to our last conversation, when he had said, 'Don't listen to my negativity, Helgi.' And I thought about his rants, the infamous interviews and his stubborn anti-Semitism. For me they were the expression of a desperate soul. Rather than talking about issues that were seemingly in his heart, I believed that they were expressing his own inner feelings. To me it always seemed that he was just expressing how bad he felt."
Olafsson offers a perceptive take on those notorious internet radio interviews: "Bobby would never acknowledge if he was going through a tough period. Most people who had gone through what he had been through in the nine months he spent in the Japanese detention centre would be in need of counseling. Sometimes he was very bitter, cynical and disillusioned. Nevertheless, after he settled in Iceland I never heard him repeat the wicked things he had said in the radio interviews during his stay in Hungary and Japan. It is a real tragedy how he disgraced himself time and again in those radio interviews.
I told him at our first meeting that such statements were unacceptable. About the 9/11 interview he later simply told me: 'I was tricked.' Bobby was not in a stable condition when Eugenio Torre and the journalists from the Filipino radio station phoned him after the attacks on the Twin Towers. They knew what to expect from him."
In contrast to the despicable, contemptible way that Torre and the others egged Fischer on and brought out the worst in him, Olafsson and other Icelanders attempted to bring out the best in Fischer. Fischer's last radio interview took place in 2006, hosted by Saga Radio's Sigurdur Tomasson; while not entirely free of his bigoted opinions (to put it mildly), this interview also featured Fischer calmly reminiscing about his days as a youngster in the vibrant New York chess scene and he offered his thoughts about various chess champions. Jose Raul Capablanca and Paul Morphy were Fischer's two favorites, while Fischer did not like Alexander Alekhine as much even though he respected Alekhine's strength. "Alekhine had a rather heavy style," Fischer said. "Capablanca was much more brilliant and talented, he had a real light touch...But the thing that was great about Capablanca was that he really spoke his mind, he said what he believed was true, he said what he felt." You don't have to be a psychologist to figure out that Fischer admired Capablanca so much because he considered him a kindred spirit both in terms of talent and outspokenness.
Fischer revolutionized chess with his opening innovations, his peerless endgame technique and his fierce will to win--and the increment-based chess clock that he patented has become standard fare in serious chess tournaments. He accomplished so much despite his serious mental health problems that one cannot help but wonder how much more he could have achieved if he had been able to stabilize his fragile mindset and volatile emotions. It must have taken an extraordinary act of concentrated will for Fischer to become World Chess Champion despite his illness; how many other great minds never become known to the world because their brilliance is trapped within a web of turbulent emotions and fears?
In 1972, Reykjavik, Iceland was the site of Fischer's greatest triumph when he broke the Soviet monopoly on the World Chess Championship with a 12.5-8.5 victory over Boris Spassky; the margin would have been even more lopsided if Fischer had not lost the first game after making a speculative sacrifice in a drawish position and if Fischer had not forfeited the second game without showing up at all because of a dispute over playing conditions. Olafsson was a teenager when his homeland hosted that famous match and he saw several of the games in person; he recalls that a friend's father told him, "One day you might play Fischer or Petrosian [Spassky's predecessor as World Champion]!" Fischer never defended his title, retreating into a paranoia-fueled seclusion, but he emerged in 1992 to play a rematch against Spassky; unfortunately, the event was held in Sveti Stefan--violating a U.N. embargo against war-torn Yugoslavia--and the United States government issued a warrant for Fischer's arrest. Fischer lived as a fugitive for more than a decade until Japanese authorities detained him on July 13, 2004; the Japanese refused to either set him free or turn him over to U.S. authorities and the impasse lasted until Iceland--acting in response to the urgings of the RJF Committee--granted Fischer citizenship and agreed to give him asylum. Iceland received some criticism for helping Fischer, but--in an email reprinted in Bobby Fischer Comes Home--Olafsson explains why he acted on Fischer's behalf:
"There were many good reasons not to lend Bobby Fischer a helping hand whilst in Japan but given the strong possibility that the man was/is seriously ill was reason enough to try to help him. I will never regret that. Personally I make no distinction between, say, a schizo-paranoid, a person with cancer, a brain tumour or any other disease. Everyone should have some basic human rights. Jail was certainly not the correct place for Fischer."
Olafsson does not gloss over Fischer's well known--and quite despicable--anti-Semitism, anti-Americanism and paranoid rants against anyone who displeased him (a group that came to include just about anyone who ever came in contact with Fischer, including his closest family members and dearest friends). In his interactions with the deeply troubled genius, Olafsson alternated between gently challenging Fischer, patiently ignoring Fischer's outbursts until the storm passed and forcefully suggesting a change in topics--but he never abandoned Fischer and he tried to bring out the best in his friend. Olafsson sympathized with Fischer's justified outrage about his stored property being auctioned off but he did not feed Fischer's paranoid view that this action was part of some grand conspiracy. Sometimes, Olafsson just responded with silence when he knew that he could not offer any words of comfort; one such example happened after Fischer reacted to Olafsson humming by declaring, "I think I know your philosophy. It's like in the Monty Python song. Life's a bowl of s--- no matter what you make of it. Look on the bright side of life. Am I right?" Olafsson did not take the bait because he did not perceive that outburst as an insult or a challenge but rather as a symptom of a disease: "I believe that Bobby Fischer was suffering from depression. Taking medication or seeing a psychiatrist was never an option for him. He lay in bed for a good part of the day, a common sign of a depressive mood."
Olafsson describes a Fischer who was demanding, reclusive and self-centered but who was also capable of moments of kindness and tenderness. Fischer's default mode was one of wariness and distrust but when he felt comfortable in a situation he could be a charming and fun companion. Sadly, Fischer's friendship with Olafsson took the same course as most of the relationships in Fischer's life; Fischer blew up at Olafsson over a perceived slight and cut off contact with him. As you read Olafsson's heart-wrenching description of this episode you can feel the pain emanating from the pages. Far from being bitter, Olafsson expresses regret and sadness about how things turned out. A few months after that breach, Fischer died. He suffered a lot in his final days because he refused treatment, not trusting modern medical techniques. His physician, Dr. Eirikur Jonsson, recalls, "At no time did his character leave him...When Bobby Fischer was admitted to Landspitalinn in October of 2007 we realized that this individual intended to fight his disease all by himself. That day in January his fight came to the only possible conclusion. It could not have been any other way. What an incredible fighter. But for me and so many others his death was a very traumatic experience."
Near the end of the book, Olafsson writes, "I thought back to our last conversation, when he had said, 'Don't listen to my negativity, Helgi.' And I thought about his rants, the infamous interviews and his stubborn anti-Semitism. For me they were the expression of a desperate soul. Rather than talking about issues that were seemingly in his heart, I believed that they were expressing his own inner feelings. To me it always seemed that he was just expressing how bad he felt."
Olafsson offers a perceptive take on those notorious internet radio interviews: "Bobby would never acknowledge if he was going through a tough period. Most people who had gone through what he had been through in the nine months he spent in the Japanese detention centre would be in need of counseling. Sometimes he was very bitter, cynical and disillusioned. Nevertheless, after he settled in Iceland I never heard him repeat the wicked things he had said in the radio interviews during his stay in Hungary and Japan. It is a real tragedy how he disgraced himself time and again in those radio interviews.
I told him at our first meeting that such statements were unacceptable. About the 9/11 interview he later simply told me: 'I was tricked.' Bobby was not in a stable condition when Eugenio Torre and the journalists from the Filipino radio station phoned him after the attacks on the Twin Towers. They knew what to expect from him."
In contrast to the despicable, contemptible way that Torre and the others egged Fischer on and brought out the worst in him, Olafsson and other Icelanders attempted to bring out the best in Fischer. Fischer's last radio interview took place in 2006, hosted by Saga Radio's Sigurdur Tomasson; while not entirely free of his bigoted opinions (to put it mildly), this interview also featured Fischer calmly reminiscing about his days as a youngster in the vibrant New York chess scene and he offered his thoughts about various chess champions. Jose Raul Capablanca and Paul Morphy were Fischer's two favorites, while Fischer did not like Alexander Alekhine as much even though he respected Alekhine's strength. "Alekhine had a rather heavy style," Fischer said. "Capablanca was much more brilliant and talented, he had a real light touch...But the thing that was great about Capablanca was that he really spoke his mind, he said what he believed was true, he said what he felt." You don't have to be a psychologist to figure out that Fischer admired Capablanca so much because he considered him a kindred spirit both in terms of talent and outspokenness.
Fischer revolutionized chess with his opening innovations, his peerless endgame technique and his fierce will to win--and the increment-based chess clock that he patented has become standard fare in serious chess tournaments. He accomplished so much despite his serious mental health problems that one cannot help but wonder how much more he could have achieved if he had been able to stabilize his fragile mindset and volatile emotions. It must have taken an extraordinary act of concentrated will for Fischer to become World Chess Champion despite his illness; how many other great minds never become known to the world because their brilliance is trapped within a web of turbulent emotions and fears?
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Wall Street Journal Attempts to Correct Faulty Chess Article
In a BEST post titled Why Does Chess Not Receive Intelligent Mainstream Media Coverage? I discussed a flawed Wall Street Journal chess article. On September 30, the Wall Street Journal published the following correction notice regarding that article:
Bobby Fischer played the chess opening Alekhine's Defense a number of times prior to his 1972 match with Boris Spassky, and Mr. Fischer opened his sixth game with Mr. Spassky with the move c4. In addition, Garry Kasparov and Anatoly Karpov played their final world-championship chess match in 1990. An article in the Sept. 26 Weekend Journal about a recent match between Messrs. Kasparov and Karpov incorrectly said their last world-championship match was in 1987. The article also incorrectly said that Mr. Fischer had never played the opening Alekhine's Defense before and that he opened his sixth game with Mr. Spassky with the move d4.
The day before the Wall Street Journal published the above note, I received this email from Peter Saenger, the News Editor for the Weekend Journal (Saenger's reply is placed in italics to separate it from the text of this post but is otherwise reprinted exactly as he sent it, including the misspelling of Botvinnik's first name):
Dear Mr. Friedman,
Thanks for your comments. We always appreciate hearing from readers. We will deal with some of the other issues you bring up in a correction to be published soon, but I wanted to point out one thing: When we published the part about Mr. Botvinnik, we hoped it would be clear from the context that we were not saying he was the first world champion ever:
For 4 1/2 decades after World War II, with only one short interruption, the world champion was a citizen of the Soviet Union. / Miikhail Botvinnik was the first champion, in 1948, and to a large extent he established the nature of the modern game.
Again, thanks for your comments, and please don't hesitate to write us again over any issue. Thanking you, I am,
Sincerely, Peter Saenger / News Editor / Weekend Journal
Arguing that "context" clarifies sloppy writing is a poor excuse. Contrary to what author David Szalay implied, Russia's chess tradition predates Lenin and the Soviet Union and includes such great players as Alexander Petrov, Carl Jaenisch, Mikhail Chigorin (challenger for the World Chess Championship in 1889 and 1892), Emmanuel Schiffers and Alexander Alekhine (World Chess Champion, 1927-1935, 1937-46). The 1914 international tournament held in St. Petersburg, Russia is a landmark event in chess history: the top five scorers were World Champion Emmanuel Lasker, future World Champions Jose Raul Capablanca and Alexander Alekhine, Siegbert Tarrasch (challenger for the World Chess Championship in 1908) and U.S. Champion Frank Marshall (challenger for the World Chess Championship in 1907). Many sources state that Czar Nicholas II conferred the title "Grandmaster" on those five players as a result of their success at St. Petersburg, though historian Edward Winter is skeptical of those accounts.
Instead of relying on "context," Szalay could have provided his readers with more information by writing: "Alexander Alekhine, heir to a Russian chess tradition dating to the 19th century, defeated Jose Raul Capablanca to become World Champion in 1927, lost the title to Max Euwe in 1935, defeated Euwe in 1937 and retained the crown until his death in 1946. Alekhine, like his predecessors, enjoyed the right to handpick his challenger but after his death FIDE (the International Chess Federation) took over the World Championship and in 1948 held a tournament to crown Alekhine's successor; Soviet star Mikhail Botvinnik won that event and for the next four and a half decades--with one brief exception--the World Chess Champion was a Soviet citizen."
My version is 64 words longer than Szalay's version but my version is written much more clearly and it is historically accurate. The problem with what Szalay wrote is not just that he erroneously called Botvinnik "the first champion" but that he asserted that Botvinnik "to a large extent established the modern nature of the game." Botvinnik certainly made a significant contribution to the evolution of chess but it is wrong to deny or diminish the contributions made by Paul Morphy, Wilhelm Steinitz, Aron Nimzovitch and other great players/theoreticians. Szalay clearly is not an informed student of chess history, nor did he do the necessary homework prior to writing his article and that is why his text is littered not only with the most basic factual errors but also presents a slanted take on the history of the sport.
Neither Saenger's email nor the Wall Street Journal's published correction address Szalay's confusion about the difference between a "match" and a "game"; Szalay bizarrely stated that Kasparov and Karpov drew a "speed chess match" in 1999, when in reality Kasparov beat Karpov three times while ceding only one draw en route to winning a rapid chess event in Frankfurt that year. Szalay oddly neglected to mention that Karpov defeated Kasparov in a four game rapid chess match in 2002.
I don't understand how writers, editors and fact checkers who have access to proper research materials make so many mistakes; switching gears to basketball, it befuddles me when the "crawl" on ESPN calls the legendary Oscar Robertson "Oscar Robinson" or when Chris Berman declares that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar missed game six of the 1980 NBA Finals due to a migraine (Abdul-Jabbar sprained his ankle during game five and that injury kept him out of game six, opening the door for Magic Johnson to author a legendary performance). Granted, anyone can make a mistake but why do so many people/organizations who are purportedly the leaders in their fields make so many basic mistakes? If you don't know a fact or statistic then before you write it or say it, take five minutes to confirm it. Szalay's mistaken references to Bobby Fischer's opening repertoire are easily refuted by consulting any number of sources, including the book Bobby Fischer's Chess Games (Wade and O'Connell, 1972), which contains all of Fischer's tournament and match games prior to his 1972 World Championship Match with Spassky and indexes each of those games by opening variation. Half of Kasparov's final World Championship match with Karpov took place in New York City in 1990, so it is ironic that the New York City-based Wall Street Journal is apparently unaware of a significant event that took place so close to their headquarters--and it is hard to take Szalay seriously as a chess writer if he does not know such recent history.
Hall of Fame quarterback Steve Young, who is now perhaps ESPN's best NFL analyst, refers to quarterbacking as a "craft," insisting that quarterbacks should study the game and practice their techniques with the mindset of perfecting their craftsmanship; Young certainly took that approach during his playing career, evolving from a scrambler to become the highest rated passer in NFL history. Writing and editing are also crafts and the practitioners of those crafts should have enough pride in their work that they put forth the effort to know their subject matter and express their ideas clearly.
The Wall Street Journal properly corrected Szalay's basic factual errors but this does not change the reality that Szalay's piece distorts chess history by belittling Russia's great chess tradition, minimizing the greatness of Botvinnik's predecessors and inexplicably contending that during their recent match Kasparov and Karpov reprised "their younger, fiercer, hungrier selves." Szalay's article fails at all levels because he does not know the basics of chess history, he does not appreciate the subtleties of how the sport has evolved and he obviously has no familiarity with the Kasparov-Karpov rivalry past or present.
Bobby Fischer played the chess opening Alekhine's Defense a number of times prior to his 1972 match with Boris Spassky, and Mr. Fischer opened his sixth game with Mr. Spassky with the move c4. In addition, Garry Kasparov and Anatoly Karpov played their final world-championship chess match in 1990. An article in the Sept. 26 Weekend Journal about a recent match between Messrs. Kasparov and Karpov incorrectly said their last world-championship match was in 1987. The article also incorrectly said that Mr. Fischer had never played the opening Alekhine's Defense before and that he opened his sixth game with Mr. Spassky with the move d4.
The day before the Wall Street Journal published the above note, I received this email from Peter Saenger, the News Editor for the Weekend Journal (Saenger's reply is placed in italics to separate it from the text of this post but is otherwise reprinted exactly as he sent it, including the misspelling of Botvinnik's first name):
Dear Mr. Friedman,
Thanks for your comments. We always appreciate hearing from readers. We will deal with some of the other issues you bring up in a correction to be published soon, but I wanted to point out one thing: When we published the part about Mr. Botvinnik, we hoped it would be clear from the context that we were not saying he was the first world champion ever:
For 4 1/2 decades after World War II, with only one short interruption, the world champion was a citizen of the Soviet Union. / Miikhail Botvinnik was the first champion, in 1948, and to a large extent he established the nature of the modern game.
Again, thanks for your comments, and please don't hesitate to write us again over any issue. Thanking you, I am,
Sincerely, Peter Saenger / News Editor / Weekend Journal
Arguing that "context" clarifies sloppy writing is a poor excuse. Contrary to what author David Szalay implied, Russia's chess tradition predates Lenin and the Soviet Union and includes such great players as Alexander Petrov, Carl Jaenisch, Mikhail Chigorin (challenger for the World Chess Championship in 1889 and 1892), Emmanuel Schiffers and Alexander Alekhine (World Chess Champion, 1927-1935, 1937-46). The 1914 international tournament held in St. Petersburg, Russia is a landmark event in chess history: the top five scorers were World Champion Emmanuel Lasker, future World Champions Jose Raul Capablanca and Alexander Alekhine, Siegbert Tarrasch (challenger for the World Chess Championship in 1908) and U.S. Champion Frank Marshall (challenger for the World Chess Championship in 1907). Many sources state that Czar Nicholas II conferred the title "Grandmaster" on those five players as a result of their success at St. Petersburg, though historian Edward Winter is skeptical of those accounts.
Instead of relying on "context," Szalay could have provided his readers with more information by writing: "Alexander Alekhine, heir to a Russian chess tradition dating to the 19th century, defeated Jose Raul Capablanca to become World Champion in 1927, lost the title to Max Euwe in 1935, defeated Euwe in 1937 and retained the crown until his death in 1946. Alekhine, like his predecessors, enjoyed the right to handpick his challenger but after his death FIDE (the International Chess Federation) took over the World Championship and in 1948 held a tournament to crown Alekhine's successor; Soviet star Mikhail Botvinnik won that event and for the next four and a half decades--with one brief exception--the World Chess Champion was a Soviet citizen."
My version is 64 words longer than Szalay's version but my version is written much more clearly and it is historically accurate. The problem with what Szalay wrote is not just that he erroneously called Botvinnik "the first champion" but that he asserted that Botvinnik "to a large extent established the modern nature of the game." Botvinnik certainly made a significant contribution to the evolution of chess but it is wrong to deny or diminish the contributions made by Paul Morphy, Wilhelm Steinitz, Aron Nimzovitch and other great players/theoreticians. Szalay clearly is not an informed student of chess history, nor did he do the necessary homework prior to writing his article and that is why his text is littered not only with the most basic factual errors but also presents a slanted take on the history of the sport.
Neither Saenger's email nor the Wall Street Journal's published correction address Szalay's confusion about the difference between a "match" and a "game"; Szalay bizarrely stated that Kasparov and Karpov drew a "speed chess match" in 1999, when in reality Kasparov beat Karpov three times while ceding only one draw en route to winning a rapid chess event in Frankfurt that year. Szalay oddly neglected to mention that Karpov defeated Kasparov in a four game rapid chess match in 2002.
I don't understand how writers, editors and fact checkers who have access to proper research materials make so many mistakes; switching gears to basketball, it befuddles me when the "crawl" on ESPN calls the legendary Oscar Robertson "Oscar Robinson" or when Chris Berman declares that Kareem Abdul-Jabbar missed game six of the 1980 NBA Finals due to a migraine (Abdul-Jabbar sprained his ankle during game five and that injury kept him out of game six, opening the door for Magic Johnson to author a legendary performance). Granted, anyone can make a mistake but why do so many people/organizations who are purportedly the leaders in their fields make so many basic mistakes? If you don't know a fact or statistic then before you write it or say it, take five minutes to confirm it. Szalay's mistaken references to Bobby Fischer's opening repertoire are easily refuted by consulting any number of sources, including the book Bobby Fischer's Chess Games (Wade and O'Connell, 1972), which contains all of Fischer's tournament and match games prior to his 1972 World Championship Match with Spassky and indexes each of those games by opening variation. Half of Kasparov's final World Championship match with Karpov took place in New York City in 1990, so it is ironic that the New York City-based Wall Street Journal is apparently unaware of a significant event that took place so close to their headquarters--and it is hard to take Szalay seriously as a chess writer if he does not know such recent history.
Hall of Fame quarterback Steve Young, who is now perhaps ESPN's best NFL analyst, refers to quarterbacking as a "craft," insisting that quarterbacks should study the game and practice their techniques with the mindset of perfecting their craftsmanship; Young certainly took that approach during his playing career, evolving from a scrambler to become the highest rated passer in NFL history. Writing and editing are also crafts and the practitioners of those crafts should have enough pride in their work that they put forth the effort to know their subject matter and express their ideas clearly.
The Wall Street Journal properly corrected Szalay's basic factual errors but this does not change the reality that Szalay's piece distorts chess history by belittling Russia's great chess tradition, minimizing the greatness of Botvinnik's predecessors and inexplicably contending that during their recent match Kasparov and Karpov reprised "their younger, fiercer, hungrier selves." Szalay's article fails at all levels because he does not know the basics of chess history, he does not appreciate the subtleties of how the sport has evolved and he obviously has no familiarity with the Kasparov-Karpov rivalry past or present.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Why Does Chess Not Receive Intelligent Mainstream Media Coverage?
Former World Chess Champions Garry Kasparov and Anatoly Karpov recently played a 12 game match in Valencia, Spain to commemorate the 25th anniversary of their first World Championship Match. The 46 year old Kasparov defeated the 58 year old Karpov 9-3, prevailing 3-1 in "rapid" games (25 minutes per player per game, plus a five second increment added after each move) and 6-2 in "blitz" games (five minutes per player per game, plus a two second increment). Kasparov's lopsided victory is hardly surprising considering the age difference between the players and the recent dramatic decline in Karpov's playing strength (he no longer ranks among the world's top 100 players) but it is worth remembering that their five World Championship matches were each tightly contested and yielded a cumulative score of 73-71 in Kasparov's favor. Their 1984-85 marathon match was suspended without conclusion, ostensibly because the players were exhausted after five months of combat; challenger Kasparov vociferously protested this decision because it certainly seemed designed to keep the title in the hands of Karpov, the defending champion who had been fading fast after taking a lead of five wins to none. Karpov led 5-3 when the match ended--with 40 draws (!) not counting because the match format required the winner to win six games--but Kasparov had just won two games in a row. Not surprisingly, that match format was altered when the players began a new match in 1985 and this time Kasparov triumphed 13-11 (five wins, three losses, 16 draws) to become the youngest official World Chess Champion. Kasparov successfully defended his title three times versus Karpov, beating him 12.5-11.5 in a 1986 match (five wins, four losses, 15 draws), drawing a 1987 match 12-12 (four wins apiece, 16 draws) and winning a 1990 match 12.5-11.5 (four wins, three losses, 17 draws).
Chess aficionados eagerly follow the moves played by the game's greatest champions and the internet has made it possible to do so instantaneously (subject to technical difficulties) as opposed to having to wait for the game scores to be published in newspapers, magazines or books; I remember getting together with a group of chess friends in 1990 to "watch"--via an internet connection--the first game of the Kasparov-Karpov match, a big change from previous World Championship Matches when I had to wait until the next day to find the moves in USA TODAY and could only find quality analysis of the games in magazines/books that were not published until weeks (or months) later.
The general public--at least in America--largely ignores what is happening in the chess world unless someone who is a child prodigy and/or has a charismatic personality captures their imagination: Kasparov, Bobby Fischer and Josh Waitzkin (the subject of the movie "Searching for Bobby Fischer") are three examples of chess players who achieved a certain degree of "mainstream" fame, though Waitzkin's story is no doubt much more widely known than his actual name. Kasparov is certainly more famous than Viswanathan Anand--the current World Chess Champion--and for that reason the recent Kasparov-Karpov showdown attracted a lot of attention from media outlets that generally provide little or no chess coverage.
I am ranked at approximately the 95th percentile of U.S. chess players and I consider the mano a mano competition in chess to be a welcome contrast to the subjective way that many other fields of endeavor--including writing--operate, so at one level I am happy to see chess receiving mainstream attention but at the same time I also am frustrated that the sport and its history are not presented more accurately. Chess is an ancient game that enjoys world-wide popularity among an incredibly diverse group of people who defy categorization by age, socioeconomic status, gender or race--so why is it so rare for a mainstream American media publication to offer an intelligent portrayal of this sport/art/science?
The September 27-28 edition of the Wall Street Journal includes a lengthy article by David Szalay titled "Old Kings, New Game." Szalay tries to place the Kasparov-Karpov rivalry in historical context but he paints an inaccurate picture of the development of the sport and he is also ignorant of several basic facts. Here is the text of a letter that I sent (via email) to the editors of the Wall Street Journal:
As a U.S. Chess Federation rated expert, I am happy to see chess receive "mainstream" coverage but overall I am disappointed in the rather superficial--and, in some cases, simply inaccurate--article written by David Szalay.
The WSJ article titled "Old Kings, New Game" asserts that Garry Kasparov and Anatoly Karpov "played their final world championship match in 1987." In fact, their final world championship match took place in 1990, with 12 games being held in New York and 12 games being held in Lyon, France. Kasparov won 12.5-11.5 to retain the world championship title.
Also, Szalay describes Mikhail Botvinnik as "the first champion" but that is not correct. As noted below, several world champions preceded Botvinnik--nor was Botvinnik the first player of Russian descent to hold the title (if that is what Szalay meant to say); Alexander Alekhine was born in Moscow.
Wilhelm Steinitz was the first official world chess champion; his reign officially lasted from 1886-1894, though he is widely credited as being the world champion for the period 1866-1894. Steinitz was succeeded by Emmanuel Lasker, who reigned from 1894-1921. Jose Raul Capablanca defeated Lasker in 1921. Alexander Alekhine beat Capablanca in 1927 and remained the champion until he died in 1946, with the exception of the years 1935-37, when Max Euwe took the title from Alekhine. Botvinnik ascended to the throne by winning a world championship tournament held in 1948, an event that featured several top contenders vying for the title vacated by Alekhine's death.
Furthermore, Szalay shows a lack of understanding of the evolution of chess when he dismisses the strategic understanding of Paul Morphy and presents Botvinnik as the creator of "modern chess." Many of Botvinnik's predecessors--including Steinitz, Aron Nimzovitch and Morphy himself--made significant contributions to the development of the "modern" game and Szalay neglects to mention that in 1960 Botvinnik suffered a championship match defeat at the hands of Mikhail Tal, a player whose style was not scientific but who played very much in the tactical/romantic manner that Morphy did; Tal's moves sometimes were refuted in post-match analysis but Tal put pressure on his opponents to find solutions during the game, with the clock running and the tension mounting.
I disagree with Szalay's conclusion that during the just concluded Kasparov-Karpov match in Spain that the players "slip(ped) back into their younger, fiercer, hungrier selves." While it is true that Kasparov and Karpov were not on cordial terms during their rivalry in the 1980s and early 1990s, they have since become friendly and the reality is that this match had a completely different tone than their earlier showdowns.
In his article, Szalay simply communicated his biases/lack of understanding about chess as opposed to researching the subject in depth or even bothering to follow what actually happened in the match in Valencia, Spain. I sincerely hope that the next time the Wall Street Journal provides such prominent coverage to chess that it uses a writer who is much more well versed about the subject.
--David Friedman
Although I doubt that the editors will either publish my letter or even respond to it, I kept it at a publishable length and thus did not do a complete recitation of all of the errors/distortions in Szalay's article. For instance, Szalay wrongly stated that Fischer began game six of his 1972 World Championship Match versus Boris Spassky with the move d4; Fischer in fact played c4 on the first move of that game, though by transposition the players eventually reached an opening that generally begins with d4. Szalay also referred to a "speed chess match" that Kasparov and Karpov drew in 1999, but they did not draw a "match"* in 1999, nor is what they did play properly called "speed chess": both players participated in a four player rapid chess event called the Siemens Giants held in Frankfurt, Germany; Kasparov and Karpov faced each other four times in this round robin tournament, resulting in three draws and one Kasparov victory. Kasparov took first place in the tournament, while Karpov finished fourth (last). As noted above, in "speed" chess each player generally has five minutes to complete all of his moves, while in "rapid" chess each player generally has 25 minutes to complete of all his moves; writing as if the two forms of chess are the same--or that they can be compared to games contested at slower time controls--is similar to writing as if a three on three tournament or a slam dunk contest are the same thing or that they can be compared to organized five on five basketball games. Furthermore, it is strange that Szalay chose to mention the 1999 event but did not say anything about the four game 2002 Kasparov-Karpov rapid match in which Karpov emerged as a surprise winner by the score of 2.5-1.5, an impressive victory for the older Karpov against Kasparov, who at that time still ranked number one in the world (though Kasparov was no longer the official World Champion).
In the literary world, Szalay's alleged expertise about chess has earned him not only prominent placement in the Wall Street Journal but also contracts to write chess-themed fiction books; over the board in the chess world, such "expertise" about how to play the game would only earn a humiliating defeat--or, in the immortal words of World Champion Emmanuel Lasker, "On the chess board lies and hypocrisy do not survive long. The creative combination lays bare the presumption of a lie; the merciless fact, culminating in a checkmate, contradicts the hypocrite."
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* Journalists who are not chess players appear to be chronically incapable of correctly using the most basic chess terminology: they are often confused about the difference between a "game" and a "match"; a game is one encounter between two players and can take place either in a tournament (which consists of a series of games played against different opponents) or in a match (which consists of a set number of games contested by two opponents). When I read a story about chess that incorrectly uses those terms interchangeably I feel like I am hearing fingernails scratching a chalkboard, because it is frustrating that some reporters apparently make no effort to do even the most basic research about their subject matter. In the 1999 Frankfurt event, Kasparov and Karpov played four games as part of a round robin tournament; loosely speaking, one could say that they contested a "match," but their battle was just one part of a larger tournament, in contrast to a true match that only pits two competitors against each other.
The chess concept that is most often misrepresented in the media is "stalemate," a word that non-chess players frequently--and incorrectly--use as a synonym for "impasse" or "deadlock," but the actual meaning of the term is quite specific and does not refer to two parties that are equally balanced in a standoff. In chess a stalemate is a particular type of draw, namely a situation in which one side enjoys a material superiority but has carelessly left his opponent with no legal moves without putting him in check (in contrast to checkmate, when the losing player has no way out of check); in chess, all stalemates are draws but not all draws are stalemates, an important distinction that is usually completely ignored in general parlance.
Chess aficionados eagerly follow the moves played by the game's greatest champions and the internet has made it possible to do so instantaneously (subject to technical difficulties) as opposed to having to wait for the game scores to be published in newspapers, magazines or books; I remember getting together with a group of chess friends in 1990 to "watch"--via an internet connection--the first game of the Kasparov-Karpov match, a big change from previous World Championship Matches when I had to wait until the next day to find the moves in USA TODAY and could only find quality analysis of the games in magazines/books that were not published until weeks (or months) later.
The general public--at least in America--largely ignores what is happening in the chess world unless someone who is a child prodigy and/or has a charismatic personality captures their imagination: Kasparov, Bobby Fischer and Josh Waitzkin (the subject of the movie "Searching for Bobby Fischer") are three examples of chess players who achieved a certain degree of "mainstream" fame, though Waitzkin's story is no doubt much more widely known than his actual name. Kasparov is certainly more famous than Viswanathan Anand--the current World Chess Champion--and for that reason the recent Kasparov-Karpov showdown attracted a lot of attention from media outlets that generally provide little or no chess coverage.
I am ranked at approximately the 95th percentile of U.S. chess players and I consider the mano a mano competition in chess to be a welcome contrast to the subjective way that many other fields of endeavor--including writing--operate, so at one level I am happy to see chess receiving mainstream attention but at the same time I also am frustrated that the sport and its history are not presented more accurately. Chess is an ancient game that enjoys world-wide popularity among an incredibly diverse group of people who defy categorization by age, socioeconomic status, gender or race--so why is it so rare for a mainstream American media publication to offer an intelligent portrayal of this sport/art/science?
The September 27-28 edition of the Wall Street Journal includes a lengthy article by David Szalay titled "Old Kings, New Game." Szalay tries to place the Kasparov-Karpov rivalry in historical context but he paints an inaccurate picture of the development of the sport and he is also ignorant of several basic facts. Here is the text of a letter that I sent (via email) to the editors of the Wall Street Journal:
As a U.S. Chess Federation rated expert, I am happy to see chess receive "mainstream" coverage but overall I am disappointed in the rather superficial--and, in some cases, simply inaccurate--article written by David Szalay.
The WSJ article titled "Old Kings, New Game" asserts that Garry Kasparov and Anatoly Karpov "played their final world championship match in 1987." In fact, their final world championship match took place in 1990, with 12 games being held in New York and 12 games being held in Lyon, France. Kasparov won 12.5-11.5 to retain the world championship title.
Also, Szalay describes Mikhail Botvinnik as "the first champion" but that is not correct. As noted below, several world champions preceded Botvinnik--nor was Botvinnik the first player of Russian descent to hold the title (if that is what Szalay meant to say); Alexander Alekhine was born in Moscow.
Wilhelm Steinitz was the first official world chess champion; his reign officially lasted from 1886-1894, though he is widely credited as being the world champion for the period 1866-1894. Steinitz was succeeded by Emmanuel Lasker, who reigned from 1894-1921. Jose Raul Capablanca defeated Lasker in 1921. Alexander Alekhine beat Capablanca in 1927 and remained the champion until he died in 1946, with the exception of the years 1935-37, when Max Euwe took the title from Alekhine. Botvinnik ascended to the throne by winning a world championship tournament held in 1948, an event that featured several top contenders vying for the title vacated by Alekhine's death.
Furthermore, Szalay shows a lack of understanding of the evolution of chess when he dismisses the strategic understanding of Paul Morphy and presents Botvinnik as the creator of "modern chess." Many of Botvinnik's predecessors--including Steinitz, Aron Nimzovitch and Morphy himself--made significant contributions to the development of the "modern" game and Szalay neglects to mention that in 1960 Botvinnik suffered a championship match defeat at the hands of Mikhail Tal, a player whose style was not scientific but who played very much in the tactical/romantic manner that Morphy did; Tal's moves sometimes were refuted in post-match analysis but Tal put pressure on his opponents to find solutions during the game, with the clock running and the tension mounting.
I disagree with Szalay's conclusion that during the just concluded Kasparov-Karpov match in Spain that the players "slip(ped) back into their younger, fiercer, hungrier selves." While it is true that Kasparov and Karpov were not on cordial terms during their rivalry in the 1980s and early 1990s, they have since become friendly and the reality is that this match had a completely different tone than their earlier showdowns.
In his article, Szalay simply communicated his biases/lack of understanding about chess as opposed to researching the subject in depth or even bothering to follow what actually happened in the match in Valencia, Spain. I sincerely hope that the next time the Wall Street Journal provides such prominent coverage to chess that it uses a writer who is much more well versed about the subject.
--David Friedman
Although I doubt that the editors will either publish my letter or even respond to it, I kept it at a publishable length and thus did not do a complete recitation of all of the errors/distortions in Szalay's article. For instance, Szalay wrongly stated that Fischer began game six of his 1972 World Championship Match versus Boris Spassky with the move d4; Fischer in fact played c4 on the first move of that game, though by transposition the players eventually reached an opening that generally begins with d4. Szalay also referred to a "speed chess match" that Kasparov and Karpov drew in 1999, but they did not draw a "match"* in 1999, nor is what they did play properly called "speed chess": both players participated in a four player rapid chess event called the Siemens Giants held in Frankfurt, Germany; Kasparov and Karpov faced each other four times in this round robin tournament, resulting in three draws and one Kasparov victory. Kasparov took first place in the tournament, while Karpov finished fourth (last). As noted above, in "speed" chess each player generally has five minutes to complete all of his moves, while in "rapid" chess each player generally has 25 minutes to complete of all his moves; writing as if the two forms of chess are the same--or that they can be compared to games contested at slower time controls--is similar to writing as if a three on three tournament or a slam dunk contest are the same thing or that they can be compared to organized five on five basketball games. Furthermore, it is strange that Szalay chose to mention the 1999 event but did not say anything about the four game 2002 Kasparov-Karpov rapid match in which Karpov emerged as a surprise winner by the score of 2.5-1.5, an impressive victory for the older Karpov against Kasparov, who at that time still ranked number one in the world (though Kasparov was no longer the official World Champion).
In the literary world, Szalay's alleged expertise about chess has earned him not only prominent placement in the Wall Street Journal but also contracts to write chess-themed fiction books; over the board in the chess world, such "expertise" about how to play the game would only earn a humiliating defeat--or, in the immortal words of World Champion Emmanuel Lasker, "On the chess board lies and hypocrisy do not survive long. The creative combination lays bare the presumption of a lie; the merciless fact, culminating in a checkmate, contradicts the hypocrite."
-----
* Journalists who are not chess players appear to be chronically incapable of correctly using the most basic chess terminology: they are often confused about the difference between a "game" and a "match"; a game is one encounter between two players and can take place either in a tournament (which consists of a series of games played against different opponents) or in a match (which consists of a set number of games contested by two opponents). When I read a story about chess that incorrectly uses those terms interchangeably I feel like I am hearing fingernails scratching a chalkboard, because it is frustrating that some reporters apparently make no effort to do even the most basic research about their subject matter. In the 1999 Frankfurt event, Kasparov and Karpov played four games as part of a round robin tournament; loosely speaking, one could say that they contested a "match," but their battle was just one part of a larger tournament, in contrast to a true match that only pits two competitors against each other.
The chess concept that is most often misrepresented in the media is "stalemate," a word that non-chess players frequently--and incorrectly--use as a synonym for "impasse" or "deadlock," but the actual meaning of the term is quite specific and does not refer to two parties that are equally balanced in a standoff. In chess a stalemate is a particular type of draw, namely a situation in which one side enjoys a material superiority but has carelessly left his opponent with no legal moves without putting him in check (in contrast to checkmate, when the losing player has no way out of check); in chess, all stalemates are draws but not all draws are stalemates, an important distinction that is usually completely ignored in general parlance.
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