The Chess Mind

A reader (Paul) writes:

Hi, I love the blog. I thought you'd find this entertaining. I was running an internet blitz game through Fritz for suggestions, and it proposed the line below. I knew something was wrong, but couldn't believe just how wrong...(Fritz when asked for a hint at the end of the line sees it immediately of course). Anyhow, I hope you enjoy the small piece of entertainment in return.

1. e4 c5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. d4 cd 4. c3 dc 5. Nxc3 Nf6 6. Bc4 e5 7. 0-0 Fritz evaluates as 0.22, and recommends instead 7. Ng5 d5 8. Nxd5 Nxd5 9. Bxd5 Bb4+ 10. Kf1 Qf6 11. Bxf7+ Kf8 12. Bd5 Nd4 13. Be3 which it evaluates as 0.75. Just lovely.

Hi Paul,

Thanks for the nice words about the blog, and I appreciate your submission.

I attempted to replicate your results, but was unsuccessful. One thing I'd need to know was which version of Fritz you were using (I'm on Fritz 9), and at what move it produced that variation, what depth, etc. My best guess is that this analysis takes place after Black's 6th move, but on my computer Fritz gives 7.Ng5 d5 8.Nxd5 Nxd5 9.Bxd5 Be6 as Black's best hope, but thinks White has a pawn advantage or so after 10.Bxc6+ bxc6. (That's at depth 13; at depth 14 it continues 11.Qxd8+ Rxd8 12.Nxe6 fxe6, with the same +1.08 evaluation.)

This doesn't change as I move further into your variation. After 9.Bxd5, it considers 9...Bb4+ as its second choice, but follows up 10.Kf1 with 10...Be6, not 10...Qf6. (At least through depth 14.) Once I've entered 10...Qf6, it advocates 11.Bxf7+ Kf8 12.Bd5, but then thinks Black should play 12...h6. Finally, once we get to 12.Bd5, 12...Nd4 is its third choice, and it immediately recommends 13.Kg1, avoiding all the ...Qa6 shenanigans it apparently overlooked in your experience.

Nevertheless, my inability to duplicate your results doesn't disprove the more general phenomenon known as the horizon effect. This refers to the propensity of computers to calculate a variation to a certain depth and evaluate it in their favor, only to find, upon getting nearer to the line's conclusion, that the evaluation was (seriously) mistaken. The problem was initially out of the computer's "sight" - it was like a ship approaching, but not yet having appeared on the horizon.

Much has been made of this weakness in computer chess over the years, but not necessarily correctly. The reason is that this same problem befalls humans: it often happens that we calculate long variations, only to miss a zinger at or near the end of our variation. So why make fun of chess engines for the same thing? As long as computers are too weak to solve the game, and are forced to search, prune, and evaluate without certainty, horizon effect errors are guaranteed to occur. (Indeed, in a trivial sense, all (unintentional) errors are horizon effect errors.)

It seems to me that we can distinguish between types of horizon effect errors, though, in a way that is illuminating to the difference between human play and that of computers, and which may still be of use in games between the two. The first, not-too-interesting or useful sort is the one we've discussed so far: the missed tactic at the end of a long sequence. Chess engines are getting better and better at not missing these, but I'm not sure those errors can be stamped out completely, prior to the game's being solved.

The second and, for our purposes, more interesting sort is what I've called the frog-in-the-kettle problem. Apparently (I haven't tested this, and earnestly hope no one reading this will, either) if you put a frog in hot water, it will show good sense and jump back out if it can, but if you put it in warm weather and heat the pot, it will stay put. The application of this strange fact is not that you should put your computer in a vat of water and heat it - surprise, surprise. Rather, it's this: if you engage in a slow build-up against the enemy king, but do so in such a way that there are no hard-to-meet threats coming up against the enemy king in the next 5-10 moves, it turns out that the program will tend to ignore what you're doing, and will evaluate the position favorably to itself, provided everything else is going well.

As always, programmers are aware of the problem and are doing what they can to fix it, and it's not as easy to exploit this idea as it once was. Even so, as I've shown many times on my ChessBase show and on the blog, too, chess engines tend to underestimate one side's attacking prospects until the threats are right on top of them.

Thus while the first sort of horizon effect is a general problem that afflicts humans and engines alike, this second problem is distinctively silicon-based. A moderately experienced club player will know almost immediately that when the opponent starts massing troops on the border, it's time to bring in the reinforcements, or send the king elsewhere, or do something to deter the opponent's attacking ambitions. Not so for chess engines, even for one that's the strongest player in the world.

Unless Kramnik is reading this blog - and I'll go out on a limb and guess that he isn't - it's unlikely that any of us are going to face a computer in a meaningful event anytime soon. It is useful to keep this second horizon effect idea in mind when using a chess engine to analyze, however. If you're examining a position where one side seems to have a promising attack in the offing, even if it requires a bit of preparation first, then if the computer disagrees, ignore it. Finish the preparatory moves, and keep an eye on the evaluation. Is it creeping in the attacker's favor? Good! Continue in that same vein, and you'll often notice a pro-attacker trend. You'll get more out of your computer when you're aware of this, and it's useful when preparing novelties for your unsuspecting opponents - especially those who don't fully realize the danger of the frog-in-the-kettle horizon effect!

[T]he absolute truth is that without discipline nothing of any value can be accomplished. (Dallas Willard, The Great Omission (HarperSanFrancisco 2006), p. 171.)

I generally managed to engineer my games in such a way that standard reactions are inadequate. (Comment to his 9th move in the game Kasparov-Kamsky, Linares 1993, cited in Igor Stohl, Garry Kasparov's Greatest Chess Games, vol. 1 (Gambit, 2005), p. 307.)

Many of us don't bother looking for novelties, but simply do the best we can to arrange our repertories in accordance with the most optimistic evaluation we can find in modern theory. Others of us, more ambitious, do try to find new moves, either by means of switching on Fritz or his cousins, or by looking at different ways of implementing our preferred plan.

Kasparov's idea is different, though it doesn't exclude either of the means given in the previous sentence. It's akin to a prophylactic approach, but with a twist. The standard sort of preventive approach stops the opponent's idea before it can take shape, but Kasparov's tweak is to allow the opponent to execute his idea (e.g. a routine development scheme or typical middlegame plan) and then show it leads to serious, hard-to-foresee trouble. (A classic example, as Stohl notes on that same page, is Kasparov's fantastic win over Karpov in game 16 of their 1985 match.)

We might not be Kasparovs (and I use that "might" rhetorically), but we can learn from his approach. Sometimes the first step to finding a great idea is knowing what questions to ask, and Kasparov has added a valuable question to our toolkit. Let's use it!

Meanwhile, click here to see the two games mentioned above, with brief notes highlighting the way they exemplify the technique we've discussed.

Martin van Essen writes:

Hi Dennis,

I just read the topic "From the Mailbox: How Badly can a Computer Misevaluate?" from some months ago.

I remember once having setup a position in Chessmaster 9000 (on a humble 500 MHz) involving a black h-pawn (h3 or so) and nine black 'wrong bishops' (eight promoted ones). White's lone king at h1 faced an approximate 19 pawns deficit according to Chessmaster. I'm curious what other programs have to say about this.

My computer is more powerful than yours, but that didn't matter to Fritz, Shredder or Rybka, which gave evaluations ranging from +24 to +34! Indeed, it wouldn't matter if one were running the position on Hydra or Deeper Blue: either the software "gets it" or it doesn't. The hardware problem is this: the game could continue for almost 350 moves just taking into account the process of getting rid of the promoted bishops. So until computers are a lot more powerful than they are now, the only way for chess engines to get it right is by programmers creating a specific rule that 1-8 wrong-colored bishops draw, provided the defending king can reach the queening square.

From his Ascending the Heights: A Layman's Guide to The Ladder of Divine Ascent, page 73:

How do we battle this demon [boredom/tedium]? St. John [Climacus] suggests two things: perseverance in the course taken and cooperation with others who are struggling. The only way to beat boredom is to labor through it.

...We modern Christians tend to be "flash-in-the-pan" people. We start things, do them for a while, and then start something new. This is not the approved method for living the spiritual life. What is needed is perseverance and finishing the course. Once we have started on a certain path of prayer and struggle, we must keep on keeping on without allowing ourselves to be distracted.

Secondly, we beat boredom by reminding ourselves of what others have done and are doing. Tedium, says St. John, is rebuffed by community life. In our day and age, it is important that we continuously remind ourselves of the labors of the saints....In addition, it is good for us to establish relationships with others who are struggling. Knowing that I am not alone, that I am part of a community of strugglers, gives me the encouragement and motivation to persevere when I feel like quitting. [All emphasis in original.]

Of course, Mack is speaking of something far more important than chess, but that doesn't mean we can't and shouldn't apply it to our lives in general, and even chess training in particular.

I suspect, however, that there is much more to be said about boredom/tedium than Mack suggests. He's right that a constant itching for the new is an impediment to growth, and I'd add that it's an impediment to the bank balance as well. But sometimes boredom is caused by a self-inflicted rut, and the solution might be a fresh approach - we're not trying to run away from a particular problem, situation, duty or goal, but from a stale way of acting or thinking about that problem, situation, etc.

So while I agree with his three suggestions - persevere, reflect on the relevant aspects of the lives and careers of exemplars, and join up with those in a like situation - we can enrich the conceptual framework still farther. But that's the work of another day.

DG of the Boylston Chess Club Blog posts, with disapproval, a story about an elementary school chess tournament with no tournament winners. (The only prize was a chess set awarded on the basis of - ironically - a drawing.)

As I mentioned, DG disapproves, heading his post "With no winners, isn't everyone a loser?", and his first commentator appeals to nature, red in tooth and nail, to offer his support. Commentator #2 ("The Hungarian Knight"; henceforth THK), however, agrees with the tournament organizers - but not based on an unqualified rejection of competition:

I can't disagree with you more. A chess tournament in an elementary school should be fostering life-long chess adherents. For 1st through 3rd grades any and all games should be instructive and not competitive. There is plenty of time for competitive chess. And, if a child is that good, there are definitely competitive avenues for that child to explore.

I'm no specialist in elementary ed, but - pending correction from relevant experts - I disagree with THK's reasoning. While I have no problem with the claim that an elementary school chess tournament should have as (a) primary motivation that of fostering an enduring love of the game, I can't see why a normal tournament with prize-winners would fail to have that effect. The only statement in the neighborhood of an argument is that (for 1st-3rd grades) "any and all games should be instructive and not competitive."

This looks like a false dilemma: can't a game be competitive and instructive? In fact, the competitive aspect may well foster the instructional value. If I know that doing x, y and z in the future will increase my winning chances while a, b and c will enrich my subsequent opportunities to lose, then unless I'm impervious to competitive factors, I'm motivated to incorporate x-z and eschew a-c!

Contrary to THK's thesis, it seems to me less likely that a player will learn when nothing's at stake. In the absence of carrots and sticks, it's hard to see what will attract kids to the game at all, let alone learning it. There is the beauty of the game, yes, but it's the rare youngster whose aesthetic sensibility is so well developed that he or she will fall in love with chess, apart from any concrete successes. (And those that would are (1) likely to be very good at the game, and (2) are such that if they weren't very good, would probably enjoy it anyway.)

Another point: the tournament organizers' ploy is hollow anyway, because while they're not recognizing overall tournament winners, the individual games are still conducted in the usual way; to wit, with winners and (gasp!) losers. Will a player who lost every game really learn more and feel a less upset, just because no one won a first-place trophy?

If anything, the tournament's unspoken message is rather cynical: excellence will not be rewarded and talent, practice and effort don't matter either. Wonderful!

Rather than perpetrate this farce against both chess and the value of excellence, teachers and organizers can foster a love of the game in other ways, while helping kids realize that their intrinsic value as human beings is not determined by their results in a chess tournament. Of course kids (and adults, for that matter) shouldn't associate their self-worth with their ELO or place in the tournament table, but that's a more general problem that can be addressed while simultaneously allowing for competition. Put simply, to say that A is better than B at X does not mean that A is superior to B per se. (Making this point is straightforward within Judeo-Christian thought; other frameworks will have to supply alternative explanations.)

In sum, at least three distinct but non-contradictory messages should be given to young children. First, all human beings, qua human beings, are equal. Second, it's important to do one's best. One doesn't have control over one's talents, but does have control over how hard she applies herself to whatever task is at hand (whether competing or practicing). And third, one should strive for, appreciate and reward excellence. (Most sensibly, one should find the intersection of their talents and interests and strive in that direction.)

Finally, a point about competition per se. While it's certainly possible to be overly competitive, competition can be healthy, too - see this extremely interesting essay on, of all things, boxing and philosophy. (Via Maverick Philosopher)

Many of you are familiar with the yearly "advanced" chess event in Leon, Spain (so-called "advanced chess" events allow humans to consult with chess engines); this year's edition stars Topalov, Anand, Vallejo and Bruzon and starts Friday. The semi-finals take place on Friday (starting at 10:30 a.m. ET) and Saturday, and the finals are on Sunday. (Event website here.)

Aerosvit, on the other hand, is a newcomer to the scene. Here's the blurb from Chess Today (issue 2034):

A 12 player round robin organized by the leading Ukrainian airline and the national chess federation will be the strongest tournament in Ukrainian history. The event will take place 17th–28th June. The players are Ponomariov (2738), Ivanchuk (2731), Grischuk (2719), Akopian (2706), Shirov (2699). Mamedyarov (2699), Nisipeanu (2695), Harikrishna (2680), Bologan (2666), Karjakin (2661), Volokitin (2660) and Areshchenko (2660).

Current FIDE President Kirsan Ilyumzhinov won re-election to that post by a decisive 96-57 margin. Too bad, in my opinion, but chess and life go on. An approving commentary can be found here, while I've reproduced most of GM Alex Baburin's disappointed comments, from Chess Today 2034, below:

Chess Fidelity - Chess: 1-0 by GM Alex Baburin

It is now official – at the FIDE Congress in Turin Kirsan Ilyumzhinov and his team got re-elected by a large margin. I think that it was a really sad day for chess. Here are some of my predictions for the future:

• Corporate sponsors will stay clear of the sport run by the eccentric millionaire who believes that he was abducted by aliens

• Professional chess players will be offered 'contracts' in which they have only obligations and FIDE has all the rights

• The World Championship will be in a mess (think what is happening with the Candidate matches now)

• We will continue 'enjoying' the current time control

I'd like to elaborate on the last point. At the ACP general meeting in Turin the ACP Board members were asked who was responsible in FIDE for the change of the time official control. The response was that while they could not be sure, it seemed that Mr Makropoulos was particularly keen on the new time control and was unwilling to listen to other opinions. I've seen this time control (1h 30 minutes plus 30 sec increment) at the last two Olympiads. It is clearly much more stressful for the players than the 'classical' one and it affects the quality of chess. It also deprives the players certain dignity, as after 2-3 hours the player could be chained to the board, unable to afford a trip to the bathroom. But, hey, it has brought us this huge media attention! So, if you are sick of watching chess on CNN all the time, I suggest you complain to the FIDE leaders!