Google's AlphaZero Has Made Watching A Chess Game Feel Like Going To The Opera

As the  Chess World Championship in London 2018 proved so conclusively, when you have everything to lose, humans more often than not will play things safe and not dare to dare. In the weeks since winning and retaining the World Championship, the highest rated player of all time, Magnus Carlsen, has admitted that his frustration in not being able to play to his potential for some time now has led him to admit he's not sure he will be defending his title again in 2020; a complaint you will not be hearing from a digital chess playing entity anytime soon, at least not in present iterations.

"When you reach a certain level, there is too much at stake to really let loose," (Magnus Carlsen)

At the top flight now, very rarely will players commit themselves fully to ideas which balance on a knife edge, walking the fine line between foolish hubris or artistic genius.

For this chess fan it has now become an obvious fact that watching the ideas produced by AlphaZero and Leela, neural network chess playing entities that feel no pressure, feel no embarrassment in losing and take no pleasure from playing perfectly when they do, has undoubtedly had the effect of injecting chess with a level of drama reminiscent of the Romantic period, where dynamic flourishes would render the chessboard a scene from a ballet rather than the grinding battle of attrition found in a military campaign.

Watching Grandmaster Daniel King become giddy like a child, declaring "This is unbelievable chess!", as he witnesses yet another move which for him, in the words of the wise sage Vizzini, was moments ago literally 'Inconceivable', heralds I think a rebirth of chess and further reaffirms the significance of this new age of dynamic playing that has begun. Humans, it seems, are accepting their role now as keen and content spectators, appreciators of games and other pursuits played by players who play games the way they ought be played.

AlphaZero has come to share the good news, that material means nothing when you have superior space and piece activity. Dynamism is back. Chess has become Art again in the truest sense of the word. And this is what the chess world has desperately needed to hear for some time now.

John Barnes, and what to do about Systemic Racism in the UK

I'm really glad John Barnes has always been a bit of a motormouth, able to squeeze a large amount of words into a short space of time. So it was nice to see him on national TV, outlining the scale of systemic racism reach in the UK with unapologetic conviction, neither hurried to respond nor unnecessarily provoked by loaded questions.

You can paint a damning picture of how bad things are in this country all you like though, and we can all agree how terrible the state of things might be, but I still feel like the conversation we really need to get in motion is the one about how society goes about being proactive tackling racism without it's method to do so creating new problems or inflaming existing ones.

John talks about the need to "change the perception of the average black person in the street". The man's not asking for much is he?!! Who would or could even achieve that exactly? Who's responsibility is it to change the perception of the average black person in the street? And if the answer is everyone's, then do we focus on the aspects that are best suited to the strengths we possess individually or the privileges we get as members of the various groups and collectives we belong to? But beyond the assignment of responsibility, who's sat there, revved up on standby thinking to themselves "I'm proper up for changing the perception of the average black person in the street, me!"?

Some people will argue that simply changing the way something appears changes nothing fundamentally. A change of perception in this instance being nothing more than a veneer laid over the festering wound of racism that will soon rot itself if it fails to contain the problem it hopes to mask. Intentionally changing the way something is perceived in the hope that any immediate positive results become contagious and spread throughout the system sounds a lot like putting faith in a placebo. Bit risky though. Sometimes putting on a brave face can help you to convince yourself that you are actually brave, and after a week of wearing the mask and getting on with life you might find it quite difficult to recall how feeling scared felt 7 days ago; perhaps because repeatedly seeing the mask whenever you looked in the mirror normalised the act of seeing yourself brave. But this strategy at a national level could go all over the show, and placebos don't tend to work well against established pathological conditions.

Others still will insist that black people are represented fairly and accurately in society. The way they are portrayed is the way they actually are, and should they wish to see a change in how others see them, the responsibility is squarely on black people themselves to make it happen. To achieve such a feat at the national level no doubt would require extensive use of social media to transmit a warmer, more convivial perception of the average black person. Pleasant. Affable. This fairer perspective would eventually win the hearts of all haters and baiters from Lands End to John O'Groats.

But it's impossible (in 2018 at least) to have total control over your public perception once you exist in the minds of others, which is why the domain of public perception is more like a battleground where a royal rumble of characterisations of you fight it out to gain ground and assert their influence. If the media aren't fond of you, don't be surprised to see them using apache helicopters to airlift in weapons to supply the characterisation of you which will do you the most harm, before scuttling off quietly back to base, leaving you to fight to save your true identity from being mauled to death by impostors.

So if I'm understanding John Barnes fully, what black people need is a way to counter balance the endless tide of subtly demeaning narratives circulating around us, designed by those in power to ensure that for black people the clouds are the limit, and never the sky. Black people need their own means of perception production pumping out stories able to convince them that striving to go beyond is never a futile pursuit, it is always worthwhile. What black people need is a black Rupert Murdoch! Hahaha!!! Sorry, got carried away there!

The only idea I could come up with that could remotely help John was if I changed my name to 'The Average Black Person in the Street' and then won Countdown or learned advanced music theory and then wrote an amazing symphony or award-winning play, people might say to each other "Hey, the average black person in the street is very smart isn't he!" or "The average black person in the street has a real flair for clarinet arrangements don't you think?". Whatever I was able to excel at, people would tell their friends about and so inadvertently, over time, I would be subconsciously reinforcing a perception of the average black person in the street being highly intelligent and capable, which is already the case, but more people could know about it. Deffo worth a punt if all else fails!

Dont Allow Others To Determine Your Mental Health

With today being world mental health day (Oct 10th), I'm reminded by how much of a colossal struggle just finding the right path towards a healthy mind can be.

School can be an absolutely brutal place. Witnessing the naive and often unjust ways alpha girls and boys would exercise their power on the more vulnerable kids in the playground was a constant reminder that school was first and foremost a place you had to survive in order to then learn.

As the only black kid throughout junior school, and one of perhaps three in secondary, it was important for me not to become fixated upon how I differed from other kids, and instead, look for the things we had in common and could enjoy together. I figured that having friends in various different playground cliques meant there should be less chance of me being seen as an outsider who couldn't fit in, and so kids should have less of a reason to find beef with me.

The more I was accepted into peer groups, the more it confirmed that I was similar to them after all, which led to a sense of belonging and safety, a feeling that seemed important to have in order to get the most out of being in a learning environment. Acceptance from fellow pupils became a source of validation and self-esteem, which in turn led to having more confidence and a general contentedness.

As I grew older and my sense of who I was became more defined, problems started arising. Particular groups I wanted be a part of, and thought had things in common with, wouldn't allow me to join and often gave no reason why. The decision to yay or nay my requests resting in the hands of the more domineering kids in the group for whom passing judgement in this way was fun, but for those unfairly condemned it could be a soul crushing experience.

There was an obvious flaw in the soundness of my high school survival strategy. Was it wise for my sense of well-being and self-worth to be at the mercy and whims of the other kids? My mental health felt like a commodity on the stock market whose value rose and fell with each acceptance or rejection, reinforcing a hunch the world was just this indifferent and cold arena that rewarded the strong and dominant with the most freedoms.

Why should membership to desirable peer groups have such a powerful impact on my mental health?

I remember being 18, standing awkwardly in the garden of my friend's parents one bonfire evening. One of 10 blokes who, without any prior conferring, had assembled into a perfect man circle on the lawn; the work colleagues of my friend's dad, plus myself. I was shooting the breeze with real men of the world. We were getting to know each other through the mutual exchange of our vast life experience as we flaunted our checked shirts, held cans of Fosters to our chests like they were trophies, occasionally glancing behind to scoff at the poor excuse for a fire while we shooed away any giddy child that asked us to play with them.

By donning the correct costume, performing the appropriate gestures I'd seen other blokes perform, as well as regurgitating stock answers to most of the common ice-breaking questions a bloke will ask another fellow bloke he doesn't yet know, I could tell I was on the verge of entering blokedom proper, and was a hair's breadth away from assuming my position as a functioning member of the privileged patriarchy.

After about half an hour or so of trying to assimilate with these learned elders, I noticed there was one main bloke who did the majority of the speaking, and was the default focal point if you didn't know what to do with yourself; like stand properly, or hold your can of beer with a convincing level of manliness. Despite his irritating braggadocio, he was a welcome diversion that deflected group attention away from my poor quality man acting. Occasionally he would look over to another bloke, who I concluded was his deputy, for those moments when he needed his more audacious claims backing up.

An hour had past, the Fosters was flowing and I'd gained the ability to hear things beyond the cacophony of anxieties in my head. I felt at ease. I could focus on the actual content of what us guys were sharing with each other, and could think about how I'd be able to shoehorn myself into the conversation. So I listened eagerly for an opening in order that I could make my mark.

What I heard was a series of banal accomplishments, mainly home improvement based, presented to the group as though they were scientific breakthroughs. Disdain was being flung at nearly everyone and everything, designed it seemed, to exemplify their own strengths. Their incompetent work colleagues, their illogical and irrational wives they couldn't understand and regretted marrying, their children who were unaware of what good music was, the idiotic tactics the manager of the football team they supported would use. The weather. Modern life. Vegetarians. It just went on and on... The best I could manage was a couple double-entendres and an innuendo that brought a ripple of chuckles, but it felt completely contrived. I was being a fraud, ticking boxes to gain status. I did consider the possibility that everything they were saying was valid, but for some reason I didn't feel like I was in the presence of 9 Nobel laureates.

At a certain point during the exchange I felt a bit off. Waves of disenchantment about what the hell I was doing and what being a man actually involved began swirling around inside. Then one of the guys began regaling us all with the time he heroically got out of his car to give a lollipop man a piece of his mind for walking into the road too abruptly...

"Nah, this is shit!" I said out loud, fetched my bike and rode home.

Seeing yourself as a Sieve

The benefits of being a sieve

For some, a pause in their journey can offer a rare moment of quiet contemplation, a chance to plan an alternative route toward their destination or an opportunity to get off the ride altogether.

Other things can provide benefit by not being stopped.

Like a sieve which is having water poured into it from above, I let things pass through me. Whatever it is. I don’t hold onto anything because I can’t. I’m a sieve. It’s not something I’m capable of. It’s not my purpose.

That’s not to say that everything is in one ear and out the other. There’ll always be some sort of residue or trace left behind, however temporary, along the surface of the sieve where the water hit it, and that is where I came into contact with an experience head on, looking straight at it as it touched me before carrying on its way through.

I try not to hold onto any powerful experience or emotion running through me, whether it be beautiful, terrifying, hopeful, sad etc. Of course I try to feel it fully in the moment, and savour it in real-time, not file it away to be unpacked and perused over another day. I try to be 100% present. Right here. Right now. 

Looking long-term, I’d rather focus on what kind of residual mozaic will be left upon my soul after being touched by so many different hues of experience, and having some sort of overall shape or form in mind today as I go forward. A life-time piece of internal art which many people hope to only complete when they know they are experiencing their final hours, comfortable and wanting for nothing, surrounded by all the people that love them.

Seeing myself as a sieve I think was a strategy I had to adopt because I feel things too much. I needed a way to carry on feeling the essence of things but not have to block out those things that were too painful or too beautiful for me to contain. 

Holding onto things, even amazing things, trying to preserve them inside me forever always becomes too much, and something eventually gives way because I’m not allowing whatever it is, to carry on its way. And so the concentration inside increases as I harbour the experience/emotion against its will, and at some point  it will become toxic to me.

What the Garden of Eden story means to me now

I used to take it as a lesson in why you shouldn't disobey God because he will fuck your shit up for eternity if you do, but now I see it being about temptation (vice), and how resisting real temptation i.e. something you know is morally not good for you but gives you pleasure (made even more intense if you know you can get away with it), resisting the urge and impulse to gorge ourselves on that kind of seduction will keep us in a place of godliness i.e acting in perfect harmony with oneself. But with humans being humans, I'm tempted to claim that Adam felt life in the Garden of Eden was boring as fuck and fancied something different for his mind to get stuck into instead of lying around all day, being satisfied in every way. Adam was the first human to live a fully automated, luxurious lifestyle, who wanted for nothing and had an Alexa called God. Adam was an unwitting Neo who accidentally created the Real through his curiosity.

But anyway, I think that most people can begin the ascension to godliness through the resistance of their vices because the act of being able to say no to something your body is screaming yes for is a demonstration of supreme self-control, self-determination, it's morally nutritious etc, and these building blocks lead to heightened confidence, greater awareness of how one can realise one's potential...

Maybe that sounds like a no-brainer of a decision to make but I think most people are like anti-Icaruses, in that they become scared when they find themselves flying so high. They get vertigo. They're reluctant to soar above others for fear of making themselves targets, or they are afraid of being overwhelmed by the feelings of joy and exhilaration that resonate them from experiencing such a magnificent view. 

Why are we in such a rush to get humanity lived, over and done with?

The Accelerationists of this world seem to want it to spin so fast that it hums. Anyone that doesn't have a firm grip on the way things are going to be from now on will be flung off in due course. This is no time for laggards and toe dippers. Those who develop a mental illness in response to the incessant reconfiguration of their environment shall be steered towards machines that will teach them how to cope. The daily pursuit of hyper-optimizing our capacity for work will give us meaning and keep us moving forward. Those struggling to keep pace with the system unaided are encouraged to automate part of their function or take the necessary cognitive enhancers to help bring their level of operation up to speed. All time will be purposeful and accounted for. 
Free time is wasted time.