About Learning… Language

Good day fellow chess enthusiasts. Yesterday I posted a piece which expressed some of the thoughts and emotions I currently have about the game, play, and learning about the game. While I remain a nube to the game it is clear to me that the surface of this game is thicker than most occupations I have come across — and the list of those is no small sample.

Every occupation or avocation with skills deep enough to have levels, such as: expert, master, cadets or novice presents a surface level of distinction, and deeper levels of understanding which are not obvious or even possible to note for the pedestrian observer. If some of the details under the surface do shine through they will be misunderstood or worse.

Raw, without an educated perspective to guide understanding they will not be intuitive. When misinformation, or sensational stories arise regarding a subject or activity it is usually because a tourist heard a word or phrase and plugged it into the wrong decoder.

Deeper domains develop their own language, generally made up of words used in general communication, which have special meaning inside the domain. There are language subsets we call ‘Jargon’ but those are words composed for the purpose and unique to subject matter. i.e. disk drive, RAM, CD are all jargon words for the computer fields.

But in chess we have the term ‘theory’.

In chess, "theory" refers to the body of established knowledge and principles that have been developed and accumulated over time regarding the opening moves, strategies, and positional concepts in the game. It encompasses well-known opening variations, common plans, tactical patterns, and strategic ideas that have been extensively studied and analyzed by players and experts. Chess theory guides players in understanding and making decisions in the early stages of the game, providing a foundation for further play.

The term "theory" in chess can also refer to specific opening lines or variations, often named after players or geographic locations. For example, the "Sicilian Defense" or the "Ruy Lopez Opening" are well-known theories in chess.

On the other hand, in the scientific context, "theory" refers to a well-substantiated explanation of certain phenomena or a broad framework that explains a range of related observations. Scientific theories are built upon empirical evidence, rigorous research, experimentation, and testing. In many cases a ‘theory’ is accepted as fact or law such as the Theory of Gravity. We know it is there, we just aren’t quite sure how it works — though no one is questioning the fact that it does work.

To add to the challenge, in general use, when someone uses the term, Theory, what they really mean is Hypothesis, or Untested Idea.

While both chess theory and scientific theory involve the accumulation and organization of knowledge, chess theory is more focused on established principles and strategies within the specific domain of chess.

So theory isn’t a jargon word, it is a borrowed word. They needed to call it something, and the act certainly looked like rigorous research and experimentation to the pedestrian observer. So they took it, and made it their own.

This happens all the time, even between languages this occurs. Taco, Burrito, and Salsa are all words borrowed from Spanish by English. Though when other languages do it, we call it borrowing, where as with English, it is more of a mugging, really. English will take anything and everything.

All of this lets me know that there is a language hurdle or barrier which must be navigated.

Learning jargon terms like en passant, is one thing. Sure it is a strange term, but that makes it easier to acquire the meaning of. I don’t have a previous meaning to unlearn.

In everyday language, "calculation" typically refers to the process of performing mathematical or arithmetic operations to arrive at a precise result.

However, in chess, "calculation" refers to the mental process of analyzing and evaluating different move sequences and variations. The goal is to understand the position in order to anticipate the consequences of potential moves. It involves visualizing and mentally exploring different lines of play, and assessing the resulting positions and outcomes.

These are distinct meanings. Walking by, looking at the surface, however, there is no access to the meaning understood by adepts of chess. Reaching this meaning from the beginning with only the word ‘calculation’ is not an intuitive process.

In the process of novel writing, there is a need for something similar to what chess adepts call, calculation. It’s called Inference. It is a shared experience. Every author I’ve ever discussed it with understood without discrepancy what I meant.

This Language as a Trap

This language issue is the first true hurtle when learning a new occupation. This is especially true when you approach them as I do — under a time pressure. It is the first and it will hang on fast to be the last. Throughout the process of becoming adept in the new pursuit, the struggle with meaning packs the most potential for critical frustration levels — frustration to the point where the pursuit is abandoned.

Chess, as with any pursuit worthy of the effort, means what it says — in its language there is little discrepancy between proper understanding and fallacy. This accuracy is inherent to the subject. At least that is my current belief. Chess is an activity which has no ambiguity. The piece is captured or it is not. There are no injured pieces. No penalty box they might return from soon. No yellow card for the Bishops on ruffing up the pawns.

There is no confusion in Checkmate

Puzzles, for example have one solution. This is why many of the puzzle books don’t bother with a Solution section in the back. You’ll know if you solve it or not. They don’t even tell you what you are solving for, or what your goal is beyond discerning the best move within the position. It could be checkmate, it could be a queen capture, or a bishop exchange. Whatever it is, you’ll know it when you divine it from the position.

And they are not solved by being close, either or ‘almost getting there’. Their design provides for the order of the moves. Responses are forced or obvious.

Take this one for example:

The three general questions to ask before attempting a solution are said to be:

• What are the ways to check the enemy king?
• Am I in danger of being checked?
• Do I have any hanging pieces?

In this case the last move by Black was Nh3+. We are in check. Thus our puzzle must deal with the check first. Why? Because that’s the rules of chess. If your king is in check, you must get him out of check before you’re allowed to do anything else. If you can not, then it is checkmate and the game is over.

My first thought is to move Kf1. I have the bishop and rooks defending there. However, if my objective is to deal with the knight with extreme prejudice —- if the goal is to be free of the Knight, — that move won’t do. Nothing is in line to capture the black Knight.

Kg1 moves into check, making it a poor choice — and against the rules of chess.

After some deliberation, I’m sure now, that the puzzle includes the objective of capturing the black knight because the piece has only two escape squares — and only one of them (Ng5) allows immediate capture — using the white Knight to do so.

My thinking here is guided by the understanding that puzzles are constructed to be 1) fair 2) solvable. If you ponder them long enough you pick up the understanding of the author.

If I move Kf1 or Kg2, the black Knight can move Nf4, allowing it to escape into the middle of the board. This will not do.

Thus, the solution must be Kg3, which attacks the black knight, forcing it to flee. The piece moves to the only place it can move with the King on g3, Ng5, and the white Knight captures… Nxg5.

We reach a solution with no ambiguity at all. No instruction required beyond ‘White to Move’ and the position.

What sends me into learning new domains of experience has been my writing. Characters. Fictional characters have lives and interests too. They are doctors, lawyers, homeless Vets, teen-age and confused, young-adult billionaires. They span the globe from Japan to Mali to California. They are often involved with dangerous fields or friendly with unstable social groups, such as werewolves.