I've recently been thinking about the history of computers in chess, especially the intersection of chess computers and deception or suspicions of deception.
We might begin this history with the hilariously clever eighteenth century pseudo-automaton called "the Turk," a marvelous chess-playing hoax "machine" that turned out to be operated by a human being. In the case of the Turk, the cheating did not involve a human being relying on machine calculations and evaluations. Instead the deception involved exhibition of a supposed "machine" that was actually relying on a human being to make evaluations of positions and decisions about the optimal next move.
Suspicions of a parallel type of hoax emerged two centuries later, when IBM's Deep Blue beat World Champion Garry Kasparov in a match in 1997. Kasparov was for some time quite convinced that that the human team of GMs consulting on the operation of Deep Blue must have cheated by strategically augmenting the computer's calculations with human GM insights and evaluations.
It was big news in 1997 that a computer had won a chess match against the world champion. But I don't think anyone at that time expected computers to be used by players to cheat. The strength of the earliest available commercial chess computers for consumers had been so poor that most players considered them a bit of a joke. The prevailing idea in those early days seemed to be that you were probably a weak player indeed if you thought a computer (other than perhaps some massive mainframe developed by an AI team dedicated to chess) could help you win games against good players. But at some point even very strong players found that chess programs (typically with databases of games) could be helpful as tools of analysis and training.
And yet, even after it became clear that strong players including GMs could benefit from using computer engines, there was a period of time, if I'm not mistaken, when many players felt that it was not quite fair to make heavy use of a chess engine to aid their home preparation. There was nothing at all wrong with studying Šahovski Informator, but not everyone considered it kosher to use a computer to prepare for a chess event. I might be remembering this incorrectly, but players annotating their own games did not hesitate to attribute an opening novelty to "home preparation," but they tended to avoid expressly giving credit to computer assistance as part of their home prep. I don't suppose players felt that it would be considered "cheating" exactly to rely on computer help to develop a line, but my impression (based on reading annotations in New in Chess from, say, twenty years ago) is that strong players--even the relative humble ones--tended to think of themselves as hard-working researchers and/or creative geniuses (and many of them certainly were), so a certain degree of embarrassment might come from admitting to having used a computer engine to develop one's home preparations. All of this changed at some point, if my memory is correct. I wonder whether the gradual acceptance of reliance on computers in chess preparation and training was hastened by the fact that computers were able, fairly early, to "solve" many endgame positions thoroughly. I'm not sure whether or not in those older days (when many top-level games were adjourned, often in endgames), it was thought to be unsporting to consult an engine during the adjournment. On the other hand, I believe it was thought to be perfectly acceptable for a player to consult his seconds when analyzing an adjourned position. Maybe someone who remembers the olden days has a clearer recollection about this than I have. Perhaps the evolution of attitudes about computer use in adjournment analysis can be gleaned from reviewing FIDE rules and rule changes over the years.
I remember playing USCF tournaments in the 1980s, when certain computers, if accompanied by their operator, were welcome to compete against human players. Human players were allowed to opt out of being paired with a computer. One of the strongest computers at that time was called HiTech, which performed at a strong master level. I once watched a strong IM friend of mine, who had won against two GMs in the same tournament, struggle against a computer (I think it was HiTech) in a very long and grinding game that after many hours ended in a draw. This was surprising and fascinating to me, because not too long before that time computers had been unable to win, or even to draw, a game against an average club player.
With this historical background in mind, I started thinking again about the interview Hans Niemann gave after his defeat of Magnus Carlsen in Saint Louis at the Sinquefield Cup. In the post-game interview Niemann eagerly attributed his victory to what he called the "ridiculous miracle" that, earlier the same day of the game, he had been using an engine to analyze the unusual position that shortly thereafter arose in the actual game. Many people in the chess world immediately expressed suspicion about the veracity of this claimed coincidence (or, to repeat Hans Niemann's own words, this "ridiculous miracle"). Some people evidently consider it likely or at least plausible that Hans Niemann was somehow illicitly making use of computer analysis during the game itself, rather than, licitly, shortly before the game that day.
Let me emphasize that, to my knowledge, no direct evidence has (at least not yet) been brought forward that would prove that Hans Niemann actually cheated during that game. (And zealous defenders of Hans Niemann are quick to point out that it does not necessarily follow from one or two occasions of online cheating---nor even from a history of possibly more than a hundred occasions of being caught cheating online, nor even from a history of being less than candid about the extent and recency of cheating---it does not follow that the player who behaved unfairly online did in fact also cheat in a particular over-the-board game, or in any over-the-board game at all.) Anyway, if my historical recollection is correct, one interesting way that chess engines have changed our game is that, today, no one would think or say that it is in any way improper or unfair or embarrassing to consult a chess engine PRIOR to a game. I don't think that was entirely the case a few decades ago. Indeed, today, a player whose moves closely resemble an engine's preferred moves in a game will be happy to volunteer to an interviewer that he did happen to look on the computer, immediately BEFORE the game, at the very positions that shortly thereafter arose in that game.
The rise of online chess is of course another very important way that computers in chess have changed our game, and in some ways online chess could perhaps be seen as an encouragement to cheat. Online chess necessarily involves electronic devices of some kind. Interestingly, it seems that online chess is deemed by some people to be in a different realm, in some ways, from traditional over the board chess. I had not expected to hear GM Ben Feingold (whom I enjoyed meeting more than 30 years ago, when he was maybe 20 years old and already an entertaining character) explain, apparently in Hans Niemann's defense, that he was not at all surprised to hear that Hans Niemann cheated in more than 100 online games, because, he said, it is well known (and thus not particularly newsworthy) that Hans Niemann has cheated a lot online. Feingold said he imagined the number would be much higher than 100. Feingold's main point was to defend Hans Niemann by pointing out that it does not follow from Niemann's past online cheating, that he cheated over the board. My point here is not to discuss the question of whether or not Niemann cheated against Carlsen, but instead to wonder whether online cheating is generally considered less culpable or less odious or less unethical (and not just logistically more difficult) than over-the-board cheating. Is that so? I don't know.
If computer-based cheating in online chess is generally thought to be less wrong than over-the-board cheating----although I repeat that I don't know whether or not this is the general view---then perhaps this difference has something to do with the fact that online chess necessarily involves electronic devices or computers. I can't think of a close analogy right now, but if, say, baseball gloves or bats happened to be constructed in such a way that forbidden performance-enhancing medication would ooze out of them whenever a player squeezed them a certain way, would we be more tolerant of steroid abuse in baseball? This was definitely an inapt analogy.
I would be happy to read any discussion about the ways computers have changed chess.
Computers have changed much in the lives of human beings.
So, let me wish everyone well and sign off.
As a 9yo kid
I thought I could cheat
By seeing stockfish
Well I did not know bout' the ban system
Got banned :D *NOT THAT YOU SHOULD TRY TO CHEAT*
Never use computer's in a game
Cuz somone will eventually know that you are cheating
Use of computers, initially for database research, dates back to the mid and late 1980s. Prototypes that didn't work very well had been seen in the 1970s. For example a device named Tolinka had been taken to Baguio in 1978 by the Korchnoi team. See comtemporary magazine adverts, including those for ChessBase. In the late 1980s and early 1990s there was a gradual move to the abolition of adjournments in tournaments in favour of quickplay finishes. Seven hour sessions became one of the norms, so 40 in 2, 20 in 1, half hour to finish. By the mid 1990s, chess playing programs became strong enough to be of practical value for move ideas and assessments even at higher levels of play. I expect that helped to accelerate the abolition of adjournments. Engines are likely to have been used for opening resaerch once they became strong enough.
As far as online play is concerned, ICC (Internet Chess Club) had measures in place to detect computer usage in the 1990s. Because ICC was used by some developers to test their engine creations, the penalty for being detected was to have (c) after the user name. You could therefore decline challenges against those who had been outed.
@jadubovic said in #1:
> wonder whether online cheating is generally considered less culpable or less odious or less unethical (and not just logistically more difficult) than over-the-board cheating. Is that so? I don't know.
Cheating in a Fide event with Elo points at play, I think we would all agree, is vastly different.
I can't claim to know anyone's reason for thinking that online cheating is less culpable, but I expect people are much easier to "be sneaky" when their opponent is not directly across the table from them. Perhaps they think the disrespect of cheating isn't there because it's just a computer screen they are looking at. I don't agree with that, but it's the kind of mistaken assumption a kid would make.
Thanks to RogCov for mentioning Korchnoi's use of Tolinka for preparation against Karpov in 1978. I wonder whether the disclosure of this was perhaps part of the "psy/ops" campaign that surrounded the Karpov-Karpov matches, at last partly with the idea of making Karpov's team worry that Korchnoi had a secret weapon in his preparation. Was the availability of Tolinka made public at the time (or at any rate leaked to the Karpov team)? A bit earlier than 1978 I remember hearing someone in the U.S. (a kid) breathlessly report that "those sneaky Russians are inventing a computer to beat Bobby Fischer!" At the time, this seemed like a very silly thing to say and it made me laugh hysterically, partly because of the propaganda-laden assumption that the communist Soviets would of course cheat, but also because it seemed obvious then that a computer was not going to be able to beat a strong grandmaster anytime soon, if ever. I'm not sure where the Russian Computer story came from, but perhaps it was connected to the fact that Mikhail Botvinnik was professionally interested in pursuing artificial intelligence in chess.
At the bottom of the following link there seems to be a very brief clip of Korchnoi using Tolinka.
http://www.chesscomputeruk.com/html/intelligent_chess.html
I imagine Nomoreusernames is correct, that the absence of direct personal presence in online chess increases the temptation for online players to cheat. I appreciate the idea that the difference is not simply the relative ease of avoiding getting caught, but might also have to do with the difference in interpersonal "respect" for one's opponent that would normally be a factor in a face-to-face encounter. The thought process might be something like, "Is it really cheating if I cheat while playing on my own computer?") I suppose another aspect for some players is the anonymity (or rather the pseudonymous nature) of a username identity that is not always transparently traceable to the player. The lack of public accountability is surely a problem with social media generally. Many people tend to be less polite and perhaps less concerned with truth when they are masked by a pseudonym or an alias. (And it is not just kids who are susceptible to this. I read in the Washington Post a few weeks ago that it has come to light that the U.S. Pentagon has been involved in creating fake social media accounts for disinformation purposes.)
Another aspect of chess online is the growth of chess websites, streaming, etc. Like social media and the internet generally, chess websites tend to be monetized based on the amount of attention they can draw. This feature of the online world creates economic incentives to stir up emotions, to offer click-bait, etc. Maybe some portion of the partisan tone of recent discussions of the cheating issue is a direct result of the online format of those discussions.
If the Soviet Union had access to Western chess magazines and read the advertisments, they would likely have heard of Tolinka.
In any event it was probably the case that they had their own card based version of ChessBase in the Central Chess Club in Moscow, keeping Soviet GMs well informed. Korchnoi avoided this to an extent in his Candidate matches by recruiting English seconds and using ideas only found at the time in British tournaments where the games were not generally available, That's meeting 1. d4 with 1. .. b6 and similar ideas, sometime involving an early .. Qh4.
@jadubovic said in #5:
> I wonder whether the disclosure of this was perhaps part of the "psy/ops" campaign that surrounded the Karpov-Karpov matches
Ah, yes, the famous Karpov-Karpov matches from yesteryear. I remember them well, the newspaper had entire sections dedicated to it each day.
Karpov won.
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Thanks, Abigail-III, for pointing out my hilarious typo. I suppose Karpov's first world championship title match (in which Fischer declined to defend his title) could perhaps be considered a Karpov-Karpov match.
While I was out in the yard planting seeds today, I started mulling over the fact that chess players, according to the stereotype, tend to be suspicious (indeed, perhaps even a bit paranoid). In reality as well as in the popular imagination, strength in chess at most levels usually also involves a certain amount of calculated deception or concealment of one's own intentions, in addition to a keen sense of danger and even distrust regarding one's opponent. Intense calculation and a sense of mistrust are by no means necessarily equivalent to a mental disorder, but much has been written about the wild delusions of Steinitz as he grew older, the deep mental anguish exhibited by Paul Morphy, and so forth. The main idea here is that chess players have a reputation for paranoia and actually tend to consider it desirable and advantageous to be sneaky. A strong chess player will often consider himself or herself wily, as well as having chess knowledge, positional sense, artistry, and tactical skill. Do you suppose this self-concept (as wily) perhaps contributes to a disposition among some subset of chess players to countenance the possibility of surreptitiously getting help from a computer engine?
The deception involved in proper chess play is not considered cheating, any more than the deception involved in bluffing in certain card games is cheating. Bluffing is actually an extremely important part of many card games. Likewise, strong chess players routinely seek to create positions that will "trick" their opponent into making a mistake in move-order, or some other type of mistake.
On the other hand, keeping an extra ace up your sleeve is not part of the game. Similarly, in chess, consulting an engine's analysis during a game is against the rules of fair play. (I imagine this has sometimes not been entirely true, especially in certain kinds of correspondence games that have allowed or even encouraged players to use engines. But in general it is a rather basic principle that getting outside help, from another person or from a computer, is not allowed in a chess game.)
The philosopher Alisdair Macintyre explored the example of cheating in chess to illustrate his view that some goods are internal to an activity or a practice, whereas other goods are external. If a person's overriding goal is to increase his rating or to win prize money, then getting away with cheating in chess is not irrational (even if it is against the rules). That is, if you are aiming for goods that are external to chess (such as financial gain or the prestige or other benefits that might accompany an increased rating), then cheating could be a rational means to those goals. But if a chess player cares about what Alisdair Macintyre calls the "internal goods" of chess, it will simply not be rational for that player to cheat. I'm not a disciple of Macintyre's communitarian philosophy (and I'm not actually very well versed in his thought), but I think it's interesting that the example of cheating in chess has been the subject of philosophical consideration.
Here's a question for discussion: has the culture and practice of chess changed so much in the digital era, that winning by any means (perhaps even including by getting away with cheating) has now become "internal" to chess? I'm hoping the answer is no. But some lovers of chess have noticed that the "professionalization" and commercialization of chess (including the online opportunities), despite the salutary result of allowing some chess players to be much better compensated than in past, may have contributed to the sense that "success" in chess has with increasing prominence come to focus on monetary gain, rather than on the more traditional internal goods of chess.
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