At Zillas I came upon this quote, "I really don't like chess. It is boring."
And I replied thusly:
I really don't like opera. It is boring.
At the risk of offending our resident opera critic, Billy Dean Rawls, that's not the best way to put it. A better way to put it is: I really don't like X, because I find it boring.
In reality, it says more about me -- my uncouth upbringing -- than anything about opera.
Chess is much more than nerdy types whiling away the time. It is an art form, but I don't expect anyone else to agree with me unless they understand chess. I don't mean "understand" in the sense of knowing how to move the pieces; that would be the same as saying you understand Beethoven because you know the notes. The understanding I'm emphasizing is one of appreciation. There is beauty out there for those who know how and where to look.
It was during this brief note that the light bulb came on. I got it.
There is a difference between the intellectual understanding of a sentence and a connection to a sentence -- as in a shared experience.
When I read the late Balint Vazsonyi's Men for All Seasons, I knew that I intellectually understood what he meant, but that I had failed to grasp the complete and whole gestalt. Frankly, I don't know the difference between Garth Brooks and Beethoven. Nuance warning: yes, I can tell the difference between Garth and Ludwig, but I don't consider myself qualified to make a value judgement on their respective musical talents. This is a perfect opportunity to quote Dr. Vazsonyi:
But ridiculing the opposition falls short of the explanation required. In this age of mega-libraries, CD supermarkets and the Internet, how are new generations to divine what should claim their limited time and attention? All matters of judgment and taste need cultivation — a slow process, which requires keeping company with the best. Only in the last thirty years have people ceased to believe that there is such a thing as "best." Indeed, most people in most places and most of the time agreed on what that "best" was. Disagreements among the cultivated may pit Haydn against Mozart, or Wagner against Verdi, but never Beethoven against Elgar.
When I originally read this in 1996, I had to place myself in the same category as the young lady who raised Scott Joplin to the same level as Beethoven. Not because I wouldn't have sided with Dr. Vazsonyi -- I surely would have, but because I couldn't completely connect with his argument. I could not find an analogy that would embrace the same meaning as his example. Until now that is.
I'm not a chess grand master, but that isn't necessary to appreciate the wonderful complexity of the game, the fluid motion, the ballet of pieces. I've played many wargames from Risk to Europa (only diehard fans of old know that the complete set of board game Europa would take up an entire room and that it had several thousand pieces). They don't compare.
Chess, opera, and music aren't really the point here. Dr. Vazsonyi understood this weakness in contemporary American culture, "The only realm in which they steadfastly refuse to entertain a system of values is the spiritual, the intangible."
It's simply not permissible to have an elite in this egalitarian culture. Oh, there are exceptions. For instance, except when we're talking about the Hollywood elite -- since when does making a movie make you an expert about anything? And except when you put Supreme Court Justice in front of your name, then all of a sudden you are qualified to shape the culture beyond all law: natural and unnatural.
It's possible to disagree with this assessment. But ask yourself this: how many Americans would follow the Pope's spiritual leadership? Catholics are fair game. Really. How many Catholics really follow Catholic teaching? (Hint: think birth control, pre-marital sex, abortion, ect.)
And then think about Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and and the point of Balint Vazsonyi's essay.
Posted by Bob at December 2, 2003 01:38 AM