Philosophy, so they say, is a great equalizer. Whether we’re rich or poor, we can all find answers to everyday questions in meditation or the principles of the Stoics. But according to philosopher Daniel C. Dennett, that doesn’t keep some of his colleagues from being trapped in a game of Chmess. Using the analogy of a made-up game, Dennett explains how meaningless philosophical disciplines come into existence and ruin the careers of young minds. There’s an undeniable parallel to the concept of Bullshit Jobs proposed by the late David Graeber. Let’s explore what both are and how they could solve each other.
What Is Chmess?
Chmess is very similar to chess, with the exception that the king can move two squares in any direction instead of just one. While this opens up a whole new field of study, it’s somewhat useless since the number of people playing the invented board game is exactly zero. Dennett came up with the game in his 2006 essay, Higher-Order Truths About Chmess. The professor put a certain type of academic philosopher in the crosshairs. In his view, they were wasting their time by devoting their careers to investigating Chmess-like phenomena:
There are just as many a priori truths of chmess as there are of chess (an infinity), and they are just as hard to discover. And that means that if people actually did get involved in investigating the truths of chmess, they would make mistakes, which would need to be corrected, and this opens up a whole new field of a priori investigation, the higher-order truths of chmess, such as the following:
1. Jones’ (1989) proof that p is a truth of chmess is flawed: he overlooks the following possibility…
2. Smith’s (2002) claim that Jones’ (1989) proof is flawed presupposes the truth of Brown’s lemma (1975), which has recently been challenged by Garfinkle (2002)…
The problem with pursuing such a discipline, according to Dennett, is that they’re “artifactual puzzles of no abiding significance”. Meaning, this type of philosophy lacks any practical applicability in the real world. In a sense, it’s the mother of all ivory towers. Philosophers, however, could get away with it because their research rarely relied on empirical data and a corresponding analysis that would expose their hypotheses as empty.
Where Chmess Goes Wrong
Even if Chmess players only create the illusion of having expertise applicable to reality, it may not be entirely useless. It’s accepted work, after all. Players engage in critical thinking and problem-solving, write about it and get paid the same way they would when playing chess or pursuing a discipline Dennett deems worthwhile. If there’s a market for it, more power to them. So why bother?
Dennett’s main concern seems to be unsuspecting undergraduates being lured into a career of philosophical nothingness. He blames this on self-absorbed philosophy professors who feel obliged to keep up the charade. Students may not intend to devote their professional careers to the study of quasi-science fiction. But they may end up feeling cheated if their expertise will never be in demand. In the end, the only options they will have left are to change careers or to carry on the flame of make-believe.
The bad news is that Chmess isn’t limited to philosophy or academia for that matter.
What Are Bullshit Jobs?
In 2013, anthropologist David Graeber observed a similar type of work he chose to name Bullshit Jobs in an eponymous essay. His article struck a nerve. Five years and a wealth of reports from readers later, he made his contribution to the science of bullshit in book form. Graeber published his findings in Bullshit Jobs: A Theory. But it’s important to note that Graeber isn’t talking about professions regarded as tough or unpleasant such as being a miner or nurse. Instead, he defines bullshit jobs as:
a form of paid employment that is so completely pointless, unnecessary, or pernicious that even the employee cannot justify its existence even though, as part of the conditions of employment, the employee feels obliged to pretend that this is not the case.
Overall, the feedback Graeber received from readers indicated: Bullshit jobs tend to be prestigious roles that make their incumbents feel miserable.
Examples of Bullshit Jobs
According to the author, over 50% of jobs in our economy are of the bullshit kind. So, there’s a good chance everyone had, has or will have a bullshit job at some point in their lives. They fall into five categories:
- Flunkies such as receptionists make their superiors feel special.
- Goons such as PR consultants are hired as counterparts to other goons.
- Duct tapers such as proofreaders specialise in makeshift solutions that make up for a superior’s incompetence.
- Box tickers such as in-house magazine journalists create the illusion that something of value has been produced.
- Taskmasters such as middle managers are experts in creating work nobody asked for.
I’m sure one or two categories look familiar to you. Personally, I have considerable experience as a duct-taping goon. Philosophical Chmess players are probably closest to being taskmaster. And if they’re being really honest, many employees end up putting most of their energy into creating the illusion that they’re adding something of value to society. Apparently, some of Graeber’s respondees even went as far as to say the world would be a better place if their entire profession didn’t exist. Ouch.
The Purpose of Bullshit Jobs
Graeber hypothesised that the purpose of these professions is to make sure there’s enough work for everyone in a capitalist society. Artificial inflation of the supply side of the job market so to speak. Unsurprisingly, he’s a proponent of a universal basic income model that would allow people to escape their misery and do the things they actually love. I guess things like writing critical thinking blogs.
Indeed, the labour market can seem a bit like a job laundering scheme. Create a new role. Get enough people trained and working in said role. And low and behold it becomes a legitimate profession. Coming up with new Bullshit Jobs is just as easy as inventing Chmess. All you need to do is change enough about a well-known profession to render it seemingly useless. Being a lifeguard is a pretty useful job. Being a lifeguard at the Summer Olympics? Not so much.
It seems like the rise of bullshit jobs is a result of professionalisation and the specialisation of roles in our economy. Driven by growth and, ironically, the desire for efficiency, the system has created specialists who are so far removed from a company’s bottom line that their value-add cannot be easily measured. It seems like this mess grew organically. Similar to the stuff you accumulate in your household over the years. It all had some purpose when you bought it. Anyhow, there seems to be a genuine need to avoid playing such meaningless games – current or future.
How to Stop Chmess-ing Around
So what do you do if it seems like you‘re trapped in a game of Chmess? Everyone around you appears as if they have succumbed to groupthink when it comes to the raison d‘être of your work. Well, Dennett has developed a simple test.
The Chmess Test
As a starter, it may be a good strategy to assume that you‘re wrong about the uselessness of your work. It’s the easiest explanation after all. And changing yourself is easier than changing others, let alone a whole profession. If that’s really not an option, though, Dennett’s Chmess test can be easily applied to any kind of bullshit job:
One good test to make sure you’re not just exploring the higher-order truths of chmess is to see if people aside from philosophers actually play the game. Can anybody outside of academic philosophy be made to care whether you’re right about whether Jones’ counterexample works against Smith’s principle?
Another such test is to try to teach the stuff to uninitiated undergraduates. If they don’t ‘get it’, you really should consider the hypothesis that you’re following a self-supporting community of experts into an artifactual trap.Daniel C. Dennett
Applying the Chmess Test
Being stuck in a seemingly bullshit job you could ask yourself: Can anybody outside your line of work be made to care about the difficulties of finding a cover photo for the next issue of your in-house journalistic masterpiece? Can someone see the value in you drafting and sending mundane personal emails on behalf of your boss? If mentioning your job turns out to be a conversation stopper at parties, you get another useful data point.
As for Dennett’s second suggestion, try to get a hold of an intern, apprentice or undergraduate in your field, a switched-on future talent. If you can’t find one, a potential co-worker will do just fine. Don’t sugarcoat or undersell your job. Explain to them what you do, how you do it and to what effect and see how they react. What’s the point? is a reaction you wouldn’t expect from explaining your job as a paramedic.
If we concur with Dennett’s argumentation, the reality check can’t come from an insider. The innocence of the uninitiated is best suited to dispel the illusion that your profession is as pointless as studying the intricacies of Chmess.
Of course, this is all a bit hyperbolic. Our jobs may instinctively strike us as meaningless when in reality they’re just a bad fit for our preferences and abilities. We may have fallen into an intuitive trap that led us to the easy conclusion instead of the right one. After all, it’s more convenient to expect a whole profession to change or disappear than adapt ourselves in a bid to escape competition through authenticity.
But if our job is well and truly killing our souls and doesn’t pass the Chmess test, maybe it’s time for a change. We’ve done the hard part by realising it. Changing a small detail was all it took to turn chess into a game nobody cared about. Imagine what we could do with our bullshit job if we changed another small detail in the right direction.