Annals of Wasted Lives, II: The Tennis Queen

It’s been almost exactly two years since I wrote my first post in the “Annals of Wasted Lives” series; I try to wait until really solid examples come my way. That time has come.


In a press conference on March 18, Marion Bartoli, the #1 tennis player in France, claimed to have an IQ of 175.

This is quite the claim. The average person has an IQ of 100; an IQ of 132 will get you into Mensa. An IQ of 175 would be about 5 standard deviations above the mean for intelligence, putting Ms. Bartoli in the range of the 99.99997th percentile of intelligence; put another way, she would be 1 person in about 3.33 million in terms of intellectual ability.* A Yahoo! sports blog claims that an IQ of 175 would exceed the IQs of Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison. (I myself am aware of no reliable figures for the IQs of these people.)

Let’s mention one issue just to set it aside. I was trained to assess intelligence professionally as part of my doctoral training in psychology, and I am aware of no intelligence test that reliably assesses intelligence above about 150; one might wonder what test was supposedly given to Ms. Bartoli as a child.

But there is a much larger question here: If Ms. Bartoli really possesses a 1-person-in-3.33-million intellect, what is she doing playing tennis?

The world we live in is beset by major challenges: war; terrorism; climate change; poverty; famine; disease; economic upheaval; crime; illiteracy; a myriad of unsolved scientific mysteries and obstacles to technological progress, not to mention problems created by technological progress. Someone possessing an intellect like Ms. Bartoli claims to have should be working primarily on these issues, and playing killer tennis on the weekends.

Am I being judgmental here? Yessiree! Hang on, the best is yet to come.

Individuals like Ms. Bartoli seem focused on their own glory and wealth. In plain words, hers is a self-centered, selfish, even narcissistic quest. Nothing she does will make one life better except her own, and the lives of those on whom she spends money. This is a hollow life, a life of meaningless achievement and acquisition. Absolutely nothing of any greater purpose hinges on whether Ms. Bartoli wins or loses her next match.

But so what? Where do I get off, making judgments like this? Where I take off from is a principle, one that I described at some length in my first post in this series: Our lives are not our own. We owe it to the human race to make the world better than how we found it. On this basis, one has to judge Ms. Bartoli’s life as sorely wanting.

I don’t expect that this post will make one iota of difference to Ms. Bartoli, who almost certainly will never read these words. However, my hope is that my rude words will serve to make us reflect on the direction of our own lives, and the purposes that our actions serve. Because our lives really are not our own; we really do owe something to the world and humanity.

Geniuses—self-proclaimed or otherwise—who withhold their talents from addressing the world’s need are definitely not On The Mark.

[The photo of Marion Bartoli at the 2009 U.S. Open was taken on August 31 of that year by Robbie Mendelson. It was obtained through Wikimedia Commons and appears here under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic License.]

*William M. Meredith, Basic Mathematical and Statistical Tables for Psychology and Education (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1967), p. 187, calculated from figures regarding z equal to ± 5.00.

Copyright 2011 Mark E. Koltko-Rivera. All Rights Reserved.

Ted Kennedy: A Lesson From the Presidency That Could Have Been

As I write these words, the world has just learned that Senator Ted Kennedy has died. Whatever one thinks of the late Senator's politics, all will agree that he was a major figure in American politics over the last half-century, and that his passing is a moment to show respect for a great public servant.

I'll go along with all of that. As it happens, I agree with much of Senator Kennedy's politics, so his passing means that much more to me. However, I bring up his passing here for another reason, a reason that is every bit as much personally relevant to you, the reader, as it is to me.

We'll read a lot over the next few days about the great Senator that Ted Kennedy was. However, we should also consider the great President that he might have been. Kennedy's Presidency­-that-wasn­'t, and the personal choices that derailed that Presidency, carry an important lesson for each of us.

I was a very young man in the summer of 1969. It was an almost surreal summer, with its constellation of watershed events of cultural and even cosmic significance, all of which I followed eagerly as I read the Rocky Mountain News and watched Walter Cronkite on television while visiting with my uncle's family in Denver. This was the summer of the landing of Apollo 11 on the moon, the summer of the Charles Manson murder spree, the summer of Woodstock--and the summer of Chappaquiddick.

The broad details of the Chappaquiddick incident are well known. Senator (yes, even then, Senator) Kennedy was attending a reunion party for some of the female workers on his late brother's presidential campaign. (Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated over a year earlier, during this campaign.) Other men were in attendance at the party as well. As Kennedy later reported it, shortly before midnight, one of the women, Mary Jo Kopechne, asked him to drive her back to her hotel. On the way, Kennedy drove off a bridge; he escaped the car, while she did not. Kennedy did not report the incident until Ms. Kopechne's body was discovered, late the next morning.

There have been unanswered questions for many years about many aspects of this incident--but this is not the place to go into them. I would rather dwell on another aspect of this tragic incident. In doing this, I mean no slight to Ms. Kopechne or her memory. However, there are other issues to consider here, issues usually ignored.

Most commentators agree that the incident at Chappaquiddick ended Ted Kennedy's presidential ambitions. At the very least, Kennedy made a monumental error in judgment in not contacting the authorities immediately after he drove off the bridge into the water.

But what if he hadn't?

What if he had known better than to even put himself, a 37-year-old married man, in a car alone, late at night, with a 29-year-old single woman?

Beyond that, what if he'd reported the accident immediately--thereby possibly saving Ms. Kopechne's life, and definitely showing his willingness to risk his reputation to try to do so?

We just might have had a President Ted Kennedy in 1972, instead of the second presidential term of Richard Nixon. A Kennedy presidency at this time might have ended the Vietnam War years sooner, saving hundreds or thousands of American lives. A President Ted Kennedy might have given us an enlightened energy policy back in the Seventies, when the oil embargo of 1973 demonstrated conclusively the dangers of America depending on foreign-supplied fossil fuels.

Perhaps even more intriguing, we might have elected a President Ted Kennedy in 1980. (In real life, Ted Kennedy lost the Democratic nomination to Jimmy Carter in 1980.) We might have avoided the Reagan years and the first Bush Presidency altogether, along with the legacy of those years: the disastrous consequences for education, the environment, civil rights, foreign policy, the rule of law, and the national deficit (remember 'Star Wars'? and I don't mean the movie).

But we didn't get that. Instead, a few seemingly minor personal choices affected the course of American history, and arguably the history of the world.

The poet John Greenleaf Whittier wrote that

For of all sad words of tongue or pen
The saddest are these:
"It might have been."

And so it is. Both the Rocky Mountain News and Walter Cronkite have passed into history, and now so has Senator Ted Kennedy. We shall never know what a Ted Kennedy Presidency would have accomplished. However, we can know this:

At some time, each of us will face what I will forever after call "Kennedy's choice": a seemingly minor personal choice where a lapse of good judgment can have far-reaching consequences, consequences that can change one's life--maybe many lives.

What if everyone behaved as if their choices could affect history? Sure, we might have some interesting stories disappear from our lives. However, overall, we would avoid oceans of heartbreak and missed opportunity. Beyond that, our power to contribute to our own success, to the prosperity and well-being of our communities, even to our nation and world, would be vastly increased.

We need to have the perspective that our lives are not our own. Some in the world would have us believe that our life is nothing but an opportunity for personal pleasure, personal enjoyment. We need a higher perspective here. I would submit to you that each of us has received our life in stewardship, an opportunity to do the most possible to improve the world in which we are placed. From this perspective, we just don't do things that could impede our ability to be useful, to ourselves, to our families, to our communities, to our world, to all the people who do or could depend on us--now or some day--to help them, even if that help is just to give them a good example.

So that's the lesson that I propose we consider taking within ourselves on this sad day. Do the right thing. Act with integrity, in things large and small. Act in private with the same values we would have if our behavior were broadcast to the Jumbotron in Times Square. Be the same person when we are alone that we are in public. Avoid even the appearance of impropriety. It's about integrity; it's about character.

I will miss Senator Kennedy. I mourn his passing; I admire him for the kind of man he ultimately became. But I cannot help but be haunted by what might have been. That's a lesson I want to apply to my own life for a long, long time.

The post is an elaboration of a comment that I made on The Huffington Post today. Read the Article at HuffingtonPost.

[The image of the late Senator Kennedy is in the public domain, and was obtained from Wikipedia.]

Annals of Heroism, 1: A Way to Die, A Way to Live

Your correspondent is typically a pretty optimistic fellow, not a morbid sort. However, death is part of life, and the last nine months or so I've had death come to mind more than usual, what with the death of a parent, and now, of course, the swine flu outbreak in Mexico; even one of the family cats died. An incident mentioned in the news today reminded me that, although we have no choice but to die, we have a great deal of choice in the how of it all.

This video and this report from news organizations in Florida tell the story of 70-year-old Mr. Charles Schulze. Mr. Schulze noticed two boys, 9 and 12 years old, caught in the currents and about to drown, off Pompano Beach in Florida (pictured). According to the reports, Mr. Schulze dove in, and brought both the boys close enough in to shore for others to bring them the last bit to safety. Unfortunately, then he was at trouble in the currents himself. Although rescued, he was declared dead at the hospital.

There are lessons to be learned here.

First lesson: One needs to be prepared for the moment of trial, when it comes. My guess is that Mr. Schulze was in pretty good shape for 70 years old, to be able to swim out into the surf and save those two boys. When one sees the struggling swimmers out in the current, it's a little too late to start laying off the snack food, a little too late to start the exercise and swimming program. The trial comes when it comes; at that point, the time for preparation is past. However it is that one feels about matters of spirituality, surely the parable of the wise and foolish guests (Matthew 25: 1-13) has applicability across traditions.

Second lesson, probably the most important: Be a hero, to someone. As I have said before, our lives are not our own. Be oriented to helping people.

This so flies in the face of the prevailing ethics of the modern world: 'Look out for Number 1,' 'Make your pile,' 'Take the money and run,' 'Every man for himself.' That Mr. Schulze is being called a hero is unimportant; unfortunately, soon enough that will be forgotten. However, even the very last hour of his life had meaning and purpose that transcended the accomplishments of all the media Idols that shall ever be, all the bonuses that the so-called Masters of the Universe in the financial world have been pouting and shouting about.

I am reminded of the statement in the Talmud, the accumulated written wisdom of the rabbis of about twenty centuries ago: "whoever saves a life, it is considered as if he saved an entire world." Everything good that these two boys could ever do for the rest of their lives, every descendant they could ever have, at that moment hung by a thread over the Abyss--and then Mr. Schulze saved their lives.

Third lesson: Don't be afraid to die doing good. The point of life is not to live forever--at least, not as the kind of beings we are now. Whether your beliefs point in the direction of the Hindu Atman; the traditional Jewish, Christian, or Islamic heaven; the Buddhist Nirvana or Pure Land; the Wiccan Summerlands; the LDS notion of Eternal Life; many other traditions besides--whatever spiritual tradition claims your attention, the point of life is to improve oneself, even to perfect oneself, through service to others. There may be much else besides, but every tradition will claim at least this much, I think. It's not about getting the most toys, or playing the life game of Pig-in-Trough, as Robert de Ropp put it in that 1960s masterpiece, The Master Game. The point is to live one of the central paradoxes of human life: by becoming someone other than we started life as--the self-centered infant, of whatever age--we become who we really are meant to be. To die doing good: the perfect endgame in the Great Game. It is how I would want to go. I hope I have the preparation and the guts to follow through on that wish.

Fourth lesson: Don't be afraid to do good after you die, either. The fact of the matter is, we can all give someone life through our deaths. We might not all have a moment of final, dramatic heroism. But how about being a hero to someone through organ donation? (Let's face it, folks--you're not going to be using them any more.) Sure, it may make you squeamish--but it can give sight to the blind, air to those short of breath, life to those whose hearts are giving out.

Having a life that means something, even in one's death: That may be the most on-the-mark of all.

(The picture, by Friejose, is from the Wikimedia Commons, reproduced under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License.)

Annals of Wasted Lives, I: The Poker King

The March 30 issue of The New Yorker carries Alec Wilkinson's article profiling Chris Ferguson (pictured), the first person to win a prize of more than $1 million in a poker tournament (the 2000 World Series of Poker), and the co-founder of one of the most profitable on-line poker sites ever launched. Ferguson is unusual even among poker grandmasters for his application of John Von Neumann's mathematical game theory to poker, which has allowed Ferguson to develop an "optimal strategy" for poker. Of course, Ferguson comes from an unusual background: his mother obtained a doctorate in mathematics, as did his father, who taught game theory and theoretical probability at UCLA; Ferguson himself holds a doctorate in computer science from UCLA.

Chris Ferguson, 46 next week, is a brilliant man. To date, he has won more than $7 million playing poker, and reportedly has earned even more than that just through his on-line poker business ventures. Financially, he is wildly successful--and he is wasting his life.

In Chris Ferguson, we have a certifiable hyper-genius, called "one of the more brilliant and creative young men that I've known in my career at U.C.L.A." by his doctoral thesis adviser. (That adviser knows brilliance when he sees it; he is Leonard Kleinrock, whose lab helped develop the Internet.) But to what is Ferguson applying this brilliance? He's playing cards.

We live in a world that faces problems, nasty problems, horrifying problems, human-species-extinction-scale problems. A short list: global terrorism, the threat of bioweapons and suitcase nukes in private hands, famine, weird weather (likely caused by global warming), worst-ever inequities between economic classes, religious extremism that foments suicide attacks and warfare, lack of intercultural understanding, illiteracy, innumeracy, the resurgence of antibiotic-resistant infections, lack of affordable healthcare, a global economy sliding towards a New Depression, kids dying from dysentery and other preventable diseases, by the thousands, daily--hey, asteroids from space. And what's this guy doing? Playing cards.

Yes, I can imagine what some readers are thinking: "If this is a way to waste your life--count me in!" However, before you sign up yourself or your kids for Poker Camp this summer, let me point out a few things.

Our lives are not our own. Every reputable philosophical, spiritual, or religious position holds that people have a responsibility to give back, to do something for the world with their talents. Ferguson--who has sometimes signed autographs as 'Jesus' because of his looks, although reportedly he is an atheist--would do well to consider the real Jesus' parable of the servants (Bible, New Testament, Luke chapter 12), which carries the memorable phrase, "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required" (Luke 12:48). Or, if you prefer, as the Spider-Man comic put it, "with great power comes great responsibility." Abraham Maslow, one of the greatest psychologists of the 20th century--himself an atheist--found that an even higher level of motivation than self-actualization (or expressing one's own talents) is self-transcendence, that is, furthering some cause or purpose beyond one's own needs. Few people are better equipped to make a contribution to society at large than Chris Ferguson. But he's playing cards.

I have to wonder what Ferguson's stunning intellect could accomplish in the world. Game theory applies to all sorts of behavior, such as negotiations between groups; in this globalized world, where mistrustful groups face one another left and right, perhaps game theory might help to promote better outcomes in cultural encounters and ethnic conflicts. One might use game theory to better understand the way the stock market melted down recently, to promote better social stability and prosperity for all. Going way out on a limb, I wonder about the application of game theory to evolutionary theory and, in turn, to theories about the development (and thus the treatment) of infectious diseases. (Do cells negotiate amongst themselves? Do species?) I cannot come up with all the ways that Chris Ferguson might apply his prodigious intelligence to the problems of the world--but apply them he certainly might. Nah--he's playing cards.

Perhaps I misunderstand Chris Ferguson. Perhaps he spends his free time working on the mathematics of innovative cures for cancer. If so, I beg his pardon. Based on the known facts, I don't think so.

Isn't this all terribly judgmental? You bet! That's social commentary--and life: applying standards and passing judgment. Working from a reflective perspective just means that I apply standards like "our lives are not our own." The point is not to beat up on Chris Ferguson, but to encourage a more thoughtful approach to life on everyone's part.

On that basis--the idea that one ought to use one's natural gifts for the good of humanity--I'm sorry to say that Chris Ferguson is NOT On The Mark.

Reference

Wilkinson, A. (2009, March 30). What would Jesus bet? The New Yorker, pp. 30-35.