The world of permanent interests

This phenomenon of shifting allegiances is common even in the 21st century, says the author

The fascinating Japanese game of shogi is a variant of chess. It has many similarities, while being even more mathematically complex. Shogi is played on a monochrome 9x9 board, using tiles inscribed with ideographs. These tiles move in geometric ways similar to chess. The object of the game is exactly the same — it is to capture the opponent’s king.  

One important difference adds a poisonously realistic twist: When a piece is captured, it changes sides. It can be put back on the board and used by the player who has captured it. This indicates the pragmatism that lay at the foundations of the highfalutin Japanese philosophy of bushido — the way of the Samurai.

In the realpolitik of medieval Japan, people changed sides all the time, often in the battlefield. This was, of course, also true for most other mediaeval cultures. It is hard for instance, for historians to keep track of the bewildering complexity of Rajput factions.

At any given instant over a period of centuries, several Rajput kingdoms would be at war with each other. The alliances between them kept shifting. Those Rajput clans also intermarried on a regular basis. Similar things happened in Europe where the royals married each other, even as they sent their armies off to kill each other.

This phenomenon of shifting allegiances is common even in the 21st century. Indeed, the axiom that nations have no permanent allies, only permanent interests, underlines the realism of shogi.  Brexit is an interesting example of ideological, and literal, floor-crossing.

We’ve seen British MPs switch sides so many times that it is now nearly impossible to understand (A) Who wants Brexit, or wishes to “Remain” in the European Union (B) On what terms the “leavers” want Brexit and (C) How ideologically committed any UK politician actually is, to the concept of either leaving the EU, or remaining in it.

The lack of ideological consistency, or the willingness to abandon consistency, when it impacts self-interest, seems to be hard-wired into human DNA. It’s visible at many socio-political levels and at multiple scales.

Think of a tree. It has branches. The branches themselves have sub-systems of smaller branches. This is an example of a fractal — an object, which remains complex, even when the scale of observation changes.

The human propensity to change sides is similarly fractal. Children in the same family, or in the kindergarten classroom, form shifting cliques. Large nations sign treaties and tie up alliances. Those childish cliques change. Those national alliances break up. Similar events also play out in boardrooms and political parties.

It happens so often, and at so many levels, that one must assume that this trait confers some sort of evolutionary advantage. Most people seek to find rationalisations for switching sides, rather than simply saying that they have acted in what they see as self-interest.

Politicians are especially hypocritical about this. Winston Churchill, the arch-conservative British bulldog, switched political parties and abandoned his monarch (Edward, Duke of Windsor) when it suited him.

In another less famous instance I recall, a prominent politician from Bengal gave a rousing speech where he claimed the sun would rise in the West, before he switched political parties. A week later, he was on the other side of the fence and claiming with equal fervour that he would never switch again! Of course, he did. If rumour is to be believed, he was paid a large “signing fee” on each occasion.

We often see variations on this theme. It is not a phenomenon restricted to India. Italy and Israel, for example, have more complicated versions of the same floor-crossing games. Of course, the trait is not universal. Some people remain consistent to their principles and rarely switch. But they are outliers.

The entire concept of democracy is based on an understanding that large number of people do change their views and hence, vote-share shifts. Which brings us back to shogi. How do you capture the hearts and minds of voters? It’s considerably more complicated than capturing tiles in shogi.