EdwardO'Brien

Edward O'Brien is a retired professor of philosophy and literature at Delaware Valley College in Pennsylvania.

One afternoon, John sat before his chess- board, idly moving the sculpted figures through their infinite variations, as he mused over the changes wrought all round him by the Feminist Ascendancy. How far would Big Sister go in her attempt to remake the world? Even in the quiet of his study, he seemed to hear the howling harpies uttering their dogmatic cries. He seemed to see them buzzing around his chessboard, scrutinizing his every move ... and a horrifying thought came to him.

Chess, the game he so loved. Chess, in all its ancient splendor. Was even chess not safe? Would the Furies swoop down upon the royal game, befoul the board, and snatch up in their talons the chessmen (pardon me, ma'am, I mean the chess pieces)?

John thought of the stained-glass windows of his parish church. They had just been removed and discarded by the new parish administrator, Sister Sue, because she saw them as embarrassing holdovers from the past. Suddenly John could see the romance of chess in the same glowing but traditional colors. Windows, architecture, games - all can reflect the mores and manners of a particular time. Chess - so old-fashioned, so magical, so impractical and elfish - could easily tempt a Commissar Sue of the People's Revolutionary Committee on Games to do some ideological cleansing.

John grimly imagined the claims that could be brought against his beloved game. It would be said that the bishop is a Catholic figure, that the pawn is really a footsoldier of the old Roman imperial legion or a medieval army, and that the rook or castle with its dungeons is a symbol of cruelty and authoritarianism. The feminists would surely say that chess is sexist. John could hear their doctrinaire screeching, "There's only one female figure, the queen. All the other pieces are male, including the castle, that symbol of male hegemony. And the point of the game is to capture the king! Unjust! The entire chessboard reeks of a militaristic, sexist world we are dismantling. Chess is a poorly disguised bastion of recidivist patriarchal aggression."

The feminists would summon the Language Police, and the word cops might conclude the indictment: "Consider the pieces! Chess is medieval. Look at all this old Eurocentric society it reflects, the hierarchy and rigid class distinctions. This game keeps alive the evil of classism, and perpetuates elitism, snobbery, and aristocracy. These kings, queens, bishops, knights, rooks, and pawns must go. They are the vanished roles of a wretched society. They offend modern, democratic people. Away with this retrograde pastime!"

John winced as a bizarre tableau rose up in his mind. Yes, there it was

Politically Correct Chess

The King replaced by the Matriarch in white robes.

• The Queen replaced by the High Priestess in Wiccan robe and black pentagram.
• The Bishop replaced by the Harlequin, a clownish figure in motley.
• The Castle replaced by the Casa, a suitably utilitarian house, stripped of all pretension.
• The Knight replaced by the Amazon, a female warrior on horseback, charging.
• The Pawn replaced by the Helot, a male slave, dressed in rags.

In P.C. Chess, one rule would, of course, be dropped: What used to be called the queening of the pawn when the pawn reached the eighth rank would not be allowed, for a Helot could never become High Priestess. John smiled at the thought that P.C. Chess would still have a hierarchy and would retain one martial piece. But it was little comfort, for he knew that in the egalitarian feminist world, some people are more equal than others and, since in that world compassion justifies all, the Amazon woman warrior would be not a soldier under orders but a freelance compassionate killer.

Surely, John thought, some progressive company will have P.C. Chess in the stores by this Christmas - uh, make that Holiday Season - for, truly, P.C. Chess is an idea whose time has come.

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