But the bluff cannot be sustained throughout a hand, or sustained over the course of several hands, by betting alone. There are a myriad of other facets to successful bluffing, which includes the demeanor of the player. Does he appear too confident? Is that confidence a sign of bluffing, or is it a ruse to sucker the other players into thinking the bluffer is bluffing when in fact he is not? The deception involved in a bluff is clearly more subtle than that involved in a lie. In poker, the bluffer makes a representation which is intended to be perceived by the other players, and the bluffer intends that the other players be deceived. But the bluff may consist of any number of verbal or nonverbal cues, including but not limited to essential elements of the game itself. The other players, if they are even the least bit experienced, recognize that all of the other players’ cues are potentially deceptive, but that they may also be completely on target. Successful players avoid a consistent pattern of such cues if they wish to win over time.
Al Alvarez, in his excellent book The Biggest Game in Town, describes the championship poker player’s almost paranormal ability to pick up the subtle, subliminal cues of others, and to read the bluff, “. . . since one of the gifts that separate the professionals from the amateurs is the ability to read their opponents’ hands with uncanny accuracy from the tiniest clues: timing, position, the way the fingers move the chips, even the pulse beat of their neck.”2 Online there are none of these cues, and the bluff is so shrouded by distance and technology, that it simply is not the same act as in real life.
This is why watching poker is so interesting, and informative. A number of good players have entered professional poker late in life, based only upon watching others play. If all there were to bluffing was the bet, then everyone would become an expert based upon some discernable betting-bluffing algorithm. Successful bluffers must certainly establish some degree of credibility to pull off a good bluff, which means they have to actually play some good hands, fold when the odds and a hand favor folding, and occasionally mix it up with a successful bluff. The successful betting bluff will best be pulled off by a number of concurrent acts, or the subtle nonverbal cues that other players pick up on in order to facilitate the deception by the bluffer.
There are numerous books, articles, TV shows, and other helpful materials out there designed to teach the “art” of bluffing. All of them agree on one point: it is an art. The successful bluff-artist creates a mystique which works to his advantage. First, his reputation for winning on a risky bluff entices others to play against him in the hopes of calling him on a bluff. This vulnerability means that players won’t simply tighten up every time the player sits at the table. Furthermore, it encourages other players to call him when it actually works to his advantage, and he is holding a winning hand. Bluffing, then, is not a simple one-time act, but an overarching strategy, and a mystique that follows a player around. The bet is perhaps the most important aspect of this, but also important are the player’s mannerisms in general, which viewers of poker championships can easily describe and distinguish from one player to another. Which leads us back to the question: Is it possible to bluff online?
Virtually Poker
In writing this chapter, I endured many hours of online poker. This sacrifice was not in vain. In all of these games, betting was the only means of bluffing. It is, of course, possible to bluff in the “chat” section in most online sites. One could, for example, type in “Wow, finally, a pair of Kings in the hole!” as a bluff. John Vorhaus writes that he once typed in gibberish to throw his opponents off. When he was reminded of the English-only rule, he later typed in “symptom System orange”.3 So obviously some forms of bluffing, or at least confusing acts of deception, are possible online. In Texas Hold’em, betting can occur at numerous phases, and the times and manner of the action, whether it is a check, a call, or a raise, can inform (or misinform) the other players as to the hand you hold. If you bet before the flop, it may indicate a good blind, or it may be part of a risky, early bluff. What you do with the flop may indicate whether you have improved significantly what you hold, in which case a good bluff might consist of not quite giving away this fact so that you improve the pot. Or, you may wish to convince others you have built well on the flop even when you haven’t in order to push others out of the hand. Your bets on the river similarly may either be designed to fool the others into folding in case you haven’t fared well by then, or if you have, to score the pot.
Texas Hold’em is a popular online game which allows for a fair amount of flexibility in bluffing. Everyone understands these potential strategies, and because online poker’s only clues to bluffing are the bets themselves, or fairly limited chatting, it cannot make up for the myriad other facets of an artful bluff that occur around a smoky table, surrounded by twitching poker faces, shuffling chips, and darting glances. Poker is a much more complicated social object than the sterile, two dimensional game played online. As well-known poker author Lou Krieger writes:
The impersonal, disembodied anonymity of the Internet demands play that is far more card-based than opponent-based. . . . Forget “playing the player” in the sense of detecting tells—particularly physical gestures, verbal clues, or betting mannerisms that serve as tip-offs about an opponent’s hand—preventing a bet or raise, cupping your chips as though ready to call, making hand movements yourself in a deceptive fashion, or staring down a bluff. You can’t “make a play” when you and your opponent are invisible to each other.4
In my many hours of online play, I never developed the feeling of playing poker I used to experience around a table. The physical and verbal tells that are so rewarding to perceive, and the joy of making a good bluff, were never quite the same.
Many poker players admit that playing poker online is good practice for playing at the table, and some of the best rising stars in poker got much of their training online. But online poker lacks the phenomenological completeness, and the personal satisfaction of the live, person-to-person game we know so well through popular culture. Online poker is not poker—it is a subset of the game, lacking features we necessarily consider to be part of the total game. These are the social features which we most frequently associate with poker’s portrayal in novels and movies.
The Social Ontology of Poker
We started with the question: what are the component pieces of the quintessential poker game? We defined the game itself as composed of its constitutive rules, including five cards, vying, lexically ordered hands, and betting. We added the essential component of bluffing, which is an outgrowth of vying, and defined it as something composed often of betting plus other verbal and nonverbal cues.
But Poker, as a game, is also an institution. An institution is a social continuant, or something which lasts over time, composed of rules which govern it, and culturally recognized conditions for its existence, including a group recognition of its form and validity. Similarly, the social institution we call the Justice System, is composed of rules which govern its use, composition, and authorities, as well as its limits. But it exists by virtue of the collective agreement of members of a society to abide by its rules, to recognize its authority, and to act toward it in certain ways. Aside from the elements we have already considered, poker exists as a social institution, with recognized means of conduct and recognition.
Among the things we socially expect from poker are illegal games played in hidden smoky back rooms of bars, or in private homes. But there are also rules of etiquette which are not technically rules of poker, but which contribute to the conditions we expect from poker games. Most of these rules are moot when it comes to online poker, and help to establish that online versions of the game lack certain essential characteristics we expect from the live version. These “rules” include: not acting out of turn, not splashing the pot, not touching other people’s cards or chips, not raking the pot, and so on.
Most games, in fact, enjoy the sorts of rules of etiquette discussed above, and exist as social objects more complicated than
the sum of their constitutive rules. Poker, however, has what we can best call a “mystique” which makes the online version a mere shadow of the actual game. The game itself cannot be replicated fully in an online environment where bluffing is mostly limited to betting. It is the bluff (which when properly conducted amounts to theater), which makes poker a special kind of vying game irreducible to its constitutive rules, and therefore such a pleasure and art form to play and to watch.
________
1 See the previous two chapters in this volume.
2 (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1983), p. 41.
3 Killer Poker Online: Crushing the Internet Game (New York: Kensington, 2003), p. 199.
4 http://www.cardplayer.com/poker_magazine/archives/showarticle.php?a_id=13211&m_id=61
14
Power Poker: Machiavelli and Brunson’s Super System
DAVID HAHN
Lying, greed, gambling, bluffing, deception, raising, and calling: these are the tools of the trade. It doesn’t matter what the others at the table are holding, it matters how they present it and what they do to secure what they are fighting for. Enough about politics though, this chapter is about poker and a certain philosopher who knew how to play the really big money games.
His name is Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527). As ambassador for the city of Florence, Italy, Machiavelli became a master at harnessing the power of political machinations. His most famous book, The Prince, advocates an almost amoral way of governing to secure power, an ideal that few people would admit to following. Unlike many philosophers of his day, Machiavelli draws from his own observations and experiences. “For many have pictured republics and principalities which in fact have never been known or seen, because how one lives is so far distant from how one ought to live, that he who neglects what is done for what ought to be done, sooner effects his ruin rather than his preservation . . .”1
In other words, the dream societies of Plato’s Republic and Augustine’s City of God are so far removed from the real world that they cannot be used as guides for politicians in dealing with crisis and turmoil. Not to say that these, or any utopias aren’t worth striving to create, but rather that they cannot be used for everyday living.
The word “Machiavellian” has entered our vernacular to such a degree that most spell check programs will correct the name Machiavelli to the adjective that is derived from it. The word refers to “a political doctrine which denies the relevance of morality in political affairs and holds that craft and deceit are justified in pursuing and maintaining political power.”2
Doyle Brunson is perhaps the most recognizable poker player on the circuit today, and his Super System has been the standard book on poker since 1978, when it first sold for $100 a copy. Over twenty-five years later, its sales steadily increase though the price tag has been mercifully slashed. The book is subtitled “A Course in Power Poker.” Like Machiavelli, Brunson endorses a sometimes ruthless approach to crushing the competition. Early in his book, Brunson announces, “I go into a Poker game with the idea of completely destroying it.”3 Can Machiavelli’s philosophy be applied to the poker table? Actually, it already has been, and Brunson’s book shows us how.
Foxes and Lions (Not Dogs) Playing Poker
With the exception of the final goal, there’s little difference between the poker table and the political table. Almost any negotiation is like a game of poker. Both parties want something from the other without giving up what they consider theirs. To succeed, one side must present itself as being stronger in order to secure its opponent’s desired possession.
In this situation one must rely on both cunning and strength to overcome the adversary. Machiavelli writes about the fox and the lion. The fox is known for its cunning; it avoids the traps of its enemies while laying snares of its own. But the fox is weak and is easily overpowered when directly confronted. This is where the lion steps in and with its terrible maw, destroys all that stands before it. But the lion is dimwitted and rushes foolishly into combat, relentlessly seeking the weaker hand, failing to realize that it may not be weakness that it perceives.
The fox is the bluffer, the one who slow plays a good hand to draw weaker hands into raising, and uses the appearance of strength to cause stronger hands to fold. The lion, on the other hand, is the player holding a hand with strong odds of victory seeking to crush the weaker players. The lion is the “Bully Chip Leader.” Perhaps no player can match his strength, but like all bullies, he can be outwitted. Neither one of these styles is beneficial on its own, but together they are exceptional.
With a strong hand a player should lure her opponents into the open where the strength of her hand will win the pot. Conversely, with a weak hand a player should feign strength to force her opponents to fold. This is the counsel of not only Machiavelli but also Sun Tzu who says, “When able, seem to be unable; when ready, seem to be unready. . .”4
Machiavelli’s purpose is to advise the statesman on how to conduct himself amongst his citizens and around his peers. Taking charge of a poker table is much like leading empires. There is no joint decision making to negotiate, no veto powers to fear, and no consensus to seek; the player is the prince of his empire and the sole arbiter of its fate. There is no peace at the poker table. No friendships, only opponents.
Dealing with Opponents
Against a constant threat of defeat the player must rely on wit and strength. Many people incorrectly believe that Machiavelli’s philosophy endorses crushing one’s enemies by any means necessary. This is not entirely true. While he recognizes that enemies need to be dealt with, Machiavelli does not recommend the use of indiscriminate force or excessive cruelty. The Prince guides the reader in the correct application of force on the correct targets, using the fox to draw out enemies and letting the lion loose upon them. The sword and fist should not be used on a whim, nor should the all-in raise.
Attack is always imminent. The Romans “knew that war is not to be avoided, and can only be put off to the advantage of the others” (The Prince, p. 12). This is not to say that we must foolishly rush into combat, but that once we are ready, we must attack. In this way we show both our strength and our resolve. This idea is also echoed in Sun Tzu who says, “Thus in war, I have heard tell of a foolish haste, but I have yet to see a case of cleverly dragging on hostilities” (The Art of War, p. 107).
Victory is ensured by swift attack, eliminating opponents. In a game of Texas Hold’em, when the flop gives you a hand you know will win and cut out the knees of one of your opponents, you must go for it. If you decide to prolong the game and spare him from immediate defeat, he may come back stronger in future hands. Even the player holding the smallest stack can still catch a card on the river and be right back in the game.
As Machiavelli says, attack must be decisive. This is not to say that you should always go all-in. “[N]ever should one risk the whole of one’s fortune on the success of but a part of one’s forces.”5 Carelessly risking all the chips on a single hand is a sure path to ruin. Even the overly aggressive Brunson rarely goes all-in on a bluff, without some outs. “I’m almost never completely out on a limb in a big pot,” he confesses (Super System, p. 422). But in the end, you still have to break your opponents before the blinds break you. When you are raking in the chips, take in enough of your opponents’ loot to weaken their opportunities for vengeance. In this way you ensure the security of your domain by destroying everyone else’s resources. As Mike McDermott (played by Matt Damon) reminds us in the movie Rounders, “It is immoral to let a sucker keep his money.”
By prolonging the harm done, your only real accomplishment is to sow the seeds of resentment and anger which will blossom into the fruits of vengeance. To maintain your position you must destroy an opponent as swiftly as possible. The 2005 World Series of Poker final table came down to three people: Joseph Hachem, Steve Dannenmann, and Tex Barch. At 5:45 on a Saturday morning, Barch was down to his last $7 million, a paltry sum compared to the other stacks of over $20 mil
lion. Barch was finished. As Poker Pages blogger Mike Paulle predicted, “The two others will be stomping on him now.” And so they did. The very next hand, they both called Barch’s bluff when he went all-in, leading to his hasty departure.
One should not enjoy dealing out punishments, but sometimes punishment is necessary. The gambler must not appear to enjoy winning too much, just as the Prince of a state must not gloat over the arrest or execution of his enemies. If one hundred people are arrested in one hundred days, the government looks oppressive, because the police presence appears omnipresent, even if the people being arrested and punished are guilty. Prolonging the agony is cruel and vindictive. While the people will marvel at that one day where one hundred citizens were arrested, the shock of the whole thing will pass. In poker, getting a reputation for being a bad winner makes other people less likely to play in your game. Gloating over a drawn-out poker victory is poor sportsmanship. And as Brunson reminds us, “That’s not only bad manners . . . it’s bad business” (p. 47).
Rather than prolonging victory, the better move is to take them all-in with one fell stroke. It sounds harsh and it most certainly is. Take this example into the political arena and it becomes all the harsher, especially in Machiavelli’s day. In his time punishments were severe. Executions, exiles, and torture were the standard. Machiavelli warns the rulers of his time that in confiscating another person’s property one must prepare for revenge. A person must often be made destitute and then exiled to prevent future revenge – brutal perhaps, though prudent. In fact, if a Prince is to be considered wise, he should not be afraid to be mean. A little meanness was fine by Machiavelli, and Brunson isn’t above it either. “Alligator blood” runs through the veins of a poker player who will “do anything within the rules to win” (p. 26). If aggression strikes fear in your opponents, so much the better.
Poker and Philosophy Page 18