I feel like the only disagreement here is over the words "punish" and "instinctive". An instinct can be trying to punish- like taking the eye of the elephant, which is trying to punish your opponent for making a bad shape- and like trying to punish, instincts are sometimes unreasonable- like taking the eye of the elephant, when the elephant jump is the correct shape.

Perhaps. But then what distinguishes moves that try to punish from normal moves, and what separates necessary punishments from unreasonable punishments? The only point that I take to separate my view and Mnemonic's (and maybe yours as well) is that Mnemonic thinks there is some difference in attitude between players who fall for hamete and players who avoid them, because there is some clear difference between the first moves of the trap variation and of the refutation; whereas my interpretation of hamete, so far, is that the only way to know that the trap variation is unreasonable is either (i) to read out the entire variation, proving to yourself that the initial instinct was unreasonable, or (ii) to memorize the entire variation, so that you can play it or refute it at will.

That's almost exactly my understanding of hamete. If there's an basic instinct type of response that avoids the trap, I would not have thought to call it hamete.

The only sort of tricky terminological point is where there's an obvious submissive move that avoids the trap. If it's easy to see that the trick variation will cause complications, then I'd think it's not hamete--it's just giving you a choice between complications and safety. If the trick variation looks really safe until you end up with a horrible result, then that's my idea of hamete.

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Occupy Babel!

Not quite. I think there are 3 different types (or strengths) of player when it comes to hamete. The intervals and ranges are different for each player and each trick play but I believe it can be generalized as such:

1) The player is completely unfamiliar with the play and does not know how to respond. He will probably try to play it safe and "whether the storm". He will of course lose points, but mostly because he played passively or inconsistently, not because he has fallen for the trick play (I'm saying he avoids the standard variation and plays it save. This looses points but probably not as much as in stage 2) If you think this category does not exist because it would be "natural" to cut the 2 space jump in the 19 trick play, ask yourself: would you have played the same move at 10k, or 20k?

2) The player has gotten stronger and can read far enough to see the honey pot. He will seize the opportunity and "punish" the opponent for the overplay. This will likely result in a significant loss.

3) the player is strong enough to read the trick play to the end or he has memorized it.

Note: I'm not disagreeing with your last assessment. I'm just suggesting that you need a certain level to fall for the trap. Even if your first instinct is to cut, you might not play the sequence to its end and be better off.

Yes, but until you can even read out the "bad" variation of a trick play you are probably in your mid to low kuys. Hametes are design to be reading problems so that the "normal" player (5k-2k) falls for it. This means it the "wrong" variation has to be sufficiently complex to intrigue a 3k and the true variation a couple stones harder. That's why I came up with my categorization.

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While I was teaching the game to a friend of mine, my mother from the other room:
"Cutting? Killing? Poking out eyes? What the hell are you playing?"

Okay... then I think we agree on the essentials. But if so, it follows that we agree that learning hamete is not especially valuable unless (i) you really, really care about your win-loss ratio and (ii) you are hoping to plateau at 2k-5k.

(For about the third time, I want to disclaim that this is how I see hamete. Kageyama disagrees, and I'm sure many other people I respect do as well, and I would be happy to be shown the other side. If it's valuable for pros to study and use hamete, then clearly the core conception that Mnemonic, hyperpape and I agree on is flawed.)

I don't quite believe we agree. (i) I think trick plays are an important weapon in your arsenal and you should strive to maintain and improve it (even topazg agrees on this, even if he condemns the actual use. Think of it as nuclear weapons ) If you recognize the actual use of trick plays (which I think every 1d+ has) you have to also learn how to use them. Trick plays are like so many other areas of go: you can't just read a book and think you know everything there is to know. You have to test your knowledge in battle!

(ii) Now I respect topazg point of view mostly because he is strong enough to actually read through a difficult sequence and because he admitted to studying trick plays. But I think it is essential for a player with dan ambition to study trick plays.

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While I was teaching the game to a friend of mine, my mother from the other room:
"Cutting? Killing? Poking out eyes? What the hell are you playing?"

Well, Alexander Dinerchtein did write a book on it, New Moves, which is a collection of trick plays from his hamete.net site. It was announced here and reviewed here by John Fairbairn.

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Patience, grasshopper.

Just to clarify, I agree completely with mnemonic's latest post. I think it is very important to learn and understand hamete, just as I think it is very important to learn and understand joseki. However, knowing that hamete are fundamentally suboptimal moves means I will not play them unless I have a reason or idea to use them that I consider optimal (i.e. global situations make them not hamete, as shaddy referred to earlier).

The essence of a trick play is that you know something, your opponent doesn't, and this gives you an advantage. Would it be better if no such situations ever occured?

Not quite. Your definition applies to far more than trick plays. Trick plays, in addition to what you mentioned, must be moves which you know are wrong if your opponent plays correctly. Simply knowing, for example, how to kill the J-group while your opponent doesn't has no element if trickery in it. That's just a difference in skill.

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We don't know who we are; we don't know where we are.
Each of us woke up one moment and here we were in the darkness.
We're nameless things with no memory; no knowledge of what went before,
No understanding of what is now, no knowledge of what will be.

This reminds me of the beautiful distinction in japanese of Do vs Jutsu in martial arts.

Kendo, the art of the sword, is different than Kenjutsu, the martial way of the sword, even though these two share forms, movements, and stances, their goals, and thus the range of actions they employ, differ greatly.

It is a subtlety that we westerners often miss, but to study to Do of something, it is to study the art within the function, the beautiful cut, the perfect match. Winning a Kendo match is less important than mastering yourself within it. Do is the reflection of yourself upon an activity, or the reflection of the activity on yourself.

Jutsu is the martial way, the side of study concerned with results and perfection of technique. In jutsu forms of martial arts, life and death are your goals, defense, the understanding of movement and body, these are the primary goals. A beautiful move may be eschewed for its lack of pure function, even though, in the hands of a master, functional moves may be beautiful.

The discussion is about igoDo and igoJutsu here. Are you playing for some deeper vision of the game, bringing into it your own self, with all your morality and philosophy attached, or are you playing for the applied focus of the game, the cutting win?

I myself play igoDo more than igoJutsu. A jutsu must be grounded in all or nothing, in safety through violence, in peace through transcending conflict, or it loses its immediacy. As much as I love go, and as much as I hate losing, (And I do. A lot.) I will never have the focus, nor the intensity to make Go my Jutsu.

A Do may appreciate even the conflict as a beautiful thing, and view it as a crucible to refine ourselves in. In fact, in deep understanding of an igodo, you may find beauty within hamate, and worry not at all for the punishment of them, only take joy in the testing probe of a strike never intended to cut. Or in an igojutso, you may eschew hamete for being weak strikes which may be blocked. But I feel more people who play igodo may be opposed to the 'dark' side of trick plays, where they feel as though they have played beneath their own concept of beauty in playing them.