Middle School Debate: Addressing Public Audiences

Here’s a video of a middle school debate we did today on the subject of whether students should have a say in the courses that they are required to take.

Debating for public audiences (i.e. non-“debate community” audiences) is something I am finding more and more important to my pedagogy every year. I think it’s because I am becoming more and more convinced that any debate format – every debate format – naturally becomes a gravity well of practices and performances that become so attractive that no utterance can escape their pull. In other words, specific style of speech used to win tournament rounds becomes indistinguishable from “good speech.”

In this debate, I think one move that would help the debaters reach the audience would be to speak more in enthymemes – something that we tell new debaters to stop doing at practice number one.  The other skill here would be to encourage debaters to switch from the deliberative to the epidictic mode of argument. This would be argument fit for a day of celebration, the here, the now, the immediate.  Most motions and most “good debates” (as seen by the competitive community) focus on questions of policy (Aristotle would call them subjects for deliberative oratory). Deliberation deals with decisions about the future, and most of these questions are about something far removed from us and where and when we are – questions of international relations, for example.  The question is how to teach using motions that highlight these two areas of need.

What practices can help debaters attend to the audience in front of them without bowing completely to an ethic of total assimilation to what the audience wants. The audience needs to see what good clash looks like, and needs alternative models of debate compared to what they normally see on TV and the like. This is where the competitive aspects of debate have developed some really good things. This is what we can export to public audiences – as long as we can keep them engaged and keep them listening.

American Debate Sediment 3: Argument “theory”

For those unfamiliar with American debating formats, you might be surprised to learn that built into several formats is the ability to engage your opponent on the rules of debate itself. You can argue that the argument your opponent(s) made violates the rules of good debating, hurts either your ability to debate fairly or your ability to “get something” out of the debate, or both, and they should lose because of it. This is called “argument theory,” but I like to put scare quotes around the “theory” part because I am deeply suspicious of the ability of this body of common beliefs and practices to serve as theory in any academic use of the term.

This type of debating we sometimes call meta-debate – debating about the rules of the debate – doesn’t happen that often in our big political debates. Occasionally you will find it – Newt Gingrich announcing that the purpose of the Republican debate a few weeks ago was not to have Republicans attack one another but to jointly attack Obama would be one moment. Perhaps another one would be whether or not we should televise certain trials, mostly because of the effect it would have on the arguments within the courtroom (audience, even one you are ignoring, has big impacts on how you do things).

In your interpersonal arguments, there’s much more meta-debate. Is it fair to bring up that time two years ago when you were particularly insensitive in this argument right now? Perhaps it is, if it’s evidence of a trend. But it might not be if it’s just a way to derail the deliberation you and your partner are having now. In the end, both partners are very interested in reaching some sort of agreement, or solving the issue in front of them, and accessing past arguments might not work like stare decisis. It more works as a way to communicate your anger or pain with your interlocutor.

Worlds format does not have any space for the meta-debate. There are places like this blog, or the Worlds Forum that was held in Botswana and will be held in Manila too. There are all those conversations we have in the hallways of tournaments, or in briefings about how debate should work. But these are nothing compared to having the meta during a debate, where you are also debating about the issue. Think of it as a big “even/if” argument: Even if you don’t think this argument is bad for debate, we still beat it for other reasons. All of this happening at once is like the pre-trial motions, the trial, and the sentencing happening at once. It can get hairy.

Debate “theory” is the collection of norms and practices that help keep debate fair, but more often than not they are a part of the strategy a team will deploy in order to win. The “theory” is more of a collection of normative debate “ideals” that can be accessed in order to create arguments that must be responded to by the other side or they lose. This “theory” doesn’t help advance the construction of arguments, but helps teams advance innovative ways to avoid argument – if you can’t respond to what I have said, you will lose. Unlike the way most people use the term theory – a way of constructing and understanding the relationship between highly complex ideas or practices – debate “theory” serves as a system of complex norms that participants must learn in order to find victory. It models bureaucracy and legal systems but without the backing or the historical formations that led to the analogues. It’s great training in order to learn an abstract system that is difficult to care about, but essential in order to advance your position within such an environment.

Compare debate “theory” to argumentation theory to get a sense of the difference. Debate theory is inward looking and attempts to craft arguments good for debate. Argumentation theory looks outward and is always changing itself to account for nuance and unexplained moves people make in debates. It is elastic to change based on discourse. Debate theory alters discourse to serve it; it forces adaptation in speaking style. Sometimes these changes are incredibly difficult to undo, if you have encountered long term debaters after the fact. I’m very skeptical that debate theory is a “theory” in the intellectual sense of things due to it’s function. It’s more like ideology, or better yet – a collection of norms and practices – like you would find in a religious order. And what works as very persuasive and symbolically salient within the order does not work too well outside the walls of the monastery.

An example of this is watching any NPDA team who is new to Worlds attempt to prop a motion. They define everything as narrowly as possible, to a very specific case almost and then claim that they only have to defend this small area of the motion. Principled arguments, or arguments about defending the larger parts of the motion are dismissed as not relevant, because they established what they would defend, and expect the opposition to follow suit.

This theory is called “parametrics” and it is not “theory” in so much as it helps us understand relationships within and around argument, but more about fairness. Policy debate, probably the oldest of the formats, uses one motion for the whole tournament season. In this environment, fairness is defended by allowing proposition teams the ability to narrow the debate to keep it interesting, and not to have to defend against every possible issue that could be supported under a motion. Parametrics helps sustain interest and challenge for a whole year’s worth of debates by keeping everyone on their toes with what could count as support of the motion. Think of it as debating “case studies” across a year where the list of case studies is not provided, nor is it ever really complete in any sense.

Why does WUDC not have such a system? Looking at the parametrics example I think we can come up with an answer – it just doesn’t fit what we are trying to do. I think again, we have two different models of what debate is for. In WUDC, the tradition is to develop speakers who can appeal to a broad public, whatever that might be. In American formats, the goal is to appeal to a particular expert, or even a person who is one of many experts. The analogue would be a lawyer adapting her appeal based on what she knows about this particular judge’s view of different legal issues, distinct from the specific matter in the case. I think that’s where WUDC and American formats split.

The desire to create things like judge paradigm lists and long discussions about the “right way” to counterprop don’t really have a place in Worlds. But there are people who confuse these specific practices with “good debating” on the whole, and want them present in Worlds. All judges in Worlds have one paradigm – the reasonable person. They are to evaluate arguments based on how reasonable and relevant they are to the debate. They are not to judge a team based on how well they used the normative rules of fairness to help them out. We have no need of a complex normative system of rules to debate about (you could argue we have our norms and practices, and you’d be right – but we don’t systematize them for use during debates).

Those who wish to add or include the insights of debate “theory” into worlds should question whether they desire to add it to improve Worlds or to improve their comfort with worlds. Adding the grammar of another language to make learning a new language easier will not help your fluency, just make you more comfortable and more angry when nobody understands you. Distinguishing comfort from improvement in regards to debate “theory” is a huge amount of sediment to overcome.

American Debate Sediment 3: Argument “theory”

For those unfamiliar with American debating formats, you might be surprised to learn that built into several formats is the ability to engage your opponent on the rules of debate itself. You can argue that the argument your opponent(s) made violates the rules of good debating, hurts either your ability to debate fairly or your ability to “get something” out of the debate, or both, and they should lose because of it. This is called “argument theory,” but I like to put scare quotes around the “theory” part because I am deeply suspicious of the ability of this body of common beliefs and practices to serve as theory in any academic use of the term.

This type of debating we sometimes call meta-debate – debating about the rules of the debate – doesn’t happen that often in our big political debates. Occasionally you will find it – Newt Gingrich announcing that the purpose of the Republican debate a few weeks ago was not to have Republicans attack one another but to jointly attack Obama would be one moment. Perhaps another one would be whether or not we should televise certain trials, mostly because of the effect it would have on the arguments within the courtroom (audience, even one you are ignoring, has big impacts on how you do things).

In your interpersonal arguments, there’s much more meta-debate. Is it fair to bring up that time two years ago when you were particularly insensitive in this argument right now? Perhaps it is, if it’s evidence of a trend. But it might not be if it’s just a way to derail the deliberation you and your partner are having now. In the end, both partners are very interested in reaching some sort of agreement, or solving the issue in front of them, and accessing past arguments might not work like stare decisis. It more works as a way to communicate your anger or pain with your interlocutor.

Worlds format does not have any space for the meta-debate. There are places like this blog, or the Worlds Forum that was held in Botswana and will be held in Manila too. There are all those conversations we have in the hallways of tournaments, or in briefings about how debate should work. But these are nothing compared to having the meta during a debate, where you are also debating about the issue. Think of it as a big “even/if” argument: Even if you don’t think this argument is bad for debate, we still beat it for other reasons. All of this happening at once is like the pre-trial motions, the trial, and the sentencing happening at once. It can get hairy.

Debate “theory” is the collection of norms and practices that help keep debate fair, but more often than not they are a part of the strategy a team will deploy in order to win. The “theory” is more of a collection of normative debate “ideals” that can be accessed in order to create arguments that must be responded to by the other side or they lose. This “theory” doesn’t help advance the construction of arguments, but helps teams advance innovative ways to avoid argument – if you can’t respond to what I have said, you will lose. Unlike the way most people use the term theory – a way of constructing and understanding the relationship between highly complex ideas or practices – debate “theory” serves as a system of complex norms that participants must learn in order to find victory. It models bureaucracy and legal systems but without the backing or the historical formations that led to the analogues. It’s great training in order to learn an abstract system that is difficult to care about, but essential in order to advance your position within such an environment.

Compare debate “theory” to argumentation theory to get a sense of the difference. Debate theory is inward looking and attempts to craft arguments good for debate. Argumentation theory looks outward and is always changing itself to account for nuance and unexplained moves people make in debates. It is elastic to change based on discourse. Debate theory alters discourse to serve it; it forces adaptation in speaking style. Sometimes these changes are incredibly difficult to undo, if you have encountered long term debaters after the fact. I’m very skeptical that debate theory is a “theory” in the intellectual sense of things due to it’s function. It’s more like ideology, or better yet – a collection of norms and practices – like you would find in a religious order. And what works as very persuasive and symbolically salient within the order does not work too well outside the walls of the monastery.

An example of this is watching any NPDA team who is new to Worlds attempt to prop a motion. They define everything as narrowly as possible, to a very specific case almost and then claim that they only have to defend this small area of the motion. Principled arguments, or arguments about defending the larger parts of the motion are dismissed as not relevant, because they established what they would defend, and expect the opposition to follow suit.

This theory is called “parametrics” and it is not “theory” in so much as it helps us understand relationships within and around argument, but more about fairness. Policy debate, probably the oldest of the formats, uses one motion for the whole tournament season. In this environment, fairness is defended by allowing proposition teams the ability to narrow the debate to keep it interesting, and not to have to defend against every possible issue that could be supported under a motion. Parametrics helps sustain interest and challenge for a whole year’s worth of debates by keeping everyone on their toes with what could count as support of the motion. Think of it as debating “case studies” across a year where the list of case studies is not provided, nor is it ever really complete in any sense.

Why does WUDC not have such a system? Looking at the parametrics example I think we can come up with an answer – it just doesn’t fit what we are trying to do. I think again, we have two different models of what debate is for. In WUDC, the tradition is to develop speakers who can appeal to a broad public, whatever that might be. In American formats, the goal is to appeal to a particular expert, or even a person who is one of many experts. The analogue would be a lawyer adapting her appeal based on what she knows about this particular judge’s view of different legal issues, distinct from the specific matter in the case. I think that’s where WUDC and American formats split.

The desire to create things like judge paradigm lists and long discussions about the “right way” to counterprop don’t really have a place in Worlds. But there are people who confuse these specific practices with “good debating” on the whole, and want them present in Worlds. All judges in Worlds have one paradigm – the reasonable person. They are to evaluate arguments based on how reasonable and relevant they are to the debate. They are not to judge a team based on how well they used the normative rules of fairness to help them out. We have no need of a complex normative system of rules to debate about (you could argue we have our norms and practices, and you’d be right – but we don’t systematize them for use during debates).

Those who wish to add or include the insights of debate “theory” into worlds should question whether they desire to add it to improve Worlds or to improve their comfort with worlds. Adding the grammar of another language to make learning a new language easier will not help your fluency, just make you more comfortable and more angry when nobody understands you. Distinguishing comfort from improvement in regards to debate “theory” is a huge amount of sediment to overcome.

American Debate Sediment 2: Punitive Judging

This is the second of a few pieces that I am working on to try to outline what I think are the biggest hurdles that Worlds debate development faces in the United States. It’s not an exhaustive list by any means, nor is it a list that I think is completely accurate.
Judging is hard work. I really don’t like it that much because it is exhausting. Doing it well all day is a real challenge for me, but when it’s good it is really good. The attention and care required are always paid back in the development of the debate students in later rounds. For students it’s becoming an essential part of my teaching of younger debaters to help them identify how a team creates victory out of almost nothing. 
Judging is a creative and developmental enterprise for me, but some judges I’ve worked with see it as a punitive exercise: They try to seek out the team that has made mistakes, messed up, or violated the rules in some way. These judges function like police – they look for infractions or violations of the “law.”
I remember winging on a panel 2 years ago at the Yale IV where the chair started the discussion, “The first thing we need to ask ourselves is: Did any team knife any other team?” After we decided there were no knives, the next question was, “Did any team not fulfill their role?” After about 10 minutes of this, we finally started discussing the quality of the argumentation. Another judge I was with wanted to give a team a 4 because “everyone knows” there is a “card out there” that 
The manufacture of knives and the seeking out of mistakes is a very comfortable way to judge, and one that is very common in many American debating formats. The trope of “I really like the argument, but you dropped this or that response,” or the dropping of another argument is enough to allow the judge to inhabit two worlds – the world of agreement and rejection at once, in a very pleasant way: “I agree with you, but the rules do not, and I must enforce the rules.” In this way, the judge removes herself entirely from the rather uncomfortable and more difficult position of saying that one argument was “better” than another one.
This is not the fault of the judge, nor is it really bad. This sediment comes from a format, or a system of formats that try to replicate and/or simulate a sphere of expertise. In expert spheres, people in decision making positions do this all the time. They say, “I am with you in principle, and against you in technical merit.” This happens in law, medicine, academia, and other such places. It is good training for those who wish to practice persuasion for expert fields.
We can see this also in the “tick box” judge – the judge who wants to give a team a 1 because, “They didn’t do anything wrong.” Sometimes this is articulated – as it has been to me a few times – because a team “did their job,” or “really fulfilled their role,” which puzzles me to no end. This is the other end of the “cop” judge, the one who wants to reward those who can follow the rules. 
But do we give a job to the person who has the correct margins on their resume? The person who filled in the application to the letter? It seems strange to not attend to content right away. It seems alien to not want to discuss content at all in evaluating debate performances.
 This is sediment that we must figure out how to remove from our Worlds experience. Why? Worlds debate, whether it planned to or not, has evolved to simulate a public sphere. The presence of a panel of judges simulates the discussion of the issues in a public before a decision is rendered. The need for arguments to sustain 8 different speeches also points to a format that doesn’t believe that there will be limited voices with access to the ear of the “public” involved in the discussion. This is practice that is tuned toward helping people persuade general audiences.  Both formats are desirable, but we must resist the urge to push all formats toward the form that makes us feel comfortable.
The discomfort of having to say, “I didn’t buy what you were saying” or “I didn’t understand what you were saying, so I dismissed it” would be unacceptable in a policy debate – the judge must be an expert, and if the judge misses an argument or doesn’t understand a technical issue, shame on them.  In a “natural language” format like Worlds, shame on the debater for not being clear enough or not explaining herself well enough to win. 
This explanation is measured with the ideal of the “reasonable person” standard, something derived from British law and applied to this debate game. The chair and the other judges must use it to temper their own potential expertise about an issue, or about debate in general, and render a decision that makes all the participants think about reaching general, intelligent audiences. The goal that a Worlds Grand Final should be a really engaging debate on a contentious issue is all the standard one needs. “Breaking the rules” is never a compelling case for anyone – in fact, it’s the opposite of establishing any position. 
How do we remove this sediment? I’ve had little luck in trying to get both of these judges to express their views on particular arguments in the debate. They feel, I think, that to express their own view of the argument is to “intervene” in the debate – code for letting your personal view or resonance with the arguments to trump the role of enforcer of good debating standards. 
Unfortunately, I lack the language at this point to explain to these judges that they have already intervened, that they will continue to do so, and that their intervention is what makes debate possible. This is based on the idea that the public, by virtue of their interest and care for the issue, must and will mutilate your argumentation. Fidelity to the proper, expert form of the argument – like scientific reasoning for example – is lost once that document wanders out into the public. Once there, people will mutilate it to make it make sense to them, or make it fit what they think.
This sediment will take a lot of time to wash away – many judges are simply incapable of making a decision without the rules being involved because of decades of training in the opposite direction. It is a big challenge, and I struggle with the proper language in which to frame it to these judges. There’s something strangely pleasurable about citing the relevant theory to make a decision instead of carefully comparing the articulation of a principled argument down a bench. 
Some might think that I am calling for less objectivity and therefore do not want a fair game. On the contrary, I do want less objectivity but only because throughout debate’s recent history in this country, fairness has been held above realism. And a game is only worth playing if it is fair to both the players and to the game itself. In short, there needs to be some risk to teach properly, and the risk is over-padded with fairness at the moment. There should be moments where your best arguments fail because they are “best arguments.” 
If you aren’t going to confront your limits in constructing persuasive discourse, when do you plan to do it? The judge who is not afraid to say an argument lacks quality – whatever that might be – is essential to this important moment of rhetorical development.

American Debate Sediment 2: Punitive Judging

This is the second of a few pieces that I am working on to try to outline what I think are the biggest hurdles that Worlds debate development faces in the United States. It’s not an exhaustive list by any means, nor is it a list that I think is completely accurate.
Judging is hard work. I really don’t like it that much because it is exhausting. Doing it well all day is a real challenge for me, but when it’s good it is really good. The attention and care required are always paid back in the development of the debate students in later rounds. For students it’s becoming an essential part of my teaching of younger debaters to help them identify how a team creates victory out of almost nothing. 
Judging is a creative and developmental enterprise for me, but some judges I’ve worked with see it as a punitive exercise: They try to seek out the team that has made mistakes, messed up, or violated the rules in some way. These judges function like police – they look for infractions or violations of the “law.”
I remember winging on a panel 2 years ago at the Yale IV where the chair started the discussion, “The first thing we need to ask ourselves is: Did any team knife any other team?” After we decided there were no knives, the next question was, “Did any team not fulfill their role?” After about 10 minutes of this, we finally started discussing the quality of the argumentation. Another judge I was with wanted to give a team a 4 because “everyone knows” there is a “card out there” that 
The manufacture of knives and the seeking out of mistakes is a very comfortable way to judge, and one that is very common in many American debating formats. The trope of “I really like the argument, but you dropped this or that response,” or the dropping of another argument is enough to allow the judge to inhabit two worlds – the world of agreement and rejection at once, in a very pleasant way: “I agree with you, but the rules do not, and I must enforce the rules.” In this way, the judge removes herself entirely from the rather uncomfortable and more difficult position of saying that one argument was “better” than another one.
This is not the fault of the judge, nor is it really bad. This sediment comes from a format, or a system of formats that try to replicate and/or simulate a sphere of expertise. In expert spheres, people in decision making positions do this all the time. They say, “I am with you in principle, and against you in technical merit.” This happens in law, medicine, academia, and other such places. It is good training for those who wish to practice persuasion for expert fields.
We can see this also in the “tick box” judge – the judge who wants to give a team a 1 because, “They didn’t do anything wrong.” Sometimes this is articulated – as it has been to me a few times – because a team “did their job,” or “really fulfilled their role,” which puzzles me to no end. This is the other end of the “cop” judge, the one who wants to reward those who can follow the rules. 
But do we give a job to the person who has the correct margins on their resume? The person who filled in the application to the letter? It seems strange to not attend to content right away. It seems alien to not want to discuss content at all in evaluating debate performances.
 This is sediment that we must figure out how to remove from our Worlds experience. Why? Worlds debate, whether it planned to or not, has evolved to simulate a public sphere. The presence of a panel of judges simulates the discussion of the issues in a public before a decision is rendered. The need for arguments to sustain 8 different speeches also points to a format that doesn’t believe that there will be limited voices with access to the ear of the “public” involved in the discussion. This is practice that is tuned toward helping people persuade general audiences.  Both formats are desirable, but we must resist the urge to push all formats toward the form that makes us feel comfortable.
The discomfort of having to say, “I didn’t buy what you were saying” or “I didn’t understand what you were saying, so I dismissed it” would be unacceptable in a policy debate – the judge must be an expert, and if the judge misses an argument or doesn’t understand a technical issue, shame on them.  In a “natural language” format like Worlds, shame on the debater for not being clear enough or not explaining herself well enough to win. 
This explanation is measured with the ideal of the “reasonable person” standard, something derived from British law and applied to this debate game. The chair and the other judges must use it to temper their own potential expertise about an issue, or about debate in general, and render a decision that makes all the participants think about reaching general, intelligent audiences. The goal that a Worlds Grand Final should be a really engaging debate on a contentious issue is all the standard one needs. “Breaking the rules” is never a compelling case for anyone – in fact, it’s the opposite of establishing any position. 
How do we remove this sediment? I’ve had little luck in trying to get both of these judges to express their views on particular arguments in the debate. They feel, I think, that to express their own view of the argument is to “intervene” in the debate – code for letting your personal view or resonance with the arguments to trump the role of enforcer of good debating standards. 
Unfortunately, I lack the language at this point to explain to these judges that they have already intervened, that they will continue to do so, and that their intervention is what makes debate possible. This is based on the idea that the public, by virtue of their interest and care for the issue, must and will mutilate your argumentation. Fidelity to the proper, expert form of the argument – like scientific reasoning for example – is lost once that document wanders out into the public. Once there, people will mutilate it to make it make sense to them, or make it fit what they think.
This sediment will take a lot of time to wash away – many judges are simply incapable of making a decision without the rules being involved because of decades of training in the opposite direction. It is a big challenge, and I struggle with the proper language in which to frame it to these judges. There’s something strangely pleasurable about citing the relevant theory to make a decision instead of carefully comparing the articulation of a principled argument down a bench. 
Some might think that I am calling for less objectivity and therefore do not want a fair game. On the contrary, I do want less objectivity but only because throughout debate’s recent history in this country, fairness has been held above realism. And a game is only worth playing if it is fair to both the players and to the game itself. In short, there needs to be some risk to teach properly, and the risk is over-padded with fairness at the moment. There should be moments where your best arguments fail because they are “best arguments.” 
If you aren’t going to confront your limits in constructing persuasive discourse, when do you plan to do it? The judge who is not afraid to say an argument lacks quality – whatever that might be – is essential to this important moment of rhetorical development.