On Anniversaries, or Connecting Here and There, Now and Then

This morning I was invited to return to policy debate. A season opening scrimmage happened in Manhattan. I didn't have anything better to do, plus I have been feeling off ever since the start of the semester, so I accepted. 
I am not really into policy debate. I said farewell to U.S. policy debate in 2004, and haven't really done much with it since then. But I figured I could help out some new people. At least, I hoped they would be new debaters, as I don't know how helpful I could possibly be to those who are a bit more advanced in it. But I love teaching very much, I love debate more than I think I do, and I really wanted to do something other than sit around and feel anxious all day. 
When I arrived, even on the train into Manhattan, it hadn't crossed my mind what day today is. It was half way through a pretty messy, pretty beginner policy debate, when thinking about how weird the negative block is, that I realized it was September 11th. 
The Negative Block struck me as weird, for the first time ever, because I suddenly thought about how the two negative speakers speak back to back, but are unrelated in their task.  One is providing more constructive arguments or evidence, and the second begins the rebuttals, or summary speeches, of the debate. They are connected, but they might as well be in different dimensions – one is constructing, one is providing summation and answering, but both are connected in what they are doing. 
Likewise, times and places are connected by the presences of things that turn up. On September 11th, 2001 I was working on a policy debate case. I had woken up early and my new roommates were not up yet. I had only been in Rochester a few days, maybe four at the most. I barely knew anyone, and Texas seemed like another planet. I figured there was no better way to start the day, and deal with my anxieties over the new, then to do some debate work. I typed away on the case, and realized how quiet it was in the house. I turned on the TV just in time to see everything start going down. When my roommate woke up, he ambled into the room and I pointed out that we were under attack. We just watched. My other roommate was on the phone discussing it with her father. Needless to say, I stopped working on debate. We watched TV and talked. We heard classes were cancelled. We wondered if anyone would want to learn debate – and how important was debate now? We had a debate team meeting the next night that was quite small compared to our opening meeting, but people still came. We were hosting the season opening tournament that year – only a couple of weeks after 9/11. Although we discussed the possibility, we decided to still have it. We had practice rounds, we taught, we cut cards, and we worked together on building ideas. And it was fine. It was really great actually. My favorite year of life thus far. It was my real formal introduction to being a University debate coach, and it brought me some wonderful, memorable moments both personally and as a teacher.
I only stopped work on debate that one day, but debate never stopped working on me. I don't think once it has. It's always been there working away, working me over, doing something – even when I abandoned it. And even during that crazy time 9 years ago and the months that followed it, we were better for being in debate. It brought me some of my greatest experiences and some life-long friends. It still does. And I'm still floored by the transformative effect it has on people. I often wonder why I am permitted to do this work.
All of this came to me during a very disjointed, very confused, and very scattered negative block delivered by some very earnest but very, very green debaters. And I realized that policy debate, novice training, New York, and September 11th all came together, again, and connected then to now. Here to there. Different people, different places in life, but still there were these novices, here were those bad arguments,those frustrated faces, and me trying to explain to them how to do better. A lot has changed in the world in 9 years, but one wonderful thing connects the me of then to the me of now. And I wake up every day so thankful to be permitted to participate in it. 
And for as bad as things were that day, how scared we were, or for as bad as things are in the world since that day, it was a moment that clearly presented to me the power of this art across time and across geography. Linking then to now, here to there, times change but they don't, things are different, but they always were. At least there are always bright people willing to take a beautiful Saturday morning and work on presenting complex ideas to one another because they sincerely believe that given the right persuasive argument at the right moment said in the right way, you can change another person. And that seems as true and present today as it was on that terrible day. Connected.
What a surprising way to mark this anniversary.

Why Debate Should be More Soto, and Why Everyone Loves Rinzai

Recently visited the Strand, perhaps one of the more famous used bookstores in Manhattan with a great friend, and while browsing the Buddhism section, I come across a perfect book for teaching debate, titled Mouth Open, Already a Mistake. Beautiful isn’t it?

Although the title did get a good laugh out of us, the connections between Buddhism and Debate have always seemed obvious to me. they pop out of nowhere, everywhere, all the time. I bet you might see a few even if you are not stricken with seeing the connection, as I am.

Take for instance the “division” between the two schools of Zen Buddhism in Japan, Soto and Rinzai. I believe these two different approaches to Zen can be a great analogy to debate practice.

Zen Buddhism is unquestionably a religion centered on practice. The two sects of Zen Buddhism – Rinzai, famous for its reliance on koans and its famous history as the religion of choice for samurai, and Soto – the famous “sitting Zen” of Dogen Zenji that reminds us there is no proper “enlightenment,” just the practice of Zen – are two different paths that debaters can take. You can work on debate as a “problem” that defies logic – the more you come up with formulas for victory, the further away it seems. That’s Rinzai debating.  Rinzai debate is debate that defies a reasoned, logical solution. It’s debate that, like a riddle, pushes you till you finally get it – then you become enlightened, and the mysteries of the debate Universe are yours. Soto Zen doesn’t believe in a stark moment of “enlightenment” per se, or satori, a moment of great clarity, but believes that the practice of Zen – sitting and meditating, is “enlightenment” by definition. You are enlightened when you are doing the work of practice. There’s no moment you work toward, you just do the action. Soto debate is rare, probably because it’s a lot less sexy.

I believe that most current participants of debate, especially people who are only a couple of years into it, follow a Rinzai Debate practice. It seems the most popular approach to debate, hands down. There’s really something that fits here for these practitioners.

Debate is a puzzle that only the most clever can figure out through abnormal means. Maybe it’s going to hit you during lunch, or at the social what the grand strategy is. You employ it the next day, and . ..wow, another four. Sadness. You wait for the next moment of inspiration, or you work hard to glean a clue from the lips of the “enlightened masters.” Perhaps if you are nice enough, or lucky, or attractive, one of the enlightened masters will take you aside and confer upon you the transmission of the secret truths that will bring you enlightenment. They will help you figure out the trick to it, and you can one day, in one round, in one speech hit satori and the
debate world will crack like an egg.

This leads to a practice of debating that seeks the quick fix, the trick, the “moment” where it will all fall into place. Hours are spent admiring the work of the enlightened masters, and trying to figure out the one thing, the formula, or the “secret path” to success. People try to emulate the enlightened in their POI style or their manner, or the structure of their arguments. Of course, just like a student who repeats one of the recorded answers to a _koan_ for his or her Master, this doesn’t work and is immediately seen through – or in our case, gives the adjudicators a bad taste in their mouths. Either way, you fail the test. Back to the drawing board.

Soto debate is a bit rarer. This is the practitioner who sees little distinction between being a “good debater” and being a “human.” The practice bleeds into daily life, and daily life bleeds into the practice. They of course admire the success of the skilled, but recognize it was not because of a moment of satori that success was achieved. Daily sitting, daily “work” on debate was essential. When you are sitting Zazen, you are doing Zen, which means you are practicing it. There’s nothing more to do. When you debate, you are a debater, whether you make bad arguments or not. You are a practitioner. Debating is not an instrumentality, it is the goal. When you debate, you debate. You are not trying to open up something, it’s open. You opened it. This is the Soto approach.

I am going to suggest that the Soto flavored practice of debating might not only be a bit healthier, if you are into improving the self with debate practice, but might also improve debating for everyone involved. It might even cause you to win a bit more.

The Soto practice is called “sitting Zen” because, well, that’s what it is. Not terribly exciting, it forces you to confront in solitude and silence the very essence of the narrative that you believe makes “you.” You are not “you” and sitting Zen makes this clear (given a bit of time of course). The sitting is just that. Debating is just that. There’s no moment of purity coming. There’s no ticker counting up the minutes you’ve spoken opening prop until you suddenly master it. That time is right now, that moment is right now. Face it!

Open Mouth, Already a Mistake indeed. It is unavoidable to falter. There is no “enlightenment” as a distinct moment of perfect success. There are only successive moments known as your life. Don’t let them blow by you because you are imagining some greater moment ahead that will open up for you. You speak; the heavens crack open – an illusion, a fantasy. But that last sentence might have made perfect sense to someone in the room. That’s “enlightenment.”  Every round, every utterance, is the moment, and you cannot (but will) be mistaken about this.

Does this mean don’t prepare? Hardly. You open your mouth daily, hourly, some of you by the minute. How often do you draw up distinctions between debate rounds and life rounds? Do you sit and read and face your inadequacies daily through reading? What do you not know? What knowledge gaps can be filled? What discussions could you have to help you out? What about the discussion you just had? Any insights there for debate? Always practicing, always practicing. It is said that there should be no difference in meditating on a crowded city bus or a peaceful temple. There is of course, but to the devoted practitioner, that difference is no matter.

Instead of worrying about what the Masters say, or the discourse of the enlightened being, worry about what you say – or better yet, don’t, and just open your mouth and debate. Practice all the time, make daily life your practice, and you will be a debater. It won’t come in one sudden moment, and it won’t come after years of work, it will only come when you open your mouth – and make a mistake.

N.B. Of course, this is a bit over-simplistic, and no insult is intended toward Rinzai Zen. It is a very serious, and very well founded religious practice. Most Rinzai practitioner, and for that matter Soto practitioners would not characterize the differences in the schools so harshly. But young students and interested beginners/laypersons might, and this would be the way the narrative would unfold. A Zen Master, along with the student, would work many years to clarify and tune the position of the adept practitioner. Just like any analogy,
this one suffers from a gap and difference from reality that, although diminishes accuracy, allows for a different and hopefully productive perspective in the mind of the reader.

Debating Ellis on Intelligence Squared

It's pretty rare that I take up the opportunity to debate these days, but a couple of weeks ago I was invited to participate in an Intelligence Squared debate on the merit of author Bret Easton Ellis of American Psycho fame. 
I think it went pretty well, and I'm somewhat surprised with how nice it turned out. Have a listen by clicking the link. You will need iTunes for the link to work.
I hope this isn't the first and the last IQ2 podcast in which I get to participate. I really enjoyed it!

Pointing at the Moon vs. Skillful Means in Debate Pedagogy (tags: debate, pedagogy, Zen)

There are two distinct and seemingly contradictory edicts in the pedagogy of Zen Buddhism.

The first is the idea of “pointing at the moon.” This comes from a koan that is quite well known in Buddhist literature. The koan goes like this:

The nun Wu Jincang asked the Sixth Patriach Huineng, “I have studied the Mahaparinirvana sutra for many years, yet there are many areas i do not quite understand. Please enlighten me.” The patriach responded, “I am illiterate. Please read out the characters to me and perhaps i will be able to explain the meaning.” Said the nun, “You cannot even recognize the characters. How are you able then to understand the meaning?” “Truth has nothing to do with words. Truth can be likened to the bright moon in the sky. Words, in this case, can be likened to a finger. The finger can point to the moon’s location. However, the finger is not the moon. To look at the moon, it is necessary to gaze beyond the finger, right?”

One interpretation of this is that direction from another is never enough for comprehension. It can be the first step in apprehension, or discovery. But after that one must take on the subject with directness, experience, and absoption.

Another approach: Talking about or listening to a discourse on a subject does not make one understand the subject. This is a much, much ignored idea in contemporary teaching, but not in contemporary pedagogy. Critical pedagogy tackles this issue head on, in my opinion, with the idea of praxis, or practice and theory blended or merged in such a way that they inform each other directly.

The finger pointing at the moon is an egotistical finger. It is so uncertain and unsure of itself that it often imagines that without its presence, nobody would even see the moon, much less recognize the incredible importance and value of the moon. The finger is a lot closer, and a lot more immediate than the moon, so the finger gets a lot of attention from the students. The students easily begin to slip into the easy believe that not only does the finger understand the moon implicitly, but the finger lives there, has lived there for many years, and often goes there. Some even say the finger is composed of moon-matter, and therefore attending to the finger is attending to the moon – they are of the same stuff.

This koan is a pedagogical warning: Do not equate the message with the messenger. You will fall into terrible associations and false practices. Nobody but you can assess and know the moon. There’s nothing between you and the moon. You do not need a finger to help you understand that. You might, at the beginning, be uncertain of where the light comes from at night. The instructor, master, or teacher can direct you, and sometimes needs to direct you with the finger. But only a fool allows their eyes to rest there. The moon is where it’s at.

Even the water apprehends the moon perfectly without assistance. It knows moon without intermediary. A drop of dew does the same. The trick is how much finger, and how to make sure students do not replace moon with your presence, or worse, think that the moon was transmitted to them via your finger.

Now, on to the second issue: Skillful Means.

I’ve been reading a ton of [Brad Warner’s] (http://hardcorezen.blogspot.com) books and writings recently, and I like his take on skillful means about as much as I like Thich Naht Hahn’s. Warner defines it as, “doing the absolute best with what you have,” in Sit Down and Shut Up.

Skillful Means for the teacher is nothing new. You learn how to beg, borrow, and steal ideas for your class. You sift through the garbage at your institution for any good matter with which to teach. You take extra handouts you find in other classrooms. You listen carefully to your colleagues in order to get new or maybe more effective classroom ideas from them. In short, you are always reaching out, taking in, evaluating and editing ideas for the classroom.

When teaching, Skillful Means are there. You are always assessing how each line is being processed, accepted, or rejected by your students. As Thich Nhat Hanh puts it, the teacher extends a staff and the student must grab hold of it with blind trust to cross the river. Skillful means are how to get students to grab onto something they can’t quite see yet.

So the contradiction I am working through is how to avoid seeing Skillful Means as a Pointing to the Moon for pedagogy. I think I have substituted extension of Skillful Means for the Moon in pedagogy, and I wonder if I am alone. It’s quite satisfying to think that you have done great things for students and you have only really extended to them a stick, not realization of what “crossing the river” means or could mean.

The only solution for this paradox (perhaps it’s not a contradiction after all) is perhaps to broaden one’s teaching past the point of teaching skills to teaching skills within a larger narrative or context. The idea that one only has to debate well to understand debate is ridiculous at best, and pretty dangerous at worst. Look to the closest analogue to contemporary debate training that we have – the martial arts – and you find a very tightly wedded concept of ethics and a nice moral philosophy grounded deeply within the skills taught and tied directly to the promotion system of martial arts. We only seem to have and promote skills and have little concern for the context in which these skills operate. You teach someone to high kick, but you do not examine the ethical responsibilities that come with such a skill?

I think that the danger is that skillful means are very satisfying. That “Oooh!” moment becomes addictive. The cult of personality that arises around the teacher who awakens many students is also addictive. One begins to believe one is the Moon – or the realization. The counters to this are quite difficult to imagine and employ.

All of this is in the service of religious enlightenment, so it might seem difficult or unwise to marshal it for the teaching of rhetoric and debate. But enlightenment in the Buddhist tradition is generally thought of as realization that this world is all there is. So I think it can be quite useful for getting students out of their own heads, their own egos, their own beliefs about the world and into the way the world is perceived by the multitude of others.

Focus on the realizations that we share and perhaps we can appreciate the skillful means of others within a context that associates us more with each other rather than a dissociative context where there are the “good debaters” and everyone else. Working toward realization is everyone’s lifelong duty, if this perspective is adopted.