The New York Sophist

Still no sign of my ancient copy of The Federalist Papers but for some reason Amazon gave me a 15 dollar discount on a Kindle version of them, so I’m good to go for my super-awesome procrastination plan of reading them through instead of doing any actual work. I feel like a rhetorical defense of originalism is what’s brewing in my head and although that might sound like a contradiction to some of you and incredibly stupid to the rest of you, I think that any defense of any hermeneutic approach is going to be rhetorical.

Two things on my mind this morning as I virtually attend the C-SPAN Center for Scholarship and Engagement Annual Conference:

I forgot, or perhaps never knew that The Federalist Papers were aimed at, and made for a New York City audience. It was very important to Hamilton’s strategy of ratification of the work of the convention to get the city on board with the new Constitution, as that would flip a lot of other minds in other towns as well as render most of New York’s citizens views outside the city irrelevant.

For an unnamed side project that I’ll probably talk about on here one day, I’m putting together a class tentatively called “Debating New York” where we just go through all the various controversies that New York City has faced over time and have class debates, discuss, research, and write about them. This class takes on my idea that debate is a site of inquiry meant for discovering and learning. So now I can include the debate over the Constitution as a New York city debate, thanks to Alexander Hamilton anyway.

The other thought is this: Could you do an entire debate or argument course on The Federalist Papers? Like, just read through those, some of the Convention debates from Madison or other sources, and have the students construct arguments about and around the issues that are brought up in the papers? I don’t think every essay matters that much anymore, but depending on when you taught the class there would be some play and emphasis. For example, if I was teaching this right now I would put a lot more emphasis on Hamilton’s three essays on the role of the judiciary and try to see what those mean for the Barrett hearings, as well as for her understanding of originalism. What’s an originalist take on the role of the Supreme Court, or the process for getting people nominated and confirmed?

In times where there are congressional debates, perhaps focus more on those essays. Maybe pair the reading of the papers with Joseph Ellis’s great book Quartet which would give some more background on the framing and shaping of these arguments. I wonder if I could pull this off.

Regardless of these future plans, it’s becoming clear to me I’m going to have to go up to my office to see if I can find my 1990s copy of the book, my dissolving Federalist papers collection, on my shelf up there, no doubt coated with a fine powder of 1950s building materials sluffing off the celling, dirt, and dead coronavirus particles. Sounds so exciting. I really just can’t wait. Although I did hear a rumor I’m getting a new office, but I’m sure that means the actual policy is at least 2 years away.

This amazing op-ed from history professor Jack Rakove is perhaps an attempt at a liberal “take down” of originalism, but winds up being a pretty good defense of an originalism that we could all support: What were the topoi and commonplaces of the debates around constitutional issues? What sort of metaphorical connections can we make to those commonplaces and topoi today? How do those arguments interact and guide us for the creation of our own reasons in support of various laws and rights? Most importantly, can a debate – not the result of a debate – be used as compelling proof for something?

Of course none of this came out in the hearings for Judge Barrett. Mostly because the people we elect to the Senate are incredibly stupid, power hungry people who do not approach the world, let alone any issue, as a complex text that invites ongoing encounter and regular reiteration of meaning. Even if an issue feels or seems unassailable, it is good to practice the reasons why, and practice them in terms of language – articulating them orally for audiences.

Originalism was pretty well defended on the last day of the hearings, day four, where everyone else was talking and not Judge Barrett and the Senators (“What do you think of this law/decision?” “Without a case before me, I cannot think about it in a relevant way to this hearing”) I know she didn’t say that, but that’s what she meant. She has a lot of opinions, a lot – just look at how many things she’s written and how many talks she’s given, for what publications and audiences. A law professor, any professor actually, has a lot to say and will never turn down a chance to say it. But that’s not why she was there in the hearing room. That’s what we all wanted, and that’s why she was there, but that’s not why she was there. It’s complicated.

It’s a bad model, having someone interview for this job the same way you’d interview for anything else. I’d argue this interview is a lot less challenging than any other professional interview out there, particularly jobs that require you to make decisions based on hearing speeches and reading voluminous texts that are interpretations of interpretations.

Anyway the fourth day – lots of conversation about Originalism and it’s value and failings. Great stuff there from Judge Thomas Griffin, who is also a law professor, on the value of originalism for progressive thinkers. His comments seem to fold right into the editorial which suggests, at least how I’m reading it, that originalism means you need to immerse yourself in the arguments of the debates around the Constitution, not what this or that founder believed.

The trouble isn’t having an interpretation or hermeneutic, the trouble is trying to explain to people that context is important and important because it is uncertain, and calls us into account to make sense of it. It calls for an accounting, which is an accounting of us. That’s what should be going on.

I want to make a video about this but haven’t had the time or energy. I’ve just been looking around for my ancient copy of The Federalist Papers which I used to carry around with me for 2 years in High School, just in case I needed it to prove something about some political argument I was having. Anyway, that old book is probably long gone, can’t find it anywhere. I might have to get a new copy which is weird to think about and also kind of fun as it will be time to mark it all up again. Would be a lot better to mark up the old one again and see how I’ve changed. But I can’t expect to still have a paperback from the 1990s around here. Right after I put in the order, I will find it somewhere I bet.

All I’d like to do this week is sit around and listen to music and read the Federalist Papers, but it’s going to be another really busy week.

The Lincoln-Douglas Debates have captured the American imagination on what debate should look like, and I’m really at a loss as to why.

They were for a U.S. Senate seat in Illinois. Most people think they were Presidential debates. Although Stephen Douglas had presidential ambitions, they were never realized.

The Senators at that time were not determined by popular vote. The State Legislature determined the Senators, as the idea at that time was that the Senate represented State interests, and the House represented the people.

Perhaps Abraham Lincoln thought a series of debates would be good self promotion, or promotion for his minority party, the Republicans. Either way Stephen Douglas’s ambitions caused him to accept the series of debates as well. Both agreed the debates would be beneficial for the people of Illinois, and for the country. They assumed they would get national attention, and they were right.

These debates, like any good debates, are a product of local circumstance, context, and controversy. It’s odd, but expected I guess that they would be transformed into a fantasy of universally good debating.

I’m against this idea that they are a universal model, but reflecting on all the discussion about them as a better alternative to the Commission on Presidential Debates got me thinking about what we can learn about good debate from the Lincoln-Douglas debates. Here are a few ideas:

Debating is a performance

Although Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas had no conception of broadcast media, they were keenly aware of the role of print journalism in shaping political views. The debates they offered were not just for the audience attending that particular debate, but for the journalists who would write vivid descriptions of the speeches, gestures, and delivery for their readers miles away.

Debate is not about being right or being true. It’s not about facts. It’s about communicating the reasons why you hold the position you do for the benefit of an audience. Facts and belief can only go so far. The lesson here is that the presentation might be the only thing that will allow your audience to side with you. It provides access to your position in ways that simply reading it won’t. These debaters understood that.

Moderator? What Moderator?

The Lincoln-Douglas debate series had no moderator. The two men worked out their debate schedule in a series of letters between them, both agreeing that the debates would be in the public interest. Although the Illinois Senate race would be determined in the State Legislature, they both thought these debates would help people better understand and articulate their positions on national politics, particularly the question of slavery.

Since the debates would be about singular questions offered by whichever of the two candidates would speak first, the setup was pretty clear. If someone went off the topic, the other could point this out in their response speech. The audience could also cheer, or boo, indicating to the candidate if they had overstepped the bounds of a reasonable response.

What we can learn from this is that the function of the moderator is not to assist in creating a quality debate, but to assist in the creation of an even that looks good for television. Fast paced, moving between different topics, quickly cutting from one individual back to the other, and trying to create sound bites – the mass media’s most profitable product.

The debate moderators are not helping debate, they are helping media business. They are trying to create something exciting and newsworthy. They interrupt and enforce ludicrous time limits where candidates can barely thank the moderator for the question.

Candidates should control the floor when they speak. They all have experience in courts, in legislatures, and in boardrooms. They don’t need a journalist to tell them how to do this. And we don’t need one to help keep the debate on track. All we need is a clear topic that won’t change for 90 mintues.

We Don’t Need Boutique Topics

One of the most frustrating issues I faced when teaching competitive debate was the selection of topics. In high school competition, topics are either annual or change every three months. They are selected by a committee of educators and the staff of the national organization that oversees contest debating, the National Speech and Debate Association (NSDA).

At the university and college level, topics are selected by a committee that is chosen by the Cross Examination Debate Association (CEDA) and the National Debate Tournament (NDT). This committee solicits papers from the membership that argue for a topic area, cite research showing that it is valuable to debate, and suggest some resolution or topic framing ideas. The committee puts the best suggestions to a vote by members who then have a second vote on the wording.

This is all lovely and democratic in appearance, but the frustration here comes from the idea that people will be able to know what a good debate topic is. That it could be engineered in some way to be “good for debate.” The topics that are created are good for engineered, competitive debate. They help corral issues like fairness and bias in the topic, so that competitive winners of debates can be chosen. This preference ruins the ultimate value of debate: Giving us more to speak with one another about.

Debate organizations and professionals craft “boutique” topics in the same way that professional sports draw very careful white lines on a field, and make sure that the ball is inflated and sized to exacting standards. They are interested in the game being fair first, and that leads to a good game. This makes sense if you are trying to determine who is the best at an activity. For debate, they are very good at determining who is best at boutique debating. Debating outside of such landscaping and manicuring, this approach does not work. To truly learn and benefit from debate, it must be a messy combination of what people find controversial and how the debaters take up that controversy for them, not for any set of rules.

Lincoln and Douglas chose topics that were on the top of everyone’s mind, and they did so by drawing directly from the national conversation. They took these issues and broadened them. A good contemporary example of the sort of thing they did would be to take the issue of the COVID pandemic, and instead of debating it directly, in terms of government response, the question could be “Is this how a democracy should handle a pandemic?” or perhaps “The States should determine their own pandemic policy based on Federal government advice.” Something like that would be more in-line with the Lincoln-Douglas debate topics, although since they were given 30 minutes to ask the question, it’s hard for our 21st century minds to understand how that would be possible.

The best topics come right out of the controversies in front of us and need no engineering. They don’t have to be made; they are all around us. They are messy, but that’s a great place to form a strong position on what we should be doing or thinking. National educational debate organizations like CEDA-NDT or the NSDA are not interested in debate, they are interested in creating contests that excite students. What debate wants and needs is secondary. Lincoln and Douglas show us that the best kinds of debate allow the audience to refine their beliefs and then select a winner, not select a winner based on how well they supported a side under a boutique topic crafted by supposed debate experts.

A Mediated Approach is Better than a Media Approach

Contemporary debates are rushed due to the costs of TV and people’s low attention spans. The Commission has fought this problem for it’s entire existence. But it begs the question: Why are these debates televised?

When we look to other organizations that craft and create professional debates, they diversify: The Munk Debates have podcast debates as well as a YouTube presence. So does the TED debates, and Doha. Intelligence Squared pioneered this multi-pronged approach years ago (I happened to appear on one of those and it was quite fun, but I think the link has been lost to time). The Commission on Presidential debates seems clueless in this regard, producing only 3 televised debates every four years.

Lincoln and Douglas can teach us an alternative, and that is to hyper-mediate one event through awareness of the different audiences out there for such an event.

First, there’s the debate audience present and attending the debate itself. Second, there are the newspaper and magazine reporters there covering it. Third, there are the reporters for the party-owned and controlled newspapers, something we don’t talk about enough in American political history.

Lincoln and Douglas were very clever, and made sure to address all three levels of audience at once. This takes a lot of talent and practice, and the two men were obviously aware that how they said particular arguments might be ignored by some journalists as hyperbole, but eaten up by the party presses. Likewise, something of local color and interest for the crowd would be reported in national papers, but maybe not of such interest to the party journalists. And angry aggressive speech would be reported on in mocking tones by the opposite party journalists.

This awareness is a keen recognition of a multilayered audience situation, and that one must mediate one’s speech in order to reach all the audiences appropriately. Today we think of this as modality, as a podcast will be cut and edited differently from a TV broadcast, as will a blog or other print medium. Lincoln and Douglas show us that you can do this by speaking in ways that accommodate a number of different media to get the perspective you want for the audience you want to reach. Instead of letting the media control what the debates look like, let candidates do it by having an engaging event with one another, and allow them to speak in the ways they wish to reach the audiences they wish to reach.

Take Your Time

There are two really excellent books on the Lincoln-Douglas Debates that stand out. One is by Allen Guelzo, the other by David Zarefsky. In the Zarefsky book, he highlights an interesting moment in the debates where Abraham Lincoln is oddly surprised by the question Senator Douglas asks him. He pauses, then informs the audience that he would like to check on a few facts in the town library before he gives an answer. Everyone agrees, and the debate disperses. A few hours later, Lincoln, Douglas, and the crowd re-assemble, and the debate continues, with Lincoln offering his answer.

Everyone is better off with the addition of reflective research and adaptive thinking. In the Lincoln-Douglas debates, both candidates were kept on their toes by one another, trying to second guess what their responses might be and changing the questions to try to see if they could force an error. Likewise, each man had to read and keep up with the law, the public opinion, and the courts to keep the debates relevant through research accuracy.

Contrast this to the Commission on Presidential Debates blocking the candidate use of notes or other aids to memory. This leads to both participants practicing repeating stock phrases, campaign trail slogans, and the like. Since things cannot be looked up on a laptop computer or phone, we are just left with assertions from memory from both candidates. Journalists and publications serve as “fact-checkers,” but this doesn’t help improve the quality, or force, of the debate itself. It’s sort of like finding out an important ingredient was missing after you ate a meal – disappointing no matter what.

Instead, let the candidates follow Lincoln’s lead and look things up during the debate. The sign of intelligence is not perfect recall without consulting anything, but instead deferring to research to ensure one has a grounded thought. But the Commission wants a good TV show, and looking smug and not needing notes apparently is what they think we are excited to see. I just wish they would give us what we need instead.

Those are some of the lessons here, but now I’m sort of inspired to go back over my Lincoln-Douglas debate materials and see what else I can find. I might post more about this later, but for now, I really just would like us to reflect on why an obscure set of Senate debates from the 1850s seem so much better than our debates in 2020. What does this say about the direction our political discourse is headed?

The Vice Presidential Debate yesterday was cold, calm, and “civil.” It seemed to include everything we thought was lacking in the First Presidential debate (with the exception of a good moderator). Yet it seemed so profoundly disappointing. Did we learn anything? Did we move forward in our understanding of the candidates? I think most of us would say no to these questions.

The problem isn’t civility or facts. The problem is in defining what debate is. Everyone thinks they know what real debate is, and nobody has examined the reasons why they believe what they do.

The heart of the problem is that we tend to believe that debate is natural. It’s something humans do when we have mutually exclusive, competitive options on what to do. There is some truth to this perspective; recent research from Hugo Mercier, Dan Sperber and others is confirming via cognitive psychology what American rhetorical theorists such as Douglas Ehninger, Wayne Brockriede, and James Brenham were writing about debate in the 1970s and 1980s. But this isn’t quite enough.

Eating is natural, but eating well is a practiced, learned behavior. Speaking comes to children naturally, over time, but speaking meaningfully and recognizing how to say something well must be practiced and studied. Debate is the same way. We might learn to argue at a young age – any parent can confirm this fact – but to debate is to offer a refined performance for a particular purpose. It has to be thought out, prepared, and carefully made for an audience.

Most people model good debate after school debates, or intercollegiate debates. These debates are not structured with the principles of good debate in mind. Very much like a school exam, they are structured to teach and measure recall and performance of various educational metrics. For example, the popular high school competitive format of Public Forum debate exists to fill a need for an activity that gives students practice and support of skills such as speaking with organization, research, comparing information, and the like. It is not modeled with fidelity to debate, but more modeled for what works in teaching. Lincoln-Douglas debate is also similarly modeled, created in order to provide students educational opportunity. Both serve their purpose, but do not have much support for being a national model, or a universal model of debate.

There is no universal model of debating, except that there should be agreement between the participants on time limits, topic, and the judge. The Commission on Presidential Debates has failed to establish any of these fundamentals. Their function is to create a “newsworthy” event that the media can cover without having to provide equal time to all political candidates. The Commission, set up and run by two-party partisans, does it’s job well in reducing our scope of choices to the two major parties.

If we wanted to model a better debate, what would it look like?

From my point of view as a professor who teaches this and studies it, the major change must be in the topic. Choose one topic, and let’s have alternating speeches on it, 5 minutes each. The moderator can go to Twitter and pull the questions from the viewers. The moderator need not be a journalist, as journalistic questions are not debate questions. Journalists are trying to get at the truth and the facts; debates are trying to explore whether we really know or understand the issue. A good debate is one that surprises us and makes us think not that we might be wrong, but that we need to think about the issue more.

For the vice presidential debate, how about the topic: “The Trump Administration has served America well.” Mike Pence can defend this motion, and Kamala Harris can argue against it. The debate will move between various examples, but instead of having someone who writes for an 8th grade reading level in USA Today, let the candidates choose what examples to take up and run with. I would predict Pence to flee from discussion of the pandemic, and Harris to speak only about that issue. But near the end, both will be focused on two major points.

Allowing them to speak longer and deeper about one question gives voters information. This information allows voters to construct more complicated ideas about motive, values, and potential of the candidates to engage in policymaking, as well as identifying what matters and what doesn’t. Rushing along through 10 topics doesn’t do anything for voters, but it sure does create some great sound bites for the media.

The model of debate should suit the reason why you are debating. The high school or college model is chosen because it helps people practice research, evaluating evidence, and speaking in an orderly, meaningful way. The CPD model is chosen because it reduces our scope of thought and choice, allowing the 2 party system to thrive by filling the rhetorical space with whatever they want. A third model might actually do what we need: Give us more information about these candidates by watching them develop, alter, and engage reasons on an issue over 90 minutes.

Nobody wanted to be in Chris Wallace’s shoes last week at that terrible debate. Not even sure it was a debate. Lots of shouting. For most people, it was a preview of Thanksgiving dinner, maybe even before drinks.

In this video I suggest three options Wallace had that would have been a bit better than what he did: Join the fray. He could have:

1. Asked short, thoughtful questions rather than reading a 15 second setup for each one.
2. Spoke to the audience as moderator, into the camera, explaining the rule violations as they happen.
3. Walked off the set since a moderator is not needed when all the agreements to debate have been violated.

I wonder what future moderators will do (or won’t do) after Wallace’s performance has drawn commentary from everyone about a role that usually doesn’t get that much attention.