About that Posting Everyday Gimmick

As a side note, and on the side here, I really like how I’ve figured out how to embed what I’m currently listening to into the blogposts. It is sort of a throwback to my LiveJournal days of 2001, 2002, where I used to post koans and various poems and commentary to it and treated it almost like how I treated facebook for the first few years of its existence in my life. 

I sort of miss the old days of near universal blogging among my friends, but it could be just nostalgia. Either way, I still keep in touch with a ton of people that would be hard to keep in contact with in the absence of social media. I think it’s pretty good.

Also pretty good: The new Above and Beyond Album, which I have been listening to quite a bit since it came out last Friday. Really great stuff, but I expected it to be a pretty amazing album.

Also Monster Hunter World turned out to be one of the most amazing video games I have ever played, so that was also a relief. I am so happy that two things I have been looking forward to turned out to be exactly at the high level of quality I hoped. 

But what hasn’t been of good quality is everything else. It’s pretty obvious I’m not going to meet my daily blogging quota, although I’m really going to try. I just really don’t find the time for it, versus the excuse I give myself which is that I don’t have the time for it. That’s pretty untrue. I spend a lot of time on stuff that really doesn’t matter as much as doing some writing does. It helps a lot with my frustration and anxiety and concerns about everything that I let stew about in my head. 

Classes are going ok. I’m just really sort of concerned/frustrated about my more advanced class, which isn’t going very well at all in my view as it seems I just talk about some ideas in the text and everyone sort of stares at me. There’s a bit of conversation, but it’s not quite where I’d like it to be just yet so it’s going to take a bit of adjustment. I think I might have assigned the readings in the wrong order which is not something you want to realize when you are a couple of weeks in. I just feel like the ease of which teaching used to come has left for whatever reason, and I need to figure out some exercises to recover it or to reestablish it. Maybe not the ease, but the perceived quality (maybe it was never there?) needs to happen. It might be a necessary part of the whole machine of teaching, making the dynamic happen so that people can engage ideas and make them their own. 

Related to the daily post goal, and teaching is the idea of the gimmick. I’m trying to teach and produce gimmick-free stuff. Gimmick free pedagogy is pretty hard. I didn’t realize how much we rely on tiny points here and there, little blog posts, discussion board entries, and things like that to create the perception that we are teaching and that learning is happening. As I listen to undergraduates talk I am collecting my university-gimmick assortment and hoping to design the anti to it which may or may not include a dote. It might just be oppositional. But what better thing to offer at the university but a space where the oppositional can be cultivated and practiced? I want to recover (?) a classroom space where there is generation and sharing of thinking, not production of material that meets an expectation of what should be there. But this is really hard, as I didn’t realize how dependent on these tropes I am. 

We will see how it turns out. As for this space, I hope to write here more for you, whoever you are (right now you are me, reading this as it appears on the screen, but later you will most likely be someone else). But I only want to do it when it really feels like it matters, whether it actually matters or not is irrelevant.                                                                                                                                           

 

All Illegal Drugs Should be Legal: The Motion Debate Review for January

The last Motion Debate in New York city was the first to include an expert on the topic as a speaker. This was really wonderful in terms of giving the audience a great perspective from a professional researcher and advocate on the topic. But it throws into question the idea of the role of debate in society – one that has been wrestled with many times over the history of debate pedagogy. Should public debate include experts in the field of debate and should they be treated in the same way we would non-expert debaters: Given the same time constraints, side constraints and the like.

When I think about this I think about many examples of experts taking part in debates and refusing to follow the constraints or limitations of debate based on their expert status. This didn’t happen at The Motion, primarily because the speaker was not a professor. I find university professors to be the people who are most incapable of following the rules of debate, probably because in their classes or in their daily life they are used to being the ones who set those boundaries and limits, and they determine who gets to speak and who doesn’t. University professors are also a particular kind of expert that might not be suited for debates. The reason why is that their expertise is captured within a fidelity to field and mostly to other experts and to a perfection of a scholarly form or scholarly endpoint. Very rarely do professors act on the feeling to engage publics, and when they do they might consider it a one-way interaction. At least this is what scholarly training for academia leans toward.

An expert, even a Ph.D. who is not and does not go that route is most likely to be familiar with general audiences and be more comfortable meeting the constraints of the everyday world. Publication for them is a difficult and limited process involving many barriers, as opposed to scholarly publication which is fidelity to form. In debates such experts are much more comfortable speaking in such restrictions because the world is “such restrictions.”

I think in this debate the expert put on a clinic in how to engage publics with complicated research in order to show how to draw a conclusion in terms of policy. He also put on a clinic in debate as well, showing very clearly how debate is about selection and audience, not getting it right, establishing definitions, or connecting ideas to grandiose truths about government or economics. It was great to hear him patch the information into clear policy recommendations for the audience.

That being said, I am not a fan and probably won’t be of having experts debate. This to me seems to diminish or destroy debate as a source of knowledge in itself. For example, Intelligence Squared, the highly popular expert-based debate podcast, features experts debating where debate simply becomes the dressing to expert discourse. Most expert discourse within the debates has no distinction from expert discourse in other forms such as long form journalism, interview on TV, or the like.

Debate is like an envelope or a box for intelligence squared to re-present expert discourse in a novel way. Nothing unexpected or new arrives, we get just what we expect from these performances. The experts sound and act like experts and speak on the motion on the side that their expertise pushes them toward. The audience is simply asked to consume this discourse in a novel form but there’s no demand on the status or structure of knowledge, no real engagement in what constitutes the terms of the motion. One finds what one wants to and expects to find.

What about a modification to the Intelligence Squared formula where we pair an expert with an amateur, someone who is self-directed or taught in that field. Andy Merrifield’s book The Amateur, argues very persuasively that the amateur is not in opposition to the expert, but a necessarily compliment to the expert. The amateur’s knowledge is not inferior to the expert, but different. Each person on her own would be hard-pressed to find the whole picture, but persuaded on their own that they know more than their compliment: The expert is certain that the amateur does not know enough, or the right way; the amateur is convinced the expert is blinded by the rules, regulations, and isolation of the university.

Pedagogically this is a slam dunk to pair experts with student debaters as everyone benefits in some way, except perhaps audiences who will tend to bend toward the voice of the expert as a default. This is why I would rather have experts comment on debates that are conducted by regular folks who care about the topic and are interested in it. The question of debate knowledge comes to the front. Without the typical props of expertise or statistics or monologues, but just logos, just words. The expert can then express surprise that the discourse fell into the norms of expert conversation or that it touched on elements of the “professional” conversation without having that background. The power of this comes from demonstrating how conversation in a reason-giving format of discourse can produce an equivalent, if more open or more pluralistic, discourse as the experts can when talking. The locus of authority in what to believe comes from the people, or the audience, instead of the expert, which might worry people. But what should worry people is how expertise, as a discourse, is designed to eliminate alternatives to its own official articulation under the guise of progress. Thomas Kuhn has detailed this in science, but it follows that most fields would be the dual adoption of a method of research and knowledge generation, and a method of knowledge policing and defense.

So debate with laypeople for assembled audiences, however they manifest, will be constituted as subjects and with their corresponding agency by the rhetoric of the speakers. That rhetoric should be unpropped by expert convention in order to reveal the constructed nature of knowledge. Then we have another set of tools, another approach to evaluating knowledge when usually we are not asked to evaluate knowledge at all, but claims, and usually just asked to learn how to accept expert discourse while merely entertaining other discourses out there.

So with that, what did I think of this debate?

No term describes intercollegiate debaters better than “trained incapacity,” that wonderful ideas from Thorsten Veblen fleshed out by Kenneth Burke. A trained incapacity is when one’s training to do something well eliminates the appropriate or effective interpretation of a situation or phenomena. The over-determination of good training leads us sometimes to make the wrong decision, which reveals our fidelity not to getting the read of the situation right, but getting our loyalty and piety toward our orientation or perspective right.

The training of debate which is the curriculum of the tournament, the contest alone, is responsible for all the strange asides and front-loading of the intercollegiate debater speech. The first speaker on the affirmative spends about 3 minutes telling us what the debate is about and isn’t about – as if the audience wasn’t there to make those determinations based on the arguments they hear! The debaters in this debate are speaking the holy language of the debate tournament. They see the word “debate” and believe that there is but one operation available. They believe that they are there to win the debate by conducting an appropriate debate, by definition. This is opposed to the perspective that one is not there to win or lose the debate but to provide reasons and persuade. Intercollegiate debaters are persuading, but they are persuading themselves that they are “doing it right,” that they are doing debate correctly, meeting the needs of debate, not the audience, and conforming to the requirements of the contest alone.

One of the strangest things about intercollegiate, or tournament debaters is their reliance on the vernacular of the tournament as an inventional resource. That is, they use particular phrases as pauses in the speech so they can come up with the next argument. Examples would be “What we tell you on our side of the house,” “The other side of the house wants you to believe,” “What we bring you today,” etc. Many times you can hear them refer to one another by the names imposed by the tournament, “government” and “opposition” which made for some pretty funny sentences. My favorite is near the end of the debate, where the speaker on Opposition says: “Government wants you to believe that government can’t provide solvency.” Another great one is, “Thanks to our opposition the government.” Maybe these things don’t mean that much, but I believe them to be clear evidence of where the speaker’s attention lies – it’s with the abstract ideal of a tournament speech, that debate is something to aspire to, to reach for as an ideal, instead of the view of debate put forward by the rhetorical tradition: Adapting and presenting one’s reasons for the audience to help aid them in understanding.

“we on the government side,” is something that no public speaker should ever say. But the problem is that the curriculum of tournament debating puts perfection of its arbitrary methods as perfection in argumentation. The things that are supposedly required at a tournament to be a good speech are only a good speech in that venue. One of the other odd things that they did was seem unable to talk about the issue without talking about problem-solving, or the opposing team’s arguments as unable to fix the problem. For example, one speaker on opposition mentioned decriminalization in a point of description to help orient the audience to his point of view. The next speaker in favor of the motion spent a ton of time talking about how decriminalization doesn’t work, missing the point entirely. The opposition speaker was pointing out how one doesn’t need to criminalize people in order to deal with the issues of drugs. Affirmative/pro side heard “decriminalization” and launched into arguments against it, as they have been taught to do by the tournament. There are no statements in tournament debating that are not identities that must be attacked.

Again the discourse of the expert had the best nuance and best articulation of what persuasion looks like. Take a complicated set of data and put it into (and onto)the terms the audience understands. Instead of being there to instruct the audience what to think about drug policy, he was there to offer interpretations of research for them and explain how he drew his conclusions. Contrast that to the collegiate debate approach, which is often an instructional capacity. Intercollegiate debaters often will speak to audiences as if they don’t know what the valuable arguments and topoi are, they often will speak at length about the value of rights, or the role of the government. This instructional mode might come from the requirements of winning debate tournament rounds, but it could also come from the idea that debaters have special access to what debate “ought to” look like, that the form of debate in the everyday is not “true” or “real” debate and they have to do extra instruction to make sure the audience understands how to evaluate the debate.

Experts should be debate commentators on issues they know something about, and I also think this probably extends to so-called debate experts, those whose experience with debating comes primarily from the limited world of debating contests. The curriculum there is not one aimed at public audiences. The curriculum is aimed at winning tournament debates. The technical mastery here might have some value, as well as the time competitive debaters should spend reading about issues comes in handy, but I think it’s better as commentary for the audience and the debaters rather than the material of the debate. Of course you have to agree with me that the function of debate goes beyond eristics or making a decision, but lies more in the realm of questoning whether the capacity to make a decision has been met. 

 

 

Spring 2018 Semester Starts Today

It’s really snowing out there. Good way to start the term as I have been feeling unrested and unready for another semester. Thinking that I’ll try to do the daily post again just to kick start what I’m thinking, feeling, and how I’m approaching things. Thought this soundtrack would be a good way to start this quiet, eerie day but I’m just sort of using it as background as I surf through some semi-interesting Lit Hub and Chronicle of Higher Ed essays. Not the most productive first day.

I would kind of like a year of quiet reading I think sometimes but then i know that would quickly convert into a year of halfheartedly playing video games and not showering until 4PM. The situation is not the root of my lack of motivation. But what is?

Pretty into a few writing projects but not really into writing right now. Not really finding interest in securing the time for it. I guess I’m wondering about audience a bit too much. If I write an academic-style article that seems pretty automatic but who would read it? And would I want them to read it?

If I just publish here who would read it? Is this really what publishing looks like?

I like Medium, that seems like a good site, but then who’s reading that? Is that who I want reading stuff?

I think I’m going to go for a double approach, maybe triple: Publish here, on Medium, and also on Academia. I think some of my writing isn’t really academic enough to be on Academia, but it might get some attention.

I spent a lot of time over the holiday break with my old book idea. I think now’s probably the best time to be writing about collegiate debate programs since there’s more choice than ever about what you (you as a college) can do with it. It’s a good time to shop new theories of it. Practicing the difficult art of speech before audiences without compromising what you want to say and without pandering to the audience seems like the theme of most of my writing. It’s really about teaching.

I think right now is the lowest point of confidence and highest point of discouragement I’ve had with the way debating is done by institutions at all levels. I think that this is good news, as there’s no lower point to hit. Now the only way is up. And perhaps articulation, re-articulation of my concerns to myself (and anyone who wants to read them) could lead to iteration and reiteration of what debate should look like. And from that comes the monograph I think.

There are two projects here – one a more academic oriented book that will come first then secondarily one that I think might be a good popular press book about debating in the everyday. The difficulty in doing two projects speaks to how frustratingly distant scholarly publishing is from every other kind of publishing – which would be publishing the majority of people actually want to read. More on this in later posts; thinking about how to marshall a good defense and good practice that tenured faculty could use to support digital depositories and open peer review, which are essential (in my mind) parts to any long term survival strategy of the modern university.

So this is really just an “outline the projects” post which I think is ok for now, the snow is stopping and I probably should get out and get some things accomplished. Here’s to a post every day!

 

 

Happy Birthday Snap Specs

If you don’t follow me on Snapchat you are missing out. Today is a very important anniversary!


Snapspecs Vending Machines in the pop-up shop on 5th avenue in Manhattan, 2017.

Snapspecs Vending Machines in the pop-up shop on 5th avenue in Manhattan, 2017.

Here we have the birthplace of my much loved Snap spectacles which I use pretty much every day to record the various places that I walk to, the campus, and my thoughts about everything. And don’t forget – most of the things I eat are recorded there too. 

There are many more videos like this to come in the future. This is just a sample of what my snap specs have allowed me to accomplish in life. 

They really have worked out great. It was freezing this time last year (17 degrees F) and it was icy and snowy, but I think it was worth it. it’s one of the few gimmicky tech things that I still can say I use every day (or almost every day) since I bought it. 

 

If you don’t follow, consider this your open invitation. I am pretty good about updating although my recent interest in Pokemon Go has be using them a bit less than normal, I’m sure I’ll be back up to normal posting volume in a couple of days. There’s also just not a lot of reasons to leave the house right now. AGDQ is on, and I have a lot to read and write about. Plus there’s a semester coming right around the corner to get ready for. More on that in another post. 

for now, happy first birthday, Specs! I sure hope your battery keeps its charge and I don’t break you by casually shoving you in my backpack. if you want to see more snap specs action in its natural environment, just follow me on Snapchat. 


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If not, don’t worry I will most likely post the videos here too if they are relevant. 

Zeb Freeman


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This is a bit of an unusual post but I felt like writing down a bunch of memories I had about my grandfather, pictured with me here in 2014. He passed away a few days ago after a nice, long life. I figure this might be relevant in so much as it could be a eulogy, so that’s rhetoric, right? It really doesn’t matter; there’s no other venue so you are stuck with it being posted here. 

It’s also strange I felt like writing something about him but don’t write at all about my mom’s passing which will be 5 years ago this spring. I think that there are some things that perhaps are too close to you to write about, and others that are too far, or you force yourself to care to write about. Then there are events like this where it seems the only thing to do is write about it. I figure a good eulogy is one that chronicles a lot of good stories, good memories, so that’s what I wrote. 


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Earliest memories are as a very small child in Arkansas, where I was born, driving out with him in a car that looked like this. I’m pretty sure it was a 1970s Ford Bronco and it was this bright blue color. This picture conforms to my memories but maybe not to what he really had. When I knew him, he was on one of many careers, raising cattle on the Levee next to the Mississippi river. 


this picture is almost exactly like I remember the roads going out to the pasture in West Memphis.

this picture is almost exactly like I remember the roads going out to the pasture in West Memphis.

I remember going with him in this Bronco out to a place we called “The Levee” which I found out in later years was the fertile side of the dams constructed on the Mississippi river by late 19th century and early 20th century settlers of West Memphis. The Levee is a sort of earthen dam designed to stop regular floodplain activity, or at least control it so you can build. When the Mississippi – an American sort of Nile river – would regularly crest, the silt deposits and other detritus would remain when it receded, making the land full of grasses, plants, and other wonderful things for grazing on the safe side of it. Zeb raised cows on the levy, and I would go “help” him with the various tasks he had to do every day out there. Mostly I named the cows, ran around, and tried to catch frogs that had strayed too far from the river.

Zeb taught me songs about the Mississippi but the only one I can remember to this day is “Old Man River” which he used to sing in a very deep baritone voice from the driver’s seat of the Bronco. Jerome Kern would have approved. I wonder if this is the ancient, ancestral home of my love of Broadway music? I’m sure there were other local or traditional songs he sang that I wish I could remember, but nope, I just remember singing Broadway songs about the river as we drove along  either coming or going from taking care of the cows. 


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The roar of the Mississippi River is not easily forgotten, it’s such a low rumble that doesn’t fit with what appears. Thinking back to the times where we went down to the shore of it – very few, maybe only twice due to the amount of mud, the indeterminable places where the land ends and the river begins, and how we’d have to leave the Levee and drive somewhere to get a good look at it. Not sure where we went, but it impressed me. Whitecapping like a sea but narrow like a river, muddy, and full of very large tree trunks and other things that had been snagged by it as it moved along. Still a great image in my mind, amplified by being so young and never hearing water make any other noise than rain, the Gulf of Mexico, or turning on a tap. It was, and remains, somewhat foreign and familiar.

It was the banks of the Mississippi where I first shot a rifle. I was around 8 years old, and had no experience at all with guns. Zeb had a very simple one, probably a 22 or something similar, and found a piece of cardboard and put it in the split of a trunk of a tree and then helped me aim. I remember pulling the trigger, and winding up on my back, looking straight up at the sky. There was simply a bang, then the tall trunks of the trees pointing skyward. Zeb’s head entered the circle of trees looking down at me. “You ok boy?” he said, then after seeing I was fine, “It has quite a kick doesn’t it?” And grinning.

He had more jobs than I know about. He did everything. His family was in the grocery business, and somehow sent Zeb to Arkansas A&M for college. Once I had a look at his freshman yearbook and saw a long dedication to him written by a leader of the debate team. “That was my roommate,” Zeb explained. He never did it himself, but knew the members of the team. Of course. I can’t have one aspect of existence untouched by intercollegiate debating. Maybe this post suddenly became relevant to the theme of the blog?

Zeb did not do well in college, and returned to the grocery business after a year or so. He told me that he heard about Pearl Harbor and saw the bombers flying overhead as he drove deliveries. This motivated him to sign up for the Air Force and learned to fly. He was assigned to fly “the Hump” – a supply route between India and China. Given today’s aircraft this is not a big deal, but flying prop driven bombers without radar through those peaks with only Sherpa-made maps and no weather forecasting ability was lethal. Zeb fell ill in the pre-deployment area and his team he trained with moved ahead to the base. After Zeb recovered, he arrived to find that not one of his team mates had survived their first two weeks of flights. He told me in an email he realized he was going to die there and there would be no coming back. He accepted it, and then began flying.

After the war, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, but thought dentistry looked interesting. He told me a story of watching a local dentist carving a model of some teeth. But undergraduate, let alone dental school, seemed prohibitively expensive. Right on cue, President Truman signed the G.I. Bill, guaranteeing money for college for those who served in the military. Zeb graduated from Southwestern University (another famous debate institution) and then the University of Tennessee Dental College and opened his practice in West Memphis. Eventually he bought the office building he rented space in. He retired, worked in the city doing various things, became a rancher (the time I have my earliest memories of him), real estate agent, college professor teaching chemistry at a local Christian college in rural Arkansas, and finally real retirement that brought him to Texas to be close to his family.

The last time I saw him was that next year, when my sister brought my nephew up to Fort Worth from Houston to visit him. He was very excited to meet his great grandson, but also surprised to see me. “I never thought I would see you again, you old buzzard,” he said, same old grin. We talked about the university and life in New York. Nearly every time I spoke with him he’d ask the same question: “How are they treatin’ you up in Yankeeland?” Pretty good for the most part. But as I reflect on my time with Zeb, I’m very grateful for the Mississippi River, for the cows, for Jerome Kern’s song,  for the time with him in that still very small town where I was born. I never spent much time there, but the memories I associate with Zeb are all Arkansas memories, a place that is obviously important in my life yet i know so little about. He was my connection to that place through these very simple events. And that’s how I remember him.