That Terrible Republican Debate

Image via Wikipedia

The other night I had to watch that terrible, terrible Republican debate on CNN. In between Tim Pawlenty’s impersonation of a bad John Edwards, and John King’s disturbing grunting when a candidate went over time (What’s wrong with just interrupting them, John? You are the moderator!) there were a few “arguments” made now and again. They were not good.  Why?

It’s always the same reason – this was not a debate. This was the argumentative version of speed-dating.

You got just enough time with each candidate to determine if you wanted to go to their website and read more. That was it. There were some arguments made by various candidates, here and there, but no debate was present.

In order to have a debate, one needs the following:

1. Agreement on a clear topic that can either be supported or rejected.

2. Agreement on who will represent each side of the topic.

3. Clash – One must advocate, and respond to advocacy

4. Equal Time – Each participant must have an equal amount of time to establish and refute arguments.

5. Judgement – Some decision should be rendered, even if it is by private ballot by the audience.

The Republican debate did not have any – not one – of these elements. And I wonder how many political debates do.

Will America ever see an actual debate during a Presidential campaign? We came close when the League of Women Voters used to control the Presidential Debates. But those times are long gone, stolen away by the Bipartisan Commission on Presidential Debates.

The CNN debate was run by a for-profit news agency – a corporation – so it was designed to be watchable and entertaining in so far as it was also designed to be relevant to the campaign.

Eventually we need more than speed dating. What the official Presidential debates give us is not much better.

That Terrible Republican Debate

Image via Wikipedia

The other night I had to watch that terrible, terrible Republican debate on CNN. In between Tim Pawlenty’s impersonation of a bad John Edwards, and John King’s disturbing grunting when a candidate went over time (What’s wrong with just interrupting them, John? You are the moderator!) there were a few “arguments” made now and again. They were not good.  Why?

It’s always the same reason – this was not a debate. This was the argumentative version of speed-dating.

You got just enough time with each candidate to determine if you wanted to go to their website and read more. That was it. There were some arguments made by various candidates, here and there, but no debate was present.

In order to have a debate, one needs the following:

1. Agreement on a clear topic that can either be supported or rejected.

2. Agreement on who will represent each side of the topic.

3. Clash – One must advocate, and respond to advocacy

4. Equal Time – Each participant must have an equal amount of time to establish and refute arguments.

5. Judgement – Some decision should be rendered, even if it is by private ballot by the audience.

The Republican debate did not have any – not one – of these elements. And I wonder how many political debates do.

Will America ever see an actual debate during a Presidential campaign? We came close when the League of Women Voters used to control the Presidential Debates. But those times are long gone, stolen away by the Bipartisan Commission on Presidential Debates.

The CNN debate was run by a for-profit news agency – a corporation – so it was designed to be watchable and entertaining in so far as it was also designed to be relevant to the campaign.

Eventually we need more than speed dating. What the official Presidential debates give us is not much better.

Pikes Peak Community College Joins Second Life Debating


Recently I have been using the language of building “machines” that “do things” as a metaphor for most everything happening intellectually around me. After the Denver Nationals hosted by Regis and The University of Denver I referred to the growing BP national circuit in the US as a machine that we are excited and thrilled to build, yet we are not quite sure of all the functions. What features are being built in that we can’t or won’t notice?

Second Life debating is similar to me. After the great debate on the 20th, last night I was invited to offer some comments on a debate held by Pikes Peak Community College Students on their virtual campus. I think it was an excellent demonstration of the potential of Second Life and debate, as none of us in the room had met before, and we were thousands of miles apart. Even so, the debate went on fine, and I could comfortably listen and take notes from my (soon to be under renovations) office.
The topic was “Women professors make better teachers than male professors.” Pretty interesting potential there. The format was a modified L-D format with shortened speeches and some built in prep time for questions. A pretty good beginner format I must say. I thought it worked well to create a debate that was not intimidating or overwhelming for brand new debaters.
I find myself less interested, or perhaps less distracted by the technical elements of Second Life debating the more I do it. I attended a lot more to the debate itself, which became much more a debate about whether women and men have measurable or distinct differences rather than about whether one is a better sort of teacher than the other. I think that the elements were there to have that debate, but everyone became bogged down in information. This is why I always paradoxically say the less information the better the debate.
Also I think that LD and other such formats attempt to run away from debate about larger ideas, ideology, goals and principles. The debate tends to condense around smaller matters of statistical validity, source verification, and the collision of facts. A larger frame really helps make the information presented “do something” to or for the minds of the audience.
But the statistics and fact-based approach has benefits in a format that is disembodied. No clear way outside of vocal variety to indicate passion or conviction. The bodies are not vibrant. There is a connection lost to the aesthetic dimension of debating.
This debate helped me think about a hybrid Second Life format that captures the conviction and big-picture sensibility of BP/public debating along with the hard evidence nature of LD and Policy debating. Both are not well suited as they are for Second Life and need some adjustment for the virtual world. I hope to think about this more as I have an upcoming project – I’ve been invited to work on how to transition a High School CX debate format into Second Life. The biggest challenge there is the demand for shared documents during the debate. How can you normalize this in the Second Life environment?
The first of many questions, I’m sure.

Rejecting the “Righteous Four”

Doing some last-minute preparation before our departure for New Haven in the morning for the Yale IV, which generally involves printing out maps, train schedules, hotel confirmation numbers and tax exemption forms. Prepping for a tournament is pretty easy after doing so many so close together – one of the things about adjusting to BP style is the run-up to the big tournament happens in the fall, since Worlds is held over the Winter intercession. This means spring is lighter in feeling, even though the U.S. Nationals is an important tournament. But it’s not the same as the October-December blast of tournaments. In policy debate, the run-up ends either in February/March, when the regional qualifiers for the NDT are held, or CEDA nationals, or perhaps both depending on your preferences and your orientation to and within debate.
One big difference was pretty clearly pointed out to me in a couple of conversations I had surrounding the Hart House tournament at The University of Toronto. This was a fabulous tournament, but a few American debaters started a conversation about how wrong it was that they might have been forced into taking positions they found morally offensive. They were ok with losing though because their arguments were “right.” I call this idea the “theory of the righteous four.”
This theory postulates that it’s not only fine, but morally acceptable to get ranked a four in a debate where you, by virtue of your position on the table, had to say or engage in argumentation that you find morally or ethically objectionable from your own political views. If you (rightly) refuse to engage, you will get ranked four. But that’s ok, because you are on the side of justice, rightness, virtue, and many other noble truths in life.
When I first came to coach in the Northeastern U.S. in 2001, I first encountered this idea. I found it baffling – a bizarre at best, unhealthy at worst conflation of speech in debate and personal politics. The best description I mustered to myself at the time was that it was a simple logical fallacy – substitution of effect for cause – that made people think, “because she’s saying this she must believe it.” But surely, only the most rank amateur would believe such a post hoc. But there were a number of students around the circuit that would say to me during the criticism, “Don’t you dare indict my voice.” The conflation of debate with personal advocacy I found then to be confusing and dangerous, and I believe the same thing now.
First, it’s a fallacy – probably a good idea to reject “effect for cause” reasoning. But the more critical claim at work here is the political function of a debate tournament. If you believe that debate is important because it is one of the last places where every idea can be treated on its merits with fair, critical evaluation then you have to accept, I think, that occasionally you will have to inhabit ideas that are not your own. These ideas are not always better ideas than your own; they can easily be ideas that you have had, or that you entertained and rejected on ethical or moral grounding. But either way, you should still embody them again, and in a manner that is not a straw dog, but a serious, strategic attempt at defending the idea.
The reason why is in service to debate as a whole. Good ideas glimmer more when the light of their alternative is present. Better, more persuasive accounts of thoughtful ideas can be crafted if someone smart is taking the other, more insidious side. Everyone benefits if a fair, persuasive attempt to represent all appropriate (read: kairotic) arguments are attempted in the debate. Relevancy and attention to nuance must be considered as well. In the end, the benefits of debate are extended when the debate is handled for the sake of debate, and not individual personal politics.
Here is what happens under the “righteous four” model – all of the discourse in debate shifts to the left. Instead of developing insights into argumentation that has a large representation in the public, the discourse becomes about “out-lefting” one another. If nobody will inhabit the “reprehensible” ground, then no chance appears for understanding why an argument we believe to be a priori “evil” would ever find assent. I would also suggest that those who refuse to take up objectionable positions within debates ensure a future of assent to those same reprehensible positions – they intellectually disarm all participants in the round from valuable defensive practice against such ideas. Just because you don’t prefer a certain weapon doesn’t mean that you should forgo training in how to defend yourself from that weapon.
A great example of this is the recent Hart House IV final round – This house would not contact undiscovered human populations. After a fairly good proposition case was established, the Opening Opposition speaker stood up and did something incredible – the first words out of her mouth were, “Madam Speaker, we kinda like exploitation.” Brilliant. Is it because it’s offensive? Because it’s rejected by modern conceptions of the good, liberal politics and the like? Is it because it advocates violence and mayhem and that’s cool? Not any of these. It’s because it is an argument that is both relevant and contains the potential for great intellectual investigation within the context of this debate.
The debate was framed around the idea that contact, historically, leads to exploitation. I think it is intellectually responsible in the service of debate to offer the idea that exploitation is a situational term. Politically, this loaded language can do a number on an audience. It is up to the skilled debater to give it the nuance and articulation it needs to become a believable point. Is it really exploitative in all cases? Is the connection definitely solid? And in which instances would we prefer “exploitation” over the alternative of no contact whatsoever? These are the major clash points that arise from entertaining an idea that many, especially those in the academy fields of anthropology, sociology and others would find to be a repugnant position. Everything hinges on the definition, and the nuance of the speaker in establishing that definition and its limit.
Unfortunately, the speaker backed off of pursuing this line of reasoning possibly due to the laughter and reaction of the audience. But it’s a shame she did. I think they could have won with a careful analysis of what this means, instead of the fear of a neo-liberal “bad word” can generate. “You said a dirty word” is not that persuasive a reason to reject someone, unless you are a High School teacher.
In certain debate communities, such as NPDA and American Policy debate, you can find regions where people do occupy ground where, if the audience is unskilled in the basics of debate practice, their personal view might be mistaken for their advocacy. I think we in the BP community want to provide the same excellent tradition of switch-side argumentation that these other communities have provided. Avoiding the sentimentally nice idea that “I lost because I refuse to compromise my principles” is a very important step in the service to much larger principles of intellectual rigor, argumentative development, and persuasive realism – all of which serve the members of the community in their development not as political radicals, but something much better: Moderates who critically examine public discourse and are not afraid to entertain the idea that they might not know it all, they might need more information, and more time might be needed to figure out what’s best – all of which work very well in the service of pluralistic democracy.

Pedagogy of Skillful Means

My body seems to know when I have weekends off from debate and schedules all my illnesses for those times. Yesterday and today I’ve been fighting a nasty cough and not really feeling motivated to do much of anything. I’m about to take my laundry down in a few, and I went grocery shopping yesterday, but that’s about all I can handle for now.

I’ve been working on my larger project of attempting to find a non-rational, non-propositional justification for academic debate since I can’t do much else but sit around, and I came across the wonderful concept from Zen Buddhism of “skillful means.” What I’ve been researching is the koan (kung-an) as a pedagogical method. What I’ve found so far is that it suggests a rhetoric of teaching and learning quite different from what’s in vogue right now.

Here is Thich Nhat Hanh describing it, in relation to kung-ans:

The kung-an is a useful instrument in the work of awakening, just as a pick is a useful instrument in working on the ground. What is accomplished from working on the ground depends on the person doing the work and not just on the pick. The Kung-an is not an enigma to resolve; this is why we cannot exactly say that it is a theme or subject of meditation. A kung-an is only a skillful means to help a practitioner reach his or her goal. – Zen Keys, 57.

The koan, or kung-an is a tool that helps the student work independently on another problem – the problem of understanding. It is not a thesis, or main idea, or “curriculum.” It’s not a clever intro. I think it is a rhetorical “wedge” that allows the field of “to be understood” to be “mined/mind” (Going with the metaphor here). The metaphor suggests that as a tool it is only as good as the skill of the person who is wielding it. It must be crafted to the particulars of the situation of master/student, then it becomes “merely” skillful means.


So skillful means are a trick? Some sort of clever educational activity? Hanh goes a bit further with it:


To help practitioners cross the river to the shore of awakening, Zen masters hold out the staff of skillful means. But the disciple must grab hold of it. If his eyes remain shut and his mind blocked, the practitioner will miss the staff. (72)

I find this entire discussion fascinating, as it appears to line up with a clearly conservative pedagogy – the blame lies with the student if he or she can’t “grasp the staff of skillful means.” The student has to see it, realize what it is, and grab onto it. If he or she doesn’t, well then, that’s tough. Or perhaps they are not smart enough.


But “skillful means” cuts both ways. The phrase suggests that the means deployed are chosen, refined, calculated, and (most importantly) produced by the master. The master is making a judgement as to what “skillful means” to extend. It is his or her choice, and to extend the exact same means to all students is to fail one’s pedagogical ethic.

A master must know the mentality of his disciple well in order to propose a kung-an that is appropriate. Every master meets success sometimes, but also knows failure when he proposes an inappropriate kung-an. (61)

Clearly the failure is not the student’s all the time. The master must use a “skillful means” that is rhetorically appropriate – it must be recognizable as help for the student. This is the opposite interpretation we get of Zen practice from popular culture, where the master must offer puzzle within puzzle that the student (near the end of the film) recognizes as simple liberal modernism, and finds within his heart the strength to push on toward his uncontroversial quest to eliminate two-dimensional evil from the world (normally with a flying kick).

Negotiation and discrimination are also a part of the rhetoric of Zen pedagogy. If the kung-an is the instrument handed to the student for his or her own labor toward understanding, then the master must be careful not to give it too early or late, and also must make sure the student stays interested long enough to reach the moment of “skillful means.” However, “skillful means” could be extended to describe the rhetoric of the entire master/student relationship, which at first glance appears Hegelian, but I don’t think it fits. There is a different economy at play here, and I think it’s one of the elimination of any fixed points from which one could identify with the opposite term. Instead, Zen masters attempt through “skillful means” the recognition that one is always already “master” and always already “student.” The distinction between the two terms is something that can count as a “skillful means,” but it is clearly the opposite of the goal of Zen practice. This is why Hanh usually uses the adjective “mere” when describing it.

As for debate, do we use “skillful means” to extend assistance to students? Or do we toss one ladder in the water and hope they find it?

Do we take responsibility for the students’ failure to understand, or do we recognize our failure to provide “skillful means” for the topos “to be understood.”

How much time do we waste trying to explain to students “here is the finger, the finger is very important, we must always look to the finger, the finger will show you the way,” when the moon shines brightly just above our head?