Postmodern Debate and Rules Lawyering

No wonder we can't get reasoned discourse anymore. [Link]

As the Chronicle of Higher Education and others have reported, some college debaters now practice "postmodern debate," in which they argue theoretical questions about the process of debate rather than the topic at hand. In a match this year between New York University and Towson State University, the topic was supposed to be agriculture tariffs, but an African-American Towson State debater used the cross-examination of her Asian-American opponent to ask such questions as "Why did you make a conscious decision to read as fast as you did?" and "Do you think that debate is multicultural?" Later in the debate, according to the Chronicle, the Towson State student read diary entries about having experienced racism on the debate circuit. She and her teammate won.

Predictably, debate traditionalists (like me) are upset about this postmodern turn. A commentator on the National Review academic blog said that the trend toward postmodern debate "shouldn't surprise anyone familiar with the increasing politicization of college campuses these days."

But postmodern debate was not invented at the schools where we expect to find postmodern theory. You won't find those debate tactics at Yale, where I once coached, or at New York University. Rather, they have a foothold in the debate world of large state schools and land-grant universities, in part as a response to the competitive policy-debate style that emphasizes insider jargon and super-fast talking.

This debating style began in the 1970s as a populist movement against the more traditional oratory that had always characterized both college debate and political speechifying. Rather than try to win points with wit, allusion or elegant turns of phrase, debaters began loading down their speeches with multiple arguments; the expectation arose that one had to meet all of an opponent's arguments and that to "drop" an argument meant losing the debate. Thus debaters began skipping pleasantries, speaking fast and using ugly shorthand ("D.A." for disadvantage, for example).

One of the great innovators of this style of debate was Laurence Tribe, the Harvard Law professor, who as a younger man taught at Georgetown's debate summer camp. (The Ivy League-educated Mr. Tribe's role in ruining debate is discussed in "The Decline of Debate," a 1988 New Republic article.) But the most enthusiastic converts to the competitive policy style were scrappy workhorses from high schools and lesser colleges who wanted a level playing field. When debate was about majestic oratory, the naturally charming golden boys, or those polished by prep schools, had a distinct advantage; but when debate rounds could be won with technicalities and sheer quantity of argumentation, then industry could carry the day.

And once debate was unmoored from oratory, once its rules ceased to be about genuine persuasion, what was to stop the rules from changing further, in directions postmodern or otherwise? Policy debate is no longer training young men and women for participation in civic discourse. Is it any wonder that coaches, like the de-pantsed Mr. Shanahan, may not feel bound by the rules of that discourse?

They found a loophole and have made the most of it.