They say everyone should have a hobby. Mine is debating. Not just arguing, informally – although analysis of everything, all the time, comes naturally now – but formal, competitive debate. One of my favourite quotes is from Ursula le Guin’s novel, The Dispossessed:
“They argued because they liked argument, liked the swift run of the unfettered mind along the paths of possibility, liked to question what was not questioned”
Debating is fast, competitive and intense. It requires concentration, quick thinking, engagement, knowledge, confidence and wit. It’s a great way to feel alive. That’s what people say about adventure sports. I suppose this is a little bit like an adventure sport, testing yourself, pushing your limits, adrenaline coursing through your veins.
It’s also addictive, in a way. Once you first learn the joy of being in the thick of that logical argumentation, of the shared experience of contemplating different solutions to complex real-world problems, with the tools of analysis, argumentation and persuasion, you either love it or you hate it.
Debate was the reason I went to Botswana at the end of last year. Every year, University students from around the world gather together to test their skills against the best in the world. For almost 10 days, they argue, in debate venues, over drinks, on game drives, immersing themselves in the incredible intellectual stimulation of coming head-to-head, on a contentious issue, with someone from a completely different context, paradigm, continent. The experience is so all-consuming that, for that little time, the world outside that bubble seems to fade away.
The events are part of the reason debating hooks people in. The people are another part. Because debating is an adversarial system, you learn, if you are a debater, to enjoy an adversarial relationship without it becoming unpleasant. You can handle friendly competition and disagreeing is not the end of a conversation, it is the beginning. You process news and information (especially news and information about far-away places) through the lens of a debating – “how will that help my argument?”, “hey, that is a clear violation of this international treaty I first heard about in a debate last night!”, “there are such strong normative arguments against those new tax breaks”, etc. You find yourself wanting to discuss news, politics, economics, with other debaters, for the logical analysis they will bring to the situation, because they will be interested in seeing both sides, because they will probably all have different perspectives, because they will argue about it and in the arguing, in the testing of ideas, you will form your own opinions and learn.
After years of constructing funding proposals and media releases about debating, years of talking about how it teaching people research skills and produces exceptional public speakers, I know, deep down, that that is not the point. It’s true, but it’s not the point. The point, the real reason we debate, happens in the room. It is that moment, after just a few minutes of thinking about it, when you stand up and present, in 7 minutes, the best arguments, using exactly the right information, constructed perfectly, delivered with wit and eloquence, the best, most persuasive arguments, and you sit down – adrenaline still pumping, feeling incredibly alive – and you know you’ve gotten it right or you’ve done better than ever before and (or) you’ve won a tough room.
Putting yourself out there every time, using your intellect, your experiences, your knowledge and your emotions to build a case and then putting it out there for others – whose skills and intellect you respect – to attack and tear down, takes courage. Doing it again and again takes determination. Doing it well takes training and practice and time. It’s worth it when it works. And it’s worth it because debating lets you slowly fall in love with the wonder of ideas and “the swift run of the unfettered mind along the paths of possibility”.
They say everyone should have a hobby. Mine is debating. Not just arguing, informally – although analysis of everything, all the time, comes naturally now – but formal, competitive debate. One of my favourite quotes is from Ursula le Guin’s novel, The Dispossessed:
“They argued because they liked argument, liked the swift run of the unfettered mind along the paths of possibility, liked to question what was not questioned”
Debating is fast, competitive and intense. It requires concentration, quick thinking, engagement, knowledge, confidence and wit. It’s a great way to feel alive. They say that about adventure sports. I suppose this is a little bit like an adventure sport, testing yourself, pushing your limits, adrenaline coursing through your veins.
It’s also addictive, in a way. Once you first learn the joy of being in the thick of that logical argumentation, of the shared experience of contrasting different solutions to complex, real-world problems, with the tools of analysis, argumentation and persuasion, you either love it or you hate it.
Debate was the reason I went to Botswana at the end of last year. Every year, University students from around the world gather together to test their skills against the best in the world. For almost 10 days, they argue, in debate venues, over drinks, on game drives, immersing themselves in the incredible intellectual stimulation of coming head-to-head, on a contentious issue, with someone from a completely different context, paradigm, continent. The experience is so all-consuming that, for that little time, the world outside that bubble seems to fade away.
The events are part of the reason debating hooks people in. The people are another part. Because debating is an adversarial system, you learn, if you are a debater, to enjoy an adversarial relationship without it becoming unpleasant. You can handle friendly competition and disagreeing is not the end of a conversation, it is the beginning. You process news and information (especially news and information about far-away places) through the lens of a debating – “how will that help my argument?”, “hey, that is a clear violation of this international treaty I first heard about in a debate last night!”, “there are such strong normative arguments against those new tax breaks”, etc. You find yourself wanting to discuss news, politics, economics, with other debaters, for the logical analysis they will bring to the situation, because they will be interested in seeing both sides, because they will probably all have different perspectives, because they will argue about it and in the arguing, in the testing of ideas, you will form your own opinions and learn.
After years of constructing funding proposals and media releases about debating, years of talking about how it teaches people research skills and produces exceptional public speakers, I know, deep down, that that is not the point. It’s true, but it’s not the point. The point, the real reason we debate, happens in the room. It is that moment, after just a few minutes of thinking about it, when you stand up and present, in 7 minutes, the best arguments, using exactly the right information, constructed perfectly, delivered with wit and eloquence; the best, most persuasive arguments, and you sit down – adrenaline still pumping, feeling so incredibly alive – and you know you’ve gotten it right or you’ve done better than ever before or you’ve won a tough room.
Putting yourself out there every time – using your intellect, your experiences, your knowledge and your emotions to build a case and then putting it out there for debaters, whose skills and intellect you respect, to attack and tear down – takes courage. Doing it again and again takes determination. Doing it well takes training and practice and time. It’s worth it when it works. It’s worth it because debating lets you slowly fall in love with the wonder of ideas and “the swift run of the unfettered mind along the paths of possibility”.