Debate (written October 12, 2004)

It's funny how the weather effects the mood. It is snowing here. Not much and not consistently, but still, there is an affliction of foul weather that is creating a sense of melancholy in my brain. That, combined with nothing really to report (I'll spare you with the sordid details of staying up late for school - it really wasn't that exciting) leads me to post this essay that's been in the queue for quite awhile.

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I have this friend, a great guy; love him to death, who is the world greatest arguer. Now, I don’t say “greatest arguer” lightly. As 311 said, “In high school it was debate”, for me it was high school and college and two years after college. See, I must confess to having debated for 9 years spanning high school and college.

What is debate? Academic debate is not what you see on TV. It’s not John Kerry vs. George Bush in a staged show with 26 pages of rules. No, in debate, the only rule is time limits. You have a set amount of time to make speeches, ask questions, and prepare. After the time is gone, you’re done. Everything else is up for grabs. But this doesn’t tell you much about debate.

Academic debate isn’t what you would see in the United Nations, nor are you likely to see a debate in congress if you happen to watch CSPAN[1]. No, debate is not located anywhere in the real world, it’s only located in classrooms across the (US) country (and increasingly across the world). Academic debate is a lot like what you see in academic journals. Take International Security, for example. I was just reading[2] an article that argued that Japan is a militarized nation. The author explained the debate and then proceeded to make a series of devastating arguments against the notion that Japan is a military midget. That’s debate.

Another example, I once watched a debate in which one side advocated deploying a national missile defense. The other side made arguments that missile defenses don’t work, they provoke our enemies to build countermeasures, and increase the risk of war. It was an incredibly high level analysis conducted by both sides, something rarely replicated in academia, and certainly never in politics. The participants were high schoolers. That’s right. Not even old enough to vote and they were doing higher level policy analysis than 98% of the country is capable. Debate appeals to the brainiacts because of this.

But, debate is a perversion. It appeals to another type of person as well. And this is why I loved debate. See, I’m a closet speed freak. I love to do things fast. Drive fast, talk fast, smoke fast, eat fast. I’m always in a hurry. It’s just a personality trait that some Freudian would surely chalk up to some big worded development disorder that I probably learned about in Psych 101 but was too busy to remember. Now, why am I talking about being a speed freak? Easy. Debate involves two things: high level policy analysis and time limits. There’s a natural progression to talk as fast as you can. Debate as I knew it, more than anything, was a torrent of sound. You talk fast in an attempt to overwhelm your opponent, or to confuse them, or just because, in my case, you simply love it. Now, when I say “talk fast”, I’m not talking about the micromachines guy or even an auctioneer. No, that’s not on par with this. In debate, you’re making arguments, you’re reading evidence quotations from academic and media sources. It’s so fast that it takes a trained ear to understand. In fact, debate would be so much easier if it wasn’t fast. The entrance barriers would be so much lower. But, if anyone could walk in, stand at a podium, and discuss the merits of missile defenses in a conversation tone, it wouldn’t be debate. Instead, it would be something mainstream, something less. See, debate derives some of its mystery, some of its coolness, from the fact that it’s a distinctly uncool side culture than only a few are able or willing to participate in. When you actually become good at debate, then you go from being one of the huddled masses to a cool cat with nothing to fear. Never mind that it’s an absurdly small pond, sometimes it’s good to be the big fish.

But back to my friend, “the world’s greatest arguer”. As you can see, I don’t throw that phrase around lightly. My friend, however, deserves the label. Funny thing is though; my friend would be terrible at debate. So, there’s a difference between a debater and an arguer. John Kerry is a debater; George Bush is an arguer[3]. Debaters use reason and thought to attempt to achieve a certain goal. Arguers use reason and thought for no stated goal.[4] My friend is a great master simply because he can argue with anyone about anything for no reason at all. For example, he’s a great Yankees fan. He can’t help it, he grew up with the Yankees and he’s steeped in the tradition of Yankeeism.[5] So, if some nameless party was feeling adversarial and was to propose that Mariano Rivera shouldn’t make the Hall of Fame because he’s only a closer, my friend would argue vehemently that Rivera is the best closer of all time and that he’s a sure fire first ballot choice once he retires. Of course, if you were to argue that grilled kielbasa was better than grilled hot dogs, he’d take you to the mat in favor of hot dogs.

See, that’s the great thing about an arguer, it doesn’t matter what the argument is. Arguers just want to argue. It’s what they do, it’s what defines them. This type of personality appeals to me for two reasons.

First, I like a good argument. Sometimes you just need to throw down with your friends on stuff than no one truly understands. I mean, assuming you’re not actually talking about something that either side is truly expert in; you’re going to have a lively, off the cuff debate. In conversation, these are often the best kind of arguments to have because neither of you really has any idea what the hell you’re talking about, which has the dual benefit of leading to lots of questionably accurate statements that are ultimately uncontestable.

But also, there’s another, more devious reason I enjoy this type of personality. See, you must understand a little about me. I’m an Aries, the war sign. It means I’m competitive; I like to stir shit up. So when I’m in an environment where I can gleefully stir shit up without any of said fecal matter landing on my personage, well, I take advantage.

On time in college[6], I had two friends that were the most diametrically opposed of anyone I have ever interacted with. One was a neo-hippie environmentalist vegetarian type[7]; the other was a card carrying member of the NRA, not to mention a regular “heat packer”. We had a party at my house one October on a day you may have heard of, Halloween. Knowing that both of my friends, who had so little in common that they never would have said more than five words to each other had I not been the common link, were on opposite sides of virtually every field of discussion, I gleefully threw the proverbial hand grenade into the conversation.

Me[8]: “So [enviro-hippie-veggie type], did you know that [card carrying NRA gun toter] is in the NRA and owns five handguns and a pump action shotgun?”

And that’s all it took, folks. I had an hour of truly delightful argument unfold before my very eyes, none of which ever tarnished me in any way. See, I do take special delight in that, but not just because of the obvious level of consternation and discomfort that it brought to both parties. I also appreciate the arguments made on both sides of the debate. You learn much more about people when you see them wax poetic about things that matter the most to them.

But back to the world’s best arguer. I remember having arguments with him spanning from which of Grisham’s books were the best to the point at which Tom Clancy ceased to be a good writer and instead became a shabby scribe for the GOP.[9] We’ve argued about which Chinese restaurant delivered the best General Tao’s chicken, which dodgy late night Chinese restaurant had the best Mongolian Beef, and who is hotter Jennifer or Courtney. And I think when it comes down to it, in life, if you can’t have an argument about something, if there’s no controversy, then you’re just not living it to the fullest.

At any rate, I think that’s one thing the UK seriously excels in – a good argument. It's not just that old Monty Python skit where the guy pays to have an argument and instead of arguing, just gets repeated denials.

“I paid to have an argument!”

“No you didn’t!”

“Yes I did!”

Ad nauseam. I, for one, am tired of the culture of agreement. Let’s stir some shit up. And this is something the Brits are good at. Prime Minister's Questions have been particularly lively of late (election season), but not only that, you can have a lively argument with a Brit on pretty much any subject at any time (as long as it's over a pint or 4). Speaking of which...

[1] Like some of us are wont to do.
[2] As in a few months ago.
[3] Or maybe Bush is just argumentative.
[4] Republicans like to see Bush as a debater, but he’s not. In fact, with my definition, he may be neither because he’s usually not the type to use “reason” in a “debate”. Instead it’s bluster and bravado.
[5] Also known as “Darth Vaderism”.
[6] Emory, not “band camp”.
[7] Who went on to defend oil and gas companies. “Fate is not without a sense of irony,” said Morpheus.
[8] Adored in military fatigues, a fake beard, cigar, and frequently shouting, “Viva la revolution!”
[9] Executive Orders was my argument and I stick with it today. He felt that Clancy had one decent book after that.