Читать книгу Making Arguments: Reason in Context - Edmond H. Weiss - Страница 32

The classification and description of these philosophies does not tell the whole story when it comes to judging arguments. First, there are many other ways to describe judging paradigms, as well as an indefinitely large number of additional judging philosophies. Second, and more important, the judging philosophies are greatly influenced and nuanced by differences among individuals acting in their capacities as judges. We cannot pretend that the variability among people does not also factor into how individuals judge arguments. In fact, we acknowledge that those differences among individuals can account for as much (or possibly more) of what goes into judging an argument than do the judging philosophies.

Most important, in any given context the judge may move beyond a single model for judging arguments and offer himself or herself as an amalgamation, a cluster of paradigms for assessing argumentative outcome. Further, multiple judges can share roles and responsibilities, shifting and adjusting paradigms as the situation merits.

Since the latter half of the twentieth century--in response to the work of Stephen Toulmin, Chaim Perelman, and Charles Willard--argumentation scholars have been much more receptive to the idea that well-made arguments are constructed with the judge in mind. And this new tolerance has carried over to the teaching of argumentative practice as well. For example, at many high school and college debate tournaments, coaches (who will serve as judges for other teams than their own) submit elaborate descriptions of their own judging philosophies.

Debaters, who have access to these descriptions, rely upon reading them as a way to reshape and reframe their argumentative strategy for this or that debate round. The debaters do not throw away their original arguments, but they do adapt, restructure, and change the emphasis in ways they believe will please and influence the respective judging philosophies. This is much more than mere audience adaption. It is a subtle, even nuanced response to the shifting modalities of judgment. Making arguments in this sense means applying reason not just to the arguments themselves, but, more important, to the context of judgment.

To illustrate, consider this actual judging philosophy written by a teacher of academic debate:

The process by which I arrive at a decision is unbiased, based upon reasonableness, and my perception of what is fair. I as a judge am obligated to explain my decision clearly, and in a way that will benefit all the advocates involved. For me, argument is communicative activity offering all the participants the opportunity to learn.

As a judge, I will try to hold all participants to the criteria that have been developed for how argument should take place in competitions. My decision in this debate will be my own, and will neither be influenced by my relationship with any of the advocates nor by my consultations with others (including other possible judges of the debate).

In striving to be fair and unbiased, I will evaluate a round of debate based upon the rules specific to the event. I will make sure that argumentative rules are followed, and will enforce violation of rules with penalties that can include sanctions as severe as forfeiting the debate; employ critical judgment, making sure not to disadvantage any team or participant based upon what I know of other teams and participants.

In evaluating the debate, I will present a written ballot, justifying the reasons for my decision. In this written ballot, I will take the opportunity both to explain the reasoning behind my decision and to offer informative, thoughtful critiques that provide students with a foundation for improvement.

Consequently, I will be diligent and thorough in completing my ballot. It is not enough for me merely to choose a winner. Following a debate, I will take time to elaborate (even orally, if there is time) upon what I viewed as the central issues: I will point out how and why I felt one team prevailed, and identify the shortcomings of both teams, especially the one that lost.

In judging a debate, I will explain to all participants why they were ranked as they were, highlighting points of missed emphasis, or ways in which a given debater failed to produce a necessary argument in a given situation. While my criticism may seem harsh (especially to the side that did not prevail), it will be constructive and be composed with a mind toward the continual improvement of the debaters.

In the end, I appreciate and consider the enormous intellectual commitment of all the debaters I judge, each of whom must express him- or herself in front of an audience while engaged in a sophisticated and difficult process.

My written ballot should be a valuable resource for those I judge, as well as their coaches and team-mates; when students do not know why they have won or lost, they have little opportunity to learn from the experience. The insights gleaned from my ballot can thus give debaters a chance to address the debate skills that need to be mastered. I pledge to write a ballot that is clear and specific, so that debaters will have a precise understanding of my decision-making.

Time permitting, and if I am allowed, I will offer an oral critique of the debate, without revealing my written decision.

This judging philosophy is easily recognizable as an “educator.” Debaters who “pull” this judge at a tournament are advised to approach their argumentative responsibilities as would students in a course where the professor lays down very specific criteria for success in an assignment. Debaters who are conversant with the rules and procedures of academic debate, and who apply the theories and principles of argumentation as they have been taught them, are prepared for this judge.

To a lesser extent, this judge is also exhibiting the assumptions of a “jurist.” He or she is committed to the published guidelines. In the same way that a parliamentarian enforces rules of procedure, this judge is committed to the essential fairness in the process of arguing. The act of arguing must not per se disadvantage one of the participants. All have the right to have their arguments aired.

What is striking about this judging philosophy is how little it reveals about how the judge would actually make the decision. In contrast, consider this much more revealing statement of philosophy:

People have called me a negative judge. By this, I think they mean that I feel, in any given round of debate, that the affirmative has a lot to accomplish. I believe that human beings get a pretty fair shake from the status quo, and I am willing to stay with the status quo absent a pretty compelling set of reasons to move away from it. This doesn’t mean an affirmative can’t sway me; it just means that they have their work cut out for them.

Specifically, I like to see the affirmative achieve a real threshold for change. I like their evidence to compel me to act, and I want them to be able to put down serious objectives offered by the negative. I don’t want the debate to end with the affirmative thinking they have won my ballot without having done some very specific things:

1.Their evidence, and their links to very specific outcomes and difficulties, must be superior.

2.They have to convince me I can’t get to where they want to go without their proposal.

3.I have to see their proposal as desirable, especially in comparison to doing nothing (or just letting things evolve)

4.I have to know that that their proposal isn’t going to foul things up, or be difficult to pull off.

I can’t say if, empirically, I actually have voted more for the negative, or the affirmative, but I will say that in my mind the hurdles the affirmative must achieve are significant.

This judging philosophy, recognizable as that of the policy maker, clearly casts the judge’s role as one who will deeply examine the causes and justifications for change. This judge is invoking the standards of a deliberative assembly. Moreover, this philosophy accepts the possibility of change, but with the attendant cautiousness required to approach significant alterations to the present system.

To accentuate how modalities of judgment affect judging philosophies, let’s consider yet another variant of the policy-maker’s philosophy, expressed below:

I have a bias in favor of change, and in the direction of reform. I don’t need to find illness to promote health. I don’t need a compelling crisis to motivate me toward making the world better. I might take a job I considered a better one, even if I was happy in my current position. For me the impetus toward change is inherently a positive dimension of human societies. The ridiculously high bar that some judges set for advocates—of a complete and devastating indictment of our present society—is inappropriate for today’s policy makers. The status quo is neither perfectly capable nor perfectly evil. Someone must perform innovation, and affirmative debaters ask why not, instead of why.

It’s fascinating to think of these last two judges sitting, watching, and evaluating the same debate. The differing lenses through which they see the same argument reveal how judging philosophies affect how debaters should make their arguments. For the first policy-making judge, the bar for argumentative for success is set very high, nearly at the prosecutorial stance of “beyond a reasonable doubt.” The second policy-maker, though, has a bias toward change; the presumption in the case has moved. It is the status quo, or the defense, that has the real argumentative work to do in such a situation. Presumption, in this latter case, is not grant nearly the protection it does with the more traditional policy-maker judge.

Often it is difficult to anticipate the judge’s paradigm; some judges use different models for the public evaluations from those they use in their private and personal lives. A person who eagerly embraces change and novelty in private may, as a debate judge, place a heavy, skeptical demand on the Affirmative case. Because both of these stances interact, “reading” a judge is more complex than the simple process described in basic writing and speech texts.

Arguing, then, often entails adapting, simultaneously and on the fly, to the duality of the judge: independent public and private models of evaluation. The judge of an argument cannot be characterized as clear, unambiguous metric against which your arguments will be evaluated. Rather, the judge is an amalgam of public and private responses to the advocate’s presentation. And not only must advocates analyze the nature of the judges before the fact, they must also continue to adjust and modify in “real time,” while the judge is judging. In other words, communicating one’s argument to the judge, despite all the planning and preparation, is dynamic, interactive and immediate—more like jazz improvisation and less like playing from a published musical score.

It is clear why there is such a wide variation of responses to our arguments. Just because one cannot predict the outcome of a particular case, and just because, no matter how we frame the argument, the outcome is uncertain, however, this does mean that the behavior of judges is irrational and random. Nor does it mean that arguing is a mad game in which one is forever trying to meeting the capricious expectations of judges. On the contrary, arguing well is a virtuous undertaking, and involves considerable, complex skills of interpretation—skills that enhance our effectiveness in scores of settings and contexts.