Some images that recur in Nietzsche's writings seem to me to fit Heidegger
beautifully. I see him as a magician or wizard, "a philosophical
Cagliostro and pied piper, in short, a seducer." He was a great
performer who took in large numbers of highly intelligent men and women
and perhaps even himself. (Walter Kaufmann, Professor of Philosophy,
Princeton, Discovering the Mind, Volume 2, Nietzsche. Heidegger,
and Buber, 1980, p.234.)
"Language
is the house of Being," says Heidegger; but in truth his language
is the house in which he hides, and his gothic terminology is like a
row of towers that frightens us away while it gives him a feeling of
security. His philosophy is like a castle that, though certainly not
beautiful, stands out from a generally dull landscape and catches the
eye. We should not dream of settling down beneath it to spend our lives,
like Kafka's K., in futile efforts to penetrate the mysteries that,
more often than not, are expressions of confusion rather than profundity.
(Kaufmann, From Shakespeare to Existentialism, 1959, p302.)
From the date of its first appearance at the University of Northern Iowa
debate tournament in September of 1991, the critique (or "Kritik" in its Germanized form) has created consternation and confusion. It has
attacked some of the most fundamental presuppositions of policy debate;
indeed, it has even raised the question of whether it is policy debate
that we are primarily engaged in. The critique has undergone a process
of rapid popularization in both college and high school debate; and it
has unquestionably been the most striking and controversial theoretical
innovation of the past five years. Critique debates have improved over
time. Critique proponents have become clearer in articulating their positions,
and teams arguing against critiques have begun to develop more coherent
and effective strategies of defense. Still critique debates remain bemusing.
Critiques tend to function outside most of the normal conceptual categories
through which debate arguments are generated and evaluated. And the critique
has its intellectual origins in a German philosophical tradition which
is alien to most American debaters and coaches. It is a philosophical
tradition originating in Hegel and climaxing perhaps in Heidegger which
is infamous for its complexity and obscurity. As applied to debate, one
is still left wondering whether the critique offers authentic new insights
or whether it is simply an obfuscation device designed to pay competitive
premiums to critiquers.
The language of the critique remains, sometimes literally, foreign. Debating
against critiques can prove to be a mystifying experience, as argumentative
ground shifts rapidly under one's feet. My purpose in this article is
neither to praise the critique nor to bury it, but rather, in part at
least, to demystify it. What teams debating against critiques need most
is a framework through which critiques can be grasped and attacked. This
is not an easy task. Critiques vary widely. Some critiques are epistemological;
others are moral, political, or even metaphysical. They can attack opponents'
premises, opponents' method of reasoning, even opponents' language choices.
There is no single block of "critiques are bad" arguments which
will apply equally well (or even apply at all) in all situations. I think,
however, that there are a number of general approaches to debating critiques
which will prove widely applicable. In what follows, I suggest a few.
Critiques almost invariably operate outside the normal policy framework
of debate. It is clear why this is the case: if critiques were powerful
as policy arguments (or at least as powerful), then they would
probably have been formulated as such. What the critique seems to challenge
most fundamentally is that what we are essentially engaged in is a policy
debate. That is what, even more than the specific content of the critique,
makes critiques seem like such alien beings-they attack what may be our
most fundamental assumption, an assumption pertaining to what we are debating
about.
Given that this is the case, the first approach to debating critiques
seems clear: one should attempt to reestablish the policy framework for
the debate. Two arguments can be made from the outset. First, the subject
matter for the debate, the debate topic, is a question of public policy.
Second, this specific topics operating within a larger framework of policy
debate. Both NDT and high school two-person debate have chosen to debate
policy propositions for as long as I, at least, can remember. A major
distinguishing feature of NDT debate vs. CEDA debate has been that NDT
debates policy questions. And "policy debate" is the standard
synonym for two-person debate in high school. What this implies is that
not only is the specific subject at hand a question of policy, the entire
framework within which our forms of debating occur has been established
by agreement to be a public policy forum.
A policy framework sets some limits on what arguments are relevant and
what impacts arguments possess. For example, a negative might argue a
linguistic critique, suggesting that the phrase "Islamic fundamentalism"
is tainted by ethnic bias, or that the concept of "development" is ethnocentrically pro-Western. One might, within a policy framework,
conclude that such arguments are true and still decide that the affirmative
plan is a good idea in comparison to the status quo or any counterplan
the negative may have advanced. Furthermore, certain arguments which might
logically be absolute may still be inappropriate in a policy forum. The
critique of causality derives from the writings of David Hume, an eighteenth
century British philosopher. In the section of A Treatise on Human
Nature which deals with epistemology (the theory of what we can know),
Hume argued that we can never rationally prove the existence of causation.
We can only observe the sequence of events; we can never know with logical
certainty that event X causes event Y. As a matter of pure logic, Hume
seems to be correct. But he certainly never intended his "critique" of causality to become a precept of practical or political reasoning.
Indeed, when Hume discusses ethics, later on in his Treatise, he offers
a thoroughly deterministic psychology, that is, he assumes principles
of causation. The point of this example is to suggest that an epistemological
quandary doesn't necessarily constitute a political argument.
The major argument made by defenders of the critique against the notion
that we are mainly engaged in a policy debate takes the form of a critique
of fiat. "Fiat," it is said, is a utopian concept. Nothing is
really done at the end of the round; no new policy is really put into
place. The language used in the round, and the attitude formation associated
with that language use, is far more "real" and of far more consequence
in the actual lives of the participants. Further, since nothing is really
done, there's no real reason why various abstract epistemological or metaphysical
theories shouldn't be considered in the debate. In addition, we do sometimes
evaluate and vote on non-policy issues even within our current debate
conventions, topicality arguments and ethics challenges to evidence being
the two most prominent examples.
Is fiat utopian? The word "fiat" has probably caused more problems
for debate theory than any other two syllables, and the way in which the
concept of fiat has been formulated is often problematic. Traditionally,
fiat was said to be the "power" to put a plan (or counterplan)
into effect. Based on this "magic wand" notion of fiat, it is
relatively easy to see why some might call it utopian. But there are other
ways of thinking about fiat. Rather than being a power, one might say
that fiat is an act of imagination; we simply imagine that the plan is
in place in order to decide if it would be a good idea. Or, one could
say that fiat is just shorthand for the idea of normative endorsement.
"Fiat" is then equivalent to saying that we have made the value
judgment that the plan should be done. Conceived as such, this process
is hardly utopian; we make such ethical and political judgments all the
time. Is the process of making such judgments unreal or unimportant? Hardly.
It is through the process of making these judgments that our moral and
political world views are developed. The judgments we come to at the end
of debate rounds may only be provisional, based on the evidence and arguments
in that round, but overtime the sum of our provisional judgments is what
ultimately constitutes our moral and political belief system.
Policy debates are important. As citizens in a democracy, we have individually
small but collectively large inputs into the policies our government chooses.
As future decision makers or opinion leaders, the judgments about policy
which debaters come to may be especially important. And even if our own
input into the policy process is small, we live (as Bob Dylan says) "in
a political world," and to keep our bearings in that world, we need
to make some informed judgments about what we believe.
Topicality functions as a necessary adjunct to policy debate, not as an
alternative to it. A topicality argument essentially claims that the affirmative
is not arguing for a relevant policy. It is a side constraint on what
can be discussed in order to maintain a clear policy focus. Evidence challenges
are also meant to sustain the integrity of the policy discussion process.
Given our reliance (whether good or bad) on authority, it is necessary
that external authorities be cited accurately. Otherwise, the whole policy
discussion process breaks down.
There may well be other ethical violations which would so undercut the
debate process that judges should vote against such behaviors. Debate
can only proceed effectively if we respect the integrity of those who
we are debating. So, for example, bigoted behavior directed towards an
opponent seems to me like a good reason to vote against a team. But serious
ethical violations such as this are very rare in debate, and accusations
of bigotry should not be casually made. Ethical issues in debate shouldn't
be argumentative pawns. It seems absurd to suspend a substantive discussion
simply because of a lapse in the use of gender neutral language, for example.
Language is a form of behavior, and if language is so abused that the
integrity of the debate process has been undermined, then it probably
should be a voting issue. But few uses of language seem to call for such
a severe response. If the phrase "Islamic fundamentalism" distorts
policy discussion be evoking an erroneous racial stereotype, then the
credibility of evidence and arguments employing that language may be reduced,
but that is not likely in itself to be a reason for concluding that an
affirmative plan is a bad idea. Similarly, if "development" is a totally bankrupt concept, then there should be disadvantages to increased
development efforts. If such disadvantages don't outweigh the affirmative
advantage, then the critique of development seems like semantic nitpicking.
If we are engaged in a policy debate, then aspects of how one argues,
such as one's rhetoric, are relatively incidental. The point is to evaluate
the policies proposed on their merits. Poor rhetoric by a plan's proponents
is not a reason to reject an otherwise sound idea.
Once one rejects the policy focus, then everything seems open to debate.
We could be setting ourselves up for the "critique of attire."
If clothes make the man (or the woman), and if immediate relevance to
the participants in the round is the criterion of argument importance,
then arguments about who is better dressed would seems to become relevant.
Or what about the "critique of personal hygiene"? Personal hygiene
is certainly more important to our social existence than are particular
judgments about an affirmative plan. (And if critiques of verbal communication
are legitimate, why not critiques of non-verbal?) So, by the logic of
the critique, we could end up debating who is better groomed, the relative
value of different ways of parting one's hair, or the esthetics of deodorant.
To certain proponents of the critique, who have been known to vote on
the "tie paradigm," such an outcome might be acceptable. Personally,
I would rather judge debates about whether teams' arguments stink than
whether their bodies do.
Having argued that the context of public policy discourses is the appropriate
framework for our type of debate, the second major step to take in attacking
a critique is to argue why the critique isn't a reason to reject the plan.
In doing so, two key ideas are the notions of comparative analysis and
absoluteness.
All policy debate, it has been cogently argues, requires comparison. Every
human institution has its flaws; its worth can therefor only be determined
in relation to some alternative institutional arrangement. As Churchill
said, democracy is the worst form of government, except for every other
form. If policies are to be evaluated in comparative terms, then the plan
must be evaluated either versus a counterplan ort he status quo (or both).
If the negative fails to advance a counterplan, then the only available
comparison is with the present system. The main implication of this is
that if a critique is to function as a disadvantage, it has to be unique.
Consider the example of a deep ecological critique. This critique might
argue that long term environmental survival requires a new environmental
ethic. But the fact that a new ethic would be good, or even vital, is
not a reason to reject a specific affirmative plan which operates outside
that ethic unless we have at least some reason to believe that the new
ethic is coming and that the plan impedes its arrival.
But, it might be argued, this critique is not intended to function as
a disadvantage; rather it is a moral and metaphysical argument directed
at the core assumptions underlying the affirmative advantage. This claim
is not to be lightly dismissed, but I believe that the critique is likely
to fail even at this level. It is here that the notion of absoluteness
comes into play. To win this critique the negative would have to win that
there is no value associated with the affirmative plan. Thus, the negative
might win that it would be best to try to preserve the biosphere as a
whole and that humans don't have a privileged place in the ecosystem.
But it would be hard, even from a deep ecological perspective, to win
that humans have no value. They are, after all, biological beings and
part of nature. Even if they are not more important than other species,
they are, by the same logic, not less important. Thus, unless preserving
human lives harms other life forms (which would be a defensible disadvantage),
then even from a deep ecologist's standpoint, human lives should be preserved.
The critique of rationality provides another good example of why critiques
are likely not to be absolute. "Reason" may be a flawed instrument;
there may be occasions when we should give greater weight to our emotions
or intuitions. But rationality clearly has a vital place in human life.
If you had been falsely accused of murder, you would want the jury to
listen to the reasons you could give for your innocence, not just vote
on whether they like you or not. The fact that you were in Lexington at
the time that this murder was being committed in Austin is a sound logical
reason for why you couldn't have committed it. My point is that no critique
of rationality can discredit all forms of rational thought. Furthermore,
it cannot do so with complete certainty. It should be next to impossible
for the negative to win that rational reasons have no probative value.
It's better to decide on the basis of a flawed rationality than it is
to flip a coin.
The third main approach to attacking the critique is to argue it in its
own terms. While I would not recommend this as a sole strategy, I believe
that it has considerable merit in combination with other arguments. Most
critiques simply are not that strong. There may well be a good reason
why the assumption that the critique attacks is rarely questioned. At
minimum, it is likely to be an assumption which most people (including
most judges) happen to share. Thus, the degree of persuasion required
to sustain that assumption may be minimal.
Consider the rationality example. The necessity of reason in a public
policy debate seems obvious. We try to give reasons for our conclusions
because reasons can be evaluated and compared. If one side claims that
its intuition is that a policy is wrong and the other says that its intuition
is that the policy is right, we have no grounds for debate. We can emote
or intuit at each other all day without getting anywhere. Reasoned argument
offers our only real hope of peacefully settling intuitive disagreements.
It can never he established logically that logic is correct; to do so
would be circular. But the elementary rules of logic are simply self-evident.
If I was in Lexington, Kentucky at the time which someone was stabbed
to death in Austin, Texas, I couldn't have been the one to do the stabbing.
Similarly, given the way in which our minds are constructed, empiricism
seems to be by nature compelling. Logically, we can't know that the sun
will rise tomorrow; the future may not repeat the past. But our past experience
is the best thing that we have to go on; life requires that we act and
judge with some degree of uncertainty.
Or consider the critique of "Islamic fundamentalism." Words
have both denotative and connotative meanings. The phrase "Islamic
fundamentalism" is not, in itself, value laden. It simply refers
to someone who believes in a very literal and conservative version of
the Muslim religion. "Islamic fundamentalism" could be true
or false, good or bad; the phrase itself doesn't prejudge any of these
alternatives. The fact that the phrase may have acquired negative connotations
in some quarters doesn't deny that it also has a non-evaluative denotative
meaning, and there is no reason why one should not use the phrase to express
this denotative meaning.
Some critiques are of course more substantive and may require more research
or longer reflection to answer. But it should not be that difficult to
defeat critiques, like other counter-intuitive arguments, on their own
merits. Theory arguments tend to be unsatisfying, usually degenerating
into fairness whines. It may be easier to win that anarchy is a bad idea
than that the critique of government is illegitimate.
Fourth, one may wish to critique the critique, that is, to attack some
of its underlying assumptions. Should all premises really be questioned?
Won't doing so result in an infinite regression? Does doubting everything
result in a nihilistic inability to believe in anything?
Is the critique appropriate to debate? Don't political debates almost
always take an a priori ethical and political framework for granted? Can
philosophical arguments be effectively discussed given our time limits
and delivery conventions? Is the critique appropriate to high school debate,
or does it assume an inappropriate level of sophistication in students
who have never had even an introductory philosophy course? Does the critique
lead to an excessive emphasis on theory, encouraging the proliferation
of voting issue blips? Does the critique make debate, already a difficult
skill to master, too esoteric and therefore discourage student participation
and institutional support?
Should critical thinking be given so strong a priority over constructive
thinking? Is it intellectually irresponsible to simply critique without
proposing an alternative? Marx's "devastating critique" after
all, led indirectly to the Soviet Gulag, and one of Heidegger's "woodpaths"
led him at least temporarily to Nazism.
Do we necessarily want to destroy the conceptual categories which currently
make debate coherent to its participants? Do critique debates produce
intellectually satisfying experiences? Or do they simply produce a sense
of confusion and intellectual chaos, where judges and debaters are operating
from radically different assumptions, failing to communicate, and therefore
at the end of the round generally feeling cheated?
To make a persuasive argument, each of these questions would require considerable
elaboration. (Although Heidegger, for one, thought that questions were
more important than answers.) But it should be clear from this list that
there are plenty of grounds for attack.
In summary, I believe that there is a four-step process which can be applied
effectively against most critiques. First, try to establish a framework
within which you think the debate should be evaluated, as opposed
to the framework of the critique. Usually this will be the framework of
public policy analysis. Second, argue that within the policy framework,
the specific critique is not compelling. You might argue that the critique
does not function as a disadvantage to the plan because it is non-unique,
that it is not an alternative solution because there is no counterplan,
or that it doesn't negate the affirmative advantage because it is not
absolute. By reestablishing your framework for analysis (step one), you
have made the standard types of debate analysis with which you are familiar
relevant once again. Third, try to refute the critique on its own terms.
You can either defend the premise the critique attacks or argue that even
within the worldview proposed by the critique, your plan is still justified.
Fourth, you can attempt to "critique the critique" by attacking
some of its underlying assumptions.
Of course, you need not resort to all of these approaches every time you
encounter a critique. I believe that steps one and two are almost always
advisable. Approach three, to simply debate the critique on its own merits
has risks (you are at least temporarily shifting to the negative team's
ground), but it can be effective. (After all, most of us do ultimately
believe that causality exists, that rationality is good, that separate
individuals exist, that at least from human standpoint humans are more
important than other animals, that government is necessary, and that ideas
are more important than the rhetoric with which they are expressed.) The
fourth approach, critiquing the critique, may tend to degenerate into
a series of one-liners, but there are certainly plenty of grounds for
cogent argument.
With research and reflection, the critique need not be so threatening.
The basic requirement is that you demystify the critique, avoid being
intimidated by its German philosophic pedigree, and argue it intelligently.