PREFACE

The judge, in awful ermine, on the bench; the jury, glowering, in its box; the prisoner, the book, in the dock: enter in humility, the attorney for the defense, the preface.

“What excuse for existence has the prisoner?” thunders the judge in tones that make the culprit’s leaves shake.

In cringing deference, the attorney for the defense falters, “None, your lordship, none, but....”

Such is the scene that many prefaces suggest. This preface, however, is different—and quite shameless. It says, merely, that the title “Debating for Boys” carries its own statement of its reason for being. Boys like to debate; debating will do them good. This volume is a simple, unpretentious manual designed to help boys to debate efficiently—to get from the most manly of all sports, and a royal sport it is, all of the pleasure and profit it has to offer. The book is designed, first of all, as an aid to the boy himself—in home, club, school, church—and, also, as an aid to the father, club director, teacher, clergyman, all, in fact, who are his friends and advisers.

I wish to thank The Youth’s Companion for its courteous permission to reprint one chapter which originally appeared upon its Boys’ Page; Boys’ Life, the Boy Scouts’ magazine, for kind consent to the republication of much matter which first saw the light of print in its columns; Mr. Henry Smith Chapman for valuable material upon parliamentary law; and Mr. Warren Dunham Foster for his general editorial direction of the book.

Acknowledgment is due Mr. Rollo L. Lyman of the University of Chicago, and Mr. George P. Baker of Harvard, whose methods of teaching argumentation have become standard.

W. H. F.

Boston, Massachusetts.

DEBATING FOR BOYS

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CHAPTER I WHY BOYS SHOULD DEBATE

For two reasons I am going to discuss with you the theories of debating.

In the first place, the debate of the boys’ club, of the school society, or of the city lyceum, is the same in form and method as the debates in legislature or Congress. Any lad who is trained to debate, who knows his subject, who is logical and direct, who is frightened neither at his own voice nor of his opponent’s ability, will later in life be able to meet an opponent in the larger halls of the capital. He will find it no different in Washington than it was in the village school—his audience will be larger and his judges different but the rules governing his thought and its expression will be the same.

In the second place, when he is effectively trained in debate, he is also completely equipped for the more informal thought and discussion which is his daily habit. When from his study and practice of debating, he knows something of logic, something[4] of the ordinary rules of evidence, something of the organization of an argument, he will be impatient and intolerant of weak and jointless talk, even in informal discussion. Every one has overheard in crowds talk which has passed for argument but has been as formless as a jelly-fish—merely talk. It began nowhere and ended nowhere. So I propose to discuss debating because it will prepare you for the highest responsibilities which may be placed upon you, while at the same time it will equip you for the everyday duties of active boyhood and later manhood.

Purpose of Debating.—Remember then that debate is simply the spoken argument presented formally; what is its purpose?

The answer is, not to beat the other side, but to get at the facts.

Now in some games, although of course it is of prime importance that the contest be manly and the sport clean, there is a distinct value in the strife itself and victory is sought for its own sake; the element of right or wrong does not enter into the question at all. There is no right or wrong to it. But in debate the purpose is not to win at any cost; not to confuse the opponent, nor to trick him, but to win by absolute strength of argument—to present such argument as will show the facts. In debates the truth is wanted—not necessarily the decision, the victory. For the purpose and object of[5] debate is to determine upon some course of action, to arrive at some decision; it is a poor sort of victory which secures a decision at the expense of facts.

For example, suppose that you are a Boy Scout and that your patrol has decided upon a hike to Mt. Rainier. The first question to discuss and settle will be the best route to take. Jack Prentice may know the way absolutely, but may not be nearly so fluent a talker as Frank Gordon, who with very little knowledge of the proposed hike, could easily silence poor Jack in the discussion.

What will be the effect of Frank’s victory, if he gains it? If Jack is made to look ridiculous in discussion, if he loses his presence of mind and so stammers over his statements that his fellow Scouts lose patience and take Frank’s more fluent speech for fact and adopt his proposed route, what will it all avail if they take the wrong road? Will it not be a hollow victory in the end? And will his victory add to Frank’s reputation, although his fellows may be very willing to admit his cleverness? Will not that very cleverness make them all the more unwilling to trust his future arguments, when they remember this failure?

On the other hand what about Jack? Is our only feeling toward him one of sympathy? No, he should have trained his powers, he should have early “found himself” so that he would not fall an easy victim to mere cleverness. In other words,[6] Frank is responsible for the use he made of his powers, and Jack is responsible for the use he did not make of his. If the patrol got caught off the road on the hike, I imagine they would blame both Frank and Jack about equally.

Debate Must Lead to Action.—Now you may not at first see the parallel between a debate on the best route for a proposed hike and a general debate on conservation, for example. Both, however, are really governed by the same rules and their purpose and object is the same. In the plans for your hike, you proposed to do something, to go somewhere; if the question of conservation is up for discussion it is with some definite end in view, not simply as an excuse for general talk about it. The discussion which does not lead to a definite plan of action is not truly argument. If after your audience, whether it is your patrol, your debating club, or later your legislature, has listened to you, it says “What a fine speech!” you have failed. The audience should be convinced to the point of action. Demosthenes said to his rival, “When the Athenians listen to you they say ‘What a fine speech!’ When they hear me they say, ‘Let’s go fight against Philip.’” So any argument, and debate, must convince the hearers that the facts are as claimed, that

the deductions based upon these facts are sound and that the course advised is correct. Finally and supremely, it must lead somewhere; it must have a[7] definite plan to propose and must lead the hearers to follow that plan.

Benefits to the Individual.—If, then, the purpose of debate is to get at the facts and to determine the proper action to be taken with reference to those facts, what are the benefits of debate to the debater himself? They are many and varied.

Training in Self-Control.—In the first place, there is the training in self-control which comes to the debater. Sometimes one can face a physical emergency with fortitude when he shrinks from a situation which calls for no physical pluck at all. Only a few years ago a famous Harvard football player who had been the mainstay of his team in many a scrimmage actually fainted away when he first attempted to take part in a debate. When he was revived he was so disgusted with himself that he insisted on trying again, and he did, after a fashion, go through his part in the debate. Mortified at his failure, he persisted in as strenuous a course in his debating class as ever had been imposed upon him by his football coach. He won, and became one of Harvard’s star debaters. You see, the physical self-control he had acquired on the gridiron was not available to him in debate; but it is the skill in debate which is now helping him in after life—not necessarily his football prowess.

Training to Meet Emergencies.—You will learn how to meet emergencies if you become skillful in[8] debate. Most of us can frame a fair argument if we can sit quietly down and think it out with no one to bother us. But to be able to control and command your resources so that they are ready for quick action—that is a different ability—an ability that work in debating will give you. If Jack has studied out his question he may be able to give a very strong argument for it. But suppose Frank is there to ask Jack questions or to suggest measures contrary to those he is advocating, Jack is likely to lose in his argument unless he has so prepared himself that Frank’s counter arguments have already been considered and provided for. You will see that it is not enough to have arguments—you must have them ready for use. It is a good deal like a camping equipment; it will not aid you in the woods if it is packed away at home. This preparedness, as far as argument is concerned, debating will teach you.

Knowing—Not Doing.—You know education is a process of preparing a man to get the most out of himself and the most out of life. In many cases, however, a boy knows a great deal but can do but very little. I have known boys who could tell you all about the various methods of signaling since Gideon trained his troop of warriors; yet, if you should ask these boys, they couldn’t actually send the simplest message. They know, but they can not do. Now the training in meeting emergencies[9] which debating gives a boy, lays the emphasis on quick decision, but above all on quick decision that means action.

This training in self-control which practice in debating gives is invaluable in after life. When the boy, for instance, is after a job, if he has self-control he will be able to face his possible employer with courage and to put up the front he is entitled to show. The timid boy, however, will probably be unable to present his claims in a fashion that shows their merit. Many other such cases will occur to any of you.

Debating Forms Habits of Correct Speech.—Next to its value in training for self-control, practice in debating is valuable in the formation of correct habits of speech. I do not mean the “fine writing” we recognize so easily, which is sometimes beautiful but more often only funny. I mean that direct English which aims to say certain things in the simplest fashion and in the fewest words. Never to use a long word when a short one will express the exact meaning, never to use a foreign word or a word of foreign derivation when a plain Saxon word will do—a few such rules as these will soon form a clear clean style, and no drill equals the debate for the recognition of this style or its opposite, huge bombastic statement. Haven’t you noticed how much worse a poor sentence sounds than it looks? It is like comparing[10] cannon balls with toy balloons—they may look about the same size and may have the same general appearance but to use them—well, I would rather juggle with toy balloons than with cannon balls but the cannon balls would surely be the more reliable

in an argument; which do you think would carry the most weight?

You surely recognize a clear exact style when you hear it, and you surely recognize slovenly careless speech when you hear it. Now you can’t in debate have a clean clear style if you haven’t a clean cut incisive argument—if you haven’t thought your subject through. And on the contrary, your very work thinking your argument out will strengthen your style and simplify your speech. Matters so ordinary as grammar and pronunciation will unconsciously correct themselves when you hear your own voice either gracing or disgracing your thought. Your vocabulary will be enlarged, your diction clarified, and, on the physical side, your articulation will be clearer and more distinct; you will learn to stand squarely on both feet and not wander aimlessly about or sway as if blown upon by contending breezes. You see, if you think a moment, that every one of these things, so important to you whether as boy or man, is drilled into you by practice in debate.

Debating Means Constructive Thinking.—In the next place, not only is practice in debate invaluable[11] in acquiring self-control and correct habits of speech, but also it teaches you to organize your own powers; it drills you in constructive thinking. In much of your school work, you learn and recite the words of others—either of teachers or of textbook writers. But if a subject for debate is proposed, you must think it out yourself. For example, if some such question is proposed for your debate as: “Is the conservation of the timber supply of the United States wise?” you at once must by your own independent thinking prepare your argument. Your teacher or other friends will aid you but you must work it out yourself. You will first ask yourself what you mean and what is meant generally by “conservation”; you will then ask where and how much the same policy has been tried in other countries, why it should be tried here and what results may be reasonably expected to follow the policy here. You catalogue the reasons for and against

the proposed policy and weigh the moral questions involved, if any. You limit the question within its proper bounds—in short you build up the structure of your argument much as you would build a signal tower. You see that your foundations are properly laid and that every upright and brace is properly placed and jointed.

Debaters Can Detect False Reasoning.—Then when you have found yourself, when you have acquired mastery of yourself, of your manner and of[12] your argument, practice in debating has an additional value still greater. You will learn to recognize sound reasoning wherever you hear it and will detect the false with equal ease. Without conscious effort on your part, you will apply to the casual argument as you meet it, to the public address, to the written article, to the newspaper editorial, those standards by which you have built up your own argument. It will be difficult for you to overlook inconsistency and false reasoning, for your mind will have become accustomed to exact and clear thinking—your habits of mind will have become standardized, as the factory expert would say.

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CHAPTER II WHAT DEBATE REALLY IS

I have failed in my argument so far unless I have accomplished two things. First, and most important, I must have convinced you that I am right as far as I have gone. Second, to have my argument really worth while, I must have done more—I must have made you want to debate. For an argument is only half an argument unless it brings you to the point of doing. In this particular it differs from many other kinds of speaking—contention for example.

In contention, the contender has very little hope as a rule of changing his adversary’s mind. He is not arguing; he is simply sticking up for his point. How much of what passes for argument belongs to this class of effort! You hear it in the street every day, and on the baseball diamond—did you ever hear the discussion over a disputed decision by the umpire? Did you ever hear any argument there? Did Captain Jack, or Captain Frank, or Captain Chance, or Captain McGraw, ever really think he could convince any jury, either of players, umpires or spectators, that he was really right?

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Argument Differs Also From Persuasion.—There are other forms of mental effort expressed in spoken word, perfectly legitimate in themselves, which are not arguments, although generally classed as such. There is a difference between argument and persuasion.

Can you remember when you were trying to get your friend Bob or perhaps your whole crowd to follow your suggestion? How you coaxed and urged and teased. Of course that was many years ago but your argument (!) ran something like this, didn’t it?

“Oh, I say, Bob, come on down to the creek.”

“Let’s go in swimming!”

“Oh, yes!”

“Let’s!”

“Say, it’s just fun!”

“Oh, never mind getting in that kindling, you can do it after we get back—sure you can! You’ll have plenty of time, and besides your mother won’t care very much.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Don’t be a fraid cat!”

“You are a regular sissy! You dassn’t go—you have to stay close home! I tell you, I just do as I please—my ma lets me do just as I want to. She knows I would, anyway.”

“Oh, come on, Bob, be a good fellow!”

And so it would run on—not a particle of argument,[15] nothing but appeal to the emotions, and those not of the loftiest kind.

But is that scene too boyish for you to remember? How about that time only a little while ago when you were not urging Bob to go down to the “old swimming hole,” but to a place not quite so harmless as that, the place where the creek backed up into a pond, muddy and actually shallow it must be confessed, but none the less better than any marble bath of emperor or king. Bob didn’t want to play pool with you in that pool-room your father said was no place for a boy, but you teased him into going. Your sneers at his desire to keep himself clean and sweet and “mind his mother” maybe were not quite so obvious as those earlier boyish effusions but they were none the less appeals to the weaker instincts.

And can you remember that hot day in July away back, when you were only a youngster you know? How you wanted the worst way to go fishing but Bob wanted to lie on the ground under the tree and read Campmates? How it just seemed to you as though you simply must go fishing, and yet how equally determined you were that you would not go alone but that Bob must go too, book or no book? You can remember how you teased and coaxed and urged, and finally how you bribed him by offering to give him that trade on the book he had wanted so long. You carried your point, but was it argument?

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Can’t you remember, too, how you capped your final urgings of Bob only a few days ago by offering to introduce him to your cousin Nellie who had come from Fairfield to visit you? You knew Bob admired her greatly and you imagined that if you couldn’t get Bob to agree to your plan by your urging and coaxing, you could easily win him over, if you could promise him the coveted introduction.

No, lad, these scenes are not too boyish. They frame a point for you. The truth is that, so far as the fact of conviction or persuasion in argument is concerned, the bribe of the book and of the introduction to Nellie is on the same plane in the argument as the logic of the offer of money to the legislator to influence his mind in the debate wherein he engages.

Argument, therefore, is addressed in the first instance to reason alone; it may or may not be combined with persuasion but the two are absolutely different. The perfect argument will be so absolutely convincing, its logic will be so unanswerable that its hearers will be compelled by its very force to follow its conclusions since they can not escape them.