Such a lot of fuss about tonight’s presidential debates. 32 pages of rules. No direct questioning between the candidates. No cuban heels. Will the cameras reveal that GWB has the better head of hair? Will Perot pop out of a Jim Lehrer suit and frantically start waving multi-coloured economic charts?
What sort of debate is that? Where’s the fun? Where’s the heckling? At my college, the Trinity College Literary Institute emphasized debating as a formal skill and recreational activity. (The difference between the two? A keg.)
To win a Lit debate, you had to have a head on your shoulders, the ability to absorb rhetorical blows, a rapport with the audience, and the ability to project your voice - far. Debates were held in formal reception rooms, auditoriums, even in the quadrangle of the college. The most amusing, however, was the Subway Debate.
Two debate teams, two suitably inebriated people on each, would pile into the St. George station of the Toronto subway. Behind them would be a sizable entourage of 20 to 40 people, and they would all stream into one (already occupied) subway car.
The Speaker of the Lit would call the meeting to order and announce the topic to be debated. At the next stop, the debate would begin. Each debater stood up, stated their position, and launched into a raucous and possibly libelous argument of their position. Each was allowed 2 to 3 minutes to make his/her argument - the amount of time it took the subway train to travel to the next stop.
Other debaters, audience members and the fellow subway riders threw in comments and insults as needed, especially if the debated was flailing and failing.
The whole group continue to debate, heckle and mock as they traveled about 4 stops westward. At that point, we would all cross over to the other side of the Bloor St. subway line and continue with rebuttals as we headed back to the college - and more beer and wings.
You never know where you’ll come across a Lit veteran - like this guy.