Sorry for the recent silence, but I’ve had a busy few days. On Tuesday, my non-profit organization, the Boston Debate League (BDL), co-hosted a luncheon with the National Association for Urban Debate Leagues (NAUDL). To be brutally honest, the BDL’s organizational and institutional capacity is severely underdeveloped right now. That is to say, we’ve accomplished a lot in terms of bringing schools into the League, teaching kids to debate, hosting competitions, etc., but not nearly enough has been done to raise money, build relations with important institutions like the Boston Public Schools, or establish a sustainable infrastructure. If I were to leave Boston tomorrow, everything would fall apart. Or as the NAUDL’s executive director put it, “You’ve got good programming, very good programming, but you don’t have an organization.”
The purpose of Tuesday’s luncheon was to build that capacity. The NAUDL’s staff and Board members have a lot of expertise and experience with this sort of thing, which I do not. Their Board draws heavily on former debaters who went on to business or law school at Harvard University, which means that specifically they are well-connected in the Boston region.
I knew the NAUDL’s contribution to the event was going to be substantial, but I was still shocked by just how impressive it was. One of our guests expressed surprise that Harvard Law School was still in session, what with so much of their faculty at our luncheon, including Louis Kaplow, Sonja Starr, and Larry Tribe. For many, he will need no introduction, but for those who don’t know, Larry Tribe is one of the most prominent lawyers in the country, having argued before the Supreme Court in such landmark cases as Bowers v. Hardwick (where he challenged the constitutionality of anti-sodomy statutes) and Bush v. Gore.
I knew Larry was going to be there but had never met him before and had no idea what he looked like. We were expecting more than twenty guests, most of whom I had never met, but the moment Larry walked into the room, I knew it was him. He’s a small man, somewhat short and fit (though another guest commented that he had lost a good deal of weight, so that may be a recent development), with a tremendous presence about him. Sporting a handsome and well-tailored suit, he really seemed to exude confidence and competence. Tom Wolfe coined the phrase “Masters of the Universe” to refer to brokers and other Wall Street types, but the term leapt to my mind immediately upon shaking Larry’s hand.
The esteemed attorney, however, also came across as extraordinarily kind, gracious, and humble. I can only imagine what kind of hourly rate this man pulls down as a consultant, and here he is attending a luncheon for our little organization for the sole purpose of learning how he might able to help us more in the future. It’s really unbelievable.
This also demonstrates the potent gravitational pull of the debate world. It’s been decades since Mr. Tribe and some of our other guests participated in this activity, but they still remember it fondly and attribute much of their current success to their participation. A commonly echoed sentiment, and one with which I can sympathize, was that, “debate changed the trajectory of my life.” I know literally hundreds of people who would agree with this statement, which reminds me of why I’m so committed to expanding access for those who have the most to gain from it.
On that note, I had brought with me two students from the Boston Debate League to speak to our guests about their experiences and how they feel debate has helped them. Both were seniors, young black men in their late teens from low income families. One of them, Charles, is in his third year of debate and was one of the very first students to join the League during our inaugural season. The other, Stephen, is finishing up his first and only year of high school debate (both of these names are pseudonyms).
Looking at them in contrast to the rest of the room, I had to wonder to what extent they felt like a part of this debate fraternity. Nearly everyone in attendance was a former debater, and most were white men of middle age or older. Those who weren’t already wealthy were certainly well on their way, with connections to prominent institutions like Harvard University.
I had prepped them ahead of time, and the kids understood their role as both spokespeople for the League and evidence of our accomplishments. The very fact that they were able to speak extemporaneously, coherently, and persuasively to this distinguished audience was proof that we were doing something right, after all.
Charles thanked me afterwards for the opportunity and told me he was honored to have been chosen. Still, I couldn’t help but wander what that room looked like to them. Did they see their own futures, debaters who had parlayed a valuable extracurricular activity into prestigious and lucrative careers? Or did they see foreigners, people separated from them by the great gulfs of wealth, money, and power?
And how did I look as I, also a white man who for some reason could afford to volunteer so much time and money (they don’t know that I play poker), worked the room, introducing myself to the illuminati and thanking them for their support? Did they see me as a fellow-in-arms, playing the same game they were to try to direct some of this wealth and influence towards their less fortunate peers? Or was I just another white guy glad-handing the good ol’ boys as they looked on silently?