If you’re a high school student (or coach a team of high school students) and have a few extra hours this weekend, there’s still time to enter the NHSEB’s case-writing competition. From an email shared on the 22nd:
“Eligibility: All currently enrolled high school students in the United States are eligible to enter.
Submission Deadline: March 1, 2022
Winner Announcement: April 10, 2022
Grand Prize: The author of the case selected will be awarded a $500 prize.
Honorable Mentions: Two prizes of $250 will be awarded to other distinguished cases”
For additional details, click here. And if you accept the challenge and would like me to review a draft, just send it to matt (at) mattdeaton.com by midnight Saturday.
Ethics Bowl to the Rescue! How the Anti-Debate Is Saving Democracy has been in the works for some time, and will soon be ready for beta reader feedback. What do beta readers do? They review a manuscript at their leisure, usually over 3-to-4 weeks, then provide general impressions, improvement suggestions and feedback to help make the final product better. Suggestions can concern chapter order, tone, word choice, topics – whatever comes to mind.
What’s in it for you? Apart from my eternal gratitude, I’ll thank you by name in the book, and mail you an autographed copy. Plus you can take pride in helping spread ethics bowl! The better the book is (thanks to your generous feedback), the more people will read it, the more it will help spread ethics bowl.
Thanks for considering! No special expertise required. If you’re an ethics bowl enthusiast in any capacity, you’re invited to beta read Ethics Bowl to the Rescue! For more information, shoot me an email or use the contact form at MattDeaton.com.
In January of 2019 I shared an Ethics Bowl Public Speaking Tips article. Knowing what you’re talking about, being yourself and practicing remain the foundation of smooth, confident delivery. But back then, almost all bowls were in-person. Today, almost all are remote.
I actually wrote a book on public speaking (now also on audiobook), revised it in 2021, and chapter 12: Using Technology, actually has a section on remote presenting. Here’s an excerpt that should help whether you’re an organizer, judge, moderator, competitor or coach. There are even a few ethics bowl references – enjoy!
This handsome creature is an Urban Honey Badger, honoring an assertiveness drill in chapter 6: Conquering Nervousness. Freaky head, but his body is from a famous Socrates statue (not Rodin’s “The Thinker” – common mistake).
Whether it’s via Zoom, Citrix, YouTube Live or good old teleconference, the challenge of holding a remote audience’s attention increases tenfold. It’s tough enough for people to resist checking their phones when they’re sitting right in front of you. Imagine the multitasking when they’re out of sight.
You’ll therefore have to up your audience engagement game, but your job as remote presenter is actually easier in many ways. If it’s audio only, you won’t have to worry about your silent message (though you won’t be able to use it to your advantage, either). And while you should still prepare a clear presentation and rehearse, you won’t need to master your material quite as well as if you were delivering it in person—can always pull up reference materials, refer back to your notes, and have a timer in front of you to ensure you stay on schedule (though definitely still rehearse, still know what material is coming before it arrives).
This past January, I was honored to be invited to discuss my Ethics in a Nutshell: The Philosopher’s Approach to Morality in 100 Pages with Chinese Ethics Bowl students. Thanks to tensions over Taiwan, economic competitiveness and the coronavirus (dang, China, you really screwed the pooch on that one), our governments aren’t the closest allies. Many consider an eventual Sino-American war inevitable. So I viewed the session as an opportunity to befriend ethics-minded future leaders, and maybe, in some small way, decrease the chances that my grandkids will be fighting China in World War III.
I asked the host if there was anything I might do or say to express my goodwill and respect, and he suggested a line from a famous Chinese poem. So my first words were, “Sheeyan chew woo yuan tchin, wa leeee, shan weigh lin.” Given my Tennessee drawl and the fact that I know zero Mandarin, I’m certain I butchered this badly. But it was supposed to roughly translate, “People can become friends and neighbors, even when they’re on the other side of the world.” The attendees seemed to appreciate the effort, and I very much enjoyed discussing argument by analogy, why we can’t base morality on legality, and other cool ideas with them. You can actually watch it yourself. Just search YouTube for “Deaton Ethics Bowl China Seminar.”
A couple of months after that, I was asked to kickoff a series of trainings for Ethics Olympiad participants in Australia. Another chance for cultural exchange, I opened by pulling out a globe. “If you were to get on a plane and fly all the way across the Pacific Ocean and land on the West Coast of the US, then drive east for 3-to-4 days, you’d make your way to the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in the great state of Tennessee, which is where I live. What do Tennesseans do for fun? Well, lots of things, but in addition to soccer and ATV-riding, my own family enjoys trips to the mountains. Here’s a picture of us swimming at Indian Boundary Lake in the Cherokee National Forest.” About that time, I (and everyone else) heard a young man who’d forgotten to mute his mic say, “No, he’s still talking about his stupid family…” Ha! The Zoom screen was filled with faces, and from the look on his, he really wanted to blend in with the crowd. But since his mic was hot, his box lit up, I stopped, squinted to read his name, and immediately called him out. “Mickey Boffsetter? My stupid family? Did you not hear the host explain that I’m a kickboxer?” I rolled my chair backwards to the desk behind me and retrieved my “Fight of the Night” boxing trophy. “Do you see this? Don’t make me come to Australia.”
I was of course smiling and kidding, and he was of course mortified—tried to apologize and make excuses. “Sir, what I meant was…” But I just cut him off and poured it on thicker, which the audience loved—they were rolling with surprised laughter.
Another remote meeting icebreaker example, I once led a series of online workshops for offices interested in improving communication. Some had interpersonal issues (aka they hated each other), so I chose a lighthearted opener: Name That Tune. The first song: a Janet Jackson B-side track from 1984, “Communication.” Some recognized her voice, but no one got the song. The second was Led Zeppelin’s “Communication Breakdown,” which a few middle-aged white dudes knew. And the last was The Beastie Boys’ “Sure Shot” from their Ill Communication album, which no one but me admitted to ever hearing, let alone liking.
By the end most of the attendees were at least grinning, everyone knew the session’s focus would be improving communication, and that I was an approachable host with excellent musical taste.
Another example: I once gave a webinar on business ethics to a mixed group of human resource specialists, website designers and managers. To get them in the ethical thinking mood, I began with what philosophers, attorneys and fans of NBC’s “The Good Place” know as the classic trolley scenario.
Imagine seeing a runaway trolley about to crash into and kill five track workers. You then notice that you’re standing next to a lever that can divert the trolley onto another track, sparing the first five, but killing another worker. What should you do? Stand by and allow the original five to die? Or pull the lever, save the five, but effectively kill the one?
I then asked an open-ended question. “What do you think a person in this situation should do, and why?” This led to a conversation on the differences between psychological predictability, legal permissibility, and moral rightness, and opened the participants’ minds in ways a poll or monologue never could have. When we got to the case study on employee privacy, I had no trouble getting folks to discuss, which was my goal all along.
In cases of remote audience disengagement emergency, one somewhat mean tactic is to ask a question and call on attendees by name (depending on the software, you should be able to see their names right there on the screen). Once you’ve called on a couple, everyone will pay attention so they don’t get caught dozing. But again, this is mean, so if you do it, be gentle, confess a time that you were called on and didn’t know the answer, and mail everyone chocolate afterwards.
However, all the chocolate in the world won’t help if your presentation is bad. So remember to apply the basics: thoroughly research your topic and organize your material, punch up your key points with emotionally potent examples, and practice, practice, practice. Enunciate and speak directly into the mic (confirmation that your audience can hear you is a good idea). If you’re using a webcam, your silent message is back in play, and now includes everything in the background, so make sure the camera is capturing your face and torso—not just the top of your hair and ceiling. Unless you have hair like Vanilla Ice did in the 90s, in which case zoom in on that glorious mane.
Look at the camera as much as you can to simulate eye contact. Looking at the lens rather than your screen will make your delivery feel more intimate, though the audience may not be able to articulate why.
Last, minimize background noise and distractions. With a four-year-old on the loose, my home office isn’t the most silent of studios. But Noah’s noisy playtimes are a blessing and burden I gladly accept, and the rest of the family does an excellent job keeping him quiet(ish) anytime I’m leading an important call.
In fact, the last time someone crashed a remote meeting on my end the culprit wasn’t kids, but livestock. An unseasonably warm February afternoon, I had my office windows open, and when my neighbor delivered some hay (did I mention that I live in the sticks?), his cows thanked him with moos of joy. I thought they were too far away for my mic to pick up. But their bellows of lunchtime joy echoed throughout the valley, all the way to the attendees’ speakers. “Matt, are those cows in the background?” “Yeah, sorry about that. They were hungry.”
Progress continues on Ethics Bowl to the Rescue! How the Anti-Debate is Saving Democracy. If all goes well, it’ll be ready for release in paperback, Kindle, audiobook and for free in PDF right here at EthicsBowl.org in time to kickoff the 2022-2023 season. One recent development: villains!
SuperSocrates, whose mission it is to elevate discourse and facilitate the collaborative pursuit of justice, is our hero. But rather than battling abstractions, he channels the power of ethics bowl to combat specific enemies. Or such is my idea for an early chapter 🙂
Below are some draft characters. Have ideas for better names, better descriptions, better villains? Worried this is too silly? Not silly enough? Share your thoughts in the comments and thanks in advance!
Dr. Denial
Power: sewing uncertainty
Catchphrase: “What is truth, really?”
Weaknesses: investigative reporters, Snopes
Subjectivo
Power: eroding moral standards
Catchphrase: “Yeah, well that’s your opinion, man!”
Magritte-inspired Rawls art by philosopher Renee Bolinger – I have this print hanging in my home office!
Most ethics bowl teams are familiar with the four dominant ethical theories: Kantianism, Utilitarianism, Care Ethics and Virtue Ethics. Sometimes you’ll hear mention of a political philosophy such as Libertarianism. And there’s rumor that a team once tried to base a case analysis on the work of Hegel (not advised!).
However, John Rawls’s Veil of Ignorance / Original Position is a viable, underused approach (far more viable than anything to do with Hegel). It’s especially useful when a team first begins analyzing a case or as a double-check against latent bias as competition nears. How does it work?
Here’s an excerpt from Abortion Ethics in a Nutshell: A Pro-Both Tour of the Moral Arguments where I introduce the approach. Note that Rawls considered it an extension of Kant’s Categorical Imperative, and Kant considered his Categorical Imperative an extension of the Golden Rule. So if this feels faintly like treating others the way they’d like to be treated, it kinda is – an innovative way to imagine yourself in multiple others’ shoes. Enjoy!
Abortion Ethics in a Nutshell Chapter 10: Third Parties
Whether wealthy or broke, healthy or sick, gay or straight, people tend to prefer policies that benefit them personally. Even when we try to be objective, rich black men wind up preferring policies that advantage rich black men. Working-class whites wind up preferring policies that benefit working-class whites.
This presents a problem. Our conclusions are supposed to be the product of logic, not power. However, what if there were a way to transcend our clouding biases?
The Golden Veil
Out of the corner of your eye you spot a luxurious gold curtain floating in mid-air. Across the top reads a mysterious Lord of the Rings-style inscription. It’s not written in a recognizable language. But somehow you know it says, “Veil of Ignorance.”
Curious, you pull it aside and step past. A flash of light dims to a soft glow. You know you were just reading about abortion ethics. But you can’t remember where you were. In fact, you can’t remember much of anything about yourself—your name, race, gender, income, occupation, education, religious commitments, political allegiances, handicaps, talents, hobbies, passions, phobias. Not even your favorite flavor of ice cream.
Holding up a hand to inspect your skin color, you can only see a shade of gray. Feeling your body to determine your sex, your brain won’t say.
Dumbfounded, yet oddly at peace, you see that I’ve followed you. We both admit an overwhelming desire to discuss abortion. But we can’t remember if we’re generally for or against it, what our family and colleagues expect us to think about it or how we ourselves might be impacted by it.
You suggest that we revisit the Rate That Abortion exercise. We do, and while we’re happy with our scores, they’re definitely different than before.
We discuss the nature of the conception, the mother’s interests, the UDH’s value, the child’s quality of life and the father’s autonomy. On some level, we want our conclusions to benefit us personally. But blocked from knowing who we are, we’re prevented from gaming the analysis in our favor.
Recognizing that personal preferences should have no bearing on morality, we agree that whatever we decide behind this magic golden veil should govern our views when we return to the real world. We know that we may not like what we’ve decided here. But we shake hands nonetheless, promising to promote whatever conclusions we’ve drawn from this enlightened perspective.
20th century American political philosopher John Rawls designed this “Original Position” thought experiment as a sort of reasoning machine.[1] Issues go in, more objective than usual answers come out. His primary focus was the basic structure of society, or what a nation’s constitution would ideally guarantee. But the method can be applied to any issue, including abortion.
I’ll save the full exposition of Rawls for Political Philosophy in a Nutshell (forthcoming 2025, maybe?).The idea here is to offer his approach as a supplement. If you didn’t know if you were male or female, Republican or Democrat, Baptist or Agnostic, rape victim or expecting father, how might your analyses change?
In fact, how might your analyses change if you didn’t know if you were an impacted third party? Everyone’s interests should matter some. The question is, how much?
Give Rawls’s approach a try as you consider (and reconsider) ethics bowl cases. We all have our biases, and there’s no way to root them out completely. But imagining what we might think if we could scrub them away can get us closer to an objective perspective. Desk copies of the book are free for educators — just ask. And if a 20-minute lecture vid would help, click here.
[1] Rawls wrote several books, but for a thirty-page synopsis see his “Justice as Fairness: Political not Metaphysical,” Philosophy and Public Affairs, Vol. 14, No. 3. (Summer, 1985) pages 223-251. Or find my twenty-minute lecture vid on Sandel’s Justice: Chapter 6 at youtube.com/MattDeatonPhD
The flecks of grey, the furrowed brows, the air of unspoken wisdom. Ethics bowl judges are an intimidating bunch. However, here’s a secret. Behind that aura of philosophical gravitas, judges are often the most nervous people in the room.
For one, they may be pedigreed, but are comparative amateurs when it comes to the cases. Teams (good teams, anyway) have dissected them from multiple angles, parsed the nuances and developed all-things-considered views for the entire set. They’ve anticipated objections, formulated pre-emptive replies and strategized how to respond come what may. Judges (good judges, anyway) may have read the case pool once. Those who’ve taken the time to sketch a few notes – and can actually read their handwriting – are doing better than most.
Then there’s the isolated responsibility. Teams can divvy up roles: Suzie covers the team’s general position, Sally the moral relevancies, Sam what a critic might say and a response. They’ve rehearsed, mock bowled with other teams and members knows that if one needs a little help, the others will pick up the slack. Judge collaboration is actually discouraged, each segregated island tasked with delivering an independent objective score. The pressure!
But it’s the last segment of each round – the judges Q&A – when vulnerability peaks. Everyone keenly listens to what you ask and how you ask it. Was there a hint of confirmation in her voice, of disagreement in his posture? Critiqued live and between rounds, while a judge’s role is to judge, they’re also being judged, and are hyperaware.
Then there’s the internal conflict. Part of you is tempted to use the platform to (humbly) steer the discussion towards whatever resolution you think best. Part of you wants to use your brief window to correct a glaring error or illuminate some neglected moral twist. Part of you wants to confirm your authority and expertise, indeed, the authority and expertise of the entire ethics profession.
Talk too much, and you risk coming across as pompous. “Will this guy ever shut up?” Talk too little, and you risk inspiring doubt. “Is that all he had to say?”
I share this not to inspire pity, but to reassure. If you’re a judge and feel any of the above, this is normal. Take a breath, do your best, and remember that without you, the many benefits of ethics bowl would not be possible. But if you’re a team member losing sleep over what a judge may think or ask, know that whatever anxieties and insecurities haunt your bowling experience, you’re not alone. In fact, there’s a good chance the kind volunteers entrusted to judge you are the most nervous people in the room.
While the Michigan High School Ethics Bowl is a fully sanctioned (and arguably the nation’s coolest) NHSEB regional, they don’t use the standard case pool. Instead, local folks author a set intended to be more relevant to the community. From what I can tell, most of the cases and issues are applicable nationally, if not globally. But it’s a uniquely engaging pool, with brief author bios confirming that they’re written by Michiganders, for Michiganders.
Case 4 features a hospital administrator forced to decide whether to honor a request that might complicate a delivery. The mother asks that monitoring of the Unborn Developing Human’s heartrate be disabled during a Cesarean section delivery. The crux of the conflict comes in the final paragraph: Labor and delivery “guidelines suggest that continuous fetal heart rate monitoring is safer for the fetus, because it can allow for early identification of a rupture of the Cesarean scar [a scar due to previous C-sections]—which is deleterious to fetal (and possibly also maternal) well-being. The clinician caring for this person is insistent that the guidelines for continuous monitoring be followed and implemented, but the laboring person is insistent that they will not consent to its use.”
Why a mother would want heartrate monitoring disabled during delivery, I’m unsure. But her motives are relevant to the decision. Is her request driven by some firm, foundational religious reason? (A C-section is already a very unnatural delivery, so it can’t be an objection to the technological help.) Would the monitor make delivery distressing? (Maybe a previous C-section delivery ended badly, and hearing the monitor—or simply knowing the heartrate is being monitored—would cause severe anxiety.) Whatever the case, the strength of the reasons behind her request matter.
The level of risk is also relevant. My wife delivered twice via C-section, and from what I recall, the actual surgery (not counting prep) didn’t last more than twenty minutes, if that. (This doesn’t mean delivering that way is easy or non-dangerous. She suffered a “high spinal” with the second that could have killed her.) If the pregnancy has been normal and checks suggest delivery will be uneventful, maybe disabling the heartrate monitor wouldn’t be a big deal. Maybe complications are exceedingly rare. Then again, to the extent the lack of monitoring would put her or the Unborn Developing Human at unnecessary risk of death or disability, that potential impact would weigh in favor of going ahead and taking the precaution.
It’s also the case that the medical professionals have to balance the mother’s wishes against the Unborn Developing Human’s value, as well as risks to the resulting child’s quality of life. This late in development, the UDH is not only a potential person, but in a few minutes, it will also be a birthed baby. Fully formed and possessing many features of personhood (consciousness, the ability to feel pleasure and pain, the ability to form relationships), and well on its way of becoming a full member of the moral community, more than one party’s interests are at stake. Were the woman not pregnant, we could appropriately focus on her wishes. Were the pregnancy early term, the UDH’s value wouldn’t count as much. But this late in the game, that side of the equation is much weightier.
Ultimately, I’d recommend a conditional analysis. Rather than declaring, “The mother’s wishes should be respected, end of story” or “The UDH’s value should override everything else, end of story,” a thoughtful team could say, “The administrator should decide what to do based on a) the strength of the mother’s motivating reasons and b) the risk of death or disability in light of the value of a late-term UDH.” A team could stipulate additional details and offer a tentative conclusion. But these considerations definitely need to be in the mix.
Cool case! I’m sure the Michigan teams will offer awesome analyses at the bowl next month. I had the honor of judging in 2021, and was very impressed. But for a scheduling conflict, I’d be back this year for sure.
Kudos to case author Lisa Scheiman, Certified Nurse Midwife at the University of Michigan Hospital for 29 years, and trainer of midwifes, medical students and residents, for donating her time and expertise (she also authored case #3). And thanks to the NHSEB for continuing to support the Michigan Bowl’s prerogative to do their thing. Keep doing your thing, A2Ethics!
Earlier this month the American Philosophical Association in collaboration with the Philosophy Documentation Center awarded the National High School Ethics Bowl the 2021 Prize for Excellence and Innovation in Philosophy Programs. As the selection committee put it:
“Prior to the pandemic, NHSEB was already excellent and facilitated the participation of 4,000 high school student across the country… [But during COVID] NHSEB shifted their focus to access and to on-boarding new participating high schools through their NHSEBBridge program, which evolved into the NHSEBAcademy and became an online hub for students, coaches, judges, and volunteers to crowdsource ideas about ethical perspectives, gain perspectives on cases from NHSEB experts, and collaborate to address significant ethical problems. The Academy is evidence of philosophers doing their best work in a public forum, to advance the public good.”
Bravo, NHSEB! So many contributed to the initiative’s original launch, including ethics bowl creator Bob Ladenson, former Intercollegiate Ethics Bowl Directors Richard Greene and Pat Croskery, Roberta Israeloff of the Squire Family Foundation, Jan Boxill, Goeff Sayre-McCord and Katelin Kaiser of UNC’s Parr Center, and early organizers from across the country including George Sherman in Florida, Karen Mizell in Utah and Fred Guy in Baltimore.
But it’s been new director Alex Richardson and support from teammates including Steven Swartzer, Delaney Thull, Austin Foushee and others who’ve steered and elevated NHSEB through the pandemic, turning what could have been a show-stopper into an opportunity for innovation and growth.
Super congrats to Team NHSEB, including the hundreds of coaches, judges, moderators, sponsors and volunteers who are helping take ethics bowl to the next level. Thanks to each of you for moving democracy in a more civil, respectful direction. And thanks to our friends at APA for this well-deserved recognition!
Our friends at NHSEB Academy are hosting a Zoom-based case discussion workshop next Saturday, December 4th at 4:30 EST.
Organized and led by philosophy students taking UNC’s Ethics Bowl and Democratic Deliberation class, coaches and teams will be invited to kindly and cooperatively think through cases 4, 7, 9 and 15:
Suffering in the Wild
23 & Memaw
Priorities, Priorities…
All Eyes on You
Absent judges, score sheets, rankings and awards, this should be a wonderful opportunity to consider these cool issues in good faith. And with many bright moral thinkers in attendance, it should be a simple way to elevate our collective understanding… and also give your team an edge 😉
Recall from Ethics in aNutshell chapter 4 (review it on the Resources page here) differences between morality and legality. Good law tracks morality, but doesn’t establish or guarantee it. Just consider laws legalizing slavery or outlawing educating women. Surely it was immoral to enslave humans even when it was legal in the past. Surely it’s moral to educate women even where it’s illegal today.
Even meta-laws, such as a country’s constitution, aren’t a strong foundation for a moral argument. Your position is supported by the US Constitution? That’s cool. Did you know that document implicitly endorses slavery in Article 1, Section 2, Clause 3? Legal rights claims are tempting, and common, and would be very appropriate in a courtroom. But in an ethics bowl (or ethics paper), they signal that your analysis didn’t go very deep.
Human rights, which some claim exist prior to and even in the absence of a legal framework, are a little better. But not much. The Universal Declaration of Human Rights contains a collection of admirable, aspirational protections. But they’re all prone the same error. Check out the UDHR’s supposed inalienable human right to “periodic holidays with pay” (Article 24). A pre-legal, universal human right to paid holidays? Really? A case can be made that a life without leisure isn’t very fun. But a case can also be made that this doesn’t rise to the level of an inalienable protection naturally enjoyed by all humans, especially the “paid” part.
In addition to being fallible human artifacts, notice how even the language of rights impedes discussion. Rights suggest an all-or-nothing, on/off, absolute nature precluding balance and care, which does more harm than good when trying to think through a tough issue.
For example, if I claim a right to bear arms and you claim a right to public safety, and you think this supposed “right” to public safety is incompatible with private citizens owning arms, we’re at an impasse. The same is true when discussing abortion. If one person asserts a right to life and another a right to control their body, we’re (unnecessarily) stuck.
Invoking rights pretends an issue is fully settled and clear in light of some dominant ethical claim, and that one consideration (the asserted, favored right) dwarfs all others, when that’s simply not the case. Smart human rights theorists usually tie their claims to some fundamental human interest, which helps. But why not avoid the problematic language of rights altogether? It’s too coarse, too oversimplified, and not nearly nuanced enough for careful ethical analysis, including ethics bowl case analysis.
And if your gut’s telling you there’s some strong interest or overriding reason in play, explore the “why” behind it. Rather than ignoring rights claims, use them as clues. It’s far better to unpack the supporting reasons (if any can be found), examine and craft them into a transparent argument, than to invoke the lazy shorthand of rights.
