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.