Un-Original Oratory

At the heart of any student who calls themselves a speaker or a debater, is a writer. Regardless of whether you aced your AP Language exam or enjoyed penning short stories as a kindergartener, the power that all students in this activity derive from the spoken word vastly relies on both one’s own writing ability as well as the writing of others. While for some, it’s a simple task to research obscure policy proposals from 1986, cut that into a card, and implant it into a debate case, platform speakers require an entirely different sort of writing ability. To be in a platform event—specifically Original Oratory—is to be a person with a story to tell. Every person has that within them, but the ability to truly and effectively communicate your own beliefs is the true standard that every person in Speech and Debate should hold themselves upto. What is this activity if not to learn how to communicate your own stories, thoughts, and beliefs?

Unfortunately, this ideal has become increasingly less common in the Speech and Debate community. And that is my concern. If the goal of forensics is to write something true and unique to yourself, why is it that all Original Oratories sound the same? Let’s get to the root of this, by first, outlining the causes of unoriginality, drafting up the effects, and finally presenting a finished copy with some solutions.

Okay, but for real, isn’t that how just about all Oratories go? Funny, hopefully relatable introduction followed by “discovering” the problem and finally roadmapping your speech? And don’t even get me started on “and that is my concern.”

My oratory has been no exception. I’ve been complicit in those exact same creative compromises myself. Last year, when I was writing my speech, I was obsessed with finding the “perfect” Oratory. What was the best topic? I scoured the Internet, searching for more and more finals-round videos that would make me not just a better speaker, but a better writer. So, as I analyzed these performances, I found myself searching for the perfect words I was supposed to use. The words that would subtly signal to my judges that, yes, I was a real part of the Speech and Debate community, a real Orator.

We all do this to an extent. We try to emulate the people that we admire, regardless of whether it’s a debater, a speaker, or a parent we look up to. But, it becomes a problem when we as a community are unable to innovate.

In the National Speech and Debate Association’s Mission and Values statement, they write about “envision[ing] a world in which” forensics teams across the nation foster, among other things, “creative skills.” Not only is Speech and Debate as a broad activity meant to be creative, but Original Oratory specifically has original in the name. How is it that we have come so far away from that very goal?

Don’t get me wrong! I’ve heard hundreds of Oratories in my time as a competitor and each has had its own voice. Well, it's its own voice, shadowed by another. A voice, or style of writing, that supposedly is meant to turn an ordinary speech into an award-winning Oratory.

This lack of originality in Original Oratory is a sign of a much larger problem in the Speech and Debate community. We as a community have become too afraid to take risks.

But where does this fear stem from? Largely, it comes from the fact that a vast majority of our judges—through absolutely no fault of their own—simply do not know how to judge Speech and Debate events. And why should they? At local tournaments especially, they’re there just to support their high school teenagers and allow them the opportunity to compete.

Having parent judges means that students must follow the ways in which other student’s have previously been successful. For many, that means watching past year’s final rounds at National in order to get a glimpse of how an oratory is “really done.” While that may, of course, have its benefits, it also means a striking loss of innovation.

But honestly, for many, there is absolutely no space to even attempt to take risks. Our Speech and Debate programs across the country are already struggling to survive as it is. In the 2019-2020 school year, the National Speech and Debate Association Data Warehouse reports that a total of 154,429 students were on NSDA school rosters. However today, in the most recently reported year, that number has dramatically declined. The 2022-23 Membership Database report shows only 137,568 students on rosters. That’s a drop of nearly twenty thousand students over the past three years. The COVID-19 pandemic was the straw that broke the camel’s back for many programs, spelling entire team disappearances. Even when schools were finally allowed to be back in-person, for many, the funding was simply no longer there. For three years, the activity has been slowly deteriorating and so has much of its external support.

This struggle only cements the fact that we are at the mercy of our judges. This overreliance on individuals who aren’t familiar with the NSDA to judge those very rounds has compromised so much of the ingenuity that Speech and Debate lives off of. This is a problem that affects each and every one of us, regardless of whether you’re an orator or not.

But what can we do about it?

For such a multifaceted problem, nothing but multifaceted solutions are required. On a broader scale, seek out judges who are familiar with Speech and Debate. Contact NSDA alumni and college students nearby and ask them to help judge. Remember, judging counts as volunteering! Not only does it benefit those competing, but it helps foster community for the judges as well. If you can’t find any alumni, petition your local district to enact judge training courses or, if that’s too intensive, provide each judge with a rundown on what the aim of each event is, to create better judge standardization.

As for the issue of the “Un-Original” Oratory, the solution is easier said than done: take risks. Not only does innovation come from our abilities to expand our boundaries, but it allows for exciting change. Taking risks is inherently hard, though. Take baby steps; you don’t have to jump off the deep end all at once. In fact, I did this for the current iteration of my Oratory, by incorporating skills from Dramatic Interpretations to appeal to different emotions than what an oratory would normally do. Feel free to experiment!

No matter what anyone says, I will staunchly defend Original Oratory as being the hardest event. And yes, I know policy exists! But, ten minutes to persuade a person to change their entire worldview? That’s absurd! Even so, that’s what a good oratory can accomplish. Champions aren’t made in between the lines—they’re made on the edges. Innovate, experiment, but most importantly, remember to have fun—and please, don’t write an un-Original Oratory!