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A Square by Any Other Name07/30/03 "What do you see?" Over the past dozen years I have asked that question of each new class of college students. One of the first things I do after they take their seats is draw four intersecting lines on the board, query them, and observe while they puzzle over what sort of response their new law teacher is seeking. The exercise almost always plays out the same way. I point to a student. "A square?" he asks hopefully. I ask another. "I would say a poorly drawn square." "Yes, a square," mimics the third student robot. I smile as the process repeats itself, each subsequent response invariably an echo of earlier answers. When they finish someone asks, "Is there a right answer?" My response is always the same: "No, because there are so many ways to look at the same thing. We know what you see. Now let me show you what I see." At that point I expand on the simple square, extend a few lines, and end up with a cube. Six sides. Six potential points of view, areas of discussion, promising fields for debate--where the students saw only one. This exercise is one of a paltry handful of things I remember vividly from law school, and perhaps the most valuable lesson imprinted into me. "Most people see what they want to see," declared my law school dean. "But there are many ways to look at the same issue. Never be afraid to speak up and express what you see, believe, or are experiencing. Your ability to do so might trigger vigorous debate, but debate is the engine of freedom and the foundation for good law and a healthy society." After ten minutes in my class, my students know what I mean when I tell them to "flip their mental cube up in the air, spin it around, and give me a different point of view or argument." Writing a bi-weekly op-ed (opinion-editorial) piece for the Telegraph is not that different from teaching law. Both challenge others to listen to and seek out differing points of view; to articulate why they believe what they believe; to challenge their own long-held and often cherished beliefs; to substantiate their position with facts and reason; to question the world they live in--or at least a small slice of it. Both force others to ask . . . W-H-Y? By its very nature, public discourse on sensitive issues will offend someone's sensibilities. And the resulting debate is often vigorous (and on occasion, rancorous). Many readers express thanks for raising a particular issue or call or write to discuss it further in a healthy dialogue grounded in facts and reason. This high level of discourse--the same style of conversation I try so hard to foster in my classroom--is refreshing and healthy for the body politic. Some readers, however, do not appreciate it when I tip their "mental square" on its side and expose it for what it really is: an entire arena of differing ideas and viewpoints that may diverge from their own. Even a whiff of public disagreement triggers outrage--and it is often directed at me. Yes, I have the hutzpah to raise a lone voice and ask what others think about an issue, but it has nothing to do with being "arrogant " or "feeling superior to others" (as some critics have complained). This column is called "But That's Just Me" for a reason. My training and nature has always been to ask questions, probe, clarify, and attempt to resolve outstanding thorny issues. Why? Because I believe in the arena of ideas, and welcome the ensuing disagreement and debate. The ultimate side of the issue one comes to rest upon is not important. What is critical is that people seek clarity in their own thinking and that reason prevails; to welcome, but not accept blindly, different points of view; to come to appreciate why YOU believe what you believe. A difference of opinion may expose a raw nerve along the way and arouse some discomfort, but such is the price we pay to live in a free society. Robust public discussion is not merely a luxury. It is a necessity to keep us strong and free. |
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