On Trigger Warnings in Congress

As debaters, specifically Congressional debaters, improve, they might find themselves gaining a habit of using overly descriptive rhetoric that, in most cases, would contribute to their persuasiveness. Good for them! However, this habit can become quite problematic when it comes to discussions involving sensitive topics.

I’ve personally been stuck in Congress chambers or been to camps where I experienced someone going into overly graphic detail about suicide, gun violence, or gender-based violence. I believe that my mentors and fellow competitors mean well, and are genuinely invested in their advocacy. As someone who has been deeply impacted by some of these issues, I sincerely commend them for taking the time to think about, research, and inform others on these topics.

The problem? Well-meaning or not, hearing such descriptions and being completely unprepared to do so causes me to shut down, in and out of the debate space. Who knows who else suffers quietly when a stranger takes their story and dissects it on the floor for all to see? I certainly don’t. I’m worried that these voices will be silenced, not by any fault of their own or even necessarily the others in the debate space, but by the invisible hand of unintentional ignorance.

The number of near-misses I’ve had has to be exponentially higher. At my district qualifier for Nationals, one of my fellow competitors pushed for an agenda with a certain bill, the debate on which almost certainly would’ve touched on the issues of gender-based violence and sexual assault amongst sex workers. Again, I believe my peer meant well and genuinely wanted to spread awareness of the issue and advocate for change. Though it pained me, I ultimately found the courage to propose my own counter-agenda without the inclusion of the bill.

The issue of being triggered becomes ever more important when the stakes rise. A competitor at National Qualifiers shouldn’t have to worry about their qualification hopes being dashed because they missed an entire bill’s worth of debate for the sake of their own mental health. A competitor at the TOC or at Nationals should be focused on their next questioning period, not questioning whether or not they should leave the room during their next speech.

The simple solution, and one that has somewhat been implemented in Minnesota already, is to create a system of content warnings so that competitors can prepare themselves and/or choose to leave the chamber. This, too, is an effort made in good faith. Once again, things are not perfect in an actual Congress round: my experience with this is that the individuals who give trigger warnings usually don’t give me enough information to decide whether or not to leave the chamber.

“Trigger warning: gun violence” doesn’t tell me if the speaker plans to briefly touch on a statistic on homicides (OK to hear) or deeply examine the case of gun suicides in America (not OK). The intent is good, but the execution is much too vague.

I haven’t even considered the judges in the room yet. What can they do if put in a situation like this? The answer is unfortunately, nothing: they are obligated to stay so they can hear and rank every competitor. We are told not to interact with the judges in the round, as if they did not exist. They and the PO are essentially silenced, invisible by design.

In my first and second years of debate, I wasn’t able to articulate my discomfort with these topics or protect myself from these negative experiences. I was shy when I wasn’t with my team and didn’t have many friends in the space, probably a rite of passage for most novices. Encouragement to use my voice and vote to advocate not for my fictional Congressional constituents, but myself, as a real person, came in the form of wisdom brought by my own age, the support of visionary teammates capable of seeing beyond the hazy veil of my fears, and the incisive advocacy of the “trigger warning K” discovered through a curious foray into Public Forum.

It was never intentional that the rest of the Congressional Debate space overlooked my quiet struggle, just the legacy of being born into a society that tends to overlook the mentally ill.

In a good authorship speech, a Congressional debater typically includes their own solution to the problem. So here is mine, in a 3-part plan:

First, be conscious of your speeches and your rhetoric. Encourage your peers to do the same, and use your influence to hold them accountable when they’re not. Out of ignorance, I am probably guilty of the same things that I’ve called out in writing this. As my awareness of my own negative experiences has grown, I have done my best to be more conscious of what I say and how it could possibly hurt others. Reflect on your own experiences, and those that others have shared with you. Make an effort to reach for impacts and words that won’t trigger others, even if it feels like you are doing your own speech a disservice by doing so. There should be no need for unclear trigger warnings or panicked mid-speech thoughts about the social acceptability of running from the chamber at that very moment.

Second, be consciously inclusive of others’ voices, and encourage your peers to do the same. It’s all too easy to forget the shy novice or first-time circuit competitor in the corner of the room when discussing docket, or to speak over their protests in favor of “better debate”. Be aware of this, invite them into the discussion, and take them seriously. Watch out for bills that might easily lead to a situation where your judges or fellow competitors might be subject to damaging rhetoric, however well-intentioned it may be, and ensure everyone’s alright with the discussion. Use your influence to help uplift others that might not feel as able or confident advocating for themselves.

Third, speak up and protect yourself. It may be difficult, it may be distressing, but it is my opinion that it’ll ultimately be less damaging than being thrust into a situation you were unprepared to navigate. Advocacy on the behalf of others risks being lost in translation. It’s hardly controversial for me to say that debate should be a safe space for everyone. Now make that a forceful reality, no matter how awkward that might be! In the spirit of the trigger warning K, walk out if a speech triggers you, no personal privilege required. I know it’s hard to do, especially when stakes are high, but I hope hearing someone else tell you this will make it easier to do. POs: respect this, make it an option, and express that the chair not only “frowns upon one-sided debate” but will not tolerate graphic descriptions of sensitive topics. For the judges in the room, put your boundaries in your paradigm and feel free to drop debaters if they don’t respect them.

The hydra of unintentional ignorance and structural violence is a powerful beast that feeds on the shame and fear of its victims. Your voice is a weapon in the fight against it. It is not only that of our fictitious constituents, but also yours to wield. We should be fighting for the safety of our citizens every Saturday, not worrying about ours.