A century of verbal duels by an odd club

Press, 27 September 1989, Page 21

A century of verbal duels by an odd club

MARGARET McLACHLAN reports on the Forensic Club, whose Thursday meetings are part of her family’s folklore (her father is a member of the small Christchurch group). She was the first woman in 100 years to cross the club’s threshold:

•w—IRST IMPRESSIONS of the M Forensic Club confirm my X childhood images. lam surrounded by meh in grey suits and ties or sports jackets and jerseys. There is no place for women here. . Some years ago, a motion that the club hold a ladies’ night once every 25 years, lapsed for want of a seconder. Thank heavens there are no silly hats or secret handshakes. The first speaker opens the debate: "Tonight we are asked to affirm the motion ‘That too much attention is paid to sport’ — a subject first debated in 1896.” As the speaker grows more confident, the audience contribute mumurings of disapproval, consent or laughter. A bell is rung, he ties up his argument with a very long final sentence, and the floor is given to the negative. Speakers have different styles — strong and erudite, anecdotal and amusing, scholarly, flippant. They cajole or praise their audience. When all four speakers have had their allotted time, the chairman invites responses from the floor. Members are not hesitant to speak. “Mr Walker did not mention the heavy commercialisation of sport.” ... “How much sport is too much?” ... “What we are discussing in this debate is the meaning of life.” “Half-time, a three-minute break for oranges,” the chairman says at 9 p.m. Actually, tea, coffee and muffins are served while members catch up with others on the events of the past week.

Speeches from the floor continue after supper, adding ideas, recounting anecdotes, entertaining, informing. At 10 p.m., team leaders are given the chance to sum up and reply. Finally the score is taken — 12-7 for the affirmative. Matters of general business include the annual dinner, when the club’s centenary will be celebrated. The Forensic Club is an esoteric Christchurch institution. It was founded by E. R. Webb in 1890. He later became the bursar of Christ’s College. Objects of the club were listed as “the mutual improvement of members by means of discussions, debates,

essays, readings and recitations and criticisms.” The name stems from the Latin word “forum”: a place of discussion, a platform for ideas. Members always refer to it as “The Club” even when talking about individual members. In addition to debating issues, the club has five annual events: an evening of readings and recitations, a half-yearly supper, a brains trust evening, a guest speaker, and an annual dinner. Members believe it to be the second-oldest debating club in the English-speaking world, second only to the Oxford Union. It has met regularly from April to September for 100 years. Apart from the outbreak of World War I, meetings have been called off only twice — in 1900, the news of the Relief of Mafeking reached Christchurch and club members celebrated with the rest of the city, while one night in the 1970 s Christchurch streets was considered too icy for safe travel.

Intending members are invited to attend a club evening by another member and asked to speak as part of the debate. The club has 34 members, including three who joined this year. Membership is limited to 40, and in the 1940 s there used to be a waiting list. Richard Bowron, a lawyer and chancellor of Canterbury University, joined the Forensic Club in 1948. He has remained a member, except from 1963 to 1975 when he was involved in Rotary. He says the club is distinguished from other debating societies by the lack of emphasis on competition. “Winning is not a very important part of the Forensic Club. Viewpoints are expressed by people from different walks of life who have different attitudes ... and I think it enriches your own life as a result.” Members include lawyers, an

electrician, accountants, company secretaries, businessmen, teachers and retired people. It can take a while to get to know the members’ occupations because new ones are not invited to talk about themselves. The rules forbid mentioning a person’s job in a debate. While other groups may steer clear of discussing politics, religion and sex, Richard Bowron says the club debates all three in a spirit of good humour. Some members have pronounced political views, but everyone has to speak as they are assigned and often will have to argue against their earlier convictions. This forces them to look into the reasons behind current issues and produce a convincing argument. He compares this to debates on television: "Full of verbal pyrotechnics, signifying nothing.” Debate preparation is important, but members must also think on their feet. Bowron recalls debating “That circumstances may justify an untruth” and in response to a question from the floor having to summarise the nature of truth in 10 minutes. “The Forensic Club improves your confidence and your speaking skills,” he says. The reason for the club’s longevity, Bowron thinks, is its democratic non-hierarchical nature (secretary is the only office), as well as its lack of competitiveness. Often the side that has the most difficult case to argue will be given support from the floor. Richard Bowron cites L. Rollo, “a marvellous old man, still speaking in his late 705,” as one who commanded such respect that the other side was five votes down before they even started to speak. Grant Mangin is the youngest member. The 25-year-old with university debating background joined 18 months ago. He says it is a non-hostile environment, conducive to gaining confidence. “Everyone who attends has the opportunity to directly participate in the debate. “When I was invited to join the club, I certainly had hesitations about it. An all-male club in the 1980 s, urghh.” Grant often feels as if he is introducing the reality

of today’s situation as an unemployed part-time cleaner (with a master’s degree in history).

He thinks the club would benefit from a range of racial groups and the introduction of women members. But he says there are enough differences in opinions, background, lifestyles and work experiences to educate people and broaden their outlook. He says there is a real danger of reinforcing prejudiced views because of the generation gap. Most members grew up in the post-war period in a time of great stability and order. He says this contrasts with the “uncertainty, conflict and chaos” that is the experience of many young people today. Only two members are in their 20s; the rest are 40 and upwards. Grant says it is important to recruit younger members unless the club is to become geriatric and lose touch with reality. Most members will prepare well for a debate and be forced to re-evaluate their position on a number of social issues such as pay equity, the Treaty of Waitangi and foreign relations, he says. “The club has justified its existence because people are leaving here more informed about an issue than when they arrived.” Grant Mangin says he has enjoyed talking about the club: “I always like to hear the sound of my own voice.” Bernie Walker is the doyen of the club. He joined in 1941, and as the oldest member he commands considerable respect from the others. His conversation is brimming with anecdotes about

past members and entertaining speeches. “They’ve always tried to get all sorts of opinions — Leftists, Rightists, they don’t mind a crackpot or two.” He spent his working life doing physical work and enjoys the intellectual stimulation and humour. “It certainly made a difference to me. If you can speak in that damned place, you can speak anywhere. There’s no place like it.” Bernie Walker says humour is a quality which cannot be forced, but people will often manage to see the funny side of things. Seldom do members get heated over an argument, and they are warned that anything said in a debate is to go no further. He believes this is now enforced because the view expressed by someone was once used.as evidence in an important court case.

Little has changed since he first joined. Although the constitution and standing orders haven’t changed in 100 years, the club is less strict on procedure than it used to be when up to half an hour could be used in debating points of order.

Another member recalls how Tommy Harker made the rule of relevance redundant. He would carry his audience spellbound as

he “strode across the grain of an argument.” John Auld, the club secretary, has found friendship and challenges there since 1974. He says research for a debate is crucial to back up your own beliefs, experiences and opinions, especially if you have to debate against your natural inclination. His own detailed preparation for affirming the motion “That the Club supports Lotto” included visiting the Lotteries Board and the Lotteries Commission in Wellington. He considers it unlikely the club will support Lo.tto, but says people deliberately vote to even the voting or support the underdog. Taking a vote is a necessary formality, he says, which brings the evening to a close, and removing the vote would be as disastrous as if there were no supper at 9 p.m. John Auld says the club makes no attempt to move with the times. In 1985, it was forced to vacate the library of the Chamber of Commerce building for its weekly meetings. To many members, it felt like the “death knell.” Auld was surprised at the ready acceptance of the Knox Hall, their meeting place since 1988. Attendance is up 20 per cent this year. The Forensic Club is not a substitute for a gentlemen’s club, a political party or a service organisation, says Auld: “It has no purpose in life whatsoever except for the entertainment and possibly the education of members who provide that for themselves. “That makes it quite peculiar, doesn’t it?”

No emphasis on competition

Procedure not so rigid