If we want to partake of the art of living, we need to master the
art ofarguing. And the only way to make your case successfully, says a
leading attorney, is to psychologically open up the other person, whether
it's your boss, your spouse, of your child.
For at least the last 10 months, most of us have been spending more
time listening to lawyers than we ever thought possible. Whether or not
they're giving their profession a bad name, you have to admit there's one
thing they excel at: arguing. Perhaps no one does it better than Gerry
Spence--you know, the guy in the fringed suede jacket who seemed to turn
up everywhere commenting on the Simpson trial. In a career full of them,
he's never lost a criminal trial. So we decided he might have a thing or
two to tell us about the art of arguing.
--The Editors.
There should be a sign taped to the refrigerator of every, home and
on the boss s door in every place of employment. The sign should read
PLEASE ARGUE WITH ME. The art of argument is the art of living. Argument
is the affirmation of our being. It is the principal instrument of human
interaction.
In the end, argument is not always combat conducted with words. It
is often more like intercourse--an activity most satisfying and valuable
when both parties join in.
I once believed, as most do, that arguments are to be won, the
opponent pummeled into submission and silenced. You can imagine how that
idea played at home. If, in accordance with such a definition, I won an
argument, I began to lose the relationship. Winning an argument merely
meant that I had won the right to live in silence with the woman and
children i loved.
Argument is not the process by which we seek to destroy the Other.
Argument is a tool with which we can achieve an end, fulfill a desire. It
is the incomparable art by which we connect and interact successfully
with the Other. Thus successful argument can never be a verbal bludgeon
with which we beat the Other to surrender. Winning is getting what we
want, which often includes assisting others in getting what they
want.
If I were required to choose the single most essential skill from
the many that make up the art of argument, it would be the ability to
listen. Listening is the ability to hear what people are saying, or not
saying, as distinguished from the words they enunciate. Let me give you
an example of listening for what is not said:
"How do we feel about a widow who is asking for money for the death
of her husband?" I once asked a prospective juror in a case in which I
represented the widow.
I don't know," the juror replied. That did not mean that the juror
didn't know. It meant he didn't feel comfortable telling me. If he felt
all right about money for justice, he would have said, "I feel fine about
it."
Did he have some feeling about this kind of a lawsuit? "Not
really," the juror replied. "Not really" did not mean not really. It
meant probably. The juror did not want to get into a public argument with
the likes of me. If he were at home, he would have said something quite
different. I followed with this question: "If you were home discussing
this case with your wife, is it possible you might say something like
this: 'I don't think people should sue for their dead husbands. All the
money in the world can't bring them back. 1 think those lawsuits are
wrong.'?"
"I don't talk about things like this with my wife," he replied. Now
he was obviously refusing to answer the question at hand.
"If you and I were best friends and were talking about this case
over a beer, what would you tell me?"
"I don't drink beer."
"How about coffee?" I gave him a big friendly smile to assure him I
wasn't wanting to push him around.
Suddenly the juror blurted it out, "My father was killed and my
mother never got a cent." There it was! You could immediately feel all
the pain--a boy without a father, a mother struggling to rear her family
alone.
"It must have been pretty hard on your mother trying to raise a
family by herself." (The words "it must have been" are magical words that
say to the Other, "I understand how it was.")
"You bet." Now the juror and I were on the same side.
"And it must have been hard to grow up without a father."
He looked down at his hands.
"If you could have the power as a boy to get help for your mother,
would you do so?"
"Sure, I did everything I could for her."
"Is it all right with you if I try to help Mrs. Richardson get
justice in this case for herself and her children?"
"Yes," he said. And that was the end of--the magical product of
listening.
Every argument, in court or out, whether delivered over the supper
table or made at coffee break, can be reduced to a story. Before we can
tell an effective story to the Other, we must first visualize the picture
ourselves. Begin to think in story form.
Suppose we want to petition the county commissioners to construct a
new road to replace an existing dangerous one. You could argue that the
county commissioners have the duty to provide safe ingress and egress for
the taxpayers, and that the present road is inherently unsafe and does
not conform to minimum highway standards. You could quote the standards
and cite the specifics of how the road is in violation of those
standards. Or, you could provide the commissioners with the following
argument that takes form of a story.
Tags:
affirmation,
art of argument,
criminal trial,
debate,
desire,
editors,
gerry spence,
human interaction,
intercourse,
opponent,
place of employment,
principal instrument,
profession,
refrigerator,
simpson trial,
submission,
suede jacket
