"I was driving down Beach Creek Road today. I had my four-year-old
daughter, Sarah, with me. I strapped her as tightly into the seat as I
could, because I knew the road could be very dangerous, and I strapped
myself in as well. Although this was a dangerous road, it was the only
one Sarah and I could take to town.
"As usual I drove very slowly, hugging the shoulder all the way. As
I was coming to that first blind curve, I thought, What would happen to
us if a drunk comes around that corner on the wrong side of the road?
What if a speeding driver barreled around that curve and slid slightly
over the center line? There would be no escape for us. The shoulder is
narrow. There is a deep drop-off. I looked at my little daughter and I
thought, She is innocent. Why should she be subjected to this
danger?
"And then when I was well into the curve I saw the approaching
vehicle. A lot of thoughts flashed through my mind. I recalled there had
been four deaths on this road in the past ten years, and I don't know how
many wrecks that resulted in serious injury. I thought, based on the
number of deaths per thousand persons in this war zone, a person would
have had a much better chance to survive in Vietnam.
"As you can see, this time Sarah and I made it. This time the
driver wasn't drunk or inattentive. This time the driver was in control
of his car. But there wasn't much room to spare. I could have reached out
and touched his car. The question is, when will Sarah and I become just
another statistic on this road? Will you remember me standing here,
imploring you to do something about this? Especially for her?
Please."
The argument creates word images of innocent people trapped in a
war zone, of inescapable danger, of death. It touches the emotions of the
commissioners who have the power and therefore the responsibility.
The story is the easiest form for almost any argument to take. You
don't have to memorize anything. You already know the whole story. You
see it in the mind's eye, whereas you may or may not be able to remember
the structure and sequence of a formal argument.
Why is the story argument so powerful? Because it speaks in the
language form of the species. Its structure is natural. The story is
always built around a thesis that is advanced by the argument. Ask
yourself, "What do I want?" I want the commissioners to widen a dangerous
road. The thesis that forwards my want is that the commissioners have the
duty to protect the people.
The purpose of every story is to create mind pictures, a mind movie
of the argument. Words that do not create images should he discarded. Use
simple words that create pictures and action and that generate feeling. I
don't choose intellectual words. I visualize the argument in human
terms.
Successful argument, like successful lovemaking, requires two
participants. And, like successful lovemaking, the desire of one cannot
be forced upon the other. Yet how often the Other is closed off to us! If
we could but open them up to receive our arguments!for whenever the Other
wants to hear us, the simplest argument will win.
The key to opening the Other to our arguments is to empower the
Other to reject us, putting our power in the Other's hands. Empowering
the Other to accept or reject our arguments removes the Other's fear, the
fear that always defeats us.
When I make a final argument to the jury, I often employ a story
that is now well known among trial lawyers--"The Spence Bird Story." I no
longer remember its origin. I did not create it, but it is a parable that
wonderfully empowers the jury and at the same time beseeches them to do
justice--the justice on my side of the case.
Once there was a wise old man and a smart-aleck boy. The boy was
driven by a single desire--to expose the wise old man as a fool. The
smart fleck had a plan. He had captured a small and fragile bird in the
forest. With the bird cupped in his hands so that the old man could not
see it, the boy's scheme was to approach the old man and ask, "Old man,
what do I have in my hand?" To which the wise old man would reply, "You
have a bird, my son:"
Then the boy would ask, "Old man, is the bird alive or dead?" If
the old man replied that it was dead, the boy would open his hands and
allow the bird to fly off into the forest. But if the old man replied
that the bird was alive, the boy would crush the bird inside his cupped
hands until the it was dead. Then the boy would open his hands and say,
"See, the bird is dead!"
And so, the smart-aleck boy went to the old man, and he said, as
planned, "Old man, what do I have in my hands?"
The old man, as predicted, replied, "You have a bird, my
son."
"Old man," the boy then said with disdain, "is the bird alive or is
it dead?"
Whereupon the old man looked at the boy with his kindly old eyes
and replied, "The bird is in your hands, my son."
It is then that I turn to the jury and say, "And so, too, ladies
and gentlemen, the life of my client is in yours."
No longer is there any contest between the attorney and the jury.
Yet the jury knows from the story that, despite their complete power,
they must not kill the bird--the life of my client, which I have put in
their hands.
From the book How To Argue And Win Every Time. Copyright (C) 1995
by Gerry Spence. Reprinted with permission of St. Martin's Press, Inc.,
New York, NY.
PHOTO (COLOR): If you want to partake of the art of living, we need
to master the art of arguing
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