In debating, clash is neither a hostile encounter nor an English punk group.
Anyone who was ever a high-school or college debater knows that debaters define clash between two sides as adversaries’ discussion of the same claims or topics, simply from opposing points of view.
That means clash is a good thing: both sides are talking about tax legislation from 1987, for example, but with conflicting views about whether the legislation was beneficial.
If one person’s talking about tax legislation from 1987, but the other side is talking about foreign policy from that year, there may be no clash at all – the sides aren’t even debating a common topic. It’s all about 1987, but that’s so broad a subject there’s no clash, no point of dispute worth hearing.
Debate judges want to hear clash.
In political debates, it’s desirable, too: candidates who differ should engage each other on those differences.
Now go one step farther, and think about elections: it’s usually not enough simply to turn out one’s base – there will be some undecided voters and even opposing voters a candidate might win over.
The key to success may depend on going where those undecided and opposing voters are, and trying to persuade some of them.
If one finds those voters, one might have to brook a bit of clash – of a congenial discussion with a resident where there’s a difference over a topic.
Most campaigns need to go where there might be some clash in the discussion, and then handle that clash with sangfroid.
That’s why speaking to sympathetic gatherings of a few may be less valuable than speaking to large gatherings of the skeptical or opposed.
Wisconsin’s not been a state where residents have had much taste for clash as debating defines it. Today, there’s probably less clash, and more reliance on a sympathetic audience, than ever before.
That’s too bad: clash in debate sharpens, elevates, and so improves, our public life.