Save this storySave this storySave this storySave this story
A few weeks ago, a snippet of a YouTube video titled “1 Progressive vs. 20 Far-Right Conservatives” began circulating on social media. In the clip, British-American journalist Mehdi Hasan debates an open-eyed, snarling man named Connor in what appears to be a windowless warehouse. A crowd has gathered around them, holding bright red flags. Hasan asks Connor if he believes in democracy. No, Connor replies—he prefers autocracy, considers himself a fascist, admires General Francisco Franco, and believes that free speech should be abolished in the wake of the creation of a Catholic nationalist ethno-state. “Frankly, I don’t care what they call me, even if it’s a Nazi,” he says. After a brief exchange, Hasan, usually a tireless debater, looks at Connor incredulously and says, “I don’t argue with fascists.” The problem is that he finds himself surrounded by these people, each of whom is waiting for their chance to go viral.
Lede
Reports and commentary on what you need to know today.
This video is part of the “Surrounded” debate series on YouTube, produced by the entertainment company Jubilee Media. The premise of the show is simple: a group of laypeople with shared ideological views take turns debating a prominent public figure on a topic of discussion. You might find Candace Owens, a right-wing commentator railing against feminism (“1 conservative vs. 20 feminists”); Jordan Peterson, a conservative scholar debating culture with atheists (“Jordan Peterson vs. 20 atheists”); or Sam Seder, host of the left-wing internet radio show The Majority Report, criticizing everything to do with Donald Trump (“20 Trump supporters vs. 1 progressive”). The debate is divided into four twenty-minute rounds, each focusing on a specific claim made by the moderator, such as “Donald Trump is a racist,” “No career will bring women as much joy and fulfillment as raising children,” or “College is a scam.” To challenge the moderator’s claim, panelists race to the center of the room and play “musical chairs”: whoever gets to a chair first can stay until the end of the round or until a majority of participants evict them by raising red flags.
The Surrounded videos are a fascinating and disconcerting spectacle, as tedious as they are entertaining. The contestants who perform best seem to know the rules of interscholastic debate, spewing statistics and logic problems with the zeal of impromptu champions. To win an argument in such a short time frame, debaters strive to respond to their opponent’s claim as quickly and forcefully as possible, treating their few minutes of airtime as a game of dominance rather than a path to truth or understanding. The goal is not to inform or educate, to listen or comprehend, to construct or intellectualize, but to prevail, to seize the initiative, to strike, to break the other person’s arguments, to create a claim of such overwhelming persuasiveness that the matter can be considered closed once and for all. Wave the flag, bide your time, and then move on.
Not surprisingly, the public figures who participate in Entourage often triumph over their opponents with ease. Ben Shapiro, Pete Buttedzieg, Michael Knowles, Alex O’Connor—these are professional debaters, able to outwit and convince almost any viewer unfamiliar with traditional debate techniques, no matter the topic or claim at stake. In the first episode of the series, which has now racked up more than thirty million views on YouTube, right-wing activist Charlie Kirk defended the illegality of abortion against a shifting group of “liberal college students,” some of whom couldn’t hide their disgust with Kirk’s position. “I hope your daughter lives a very happy life and runs away from you,” says a young woman as the round’s time runs out. In another episode, featuring a livestreamer named Destiny, a woman in a MAGA hat tries to regain control of an argument she had long since lost. “It's like you're attacking me because I'm a woman,” she says suddenly. Kirk and Destiny revel in this hyper-emotional reaction; by appealing to anything other than cold, inductive reasoning, the opponents are effectively admitting defeat. It's like checkmate.
The show is most effective when the contestants are evenly matched, with each side understanding the proper rules of engagement. To achieve this, Jubilee pairs its audience with content creators eager to use the channel’s platform to grow their popularity. In many of the videos pitting liberals against conservatives, Gen Zers Dean Withers, Naima Troutt, and ParkerGataJob, as he’s known online, disguise themselves as regular people, waiting their turn to eviscerate their opponent, which they often do with spectacular effect. Withers has become an incredibly popular debate streamer, with four million subscribers on
Sourse: newyorker.com
