On Tuesday, Gainesville will get a glimpse of the increasingly popular God-concentrated argumentative cavalcade appearing in many of the auditoriums across the country and the world, the local showcase the Accent speaker’s bureau has dubbed The Great Religion Debate. These loosely related, independently organized events have made celebrities out of their dialectical pugilists, among them Richard Dawkins, William Lane Craig and Shmuley Boteach, although I must admit it seems the notoriety gained from these debates is severely biased toward the atheistic side of the podium. Is it infamy more than fame, the relative lameness of their theist counterparts or simply their writing of more entertaining books? I’m sure we’ll find out.
These debates have flourished with the ubiquity of YouTube, which has come to be the ideal venue for such forums, facilitating the endless commenting, bickering and trolling that would be deemed inconsiderate and, quite often, entirely offensive in the context of a public setting. This digital medium has been instrumental in the broadcasting of their dialogue-inducing objective to a wider audience than can be captured at any one given event, but what an online outlet cannot deliver is the actual people, the personalities themselves. We, however, get the opportunity to witness their metaphysical fervor firsthand, when the two most renowned contenders in these debates, Christopher Hitchens and Dinesh D’Souza, square off at the Phillips Center.
They’re scheduled to go the proverbial 12 rounds, folks, but you never know with a heavy hitter like Hitchens — referring to, of course, him hitting the sauce. Indeed, I’ll be deeply disappointed if he doesn’t rumble through the entire debate, scotch in hand, meandering from talking point to talking point, lambasting every spiritual institution along the way. Be prepared to witness D’Souza’s amazingly effective whining strategy, sneaking in a quick jab of a complaint about how he’s not getting a chance to speak whenever Hitch goes on one of his topical tirades. Yes, he’ll be channeling Milton from “Office Space” with his uh-excuse-me’s and half-hearted pleas for acknowledgment (yeah, he comes off as kind of a pussy), but eventually, these tactics will win the people over, though purely out of pity. Hitchens’ only option will be to counter with his snarky English wit, although he has to be careful not to utilize it too early, as it comes in handy when dodging the more involved aspects of D’Souza’s questions. Something to watch out for: D’Souza, ever the master technician, will suddenly go from garnering pity from the audience to making an emotional appeal to them. If he can pull it off, the crowd’s all his, and Hitchens will have to resort to chucking his by-then-emptied tumbler in D’Souza’s general direction, D’Souza will call him a souse and claim victory. Of course, this is all purely hypothetical.
If you’re in the mood to bring a flask, take a swig whenever Hitchens says, “some design,” (or anytime he takes a drink) or whenever D’Souza says, “if you would let me speak.” You’ll find yourself more trashed than Pope Benedict’s legacy. Or your NCAA brackets, whichever’s worse.
That said, I’m grabbing my A-Team cap and taking sides with my fellow hell-bound heathens in hoping Hitch can pull off a KO. By KO, do I mean a definitive resolution, an uncompromisingly authoritative assertion? No, because when it comes to such matters, people will deny the noses in front of their faces if it doesn’t fit in with their own contorted reality. So, who gets their hand raised after the final bell, then? Whoever looks the best doing it: style points, zazz, mojo — whatever you want to call it, that’s the deciding factor. But when it’s all said and done, one thing’s for certain: the matter will have progressed no further.
