Equal match-ups

15 Aug 2022

A recent YouTube rabbit hole took me to watching the Senate confirmation hearings of the recent US Supreme Court Justices. Our politically divisive climate today has led these hearings to be mostly a circus where senators from the opposition party try to tear down or otherwise discredit the qualifications of judges nominated by the sitting President.

One exchange in particular, between then Senator Kamala Harris (D) and Amy Coney Barrett, stood out to me. You can watch the full clip here, but it went something like this:

KH: “Do you accept that COVID-19 is infectious?”

ACB: “Yes, COVID-19 is infectious. […] That’s an obvious fact.”

KH: “Do you accept that smoking causes cancer?”

ACB: “I’m not sure exactly where you’re going with this, but, Senator Harris—every package of cigarette warns that smoking causes cancer.”

KH: “And do you believe that climate change is happening and is threatening the air we breathe and the water we drink?”

ACB: “Senator, again, I was wondering where you were going with that. You have asked me a series of questions that are completely uncontroversial, like whether COVID-19 is infectious, whether smoking causes cancer, and trying to analogise that to eliciting an opinion from me that is on a very contentious matter of public debate. I will not do that. I will not express a view on a matter of public policy, especially one that is politically controversial, because that’s inconsistent with the judicial role, as I have explained…”

Harris then cuts off Barrett and moves on to her next line of questioning.

From a quick glance of the comment section of the video, I’m not alone in finding this brief moment intriguing. I think the intrigue lies in how it perfectly captures two people who are at the top of their games, who can see through exactly what the other person is trying to do.

In this case, Harris, a former California DA (think Chuck Rhoades, Jr. if you’ve ever watched the show Billions) and Attorney General, employs a tried-and-true lawyer tactic called the "yes roll", or “momentum theory” of witness examination. By structuring her questions with ones that can easily be answered in the affirmative up front, she leads the person being questioned to answer “yes” to the final, main question. This strategy establishes a pattern of agreement from the “witness” (in this case Barrett), making it psychologically more difficult for them to suddenly disagree with the questioner when the critical question is posed.

Barrett, an equally experienced legal practitioner (attorney turned judge & law professor), was not going to fall for that trap. If I were in her position, I would’ve likely answered “yes” to COVID-19, “yes” to smoking, then “yes” to climate change and not thought anything of it. She instead was able to catch, in real time, that Harris’ final question was categorically different from the first two and explain why she should not weigh in on the issue as a Supreme Court nominee.¹

Barrett was also quick to point out the rhetorical nature of the senator’s questions. Where I would’ve simply answered: “Yes, I accept smoking causes cancer,” she said: “Every package of cigarette warns that smoking causes cancer.” This serves her much better because it a) replaces a personal judgement with an indisputable fact and b) gets the audience on her side, probing Harris’ intention behind such irrelevant questions.

It’s sheer brilliance.

I’m impressed by this level of mastery of one’s craft, regardless of the discipline. Analysing the exchange between Barrett and Harris was like watching Daniel Negreanu make a read, Federer explain something to the referee, or LeBron James recalling a sequence play-by-play.

More than that, I think this reveals something universal about what draws human attention like a magnet. It doesn’t matter if it’s sports, art, business, or something as watching-paint-dry boring as a Senate hearing—People love seeing a clash between two equally matched, world-class performers in their fields. It’s a format that seems to work every time, perhaps second only to the classic “David vs. Goliath” storyline.

One might find this observation entertaining, but inconsequential. I, on the other hand, wonder what our penchant for equal match-ups might teach us about ourselves.