Every time we went to a tournament together, we'd inevitably get food, I'd lean against his shoulder, and ask him what he thought of developments in international relations -- and would be entertained by extensive, detailed thoughts from military blogs I hadn't even thought to read. He'd tell Liz and I about the military strategy of Carl von Clausewitz; why helicopters don't work quite as well in mountainous regions; why El Salvador was unique in its mano dura-style policies working; and more.

He was there for us at tournaments when we needed help. One of my favorite memories is when he gave me his solitary Red Bull when I was exhausted and dehydrated on day 3 of Panama Worlds--and as soon as he made the final, I made sure to return the favor. I remember leaping and screaming with joy at the thought of our friend winning Worlds. I also remember all the times he took us in his car to anywhere we wanted to go, and all the times he swiped us into Dartmouth's dining hall if the tournament vegan option wasn't quite good enough. And wow, Liz, Ryan, and I have spent so many hours together on Zoom calls -- I can barely count them.

Last December, we hadn't talked in a few months -- but on my birthday, he quietly made a donation to the Humane League in my honor. I loved him as a friend, and whenever I told him (overly openly) that I loved him, he always told me he loved me too. I will always love him as a friend.

Ryan's attitude towards debate is one I yearn to apply to the rest of my life. He was a trailblazer through and through. He convinced me and countless others with his tireless work and never ending generosity that the brilliant cases he made could be made by us too. After watching his 32nd 6 hour long lecture, he earnestly made you believe that anything was possible if you work hard with a kind heart. He always spoke of the endless power debate had to shape discourse, the need to care about the positions we defended, and the importance of learning more, both for and independent of debate. No one has, or ever will, possess what made Ryan such a brilliant speaker.

Even with such insane debate skill, it's telling of how good a person he was that my most vivid memories of Ryan are always out of round. Messenger chats where we would make similar jokes as our friends groaned at us, conversations over bagels where he would practice his stand up career ("A pie costs 3 dollars in Cuba, 4 dollars in the Dominican Republic, and 2 dollars in Haiti. That's the pie rates of the Carribean!"), and the thousandth rant about an obscure recording from 2013. He was such a funny person. He was such a kind person. The world is a colder place without him.

I miss you Ryan. May your soul find the tranquility it deserves. Rest in peace goat.

I don't think Ryan ever knew who I was, but I wouldn't be where I am without his kindness. To this day, his "Debate File" is still my fourth Chrome bookmark.

Rest in peace, GOAT

The beautiful thing about leaving such a lasting legacy is that it carries on in the people they’ve influenced, in the small habits they’ve shaped and in the culture they’ve fostered. And Ryan didn’t just leave behind rounds and accolades, he changed the way I and so many others approach debate and growth.

I still remember my sophomore year hitting him at Nats. Walking into that round, I knew I was debating someone incredibly talented, but more than anything, I genuinely felt honored just to be there and to have the opportunity to learn so much from him. Ryan is a huge part of why I started to care more about growing in debate rather than just chasing wins. He made me want to understand the activity more deeply, to be more thoughtful, and to see the value in various types of debate. That shift in mindset has stayed with me ever since, and it’s something I carry into every round.

Sometimes in our pursuit of success in such a competitive activity, it’s easy to forget to be kind. Ryan was a reminder that kindness, respect, and a love for learning matter just as much, if not more. While our interactions were brief, the impact he had on me is something I’ll continue to carry with me, both in and out of debate.

Rest in peace Laffergoat 

We'll miss you a lot, buddy - there's no one else like you. I wish I'd gotten to tell you that one more time.

All I am trying to say is,

Thank You Ryan, we will miss you, we will remember you, and we will pour out a jar of melted peanut butter just for you 🙏🏼

I met Ryan when I was 15. In my eyes, he was the perfect person. He was a genius, endlessly witty, and constantly kind. I wanted to be just like him. Through a discord DM, I begged him to teach me to debate and somehow he agreed. I hoped, in enough time, maybe he’d want to become my friend too.

I’m not sure I can say he coached me given no matter how hard I tried (and trust me I tried) he wouldn’t take my money. But I can say, with enough practice rounds and some hand holding he taught me how to debate so that I could do a little better than 2-3 at NYPDL tournaments. The real win, though, was that somehow, Ryan agreed to be my friend. To this day, I have no idea what about my boy obsessing, reality TV watching, cookie baking teenage self made him decide he wanted to be my friend, but I am so grateful he did.

Ryan’s friendship has changed every aspect of who I am. He has taught me to be kind to others, to judge people less, to enjoy the process more. He has taught me to stand up for what I believe in and be a voice for those who can’t. Ryan believed in me more than I ever believed in myself.

While I would like to think that my friendship with Ryan was special, and in many ways it was, Ryan treated everyone with the same type of kindness he showed his closest friends. He believed that everyone had something special to offer the world. He wanted to learn what you cared about. He wanted to answer your questions. He was generous. He was approachable. And in every conversation, Ryan made sure we all saw the best versions of ourselves.

I sit here trying to process that Ryan is gone. That he will never hug me again. He won’t call me Soph. He won’t try to convince be JIF peanut butter is better than Skippy. He won’t help me reason through my relationships by comparing them to foreign conflicts. He won’t tell me he’s proud of me. He won’t be at my wedding. He won’t meet my kids. We won’t reminisce on our memories when we are old.

As I read through our thousands of texts and far too few pictures I feel so devastatingly alone. Five years was nowhere near long enough. I am not ready to say goodbye. But I take some solace in seeing messages like the ones on this padlet and knowing how much he impacted all of your lives. In knowing I will always be able to hear his voice and see his face, even if it’s forever frozen in his early 20s. In knowing that he will live on in his friends and family who he had such an impact on. While it is nowhere near enough, it makes this pain I feel maybe just a little bit lighter.

I love you so very much Ryan Michael Lafferty. I hope to see you in my dreams.

The first time I met Ryan at Westfield practice, he had the biggest, most genuine smile on his face and went out of his way to introduce himself to me when I truly didn’t know anyone. It didn’t take long for me to realize how special he was. He had a way of making me laugh no matter what, whether he was cracking a witty joke that he was constantly refining, or trying (and failing) to convince me that peanut butter was the best snack in the world. 

I have always looked up to Ryan immensely. I wanted so badly to learn even a fraction of what he knew, but more than that, I cherished every conversation we had. I always found myself wondering how someone so accomplished could also be so genuinely humble and kind, but that was just who Ryan was. He carried his brilliance so lightly, and made me feel so seen and valued. He was exceptional in every sense, and knowing him has made me a better person.

Ryan spent hours with me and my two teammates every single day for weeks leading up to the middle school debate championship. He did not have to take the time to coach three tiny middle schoolers who knew nothing, but he chose to anyway--which speaks tremendously to who he was. After I had taken a long break from debate, it was a conversation with Ryan that brought me back. He encouraged me to compete in a BP tournament during my senior year of high school, and his insight meant so much to me, reminding me why I fell in love with the activity in the first place. Ryan played such a big role in why I chose to join APDA as well. He believed in me in a way that helped me believe in myself. 

I will always be grateful to be part of a community that Ryan helped shape and gave so much of himself to. I miss you Ryan.

Ryan would never hesitate to share with me an interesting article he had found. My texts are full of ideas ranging from Putin’s fear of the Russia-Ukraine war ending because of veteran backlash to the resistance of linguistic feudalism in Africa. He loved debate, not because of the potential to win, but because of its ability to bring together arguments and ideas. He was the debater I knew who most viewed debate as an exercise to funnel those ideas into something meaningful. I always learned something from debating him, and that is a truly special trait. He had an unquenchable curiosity and a true generosity to share with others. 

Beyond his intellect (truly off the charts), he was a kind soul. After I didn’t break at Worlds this year, he came up to me and gave me the words of encouragement I needed in that moment. In a community that had frequently felt isolating, Ryan always treated me as if I belonged there. He took every loss and every win with grace (and he won damn near every time). In circuits that can so often run on negativity, he’s been nothing but kind to me. I always called him Laffergoat, and in return, he’d coined Na-a-a-a-a-a-z (to mimic the bleating of a goat). I could only hope to one day have an ounce of the talent in his pinky finger, but he always made me feel like he cared about what I had to say.

Ryan and I had a running joke at the start of this year that his sole purpose in going to tournaments was to OTY-block me (but he always told me not to worry, because he was supremely confident in me). I had promised him back in July that once TOTY was settled one way or another, I would love to go to a tournament with him, and one day after that did indeed happen, he was gone forever. A thousand regrets I have about not telling him how special he was, how much his words changed the way I thought about debate, or how I cherished each of our conversations, whether about Turkey/Kurdish international relations or the newest meme he’d created. I was lucky to meet him, and I will miss him dearly. 

When he later went on to win the competition, I remember thinking that Ryan was the perfect role model for this community: brilliant, but also unabashedly hardworking and kind. Reading through all these messages, it brings me some comfort to know I’m not alone in feeling that.

It feels so surreal writing this. My thoughts are with everyone who knew Ryan — his friends, loved ones, and all those whose lives were made better by his presence.

Rest in peace, Ryan. You are deeply missed.

Although we resided on opposite sides of APDA’s East Coast circuit, I met Ryan at quite a few tournaments (both in APDA and abroad doing BP) over the three-ish years we were on the league together. He was a towering community member and excellent debater. I think, with Ryan, the small moments became meaningful; a conversation or joke we shared stood out after every tournament.

The last time I spoke to Ryan was at Amherst ProAms this past February, where he shared my intense desire for coffee before quarterfinals. Fifteen minutes of frantic searching later, cracking jokes the entire time, we were left with no caffeine and rooms waiting because of our delay. I did not see him again after leaving for quarterfinals. Ryan turned these mundane tournament encounters into exchanges worth remembering through his relentless sense of humor and desire to genuinely engage with everyone. While abroad, he was the first friendly face I encountered and helped me tremendously, without me ever having to ask. I will miss him dearly.

Rest in peace, Ryan.

Whenever I returned to his work, I found myself captivated equally by his intellectual rigour and his extraordinary sense of humour. What moved me most was the realisation that behind all of it was a person who genuinely loved what he was doing, who took real pleasure in the craft of explanation and in making difficult ideas feel accessible and exciting.

His work had a quiet generosity to it. He gave freely of his knowledge and his time, inspiring debaters across the world who found their footing through his material and learned to think more clearly and argue more persuasively because of him. That is a remarkable thing to leave behind.

I consider myself fortunate to have spoken with him briefly at the Sofia Worlds this year. We had a warm conversation in which I was able to convey a small measure of my gratitude for everything his work had given me. I was struck by his humility and the genuine care with which he handled that exchange.

I find solace in the knowledge that what he created will outlast all of us. The ideas he spread through his writing and videos will live on to inspire many generations of debaters to come. I offer my sincerest condolences to his family and friends, and I hope with all my heart that he rests in peace.

I don't really know how to describe him, so I'll just tell a story about him and leave it to you to take from it what you will.

Dartmouth usudc was not a competition Ryan originally was sure about running. I believe he took some convincing that he could do it. But run it he did. And he did it so well. People know him as a brilliant and smart debater, which is true, but I know him as an energetic, selfless man.

After staying up till 5 am driving in the cold to Princeton whose van had broken down and driving them back, one would forgive him for being a little tired. But he remained ever cheerful with his jokes the next day, his face red with exertion as he ran everywhere, talking, helping some young novice out, driving people up and down, running running, always running.

On Saturday night, several of us went to dinner at Applebee's. He was requested to talk about his opinions on some IR topic. Bot did he deliver. He enthusiastically spoke for hours about how hiroshima and Nagasaki went and what all little, crazy and silly facts he knew about military history at the time. How the Japanese ambassador cried when the Soviet union made their declaration of war, or how depressed Stalin was when he first heard the bomb dropped. And I remember thinking, as I ate my caramel apple pie, that this feels like the best part of life.

I never told him, but whenever I went to debate competitions from then on, it was rarely with the goal of doing well competitively. I just wanted to see my friends.

What a crazy, wonderful man he is. Or was, I suppose. I wish I could've told him that one last time.

Take care Ryan. I don't even know how to miss you, but I'll try

rest in peace <3

In a space (Westfield) where those who had done well had been debating for decades, Ryan was one of those individuals who felt so similar to me - two kids who wanted to just be good at an activity that they had just started. And man, did Ryan just run with it. From coast to coast, Ryan's dedication to the activity shone from day one. He was one of the youngest in our cohort, but he really took on every debate activity with such gusto and such care. He coached the middle schoolers, no matter the skill, with such precision and care, taking every question with such earnest attention and value. Nothing and nobody was too small for Ryan.

But he was also a place of solace - to come to after rounds or after a bad day in school and just complain. A place where judgment felt unnecessary - where we could chat over some whole grain goldfish and just ride the struggle that was high school. I find myself remembering those moments more, the ones where we huddled in the corners of the room trying to talk without getting in trouble. The moments of talking about our students - discussing our different training lessons while also trying to find time to get better ourselves. It translated into quiet car rides to and from tournaments, the classic angry rants post rounds, but also the random moments as we got older, where debate felt like our place to shine.

Ryan's impact in college is one that is so well known - and filled me with honor to have always been able to say "I knew him when he started". Success is one of those immeasurable activities that are dotted with awards and recognition to help try to chart a path. And man, oh man, did he succeed.

But for me, Ryan's impact strikes the most at the heart of 14-year-old me, uncertain of who I was and what speaking meant to me. He was pivotal in my finding a place and the person I am today.

Digging through my camera roll for these photos was a striking walk down memory lane - one that surely is filled with a little bit of cringe and absolute sadness that I didn't get more.

But it also reminds me of the ways he intertwined in my life - and the pieces I will always carry.

I can't find a way to end this post - ending it feels a bit too surreal. So to this, I'll say thank you, Ryan. Thank you for everything you've done and the ways you have touched my life. I miss you, and I aim to be a shadow of the person you were.

I wasn't a close personal friend of Ryan’s, but every interaction I had with him was a positive one. We judged at several tournaments together earlier this year, and he was easily one of the most helpful and welcoming people I’ve met at debate tournaments. Despite the fact that I didn't have an extensive debate resume and I'm not from a super competitive school, he treated me with complete respect, listened to my thoughts, and was always so open to sharing his insights with debaters for nothing in return.

Ryan cared deeply about making the debate community a better, more inclusive space. He gave so much of his time and energy to others, fueled by his own goodwill and a sincere desire to help people grow. Countless debaters have been helped by the resources he helped create. He was a remarkable, talented debater, but an even better person. I will miss him, and I know many others in the debating community will also miss him dearly.

there was so much of his presence i took for granted, and i never anticipated that in the 3 year overlap we would have debating at the collegiate level, he would never get a chance to see it through. i assumed that there would always be another chat, or a round, or a debrief, or a hybrid request lingering in the future. i regret not telling him more frequently how much i appreciated him. i regret small moments of thoughtless indulging in the competitiveness of this circuit without remembering to put kindness and respect first. to honor what he tried so hard to do for debaters every day, i'll carry that example with me for the rest of my debating career, and probably for the rest of my life.

There isn't really much more I can say at this time about Ryan. The enormity of his influence on this community cannot be reasonably assessed or summarized in any number of paragraphs (and there are people who knew him far better who can speak far better to that). I'll just leave here one small speck of a memory that I will never forget:

Before APDA Nationals last year I formally met Ryan after he agreed to do a couple practice rounds against me (largely due to the fact that our partners, Joann and Maeve, were best friends from high school and coordinated these rounds). I had a great time debating against him in those rounds. Getting to hear him come up with Opps to my cases was a privilege. Ryan was, of course, a titan of the debate world who was expected to break at the tournament. I was still making a name for myself on APDA and did not have high hopes. We both had novice partners.

When Nats came around, Ryan and Maeve lost their first two rounds and had to battle back through the silent rounds to have any shot at breaking. Joann and I also found ourselves on the bubble. At the banquet, right after it was announced that both of our teams had, indeed, managed to get into the break, Ryan came up to me with a huge grin on his face. He vigorously shook my hand, said words of congratulations, and then said "I guess we didn't let Joann and Maeve down." The joy and relief in his voice was so palpable. I will never forget his happiness for me, essentially a complete stranger to him, and his gratefulness that he had not let his partner down. I truly felt in that moment, seeing his face and hearing his voice, that he wanted nothing more than to be the debater everyone thought he was. Not for himself, but for those around him, for all the people he educated and partnered with, who viewed him as something of a debate superhero, because that's what he was. To mix metaphors, it was easy for me to internally view Ryan as a larger than life God of debating compared to mere mortals like myself. In that moment I realized how silly that truly was. He was just a college kid in his early twenties trying his best to engage in the things he was passionate about. In the past few days I have often wondered if we all put too much pressure on him. I hope he knows that he exceeded even our wildest expectations for what one could achieve, not just as a competitor, but as a member of this community. The fact that the reigning world champ took the time to seek me out, a guy he barely knew, to shake my hand and tell me how happy for me and my partner he was is something that will stick with me forever.

He went on to win the whole tournament in stunning fashion, but I'll always remember that moment more than anything else. I'll remember his glowing face, the joyful relief in his voice, and his genuine happiness for those around him more than any argument I ever saw him deliver. RIP.

What struck me from that first time– and it was reaffirmed each and every time I debated him afterwards– was how honestly and charitably he engaged with the ideas of the round. He could bring levity when it was merited, but he also possessed a unique ability to bring the moral weight of the topic into the debate. His PMR in Harvard semifinals, advocating for a peace deal in Ukraine, effortlessly combined the artistry and craftsmanship of rhetoric and technical skill with a genuine concern for the human lives at stake in frozen fields and besieged cities that were physically and emotionally far, far outside the classroom to that point. It is to this day one of the best speeches I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching. I am glad that I at least got the chance to convey my deep admiration for his style. 

And while I do not personally believe that our in-round comportment predicts much about personality, it soon became obvious that Ryan was an exception. His curiosity extended far beyond the confines of the debate round, as did his generosity of spirit. I didn’t speak to Ryan as much as I would’ve liked to, but he never had a bad word to say about anyone, and he had plenty of good ones. He seemed to naturally see the best in people, or at the very least dwell there instead of in the incessant observations of flaw and peccadillo that make up so much of social conversation. It felt like he hovered above all of that. 

I still remember Ryan sending me a message after my junior year Nats ended in disappointment. I can find my reply to it, but not what he initially sent. From what I recall, they were some of the kindest words I had received in this activity, all the more so because they came from someone with whom I had only a friendly acquaintance. I very much wanted to become friends with Ryan. I will regret not having done so forever. 

This is a profound loss for our community and for the world. Ryan was one of the most intelligent and hardworking people I’ve ever met, and there are surely many people whose lives have been made poorer by never getting a chance to meet him. I hope his friends and loved ones can find some measure of peace and comfort in how much he mattered to so many and the immense legacy he left. And I myself will endeavor to learn from the person he was and the example he set.

The news of his passing came as a shock to me because of that. Ryan contributed so much to the community, not just in the States, but across the world. Reading other memorials, it’s comforting to see that many others share similar sentiments.

I didn’t know his whole story, and I don’t need to. Because what matters was that he was smart, hardworking, and dedicated that’s already more than enough. There was something special in that, especially in how he chose to pay it forward by sharing such broad insights with people halfway across the world, people who wouldn’t directly benefit him in any way.

Ryan served his role well, not just as a great debater, but as a person who became a notable inspirational intellectual nodes for many. He worked very, very hard, and it showed.

Rest easy now, Ryan 🪽

You don’t have to think or figure anything out anymore.

You’ve done more than enough ✨

Ryan has been the ultimate role model for me since the very first time I saw him outside a round over a zoom screen years ago. He joked with me, made me feel heard, and asked me about what I cared about. He is one of the few people I have met who listened not to show that he was listening, but because he truly cared. 

Ryan showed me what selflessness looks like. He would help others with their calculus homework. He would sit on a zoom call talking to me about life when he certainly had better things to do. He believed in me when nobody else did. He supported me when things were tough and not only when they were good. He showed me how to engage in a competitive community with the utmost humility and grace. Everything I do in the way I approach this space is inspired by Ryan. I hope one day to be even half the member of this community that he was.

It is almost unfathomable to me that I will never hear Ryan’s enthusiasm about the world again. I will never be able to reminisce about the time we GOVed "THW not apply to Harvard” when I was high school. I will never be able to talk with him about our thoughts on burgers or peanut butter. I am not ready or prepared to know what a world without Ryan is, but I know he will live with me and so many others. 

Ryan—thank you for everything. You mean more to me than you knew. You will always inspire me to be the vest version of myself. Thank you to everything you gave to me, this community, and everyone you interacted with. You will be dearly missed!

When I moved to Dartmouth for grad school, I became lucky enough to call Ryan a friend. We organized Dartmouth’s first in-person tournament in 5 years together, and he bore the brunt of the logistical work, and slept very little for a full weekend. A day after the tournament, I saw him asleep on the bench outside Summit while waiting for the bus to campus. Almost precisely an year ago to today, we both spent 20 hours in a car together: we were the only two people from Dartmouth attending the HWS RR and Princeton. I remember thinking that this was too long to spend with anyone, particularly someone I didn’t know too well. Despite this, we spoke almost non-stop for the entire 20 hours. We discussed nuclear weapons, just war theory, and a podcast episode by Sarah Paine on World War 2 history. We spent a long time describing (and bragging) about the achievements of the debate kids we’d coached: he used to coach Team Mexico WSDC. He knew a lot more about these topics than I did, and yet he spoke to me as an equal, and patiently answered every objection I had to his takes. 

I’ll miss seeing Ryan walk around campus and smile, or joke about not needing a jacket, or taking wonderful care of everyone on the Dartmouth team at tournaments or practices or in life. I’ll miss his analyses of world events in the groupchats. I wish I didn’t have to write this, or could write something better without bursting into tears.

I never had the privilege of becoming close with Ryan. But despite not having a substantial personal relationship, he nourished every interaction we had with overflowing intellectual and emotional energy. I messaged him once about his approach to matter filing (pre the release of the Lafferty Tome) and received six paragraphs to a one-line inquiry. To Ryan, there was no question or argument that did not merit a response of epic proportions. I remember him as someone who did not care about your record, your status, or how well he know you. If you had a question, he would respond and you would build something together. No discussion was beneath him.

I'll always remember one detail he emphasized in his philosophy on matterfiling on social movements: the importance of reading the missives of leaders of those movements themselves. It's a minor detail from a complete life filled with so much joy, care, and accomplishment, but I recall it now as something marked with much greater import. Never before that time had I heard anyone — even the exemplary titans of debate so many tried to emulate — underscore the importance of studying the perspectives of real-world people enmeshed the issues we discussed. Ryan wasn't just a great debater because he understood the socioeconomic and religious dynamics at play in Iran in 2022, he read op-eds and pamphlets from leaders of the Woman, Life, Freedom protests. He certainly wasn't the only one to take this approach, and there are far more debaters doing this now, but it was novel and explosive when he first described it.

Ryan was so impressive in large part of his drive to listen, to understand, to engage with, and distill countless perspectives on the world. This included the support he provided to his closest his friends, the unsolicited queries he received from near-strangers, and the words of those half a world away from him. His loss opened an immense hole in this community and the world. I am so grateful for the time I got to spend with him and for any parts of him I will be lucky enough to carry with me. Ryan reshaped debate in countless positive ways, and I have no doubt that the brilliant compassion he emanated continues to shine today.

When I met him, Ryan was a junior in high school and probably the most successful high school parliamentary debater in the country. Everyone at Westfield had our own perverse reasons for wanting to be like Ryan: some just wanted to win, some wanted the clout from being successful, some thought it would look good on our college applications. Unlike the rest of us, Ryan didn’t debate for those perverse reasons. Instead, he debated because he thought there was real value in the discourse debate created.

I was lucky enough to be on the receiving end of Ryan’s endless generosity: hours of discord calls, his lengthy feedback on practice rounds, and seemingly endless matter files. Later, I was luckier still to get to know him personally. In every interaction, it was clear Ryan was incomparably intelligent, but he was humble in a way that made it impossible to feel dumb around him. He would, in ways that no rational self-interested person would, massively inconvenience himself to provide small amounts of help to others. I remember initially thinking his altruism had to be performative, but I eventually realized that was somehow who Ryan actually was.

I was never optimistic enough to find the genuine joy and meaning in debate that Ryan did. I remember watching Tin Puljic debate live at WUDC 2021 with Ryan and seeing his genuine excitement at the quality and thought-provoking nature of the arguments made in the rounds. At the time, I thought his genuine interest was silly.

Midway through my junior year of high school, I quit debate to focus on my mental health. Ryan repeatedly reached out to check on me and offer help. Even so, as I grew more and more disconnected from debate, I lost touch with Ryan. I didn't seriously debate again for almost three years. By that time, Ryan had already made finals of NAUDC, top-spoke Northams, and was #1 on the SOTY board. More impressive than any of his competitive success was the fact that almost everyone I spoke to had their own story about being on the receiving end of his kindness. Countless others, like me, also had the trajectory of their lives and the way they think about the world altered by him. 

The world and our community is far worse off without Ryan. I hope, wherever he is, he knows how many of our lives he changed for the better.

Rest in Peace Ryan Lafferty

The first time I ever got to meet Ryan substantively was when he and Maeve retired me at NYU Nationals last year. That round will always have a special place in my heart, in no small part because of Ryan.

When Shenan and I learned that we were about to fold into Ryan and Maeve, we knew it meant we were about to debate our last round together. Given that, we decided to run something fun. I was slightly concerned that Ryan would find our case about an entirely unworkable made-up sport to be a complete insult to his intelligence, which tells you how little I knew about his personality at the time.

Within a few minutes of POCs it became quite clear that he planned to take the case entirely seriously. Yet, at the same time, he managed to deliver some of the funniest speeches I've ever heard. He started both PM speeches with a rhyme-scheme-compliant overview. After the round, he confessed that both were made up on the fly. I've never had so much fun losing so, so brutally. I will forever regret not expressing to him how much that round continues to mean to me.

Ryan was a remarkable reminder of how powerful the simple act of earnest engagement can be (both in debate and beyond). Like so many others, I'm both incredibly grateful to have known him and devastated that we all couldn't have more time with him. May he rest in peace.

I wish I had the opportunity to get to know Ryan better. He was an incredibly special person, and I have so much admiration and respect for him. In the future, when I think back on my time debating, I know I will keep coming back to that round, which, to me, represents everything debate should be. In that way, his memory is a blessing to me.

Ryan was of course extremely talented, but he was also an incredible mentor to novices and younger debaters. After the times when we debated, he was generous with his time and advice. He always spoke with kindness and never in a way that made me feel stupid. Ryan put so much time into our community and left behind so many incredible resources for younger and future debaters. I hope by watching his lectures and engaging with what he left behind, we can keep his memory alive.

Ryan really was a pillar of the college debate community, and we will all miss him.

PS I don't think he has updated this blog for at least a couple of years. It's a relic of the covid debating days. He has some fun articles and tons of motions he wrote himself. Please check it out, "We Concede"

After we hit (and he would go on to win APDA nationals in what I would argue is the greatest come from behind in a single tournament ever), I quickly became familiar with Ryan’s accomplishments in debate and found his shared resources including online lectures, his publicly available matter file, and suggested reading list. Over the period of the next summer and season, I used these resources to help achieve my greatest improvement to date and share with my team, which was actively reemerging in the APDA circuit at the time. The resources he provided to the debate community for free are truly remarkable and incredibly detailed, we are fortunate to have them.

Ryan’s love of learning, kindness, and brilliance reminded me of why I stuck with debate. He was truly one of the greatest role models the activity could have and I miss him deeply.

Rest in peace Ryan

It’s no coincidence that 3 years, upon my own graduation, freshly off of moving to the UK and attending my first in-person BP competition but who else do I see, but Ryan, sitting at his laptop getting god knows what work done at 6:30 in the morning. In a strange country, full of strange people, Ryan gave me a hug and said, “you’re going to love it here” and a year and a half later I still haven’t looked back. While he may no longer be with us, I truly hope we all hold him together in our hearts, and not just Panama Champion, APDA whatever OTY thing Ryan Lafferty, but the Ryan Lafferty that made each and every one of us feel valuable in our own way. Thank you Ryan, may you rest in peace.

Ryan and I went to middle school and high school together. Some of my first memories with him are from riding the bus together in eighth grade, where we first became friends through our conversations over the NFL and NBA. Every Monday, we would talk about the weekend’s games, and over time that friendship grew into discussions about our other interests, like history and government. Even at a young age, Ryan was incredibly approachable, friendly, and caring. He had a natural way of making people feel comfortable and included.

It was Ryan who inspired me, during my freshman year of high school, to join the debate team at Westfield. I will always be grateful to him for giving me that. It was clear that Ryan was someone who always wanted the best for others and was always looking out for those around him.

Ryan, of course, was incredible at debate. Anyone who listened to his speeches could recognize that immediately. His preparation, work ethic, and drive to acquire information were unmatched in so many ways. But what stood out most was that Ryan’s thirst for learning was never just for himself. He saw learning and knowledge as things to be shared. Even in high school, he was always focused on mentoring others and lifting people up, no matter their skill level. When mentoring others in debate, he treated every comment and every question as meaningful. He responded with respect for your perspective, and that made it so easy to feel welcomed and comfortable around him.

I was lucky to know Ryan outside of debate. We took many classes together in high school, and it was obvious that his love of learning extended beyond any single activity. Even in science classes, he was always eager to learn and just as eager to help others learn too. I remember when we took AP Chemistry together during junior year, he made hour-long lecture videos and practice tests for the class to help us prepare for exams. Ryan loved to teach and loved to share what he had learned. He was always in service of others, always trying to make sure that everyone could succeed alongside him.

Beyond the classroom, Ryan was also a very talented saxophone and clarinet player, and we were in band together. I have so many memories of us waiting before concerts, joking around, making memes, and laughing. Ryan had such an infectious sense of humor, and he always knew how to put a smile on your face. Those are memories I will always cherish.

Although my own debate journey ended in high school, it was such a joy to watch Ryan’s success from afar. I loved watching the lectures he posted, and it made me so happy to see the impact he was having —not just on people like me who knew him growing up, but on people across the world and throughout the debate community.

The last time I spoke with Ryan was this past June, at his sister’s and my brother’s high school graduation. We caught up on our experiences college, our future goals, and the hopes we had for what lay ahead. It is absolutely tragic that things will not unfold in the way we had hoped, but I feel so blessed to have known Ryan and to have been touched by his presence. I am grateful for the impact he had on my life and on the lives of so many others. His loss is heartbreaking, and his kindness, generosity, and spirit are something I will try to carry forward.

Thank you for everything Ryan, I will miss you dearly.