Rebecca Traister's article in Salon is a welcome wake-up call for some of us who have let empathy cloud our judgment of Sarah Palin, but Traister makes a mistake when she links pity to misogyny.
The Professor is of the lady-persuasion and I've watched the melodrama of Sarah Palin with the rapt attention of any good soap-opera fan (my daytime distraction of choice used to be Days of Our Lives, though these days I am more prone to primetime fare). Her nomination spurred me to make my first campaign contribution, an act motivated by equal parts fear and loathing. But I don't know if anyone has properly understood how high the bar was set for her from the beginning. The blindness of the GOP's flailing choice of a woman, any woman was caused by their inability to appreciate Hillary Clinton as both a woman and an excellent politician. Likewise, Nancy Pelosi isn't some demographically-approved stand in, she's an incredibly savvy congresswoman who was able to keep discipline in the face of a massively unpopular bill (while her counterpart John Boehner fell apart). Most politicians would pale in comparison to the two most prominent women in the legislature. The shockingly out of her league Palin, in comparison, never had a chance to be seen as a peer of either woman. She has illustrated that being a woman is not enough to deserve another woman's support (it may even be necessary, but still not sufficient), and that we must give credit and appreciation only where they are due.
But here's the thing about tragic pity, at least in the Greek sense: the audience is never confused about whether or not the protagonist deserves their comeuppance. The tragic figure always deserves the consequences, even when the payback is huge and the mistakes are small and animated by good intention. Intention was irrelevant. The Greeks were tough people when it came to moral and ethical failings; the small flaws of a great person became the seeds for catastrophic failure (and before questioning whether or not Palin is a great person, I should clarify that this in the Greek sense simply means high-profile or well-known insofar as fame was considered an indication of the magnitude of one's acts).
Because we are human beings, who feel empathy for even those with whose actions we disagree, we see ourselves reflected back in the tragic figure and a great sadness wells up.* Do I know what the Bush Doctrine is? Yes, thanks to my particular flavor of wonkitude. But could I imagine situations in which I had followed my own ambition far beyond my capabilities? Absolutely. The Palin disaster has reached the status of epic political cautionary tales--but cautionary tales only work because we can imagine ourselves in the shoes of the person in the example and wish to avoid a similar outcome.
This is all to say that there's nothing wrong with feeling pity for Sarah Palin. She is astoundingly foolish, she plays to the cultural divisions which weaken the country, she's a petty ideologue, but she was also a pawn in misogynistic GOP machinations, the failing of which will destroy her political career and mark her as an incompetent fool for the rest of her life. The odds are she will be the butt of a national joke perhaps even beyond her lifetime. I could not wish such a thing on my worst enemy, and in smaller part, there by the grace of god go I.
* A lover of Aristotle's Poetics would object that we do not feel pity when bad things happen to bad people, but I would not be quick to label Palin as a bad person. There isn't enough evidence to make such a strong claim as to her nature (or at least I would feel uncomfortable making such a determination--I am a Democrat precisely because I don't believe we live in a Manichean world). I would say petty and intensely foolish.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
"Dumb" emotion
Perhaps I'm just nettled by "professorial" being used as an epithet regarding Obama, but I am sick and tired of "information saturated" media commentators being so dumb about emotion.
Emotional appeals are not limited to bombast and bluster. Emotion as a concept is complex and contextual. The performance of cool reason and of measured response speaks to character and judgment, but it also elicits an emotional response. The classic Greek triad of ethos (character), pathos (emotion) and logos (reason) are profoundly intertwined, not isolated and mutually exclusive. The question is not emotion yes or no, it's emotional how? Is it appropriate?
This mistake can be well illustrated by the events of the past two weeks. John McCain's anger in response to the financial crisis hasn't worked--not in the past two weeks, where the polls have done nearly a 180 and not in the debates where the supposedly cold Obama connected MORE with undecided voters.
I think this can be accounted for when we take context into consideration. The financial crisis has created an atmosphere of anxiety, and anxiety cannot be eased with threats and hyperventillation. It is calmed with calm.
Here's a simple example. When, as a child, you woke up from a nightmare, you ran to your parents for comfort. Imagine if they had responded with a vow to hunt down the monsters and kill them. This wouldn't make you feel better--it would only confirm your fears. Instead, your parents were steady, quiet, warm and reassuring. They responded to your fears and gave you hope and a feeling of control when you were a tiny person in a mysterious world.
This is why the professorial Obama has soared in the measure of whether or not he shares voters values. In a national security debate, perhaps saber-rattling is reassuring, but in times of economic crisis, where the enemy cannot be externalized or isolated, we look for someone with wisdom and a steady hand. This isn't just a love of reason for reason's sake. It is visceral, real emotion.
Nate Silver does a great job with projections, be it in baseball or politics, because he has an uncanny sense of how to put raw data into nuanced context. This is what our commentary class needs to do. Rather than apply the generic script that opposes professorialism with emotion (one created in the Bush-Gore contest in 2000) they need a sharper interpretive tool. They need to make sense with a scalpel and not an ax. They need to realize that there is nothing dumb about "dumb emotion."
Emotional appeals are not limited to bombast and bluster. Emotion as a concept is complex and contextual. The performance of cool reason and of measured response speaks to character and judgment, but it also elicits an emotional response. The classic Greek triad of ethos (character), pathos (emotion) and logos (reason) are profoundly intertwined, not isolated and mutually exclusive. The question is not emotion yes or no, it's emotional how? Is it appropriate?
This mistake can be well illustrated by the events of the past two weeks. John McCain's anger in response to the financial crisis hasn't worked--not in the past two weeks, where the polls have done nearly a 180 and not in the debates where the supposedly cold Obama connected MORE with undecided voters.
I think this can be accounted for when we take context into consideration. The financial crisis has created an atmosphere of anxiety, and anxiety cannot be eased with threats and hyperventillation. It is calmed with calm.
Here's a simple example. When, as a child, you woke up from a nightmare, you ran to your parents for comfort. Imagine if they had responded with a vow to hunt down the monsters and kill them. This wouldn't make you feel better--it would only confirm your fears. Instead, your parents were steady, quiet, warm and reassuring. They responded to your fears and gave you hope and a feeling of control when you were a tiny person in a mysterious world.
This is why the professorial Obama has soared in the measure of whether or not he shares voters values. In a national security debate, perhaps saber-rattling is reassuring, but in times of economic crisis, where the enemy cannot be externalized or isolated, we look for someone with wisdom and a steady hand. This isn't just a love of reason for reason's sake. It is visceral, real emotion.
Nate Silver does a great job with projections, be it in baseball or politics, because he has an uncanny sense of how to put raw data into nuanced context. This is what our commentary class needs to do. Rather than apply the generic script that opposes professorialism with emotion (one created in the Bush-Gore contest in 2000) they need a sharper interpretive tool. They need to make sense with a scalpel and not an ax. They need to realize that there is nothing dumb about "dumb emotion."
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Quick thought
So, this is a story my old debate coach and professor used to tell:
When Davy Crockett was running for Congress, he had two strategies in these barnstorming debate circuits through the hinterlands. If he had to go first, Crockett would recite the speech of his opponent. If he were second, Crockett would announce FREE BEER!
Makes me wish that McCain brought free beer.
When Davy Crockett was running for Congress, he had two strategies in these barnstorming debate circuits through the hinterlands. If he had to go first, Crockett would recite the speech of his opponent. If he were second, Crockett would announce FREE BEER!
Makes me wish that McCain brought free beer.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Capturing the event: the opportune moment and appropriate word
So, the Obama campaign has responded to the economic crisis with a 2 minute commercial outlining his economic proposals to reform the banking industry while throwing a lifesaver to the middle class.
I think it's a great move--define the event and set the parameters for an appropriate response. It works by using two foundational and ancient rhetorical concepts.
The first is kairos, or the opportune moment for speech. The kairotic moment may either be a response to an exigent situation or it may be constituted through effective speech. I think the economic ad is more in line with the latter than the former; while the immediate event is the Lehman Brothers collapse and AIG bailout, the spot makes these individual events part of a broader thrust of history--a crisis point brought on by irresponsible policy.
The ad does not simply define the moment, it also outlines what sort of response is "called for" by the event. In this case, the Obama campaign suggests that sober and cooperative action rather than divisive speechifying is the proper response to such a far reaching crisis. This is the second rhetorical concept, to prepon or in Latin decorum, both meaning appropriateness. Speech which goes beyond the appropriate cannot persuade, though speech that persuades may constitute what is appropriate.
What?!
If a response garners support from the audience, it builds a new sense of what speech can or should do. The "unprecedented event" that is the kairotic moment calls for speech that gives us guidelines in an uncertain world. It gives us the tools to negotiate contingency. The kairotic moment makes possible certain actions or proposals that might otherwise have seemed out of reach.
A concrete example from the spot may help. In an election year, voters are accustomed to being pandered to. We are the best nation in the world, we are smart and capable people, we deserve a candidate who will wine and dine us and make us feel special! We're also used to the politics of division and fear in order to draw stark lines between candidates.
Now, both of these tend to favor Republicans (or at least incumbents). What the new two minute spot does is argue that this moment in history calls for bipartisan discourse and cooperation (and thus the "new McCain" of fear and smear are inappropriate responses) while also setting up the frame for challenges ahead. It actually calls, in an oblique way, for sacrifice rather than excess.
Strategically speaking, this should be a home run. If Obama and the rest of the campaign are successful in their framing of the moment, then the McCain campaign's goal of getting this race down in the mud (where Rovian politics works) will be seen as backwards and obstructionist. McCain "won't get" this moment in history and its demands upon a new president. In fact, these tactics will look more like the problem--splitting the country apart rather than uniting in the face of a shared disaster. This also makes the Palin nomination a greater liability--not only is she intensely divisive particularly when compared to Biden, her lack of experience and inability to speak fluently about the economy makes her look unprepared for the vast task at hand.
It also makes any defensive responses to McCain attacks more persuasive. There will be criticisms of the Obama approach (and Republicans will HAVE to answer the policy proposals because they are the centerpiece of the ad), but if Obama is successful at defining the moment, it is easy to respond that such a crisis demands more than piecemeal reform and empty platitudes. "We never said it would be easy, but we have faith in the American people..."
The McCain response has been one of scapegoating, of placing blame on a few bad apples. The Obama ad, however, paints a broader picture of systemic failure. This message must make it through to the American public. I think that the mortgage crisis has been drawn out enough to make the scapegoating argument less credible, but it is always easier to point to a few exceptions to the rule than take on a vast entity like the whole of the banking industry. McCain's insistence that "the fundamentals are strong" helps the Democrats, for sure, but this is an opportunity for a big play, not a success in itself. We have to show that the fundamentals, the very building blocks of the economy (namely low wages as Scott Lilly so ably argues) are not strong, in a concise and easy to understand way. I think Lilly's argument works because it's so intuitive: What do you do when productive workers are making boatloads of products but aren't being compensated enough to actually buy them? You give them easy credit to buy the things they actually should be able to afford without borrowing money. You let corporations reap the profits and enjoy tax breaks, running an entire economy on ballooning debt of average Americans. Then you fiddle about lipstick and sexy kindergarteners while the whole thing burns.
Next time: Charts are awesome
I think it's a great move--define the event and set the parameters for an appropriate response. It works by using two foundational and ancient rhetorical concepts.
The first is kairos, or the opportune moment for speech. The kairotic moment may either be a response to an exigent situation or it may be constituted through effective speech. I think the economic ad is more in line with the latter than the former; while the immediate event is the Lehman Brothers collapse and AIG bailout, the spot makes these individual events part of a broader thrust of history--a crisis point brought on by irresponsible policy.
The ad does not simply define the moment, it also outlines what sort of response is "called for" by the event. In this case, the Obama campaign suggests that sober and cooperative action rather than divisive speechifying is the proper response to such a far reaching crisis. This is the second rhetorical concept, to prepon or in Latin decorum, both meaning appropriateness. Speech which goes beyond the appropriate cannot persuade, though speech that persuades may constitute what is appropriate.
What?!
If a response garners support from the audience, it builds a new sense of what speech can or should do. The "unprecedented event" that is the kairotic moment calls for speech that gives us guidelines in an uncertain world. It gives us the tools to negotiate contingency. The kairotic moment makes possible certain actions or proposals that might otherwise have seemed out of reach.
A concrete example from the spot may help. In an election year, voters are accustomed to being pandered to. We are the best nation in the world, we are smart and capable people, we deserve a candidate who will wine and dine us and make us feel special! We're also used to the politics of division and fear in order to draw stark lines between candidates.
Now, both of these tend to favor Republicans (or at least incumbents). What the new two minute spot does is argue that this moment in history calls for bipartisan discourse and cooperation (and thus the "new McCain" of fear and smear are inappropriate responses) while also setting up the frame for challenges ahead. It actually calls, in an oblique way, for sacrifice rather than excess.
Strategically speaking, this should be a home run. If Obama and the rest of the campaign are successful in their framing of the moment, then the McCain campaign's goal of getting this race down in the mud (where Rovian politics works) will be seen as backwards and obstructionist. McCain "won't get" this moment in history and its demands upon a new president. In fact, these tactics will look more like the problem--splitting the country apart rather than uniting in the face of a shared disaster. This also makes the Palin nomination a greater liability--not only is she intensely divisive particularly when compared to Biden, her lack of experience and inability to speak fluently about the economy makes her look unprepared for the vast task at hand.
It also makes any defensive responses to McCain attacks more persuasive. There will be criticisms of the Obama approach (and Republicans will HAVE to answer the policy proposals because they are the centerpiece of the ad), but if Obama is successful at defining the moment, it is easy to respond that such a crisis demands more than piecemeal reform and empty platitudes. "We never said it would be easy, but we have faith in the American people..."
The McCain response has been one of scapegoating, of placing blame on a few bad apples. The Obama ad, however, paints a broader picture of systemic failure. This message must make it through to the American public. I think that the mortgage crisis has been drawn out enough to make the scapegoating argument less credible, but it is always easier to point to a few exceptions to the rule than take on a vast entity like the whole of the banking industry. McCain's insistence that "the fundamentals are strong" helps the Democrats, for sure, but this is an opportunity for a big play, not a success in itself. We have to show that the fundamentals, the very building blocks of the economy (namely low wages as Scott Lilly so ably argues) are not strong, in a concise and easy to understand way. I think Lilly's argument works because it's so intuitive: What do you do when productive workers are making boatloads of products but aren't being compensated enough to actually buy them? You give them easy credit to buy the things they actually should be able to afford without borrowing money. You let corporations reap the profits and enjoy tax breaks, running an entire economy on ballooning debt of average Americans. Then you fiddle about lipstick and sexy kindergarteners while the whole thing burns.
Next time: Charts are awesome
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Debate Camp and Political Judo
While I want to return to the question of how identification is working
in the election so far, the recent pronouncements of a "tougher" Obama
campaign and E. J. Dionne's op ed in the Washington Post have made me
nostalgic for debate camp.
The Professor was once a damn good policy debater. From that experience
I learned something that the Obama campaign is having trouble with:
Offense wins championships.
An offensive argument (as in a football teams "offensive line" not
"offensive smell") is one that scores points, preferably in a way that
highlights your other strong arguments. A defensive argument simply
minimizes or neutralizes your opponents' arguments. Defense doesn't win
rounds, and a good debater's mantra is "offense offense offense."
The Obama campaign has been saying that McCain doesn't have any ideas.
This is defensive and technically incorrect. Dionne is right, the
McCain camp has ideas, but these ideas are terrible. Now, McCain has
gone on the offensive, albeit dishonestly, and a response that just
takes umbrage or attempts to neutralize the argument only is not
aggressive enough. Don't just say they don't have any ideas, say that
what ideas they have are BAD. You don't have to get dirty to get tough, just stick your damn punch instead of pulling it. Make your responses hurt. Turn
the argument back at them. Offense offense offense (or like Begala says
"Attack attack attack").
This means even turning your responses to their comments into shots that hurt, and thereby makes their attacks turn into liabilities--political Judo. Some examples:
RE: Palin's hawkishness: Not only do they want a state of perpetual
war, their economic plan will ensure that the middle class pays for all
of it.
RE: lipstick: We were wrong. Calling John McCain's policy of giving tax
breaks to the rich while the middle class loses their homes a pig is an
insult to pigs.
RE sex ed: Of course McCain is lying about our record. In 25 years, the closest he's
come to dealing with education policy is suggesting that
we abolish the Department of Education.
RE energy: Every time they hear the phrase "drill, baby drill" Middle
Eastern oil barons breathe a sigh of relief. They hear the voice of an
America that's still addicted to oil and is desperate for another
fix--and John McCain's energy policy of subsidizing Big Oil is music to
their ears.
RE any stupid sniping on the stump from McCain and Palin: They can dish
it out, but they can't take it. Besides, when you can't talk about
helping the middle class, expanding health care coverage or creating
new green-collar jobs, you have to fill up the speechtime somehow.
RE change: A health care policy that results in more Americans losing
their coverage is technically change. An energy policy that gives more
sweetheart deals to oil companies is change. A foreign policy that
threatens a new Cold War with Russia is change. A tax policy that gives
bigger breaks to the wealthiest Americans is change. It's change for
the worse.
Well, the coach has given her pep-talk, now get in there and win this
damn thing. Oh, and given the excitement about the Bush Doctrine and
the mechanics of preemptive strikes, might I suggest the edited volume "Hitting First: Preventive Force in U.S. Security Strategy" by Gordon Mitchell and Bill Keller (the Professor is neither of these people). Some praise:
"Thomas L. Hughes, former assistant secretary of state for intelligence
and research, praised the book by saying it “breaks new ground in
exposing political and semantic manipulations on the road to war in
Iraq, the dumbing down of threat ‘imminence’, and success in
controlling the public case for war. Iran’s new prominence as a
possible target for American–Israeli first strikes makes all this
particularly prescient and timely.”
in the election so far, the recent pronouncements of a "tougher" Obama
campaign and E. J. Dionne's op ed in the Washington Post have made me
nostalgic for debate camp.
The Professor was once a damn good policy debater. From that experience
I learned something that the Obama campaign is having trouble with:
Offense wins championships.
An offensive argument (as in a football teams "offensive line" not
"offensive smell") is one that scores points, preferably in a way that
highlights your other strong arguments. A defensive argument simply
minimizes or neutralizes your opponents' arguments. Defense doesn't win
rounds, and a good debater's mantra is "offense offense offense."
The Obama campaign has been saying that McCain doesn't have any ideas.
This is defensive and technically incorrect. Dionne is right, the
McCain camp has ideas, but these ideas are terrible. Now, McCain has
gone on the offensive, albeit dishonestly, and a response that just
takes umbrage or attempts to neutralize the argument only is not
aggressive enough. Don't just say they don't have any ideas, say that
what ideas they have are BAD. You don't have to get dirty to get tough, just stick your damn punch instead of pulling it. Make your responses hurt. Turn
the argument back at them. Offense offense offense (or like Begala says
"Attack attack attack").
This means even turning your responses to their comments into shots that hurt, and thereby makes their attacks turn into liabilities--political Judo. Some examples:
RE: Palin's hawkishness: Not only do they want a state of perpetual
war, their economic plan will ensure that the middle class pays for all
of it.
RE: lipstick: We were wrong. Calling John McCain's policy of giving tax
breaks to the rich while the middle class loses their homes a pig is an
insult to pigs.
RE sex ed: Of course McCain is lying about our record. In 25 years, the closest he's
come to dealing with education policy is suggesting that
we abolish the Department of Education.
RE energy: Every time they hear the phrase "drill, baby drill" Middle
Eastern oil barons breathe a sigh of relief. They hear the voice of an
America that's still addicted to oil and is desperate for another
fix--and John McCain's energy policy of subsidizing Big Oil is music to
their ears.
RE any stupid sniping on the stump from McCain and Palin: They can dish
it out, but they can't take it. Besides, when you can't talk about
helping the middle class, expanding health care coverage or creating
new green-collar jobs, you have to fill up the speechtime somehow.
RE change: A health care policy that results in more Americans losing
their coverage is technically change. An energy policy that gives more
sweetheart deals to oil companies is change. A foreign policy that
threatens a new Cold War with Russia is change. A tax policy that gives
bigger breaks to the wealthiest Americans is change. It's change for
the worse.
Well, the coach has given her pep-talk, now get in there and win this
damn thing. Oh, and given the excitement about the Bush Doctrine and
the mechanics of preemptive strikes, might I suggest the edited volume "Hitting First: Preventive Force in U.S. Security Strategy" by Gordon Mitchell and Bill Keller (the Professor is neither of these people). Some praise:
"Thomas L. Hughes, former assistant secretary of state for intelligence
and research, praised the book by saying it “breaks new ground in
exposing political and semantic manipulations on the road to war in
Iraq, the dumbing down of threat ‘imminence’, and success in
controlling the public case for war. Iran’s new prominence as a
possible target for American–Israeli first strikes makes all this
particularly prescient and timely.”
Ethics and objectivity
The media has been taking serious hits recently for their reluctance to, well, call a pig a pig. They have an ethical responsibility to the public to expose McCain lies for what they are, the argument goes, and instead they are hiding behind the old canard of "journalistic objectivity." As if that's even relevant in the age of narrowcasting...
Boy do I ever feel their pain.
One of rhetoric's cornerstone concepts I stress to my students is that of "dissoi logoi," that there are (at least) two sides to every argument. Knowing and being able to argue both sides doesn't make you a flack without a conscience, a la Nick Naylor in "Thank You for Smoking," but rather a more thoughtful and reflective advocate who has crafted your position carefully instead of relying on ideological "talking points."
This approach necessitates a certain amount of political agnosticism in class if I am to be seen as an honest broker. Students, if they smell your own personal tendencies, will tend to attempt to conform to your perceived biases. They're not being BAD, they're simply trying to adapt to their audience (this adaptation does not always go well, and my willingness to play devil's advocate has occasionally created head-scratching results, as when a student once asked a colleague of mine if he thought I would be all right listening to a speech supporting stem-cell research. I nearly choked on my morning coffee). This isn't a class about persuading Professor Rhetoric. I am not the point.
I'm pretty uncomfortable about this position, theoretically speaking. Objectivity is a myth; even our scientific pursuits are to an extent shaped by our desires regarding what the world should be and what it is. Yet, it is a helpful ideal. It provides us with a goal or principle, to be fair-minded and dispassionate, to build connections of empathy even with those on the other sides of our various political fences, and to learn what it means to "respectfully disagree."
The recent fabrication-happy McCain advertizing campaign is pushing against my resolution to remain an honest broker standing at the head of the class. It's not that there's anything partisan about calling out lies when one sees them (indeed, this would provide a very important object lesson as to how rhetoric can be used deceptively), it's that I will be perceived as such. Nothing ruins class dynamics faster than the fear that the professor has an agenda. It tanks my trustworthiness and credibility, and in education as well as in journalism, trustworthiness and credibility are critical.
I don't have an answer yet that I feel comfortable with. Hopefully I'll work something out before November. But until then--Charlie Gibson, I know what you're going through...
Next time, political framing: Lakoff, identification and praising Sparta in Athens.
Boy do I ever feel their pain.
One of rhetoric's cornerstone concepts I stress to my students is that of "dissoi logoi," that there are (at least) two sides to every argument. Knowing and being able to argue both sides doesn't make you a flack without a conscience, a la Nick Naylor in "Thank You for Smoking," but rather a more thoughtful and reflective advocate who has crafted your position carefully instead of relying on ideological "talking points."
This approach necessitates a certain amount of political agnosticism in class if I am to be seen as an honest broker. Students, if they smell your own personal tendencies, will tend to attempt to conform to your perceived biases. They're not being BAD, they're simply trying to adapt to their audience (this adaptation does not always go well, and my willingness to play devil's advocate has occasionally created head-scratching results, as when a student once asked a colleague of mine if he thought I would be all right listening to a speech supporting stem-cell research. I nearly choked on my morning coffee). This isn't a class about persuading Professor Rhetoric. I am not the point.
I'm pretty uncomfortable about this position, theoretically speaking. Objectivity is a myth; even our scientific pursuits are to an extent shaped by our desires regarding what the world should be and what it is. Yet, it is a helpful ideal. It provides us with a goal or principle, to be fair-minded and dispassionate, to build connections of empathy even with those on the other sides of our various political fences, and to learn what it means to "respectfully disagree."
The recent fabrication-happy McCain advertizing campaign is pushing against my resolution to remain an honest broker standing at the head of the class. It's not that there's anything partisan about calling out lies when one sees them (indeed, this would provide a very important object lesson as to how rhetoric can be used deceptively), it's that I will be perceived as such. Nothing ruins class dynamics faster than the fear that the professor has an agenda. It tanks my trustworthiness and credibility, and in education as well as in journalism, trustworthiness and credibility are critical.
I don't have an answer yet that I feel comfortable with. Hopefully I'll work something out before November. But until then--Charlie Gibson, I know what you're going through...
Next time, political framing: Lakoff, identification and praising Sparta in Athens.
Myth, Narrative and a Dear John Letter
I will admit it. I still feel John McCain nostalgia. And if a denizen of the far left cannot fully erase the McCain of McCain-Feingold etc., imagine the cognitive dissonance for centrists! Memory is stubborn, and cannot be separated from our experience of the present.
This McCain of memory is of course not actual but rather a product of political mythos, one polished during the GOP primary of 2000 and strengthened into the "Maverick brand" (though I find "branding" to be a shudder-inducingly vulgar intrusion of marketing into politics, the calling card of mass communication in the 21st century). Myth, Cassirer argues, is our most primal form of knowledge. It aggregates our experience and creates out of disparate events a broader controlling narrative, a way for us to make sense of a vast and chaotic world. But because it mixes so strongly with our imaginary and draws upon our most closely held commonplaces, myth cannot be easily overturned by events that run contrary to its narrative. These are outliers, rude exceptions to a more harmonious rule. Myth and memory create residue which cannot be wiped away.
The McCain myth is thus a political reality, and it is one that cannot be debunked through rational argument alone (for, though mything thinking is a precursor to what we now call reason, it plays more to our imaginative, emotional capacities than our logic). It cannot be disproven.
But it can be changed.
One cannot simply argue away a mythic narrative--the vacuum leaves behind chaos, and politics, being about collective meaning-making and deliberation, abhors a vacuum. One cannot replace a narrative whole-cloth because the memory which is tied to the myth refuses to dissolve. I may learn new and upsetting things about the "real" John McCain, but his previous appeal remains as memory.
We must change the narrative, shift it into another direction. We must alter the myth. This means acknowledging those stubborn parts of our memory, incorporating them while changing the plot of the story. John Kerry did a nice job of this at the DNC with his distinction between "Senator McCain" and "Candidate McCain," a distinction which itself feeds upon one of the most common elements of political mythology--that power and ambition corrupts even the most principled of people.
Lengthy theoretical preamble finished, here is another way one might use the same dynamic to retell the heretofore brilliantly managed McCain myth, using a familiar literary trope: the Dear John letter. Dear John letters of course are those ending a relationship after the dissatisfied lover has left. They tell a story of love which soured, and emphasizing what once was virtuous, honorable and cherished in the relationship only serves to heighten the tragedy and bitterness of betrayal.
Imagine an advertizing campaign based on a Dear John letter from moderate, middle class America:
Dear John,
For many years, I have felt nothing but respect for the courage you have shown in battle, for your principled support of bipartisan bridge-building, of your work to protect the democratic process from being perverted by monied interests.
But you have changed.
You surrounded yourself with lobbyists. You have become a Bush lapdog in search of acceptance and power. You have shown wanton disregard for the experience of average Americans who are losing their foothold in this floundering economy. You have turned from straight talk to dirty tactics.
You are not the John McCain I once respected. While I will always remember and honor the man you used to be, I don't know who you are anymore--but I know who you look like. And I can't afford four more years of the same.
Next time: The Professor is having a crisis of conscience.
This McCain of memory is of course not actual but rather a product of political mythos, one polished during the GOP primary of 2000 and strengthened into the "Maverick brand" (though I find "branding" to be a shudder-inducingly vulgar intrusion of marketing into politics, the calling card of mass communication in the 21st century). Myth, Cassirer argues, is our most primal form of knowledge. It aggregates our experience and creates out of disparate events a broader controlling narrative, a way for us to make sense of a vast and chaotic world. But because it mixes so strongly with our imaginary and draws upon our most closely held commonplaces, myth cannot be easily overturned by events that run contrary to its narrative. These are outliers, rude exceptions to a more harmonious rule. Myth and memory create residue which cannot be wiped away.
The McCain myth is thus a political reality, and it is one that cannot be debunked through rational argument alone (for, though mything thinking is a precursor to what we now call reason, it plays more to our imaginative, emotional capacities than our logic). It cannot be disproven.
But it can be changed.
One cannot simply argue away a mythic narrative--the vacuum leaves behind chaos, and politics, being about collective meaning-making and deliberation, abhors a vacuum. One cannot replace a narrative whole-cloth because the memory which is tied to the myth refuses to dissolve. I may learn new and upsetting things about the "real" John McCain, but his previous appeal remains as memory.
We must change the narrative, shift it into another direction. We must alter the myth. This means acknowledging those stubborn parts of our memory, incorporating them while changing the plot of the story. John Kerry did a nice job of this at the DNC with his distinction between "Senator McCain" and "Candidate McCain," a distinction which itself feeds upon one of the most common elements of political mythology--that power and ambition corrupts even the most principled of people.
Lengthy theoretical preamble finished, here is another way one might use the same dynamic to retell the heretofore brilliantly managed McCain myth, using a familiar literary trope: the Dear John letter. Dear John letters of course are those ending a relationship after the dissatisfied lover has left. They tell a story of love which soured, and emphasizing what once was virtuous, honorable and cherished in the relationship only serves to heighten the tragedy and bitterness of betrayal.
Imagine an advertizing campaign based on a Dear John letter from moderate, middle class America:
Dear John,
For many years, I have felt nothing but respect for the courage you have shown in battle, for your principled support of bipartisan bridge-building, of your work to protect the democratic process from being perverted by monied interests.
But you have changed.
You surrounded yourself with lobbyists. You have become a Bush lapdog in search of acceptance and power. You have shown wanton disregard for the experience of average Americans who are losing their foothold in this floundering economy. You have turned from straight talk to dirty tactics.
You are not the John McCain I once respected. While I will always remember and honor the man you used to be, I don't know who you are anymore--but I know who you look like. And I can't afford four more years of the same.
Next time: The Professor is having a crisis of conscience.
Friday, September 12, 2008
McCain and rhetoric's ugly side
It's a bad time to be a rhetorician.
We have enough trouble already, what with being accused of peddling manipulation skills and sharpening the art of blowing hot air. But the shockingly unethical claims being generated daily from the McCain campaign hit us in a very soft spot--the power of the lie and the willing ignorance of a mass public, the very charges made by Socrates contra teachers of rhetoric.
What is going on here? How can the McCain campaign continue to peddle blatant lies, even when they are instantly rebutted by an increasingly skeptical media?
One possible explanation will require us to think about the audiences he is trying to reach. There are two, the base and undecideds, and neither are likely to hear, understand, or care about the debates over truth and lies. Why? Well, the base doesn't for ideological reasons. This would be true of partisans of any stripe--we rebut the opposition's claims in our own heads, we give leeway or the benefit of the doubt, we cling to the explanations given by our candidate's campaign. Fabrications such as those found in the new sex-ed commercial feed into already existent conservative fantasies regarding liberals, amping up fear and ensuring that on election day megachurches get their members out to the polls. There is also the glee of the smear, that enjoyment that one gets out of tweaking their enemy--it was the great warmth of feeling in Palin's nomination speech as she mocked her opponents. It's the joy that a Republican takes at posting McCain propaganda here and watching the fallout (and this rush of excitement is not limited to one party).
They aren't really what I'm concerned about, because there the Republican base is comparatively small this year. Lots of people can't afford to engage in culture war skermishes.
The problem is undecideds. For the most part, undecided voters at this point in the game are disengaged from politics. They aren't carefully deliberating or weighing their options. They don't read the front page of the newspaper and they certainly aren't reading this. They are the most susceptible to a dishonest campaign, and the McCain people know that. If they can instill a feeling, one of fear of Obama or of liking for "tough talking" Sarah Palin, they've done their job. They are listening for the sound of the voice, not the meaning of the words that voice speaks, in the same way that some of my students will laugh at a sophisticated joke made by Jon Stewart without knowing anything about the political content of the joke because they aren't listening to the content--they are cueing off of the funny face.
Rick Davis is right, for the majority of undecided voters this is not a campaign about issues. If they were interested in issues, they wouldn't be undecided. The constant mindnumbing conversation about "hockey moms" or "security dads" aren't about demographics who have particular needs, they are names for audiences that share a set of commonplaces to be exploited. Use their language, take on their style or demeanor and they will recognize you as one of them, and if you succeed, they are much more likely vote for you. The lies aren't even about their content--they are about symbolically identifying with the audience one is interested in persuading.
Now it's fine to fret personally about the increasingly unethical campaign run by McCain and his lackeys--this is something to be upset about. But we cannot confuse the media and partisan response with a strategy to win over these "impulse voters." They aren't following Troopergate, nor are they concerned about Palin's relationship to the Bridge to Nowhere. They aren't being affected by any potential Republican bias on Politico. They don't care about accountability because they aren't keeping account, and this feeds irresponsible rhetoric, what Kenneth Burke once called "the lugubrious region of Malice and the lie."
My suggestion? Let them go. They are a crowd that Democrats find notoriously hard to please. Keep a focus on the economy and start picking off moderate Republicans who are tired of George W. Bush, the so-called Obamicans who still want to hear about the issues. Use the bait being thrown to the base, the most egregious conservative arguments, to highlight to moderates just how much they have become alienated from their party in the Bush-McCain political era. Find their commonplaces, their style and use it as a tool of ingratiation, in contrast with the party that has become so alien to them.
Know your audience and let the rest remain noise, insignificant battles to be fought at best by surrogates.
Next time: I've been thinking about ads lately...
We have enough trouble already, what with being accused of peddling manipulation skills and sharpening the art of blowing hot air. But the shockingly unethical claims being generated daily from the McCain campaign hit us in a very soft spot--the power of the lie and the willing ignorance of a mass public, the very charges made by Socrates contra teachers of rhetoric.
What is going on here? How can the McCain campaign continue to peddle blatant lies, even when they are instantly rebutted by an increasingly skeptical media?
One possible explanation will require us to think about the audiences he is trying to reach. There are two, the base and undecideds, and neither are likely to hear, understand, or care about the debates over truth and lies. Why? Well, the base doesn't for ideological reasons. This would be true of partisans of any stripe--we rebut the opposition's claims in our own heads, we give leeway or the benefit of the doubt, we cling to the explanations given by our candidate's campaign. Fabrications such as those found in the new sex-ed commercial feed into already existent conservative fantasies regarding liberals, amping up fear and ensuring that on election day megachurches get their members out to the polls. There is also the glee of the smear, that enjoyment that one gets out of tweaking their enemy--it was the great warmth of feeling in Palin's nomination speech as she mocked her opponents. It's the joy that a Republican takes at posting McCain propaganda here and watching the fallout (and this rush of excitement is not limited to one party).
They aren't really what I'm concerned about, because there the Republican base is comparatively small this year. Lots of people can't afford to engage in culture war skermishes.
The problem is undecideds. For the most part, undecided voters at this point in the game are disengaged from politics. They aren't carefully deliberating or weighing their options. They don't read the front page of the newspaper and they certainly aren't reading this. They are the most susceptible to a dishonest campaign, and the McCain people know that. If they can instill a feeling, one of fear of Obama or of liking for "tough talking" Sarah Palin, they've done their job. They are listening for the sound of the voice, not the meaning of the words that voice speaks, in the same way that some of my students will laugh at a sophisticated joke made by Jon Stewart without knowing anything about the political content of the joke because they aren't listening to the content--they are cueing off of the funny face.
Rick Davis is right, for the majority of undecided voters this is not a campaign about issues. If they were interested in issues, they wouldn't be undecided. The constant mindnumbing conversation about "hockey moms" or "security dads" aren't about demographics who have particular needs, they are names for audiences that share a set of commonplaces to be exploited. Use their language, take on their style or demeanor and they will recognize you as one of them, and if you succeed, they are much more likely vote for you. The lies aren't even about their content--they are about symbolically identifying with the audience one is interested in persuading.
Now it's fine to fret personally about the increasingly unethical campaign run by McCain and his lackeys--this is something to be upset about. But we cannot confuse the media and partisan response with a strategy to win over these "impulse voters." They aren't following Troopergate, nor are they concerned about Palin's relationship to the Bridge to Nowhere. They aren't being affected by any potential Republican bias on Politico. They don't care about accountability because they aren't keeping account, and this feeds irresponsible rhetoric, what Kenneth Burke once called "the lugubrious region of Malice and the lie."
My suggestion? Let them go. They are a crowd that Democrats find notoriously hard to please. Keep a focus on the economy and start picking off moderate Republicans who are tired of George W. Bush, the so-called Obamicans who still want to hear about the issues. Use the bait being thrown to the base, the most egregious conservative arguments, to highlight to moderates just how much they have become alienated from their party in the Bush-McCain political era. Find their commonplaces, their style and use it as a tool of ingratiation, in contrast with the party that has become so alien to them.
Know your audience and let the rest remain noise, insignificant battles to be fought at best by surrogates.
Next time: I've been thinking about ads lately...
Welcome to Professor Rhetoric's culture&politics happy hour!
So. Blogging.
I have blogging double-consciousness. On one hand, I troll the left-handed politics blogs constantly and even started making a little noise at Talking Points Memo. On the other, I am fairly convinced that the deliberative revolution hope the internet age has brought us is by and large fictive. Additionally, I'm fairly certain that writing one myself is an exercise in solipsism and delusion that sucks time away from what I should be doing--namely teaching and researching.
Yet, the 2008 presidential election has woken up the practical side of me, and I have been thinking recently that perhaps it might be a good idea to step out of the theoretical world and put on a rhetorical critic hat. It's still solipsistic, but at least it's marginally academically defensible.
So, here will be a space for musing on politics, as well as other topics which drift past (favorites being professional football, philosophy, popular science, art, and anthropological observations of a newly Yankee-fied life) all from a humanistic and rhetorical perspective. Enjoy, hypothetical audience--but then again, aren't all audiences imaginary?
PR
I have blogging double-consciousness. On one hand, I troll the left-handed politics blogs constantly and even started making a little noise at Talking Points Memo. On the other, I am fairly convinced that the deliberative revolution hope the internet age has brought us is by and large fictive. Additionally, I'm fairly certain that writing one myself is an exercise in solipsism and delusion that sucks time away from what I should be doing--namely teaching and researching.
Yet, the 2008 presidential election has woken up the practical side of me, and I have been thinking recently that perhaps it might be a good idea to step out of the theoretical world and put on a rhetorical critic hat. It's still solipsistic, but at least it's marginally academically defensible.
So, here will be a space for musing on politics, as well as other topics which drift past (favorites being professional football, philosophy, popular science, art, and anthropological observations of a newly Yankee-fied life) all from a humanistic and rhetorical perspective. Enjoy, hypothetical audience--but then again, aren't all audiences imaginary?
PR
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