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Politicians speak the language of obfuscation
of TheColumnists.com
I’ve always wondered about it. Perhaps you have too.
I’m talking about the language used
by politicians when they get elected to something. It’s
all there in the inaugural speech, or the speech given to cheering
supporters at the victory party. Inevitable.
After a campaign that is described as the most crucial in the
history of nation/state/water district they solemnly tell us
that the nation/state/water district is facing a crisis. The
crisis is grave. It can only be resolved by the efforts of the
newly elected politician who promises to devote every fiber of
his or her being to the task. It
will demand sacrifice from all of us, but with God’s help,
all will be well.
And then, Whee! a year or two later, the politician is off again,
whooping and hollering on the campaign trail for some higher
office.
What happened to the original crisis? Never mind. That was then,
this is now. Shut up and sit down. We have a brand-new crisis
that is much more fun.
The politician is still in an office that he or she has repeatedly
declared carries heavy responsibilities. But now the politician
is campaigning for another job, spending 14 hours a day eating
sometimes godawful food while trying to convince voters that
the new crisis demands that the politician be elected. There’s
no mention of the duties of the office the politician presently
holds, and there is no evidence that the politician has given
any thought to them at all.
Fulfilling duties of the present office? What are you talking
about? I have a campaign on my hands.
Strangely enough, reporters never seem to ask, “Sir,
you said not more than a year ago that the nation/state/water
district faced a grave crisis that you were going to devote every
fiber of your being to solve. Now you’re devoting every
fiber of your being to getting elected to another office. What
gives?”
The politician will answer with a list of accomplishments, not
pointing out that the grave crisis is still there. In fact, now
that you mention it, the grave crisis isn’t that big a deal.
The politician doesn’t say that explicitly, of course, because
that would be too
ridiculous even for a politician to say. The politician just
sidles around the question.
This is all rather naive, of course. We must all get it through
our heads that, like a bluejay, a politician is attracted to
a bright, shiny object--like another, higher office. It’s
a baked-in characteristic, like DNA that dictates blue eyes.
A decent respect for the opinion of any kind rules out the hypothetical
question from a reporter such as the one above. You don’t
ask a starving man why he’s eating a hamburger, do you?
The above ruminations concern only one aspect of political communication,
or lack of it. There are at least two others.
Number one is the vow by candidates that when they get to, say,
Congress, by God, things are going to be different. The candidate
is going to shake Congress out of its old, corrupt ways.
Sheerest nonsense, of course. If the politician is able to shuck
and jive a sufficient number of voters to get elected, the cold
fact is that the newly arrived reformer is one of 535 members
of Congress and isn’t going to reform anything. In fact,
the overwhelming certainty is that our crusader will be paying
close attention to the wishes of the people and organizations
who invested the money to get him/her into the marble halls.
But you can’t say that to the voters, because they don’t
like Congress and they want someone who is going to change things.
They are inevitably disappointed. What! You pay attention to
lobbyists? Horrors!
As a candidate, you have to carefully avoid the fact that your
individual race really doesn’t amount to much. Voters have
to feel they are important, don’t they? If they are acquainted
with the facts of life, how important are they going to feel?
Number Two is the “We all hope” stratagem.
Reporter: “Mr. Mayor, there are reports that Amalgamated
Widgets is going to pull out of its downtown office building
and move lock, stock and barrel to the suburbs, leaving a giant
hole in the city’s business scene. What about that? Is it
going to happen?”
Answer that’s not an answer: “We all hope that Amalgamated
Widgets will not pull out of the city and move to the suburbs.
We believe that would not be in the best interests of the city,
or of Amalgamated.”
Follow-up question never asked: “Mr. Mayor, I didn’t
ask you what you hoped. I asked if Amalgamated was going to move
out. We all know what you hope.”
The sad fact is that any candidate or politician who fails to
use the above evasions and fantasies is probably going to lose.
Show me a politician who levels with the voters and I’ll
show you a defeated politician.
One hopes for more. But then, one hopes for hot fudge Sundaes
that are good for you. In either case, the chances are not good.
©2012 by Charles M. McFadden. The McFadden caricature is ©2001 by Jim Hummel. This column first posted July 23, 2012.
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