|
This article was written by Andrew Ferguson in The Weekly Standard on September 22, 1997. Seems rather old, I know, but it is still very much relevant, and it will give you an idea as to how long the Republicans have been up to this reframing concept. All I had was a hard copy, so I had to transcribe it myself. There is plenty of discussion material in this article, so please read...
********************************************************************
Frank Luntz, a Republican pollster and one of the foremost "communications" advisers to Trent Lott and Newt Gingrich, has just posted a bulletin to congressional Republicans. It is a 222-page bulletin, a bulletin with 24 chapters and six appendices. It comes in a three-ring binder as white as Wonder Bread. It has an American flag on the cover. It is divided with colored tabs. According to my bathroom scale it weighs six pounds, but it probably weighs more since my kids are always screwing around with the scale. It is called "The Language of the 21st Century," and it was distributed to GOP lawmakers before the congressional recess. It is "the most serious effort ever made by either party to put together an effective, comprehensive national communication strategy for individual congressional and senatorial candidates." It is this and more, much more. It is a poignant peek into the psychological condition of the Republican party.
That sentence about it being "the most serious effort ever made, etc." comes from the plan itself. It carries Luntz's customary tone, which is immodest. Many Republicans say he has earned the right to be immodest. Just about every week, month after month, Luntz hops on a plane at Washington National Airport, flies to some remote corner of the Land Beyond the Beltway, drives to a shopping mall or a chain motel, and there holds a focus group. He pays each of his Jane Q. Publics and Average Joes $40 or $50 for their trouble. In return they sip Diet Cokes and eat catered ham sandwiches and for two hours tell him what they think about this and that - politics and politicians, issues and events of the day.
Luntz listens to them with great attention, and then he returns to Washington and consults with Gingrich and Lott, the titualar heads of his party. They listen to Luntz with great attention. They believe, as Luntz himself believes, that Luntz has a special understanding of the writhing, petulant beast that is the American public. He sees, with his own eyes, in those rented rooms at shopping malls and the shabby basements of chain motels, the way the beast responds to political messages. He has his finger on its pulse, his thermometer in its mouth. When the American public feels a draft, Frank Luntz gets the sniffles.
And he has discovered this: "The Republican party in 1997 is just like my mom."
Those are Luntz's words, too, and they come in the plan's prologue. "The Language of the 21st Century" is his summa, his attempt to compile most of what he has learned in his many sessions with the beast, and to convey to his Republican friends precisely what they must say to make the beast happy. For at the moment the beast is not happy with the Republicans. Like Mrs. Luntz, who spent years fruitlessly shouting English to her Portuguese-speaking maid, Republicans "mistakenly believe that if you speak loudly enough, your message will get through." But this is not the problem. This is the problem: "Linguistically, you are out of touch with the American people. They really think Bill Clinton feels their pain, and they really think you feel nothing."
From this premise flows Luntz's national communications strategy. His advice, as contained in his book, is highly practical and extraordinarily detailed. "In today's over-politicized environment, nothing is more important than using words and phrases that resonate with the American people," Luntz writes. "Words are everything." And he means it literally, so to speak. The great bulk of his advice consists of the locutions that have made the beast purr with pleasure in his focus groups. "We have found the words and phrases that will move the American people."
What is particularly appealing about this approach is that Republicans need no longer worry about ideas; politics has become a straightforward matter of phraseology. For example: Luntz tells Republicans they must never say they will "deny" government-provided medical care to illegal immigrants. Only 38 percent of the American people agree with that. But 55 percent believe it is right to "not give" government-provided medical care to illegal immigrants. For the candidate the soundbite practically writes itself. "We must not give..." and so on. You will note that the basic proposition is the same. Either way, the wetbacks get screwed out of medical care, which is the important thing.
The reason the beast dislikes "denying" benefits but is happy to "not give" them is that the beast wants to be nice. It likes nice things, not mean things or angry things. "If you spent countless hours talking with average Americans," says Luntz, who has, "you would know how deeply they want to regain the sense of 'belonging' and 'community' in their lives." This goes double for politics. Average Americans tell Luntz they disdain partisanship and harsh talk. He therefore offers a chapter on "How to Talk About Clinton." Republicans must tread lightly. "Any time you attack him too wantonly, you risk being perceived as partisan or mean." And so the successful Republican will be one who expresses "SADNESS, REGRET, DISAPPOINTMENT or DISMAY" at the scumbucket who is now sliming up the White House.
Specificity confuses the beast. "Put less emphasis on numbers," advises Luntz. "Speak in terms of people, ideas and visions. Don't talk dollars and cents." The more specific the language, the "less powerful" it will be. Things like argument and evidence will turn your listeners off. In his chapter on education, for example, Luntz writes that "it may have been widely proven that there is no correlation between educational spending and outcome, but no one believes it." Don't try to convince the beast otherwise, for it knows what it knows, even if what it knows isn't so. Argument implies contention, which implies unpleasantness. Persuasion implies intellection, which is likewise unpleasant. "You need to speak to the average American - someone who never graduated from a four-year college, watches about four hours of TV a day, and consumes a six-pack a week." A politician would be crazed to contradict the average American. It would be like taking away his beer or turning off his TV.
This is better: "We have identified four key phrases that should be included in every speech, interview, and every presentation that might make its way to the general public." Here they are. "Investing in people"; "Sharing the success"; "It's about the future"; and "We will face these economic challenges together." What do these words mean? Meaning is really beside the point. Words are used to create a mood.
"Perhaps the most powerful and effective word of this decade is 'challenge,'" Luntz has discovered. It stirs the blood; it sounds almost like Churchill, if anybody had heard of him. "But challenging the public to meet the challenge (so to speak)," writes Luntz, "is not enough. Americans want to know that you are they are fighting together for the common good. Your objective is to create a team-centered approach." You see? This is why you face the challenges together. As a team. Together as a team, facing the challenges that face us together. Not separately.
Education, Luntz says, "will likely be the most important issue from now until the start of the new millenium," so Republicans only have about 25 months to get the thing straight. His chapter on education is perhaps the longest in the book. "Everything in bold is meant to be written or said - word for word - in your speeches, press releases and brochures." Say this: "Education is about the future." And this: "All children deserve a chance at a quality education." And this: "the incredible challenges teachers face in the classroom." And this: "clear-thinking, morally-acting, putting children first legislation effort." And this: "I don't want one child to fall through the cracks."
"These phrases work," Luntz writes, "because they are simple, straightforward, non-controversial statements." (His emphasis.) "Your task is to talk about education in a way that makes your audience feel comfortable." So if you say this: "I support vouchers for school choice," you might as well just toss in the towel right now. Loser. Are you trying to make the beast uncomfortable? It doesn't like "vouchers"; it likes "opportunity scholarships." It doesn't like "school choice"; it likes "parental choice." "If a proposed change sounds complicated," Luntz concludes, "people will oppose it."
Suddenly, as you absorb "The Language of the 21st Century," a horrible thought obtrudes. Could it be...is it possible...that the beast is stupid? Luntz denies it, and in fact goes to great lengths to praise its wisdom, but the conclusion, if you read between the lines, is hard to avoid. He includes a section on how to write a good campaign letter, for example, and emphasizes that no parapgraph should be longer than six lines, lest the voter get bored. (Honey! Where's the beer?) He notes a few contradictions along the way, too. Many, in fact. Most Americans thought the Republicans went too far in their almost non-existent "budget cuts"; simultaneously most Americans thought the Republicans didn't go far enough in their attempt to change Washington." By two to one, writes Luntz, "Americans feel too much is spent on welfare, but by 10 to one, Americans think too little is spent on aid to the poor." And so on, and so on.
What's a Republican to do in the face of so many paradoxes? "Empathize," Luntz writes in his "Communications Checklist." And whenever possible, say this: "It's About the Children." When holding a town meeting, ditch the lectern and go into the audience with a hand-held mike. Be interactive. They need to know that you care. When they ask you about the balanced budget, say that a balanced budget is not about numbers, it's about people. When they ask you why about affirmative action, say that you support voluntary affirmative outreach. And another thing: Use newspaper clippings.
You may have noticed that all of the foregoing would fit comfortably on Bill Clinton, the Republican nemesis; much of the language indeed has been lifted from his lexicon. Still, Luntz insists he has faith in the beast. "You must not say what you do not believe," he writes. "Voters can spot an imposter a mile away." Then he adds: "We already have a president who will say anything and do anything to get elected. That should not be what politics is all about." Of course not. It's about the future. It's about the children.
|
Printer-friendly format
Email this thread to a friend
Bookmark this thread
(1000+ posts)
Send PM |
Profile |
Ignore
