Category Archives: Rhetorical Mastery

Because They Said So

We assume we can be in charge because our language easily lets us imagine it.

Rhetoricians like to say that language has its way with us. The phrase is meant to be a reminder that everyday language steers us to conclusions that usually promise more than we as individual agents can deliver. Word choice can easily create perceptions that can make the unlikely more likely, the improbable possible, the fantasy an outcome that will surely happen. We can tie a wish to an action verb, and we are off and running, creating expectations for circumstances that probably will not materialize. Who knew that simple verbs like “is” and “will” can trigger phantoms of deceit?  The phrase “because I say so” is a pretty empty reason.

What seems inescapable is that the ease of committing ourselves to the control of events verbally is easy but difficult in actual practice. This reality is something we’ve come to know all too well in any period of war, where action verbs suggest more control than we actually have. In his recent speech to military leaders, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth asserted that “Either we’re ready to win or we are not,” overstating a single two-tailed option the belies the functions of any military in these complicated times. Hegseth’s language fit the warrior ethos” and “male standard” that he was peddling. But problems associated with foreign policy and its entanglements are highly variable. These words hardly hint at the peacekeeping that arguably remains the long-term burden of the American military. In addition, the Secretary must know that nearly 20 percent of our troops are women. As is so often the case, circumstances on the ground tend to get lost in the neon glow of rhetoric too dim to clearly see the Truth.

Blame our overly deterministic language.

We construct the world as a web of causes and their presumed effects. It’s natural that we will place ourselves and our institutions in the driver’s seat. We assume we can be in charge because our language so easily lets us imagine it. Blame our overly deterministic language as well as the hubris it encourages. Both set up tight effects loops that seem clear on the page but elusive in life.

If we put individual verbs in a lineup, they look more or less innocent: words like affect, ready, make, destroy, are, causes, starts, produces, alters, stops, triggers, controls, contributes, changes, and so on. In the right company they are suggestive. But let them lose in the rhetoric of a leader determined to make his or her mark on the public stage, and they can be vacuous. This is the realm of the familiar idea of “unintended effects,” where what we intended and what actually happens are different. Verbs flatter us by making us active agents, but as President Trump has learned about Russia’s attacks on Ukraine, fantasies of power and control suggest more order in human affairs than usually exists.

There is another interesting twist here. The use of verbs to project expected outcomes is ironically aggravated by our devotion to the scientific method. As Psychologist Steven Pinker has observed, we can’t do science without buying into the view that we can identify first causes. That’s fine for discovering the origins of a troublesome human disease. But even though this logic has spread through the culture, it cannot hold when we immerse ourselves in the infinite complexities of human conduct. Discovering as opposed to fantasizing the reasons and motivations of others is difficult. Add in large entities such as nations or tribes, and first causes of their conduct are often unknowable. And so strategic calculations based on efforts to influence or control behavior are bound to produce disappointment.

It’s a great paradox that we are so easily outgunned by the stunningly capricious nature of the human condition. Take it from someone who has spent a lifetime writing and teaching why people change their minds. We have models, theories and loads of experimental research. But making predictions about any specific instance is almost always another case of hope defeated by extenuating circumstances. We may be able to say what we want, giving eloquent expression to the goals we seek. Our verbs may sing their certainty. But forces we can’t predict are going to produce their own effects.

Masters of Political Cartooning

One image is all we need to see a problem in a leader’s words or actions.

A new theatrical documentary on the work of political cartoonist Pat Oliphant is running in a few theaters, but even a preview of The Savage Act: The Life and Cartoons of Pat Oliphant is a useful reminder of the wonderful pen and ink drawings that used to run daily in most city newspapers. As with Oliphant, sometimes it was a poison pen.

Oliphant was a political cartoonist at The Denver Post. I was lucky to grow up seeing his irreverent take on the self-important political leaders of the day. We have social media artists who carry on the tradition of puncturing the pretenses of our leaders, often using fake photos. But many are amateurs compared to the political cartoonists that thrived at newspapers through all of the 20th Century. Along with Herblock, Mike Luckovich, Paul Conrad and others, Oliphant offered timely jabs at officials who favored false but sober explanations for their actions.

Where contemporary political humor focuses more on the visual, most of the older breed included a verbal tag that added potency to the images. The economy of the images set the tone, and the text give them irony and bite. Think of Stephen Colbert as the long form equivalent to the one-off cartoons that Oliphant and his peers turned out on almost a daily basis. In the 10,000 cartoons he contributed—eventually winning a Pulitzer Prize—he made the case for this wonderful form as “a serious expression of political thought.”  Luckily, the Los Angeles Times Syndicate was among the organizations that spread the work of these master commentators available to many more newspapers.

Paul Conrad

Rhetorically, a good political cartoon is a synecdoche: a single and potent representation of a much larger phenomenon. One suggestive image and its language is all we need to pick up on a a problem with a leader’s words or actions.  Evocations of irreverence are common in these efforts to puncture pretense.

Some great work by newer artists can still be seen in Politico, the New York Review of Books and the New Yorker. But this group was never more powerful than when they captured the eyes of readers anxious for their daily fix from their local newspaper.  Count the loss of this daily political art as one of the casualties in the decline of American newspaper readership.

Caricatures of our last ten Presidents                                                                                        Pat Oliphant