Tag Archives: Elon Musk

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Where Is The Substantive Discussion?

Our political discourse is not only more coarse than in the recent past, it also suffers from people disinclined to explain the logic of their positions. 

These days an American needs to look hard to find substantive discussions of proposed federal actions that will have significant effects. Asserting a position is one thing. Supporting the assertion with genuine good reasons is another. Federal downsizing, budget levels, infrastructure expenditures, and grants for programs ranging from health care to the arts would benefit from some deep dives into the specifics of what a  federal response should be. But with the exception of some third-party experts, or back-bencher members of Congress, or some long-form  news stories, we get sound bites rather than details.  Our President can get about half way to one generic reason, but not the solid reasoning for a particular decision. Too often the default is the conversion of a substantive issue into an inconsequential battle of political personalities. The scattered debate about bombing Iraq was a rare and only partial exception. Of course, if a leader’s only reasons for a change in policy are spite or retribution, we are probably not going to hear it.

A necessary distinction for understanding political rhetoric is between instrumental talk and expressive talk. As this broad difference suggests, instrumental discussion is focused on the merits of arguments or routes to a compromise for a given proposal. Instrumental talk is not about people or personalities, but about their ideas, values, goals, and whether evidence exists for their claims. Even as it becomes distressingly rare, It is the more substantial rhetorical form that is basic to decision-making in an open society. By contrast, expressive talk is about the theater of policy and its players. For example, do we really have not heard compelling reasons for why funding for the Voice of America was cut, or why NOAA kneecapped, in spite of evidence that it provides essential environmental data to corporations and citizens,  And Do we have an administration position on the total closure of USAID?  Or must we accept Elon Musk’s arrogant conclusion based on no evidence that USAID was “a criminal organization?”  Even with its life-saving work especially for children, he simply asserted  that it was “time for it to die,” and enjoying “the weekend feeding USAID into the wood chipper.” I have not seen other administration arguments for the cuts to these and many other programs. And has any American heard a sustained and compelling explanation for the high tariffs put on our northern neighbor and former ally?  It has been a long summer season of drama, but little public discussion.

National Politics is Personalized 

Expressive communication is centered on the personal characteristics of the people with a stake in a given outcome. In its most common forms it involves name-calling, the questioning of another side’s motives, and dismissive and self-serving summations of what others are trying to achieve with a given legislative act. One of Donald Trump’s recent claims for why Elon Musk abandoned his earlier advisory role is mostly attributed to Musk’s unhappiness with the President’s policy of not allowing tax credits for the purchase of electric automobiles. Musk called the portion of the proposed fax bill with this provision a “disgusting abomination.”  Trump, in turn, noted that Musk “went crazy” over the bill. Both are headline-grabbing expressive responses: noticeably devoid of any substantive discussion of the reasons for providing financial incentives for purchasing electric cars.

In our national politics expressive language is rhetorical candy: gratifying for its obvious effects, but having little value in shedding light on the substantive reasons for an action. “Dogs,” “losers,” and “enemies of the people”–all Trumpisms–don’t cut it as terms of substantive discourse. The problem is made worse by the obvious news value of including a sound bite of a politician in full flight, guns of indignation blasting.

Try using these distinctions in your own assessments of another’s political discussion. Do the parties have real reasons that are given? Can they outline what is at stake? Or are we just getting a recital of attitudes that, in the end, amount to little more than pseudo-responses? At the next town meeting with a federal or local official a good question is to inquire about why the politician will support or vote against a pending piece of legislation. Political “showhorses” will typically seek a way to attack a group or person. A “workhorse” will explain what he or she thinks are the merits of the pending legislation.

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When Results Fall Short of Expectations

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A number of years of writing and teaching has forced me to be a student of the unexpected ricochet. That’s pretty much the whole game if you are playing racquetball, and it has a lot of relevance to communication.

second thoughtsThe actual court for the game is simply a 20 by 40-foot white box with walls that function as a playing surfaces for several players hitting a hard rubber ball. It’s typically smashed so hard against the playing wall that it comes back at speeds and angles are hard to predict. Those missed shots off the walls, ceiling or floor are how you score points against your opponent. Those who have escaped the sting of that small missile can be thankful. It hurts. A bruised French player must have coined the word “ricochet.” But it also evokes the unanticipated associations, meanings, slights, and bogus significations possible every time we open our mouths. More than most kinds of human endeavor, persuasion is fraught with effects that are unforeseen. No wonder it is so difficult.

From a number of meta-studies we know that the odds of getting someone to alter their attitudes even after a flurry of good reasons have been presented is—on the best days—no better than maybe one in ten. After explaining this theory of “minimal effects” in a class, a student glumly asked, “What’s the point? Why bother? The challenge hardly seems worth the effort.”

The short answer is that we have no choice. We are hard-wired to connect. And, by the way, who says that convincing another person to give up an attitude or a cherished behavior should be easy? We’ve worked hard to put our lives together in some sort of coherent way; we are not going to rearrange them on a whim.

It’s best to consider what can go wrong. In persuasion theory, unexpected effects are called “boomerangs.” The idea is important to remember because even well-planned campaigns to change others’ behaviors can easily veer off course. I teach this logic, and encourage my students to wear their newly acquired skepticism as a badge of honor. Having a healthy level of doubt about predicted effects is a life skill. Recall Elon Musk brandishing his chain saw in the Oval Office, or hoisting his arm in some sort of Fascist salute, or demonstrating  the toughness of his truck’s windows as one breaks.  All were surely not what the unpopular Musk intended.

Consider some additional cases, mostly true:

  • You show up to give an invited presentation to a group and (a) there is no screen for the PowerPoints you counted on, (b) there is nowhere to plug in your video projector, (c) there is no podium for your notes and (d) and a crew of ten men and machines are busy re-paving the parking lot next door.  Under these circumstances, how effective do you think will can be?
  • Your advertising agency has prepared a gay-friendly ad campaign that tested well and is now running in three national media outlets. Everyone on the creative team basks in their certain rewards of their progressive messages. But a respected leader in the LGBT community condemns the ads for “promoting old stereotypes.”  Condemnation of the ads is getting more attention than the ads themselves.
  • At a business lunch with a potential client you innocently praise the good service you once got from a large national retailer, only to be chided for supporting a chain whose owners are “political reactionaries.”
  • You meet a new set of Michigan in-laws for the first time, not realizing that for this family of General Motors employees, your new Ford visible to all in their front driveway might just as well be a load of manure.
  • You are Bridget Jones at a literary party in the midst of introducing the work of a hack you brazenly oversell as the author of “the greatest book of our time.”  This happens just as you catch  looks of dismay from the faces of Jeffrey Archer and Salman Rushdie, just a few feet away.

When it comes to communication, it is reasonable to worry about things going wrong. You will probably be pleasantly surprised, but it pays to be a little bit of a pessimist.