Well, it's 2012 and as we all know, the Mayan calendar is predicting one barn-burner of an election season. The next nine months are going to give painful birth to a sticky litter of books, columns, essays, articles, pamphlets, blog posts, tweets, texts, bumper stickers, and bathroom graffiti. I can already see some major issues arising amongst all this election talk, so as a part-time member of the writing class, I'd like to offer some suggestions that I think should keep us communicating effectively. Of course, this supposes that all of us want to communicate perchance to persuade and not just howl into the void. I'll produce a guide to void howling later this week.
Let's get started with a big one: "Socialism" (and to a lesser extent "fascism"). If you consume any amount of polititalk in a given week, you've no doubt heard socialism bandied about, generally in regards to either a candidate's proposals or the candidate themselves. I'm not going to attempt to argue whether this or that is actually socialist or not, my complaint is more general: it's not useful. It's a word that has too much baggage to be of any use to communicators. All it can do is make a third of your audience applaud and a third of them groan. The last third doesn't attach any particular significance to the word and will probably just tune it out. The point is that no one hears "This guy is socialist!" and suddenly reevaluates their assumptions, eager to hear more of your deft analysis. If you object to a policy or position, explain in rational, tangible terms why it is objectionable. If you dislike a policy you consider socialistic, explain the shortcomings of the policy and lessons learned from history and trust your reader to draw their own conclusions about it. Relying on a scare word comes across as lazy and manipulative. If you find your fingers tickling the s, o, and c keys on your keyboard, ask yourself: if someone on the other side accuses your side of being "Nazi-like", would you find it persuasive?
Another phrase that needs to go is "fair share". It has achieved cliche status in record time and is as eye-rollingly overused as socialism. Again, I'm not going to argue about who should pay what share of what. The problem is that "fair share" is imprecise and ultimately rhetorically useless. What's fair? Fair according to whom? When talking about taxation, everybody has a different opinion of what fair means. Frankly, most people define fair by using themselves as the baseline anyway, so relying on that buzzword to add some moral weight to your argument isn't helpful. There is a legitimate argument to be had over who should pay how much for which things. Instead of taking the shortcut of "fair share", flex your prose prowess and make a specific case for something. Give the reader some numbers, give them some data, and convince them of the logic behind what you consider to be fair. And if I may be so bold, you might also explain why fair is relevant in a given argument. If we're discussing lacrosse, fairness is definitely applicable. When we meander into politics, economics, and other swampy topics, don't assume your reader attaches the same value to things that you do. If you can't convince someone of the importance of your values, the minutiae of those values will be maximally uninteresting to them.
Speaking of taking shortcuts, I'd like to deal with these next words en masse: "Spew/Hate/Death/Treason/Evil/-Monger". Aside from being the name of my new grindcore band, these words provide a maximum amount of ignition with a minimum of information. All sides are guilty of peppering their rhetoric with these linguistic trip mines and it makes having a reasonable discussion nearly impossible. On the off chance that you're writing with the intention of getting someone to see things from your point of view, these words do nothing to further that aim. They only add a garish color to your argument, they don't illuminate anything. It is notoriously difficult to change a person's beliefs about things. It requires laborious, precise surgery in the form of carefully reasoned arguments combining tangible evidence, logical application of philosophy, and a certain measure of mature wisdom. It requires a fine, delicate scalpel. The above words are sticks of dynamite and the surest way to prevent even accidental persuasion.
You'll notice in my above three examples, I am arguing against the broad application of labels and label-like language (a behavior I myself have committed at times). I'm not naive enough to claim that many labels aren't absolutely accurate. Of course they are, otherwise we wouldn't use them. The point is that on the battlefield of ideas, labels are worthless as weapons (or as armor for that matter). They're the smoke left over from a barrage, the metallic smell of unspent ammo, the shade beneath a concrete barricade. They are the gossamer ephemera surrounding the very corporeal and very capable accoutrements of war. Those of us arrogant enough to think we can influence people's ideas need to be humble enough to do the hard work of making complete and coherent arguments. Anything less insults the reader and does a disservice to whatever cause we're serving.
Finally, at the risk of dipping my toe into the bathwater of snivelling naivete, I would like to propose the national taking of a deep breath (and perhaps a national glass of wine). One of the things that I love about my country is that it's full of passionate thinkers who have the freedom and technology to scuffle over all manner of policies and philosophies. Social media has allowed a multitude of new voices into the mix and every computer programmer, nurse, stay-at-home mom, and filthy cop (ahem) can join the conversation. That said, my social media network looks like a soccer riot right now. Everyone is screaming and throwing chairs and I think a dog got hurt. Nobody is listening to anyone and frankly, it's just not that fun. There are plenty of good ideas out there but none of us can hear them over the sturm and drang. So consider this my commitment to keep it mellow and an invitation for you to do the same. Maybe while everyone is knife-fighting outside, I'll pour us a drink and we can chat. How do you take your scotch?
Post a Comment