B Y J A M E S C A R V I L L E
THE SOUND BITES, STUPID
Once Again, the Nattering Nabobs of Negativism
Have Missed the
Point
Political consultants get a lot of abuse. I personally have taken many hits. A couple of years ago, I was accused of spreading false rumors about a political opponent. Just last week, I got it much worse: a couple of Republican operatives leaked a blatantly false report that the Mars meteors that NASA's been studying contain snippets of primitive genetic material that bear an uncanny resemblance to my own. Fortunately, I have pretty thick skin. But there is one silly charge I cannot abide: this notion that we political consultants are responsible for destroying political debate in America. According to many elite columnists and so-called political scientists (I used to believe that you couldn't use the words "science" and "politics" in the same sentence, much less in a single job title!), we consultants are verbal lobotomists. We've taken our nation's cherished legacy of reasoned, rational discourse and dumbed it down beyond recognition with a new mind-sapping invention called the sound bite. If you follow the Republican and Democratic conventions -- the Super Bowls of sound bites -- you'll hear this criticism over and over again. I've had enough. It's high time someone injected a little historical perspective into this debate, and I'm just the guy for the job. The buck stops here. Wait. The buck stops here. I do believe we've just stumbled upon a sound bite predating the current political era. And what a great sound bite that was! In just four short words inscribed upon a desktop sign, Harry S. Truman defined his vision of what it means to be a leader. He didn't even author the line, but it resonated with what Americans saw in Truman and it stuck. The sound bite dates back a hell of a lot further than the 1940s. And thank goodness for that. In a super article in this month's Smithsonian, Robert Wernick makes the case that it's time "for the critics and commentators to stop whining and wailing about the nefariousness of sound bites." As Wernick points out, sound bites are "one of the oldest and most honorable devices known to man." Take American history, for example. " The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," FDR's most famous sound bite, helped millions of desperate Americans to persevere through the worst of the Depression. The sound bite "he kept us out of war," defined American isolationism and secured the reelection of Woodrow Wilson -- probably our most scholarly President, mind you -- in 1916. Patrick Henry's "Give me liberty or give me death!" stirred this nation to take up arms against its colonial oppressors. Now think of all the world classics: "L'etat c'est moi," "Veni, Vidi, Vici," "Cogito, ergo sum." Those are just the ones I can pronounce. And what do you think the Ten Commandments are, anyway? There's a good reason why God settled on pithy little phrases like "Thou Shalt Not Kill." He could have written the thing with all kinds of lawyerly definitions and exceptions. But when you're laying the foundation of human ethics, you do not want to muddle the message. You need to cut to the quick. You need sound bites. The problem with political discourse today is not that we have too many sound bites. If anything, we could use more good ones. Think about it. How many good lines can you remember during the past three presidential campaigns? In 1984, Walter Mondale used "Where's the beef?" to good effect against Gary Hart, but most young people probably don't remember the Wendy's ad that the line sprang from. The 1988 campaign was a bit more memorable. Lloyd Bentsen ripped Dan Quayle with the classic: "I knew Jack Kennedy. Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy." (For the record, the line had been scripted ahead of time; Quayle simply stepped into a trap.) And at the two political conventions that year, each party had some great zingers. On our side, Ann Richards lit into George Bush with the line "Poor George . . . He can't help it. He was born with a silver foot in his mouth." And then Bush, in his nomination speech, produced "Read my lips: no new taxes," a sound bite that perhaps won him the election that year -- and, when it proved later to be nothing more than empty calories, lost it for him the next time around. In 1992, the crop was pretty sparse. I was the author of the often-quoted sound bite "The Economy, Stupid," but to be honest with you, I've always thought that line was a bit goofy. It sure as hell can't compare with a great quotation like, "You shall not crucify mankind on a cross of gold," the key sound bite from William Jennings Bryan's speech at the 1896 Democratic National Convention. Every once in a while, the droll Bob Dole threatens to come up with one for the ages, like his label for a White House appearance by former Presidents Carter, Ford, and Nixon: "See no evil, hear no evil, and evil." And he's got great help on the sound bite front. John Buckley, Dole's communications director, is one of the best in the business, so maybe we'll hear some good one-liners in San Diego this week. But the fact that during this election season so far these guys haven't come up with anything above mediocre is telling. Sound bites only work when a candidate has a steady vision. For all you can say about Pat Buchanan, you know where the guy stands, and it was a bunch of clever sound bites that helped him get there. My personal favorite is the rallying cry, "Do not wait for orders from headquarters, mount up everybody and ride to the sound of the gun!" As for Bill Clinton, he's certainly had some evocative lines, like "I still believe in a place called Hope," "the era of big government is over," and his now-fulfilled pledge to "end welfare as we know it." But as the president himself is fond of saying, we can do better. Just wait until the convention. Got a favorite sound bite? Join the James Carville discussion in Table Talk. |