Democracy

I would love to see the play “Democracy” again. I think my recent trip to Berlin might cause me to appreciate Willy Brandt more. The delicate role he played in detente, the dangerous clash of ideology in walled and blockaded Berlin, and the Stasi (Secret Police of East Germany) mole in Brandt’s office might be more appealing now.

However, I’m still adamant that intoning slogans from balconies is not stirring political discourse.

In the Broadway play “Democracy,” by Michael Frayn, the main character is the fascinating West German politician Willy Brandt. He was the much loved Mayor of Berlin, then Chancellor during the cold war and played a pivotal role in German unification.

I should have loved the play. I loved Frayn’s British musical hall farce, “Noises Off,” and his intellectual offering from the other end of the spectrum, “Copenhagen.” Copenhagen was a hit in New York, and an even better production in my home city of Toronto.

Democracy should appeal to all political junkies. I even started the night with the obligatory dinner at the landmark Sardi’s Restaurant. But the play didn’t work for me. The spy intrigue was not intriguing enough. Why Willy was so beloved was not entirely clear. His work on treaties and meetings in the East have lost their meaning in the intervening decades.

(Imagine a play about Nixon’s trip to China, or Eisenhower’s worry about inflation and the military industrial complex.)

For a lot of history, “you had to be there.”

A lot of policy, treaty making and lawmaking just doesn’t stay exciting for years. But a politician’s speech should live for a long, long time.

In Democracy, the Willy Brandt character is occasionally seen on a high balcony intoning the words “Have the courage to show compassion.” There are cheers to show how beloved Willy is. But as I write this, I’m not sure I have the quote correct. He could have said “Have the compassion to show courage.” For that matter, he might have been as well off saying, “Have the compassion to avoid courage,” or vice versa.

The point I wish to make about political speeches is that they must be specific to the candidate, the times, the party and the audience. Otherwise, you’re just so much background music and wallpaper.

Take the candidate, for starters. Each politician has to decide whether she wants to be a lobbyist or a legislator. A lobbyist can do a lot of good public service through part time agitation and annoying of elected officials. If a person thinks she has a better idea of how to implement the laws of the land, then lobbying is an honourable and productive profession.

But there comes a time when a political person honestly feels that the existing laws are not serving society well. If she also believes that current elected officials are not predisposed to passing new and more proper laws, she should decide to become a legislator. So, when this candidate makes a speech, she should be distinct from other candidates. No other candidate should be able to make most of that speech and get away with it.

The speech should also locate the candidate in the times in which we are living. When I analyze political speeches for clients, I read a lot of platitudes and flag waving. Words about duty, patriotism, honor, sacrifice and so on are peppered through many speeches. Every age is concerned about jobs, productivity, competitiveness, trade, education, welfare, dignity and such. But what are the specific hopes, aspirations and needs of this generation, right now? What are the specific solutions that suit these times? Most speeches miss this specificity.

Similar to my rule about whether a candidate should be a lobbyist or legislator, the candidate needs to choose a party, and even wing of a party, wisely. If a candidate has a policy that she thinks any wing of any party might implement, then it’s not a very specific, ideological position. The reason to get into politics is that the powers that be will not do what you think is right, in the way you think is most efficient. If you can articulate this, you have what Madison Avenue calls a “unique selling proposition,” and you will be remembered. If you speech is full of platitudes, your message ends up being “me, too.”

David Letterman had a regular feature on his show called, “George W. Bush…Liar.” After the intro to the bit, there’s a clip of the President saying, “It’s great to be back in (pause) Des Moines” (or wherever he is). To me this signifies the difficulty of being authentically present with your audience. I’d start by asking the politician if it really is “great” to be back in this community or with this audience. If so, why is that? If you dig long and deep enough, you just might find that there’s an historical event worth mentioning. Perhaps there’s a business whose success illustrates a point about your approach to economics. Maybe a plant closure illustrates a point too. But there must be some good reason to be nattering on with these folks, especially if you flew all day to get there. My advice is to find out what those reasons are and capitalize on them.

The politician who just gets up and parrots generally accepted values and principles misses an opportunity to offer a concrete message. The candidate who sings the praises of the local organizer or entrepreneur without getting specific is condescending and wasting everybody’s time. The local hero has a fascinating story and if s/he is worth mentioning, then it’s worth doing the hard research to tell the whole story. It will be a real moment, creating a lasting link between audience and speaker. Moreover, the candidate just might learn a little about local issues, politics and people.

In short, the litmus test of a really good political speech is that it can not be delivered by just anybody. It is custom tailored for a particular candidate. The speech also can not be delivered in any community to any audience at any time.

The next time you proof-read a speech, imagine if sections could have been delivered in the North, South, East or West. Would they have worked in a small town, as well as the big city? Can you hear three or four Presidents from both parties saying these words? Could you imagine the message working in your parent’s time? If so, you’ve got boiler plate and blather. As they used to say in old time newspapers—“Get me re-write!"