Brian Groom: Language a great leader makes
[Brian Groom is the FT’s comment and analysis editor.]
Whatever happened to the art of political phrase-making? The leaders of the developed world were on show this week at the Group of Eight summit in Toyako, Japan. Faced with the triple challenge of a food, oil and financial crisis, their response was as tongue-tied as it was ineffectual.
“We saw eye to eye,” was all Yasuo Fukuda, Japan’s prime minister, could muster as he sought to look positively at an outcome that merely voiced concern at rising oil prices and toyed with ideas on food shortages.
Ah, you may say, the problem lies with actions – or lack of them – not words. Summits are a hopeless way to resolve complicated problems. If you have nothing to say, say nothing. “ ‘Tis better to be silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt” (an unsourced remark sometimes attributed to Abraham Lincoln). Yet at times of stress, we still look to elected leaders to express our collective anxieties and stiffen resolve.
You would not trust the present generation to rise to the occasion. They are a motley bunch. Nicolas Sarkozy, the French president, has a directness that can be refreshing but it is more like a slashing blade than a rapier wit – whether he is promising to sweep racaille (scum) from the streets or blaming Peter Mandelson, European trade commissioner, for the No vote in the Irish referendum.
Silvio Berlusconi, Italy’s prime minister, is a good vaudeville turn but little more. His latest intervention was to describe a curving tower planned for Milan by Daniel Liebeskind, the architect, as “in need of Viagra”. When not mocking others he flirts with self-parody: “I’m the Jesus Christ of politics, I am a patient victim, I put up with everyone, I sacrifice myself for everyone.”
As for George W. Bush, many Americans must wish their president had heeded the advice on silence long ago. Politicians usually relish acquiring an “ism” – such as “Thatcherism” – but a Bushism is nothing to be proud of. There are dozens: “they misunderestimated me”; “I’m the master of low expectations”; “this foreign policy stuff is a little frustrating”. Given a decent script, even Mr Bush can sometimes stick to it, as in his address to the nation after the 9/11 terrorist attacks: “These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve.” He spoiled the effect three months later, saying in an end-year press release: “All in all, it’s been a fabulous year for Laura and me.”
Gordon Brown, Britain’s prime minister, was once regarded as a strong, if didactic, rhetorician. Now he has little to say. True, it is hard when your party has been in power more than 11 years, but Mr Brown has produced few memorable phrases in his career – apart from “prudence for a purpose”, “no return to Tory boom and bust” (a hostage to fortune) and “post neoclassical endogenous growth theory” (penned by his aide, Ed Balls). This week he likened himself to the brooding Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, which invited more sniggering derision.
Does any of this matter? Leaders with the sharpest tongues are not necessarily the most successful. Britain’s Harold Wilson, Labour prime minister, was a fine phrase-maker (“the gnomes of Zurich”; “a week is a long time in politics”; “this party is a moral crusade or it is nothing”) but ineffective in office. Conversely, US President Dwight Eisenhower governed successfully for two terms while doing or saying little that anyone can recall...
Read entire article at Financial Times (UK)
Whatever happened to the art of political phrase-making? The leaders of the developed world were on show this week at the Group of Eight summit in Toyako, Japan. Faced with the triple challenge of a food, oil and financial crisis, their response was as tongue-tied as it was ineffectual.
“We saw eye to eye,” was all Yasuo Fukuda, Japan’s prime minister, could muster as he sought to look positively at an outcome that merely voiced concern at rising oil prices and toyed with ideas on food shortages.
Ah, you may say, the problem lies with actions – or lack of them – not words. Summits are a hopeless way to resolve complicated problems. If you have nothing to say, say nothing. “ ‘Tis better to be silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt” (an unsourced remark sometimes attributed to Abraham Lincoln). Yet at times of stress, we still look to elected leaders to express our collective anxieties and stiffen resolve.
You would not trust the present generation to rise to the occasion. They are a motley bunch. Nicolas Sarkozy, the French president, has a directness that can be refreshing but it is more like a slashing blade than a rapier wit – whether he is promising to sweep racaille (scum) from the streets or blaming Peter Mandelson, European trade commissioner, for the No vote in the Irish referendum.
Silvio Berlusconi, Italy’s prime minister, is a good vaudeville turn but little more. His latest intervention was to describe a curving tower planned for Milan by Daniel Liebeskind, the architect, as “in need of Viagra”. When not mocking others he flirts with self-parody: “I’m the Jesus Christ of politics, I am a patient victim, I put up with everyone, I sacrifice myself for everyone.”
As for George W. Bush, many Americans must wish their president had heeded the advice on silence long ago. Politicians usually relish acquiring an “ism” – such as “Thatcherism” – but a Bushism is nothing to be proud of. There are dozens: “they misunderestimated me”; “I’m the master of low expectations”; “this foreign policy stuff is a little frustrating”. Given a decent script, even Mr Bush can sometimes stick to it, as in his address to the nation after the 9/11 terrorist attacks: “These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve.” He spoiled the effect three months later, saying in an end-year press release: “All in all, it’s been a fabulous year for Laura and me.”
Gordon Brown, Britain’s prime minister, was once regarded as a strong, if didactic, rhetorician. Now he has little to say. True, it is hard when your party has been in power more than 11 years, but Mr Brown has produced few memorable phrases in his career – apart from “prudence for a purpose”, “no return to Tory boom and bust” (a hostage to fortune) and “post neoclassical endogenous growth theory” (penned by his aide, Ed Balls). This week he likened himself to the brooding Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, which invited more sniggering derision.
Does any of this matter? Leaders with the sharpest tongues are not necessarily the most successful. Britain’s Harold Wilson, Labour prime minister, was a fine phrase-maker (“the gnomes of Zurich”; “a week is a long time in politics”; “this party is a moral crusade or it is nothing”) but ineffective in office. Conversely, US President Dwight Eisenhower governed successfully for two terms while doing or saying little that anyone can recall...