America Has Convention Fever
If you’re like me, you’re a little underwhelmed by results of the decision to allow political bloggers at the Democratic convention, because those results are almost nothing. There is little coming from these blogs, and what there is doesn’t seem to be aided by the bloggers’ emergence from their living rooms. One can only presume that they are too busy schmoozing at the traditional power centers, and that must be fun. There is also a lot of catering, and excellent R&B dance grooves between the speeches, although of course those of us at home are dancing up a storm too.
But the fact remains that even if the blogs can contribute little to the good feelings streaming out of Boston, the American people have picked up the charge of rhetoric. America, as it does every four years or so, has Convention Fever, and it’s apparent everywhere you look.
A candidate’s plans and policies are what’s important, but the way he or she explains and frames these plans in speeches is revealing not only of the approach and personality of the candidate, but how effective he or she might be at getting all that done. You need to be able to talk to people, to persuade. Convention speeches showcase your ability or its lack.
This year in Boston, the Democrats have hit incredible high notes each night: Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton on Monday, Ron Reagan and Barack Obama on Tuesday, Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson on Wednesday, and probably nobody tomorrow, unless you want to hear more about a certain patrol boat in the Vietnam War. To me, the greatest convention speech of all remains Mr. Jackson’s from 1988, perhaps because I’ve always felt my patch is not big enough.
But, caught up in the frenzy of American rhetoric on display this week, Americans are joining our participatory democracy in a new way: rhetoric, and powerful rhetoric, is entering the mainstream. Gone from our consciousness are unclear, lightweight catchphrases such as “I’m lovin’ it” and “Wasssssuuuup”. I took the Trouble Sells fuel-conscious S.U.V. around America, and everywhere I met orators.
A retiree at a lunch counter in Omaha, to a waitress: “I say, to you, today, as I have said again and again: I will have the chicken salad. There can be no other choice.”
A young mother in Seattle, to her child in a stroller: “We have struggled together, and we have suffered together, but all along the way our commitment has not wavered. With your help, with your support, and with your faith, I know we can achieve much together. Otherwise, and on this I wish to be clear, we will not stop for ice cream.”
A man to a woman, in a bar in Cincinnati, at closing time: “I remain resolute in my belief in a career of service, and I stand before you to say that with [Name Withheld], you are getting a man who takes pride, not only in his accomplishments, but in his reputation. I will not lie to you, I will not mislead you, and I promise here, before God and my fellow bar-goers, that I will call you the next day.”
I am proud to have been born in a country that values verbal persuasion and atmospherics so highly, even if only for a few days a year, and it is to my fellow rhetoricians that this blog entry, and my life, is dedicated.
God bless America.
by Jack, July 28, 2004 11:57 PM | More from Election 2004 | More from The Damned Human Race
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"I will have the chicken salad."
This is the kind of sick, divisive vitriol that political discourse has descended into, and makes me glad I don't live Omaha.