16 Little Words... Or Niger and the Narcissist

Nicholas Kristof has an interesting piece in the Times today about those 16 little words so much discussed in the States these days. I think he's right: the seriousness of the issue is not the error of Bush's statement about Iraq trying to buy uranium from Niger, but in the larger scale patterns of simplification to the point of dishonesty. To read the article, click here.

There's another issue at stake here, one that I've not seen discussed in any of the printed or televised commentaries on this whole fiasco, and it's one that needs to be addressed-- and that is the Dubya administration's schizophrenic attitude toward language. Dubya's administration has been one of the most profoundly lingo-istic (and jingoistic, for that matter, but that's another issue entirely) in recent memory, depending on buzz-words and appropriately modulated sound-bytes to strike home messages that supposedly legitimate their actions. Just think of them all, especially since 9/11: "weapons of mass destruction," "war or terrorism," "axis of evil," and so on and so forth. Perhaps more than any presidency since Reagan's, Dubya's presidency has depended for its expression of policy on what one might call concrete language nuggets, on words that cannot be misconstrued, on the language of black and white and right and wrong, on the polarizing effects of chiaroscuro rhetoric whereby you're either for us or against us, as the Prez has so often averred. This is a presidency that has not debated or engaged its opponents; it has used language not as a shield, or even as an epee, but as a rhetorical cosh to bully support.

To some extent, there is great care put into the election of such phrases, and the Dubya presidency obviously depends on their effects-- hence their constant repetition ad infinitum -- in the same way that a schoolyard bully bandies about words like 'nerd,' 'geek,' and 'girl' as pejorative terms meant to shame others for even questioning their authority. In one sense this is profoundly disturbing, but from a rhetorical standpoint it's fabulously effective-- just ask Reagan, Kennedy, Churchill, and, yes, Hitler. Words have power, as any good leader knows; but the difference between Dubya and say Clinton or Tony Blair (or Churchill or Kennedy) is this, that Dubya cannot depart comfortably from the prepared text, from the sound-bytes. Keep hammering the same words again and again and again, and the public will learn by rote, but do not, by any means, engage or tolerate debate, because engagement and debate begin the process of interrogating the value of those words, and if one does not fully accept the meaning of those words, they become impossible to defend. The defense ultimately becomes something akin to "Because I said so," or "Because that's the way it is," or "Listen, you're with me, or you're against me," and for the more intelligent, this is a very difficult rationale to accept.

But this leads to the other personality of Dubya's attitude toward language. Dubya avoids press conferences (or questions therein) because of this attitude, and it's this attitude that leads to some of the mind-bogglingly illiterate statements that he frequently makes. The fact is, Dubya does not understand (and does not appreciate) nuance, especially in relation to language; like an undergraduate, he wants the point, not the interrogation, not the larger dimensions of meaning and complexity. So, when the administration speaks, there remains the persistent desire to be able to retract, to apologize for, to undermine what has already been averred; not the nuggets, but the everyday speech. "Trust us on these things," they seem to say, "but don't bother us about other things we say. Don't make fun of us for our illiteracy, don't hold us to our previous statements, don't correct us on our inaccuracies. It's the general truth to believe, not the supplementary or component truths." It's a fundamentally irresponsible attitude toward language, to speak without even grammatical, logical, or phrasal accountability, let alone factual or political accountability. It reminds me all too well of the anecdote of the student with a bad essay who comes in swearing, 'I meant to say this,' but who didn't actually say that; so the teacher (in this case, me) desperately resists the temptation to say 'Well, I meant to give you an A, but I gave you a C, so there it is...."

Now admittedly all politicians want language to be mutable, to be able to retract and to modify, and even to change verbal horses. But in Dubya's case, language is both everything and nothing; it is in one sense the cornerstone of his presidency, and it is also his greatest weakness. Dubya is a good communicator, an effective vehicle for words when he is adequately-prepared, but rather like the actor-President he most emulates, he is an actor first and foremost; he is not an improvisor, and he is not a good speaker per se.

But the Dubya administration is ultimately felicitous in its attitude to language, and sees no reason to better or to discipline that attitude. This is not an administration concerned with articulating policy, engaging ideas, or clarifying issues; it is an administration that is more concerned with making sure people think what it wants people to think. And in this whole kafuffle, Dubya is little more than a kindergarten teacher-- not especially thoughtful, there by appointment, whose primary tasks are teaching by rote and keeping things from busting out of his control. The subsequent truth is this: think back on the things you were told in kindergarten, and how many of those things were indeed truths; it's all about basics not details, about myths rather than facts, expressed in the lowest-common-demoninative terms.

And this, from a president, is for me profundly disturbing, because it is ultimately less about intellectual engagement than it is about propping up the image of the president (not the presidency, by the way) as a moral authority without indeed earning it. This is a process of political narcissism; just sit there in class, children, and don't talk back, and, whatever you do, don't point out that the teacher may not know exactly what he's talking about. Just sit and nod, or you'll be in big trouble. All together now, children, "Yes, Mr. Bush." Even if the smarter among you know that potato is spelled without an 'e,' and that rhetoric is a weapon of mass destruction, too. Okay, nap time, children, and try not to notice that the Emperor-Teacher isn't wearing any clothes. (Wow.... that amounts to 16 little words, too.)