In defense of oratory

We live in dark days for public discourse.  The American contempt for “slick” politico speak has lead us to its pathetic polar opposite.

We have a President who makes up words to express “bigly” ideas–assuming that he’s actually trying to express such things–and much of what floats across our many screens seemingly has to be pared down to its bare bones to fit Twitter’s character limitations.  What that says of our collective character, I am reluctant to guess.  Suffice to say, the public use of the English language has seen better days.

What brought me to this particular rant (despite my feeling that I am writing this in a rather low-key tone, I suppose it still qualifies as such) was my experience in court on Tuesday, listening to a lawyer drone on and on and on and on… about … something or other.  It had to do with sanctions against his opponent.  I know that from when he started out, but things went off the rails after the first half hour.  The courthouse is a cornerstone of public discourse, and, if things are this bad there, we are in serious trouble, indeed.

It made me also look to the work of one of the great orators of the twentieth century, Sir Winston Churchill.  I recently saw the film “Darkest Hour,” for which Gary Oldman won the Best Actor Oscar for his portrayal of Churchill during the days of the Dunkirk evacuation and through his momentous speech to Parliament that every British schoolboy learns by heart.  Two things struck me upon seeing Oldman delivering Churchill’s words.

First, his delivery is significantly different from Churchill’s.  Oldman delivers the speech as a rallying cry.  He takes on the negatives—the cost of war (“We shall defend our island WHATEVER THE COST MAY BE!”) and resisting surrender (“We shall never SURRENDER!”)—with a bravado that was absent from Churchill’s, whose delivery sought to reassure a fearful nation.  The real Churchill’s speech was steeped in British stoicism.  It was grandfatherly in tone.  Rather than emphasizing those negative words—”cost” and “surrender”—Churchill focused on two words:  “fight” and “never,” empowering his people in a more subtle way.

The second thing that struck me is that both deliveries are effective.  Oldman’s rendition of Churchill’s speech, in the grand Hollywood tradition, makes one want to stand and cheer.  Churchill’s own, in contrast, steels one’s resolve.  But the power of the words themselves, however delivered, is inspiring, unifying, fortifying.  The words, as written, have astonishing power, but they are something that would never have been delivered in our current 280-character, say-it-in-a-photo-or-don’t-bother, and put-a-pair-of-cat-ears-on-it age.

To conclude, that is where I feel we have lost something.  The English language is a gift, and the written word is its finest hour.  Coarseness of language leads to coarseness of discourse—a loss of precision, concision, and ultimately, of ideas—in the public square.  Our reliance on fake communication like Twitter feeds, and Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat posts (never mind allegedly “fake news”) hobbles communication, handicaps understanding, and cripples grand tradition.  Language need be neither haughty nor Hollywood to make a point, but it needs to be well considered and well delivered.  I hope that we re-discover those gifts some time soon.