SAY HELLO TO James Alan Nelson, who arrived at 7:41 AM EST today. Mother and child are resting well; father is reevaluating existence, the forces of nature, and reality as he knows it (but all in a good way).

Condi Rice And The Confidence Markers

This is an archive post. I originally posted this piece on CommLog on April 9th, 2004, and have placed it here so I don't lose it in the dark recesses of the blogoshpere.

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CONDI RICE AND THE CONFIDENCE MARKERS

While most of the world was watching the Condoleeza Rice testimony yesterday for the political discourse, folks in our firm were watching the behavioral discourse, and in particular, the extent to which she projected “confidence markers.”

Confidence markers are the relatively small set of verbal and nonverbal behaviors that communicate certainty to an audience. They also strongly contribute to persuasiveness, and they’re well documented in the interpersonal communication literature. What’s important is that they’re all behaviors a speaker can focus on and control, which is why we tell clients confidence isn’t something you feel as much as it’s something you project.

So what are the confidence markers? We break them into two groups: verbal and nonverbal. Verbal markers include:

• Intense Language: The degree to which language deviates from neutrality. “Overwhelmed” is more intense than “influenced”; “horrified” is more intense than “scared.”

• Vivid Detail: Information can be characterized as vivid to the extent it is concrete, image-provoking, emotionally interesting, and personally relevant. The key is the degree of detail present in the information. “I pored over the weekly, monthly, and quarterly reports,” rather than, “I reviewed the relevant materials.”

• Strong Qualifiers: Terms that increase or emphasize the certainty of a claim. “Undoubtedly,” “surely,” “absolutely,” “without question.”

Nonverbal confidence markers include:

• Tempo and Tempo Variation: Moderate to relatively faster rates and varying the rate of speaking conveys confidence.

• Vocal Variety: Interest in the topic and clarity of meaning are facilitated by variety in pitch and intonation.

• Maintaining and Balancing Eye Contact: Attributions of confidence and trustworthiness increase when a speaker engages in longer lasting, direct eye contact and spreads eye contact evenly with every member of the audience.

• Facial Expressiveness and Smiles: Facial activity, as long as it does not undermine a generally serious expression, is associated with high levels of confidence.

Just as there are markers that project confidence, there are also markers that project diffidence, or uncertainty. They include:

• Nonwords: The excessive use of verbal hesitations or meaningless participles that make the speaker appear powerless and ineffective. “Uh,” “um,” “okay,” “you know,” “like.”

• Hedges: Qualifying statements that reduce the force of an assertion by allowing for exceptions or avoiding strong commitments. “I think,” “maybe,” “I hope,” “sort of.”

• Empty Adjectives and Adverbial Intensifiers: Terms that detract from, rather than enhance, the words they modify. “Good,” “cute,” and “interesting” are examples of empty adjectives. “Very,” “rather,” and “quite” are examples of empty adverbial intensifiers.

• Vocal Monotone: Lack of intonation, often accompanied by low volume, results in an overly formal, “presentational” speaking style.

• Absence of Gestures: The lack of gesturing or the rigid or repetitive use of hands indicates uncertainty. Examples include fiddling with pens, rings, pointers, tentative gestures below the waist, or a complete lack of hand or arm movement.

Our take on the Rice testimony was “lots of diffidence markers, and not many confidence markers,” and it was no surprise to us that much of the punditry this morning was “she stuck to her guns, but wasn’t very persuasive.” Her vocal variety was relatively monotone, she used few gestures, and in particular, she used many non-words, hedges, and weak qualifiers. Compare her testimony, which you may see here, to that of Richard Clarke, which you may see here (second listing on the page), and you’ll see a difference.

On Red States, Competing Narratives, And More ...

This is an archive post. I originally posted this piece on Command Post on November 3rd, 2004, and have placed it here so I don't lose it in the dark recesses of the blogoshpere.

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ON RED STATES, COMPETING NARRATIVES, AND MORE ...

I’m going to do something which, if memory serves, I have yet to do at Command Post … I’m going to post original writing on the Op-Ed page (those other Op-Eds have been from Alan E. Brain, a different Alan altogether … I’m the co-founder, he’s the rock-solid Australian contributor).

For me Command Post has always been about Journalism By The People, For The People, and not about a platform for my own writing, so I’ve stayed away from this page. Today, though, perhaps because of my closeness to the news, my participation in the two conventions, and my unwillingness to publicly impose my “side” on others, I’ve been asked all morning about my take on the election. And so while I traditionally eschew self-punditry here, this time, I actually do have something I’d like to share.

So here goes …

I’ll start with an email I received this morning … one typical of the queries I’ve received throughout the day:

I don’t know if you care about what I have to say or not, but I have to share this with other election watchers.

1. The moral majority is bigger than I knew, it has spoken, and I am afraid.
2. David Gergen has one of the best quotes of the night at around 1am on CNN.  I’m paraphrasing - Democrats will wake up on Wednesday and feel alone, isolated and wonder what America they’re living in.

I’ll post here the gist of my reply.

Yes, the Democrats awake in a strange and foreign land … a land with Red as far as the eye can see. But frankly, I don’t think the moral majority is the issue. If anything, it’s an oversimplification in explaining the election. I just don’t believe that there are that many people who voted Republican based on gay marriage and abortion … at least, not appreciably more than voted Democrat on the same issues.

For the Democrats I think the reality is worse than that: The Democratic party has lost its ability to connect, in a compelling way, with much of middle (read, “average”) America. Operationally, they’re still planning strategy as if the GOP is the party of the wealthy and powerful. But look at the distribution of votes last night … the huge swaths of Red nearly everywhere where major cities are absent … and it’s clear the GOP isn’t the party of the Country Club, it’s the party of the Rotary Club.

Of course, discourse like this doesn’t help:

Why were we in this fight in the first place? Because terrible leaders are doing terrible things to our country and calling this wonderful. Because radical reactionaries are trying to impose their imperialist schemes on whoever they wish and calling this just. Because amoral oligarchs are determined to enhance their slice of the economic pie and calling this the natural order. Because flag-wrapped ideologues want to chop up civil liberties and call this security. Because myopians are in charge of America’s future.

That sort of language simply doesn’t resonate with large numbers of “average” folks in any town in America. What’s worse, the sentiment, “I know better than you and you’re just not bright enough to see it,” strikes as snobbish and elitist, and alienates the Rotary Club.

The fact is that the Republicans have a philosophy … a narrative … that works for lots of people who disagree with the President on gay marriage and abortion. That narrative: we’ll let you keep more of your money, we’ll keep you safe internationally through strength, and we’ll keep government off your back.

It’s an old Republican narrative. Ronald Reagan first articulated it in his Goldwater endorsement speech (“A Time Of Choosing”) in 1964:

This is the issue of this election: Whether we believe in our capacity for self-government or whether we abandon the American revolution and confess that a little intellectual elite in a far-distant capitol can plan our lives for us better than we can plan them ourselves.

You and I are told increasingly we have to choose between a left or right. Well I’d like to suggest there is no such thing as a left or right. There’s only an up or down — [up] man’s old — old-aged dream, the ultimate in individual freedom consistent with law and order, or down to the ant heap of totalitarianism. And regardless of their sincerity, their humanitarian motives, those who would trade our freedom for security have embarked on this downward course.

In this vote-harvesting time, they use terms like the “Great Society,” or as we were told a few days ago by the President, we must accept a greater government activity in the affairs of the people. But they’ve been a little more explicit in the past and among themselves; and all of the things I now will quote have appeared in print. These are not Republican accusations. For example, they have voices that say, “The cold war will end through our acceptance of a not undemocratic socialism.” Another voice says, “The profit motive has become outmoded. It must be replaced by the incentives of the welfare state.” Or, “Our traditional system of individual freedom is incapable of solving the complex problems of the 20th century.” Senator Fullbright has said at Stanford University that the Constitution is outmoded. He referred to the President as “our moral teacher and our leader,” and he says he is “hobbled in his task by the restrictions of power imposed on him by this antiquated document.” He must “be freed,” so that he “can do for us” what he knows “is best.” And Senator Clark of Pennsylvania, another articulate spokesman, defines liberalism as “meeting the material needs of the masses through the full power of centralized government.”

Well, I, for one, resent it when a representative of the people refers to you and me, the free men and women of this country, as “the masses.” This is a term we haven’t applied to ourselves in America. But beyond that, “the full power of centralized government” — this was the very thing the Founding Fathers sought to minimize. They knew that governments don’t control things. A government can’t control the economy without controlling people. And they know when a government sets out to do that, it must use force and coercion to achieve its purpose. They also knew, those Founding Fathers, that outside of its legitimate functions, government does nothing as well or as economically as the private sector of the economy.

Old, but still relevant. Indeed, you have to work awfully hard to find a Democratic narrative that can compare … that isn’t simply “we’re not what the Republicans are.” The fact is: there IS no compelling Democratic counter-narrative. Witness Mother Jones:

It’s plain why this [the Republican] story works as well as it does. It presents a classic hero and a journey that reaches down through the brain into the gut. And Republicans can translate it into simple, clear lines of action: Wage war and don’t stop. Cut taxes. Put bad guys in jail, or to death.

Many on the left harbor the delusion that Republicans can be dislodged by criticism of this story. There are two main styles of critique. The first is ironic and humorous (see Al Franken). The second style is serious and raging, bordering on caustic (see Tim Robbins’ “Embedded.”)

But, by definition, critics are at the margins. However loud they shout from the sidelines, they’ll never get in the game. The game is for those who can tell a story …

… What’s the [Democratic] story here? It puts forth two main characters: There’s this greedy, powerful character named “Special Interest” who has been kicking ass! Special Interest runs the political and corporate worlds. Hell, Special Interest runs the world. S/he has a penthouse in Trump Tower, a chalet on Aspen Mountain and a ranch in Montana. S/he spends the morning on the phone with Wall Street, making a few billion, and the afternoon on the phone with Washington, making the money tax-free. Then, at night …

Up against “Special Interest” is a perennial loser called “Everyday American.” Loser has a nagging spouse and impeccably average kids and a long commute to and from a cubicle. At home, the toilet leaks but it’s hard to find a decent plumber. The cell phone keeps blinking out, but the new ones are so expensive. But then again, Loser thinks, “I’m worth it.” So s/he logs onto to Internet — wants to save the sales tax — and goes to bed excited, wondering whether UPS will take two or three days, and whether there will be someone at home to sign for the package, and whether s/he is as truly, deeply pathetic as it seems.

Which of these characters would you rather be? John Kerry and Bob Shrum don’t condescend to give you the choice. They tell you, “You’re Loser.” You secretly hate them for this. You may hate their opponents more, and vote for Kerry with clenched teeth. Or you may vote for Nader (at five points in the May Gallup poll). Or you may (like huge chunks of the core Democratic constituency) just not vote.

Whereas the right-wing has a good story that they believe, liberals have a lame story—and they don’t even believe it.

Last night Bob Novak said that the Democrats are now “in the wilderness.” Regardless of the good Electoral College showing of John Kerry, the whole damn country is Red … the White House, the Senate, the House, the Supreme Court, the Governorships, local legislatures, school boards. But it’s not uncharted territory … the Republicans were in the wilderness when LBJ demolished Goldwater (and the entire Republican party) in 1964 … a time when people wondered if the Republicans would ever win a national election again.

The Democrats can find their way back, but they first must craft the compelling narrative … the political philosophy that will be relevant to Rotary members all across this land: We believe in this land no man is a loser … that everyone has potential. And if times get tough, which they will, we’ll be there to give you a hand up, but never a hand out. Oh … and we’ll keep you safe, too might be a start. Clinton had that narrative nailed … but when he left office, the narrative left with him.

Before the DNC I heard Mark Shields note that Reagan said his inspiration was FDR, and that the next great Democratic leader will say his inspiration was Ronald Reagan. He’s right. The Democrats are never going to get America to come to them; they must go to America … an America that has changed from when it considered the Democratic Party the party of the “average” man, as it did in 1964. They must articulate a clear and compelling political philosophy and narrative … here’s what we stand for! … and must then leave their ivory tower and go to the field … spreading that compelling narrative one school board race … one Rotary Club … at a time.

The DNC, The RNC, And The False Choice

This is an archive post. I originally posted this piece on another, and now dormant, weblog on July 25th, 2004, and have placed it here so I don't lose it in the dark recesses of the blogoshpere.

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THE DNC, THE RNC, AND THE FALSE CHOICE

The 1964 RNC in San Francisco was an interesting convention for the Republicans. Barry Goldwater and William Miller were the ticket, Goldwater gave a convention speech that is regarded as one of the 100 best American political speeches of that century, and pandemonium repeatedly broke out on the convention floor.

One of the people reporting this pandemonium was legendary journalist John Chancellor, who, in a moment made instantly famous by the images of television, said as he was physically removed from the floor, “Here we go down the middle aisle … I’ve been promised bail, ladies and gentlemen, by my office. This is John Chancellor, somewhere in custody.”

It was an important moment in journalism: a staid institution, the RNC, was attempting to control a new medium and was quickly learning it could not … that ultimately, they had to embrace a medium they could no longer control. It was a stark contrast to the DNC just four years later, when TV openly captured every hostile and shocking moment in Chicago, and conventions (and the world for that matter) changed for forever.

I think of that moment, John Chancellor being lifted from his feet, radio on his back, wires dangling, as I consider the invitation of bloggers by the DNC (a path the RNC, we presume, we follow). We’re quite the story this year, we few credentialed bloggers. I’ve had two reporters tell me that they believe we’re the story in Boston, the “hot house flowers” in an otherwise “news-less convention,” as one said, forecasting “about a billion cameras” at the blogger breakfast tomorrow morning (sorry I’ll miss it … I’ll explain later).

My response, though, was that we’re NOT the real story here. The real story is not that the Political Machine decided to officially extend access to citizen journalists by extending a select few press credentials … the real story is that they already, although unknowingly, had.

At last count, there are 11 DNC delegates or DNC officials, with full access to the convention, who also happen to blog:

• Karl-Thomas Musselman, a 19-year-old delegate from Texas
• Cate Read, Texas delegate
• Greg Rodriguez, of the Washington state delegation
• Kabir Sehgal, part of Georgia delegation and an aide to Sen. Max Cleland
• Jenny Greenleaf (Delegate - OR)
• John Howes (Delegate - WA)
• Christina Ocasio (Delegate - TX)
• John Burns (Platform committee - NC)
• Mike aka TOPDOG04 (Delegate - NY)
• Erik Cornelius at the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee
• Brian Reich, who is overseeing the Democratic News Service

One would expect that these bloggers, especially the mainstream delegates, will blog the convention. And it’s here that we find the main point: the decision to extend press credentials to select bloggers was a false choice … the convention in Boston was going to be blogged, from the floor and by citizens with no editorial board, whether I or any other blogger received credentials or not. I presume the same will be true in New York this August.

I’m not saying the credentialing decision wasn’t significant … it did give a small group of non-professional, non-party-official citizens a window into a forum not otherwise available, and it does indicate that blogs have achieved a form of legitimacy among the media. But the REAL sign of the medium’s legitimacy isn’t that we were given the opportunity … it’s that the opportunity is purely symbolic in its importance.

In 1964, the Republicans learned that, try as they might, the time in which they could choose their level of TV news inclusion had long passed. The same is true for the DNC and RNC for blogs forty years later. It doesn’t matter if I or Dave Winer or anybody else is there … blogger delegates already will be, and will be with greater access than any of us.

To me, this false choice is the real indication that blogging has “arrived.” We’re becoming pervasive. In time, no forum of significance will be a forum without a blogger, and the result will be even greater transparency, openness, and democratization of information. And the convention committees aren’t the only ones facing the consequences: all staid institutions face the same false choice … we saw it in Iraq, and we’ll increasingly see it in China, Iran, Microsoft, and the Pentagon.

The printing press made us readers, the personal computer made us writers, and now, with weblogs, the Internet is making us reporters. The conventions will be blogged … of course they will … whether the DNC and RNC wish it or not, and they can never again remove the reporters from the floor.

Confidence

This is an archive post. I originally posted this piece on another, and now dormant, weblog on June 6th, 2004, and have placed it here so I don't lose it in the dark recesses of the blogoshpere.

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CONFIDENCE

When I was 17 or so, I was ranting about some piece of US foreign policy when my father looked at me with level eyes and said, “Buddy, if you’re not a liberal when you’re 18 you got no heart, and if you’re not a conservative by the time you’re 28 you got no brain.”

Reagan was president then, and I was not a big fan. Now that I’m well into my mid-30s (“middle aged,” my wife says), I’ve come to appreciate and admire Reagan. He was the essential optimist at a time in which America desperately needed optimism. At a time when Jimmy Carter was telling us we should be confident, Reagan gave us reasons to be confident, and led the way through his own confidence and optimism. Many presidents have spoken of the shining city on the hill; Reagan truly believed in it.

I’ve also come to admire Reagan for his fundamental belief in the power of rhetoric … rhetoric in the classical sense, not the current and bastardized sense of double talk by evasive politicians. Reagan understood and respected the power of his words, and he understood better than anyone since FDR (yes, better than Kennedy) the power of presidential discourse in making great things possible.

Reagan has six speeches listed in American Rhetoric’s list of the 100 most significant American political speeches of the 20th century (the list was complied by two professors of Rhetoric and Communication, who asked 137 leading scholars of American public address to recommend speeches on the basis of social and political impact, and rhetorical artistry):

• The “A Time for Choosing” speech, 1964
• His first inaugural address (the “Putting American Back to Work” speech)
• The “Evil Empire” speech, 1983
• The “Boys of Pointe du Hoc” speech, 40th D-Day anniversary, 1984
• The “Space Shuttle Challenger” address, 1986
• The “Tear Down This Wall” speech, 1987

Only FDR and JFK have as many on the list. Some people, though, try to taint Reagan’s oratory as less substantive than some of his predecessors. These people remember him as the Actor President, noting with a curled lip that Reagan was all sizzle and no steak. But they forget that his most noted speeches were policy speeches wrapped in soaring oratory, and not soaring oratory alone.

Let’s take them one at a time.

The Time for Choosing speech, a campaign address in support of Barry Goldwater during the 1964 campaign, is actually in speech in which Reagan outlines what would become the Republican agenda 20 years later: the importance of small government over large, of empowering individuals to pursue their own interests, and of preserving America as “the last best hope for man on Earth” through winning the Cold War. He said that day:

You and I know and do not believe that life is so dear and peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery. If nothing in life is worth dying for, when did this begin—just in the face of this enemy? Or should Moses have told the children of Israel to live in slavery under the pharaohs? Should Christ have refused the cross? Should the patriots at Concord Bridge have thrown down their guns and refused to fire the shot heard ‘round the world? The martyrs of history were not fools, and our honored dead who gave their lives to stop the advance of the Nazis didn’t die in vain. Where, then, is the road to peace? Well, it’s a simple answer after all.

You and I have the courage to say to our enemies, “There is a price we will not pay.” There is a point beyond which they must not advance. This is the meaning in the phrase of Barry Goldwater’s “peace through strength.” Winston Churchill said that “the destiny of man is not measured by material computation. When great forces are on the move in the world, we learn we are spirits—not animals.” And he said, “There is something going on in time and space, and beyond time and space, which, whether we like it or not, spells duty.”

You and I have a rendezvous with destiny. We will preserve for our children this, the last best hope of man on Earth, or we will sentence them to take the last step into a thousand years of darkness.

The “Putting America Back to Work” speech is remembered first as an eloquent and vital inaugural address, but in it Reagan declared his intentions to reduce the size of the federal government, return power to the states, reduce taxes, strengthen the country’s ties with its allies, and act with force in the world if required. This speech also closes with these lines, some of the greatest presidential rhetoric ever spoken:

This is the first time in our history that this ceremony has been held, as you’ve been told, on this West Front of the Capitol.

Standing here, one faces a magnificent vista, opening up on this city’s special beauty and history. At the end of this open mall are those shrines to the giants on whose shoulders we stand. Directly in front of me, the monument to a monumental man. George Washington, father of our country. A man of humility who came to greatness reluctantly. He led America out of revolutionary victory into infant nationhood. Off to one side, the stately memorial to Thomas Jefferson. The Declaration of Independence flames with his eloquence. And then beyond the Reflecting Pool, the dignified columns of the Lincoln Memorial. Whoever would understand in his heart the meaning of America will find it in the life of Abraham Lincoln.

Beyond those moments, monuments to heroism is the Potomac River, and on the far shore the sloping hills of Arlington National Cemetery with its row upon row of simple white markers bearing crosses or Stars of David. They add up to only a tiny fraction of the price that has been paid for our freedom.

Each on of those markers is a monument to the kind of hero I spoke of earlier. Their lives ended in places called Belleau Wood, the Argonne, Omaha Beach, Salerno and halfway around the world on Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Pork Chop Hill, the Chosin Reservoir, and in a hundred rice paddies and jungles of a place called Vietnam. Under such a marker lies a young man, Martin Treptow, who left his job in a small town barber shop in 1917 to go to France with the famed Rainbow Division.

There, on the Western front, he was killed trying to carry a message between battalions under heavy fire.

We are told that on his body was found a diary. On the flyleaf under the heading, “My Pledge,” he had written these words: “America must win this war. Therefore I will work, I will save, I will sacrifice, I will endure, I will fight cheerfully and do my utmost, as if the issue of the whole struggle depended on me alone.”

The crisis we are facing today does not require of us the kind of sacrifice that Martin Treptow and so many thousands of others were called upon to make. It does require, however, our best effort, and our willingness to believe in ourselves and to believe in our capacity to perform great deeds; to believe that together with God’s help we can and will resolve the problems which now confront us.

And after all, why shouldn’t we believe that? We are Americans.

Compare those words to these from Carter’s “Crisis of Confidence” speech …

We are at a turning point in our history. There are two paths to choose. One is a path I’ve warned about tonight, the path that leads to fragmentation and self-interest. Down that road lies a mistaken idea of freedom, the right to grasp for ourselves some advantage over others. That path would be one of constant conflict between narrow interests ending in chaos and immobility. It is a certain route to failure.

All the traditions of our past, all the lessons of our heritage, all the promises of our future point to another path — the path of common purpose and the restoration of American values. That path leads to true freedom for our nation and ourselves. We can take the first steps down that path as we begin to solve our energy problem.

Energy will be the immediate test of our ability to unite this nation, and it can also be the standard around which we rally. On the battlefield of energy we can win for our nation a new confidence, and we can seize control again of our common destiny.

The answer to America’s crisis of confidence is … energy policy? Compare these two speeches and the difference between telling Americans to be confident and giving them a reason for confidence should be clear.

I vividly remember the Evil Empire speech, and in particular I remember thinking “this maniac is trying to get us all killed.” But what Reagan was doing in this speech before evangelical Christians was sending a message to the Soviets that the policy of the United States would not be one of a nuclear freeze … that to do so would reward the USSR for its military buildup. Reagan knew the Soviets supported a freeze because it would freeze their military advantage, and more important, would free their economy from an arms race they could not afford. In this speech he was letting the Soviets know he knew, and that he wasn’t going to fall for it.

We will never give away our freedom. We will never abandon our belief in God. And we will never stop searching for a genuine peace. But we can assure none of these things America stands for through the so-called nuclear freeze solutions proposed by some.

The truth is that a freeze now would be a very dangerous fraud, for that is merely the illusion of peace. The reality is that we must find peace through strength.

I would agree to a freeze if only we could freeze the Soviets’ global desires. A freeze at current levels of weapons would remove any incentive for the Soviets to negotiate seriously in Geneva and virtually end our chances to achieve the major arms reductions which we have proposed. Instead, they would achieve their objectives through the freeze.

A freeze would reward the Soviet Union for its enormous and unparalleled military buildup. It would prevent the essential and long overdue modernization of United States and allied defenses and would leave our aging forces increasingly vulnerable. And an honest freeze would require extensive prior negotiations on the systems and numbers to be limited and on the measures to ensure effective verification and compliance. And the kind of a freeze that has been suggested would be virtually impossible to verify. Such a major effort would divert us completely from our current negotiations on achieving substantial reductions.

He was also letting his allies and enemies know the gravity he attached to the Cold War: that he saw it not simply as an imperial arms race, but as a battle of philosophy regarding the freedom and potential of man. He was saying to his peers worldwide: “Liberty=Good, Totalitarianism=Bad, and I’m never going to forget it, so don’t ever expect me to let up on the pressure.”

The “Boys of Pointe du Hoc” speech, which Reagan gave 20 years ago today at the 40th D-Day anniversary in 1984, is one of his most eloquent. But this too was a policy speech. After showering appropriate praise upon the Rangers who climbed those cliffs 60 years ago, Reagan let the USSR and western Europe know that the policy of the United States would be to welcome improved relations with the Soviets, but that they must first change their ways. As he said then:

It’s fitting to remember here the great losses also suffered by the Russian people during World War II: 20 million perished, a terrible price that testifies to all the world the necessity of ending war. I tell you from my heart that we in the United States do not want war. We want to wipe from the face of the earth the terrible weapons that man now has in his hands. And I tell you, we are ready to seize that beachhead. We look for some sign from the Soviet Union that they are willing to move forward, that they share our desire and love for peace, and that they will give up the ways of conquest. There must be a changing there that will allow us to turn our hope into action.

It was then that he articulated the second point of policy: than until that change came, the US would actively strengthen the NATO alliance.

The “Space Shuttle Challenger” address was poetry, not policy, but it demonstrated the power of the president to salve our wounds during times of national grief … perhaps the most eloquent such example since Lincoln’s second inaugural address. Even here, though, he offered vision and outlined our direction as a nation:

And I want to say something to the schoolchildren of America who were watching the live coverage of the shuttle’s take-off. I know it’s hard to understand, but sometimes painful things like this happen. It’s all part of the process of exploration and discovery. It’s all part of taking a chance and expanding man’s horizons. The future doesn’t belong to the fainthearted; it belongs to the brave. The Challenger crew was pulling us into the future, and we’ll continue to follow them.

I’ve always had great faith in and respect for our space program. And what happened today does nothing to diminish it. We don’t hide our space program. We don’t keep secrets and cover things up. We do it all up front and in public. That’s the way freedom is, and we wouldn’t change it for a minute.

We’ll continue our quest in space. There will be more shuttle flights and more shuttle crews and, yes, more volunteers, more civilians, more teachers in space. Nothing ends here; our hopes and our journeys continue.

Finally, the “Tear Down This Wall” speech, delivered in 1987. This speech represents the third element of what, along with the Evil Empire and Pointe du Hoc speeches, became a triumvirate of Cold War policy addresses by Reagan. That day he said:

We hear much from Moscow about a new policy of reform and openness. Some political prisoners have been released. Certain foreign news broadcasts are no longer being jammed. Some economic enterprises have been permitted to operate with greater freedom from state control. Are these the beginnings of profound changes in the Soviet state? Or are they token gestures, intended to raise false hopes in the West, or to strengthen the Soviet system without changing it? We welcome change and openness; for we believe that freedom and security go together, that the advance of human liberty can only strengthen the cause of world peace.

There is one sign the Soviets can make that would be unmistakable, that would advance dramatically the cause of freedom and peace. General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace , if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization: Come here to this gate! Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!

In Europe, only one nation and those it controls refuse to join the community of freedom. Yet, in this age of redoubled economic growth, of information and innovation, the Soviet Union faces a choice: It must make fundamental changes, or it will become obsolete. Today thus represents a moment of hope. We in the West stand ready to cooperate with the East to promote true openness, to break down barriers that separate people, to create a safer, freer world.

In this speech he completes his Cold War storyline: from we believe totalitarianism is evil and a threat we’re not afraid to fight (Evil Empire) to we’ll welcome you into the fold but you have to give up the fight (Pointe du Hoc) to the conclusion—now is the time; join us in creating a better world for people everywhere, and use Berlin as a symbol of your good intentions. And we now know that the storyline he offered is precisely, and not coincidentally, how history eventually unfolded: from standoff to cautious engagement to reconciliation and partnership.

Ronald Reagan believed words were important … that they meant something and should always be taken seriously. He believed that presidential discourse was more than political discourse, it was a means of getting things done: of shaping America, of articulating vision and charting direction, and of pressurizing the social and political system to achieve grand outcomes.

He knew that once a president of the United States says something, the toothpaste is out of the tube. Rather than fear that finality, he used his oratory with courage and conviction, making declarations that gave us reason to feel better about being Americans, that initiated paths of policy that led toward outcomes he desired, and that ultimately led us closer to that shining city on the hill.

In 1995, Ronald Reagan wrote a letter to the American people announcing he had contracted Alzheimer’s disease:

My fellow Americans, I have recently been told that I am one of the millions of Americans who will be afflicted with Alzheimer’s disease.

Upon learning this news, Nancy and I had to decide whether as private citizens we would keep this a private matter or whether we would make this news known in a public way.

In the past, Nancy suffered from breast cancer and I had cancer surgeries. We found through our open disclosures we were able to raise public awareness. We were happy that as a result many more people underwent testing. They were treated in early stages and able to return to normal, healthy lives.

So now we feel it is important to share it with you. In opening our hearts, we hope this might promote greater awareness of this condition. Perhaps it will encourage a clear understanding of the individuals and families who are affected by it.

At the moment, I feel just fine. I intend to live the remainder of the years God gives me on this earth doing the things I have always done. I will continue to share life’s journey with my beloved Nancy and my family. I plan to enjoy the great outdoors and stay in touch with my friends and supporters.

Unfortunately, as Alzheimer’s disease progresses, the family often bears a heavy burden. I only wish there was some way I could spare Nancy from this painful experience. When the time comes, I am confident that with your help she will face it with faith and courage.

In closing, let me thank you, the American people, for giving me the great honor of allowing me to serve as your president. When the Lord calls me home, whenever that may be, I will leave the greatest love for this country of ours and eternal optimism for its future.

I now begin the journey that will lead me into the sunset of my life. I know that for America there will always be a bright dawn ahead.

Thank you, my friends.

Though never spoken, this text was the ultimate entry in Reagan’s oral history. And even in the end … indeed, in his very last line of public address … he reminded us of his confidence in us and our future. Here’s hoping he rests in peace and sunshine.

Only Here

This is an archive post. I originally posted this piece on another, and now dormant, weblog on January 31st, 2004, and have placed it here so I don't lose it in the dark recesses of the blogoshpere.

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ONLY HERE

Some things are quintessentially Philadelphian. The Eagles reaching the NFC Championship game three years running and never breaking through is a perfect example: lots of energy, lots of hope, just a taste of insecurity, and in the end, no prize.

Maybe it’s because the city sits between the glamour of New York and the power of Washington … maybe it’s because Philly is, in its soul, still a blue collar labor town … but the vibe here is still very much the vibe of the “cutters” … the kids in Breaking Away who never went to college, instead working in the local quarry or mill, and who look at their college-attending peers with a mix of longing and disgust.

The cutters make up for their edge of insecurity, of course … by living larger than the college kids could hope to live. And so do people here. How else do you explain something like the Mummers? And in that spirit, yesterday Philadelphia enjoyed an event which I consider the most Philadelphian of Philadelphia stories: Wing Bowl XII — 24,000 Philadelpians crowding the Wachovia Center to watch the Buffalo Wing eating competition to end all Buffalo Wing eating competitions. We don’t got no Super Bowl, but by God, we got this. Read about it here, and here, and here, or watch video here, and be properly amazed.

One Bloogle Of Separation

This is an archive post. I originally posted this piece on another, and now dormant, weblog on October 6th, 2003, and have placed it here so I don't lose it in the dark recesses of the blogoshpere.

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ONE BLOOGLE OF SEPARATION

On August 7th of this year I posted The Fine Edge, an account of a hike Wife and I made to Utah’s Catherine Pass and Sunset Peak. Notable about the hike, other than the extraordinary scenery, was that a search was underway in the area for another Utah hiker, Micah Clark, who had been missing for several days. They found Micah’s body later that day very near where we had tread. I wrote at the time:

Yesterday afternoon we learned that they found Micah’s body about 1:00 P.M., about one mile from his truck at the trailhead, which would put his location at Catherine’s Pass and Sunset Peak. It’s very possible that the whistles I heard were the alert of the party, calling the others to note that they had found his camera and tripod. I suppose I won’t know.

Yesterday, at times, on the ridgeline trail, we were very close to the edge. While the trail itself is not dangerous, a slip could have resulted in easy tragedy. Somewhere along the way, either on the trail or just off it, Micah Clark slipped. He came prepared, walked where we walked, traced the same trails others had traced, and slipped where others did not.

For me there was a message in yesterday’s experience … not one of melodrama, but one of a simple reminder: Each day we walk the ridgeline, the margin between meadow and 800-foot exposure, the margin between fortune and misfortune. It is a fine edge.

Artists and authors have cast this message with greater justice than can I, but the message remains, and it was as tangible for me yesterday as it was 12 years ago when I absent-mindedly stepped off the curve and into Salt Lake City traffic, as it was the morning of September 11th, 2001, when I had the good fortune board a commercial flight that arrived safely at its destination. Each day we walk the fine edge. People slip. We should hold those whom we cherish close to our heart.

Again, I wrote that post on August 7th (read the entire thing here), and on September 17th I received an automated email noting that a comment had been added to the post. The comment read:

Alan: I happened across your story “The Fine Edge” quite by accident. It is beautifully written and reduced me to tears as I read about Micah. It brought back all the tender feelings of those days up on the mountain as we waited, hoped, and prayed for him. I am Micah’s mother. I wanted you to know that he was a good man with a kind and generous heart. His love of the outdoors has given me a new appreciation for nature, as I now try to see things through his eyes. We miss him so very much. Thank you for your account of that day. May I ask…who are you and what is Avocare?

I was shocked when I read the comment, speechless for a moment until I managed an “Oh my God” to Wife. I took a few moments to consider a response, and then emailed a long reply to Renita Clark, expressing my sincere condolences for her loss, and attempting to explain Avocare, weblogs, and why her web search had revealed a story about her son, written by a stranger whom neither she nor he had met, published on a website unaffiliated with any professional organization. In part I wrote:

I wrote the post about Micah for the same reasons I write about nearly any post: I come across an item, or a vista, or an experience, which I simply feel I should share with others. Micah’s story was one I connected with, in part because I have spent countless hours hiking in the Wasatch or the desert alone … not something that many people would do, but which Micah clearly loved. The fact that I had made that hike alone several times before; added to the fact that we were hiking on the day Micah was found made the experience even more powerful for me.

I again thank you for your comment and kind words. I hope you don’t mind that I wrote of my experience … if you are at all uncomfortable with the story being on the web, I’m more that willing to remove the post … just let me know.

A few days passed before I received Renita’s reply. She was kind and considerate, noting:

I don’t mind at all that you wrote of your experience up on the mountain that day. I’m actually very glad you did…it offers a whole new perspective. It’s comforting for me to know that even in death Micah has touched others. Hundreds came to his funeral and the gathering the night before, and told us how Micah had impacted their lives for good throughout the years. For a mother to know that she has sent home a good and honorable son, it is a great blessing.

I am going to be putting together a memorial booklet for family and Micah’s closest friends. I would like to include your story “The Fine Edge” if it’s okay with you. Please let me know.

I said “yes,” of course, and in our last exchange of emails told Renita that I felt this entire experience was remarkable, and that if she wouldn’t object I’d like to try and capture it in another post. Here’s her full reply:

Alan,

By all means, please write the post you mentioned.  I will be anxious to read it.

Isn’t it amazing that by the simple act of typing “Micah Clark hiker” into the search engine, I would find your beautiful story? I can’t tell you how my heart was touched. How curious is it, that because my son died, two otherwise strangers would have reason to correspond?

A group of Micah’s friends and family climbed to the site of his death this past Saturday and planted a tree in his memory. I read them your story … it was so appropriate …. and it touched their hearts as well. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Renita

Even now, reading that note, I skip a breath, amazed at our connectedness. The adage “six degrees of separation” isn’t simply pop culture or an urban myth. It comes from a very well established body of sociological research regarding social networks, which is perhaps best recounted by Columbia’s Small World Project, which you can see here.

For me, though, my exchange with Renita illustrates something even more remarkable: that the intersection of blogs and powerful search engines reduced Renita and me to one degree of separation … two independent events—a journal-style post and a web search—immediately linked two strangers in an unmediated exchange. It’s an extremely powerful thought: as we post, we are indexed. As we are indexed, we are made searchable. As we are made searchable, we become accessible to the full universe of users.

As we blog, we become prone to the world … we are no longer participants in the electronic network, we become part of the global SOCIAL network. Blog regularly and the nodes and degrees surely diminish, one by one, until the entire world is just outside the room, only one click away from walking through your virtual door.

Renita had it right: “Isn’t it amazing that by the simple act of typing ‘Micah Clark hiker’ into the search engine, I would find your beautiful story?” It is amazing, Renita, amazing, and also a bit overwhelming. But I’m glad you found The Fine Edge and that our degrees are down to zero.

After all, fellow bloggers: the chance to connect with … even contribute to … the lives of our readers—isn’t that why we write?

It's Time To Return To The World

This is an archive post. I originally posted this piece on another, and now dormant, weblog on August 1st, 2003, and have placed it here so I don't lose it in the dark recesses of the blogoshpere.

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IT'S TIME TO RETURN TO THE WORLD

I’ve been traveling to Detroit on business for several years, and it always strikes me as does no other place. It is a city in decay, but if you’ve not been there, it’s difficult to understand the level of decay.

No one lives downtown. No one goes downtown for entertainment, save to visit the casinos. Storefronts and buildings across the center of the city—not the fringes, not the margin where office buildings become row homes … the center of the city—stand shuttered, windows boarded, littered with graffiti, playbills, and notices.

And I’m always left asking, “How could this happen?” Not 40 years ago the city was grand. The architecture remains grand, a testament to the golden age of post-World War II American industrialism and commerce. Yet today, visit downtown and you’re left to wonder how a populace could leave this building vacant, standing alone on an empty street, surrounded by razor wire and trash (click the pic to see the full-size shot).

This is the Hall of the Grand Army of the Republic. It is an extraordinary structure, built in 1897 as a meeting hall for Union Civil War veterans. It’s on the National Register of Historical Sites, and it’s been the home of rats and addicts for more than two decades.

Or why a business would vacate this building:

This is the Guardian Building, another National Register site, and one of the most extraordinary examples of Art Deco skyscraper masonry in the world. It is unique and stunning, and it stands in the very heart of Detroit, nearly vacant. (The primary tenant, by the way, moved here.)

For some time my trips to Detroit have had the slightest essence of reminiscence, tugging at some familiarity that I could never quite locate. This week I found it: visiting Detroit recalls this passage from the final pages of Atlas Shrugged—

The news of the continent’s severed artery had now engulfed the city, men were deserting their posts, trying, in panic, to abandon New York, seeking escape where all roads were cut off and escape was no longer possible. The plane was above the peaks of the skyscrapers when suddenly, with the abruptness of a shudder, as if the ground had parted to engulf it, the city disappeared from the face of the earth. It took them a moment to realize that the panic had reached the power stations—and that the lights of New York had gone out.

Detroit is a city in which men have fled and the lights have gone out. It is a city in which not only the people, but the possibilities, are absent. And it should serve as a lesson for every urban area in the country.

The city is striving for a “comeback.” The sports franchises have built stadiums downtown; Compuware is locating its new world headquarters in the city. Still, the answer is not to simply encourage the return of commerce. For Detroit to regain any semblance of vibrancy, at some point the citizenry must remember what a city can be, and begin to believe in Detroit’s return.

“The road is cleared,” said Galt. “We are going back to the world.”

The Fine Edge

This is an archive post. I originally posted this piece on another, and now dormant, weblog on August 7th, 2003, and have placed it here so I don't lose it in the dark recesses of the blogoshpere.

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THE FINE EDGE

An interesting day yesterday, as Wife, her friend, and I made the hike from the Brighton trailhead to Sunset Peak, elevation roughly 10,700 feet. You can see the peak in the snap below (click the pics for larger versions), which was taken from Catherine Pass, which sits at 10,240 feet. (Noted for the record: 70-year-old Father made the trip to Lake Catherine, just below the pass, then tromped out another three miles or so exploring while we went to the summit. We should all be so fit at 60, let alone 70.)

In one way the hike was nondescript, save the grandeur of the wild around us. We made our way from the Brighton parking lot, past Dog Lake and Lake Mary, past Lake Martha and Lake Catherine, and up to the pass. (You can see pics from an earlier hike here.) From the pass we hiked the ridgeline to the summit, where we enjoyed a 360 degree panorama that defies easy description. The clouds broke, sunshine streamed down on the windy summit, and we took in vistas from Idaho to Colorado to the Aquarius Plateau to the Wasatch Range’s Mount Superior. We were very much on top of the world.

After enjoying the view, a sandwich, and the rush of adrenaline we made our way down the mountain, enjoying vistas and meadows of wildflowers that we’d missed on the way up. We linked up with Father, reached the trailhead without incident, and enjoyed a beer and lunch at the very special Silver Fork Lodge (dining review to follow).

Again, in one way, the hike was nondescript. In another, however, it was quite unique. We had heard on the news that since Saturday a hiker had been missing in Little Cottonwood Canyon’s Grizzly Gulch, which is on the opposite side of the Catherine Pass hike we’d just made … if we’d continued along the trail from the pass rather than headed to the summit, we’d have dropped into Grizzly Gulch and Little Cottonwood.

The hiker’s name was Micah Clark. He had hiked into Grizzly Gulch with photography equipment and a GPS, and it was clear to me that he must have been headed to Catherine Pass, the ridgeline upon which the Great Western Trail lies, and Sunset Peak. It is the photographer’s destination.

Evidence of his absence was immediate. We could see the search aircraft circling, and each hiker on the trail knew the story and talked of being just a bit more aware and observant than usual. And we were being observant when, just off the summit during our descent, Wife and I heard three short blows of a hiker’s emergency whistle. I went off-trail, working my way along the talus, first to the ridgeline, and then back along a short cliff line running East-West maybe 30 feet below the trail. As I did I looked for spots that would attract the photographer’s eye, vistas that would be right with the light of mid- or late-day. Many were along small promontories below the talus, points where a misstep would lead to a direct fall of 10 to 30 feet to a steep and rocky slope.

I called and whistled along the way, working my way along the talus, to the ridge, and back along the cliff line twice. Giving up, I rejoined Wife and her friend at the trail, and they explained that other hikers had told them of a rescue party working in the basin below us, and it would have been their whistle that I heard.

It was a strange thing, going into the Catherine cirque with the airplanes passing above us, knowing that their passengers, the other hikers on the mountain, and we were all tied by some thin thread to a shared and somber activity: We were all looking. Each of us, at some time, remembered or talked of Beck Weathers, or Aron Ralston, or some other individual who survived in the wild. And we all recognized, knowing that days had passed, that we were at least partly resigned to the likely outcome.

Yesterday afternoon we learned that they found Micah’s body about 1:00 P.M., about one mile from his truck at the trailhead, which would put his location at Catherine’s Pass and Sunset Peak. It’s very possible that the whistles I heard were the alert of the party, calling the others to note that they had found his camera and tripod. I suppose I won’t know.

Yesterday, at times, on the ridgeline trail, we were very close to the edge. While the trail itself is not dangerous, a slip could have resulted in easy tragedy. Somewhere along the way, either on the trail or just off it, Micah Clark slipped. He came prepared, walked where we walked, traced the same trails others had traced, and slipped where others did not.

For me there was a message in yesterday’s experience … not one of melodrama, but one of a simple reminder: Each day we walk the ridgeline, the margin between meadow and 800-foot exposure, the margin between fortune and misfortune. It is a fine edge.

Artists and authors have cast this message with greater justice than can I, but the message remains, and it was as tangible for me yesterday as it was 12 years ago when I absent-mindedly stepped off the curve and into Salt Lake City traffic, as it was the morning of September 11th, 2001, when I had the good fortune board a commercial flight that arrived safely at its destination. Each day we walk the fine edge. People slip. We should hold those whom we cherish close to our heart.