Perspicacity vs. Political Speech

One of the biggest downsides of working in politics is that you have to read what politicians say. If you’re not careful, you wind up talking like them, and I recently realized my writing style was a mess.

Budget season is recently over, so for about a month I sat and watched Jersey Democrats feud with Governor Christie over who’s really cutting taxes and who’s really helping the middle class. It’s amazing how vigorously all of them, including the Governor, sling buzzwords that mean nothing. All the epithets, moral fervor, and slogans only say, “I’m being a cookie-cutter partisan.” Everybody knows the real issue is Christie’s reelection in 2013. So New Jersey has a Democratic budget patchworked with Republican vetoes, and I think the whole thing is insulting.

Budget talk is the worst because even the people I think I agree with prefer slogans to information. But I’ve had a couple of mild shocks lately to hint that I might be more like them than I know.

On one of our wedding trips this summer, a friend put on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader in the car. I’ve always loved the scene between Caspian and Governor Gumpas in the Lone Islands: Caspian shows up, switches effortlessly into king mode, abolishes the slave trade, and brings the Lone Islands back to Narnian allegiance all in about an hour. Gumpas becomes the laughingstock of the town and Caspian appoints Lord Bern as Duke in his place—“We’ve had enough of governors, I think.” But listen how he talks when Caspian questions him about slavery:

“I want to know why you have permitted this abominable and unnatural traffic in slaves to grow up here, contrary to the ancient custom and usage of our dominions.”

·      “Necessary, unavoidable, a necessary part of the economic development of the islands, I assure you. Our present burst of prosperity depends on it.”

·      “Your Majesty's tender years hardly make it possible that you should understand the economic problem involved. I have statistics, I have graphs, I have . . .”

·      “But that would be putting the clock back. Have you no idea of progress, or development?”

I wish I could find the whole exchange; sadly I don’t have the book. But much to my discomfort, Gumpas’s logic started tooling nicely along in a mental groove I didn’t know I had. Too much Trenton in my ears, evidently.

Similarly, when we went to the Hoover Dam, I was amazed to see Congress’s approval resolution, because they didn’t justify the project on the numbers, or on benefits for infrastructure or development or local economies. Congress approved the dam because it would “tame the desert.” What? A speck of vision?

The best writing—literary, poetic, political, and apologetic—comes from people who spend their careers on literature or the study of language. You can’t have truth without humor and beauty, and you don’t get much of either in party politics. So when I realized I’d become didactic, I resolved on two fixes. The short-term one was to staunch the bleeding: use shorter words and fewer prepositions, in a mental hat-tip to Strunk and White. The long-term fix is to get more literature, Scripture, and poetry in my reading diet. Humor and beauty do reside in things that are true to life—as literature, Scripture, and poetry are. As a Christian I have a calling to be true to life. So as a writer, the means I use to discuss truth matter. As a person, I don’t want a desiccated soul. And as a citizen, I ought not to be complicit in the avalanche of drivel that makes our political sphere so mindless. Time to read something that’s just straight-up fun.