THE
REVIEW OF
COMMUNICATION
1 (2001):
191-193
© 2001 National
Communication Association
The New Prince
Herbert W. Simons
Dick Morris. The New Prince. Los Angeles:
Renaissance Books, 1999. 256 pages. $22.95 (cloth); $15.95 (paper).
The study of persuasion currently confronts an
anomaly: the technology of persuasion has become frightfully good; the
theory of persuasion lags far behind. Experts at the technology are paid
millions to advise politicians, advertise products, improve corporate
images, but if asked to produce a theory corresponding to that which
guides their human engineering, most could not. And the practitioners
tend with good reason to be skeptical of theories developed by academic
social scientists.
Skepticism about the utility of social-scientific
theories is not confined to practitioners; it is shared by many social
psychologists. Called into question has been theory’s capacity to
account for variations in language, culture, and history, or to
transcend the rhetorically contingent by way of covering laws, akin to
those in the physical sciences. Kenneth Gergen, for one, urged social
psychologists to acknowledge that they were no more than contemporary
historians of passing cultural fancies.
This is not to say that rhetorical theory and
criticism have succeeded where social scientific theory and behavioral
research have failed. Indeed, the well conducted psychological
experiment provides far greater controls over errors of observation and
inference than does rhetorical criticism. Sensitive as rhetorical
critics are to textual and contextual factors, they are often
insensitive to the influence of their own preconceptions. Moreover,
rhetorical criticism provides no reliable means for self-monitoring, or
for correction by the scholarly community. Rhetorical theorists and
critics also do better with single messages—preferably verbal—than
with campaigns of persuasion, and their theory finds little place for
forms of influence other than persuasion, such as coercion and material
inducements.
Little wonder, therefore, that professional
persuaders tend to look elsewhere for guidance. Beginning with the
Eisenhower campaign in 1952, political candidates turned to advertising
gurus for advice. It was easy enough to dismiss the pop psychology and
seat-of-the-pants counsel of the early spinmeisters, but their
technology has improved considerably over the years, so that, today, in
the capable hands of consultants like Dick Morris, it warrants genuine,
if grudging, respect.
Although he does not label himself as such, Dick
Morris is a cyberneticist, much in debt to the science of error control.
“Theory” for him consists of little more than rules-of-thumb and
experience-based hunches, and these are readily adjusted to
circumstances or cast aside as evidence dictates. Morris market-tests
everything: themes, slogans, ads, even whole speeches. Just as
candidates need to learn from the voters what it will take to get them
elected, so elected leaders need market-testing to determine what is
do-able politically and how best to win public support for their
proposals. Lest critics dismiss this as pandering, or as followership
rather than leadership, Morris is quick to point out that democratic
leaders need mandates. Focus groups and tracking polls are not a
substitute for leadership, but, used properly, they enable leadership.
Morris has authored three books in rapid
succession. Behind the Oval Office (New York: Random House, 1997)
focuses on his role as behind-the-scenes advisor to President Clinton
from 1994 to 1996. It includes an instructive if self-serving account of
how Morris engineered the undoing of the Republicans after their
landslide Congressional victory in 1994.
Vote.Com (Los Angeles: Renaissance Books,
2000) is a case for direct democracy via Internet referendums. It
includes as well a tribute to the public’s refusal to abandon Clinton
in the face of unremitting personal attacks on the President by the
media and by Beltway politicians. Always the spinner, Morris includes
himself among the vox populi:
“What we discovered about ourselves was that we want to hold power in
our own hands.”
The New Prince, written in the spirit of
Machiavelli’s classic work, is a “how-to” for presidents and for
those aspiring to high office. Morris begins on a note of high optimism.
Issues reign these days, he says. Voters want their elected officials on
a tighter leash than in decades past, and so they insist on concrete
proposals. Money counts for less than good ideas, and positive messages
are valued more than attacks. In general, adjectives used to
characterize political figures (“I’m honest, he’s dishonest”)
count for less than verbs (actions pledged or taken).
These gross generalizations are hedged and
qualified, if not flatly contradicted, in subsequent chapters, as when
Morris acknowledges the need for money—lots of it—to get out the
message, and concedes the value of negative advertising in some
circumstances—for example, in castigating an opponent for having taken
the low road in a campaign.
It is tempting to dismiss books like Morris’s as
unscholarly and untrustworthy, but I think that would be a mistake.
Better to mine them for their nuggets of gold while stripping away the
hype and exaggeration. Murray Edelman’s The Symbolic Uses of
Politics (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1967) remains the
best corrective I know of to those who celebrate the system excessively
and, by implication, those like Morris who help manage it. Charles
Lewis’s The Buying of the President (New York: Avon, 1996) is
utterly convincing on the role that money plays in the corruption of the
electoral system.
The hype and exaggeration aside, Morris deserves
special credit in my view for undoing the forces of Newt Gingrich and
Company following their landslide in 1994. Steal the Republicans’
thunder, he advised Clinton, while ruling from the rhetorical middle
ground. Disarm your opponents by agreeing with their more attractive
positions, all the while drawing a line in the sand on issues dearest to
your Democratic constituency. Don’t be afraid to lead, but find out
from the citizenry first what it will take stylistically and not just
substantively to win their support. Above all, triangulate. Zigzag on
issues in sailing the ship of state, being ever mindful of the final
destination.
These are among the rules-of-thumb of a wise and
resourceful political advisor. Machiavelli would have been proud.
Herbert W. Simons is professor of communication at
Temple University.