Why Our Political Life Needs Inspiring and Memorable Language

There was a time when the political life of the United States of America featured stirring and memorable language. The ideas in that language inspired people not just for a particular news cycle, but for the lifetime of our republic. Sadly, the era of uplifting and memorable political discourse seems to have passed, at least for the present.

Martin Luther King Jr.’s “How Long?” speech in Montgomery, Alabama; March 25, 1965

The lack of moving and unforgettable language has left a void that has made our democracy weaker. We are now subject to barrages of the most banal social media messaging that stands uncontested by words that hold our hearts and democratic values. We need to rise again to the summit of discourse, to find language that displays the panorama of what we stand for and that energizes people not only in our country, but around the world.

The United States was born with the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776. That document included language that has resonated throughout history:

    We hold these truths to be self-evidence, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

The idea that people have freedom and happiness as birthrights was revolutionary in the 18th century, when divine-right monarchies still held sway almost everywhere. The Declaration of Independence inspired people to risk life and limb for self-determination, and to take on the world's greatest superpower at the time. Those ideals continue to vibrate today.

When the United States was split apart by the Civil War, the greatest test of our history, Abraham Lincoln spoke at Gettysburg on the battlefield where only a few months before soldiers had offered their lives for the Union. Lincoln's Gettysburg Address of only 271 words concludes:

    …we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. 

Lincoln's emotional speech stands in bold contrast to the long, shopping-list discourses of today that try to touch on every political issue and appeal to every possible constituent. 

Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches during the civil rights movement also had the ability to motivate people to take action based on the highest ideals. When the marchers who were beaten in Selma, Alabama, finally arrived at the state capitol in Montgomery, Dr. King said in his “Our God Is Marching On” speech:

    I know you are asking today, ‘How long will it take?’ Somebody's asking, ‘How long will prejudice blind the visions of men, darken their understanding, and drive bright-eyed wisdom from her sacred throne?…How long? Not long, because the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.

We need speeches like that again from our progressive leaders, speeches that sanctify our ideals in ways that are unforgettable and make us pull back the tears. Without speeches that can serve as lighthouse beams to guide us, our political discourse gets sucked into the whirlpools of social media. 

Preaching to the Choir—Is It Always Wrong?

One of the most frequent criticisms I hear of political writing is that it involves “preaching to the choir”—in other words, telling an audience of people who agree with you what they already know. At first glance, this seems like a terrible idea. After all, what possible good could come of trying to convince the people who are on your side? But I think the question of the audience for political writing is actually more complex.

There are reasons to repeat to those already convinced the principles that many of us believe. Why? One reason is as a reminder—“We hold these truths to be self-evident,” to quote the U.S. Declaration of Independence—but the details of those truths are often obscure.

For example, most thoughtful people may be in favor of “equal protection of the laws,” as mandated by the Fourteenth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. But not everyone may remember that this entails equal treatment by the police on the streets.

A poem that deals with this issue is “In Two Seconds” by Mark Doty, sparked by an incident where a police officer shot and killed the twelve-year-old African-American youth Tamir Rice when he was playing with a toy gun in a playground in Cleveland, Ohio, in November 2014. (I am indebted to Anne Caston, my colleague in the low-residency MFA at University of Alaska Anchorage, for introducing me to this poem.)

Tamir Rice, 2002–2014

Mark Doty’s poem bewails and protests the officer’s taking only two seconds to assess the situation before shooting and killing the young man. On a larger scale, this poem is a plea for the issues raised by the Black Lives Matter movement—Doty implicitly calls for an end to racial profiling and to police violence against unarmed black citizens.

I hope that this poem has convinced many readers who were not previously opposed to police violence against unarmed blacks. Without any cynicism, though, I would bet that the vast majority of readers who look for or find this poem already agree with Mark Doty’s ideas on this subject. And yet this poem feels far from pointless to me. For one thing, Mark Doty is reminding us, using the example of the egregious death of Tamir Rice, of the urgency of preventing police killings of African-Americans. There is a way in which hearing or reading this poem permits us to experience more fully the roots of our beliefs. The poem also fills in details about the general idea of equal protection, and inspires us to rededicate ourselves to the campaign to end police violence against unarmed citizens, a situation that persists despite the close attention focused on it.

There are very good reasons to preach to the choir, so long as the writer avoids using cliché language or situations. In his poem, Mark Doty never resorts to often-heard phrases such as “racist," “police brutality,” or “innocent.” He sketches this particular story clearly and with emotion, making real to the reader the life of this boy, with his “comic books, pocket knife, bell from a lost cat’s collar.” Ultimately, Doty calls Tamir Rice, in what is to me the most transcendent moment in the poem, “beloved of time.” The poet gives us the individual and allows the reader to draw the larger conclusions, an approach far more engaging than a recitation of statistics.

If preaching to the choir were pointless, we would only sing our national anthem once and never repeat it. But each time we sing a national anthem, or a folksong such as Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land,” or we read or listen to a poem such as “In Two Seconds,” we reaffirm our ideals and goals. Writing about political subjects may often involve preaching to the choir, but that’s what a minister does every single Sunday.

Zack’s most recent book of poems, Irreverent Litanies
Zack’s most recent translation, Bérénice 1934–44: An Actress in Occupied Paris by Isabelle Stibbe

Other recent posts about writing topics: 
How to Get Published
Getting the Most from Your Writing Workshop
How Not to Become a Literary Dropout
Putting Together a Book Manuscript
Working with a Writing Mentor
How to Deliver Your Message
Does the Muse Have a Cell Phone?
Why Write Poetry? 
Poetic Forms: Introduction; The Sonnet, The Sestina, The Ghazal, The Tanka, The Villanelle
Praise and Lament
How to Be an American Writer
Writers and Collaboration
Types of Closure in Poetry

July 4th and U.S. Immigration

In rereading the Declaration of Independence of the United States on the anniversary of its signing, I’m struck by a phrase I’d forgotten was an important part of the text. The signers objected to the king of England preventing the naturalization of immigrants to the thirteen colonies: “he has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws of Naturalization of foreigners…”

That phrase keeps ringing for me, “obstructing the Laws of Naturalization of foreigners…” particularly in the light of Justice Antonin Scalia’s dissenting opinion when the Supreme Court struck down parts of Arizona’s law on immigration. Scalia attacked President Obama’s executive order of June 15, 2012,  blocking the deportation of approximately 800,000 young people who came to this country as children, who are not yet naturalized citizens. Isn’t Justice Scalia doing exactly what the founders of our republic criticized the British monarch for, “obstructing the Laws of Naturalization of foreigners”?

If there are people living within the borders of the United States of America, working hard in our economy, raising their children here, shouldn’t they and their children have the right to become citizens of this country? Why should those people, who are active members of our society, live in daily fear of deportation?

Former Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney has said of the young people who grew up here who are not yet citizens, that they should “return home, apply and get in line with everyone else.” But this country is their home.

Let’s join with the founders of our country in extending a welcome embrace to those who are living in the United States and wish to become patriotic Americans. Don’t we still “hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable Rights”?

Other recent posts about writing topics:

How Not to Become a Literary Dropout, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10
Putting Together a Book Manuscript, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Working with a Writing Mentor: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
How to Get Published: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Getting the Most from Your Writing Workshop: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Does the Muse Have a Cell Phone?: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Why Write Poetry? Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Using Poetic Forms, Part 1: Introduction; Part 2: The Sonnet; Part 3, The Sestina;
Part 4, The Ghazal; Part 5, The Tanka