The joy of "meh"
We tend to think that persuasion is all about choices—are you voting Donald or Kamala?—but our choices don’t always affect our actions. Priorities and motivation often make a bigger difference than a binary decision.
True, a fifth of Americans would don white robes and wait for the Rapture if Trump told them to. And core Progressives are accessorizing their pussy hats with ,LA tees. But this is where we get in rhetorical trouble. Those passionate Last Trumpeters and Hivesters don’t decide elections. Nor for that matter do the most “likely” voters—those citizens pollsters flock to.
No. The person to occupy the White House next January will be chosen by those voters who on election day slightly prioritize the voting booth over the sports bar or dog park. They will care enough—just barely enough—to drag themselves to the polls, driven by an unmeasurable mix of fear, loathing, faint hope, and spouses who threatens to deny sex until they see an “I Voted” sticker. That critical, virtually unmeasurable mass will exercise, or fail to exercise, enormous power come November.
In rhetorical terms, we’re in the realm of audience theory, perhaps the trickiest branch of the liberal art. The audience holds all the rhetorical cards. Fail to motivate the least-passionate audience, and you may lose.
Etymological digression:
The term audience first meant a “hearing” with a divine or a potentate. Even today, getting an audience with the Pope is a big deal. I tell students that when they get into a heated political argument, they should try playing the audience: Don’t try to argue back. Instead, look interested. Say, “Tell me more.” Then criticize the other’s technique. “Nice, but try again, making more sense this time.” You’re not an opponent, you’re the audience. A temporary high-school potentate.
When I was researching a book about self-persuasion, I ran smack into the audience problem. How can I convince a powerful, skeptical, even apathetic audience that happens to be…me? We’ll get to that in later letters.
Meanwhile, to become a more effective persuader, remember that a winning argument rarely ends with a choice. You usually want some sort of action to reward your trouble. This explains why climate change fails to get more traction, even while the Earth piles one record-hot year on top of another. Some 80 percent of Americans believe that the planet is warming and that humans are the main culprits. But when you look at the issues that concern them the most, climate appears pretty far down the list, behind the economy, immigration, abortion, and crime.
Put it this way: persuasion has more to do with changing priorities than with changing minds.
My wife, Dorothy, understands this. As a fundraiser (sorry, advancement officer) for a major hospital and medical school, she doesn’t have to convince prospective donors that healthcare is a good thing. Instead, she must work through rich people’s priorities—land preservation, art museums, political candidates, alma mater, and other ways to avoid tax..I mean, donate to good causes.
You might see the problem in your own life. Getting in better shape seems a very good idea. You even pay for a year’s membership in a local gym. But when it comes time for the Pilates class you signed up for, other priorities tug at you: kids, work, or a sudden compulsion to sleep an extra hour.
Or picture this: A cousin comes to town, and you want to take her out to dinner. “What’re you hungry for?” you ask her.
“Oh, I’m up for anything!” she says, with unhelpful cheer.
“There’s a Korean restaurant just opened up. It’s getting great reviews. Do you like Korean?”
“Um, sure, it’s okay.”
“Or seafood. We love a seafood restaurant that’s just ten minutes from here.”
“I’m allergic to shellfish, but I can eat there if I’m careful.”
You go through ethnic, fusion, vegetarian, vegan, barbecue, fricking cannibal, only to get the same tepid response, and you think you could make a killing publishing The Apathy Diet. “Eat whatever you want. Just don’t want anything.” The secret to getting a decision in this case is to offer what your cousin would mind the least.
Critical choices often get determined by meh voters and markets. Kamala Harris’s current decent poll numbers surprised many people; after all, she bombed in the 2020 presidential race. Few Democrats made her their first choice. But a substantial number saw her as their second or third choice. Few Dems minded when she became the latent 2024 candidate, and they were positively ecstatic to see her replace doomed Joe Biden. This is the secret to ranked-choice voting. It reflects the essence of democracy: its wise recognition that the most effective government may be the one citizens mind the least.
Remember that when you’re debating your next vacation destination.
Jay
P.S. I’m posting frequently to build a small archive. In the longer run, you can expect a dose of soul bending a couple times a week.