Re-Framing The Language Of U.S. Political Discourse

In the wake of the closely contested 2004 U.S. presidential election, the book with the biggest current “buzz” within progressive circles is George Lakoff’s little collection of essays entitled “Don’t Think Of An Elephant: Know Your Values And Frame The Debate,” published by independent Vermont house Chelsea Green Press (www.chelseagreen.com).

Lakoff, a self-described “progressive cognitive activist” who co-founded the Rockridge Institute think tank and teaches in Berkeley at the University of California, practices a discipline called “cognitive linguistics,” defined as the “scientific study of the nature of thought and its expression in language.” The two-part question central to his work: How do political groups use metaphor to “frame” their political arguments, and what can progressives learn from the “framing” successes of conservative organizations during the past twenty years?

Lakoff is at his best when focusing on language and it’s use. Consider the following six terms: “tax relief,” “death tax,” “healthy forests,” “clear skies,” “Operation Iraqi Freedom,” or “war on terror.” All are examples of “buzz phrases” linked to metaphorical “frames” used by the Bush administration to justify various policies advanced by the Executive Branch. Each phrase makes a cognitive claim on our collective consciousness as they work their way into our national political discourse when daily and uncritically repeated ad nauseum through a wide variety of media outlets, from FOX “news” (and I use that term loosely) to National Public Radio.

In his book, Lakoff points out that each of these frames simplifies or distorts a much more complicated conversation about each issue: taxation policy, “environmental” initiatives,” or our federal government’s foreign policy as it relates to domestic security concerns. The first two phrases gloss over the fact that most of the Bush administration’s “relief” enriches the pockets of the wealthiest American individuals and corporations at the expense of the rest of us. The second two phrases use Orwellian language to counter scientific evidence that directly contradicts the “environmental” claims (and I use that term generously) implicitly embedded in the phrases themselves. The last two phrases short-circuit any larger debates about U.S. foreign policy by using vague language to link one event, like the 911 tragedy, with another, like the invasion and occupation of Iraq.

When phrases like the six above, along with their larger metaphorical frames, are created and disseminated as bullet-by-bullet “talking points” through a supremely well-funded conservative network of media outlets and think tank organizations thirty years in the making, it is no wonder, as Lakoff concludes, that these phrases and frames have become more widely accepted with U.S. political discourse.

While Lakoff’s meditations on language, metaphor and framing are insightful and important, he sometimes falls into the cognitive trap of framing competing ideological or political systems in dualistic and bi-polar terms. His analysis of the values that imbue the worldview of “progressives” versus “conservatives,” for example, or his breakdown of “strict parent” versus “nurturant parent” metaphorical models seem simplistic, at best. Lakoff admits as much, but continues to dualistic framing throughout the book, which I found frustrating. All of us are walking bundles of contradictions. To cram the nuances and complexities of political discourse into one of two different models may win arguments on televised “shout shows” or presidential “debates” (and I use that term lightly). But as a model for engaging with our complex realities, solving problems, or achieving “win win” compromises (the true hallmark of a working democracy), this approach seems problematic.

Chapter 10 of Lakoff’s book, entitled “How To Talk To Conservatives,” provides a useful list of suggestions for “reframing” political debates. “Because conservatives have commandeered so much of the language, progressives are often put on the defensive with little or nothing to say in response,” Lakoff points out. How should progressives respond? Lakoff suggests four big guidelines: “show respect; respond by reframing; think and talk at the level of values; and say what you believe.” This seems like real good advice for anyone and everyone interested in moving beyond political and cultural divides, both real and manufactured, to honest conversation about creating a more democratic and sustainable 21st century world.

Christopher Williams may be the most remarkable acoustic musician you’ve never heard of. A singer, a songwriter, a guitarist, and a percussionist, he’s made his musical living crisscrossing the United States and Canada during the past seven years, playing more than 120 shows annually, including big folk festivals from Colorado to New York to Texas, and sold more than 16,000 copies of six different CDs of original music completely on his own, off of hundreds of stages and through his www.christopherw.com web site, without any larger distribution company working on his behalf. His energy for performing is prodigious, his gift for song spinning is unique to the genre, and his commitment to his craft is an inspiration to all who know him.

Full disclosure – as his older brother and an acoustic musician myself, I’ve played music with him when occasion allows, have watched and cheered him on from the sidelines, and have developed a deep appreciation for the kinds of sacrifices an independent working musician must make to chase this kind of a dream. But I’ve never taken the time to write a review of his music…until now.

I just received an advance copy of his new CD “When I Was Everything” as a holiday gift. This new eleven song collection of original tunes - recorded in Nashville, Tennessee under the capable direction of producers Mitch Dane and Jacquire King - won’t officially be released (or should I say “unleashed”?) until January 11, 2005. Having spun it several times now, though, I realized that my little brother may have crafted the first great acoustic CD of 2005. The depth and breadth of this latest musical project is stunning: with a subtle range, remarkable production values, and an intimate aesthetic that move the listener deeply.

The CD grabs the audience’s sensibilities immediately with the opening cut, a wonderfully melancholy yet hopeful tune called “Let Me In.” The song’s lyrics quickly stake out the expansive emotional boundaries of this whole project:

You want to touch/ you want to feel/
To be saved by something real/
Salvation comes when you shed your skin/
And let me in…

Never one to shy away from the churned-up waters of the human soul, Williams quickly reveals this CD’s themes – grace, spiritual redemption, love lost and found, and, of course, the ways in which our failings can often lead us to a deeper and more sympathetic understanding of the human condition.

But don’t let the first track fool you. This is not a CD for the emotionally fragile. For an acoustic troubadour type, Williams can rock hard, and he throws down some powerful musical mojo throughout this collection, including the djembe-driven furniture-rattling number “Did Not Draw:”

Trouble is what trouble does/
When the stakes are high and that simple kiss comes to shove/
I can see why you would sell me out when you could/
Your soul was getting lost and the money was getting good…

Sure, on the literal level, the song is about Judas’ betrayal of Jesus at Gethsemene, but anyone who has felt the lure of fame and fortune will understand the larger and more universal question at hand. The same holds true for Williams’ edgy cover of Tom Waits’ “Jesus Gonna Be Here,” especially in light of our current political situation, in which religious posturing is used as cover for all kinds of controversial policy-making.

By the last track, it becomes clear that Williams has stacked “When I was Everything” full of tasty musical gems, right down to “All Of Me,” a song about the mysteries of commitment (he just married last November) and “Women On The Wall,” which takes the title of a Wallace Stegner short story and morphs it into a musical meditation that considers mothers’ loss of young soldier/children during war time:

On their stone wall they wait/For letters full of light/Coming across the wounded sea/Are no stories of victory…

Yet, if there is victory to be found in a collection of songs well-crafted, Williams has set a new standard for the singer/songwriter genre with “When I Was Everything.” To my ears, this is truly the first great acoustic CD of 2005! Listen for yourself at www.christopherw.com.