The nature of my job as news editor here affords me many opportunities to go out and cover all sorts of events.
Schools, public meetings, even gospel explosions could be on my docket at any given moment.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say political events are my favorite events to cover, but they certainly provide their fair share of entertainment, if you allow yourself to truly observe what is going on.
At a recent local political meeting, I listened as a party member asked a state senate staffer if his boss could support a hypothetical bill being discussed by the group’s members.
The aide paused briefly, seeming to need to gather his thoughts, but immediately launched into a roughly minute-and-a-half solioquy to answer the question.
He began with a phrase that immediately gave me pause: “Well, thank you for that question...”
I knew that opener.
I’ve heard it many times before.
I didn’t want to jinx the experience, but I began to listen as the aide’s intro expanded into what I believed to be one of my favorite dialogue subgroups: the political non-answer.
While the political non-answer is usually practiced most and best by elected officials, trusted advisers have also learned to climb to the vague, dilluted positional points their political masters have staked out.
The catalyst for the appearance of the political non-answer usually requires only one thing: a question whose answer requires a firm, unwavering position.
Senate Staffer started his response by thanking the questioner for two likely reasons:
a) Because Senate Staffer was there to observe, not be a part of the meeting, he didn’t expect to be put on the spot. The “thank you” was insincere.
b) All political non-answers start with a “Thank you” for the question. I honestly don’t know why; it’s just one of those things that just is.
Senate Staffer then launched into a several sentence avalanche where he articulated that while he “could not” speak for his boss, he was “sure” that his boss “could support something like that idea if it came to the Senate.”
The word “could” is a highly useful tool in the politician’s arsenal.
Lots of things “could” happen.
The Earth could suddenly stop rotating on its axis.
Arianna Huffington could fall in love with and marry Sean Hannity.
I could choose to change the slightly ridiculous picture that accompanies this column.
All of those things could happen, but probably won’t.
Hypothetical legislation is easy to take a stance on because it could never actually come to be.
However, firm stances on any issue, hypothetical or not, are anathema to the modern politician, hence the “could” cop.
Senate Staffer continued by mentioning other legislative victories that the questioner might enjoy (otherwise known as “pivoting,” moving to an issue area where Candidate is stronger).
The audience still remained unconvinced, so Staffer went for the political nuclear option with his non-answer: the Ultimate Obfuscation.
A series of rapid-fire sentences began to leave his mouth, referencing various party leaders old and new and their commitment to listening to the voters.
Staffer offerred his personal concerns about the issue, saying his boss was aware of the situation and was “constantly aware” of the goings-on.
Then, the kicker, the line that got the questioner nodding as if his question had actually been answered:
“I can assure to you that there is at least a hint of hesitation on the part of the senator...”
“Hint of hesitiation” means my boss probably doesn’t care about your idea, plan or issue, but Staffer can’t tell you that.
“Hint of hesitation” lets you know the political figure will probably be against it, or at least he will be when talking to this group of voters.
“Hint of hesitation” gives him wiggle-room if a party-call vote makes him have a sudden change of heart in the cloakroom pre-vote.
Remarkable phrase, that “hint of hesitation.”
Of course, by the end of his fast-paced, meaningless bit, few of us there could actually remember the original question to call him on it.
I only did because I wrote it down.
Remember that, dear readers, the next time Charlie Candidate comes knocking at the door.
Look for the tell-tale signs of verbal camouflage, and don’t continue to allow yourselves to be hoodwinked.
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