Walter Fisher had no bone to pick with rationality, but he saw human beings as storytellers rather than thinking machines. To be effective, even logic and rational argument must take narrative form. [...]
“Good reasons” for adopting any rhetorical message are “inexplicably bound to a value–to a conception of the good”. Good reasons are “good” in a moral sense and that means a good reason isn’t necessarily effective or persuasive. Good reasons are rooted in fact, they are relevant to the issue at hand, they are tied to positive consequences, they conform to the life experience of the audience, and they plug into transcendent value–the highest good an individual can imagine. [...]
Stories must also be shaped to fit the self-conception of a specific audience. “Any story, any form of rhetorical communication,” Fisher wrote, ”not only says something about the world, it also implies an audience, persons who conceive of themselves in very specific ways. If a story denies a person’s self-conception, it does not matter what it says about the world. In the instance of protest, rival factions’ stories deny each other in respect to self-conceptions and the world. The only way to bridge this gap, if it can be bridged through discourse, is by telling stories that do not negate the self-conceptions that people hold of themselves.” [...]
Ordinary Americans, Democrat and Republican, responded to Reagan because his character was in harmony with his message. “When one has determined that a person–ordinary or presidential–has a trustworthy and reliable character,” Fisher writes, ”that his or her heart is in the right place, one is willing to overlook or forgive many things: factual errors if not too dramatic, lapses in reasoning, and occasional actional discrepancies.” For this reason, “Reagan’s critics, like those who would criticize any heroic figure, discover that their characters rather than his come under attack.” Hence the expression, “the Teflon president.” [...]
But liberal politics is deeply moral; it’s about helping poor people, lifting up the weak, encouraging the forgotten and neglected people who fall through the cracks. We are the people who believe things can be better, that all people matter. We believe that America is great when America is good. [...]
Passion doesn’t have to be sleek, self-indulgent or sensual. Genuine passion puts a catch in your voice, it takes your breath away, it evokes tears. If we can’t wrap our facts and figures around that kind of moral fireworks we’re dead. We either inspire America with a moving vision of radical goodness, or we give up the game.
Goodness narratives come with built-in problems, no question. There is so much in the American story that is tragic, even shameful. We on the left have stacks of studies, graphs and historical exposes proving that Americans are very bad people. The more effectively we drive this point home the more we send ordinary Americans fleeing into the arms of Ronald Reagan and his political progeny.
“What do you want to hear about,” the conservative rock stars ask, “guilt or greatness?” We can’t fight that kind of ideological denial with charts and graphs; we need narratives that hook moral passion. [...]
We are very good at telling people why the other guy is an idiot; but we have no shining alternative on offer, something we believe so deeply that it shapes who we are and drives everything we do. [...]
Here’s the message, “You know the way we are as a people; eager to help the poor and the helpless; putting out the welcome mat for people from all over the world; willing to accept people as people regardless of language, nationality, skin color or religion; eager to make our country work for everybody? These are the values that make us great. Sure, we fall short, often in tragic ways; but we never take our eyes off the goal. That’s the kind of America I want to live in, and I bet you do too.” [...]
Similarly, dumping on the materialistic myth of hard work, rugged individualism, personal responsibility and success is a fool’s game. These ideas are woven into the American identity and no one can change that. The best we can do is to shift the emphasis from the materialistic myth to the moral myth. [...]
If we want to transform American politics and practice we must tell stories we believe in.