THE 100 - FROM THE INTRODUCTION

In 1896 Henry Hardwicke wrote: “Oratory is the parent of liberty. By the constitution of things it was ordained that eloquence should be the last stay and support of liberty, and that with her she is ever destined to live, to flourish and to die. It is to the interest of tyrants to cripple and debilitate every species of eloquence. They have no other safety. It is, then, the duty of free states to foster oratory.”

In recent years, we both realized that oratory (composing and delivering a speech in public) and rhetoric (the art of using language as a means to persuade) were making something of a return. We had talked often about their demise and the reasons for it. But politicians, particularly in the United States, were beginning to again regard speechwriting and excellent oratory as “must haves”. Conversely, business speakers around the world seemed to be getting worse at making speeches. We found that the average executive prepares for a presentation poorly and speaks badly – a generalization certainly, but evidence suggests that there is very little care or due diligence about political, business or general public speaking.With our experience of the corporate world and of witnessing speakers on the international stage, it was clear to us that many people find making a speech or delivering a presentation difficult or boring. Difficult certainly, absolutely, without any question, but boring? We noted that many people simply couldn’t be bothered. They had little interest in the topic and even less in the audience. They felt that speechmaking was an odious duty that got in the way of “proper work”. This view was shared, in the corporate world, by executive advisors and consultants, advertising agency representatives, PR specialists and indeed a whole gamut of people who we always thought would support the value of rhetoric and oratory.

We also concluded, not for the first time, that speeches often fall short of audience aspirations or expectations. There are, of course, notable exceptions to this, with some individuals delivering well-crafted speeches incorporating personal style and great power, but it is as if most people– even (very) senior, influential figures – view speechmaking if not as boring then as simple or routine, and so their preparation and attention to the task are often perfunctory. While many speeches are weak, some are certainly good, but only a few are truly great. This prompts the question then, of course: what is it that makes a speech great? And does it matter?

Speeches do matter and so does speechmaking. Watching a great speaker and hearing a great speech is a heart-warming, inspirational and spine-tingling experience. It can make us believe and understand something infinitely better (or just make us believe and understand it). It can help us take heart when all around us are in despair. It can embolden us. It can be superb theatre. It can make a difference. When we leave and reenter the real world, we feel that what we’ve witnessed was “real world” too, so we feel doubly uplifted and refreshed. To appreciate this, you have only to look at Barack Obama’s audiences in the speaking engagements he undertook in the run-up to the presidency. It is worth watching how people are before his speeches and how they seem after them.

Conversely, it is disappointing and utterly dispiriting to witness a speech, any speech, that has been ill-conceived, poorly prepared or lazily delivered, with little understanding of the audience or, sometimes, even of the event’s purpose. How can that happen? It is arrogant or complacent to believe that one can simply get up and deliver a speech with little or no preparation. Very, very few people can ever do that and even fewer should take the risk. Certainly, there are those such as Bill Gates whose easy, engaging style makes it look as if he is speaking without preparation, but that is not the case: he practised hard to achieve that “look”.

Great oratory should inspire and enlighten. World history shows time and time again that speeches can soothe a nation or encourage a faction. Speeches can inspire a people to fight battles or injustice. Speeches can get people to make huge sacrifices or overcome the shackles of prejudice or poverty. Speeches can help people fight against oppression, racism, bigotry. Alternatively, speeches can perpetrate terrible acts of inhumanity, hate, torture, prejudice, violence and extraordinary destruction. Great speeches have a powerful effect on the listener – from revolution to revulsion– and the cleverly written and well-delivered phrase can for ever be imprinted upon our individual memories and on the collective memory of society. Add to that an emotional charge that simply moves us, brings tears to our eyes and makes us feel humble, angry or vindicated, and the speech or speaker will be consequential, long-lasting and for ever remembered.

Of course, not all great speeches have to make us cry and not all great speeches have to make us want to fight someone or something. But they do have to make us feel comfortable about the message and good about the messenger. In fact, they have to make us want to care very much indeed about both.

Several elements combine to make a great speech: the power to define the times, to inspire, to make an impact and to motivate. A great speech needs a great speaker. That doesn’t mean picture perfect; many great orators didn’t or don’t look particularly great. Not by a long shot. They don’t always sound consistently great offstage either, but they do something on that platform which has audiences entranced and motivated.

When we began writing this book, colleagues and friends often commented that people rarely use oratory or rhetoric these days, apart from Barack Obama. And he, they declared, was a “one-off”. Those from our (admittedly limited) sample poll would mostly cite historical figures such as Socrates, Churchill or Lincoln as examples of great public speakers, only very rarely including a modern politician or business leader. Our straw poll participants would often declare, in an effort to give an example of public speaking excellence, the name of a popular business headliner. We knew, having witnessed many business speeches, that such famous names were invariably not great, or even good, public speakers. The assumption of our unofficial table-top ballots was that all successful business people must be great speakers. This is compounded by the rise of the soundbite, the quickly prepared 24-hour rolling news and the growth of the internet. Colleagues remarked that people around the world, in whatever walk of life, didn’t require or respond to speeches. Executives, politicians, all of us, were quite happy dipping into radio or TV and clutching a BlackBerry. They believed that all we needed was a short email, a text, a blog or a Twitter. We had all become an international set of headline readers.

Certainly, the expectations of modern audiences have changed and speechmakers have had to adapt. It was ever thus. Public meetings cease to be the draw they once were and attention spans have declined, in some cases dismally so. The same applies to the modern nature of conferences, business seminars and events of all shapes and sizes. Face-to-face communication is regarded as important – as against the predominant view in business a decade ago when managers thought that email and intranets would do the job instead. But oratory of any type has changed. No modern political leader would write a speech running to tens of thousands of words, as Emmeline Pankhurst and Nikita Khrushchev did, when audiences were prepared (or required) to listen for hours at a time. And nobody’s suggesting that they should. Speed and brevity are much more important than they were fifty years ago or indeed ten years ago. Yet this led us to pose an interesting question: is there oratory in the humble soundbite? The answer is yes, because the best soundbites rely on classical techniques and old tricks. And most good (as opposed to trite) soundbites aren’t remotely humble. An example is phrase reversal, as in John F. Kennedy’s phrase: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” Another is the adaptation of an established cliché. Margaret Thatcher, Britain’s “Iron Lady”, took the well-worn phrase of Labour’s “winter of discontent” and added a promise of “an autumn of understanding”. “Read my lips: no new taxes” from presidential candidate George H. W. Bush is another example, as is Ronald Reagan’s Berlin wall speech of 1987 which included this gem: “Mr Gorbachev, tear down this wall.” Newspapers and blogs, websites and rolling news programmes around the world are full of soundbites. Some are good, but most are just cheap shots with little inner meaning and, truth be told, not a great deal of face-value meaning either.

If it’s obvious to say that a great speech needs a speaker (and preferably one with more to offer than a simple soundbite) then two other qualities are equally apparent: a clear, compelling message and passion. It’s surprising how many people stand vainly (in both senses of the word) in front of an audience with an unclear, unfocused message, a complete lack of empathy or understanding of who sits before them (or, heaven forfend, why) and an array of distracting or incomprehensible PowerPoint visuals. The very best speakers, as well as those from the mists of history, use the stage to present an argument. They prepare and practise their craft. They want to say something useful and say it well, even if they find the process hard. They make their message clear and spend a great deal of time in preparation to ensure complete clarity – and they have a real, immovable passion for their subject.

Great oratory and rhetoric seek to convince the listener of something, perhaps to accept a certain definition of freedom, to assert a “right”, to offer hope, inspiration, practical support or simple guidance. These things are still required. Despite its value, oratory is sometimes conspicuous by its absence in contemporary speeches. Why? With the problems and opportunities of the modern world, surely more and better oratory is overdue? Oratory has been called the highest or finest form of art. It benefits from knowledge of literature, the ability to construct clear prose, empathy and an ear for rhythm and harmony. Maybe that’s the problem. Do we know enough about these elements? Do we understand these ingredients? Do we care?

Other attributes of great oratory include emotion and timeliness. Oratory is not merely speaking; it is speech that has noble sentiments, clear ideals, values, stirring emotions, highlighting passions and inspiring action. Oratory is often at its finest when used during times of tragedy, pain, crisis and turmoil. In these situations it serves as a light, a guide to those who cannot make proper sense of the chaos or confusion and are looking for a leader to point the way. (All things are relative and the“ leader” can of course be a middle manager presenting to thirty people.) A great speech reflects the times in which it is delivered, but it can also work in other times – as a whole or in parts. That is what many of the speeches that we talk about in this book have in common: the speakers offered an idea or course of action that resonated with their times and with their audience, but which also had definitive value long after the words were first spoken.

Several of the speeches upon which we comment show how simple words can establish the importance of a speaker in the public mind. In any language and in any place. For example, Charles de Gaulle’s wartime broadcasts were the first step to his being regarded as France’s saviour. Likewise, Margaret Thatcher’s determination and personality were firmly established when she insisted, despite high unemployment, that “the lady’s not for turning”. Nationalism is a powerful and recurring theme in many of the speeches we like. Other speeches rally opponents of the powerful by welding arguments together into a devastating weapon. This was achieved, for example, in very different ways, both by Nelson Mandela’s speech from the dock in his 1964 treason trial and Aneurin Bevan’s masterly parliamentary demolition of Anthony Eden’s case for waging war on Egypt in 1956. In a different age, Earl Spencer’s eulogy to his sister, Princess Diana, gently but coldly condemned the encroaching media and the seeming disinterest of the establishment, in particular the royal family.

Other speeches of note paint a picture, sometimes a detailed and true picture, of what a better world might be like. It is the communication of this vision around the world that can give a speech momentous political consequence. For example, the famous and superb “I Have a Dream” speech from Martin Luther King Jr was daring, beautifully constructed and delivered with absolute belief and passion. Some might say that this was preaching at its very best and, indeed, many of the world’s greatest speakers emanated from pulpits or versions of pulpits or learned their craft from the preacher’s pen and voice. King’s speech painted a picture of a different world, an achievable world. The worldwide transmission of this speech has since given it even greater impact, inspiring generations.

Even where great speeches have very different form and purpose, there are some rhetorical tools that are used regularly. These are the tricks of the speaker’s trade, many known to orators for centuries.

One of the most basic is the “rule of three”. Speakers have always found that by putting things together in threes they can hit home their message. Charles de Gaulle put the rule to particularly good use. Instead of calling on people who served in “any of France’s armed forces”, he issued his summons in sequence to people of the army, navy and air force (“de terre, de mer et de l’air” – with the added advantage of course that it rhymed in French). The rhythm reinforces the call for everyone to take up arms and support the cause. Another example of that device is in President Obama’s victory address in Grant Park, Chicago, in November 2008. He refers to his wife, Michelle, as: “The rock of our family, the love of my life, the nation’s next first lady.” The technique allows for a steady build of power and then an opportunity for accolade.

Anastrophe is a frequent device. This is when a speaker departs from normal word order for sake of emphasis (for example “Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few”). Parallelisms are also useful – using successive words or phrases with the same or similar grammatical structure. For example, on 10 November 1942, in response to the Allied victory at the Second Battle of El Alamein, Churchill said: “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.” John F. Kennedy, with his writer-in-chief Ted Sorensen’s help, was also fond of parallelisms, for example: “Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.”

We all crave and respond to interesting and varied stimulants. Telling a story with dramatic effects – suddenly loud or suddenly soft, faster or slower, deliberate pausing – are simple, dramatic, theatrical effects. We like stories, stories that have a good fabric, an amusing conclusion, perhaps, or one that reinforces an already powerful point. Memorability is important. We want people to remember what we say long after we’ve said it. And an audience responds with enthusiasm to a speaker who understands the art of, well, talking. That means fits and starts for dramatic effect, short sentences in the active voice along with a few colloquial turns of phrase such as “you see”, “so” or “well” – much as are used by some comedians when they stand and tell stories.

And then there is the symploce, where the first and last word or words appear in one phrase or sentence and are then repeated in one or more successive ones. John F. Kennedy again: “There are many people in the world who really don’t understand, or say they don’t, what is the great issue between the free world and the communist world. Let them come to Berlin. There are some who say that communism is the wave of the future. Let them come to Berlin. And there are some who say, in Europe and elsewhere, that we can work with the communists. Let them come to Berlin.

And there are even a few who say that it is true that communism is an evil system, but it permits us to make economic progress. Lass’ sie nach Berlin kommen. Let them come to Berlin.” The repetition drives the narrative and the expectation is heightened. Another example is from Bill Clinton’s“ Oklahoma Bombing Memorial Prayer Service Address”: “Let us let our own children know that we will stand against the forces of fear. When there is talk of hatred, let us stand up and talk against it. When there is talk of violence, let us stand up and talk against it.” Here’s one more, this time from Macolm X: “Much of what I say might sound bitter, but it’s the truth. Much of what I say might sound like it’s stirring up trouble, but it’s the truth. Much of what I say might sound like it is hate, but it’s the truth.” You get the idea and no doubt can see the power of structure. These things take time to prepare and borrow much from the style of the preacher.

But rhetoric on its own doesn’t necessarily make a speech great. Speeches can be made, often fervently, with flowing and melodic language. But the net result of this is mere positioning. Content, and shaped content, is obviously important. The audience has to understand the subject or why it’s important. Listeners want authenticity. When sincerity is conveyed to an audience – and when it isn’t – it makes an impression. This is the case not just for the immediate listener, but also for those who hear it or read the speech long after it was given. For example, the greatness of Abraham Lincoln’s speeches was not widely recognized when they were first delivered. Yet his eventual trademark, of course, and what made him unique as a politician, was his humility and the beauty of the written language he employed. It is in hindsight that we imagine his delivery to also have been outstanding (apparently it wasn’t).

Great orators often reach back into their past, perhaps in a highly individual way, to provide their audiences with some appreciation of the significance of the present moment. They share their personal beliefs with their audiences. A classic example is Martin Luther King Jr, when he said that: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the colour of their skin, but by the content of their character.” Modern politicians follow this line although it is less common in corporate presentations where the thinking tends to be that it’s somewhat vainglorious to personalize speeches too much. That’s a mistake. Personal stories count for much that a speech can inspire.

Inspiration comes in different styles and different guises. There are many speakers and speeches that extol the virtues of the distant future, not least because the speaker can paint almost any picture he or she wants and convey whatever the audience will believe. It’s more difficult to inspire people to consider the significance of the “here and now”. In September 1962 John F. Kennedy asserted: “We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things – not because they are easy, but because they are hard. Because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our abilities and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win.” Many great speakers appeal to us to follow their example. They get us to buy in to their views (good or bad, agreeable or disagreeable) and we allow them to lead or simply to confirm our own thinking in a way that we find difficult to express, but which they annotate simply and superbly well.

The ability to provide a persuasive, influential vision or foretaste of the future is certainly a hallmark of a great speech. Persuasive speeches by an incoming state leader in any nation are designed to inspire hope for the future. And of course they must, but the words can’t simply be disposable. For example, many American presidential inaugural speeches symbolize the philosophy of freedom in all its senses; freedom of speech, of living, of style, freedom from crime, war and strife, hunger, racism, schism and desperation. That is one of the reasons why so many of our one hundred greatest speakers and speeches are American: because for the last two centuries Americans have been thinking about their present and future. A largely immigrant society, Americans have often united around a single, compelling vision. Great speeches are invariably positive, forward- looking and successful – and the same can be said of many Americans.

Circumstances have also played their part in America’s contribution
to oratory, often providing a dramatic platform and memorable context. For example, Franklin D. Roosevelt, speaking in the deepest, worst times of the Depression and in his first address as president, said: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself … These dark days will be worth all they cost us if they teach us that our true destiny is not to be ministered unto but to minister to ourselves and to our fellow men.” There are many other examples of times of strife, struggles for liberty, civil war, violence against fellow men, assassination, financial meltdown and so on, when oratory counts and people want what it offers. These occasions need leadership, and people need to listen to those leaders. Sometimes, of course, the leadership is evil and people will still listen and follow. Such is the power of oratory.

Great speakers or speeches often have a moral seriousness which allows the audience to feel moved or to agree with the speaker’s wit, insight or exhortation to think or do something. It is also noticeable when this doesn’t work. We have all sat through a speech which should have been brilliant, but just never really worked. We willed the speaker to fly but he or she just didn’t take off. Once again, it could have been a mixture of many things: poor understanding of the audience; too much reliance upon heavy-duty PowerPoint; poor audience awareness or engagement; no preparation (same speech as last week); and so on. Speakers often imagine themselves to be great orators, but there’s neither depth nor form (and sometimes little ability) to what they deliver. No connection. In each case of great oratory, speakers present their personal convictions and do this in such a way that connects immediately with their audience. Bang. Immediately. This connection is absolutely key. In the preface to Howard’s End E. M. Forster writes “Only connect”, and that phrase was, for a while, the working title of this book.

A successful speech is cleverly constructed and the writer (not always the speaker, of course) understands the real purpose of the speech and what the audience wants and needs. It can be said that the best orators are masters of both the written and spoken word; they use words to create texts that are beautiful to both hear and read. They create substance. Great rhetoric successfully persuades the audience of a fact or idea. And it is here that we declare a truism: the very best speeches really can change hearts and minds. At challenging moments in history, great speakers and speeches have changed minds. In a few short years the twenty-first century has already proven to be a time of conflict as well as insecurity and economic uncertainty. Recent years can also be viewed positively, with more people than ever before emerging from poverty (notably in Asia) and technological developments proving our overall capacity for ingenuity and progress. The point is that whether you believe in challenge or opportunity, both benefit from the leadership, guidance, insight, clarity, energy, consolation or support that come from great speakers and speeches. While we have deliberately avoided any speeches from the theatre, plays, movies or television in our collection, fiction certainly did inspire us, as it includes some memorable speeches, many of which are admired and used by orators. For example, Shakespeare was undoubtedly a great speechwriter. Recall his rendition of Henry V’s address at Agincourt: “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.” Using this inspirational style and appeal to camaraderie is a simple and unrivalled way to rouse, enthuse and energize. The danger, of course, is over-use, which risks the quotation becoming a parody.

Military oratory, too, has given us memorable speeches. The address given in Iraq to the troops of the Royal Irish Regiment on the eve of battle by their commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Tim Collins, forms part of a long tradition of military oratory designed to galvanize the fighting spirit. In a speech full of soldierly virtues such as courage, modesty and respect for the enemy, he asked his soldiers to be “ferocious in battle and magnanimous in victory”.

If a speech is to appeal to people it should be designed to appeal to people. This means, for example, that the speaker must allude to events and historical figures that are already known to the audience – an obvious observation, but one that is all too often forgotten or ignored. Great speakers display their passion in different ways but, however that passion is conveyed, audiences are left in no doubt as to the orator’s view. The best orators use their audiences’ imaginations and their knowledge of the good things and the good people of the past. Things and people that the audience will like. Talented speechmakers are also aware of the arguments that critics will raise and are able to deftly address and defuse each issue– before the issue arises or hitting it hard when it does. Preparation is required.

We have already touched on the importance of preparation in delivering a memorable speech. Cisco Systems CEO John Chambers is an example of a leader whose preparation is meticulous. He learns about his audience: who they are, what they need to know and what they like or dislike. The week before the presentation he will invariably discuss content with colleagues or specialists. The night before the presentation, he is known to review the slides and text. On the day of the presentation, he might walk onto the stage before the doors open and review the set-up of the room. Then he leaves the stage to see the lighting from the audience’s perspective, taking note of where the lights are in every section of the hall to ensure that he never walks outside the lit areas. Very good.

The truth is that any speech, for any occasion, can be brilliant if you want it to be. The key is not to think of it as a chore or something that gets in the way of the day job. For a leader, even one under immense pressures, communicating with people is a core part of the overall task. Good communication should be the norm, great communication the ambition.

The qualities that make a speech or speaker better than good are also illuminated by the mediocre, weak and downright awful. “To keep silent is the most useful service that a mediocre talker can render to the public,” said nineteenth-century French political thinker and historian Alexis de Tocqueville in his book Democracy in America. He went on to say: “Unfortunately, democratic assemblies encourage the mediocre to make dull, myopic, badly prepared, ill-performed speeches often and at length.” In assessing democratic man, de Tocqueville observed: “He has only very particular and very clear ideas, or very general and very vague notions; the intermediate space is empty.”

Of course, what works with one listener might not with another, but the greatest speeches seem to appeal to a majority at any one time. Something clicks; the light bulb blazes; the tear ducts swell; either the speaker says what the audience wants to hear (all too easy perhaps) or the speaker argues to change opinion (much harder). Clearly, many speeches are designed to appeal to the majority in an audience, either because someone has researched the situation accurately (a good thing), or because the time is absolutely right (also a good thing).

Hopefully, there will always be disagreements about what constitutes a great speech or speaker. This at least means that the issue occupies people’s choice of one hundred greatest speeches was necessarily a subjective exercise and intended to stimulate debate. In our selection we have tried to be fair, balanced and politically neutral – so don’t be surprised to find Margaret Thatcher with Aneurin Bevan, Jawaharlal Nehru with Muhammad Ali Jinnah, Bill Clinton with George H.W. Bush or his son, Barack Obama with John McCain. Most of the names that one would expect to be included are here, along with some lesser-known suggestions. Those garnering the most votes between the two of us and our friends are Abraham Lincoln, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Martin Luther King Jr, John and Robert Kennedy, Winston Churchill, Mahatma Gandhi, Frederick Douglass, Clarence Darrow, Virginia Woolf, Bill Cosby, Pericles, Nelson Mandela, Ronald Reagan and Barack Obama. But that doesn’t mean a priority order – there just isn’t one. All of our chosen hundred have great, but different, merits and each stands tall. Feel free to disagree.

If there is a unifying theme to our selection, it is that each speech made an impact, a huge impact, often because it was given at a crossroads in history – in hope, in business, in emergency or in chaos – and the audience heard something that helped to shake their complacency, provide guidance, inspire their actions, settle doubt or change minds. Some speeches are very specific about what change they seek to bring about. With others, it is only with hindsight that we see their full value or the strength that they brought to their audience when they were first given. One of the big issues that emerged in our selection was that of the slavery or subjugation of peoples. This issue dominates many of the speeches of our chosen few. We move from the crisis over slavery to the controversy over civil rights. This highlights another important ingredient of exceptional speeches: the need for moral courage and the need for exceptional change.

Other speakers and speeches we chose simply because we liked the speaker and knew that he or she delivered a speech in a way that always delighted an audience, while making pertinent and memorable messages abundantly clear. In such cases, it is the performance that adds huge value. In others, it’s the moment and the surroundings, the theatre of the occasion, the drama. We wanted to be sure that we were being fair each time we made a choice. Choosing one speaker usually meant removing another from the list.

Not all of our inclusions are “good” people or “nice” folks. That’s deliberate and for obvious reasons. Great speeches are not limited to the power of good or what we consider right. We have therefore included a speech by Adolf Hitler because, as we explain later, his first and arguably his most powerful weapon was his oratory and this enabled him to move a nation from peace to war. We believe that our common understanding of the threat posed by dictators is enhanced if we recognize the menace that comes from their simple, powerful words and communication techniques.

Surprisingly, some of the speeches we have chosen actually berate their audiences. With this sort of oratory, the attack is on society as a whole and the rhetoric gets the audience onside. The trick is to set out your logic and argument clearly so that your audience can properly understand your argument – and then lead them to the point where they can only agree with you. For example, Frederick Douglass, a great orator with a fantastic turn of phrase, must have made the abolitionists go grey with anxiety and then bright red with awkwardness when he delivered his “Fifth of July” speech. He issues a shopping list of accusations: “This fourth of July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn.” Douglass says that to invite him as a guest Independence Day speaker is mere “mockery and sacrilegious irony”. How the audience must have wondered why he had been invited to speak! He declared that he and his audience should not dare to sing a song of praise on the nation’s birthday because, as he pointed out:“ Above your national, tumultuous joy, I hear the mournful wail of millions!”Douglass slammed his audience hard and even now, as one reads the speech, one can only wonder how close he might have been to an ejection. After the haranguing, Douglass lets up. At his close, he gives his abolitionist audience succour and calms down the fevered ears by ending on a note of hope.

People may say: “But surely we can’t say that sort of thing now?” Our answer, borrowed from Barack Obama, is “Yes, we can” and of course people do. Because of the multimedia machine surrounding us, we may not always seek out oratory to say it and we may not always assume its relevance. But, as others have widely remarked, the Obama campaign and his election showed, without doubt, what rhetoric and oratory can do. There may be different subjects, different languages, different cultural and political references, different challenges and times, but great speeches continue to have similar structure, similar power, similar emotions, similar tone – and similar results.

It takes no great scrutiny to see that modern speeches have become shorter, and that’s not a bad thing. After all, we would always advise executives to keep their speeches to 20 or 30 minutes tops. Unfortunately, there are many who dictate that they should speak for an hour (or much more) for no other reason than they feel that it’s about the right amount of time and, anyway, they argue, why shouldn’t they? Well, it may be their toy and they can do what they want. But consider any other form where people sit in seats watching a performance when that performance is less than acceptable. Would they be obliged to stay? Would they stay? Would they come back for more? So many corporate, educational, institutional, conventional or political speeches are dull, forgettable and inconsequential. Harsh? Really, not. And more and more, the cost comes into it. Just getting an audience in, parked and ready to listen is not a cheap option. Why waste the opportunity? Who would want to? Modern speeches are often composed of dry, detailed corporate or political lists of tired delivery or non-delivery, promises, revised promises, promised programmes or historical financial details – all sandwiched between tired phrases and the management-speak of the day, along with poorly delivered hectoring. Why?

Modern phraseology doesn’t always lend itself to great speechmaking. Maybe it was always so. Organizational leaders, politicians and mid-range executives of all persuasions utilize lists of phrases which are wretched as much as they are meaningless: “going forward”, “low-hanging fruit”,“ watch this space”, “from the get-go”, “close of play”, “110%”, “paradigm shifts”, “living the values”, “drill down”. That’s just a few. The creation of long, convoluted paragraphs is also rife. This is not only an English language issue; it’s a worldwide issue. It is the combination of laziness, the generation of non-verb sentences and smart phrases along with the vapid generalizations that de Tocqueville predicted. But we find the current collection anathema.

There is perhaps a new awareness of what language can do; how it can sound; what it can achieve. There is the beginning of a revised awareness of rhetoric, great writing and great delivery. People, it seems, want to listen to words. They want, it appears, to be persuaded by face-to-face communication. And, in all of our research, we have found that it is certainly true that the greatest speeches are those that were gripping precisely because they made demands on the listener.

Barack Obama sets the standard for speechmaking in our immediate times. His strengths are his sincerity and blatant ability to connect with people. He conveys a vision that appears uniquely his own but one in which his listeners can join. He is sincere and not egotistical; he does not dwell on the maudlin. It’s no surprise to find that he is a student of the great orators and wordsmiths, particularly Lincoln, his favourite. The reception given to his speeches, even in office, suggest that there is a hunger for oratory (and, for the moment certainly, for him) – and not just in the United States. Everywhere he is valued and respected because of his inspirational words that touch audience ideals.

There are certainly in the corridors of all kinds of power around the world some great speakers. In India, Pakistan, China, Mexico, Korea, France, Canada, Singapore, Brazil – everywhere – there are gifted orators. Some are modest and work in schools, in colleges, in universities, in local government, in businesses. But while there are still a few great orators today, the art has generally fallen into disregard. William Jennings Bryan, the United States Democratic Party presidential nominee in 1896, 1900 and 1908, commented that great rhetoric was: “The speech of one who knows what he is talking about and means what he says – it is thought on fire.” Now, wouldn’t you want people to say the same about your speeches? Thought on fire!