Slogans and Metaphors

We humans pride ourselves on our intellects and capacious knowledge.  We like to imagine that we think things through so as to come to clever conclusions.  In fact, despite our large brains, we often turn them off.  This is especially the case with regard to politics.

Instead of looking at facts and respecting logic, we are frequently mesmerized by slogans and metaphors.  Catchy phrases and misleading analogies lead us into simple-minded mistakes.  Although we believe we are being shrewd, we are actually children being steered by crafty pied pipers.

Not long ago, my wife, who is a medical sociologist, was reading a book on the social history of cancer.  As is her custom, she called my attention to a detail that surprised her.  She explained how a so-called “war on cancer” got started and why it was later sidelined.

What became apparent as the complications in treating cancer multiplied was that the project was different from literal warfare.  The enemy was less clearly defined and the modes of battling it were not fully developed.  To assume, therefore, that pumping additional funds into the conflict would produce victory was a miscalculation.

As I listened, I immediately thought of another ill-conceived metaphor encapsulated in a politicized slogan.  This was the alleged “war on poverty.”  President Lyndon Johnson hoped to mobilize the nation’s resources, as had been the case during the Second World War, to achieve a complete triumph over destitution.

Obviously, a country as wealthy as the United States did not have to tolerate privation.  If we concentrated our efforts, we could plainly bring everyone into the middle class.  Except that poverty was not a well-defined enemy like the Nazis and the weapons needed to excise it did not yet exist.

When Johnson conceived of this crusade, he hadn’t the foggiest idea of what was involved.  And so he turned to the experts, but they did not know either.  Social scientists might talk about empowering the poor or promoting social justice, but hadn’t a clue about how to go about this.

For Johnson, the “war of poverty” was a beguiling catchphrase.  It would presumably attract voters.  The words sounded muscular and recalled the recent victory over Germany and Japan.  This seemed to be something we could do if we put our minds and dollars to it.

Nonetheless, it ignored the complications of reality.  We are a hierarchical species.  This means we compete with each other to see who will come out best.  In other words, there are winners and losers.  Moreover, the losers hate to lose.  They therefore feel poor, even if they own their own homes and automobiles.

Relative deprivation is a nasty fact.  So are inequalities in ability and motivation.  Papering them over with words does not make them disappear.  Slogans may entice people to a cause, but they don’t provide directions on how to make it come true.

Another mantra that has had currency is: if we can send a man to the moon, why can’t we do “X”.  Once upon a time, flying rockets into space seemed miraculous.  Doing so was the stuff of science fiction.  Only super-human beings could manage a feat this daunting.

But then we did it—because we figured out how.  It really was a matter of putting the resources together.  Cancer and Alzheimer’s disease are not in the same league.  Neither are poverty or social justice.  This also pertains to education.  More moneys for schools do not necessarily defeat ignorance.

Politicians have always loved slogans and metaphors.  They have always used them as rallying cries to mobilize their supporters.  They do so because these work.  Precisely because their meanings are ambiguous, they bring diverse strangers together—at least temporarily.

Donald Trump did this with, “make America great again.”  John Kennedy did it with, “get America moving again.”  For Ronald Reagan, it was, “morning in America.”  For Franklin Roosevelt, we had nothing to fear, “but fear itself.”

Our ability to use words and images is one of the greatest assets of being human.  But it is also one of our greatest liabilities.  We must consequently be on guard lest our symbolic capacities run away with us.

Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.

Professor of Sociology

Kennesaw State University