[Michelle Obama] has a great deal that would be attractive in a first lady (intelligence, accomplishment, beauty) but lacks placidity, which is, actually, necessary. All first ladies, first spouses, should be like Denis Thatcher, slightly dazed, mildly inscrutable, utterly supportive. It is the only job in the world where “seems slightly drugged” is a positive job qualification. The key is to know you are not the drama, you do not draw the lightning, you are a background player who yet has deep, unseen power. (The “deep, unseen power” part keeps you serene and energized. The constant possibility of quiet revenge keeps one peppy.)

But bargainers have an Achilles heel. They succeed as conduits of white innocence only as long as they are largely invisible as complex human beings. They hope to become icons that can be identified with rather than seen, and their individual complexity gets in the way of this. So bargainers are always laboring to stay invisible. (We don’t know the real politics or convictions of Tiger Woods or Michael Jordan or Oprah Winfrey, bargainers all.) Mr. Obama has said of himself, “I serve as a blank screen on which people of vastly different political stripes project their own views . . .” And so, human visibility is Mr. Obama’s Achilles heel. If we see the real man, his contradictions and bents of character, he will be ruined as an icon, as a “blank screen.”

It is this last quality — the blank screen — that is a critical factor in the rapid ascendance, and, typically, the subsequent meteoric fall, of many political candidates. I view these types of candidates more as “Rorschach” candidates, because their value is in what they show about the desires and drivers of their supporters, moreso than in what the candidates themselves represent.

Before Barack Obama, for example, there was a non-candidate on the other side: Colin Powell. For those young readers of this blog, Mr. Powell was a prominent military figure in the elder Bush administration, before he became Secretary of State in the younger Bush administration.

There arose the “Draft Colin Powell” movement, around 1995, because people were dissatisfied with the establishment candidates, and Powell had an aura of gravitas, and had apparently executed his military duties competently and intelligently.

Little was known about his politics. Accordingly, people, knowing little about the man politically but respecting what they had seen personally, assumed that Powell shared their positions. People will often see a few pegs of similarity with another person and hang an entire set of assumptions about that person from them.

This leads to an extremely precarious situation when the candidate starts to gain traction. When so little is known about a candidate’s positions but so much is assumed, one misstep creates a jarring cognitive dissonance in voters’ minds that can create a sense of betrayal and a degree of “blowback” that can be difficult, if not impossible, from which to recover.

Powell’s “candidacy” never really took off, in part because some of his public statements started people questioning whether he really did represent what they hoped he did. In the same way, candidates often test worse against “any [Democrat/Republican]” in polls than they do against any particular, identified candidate of the opposing party — because the identified candidates have flaws of which people are aware, while the undefined candidates are idealized images in the minds of those being polled.

That is why Obama’s “Jeremiah Wright Moment” is particularly hazardous for the candidate, and, in a YouTube age, will be a very extended one. Once someone has added outlines and color to the inkblot that makes it look like a particular picture, it is very difficult to recover the artful ambiguity that allows people to read their subconscious hopes and aspirations into a candidate’s carefully generalized image. When a candidate deliberately avoids defining himself, he risks being defined by those with whom he associates.

But not necessarily as an inspirational text that showcases the history and aspirations of the American people; rather, this speech should be studied for its architecture, not its content.

Politicians — notwithstanding their reputations — do not typically simply blather on without a goal, focus or point (unless they’re simply running out the clock in an interview, for example, to avoid a difficult question). They do not speak just to make people feel good, or just to inspire. Politicians (or, rather, their speech-writers) design speeches, especially lengthy ones, the way biological engineers might design a virus — with a protein coat of vague, ambiguous words pocked with intellectual antigens that will lock on to particular receptors in the desired audience’s mind, allowing the concealed, packaged meanings to be injected into a listener’s subconscious to achieve a desired effect.

Mr. Obama’s speeches are particularly well-crafted; I am starting to view his writers more as speech engineers. The March 18 address is particularly fertile with examples of consciously-crafted persuasion techniques, one of which I’ll discuss briefly here.

A brief excerpt of one portion (from CBS News):

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don’t feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience – as far as they’re concerned, no one’s handed them anything, they’ve built it from scratch. They’ve worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they’re told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

This is an example of pacing the listener’s experience, which builds rapport (a feeling of identification with the speaker, a feeling that the speaker understands who the listener is and what the listener’s life is like), which is the necessary foundation for moving the listener to where the speaker wants the listener to go.

As an analogy, let’s say you’re teaching your child to ride a bicycle. Your child somehow loses control of the bicycle and starts barreling down a hill, going pretty quickly. You could stop the child by standing in front of the child and grabbing her as she goes by — which would be sudden, sharp, unpleasant and probably harmful for your child and you — or you could run alongside your child, grab onto the bicycle, and gradually slow it down until it stops. The latter choice is what building rapport is like — it’s the difference between a tackle and the gentle lead in a waltz, between prizefighting and aikido.

What’s particularly impressive about the above passage, though, is that Mr. Obama is building rapport with two very different audiences simultaneously — “typical” white people and black people. He says “Most working- and middle-class white Americans don’t feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race.” White people hear that sentence and think “darned right I haven’t been privileged by my race. I’m glad this guy understands that!” Black people hear that sentence and think “darned right they don’t feel that — but they sure have been particularly privileged by their race. I’m glad this guy understands how oblivious white people are!”

He next says “Their experience is the immigrant experience – as far as they’re concerned, no one’s handed them anything, they’ve built it from scratch.” He doesn’t say “most of them are children of immigrants who came here after slavery was abolished” — he says “their experience” was like that of immigrants, and as far as they’re concerned, no one’s handed them anything.

Again, white people hear this and say “yeah, I am an immigrant/a child of immigrants — I shouldn’t be punished for slavery — my family was still stuck in the Old Country! This guy’s really a lot like me!” Black people hear this and think “Yup — that’s what a lot of white people don’t get — they think no one’s given them anything, when they’re handed stuff on a silver platter! This guy’s pretty smart, and he’s even saying it to their faces!”

He continues his artful pacing, while seeding his underlying anti-corporate message (things are tough, greedy corporations are outsourcing everything, etc.), while still wrapping the more difficult issues in ambiguity packages: “So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college [not "when an African American is getting an advantage" -- this is presented as if it's an unfounded rumor that white people "hear", rather than an actual phenomenon that happens] because of an injustice that they themselves never committed [leaving open the possibility that their parents, grandparents or other ancestors did] ; when they’re told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.”

The end result of all this packaging and ambiguity is that two groups can listen to the same speech and think that the speaker is saying completely opposite things. And here both of those groups are now more inclined to agree with his next statements — which, incidentally, characterize certain Republican movements as fueled by rage and resentment, which was exploited by unscrupulous people.

Soon to come: The Pivot.

Let’s look at this elegant example of Bait Throwing (from, of all places, an NPR report):

Clinton told reporters in Pennsylvania on Tuesday that she erred in describing the scene, which she now realizes after talking with aides and others.

“So I made a mistake,” she said. “That happens. It proves I’m human, which you know, for some people, is a revelation.”

Another example appears here (from an interview with KDKA radio):

“The military took great care of us. They were worried about taking a first lady to a war zone and took some extra precautions. Last week for the first time in 12 years or so, I misspoke.”

There are several flavors of Bait in each of these quotes. All are intended to move the listener or reader away from the core issue (that Clinton clearly lied about her experience), mostly by distraction.

In the first quotation, the intent is to distract people from her characterization of her misstatement as a “mistake,” rather than a deliberate falsehood, by throwing out some sympathy Bait: “It proves I’m human, which you know, for some people, is a revelation.” So we’ve transitioned quickly from lie to “mistake” to “I’m human” (subtext: everybody makes mistakes) to “Please feel sorry for me because my enemies are unfairly portraying me as inhuman.” The hope, in other words, is that someone will take the Bait to initiate another, more potentially sympathetic, line of questioning, about Clinton’s unfair, mean critics, rather than Clinton’s own misstatement of reality.

The second statement is an example of Multiple Bait Throwing (perhaps we should simply call it “Chumming”), where the core reframing (”I misspoke” rather than “Okay, I lied and got caught”) follows a rapid sequence of Bait Throwing, which can be characterized as “The military’s great; we were in a war zone (so I really was in danger); and this is the only time I’ve misspoken/lied in twelve years ‘or so’.”

The listener is offered several potential distractions — “Yeah, the military sure is great (and how nice of her to compliment them!).” “Wow, was it really a war zone?” “What kind of precautions did they have to take?” coupled with the crucial distraction of “Oh, come on, this is the first time you’ve misspoken in twelve years?”

When people take that Bait and follow up on that clear over-the-top exaggeration (”I can’t believe she said this is the first time she’s misspoken in twelve years!”), Clinton then gets to laughingly back down and say something on the order of “oh, come on, I was only joking. If you want to be all super-serious about it, fine, sure, I’ve probably misspoken on other occasions, so let’s move on.” So the listener gets to feel good that she’s made some concession — “Victory! She’s admitted an error!” — while being unconsciously moved past the blatant reframing Clinton engaged in — “I misspoke,” instead of “I lied.”

The final move Mrs. Clinton gets to make occurs when someone tries to follow up with her on the original point — her predictable reply will be “Hey, come on, I’ve already addressed that. Let’s not beat a dead horse here, okay? Do you have anything new?”

You’ll see Bait Throwing a lot in political speeches and spin. This is just a neatly-packaged example. But once you become consciously aware of it, it starts really sticking out.

As a summary for those who don’t marinate themselves in the daily brew of the ongoing Presidential campaigns:

Mrs. Bill Clinton attempted to bolster her supposed international relations expertise (and an image of courageousness as well) by saying that when she visited Bosnia, the airplane had to do a “corkscrew” landing, and she had to run, with her head down, to waiting armored vehicles, to avoid sniper fire.

Of course, there were a few dozen other people there (not counting the massed military forces providing security for the then-First Lady), many of whom had video cameras, and the actuality of the trip differs wildly from Mrs. Clinton’s Walter-Mitty-like retelling. Her tale never rung true, especially considering 1) the military and Secret Service would never bring a First Lady into a zone with active sniper fire; 2) she had brought Chelsea along (who takes their kid to a war zone?), and oh by the way 3) Sinbad, and Sheryl Crowe, were also along for the trip.

Check out Ms. Malkin’s site for an hilarious group skewering.

And stay tuned for my follow-up on the political speech-writing techniques of the “pivot” and the “bait.”

While many others were ooo-ing and ahh-ing about Mr. Obama’s genteel refusal to dip to the level of his critics, I was struck by how very conventional his carefully-parsed statement was. It’s something, in other words, that any run-of-the-mill pol would attempt when backed into a corner. Observe:

The statements that Rev. Wright made that are the cause of this controversy were not statements I personally heard him preach while I sat in the pews of Trinity or heard him utter in private conversation. When these statements first came to my attention, it was at the beginning of my presidential campaign. I made it clear at the time that I strongly condemned his comments.

Huh; okay, so first of all he’s limiting his comments to “the statements . . . that are the cause of this controversy.” So he’s dispensing with anything else that Wright might have said. In fact, we still don’t know which exact statements he’s referring to, because he might view only some of those statements that were getting airtime as being the true cause of “the controversy.”

Second, he’s simply saying that with respect to that limited subset of statements, they’re not ones that he “personally heard [Wright] preach while [Obama] sat in the pews of Trinity Church . . . .” So someone could have told Obama about the remarks right after they were made. Or Obama might have personally heard the statements, but not while he was sitting in the pews — he might have been standing up! Or he might have personally heard the statements while he was sitting in the pews — of another church! And when he personally heard the comments, he simply might not have been paying attention.

So this is a conventional politician trick — lard up one’s statements with multiple limiters and disclaimers that people won’t follow when they’re listening to you, and rely on your listeners to read in to your general (limited, disclaimed) theme whatever they would like to believe you’re saying.

But I’m just an untrained ear.