Eloquent oratory has power beyond words

If the race for the White House were decided on the basis of political oratory alone, then the 2008 campaign would be a hot-air landslide.

Whether they embrace his politics or not, almost everyone — from political junkies to casual observers — agrees that Democratic Sen. Barack Obama of Illinois is the best orator among the current crop of candidates.

"Barack Obama bringeth rapture to his audience," Jack Shafer, editor of the online magazine Slate, wrote recently. "They swoon and wobble, regardless of race, gender, or political affiliation, although few understand exactly why he has this effect on them."

Such is the power and skill of a talented orator.

From Winston Churchill ("We shall fight on the beaches... ") to Franklin D. Roosevelt ("The only thing we have to fear is fear itself") to the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. ("I have a dream"), there is a long line of historical figures who have distinguished themselves with their words. The very best project themselves — and their ideas — into posterity.

There's no clear science about how this happens. Still, academics and social scientists have created a cottage industry out of distilling the essence of successful speechmaking.

Martin J. Medhurst, a professor of rhetoric and communications at Baylor University in Waco, Texas, is editing a book on the topic.

"Words of a Century: Top 100 American Speeches, 1900-1999" is to be published later this year by Oxford University Press. It's heavy on memorable public addresses by social activists and political leaders.

The list ranks King's "I have a dream" speech as the best of the century, followed by President Kennedy's inaugural address and Roosevelt's first inaugural address. The late Rep. Barbara Jordan of Texas, who placed fifth on the list, is the highest-ranked woman for her keynote address at the 1976 Democratic National Convention.

"The greatest speeches occur at moments of crisis in American history such as during wars, civil rights, women's suffrage and the like," Medhurst said. "There's something about a national crisis that calls forth presidential oratory because the president is the one to speak for the nation."

But it also includes iconic public statements from religious leaders (Jesse Jackson and Elie Wiesel), lawyers (Clarence Darrow), military leaders (Gen. Douglas MacArthur), and one rare and memorable speech by an athlete (Lou Gehrig).

Medhurst praised Obama for his natural and conversational speaking style, elevating him "head and shoulders above" his White House opponents. "He has the ability to be inclusive in his rhetoric, which resonates because it's so unusual," he said. "We haven't heard a politician speak like that in a long, long time."

There are tricks to the trade, said Patricia A. Sullivan, chair of the communications and media department at State University of New York at New Paltz. She said great speakers listen to and mimic outstanding orators to pick up vocal cues and techniques, then practice them until it sounds conversational.

Comparing Obama to abolitionist Frederick Douglass, Jesse Jackson and King, she noted how he employs rhythmic repetition, call-and-response formulas and a conversational tone to bond with those listening to him.

"Obama uses a lot of strategies that are typical of African-American discourse," Sullivan said. "If you're going to be that kind of inspirational speaker, it has to come from inside you and it has to be a part of your ethos."

In particular, she noted Obama's keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention, a speech that made him a star. Obama tested the themes that have become the staples of his current stump speeches.

"Do we participate in a politics of cynicism or do we participate in a politics of hope?" Obama said to thunderous cheers in that speech. "Hope! Hope in the face of difficulty. Hope in the face of uncertainty. The audacity of hope!"

Sullivan called that speech technically sound, yet inspirational.

"There's a whole rhythm to the speech," she said. "The message isn't just being created by the speaker, but it's being created by the speaker and the audience, making it a powerful shared experience."

But public speaking is only one of the many skills of a president. Because it's the most high-profile part of the job, though, it's the one the public most identifies with the presidency.

The administrations of Presidents Kennedy and Reagan get mixed reviews from historians but much higher marks from the general public. A lot of that has to do with their oratory skills — they each delivered a handful of the 20th century's most memorable speeches. Their rhetorical flourishes have done a lot to blur memories of their shortcomings.

Declarations such as Reagan's "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!" (June 12, 1987, at the Berlin Wall) or Kennedy's "Ich bin ein Berliner" (June 26, 1963, in West Germany) have given them an immortality that even their most brilliant policy decisions couldn't have. It's no wonder John McCain has taken pains to align himself with the Gipper, while Obama's supporters have touted his "Kennedyesque" qualities.

President Clinton's speaking record is wildly uneven. Some thought his long-winded speech at the 1988 Democratic National Convention would kill the career of this up-and-comer. His acceptance speech four years later improved only slightly — tedious but not mind-numbing. But he consistently got high marks for his State of the Union addresses, considered by many the sand trap of presidential elocution.

President Bush generally gets poor reviews. Mark W. Davis, a former speechwriter for the president's father, George Herbert Walker Bush, blames it not on the president's speech-writing team but on W's delivery: With that slouchy posture and exaggerated Texas accent, even the most beautiful speech is all but doomed.

Some worry — or say they do — that we've been so deprived of the music of a good political speech that Obama's words are a siren song, luring voters to take a risk on an unknown quantity.

New York Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton often points to the difference between actions and words, but in doing so, she manages to highlight the importance of words. She's made her point most effectively by borrowing a line from a master stylist, former New York Gov. Mario Cuomo: "You campaign in poetry, but you govern in prose."

For his part, Obama has vigilantly defended his stock in trade.

" 'I have a dream.' Just words?" he said. " 'We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.' Just words? 'We have nothing to fear but fear itself.' Just words? Just speeches?"

That he lifted this from a speech by his friend, Massachusetts Gov. Deval Patrick, is another matter.

The common complaint about Obama's speeches is that they're short on specifics. Others are fine with that. To complain about lack of policy in a speech, they say, is to misunderstand the point of a speech. It's like griping about a love song's failure to delve into the everyday details of a relationship. The point is to inspire.

Dorothy James, professor of government at Connecticut College, says very few of the speeches we remember were particularly detailed: "What they conveyed was vision and a sense of authenticity of the individual speaking and the sense that this individual could be trusted to carry out that vision."