Quick, how many U.S. Presidential inaugural speeches can you recall? Other than the words "With malice toward none, with charity for all," from Lincoln's second inaugural, do any phrases jump to mind?I didn't think so.
This week, on January 20, we observe the 50th anniversary of John F. Kennedy's inaugural address. Though I was a child, I remember how it caused a stir. Now, a half-century later, I know the speech to be stirring still, a testament to speech craft that communicators should continue to study and revere.
Why does this speech, just shy of 14 minutes, stand the test of time? You can't say that it was the national swoon with youth, when the youngest man elected President succeeded the then-oldest in Dwight D. Eisenhower. (Twenty years later, Ronald Reagan would become the oldest man elected President.) That zeitgeist is lost to us today. It's not even all the themes comprised in the address, as some are anachronistic. For example, Kennedy pledged a measure of militarism that might not be tolerated or appreciated today.
No, the secret to this speech's longevity is its art employed by the writers. (I am purposefully vague here, as the authorship is not completely certain. For decades, the speech was credited to Ted Sorensen, which he denied. Indeed, there are notes in Kennedy's own hand that indicate he was actively involved in writing the address's key phrases.)
As you listen to the speech through this link on YouTube, hear the various devices. One common device is the use repeating phrases that conclude in different sentiments: "The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life."
As is common in these sorts of speeches, Kennedy strikes a conciliatory pose, offering to stand above the fray. When he says, "We observe today not a victory of party, but a celebration of freedom," he practically dares his opponents to diminish his disputed victory.
There is also the power of the repeated word. Look at this use of the simple word "any": "Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and the success of liberty. This much we pledge -- and more."
Similarly, look at his use here of the words "both" and "problems":
"Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us. Let both sides, for the first time, formulate serious and precise proposals for the inspection and control of arms, and bring the absolute power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all nations."
It is both an invitation to negotiation and a challenge to it.
And of course there is that use of the antimetabole (called tongue-in-cheek by some, the "reversible raincoat"), which repeats words in successive phrases, but transposes their order for effect. Of course, the most famous example of this produced the most-quoted phrase: "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country." Another example, seldom cited, simultaneously expresses strength and conciliation: "Let us never negotiate out of fear, but let us never fear to negotiate."
We often forget that much of the success of the speech depended on Kennedy himself and his ability to deliver such lofty rhetoric. His voice would rise when needed, and he punched the words that needed emphasis. And yet again, there was Kennedy's youth. As I listened to the speech today, I really had not remembered how high his voice was. This was a man with the energy and enthusiasm to deliver on these problems.
But beyond the craft, I believe the the speech stands up because of the optimism, the ideas that this was still the American century in 1961. "Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors," Kennedy intones, an appropriate sentiment during the paranoia of the Atomic Age. "Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce," he called, and Americans believed that there was nothing we could not do.
Sadly, the speech was sadly prophetic of his rudely interrupted term of office when he said that "All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days; nor in the life of this Administration; nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin."
Today, polls show that Kennedy still ranks as the best of the post-World War II presidents. This surprises me, but perhaps the answer lies in this speech. In an era when many so-called political stars speak without wit, compassion, or solutions to the problems they cite, the inspirational words from a man whose best was yet to come are all but irresistible.
As is common in these sorts of speeches, Kennedy strikes a conciliatory pose, offering to stand above the fray. When he says, "We observe today not a victory of party, but a celebration of freedom," he practically dares his opponents to diminish his disputed victory.
There is also the power of the repeated word. Look at this use of the simple word "any": "Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and the success of liberty. This much we pledge -- and more."
Similarly, look at his use here of the words "both" and "problems":
"Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us. Let both sides, for the first time, formulate serious and precise proposals for the inspection and control of arms, and bring the absolute power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all nations."
It is both an invitation to negotiation and a challenge to it.
And of course there is that use of the antimetabole (called tongue-in-cheek by some, the "reversible raincoat"), which repeats words in successive phrases, but transposes their order for effect. Of course, the most famous example of this produced the most-quoted phrase: "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country." Another example, seldom cited, simultaneously expresses strength and conciliation: "Let us never negotiate out of fear, but let us never fear to negotiate."
We often forget that much of the success of the speech depended on Kennedy himself and his ability to deliver such lofty rhetoric. His voice would rise when needed, and he punched the words that needed emphasis. And yet again, there was Kennedy's youth. As I listened to the speech today, I really had not remembered how high his voice was. This was a man with the energy and enthusiasm to deliver on these problems.
But beyond the craft, I believe the the speech stands up because of the optimism, the ideas that this was still the American century in 1961. "Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors," Kennedy intones, an appropriate sentiment during the paranoia of the Atomic Age. "Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce," he called, and Americans believed that there was nothing we could not do.
Sadly, the speech was sadly prophetic of his rudely interrupted term of office when he said that "All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days; nor in the life of this Administration; nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin."
Today, polls show that Kennedy still ranks as the best of the post-World War II presidents. This surprises me, but perhaps the answer lies in this speech. In an era when many so-called political stars speak without wit, compassion, or solutions to the problems they cite, the inspirational words from a man whose best was yet to come are all but irresistible.
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