Doug Pinkham is traveling this week, but we are delighted to welcome our guest blogger, David Demarest. David is vice president of public affairs at Stanford University, a former White House communications director and a Public Affairs Council board member.

November 11, 2010

Months of political advertising have once again demonstrated that while technology may change, and attitudes may change, one thing remains virtually immutable: the capacity of candidates to claim that they will build a brighter future for us all. That is how it should be. We want to know what candidates believe and value, how they stand on issues, what they want to change and what they want to preserve.

In addition to my day job of running public affairs at Stanford University, I have the privilege of teaching a communications course at Stanford's Graduate School of Business. In class, we often use political campaigns as teaching tools, as they are great laboratories for understanding the principles, strategies and hallmarks of effective communications. Campaigns are played out in stark relief on very public stages. They have conflict and drama, heroes and villains. Their objectives are simply defined, and their successes and failures are indisputable: someone wins and someone loses.

This fall, I asked the students to give me the one word that most captured the essence of a political campaign. At first, the words shouted out were "negative" or "chaotic" or "shallow," but after some discussion, the word that they felt was most apt was the word "promise." That seemed right, as it's almost difficult to say the word campaign without the word "promise" trailing behind, as in, "campaign promise." After all, what campaign doesn't offer voters a menu of promises - more jobs, lower taxes, good government, reduced crime, cleaner environment and so forth?

This past election was true to form - plenty of promises, large and small. One big difference, however, was the anger meter. It was in the red zone. This wasn't the "time for a change" messaging of 1980 or 1992, or even 2008 - which in today's political climate seems rather quaint. At one point in this year's election, a majority of voters said they were willing to vote all incumbents out of office. This was a public fulmination, pitchfork and torches, "ride ‘em out on a rail" wrath and fury.

(See Stanford History Professor David Kennedy's very fine piece in the New York Times - "Throwing the Bums Out for 140 Years" - for some truly historical perspective.)

USA Today's post-election headline blared, "Voters Send Angry Message."  There was even anger at the anger: in pictorial irony, a front page photo in the Sunday New York Times showed a citizen holding a placard that read, "Somewhat Irritated About Extreme Outrage."

This is not more bemoaning of today's partisan politics.  Nor is it a critique of the obviously flawed messaging strategies of defeated candidates. It is well-established that angry voters vent their anger on incumbents, but something more fundamental was at play, something that once unleashed, is profound and powerful - and it's all about that word, "promise."

While the first President Bush won in 1988 for many reasons - perhaps the most memorable was his pledge at his convention: "Read my lips, no new taxes." It energized his base. It was catchy and repeatable - a colloquialism from popular culture. It hit you right between the eyes, and conceptually it was big. It was also a promise that came back to haunt him in 1992. Generally speaking, unlike what we saw in this month's elections, there wasn't the "throw the bums out" vitriol in 1992 except with one key constituency: some of those most virulently campaigning against G.H.W. Bush were those in his own party who felt betrayed by his breaking the tax pledge.

One of the similarities among organizations - corporations, academic institutions or even the federal government - is that they all live by the implicit and explicit promises they make to their constituencies. In the case of my university, it's pretty straightforward: Stanford "promises" to parents that their children will get a superb education; we "promise" our donors that we will be good financial stewards of their money; we "promise" the surrounding community that we will behave like a good neighbor, and so on. In corporate-speak, I'd call the summation of all these "promises" a brand. Every organization has a brand, as do leaders.

There's a clear connection between brand and reputation, and it's a simple equation: A brand is a promise, and reputation is whether those to whom the promise was made believe it was kept.

Promises can be profound and powerful because they capture the imagination with what the future may hold; they can power a movement to achieve great things (like winning an election), or once broken, they can linger like a wound that refuses to heal, crippling the ability to achieve political momentum. Not surprisingly, in this cacophonic media environment it is tough to get attention. Hyperbole, harsh rhetoric and, of course, big promises are often what cut through the clutter. The 2008 election set a new benchmark. The hopes were huge. The dreams were exciting.  Expectations (the dreaded in-laws of promises) skyrocketed.

It was a very big promise, and the bigger the promise the bigger the hoped-for reward, but also the bigger the punishment (read, anger) if it's broken. In politics, reputation is the political capital that breathes life into an agenda. Broken promises kill reputation.

That's because a promise is personal, between you and me. Whether made by a company, a candidate or a commander-in-chief, a promise inspires us to believe, to take a risk, to give the benefit of the doubt, to trust. The dictionary uses descriptors such as "give one's word," or "pledge one's honor" or "stake one's credit."   Our hearts are involved in a promise. Emotionally, the opposite of promise is betrayal.

The seeds of 2010 were planted in 2008. Interestingly, at first, President Obama seemed to answer the question of why people were angry by simply explaining that it was the bad economy. That answer clearly did not resonate.

As time went on, the language shifted toward a greater acknowledgment of broken promises. Late in his lengthy, Nov. 4 60 Minutes interview, he said:

"...part of my promise to the American people when I was elected was to maintain the kind of tone that says we can disagree without being disagreeable. ...there have been times where I've slipped on that commitment. And that's something that I've got to make sure that I'm checking on an ongoing basis, making sure that my rhetoric matches up with my expectations for myself and the expectations of my supporters." (Italics added)

It also happened to be the highlight quote used by CBS radio the following morning.

As I look at the recent elections, many of the lessons about promises apply to both organizations as well as leaders. Here are my top 10:

1) Big promises are the hardest to keep, and reputational risk and potential outrage rise proportionately with the magnitude of expectations.

2) If people think you have broken your promise, say you are sorry and that it won't happen again, and show why it won't happen again.

3) Pay attention to why people are angry.  People who feel marginalized stay angry, and may just get angrier.

4) Recognize that "communications" problems rarely are just that. Denying that there are more fundamental issues at work is, well, denial.

5) Trust, once broken, takes time and hard work to rebuild - small, consistent steps first. You are asking people to believe in you (again).

6) Humility and grace help sustain newly acquired political capital. It dissipates with arrogance.

7) We rarely achieve solely through our own brilliance. There are always others who help - either through their support or their mistakes.

8) If big promises are the only way to cut through the clutter, maybe some of the clutter is the problem. Make the promise more real and achievable. Call out the clutter for what it is...clutter.

9) Politics is cyclical: no party has a monopoly on the language of big promises.

10) People will recall a promise, especially a promise they really believed you were going to keep, long after you made it (or broke it).

Heed the philosopher who once said: "Take warning by the misfortunes of others, that others may not take example from you." 

Comments?  Email David at demarest@stanford.edu.