Those poor US political speechwriters

The day before last week’s election, Hillary Clinton delivered one of her best speeches on democracy. A day or so after the election, she delivered another zinger on the same theme. The problem, though, was the two speeches clashed so fundamentally that they sounded like they came from two different people, confounding students of American democracy.
In Michigan, just hours before Americans headed for polling stations to decide whether they wanted her or Donald Trump as their next president, Clinton exuded the confidence of a runner in the home stretch who saw nothing between herself and the finish line. The FBI sniffing around her e-mails was just a little bump on the road and surely paled beside the glaring flaws in Trump’s character.
So the Michigan rally was supposed to put the final nail in his coffin. Before a wild crowd that cheered her every sentence, she insisted that this election was unique, because whatever had happened in the past, she had “never doubted” any Republican winner’s ability to serve. This time was different, she said, before driving home her compelling point about the danger of handing nuclear launch codes to a madman.
“This is a consequential election,” Clinton proclaimed. The race was “between a strong and steady leadership and a loose cannon”. The Trump scare was so unprecedented that senior Republicans had courageously put the country first and endorsed her, she said.
After Tuesday’s shocking defeat, Clinton swallowed her doubts and fears about nuclear war in a concession speech that was lauded for upholding graceful democratic principles. Trump, she said, must be given a chance to serve. But while her statement invoked the highest values, it shattered her Michigan rhetoric into pieces.
In other words, the two speeches neutralised each other. If one of them was true, the other must be a lie. Which one was true and which one was a lie we can’t be quite sure. Can it be that both were lies? Yes. Can it be that both were heartfelt and true? No, it can’t.
Here’s a crucial part of her much-praised concession speech: “Donald Trump is going to be our president. We owe him an open mind and the chance to lead. Our constitutional democracy enshrines the peaceful transfer of power.”
Here’s my amendment to that, to make it remotely compatible with the Michigan speech: “Donald Trump is going to be a loose-cannon president with nuclear launch codes at his fingertips, but we owe him an open mind, which I failed to suggest when speaking in Michigan. Of course, the country must come first, but it has to give way to our constitutional democracy, which enshrines the peaceful transfer of power.”
Meanwhile, for her speech on the eve of the election to be consistent with this one, it should have gone like this: “Although I seriously doubt that Donald Trump is fit to serve, I’m going to ask you not to share that doubt and instead give him a chance to be our president in the unlikely event that I lose.”
You may argue that even my proposed statements must entail reading between the lines. Of course, as politically incorrect as I may have sounded, I was holding something back. The Michigan speech could have been revved up a notch with “You will be on your own if Donald Trump becomes the next president.” The concession speech could have simply told Americans that they are on their own now.
As for Trump, what can I say? How it went from “Lock her up” to Hillary is a worthy opponent who fought a good fight, only his speechwriters can tell. I stand corrected, though, if he was merely playing the gracious winner and has not actually dropped his vow, repeated over and over during the campaign, to put her in jail.
Just a word of caution, though. Trump won the presidency by being unconventional and rude, which struck a chord with voters tired of conventional political ways. With their decision many Trump voters were saying “To hell with political correctness! Just don’t pretend and don’t be too greedy. And try to actually work for us and not the banks.”
Here’s hoping his speechwriters got the message. Four years means a lot of speeches to write, after all.