The last corona press conference had not yet ended last weekend when the first reviewers already reported: ‘communication’ had apparently been dramatic again.
A popular angle, all year round: not corona would be the problem, but communication about corona.
This time, RIVM director Jaap van Dissel, ‘the national doctor’, had been given a role alongside Prime Minister Mark Rutte and Minister Hugo de Jonge. He said something unclear about vaccines and a different coat, and what the communication experts did not approve at all: he also used difficult words.
Because according to this professional group, and every minister and parliamentary group consults them, people are only suitable for a public performance if they all speak the same robotic language of short sentences and words with few syllables. Practiced simplicity. Flawless from the course.
Not that I think unnecessary complexity is necessary, but you can also imagine that a little jargon gives experts credibility. When everyone starts talking like the master of rehearsed simplicity, Donald Trump (“I love words, I have the best words”), then you get more clarity, but I don’t know how it ends with integrity.
Only: these kinds of reservations are clearly no longer a benchmark in The Hague. In Tuesday’s parliamentary debate about the lockdown, I argued that the importance of (better) communication passed fourteen times.
In the corona strategy there must be “more participation” from – among others – “communication professionals”, said For example Attje Kuiken (PvdA). “We have to look at communication,” Hugo de Jonge agreed guiltily.
Fascinating it is. The makeability of society died as an idea some thirty years ago. The feasibility of virus control is also rather disappointing. But the belief in the feasibility of government communication is apparently still unlimited.
It can all be traced back to the professionalization of politics that emerged after the turn of the century. The idea that ‘expert communication’ is a precondition for The Hague’s success: a mixture of politics and advertising in which everything revolves around the systematic repetition of one’s own story (‘the core message’).
It is thinking in terms of target groups: determine who you want to reach, then choose your message. And communicate in visual language: pay attention to your posture, clothing and styling – what people see determines what people hear.
Kay van der Linde, who returned to the Netherlands in 2000 after years of political consultancy in the US, made this approach big in The Hague. He wrote an advice for the VVD (‘repetition, repetition, repetition’) but that party rejected him. For example, in 2001 he became an advisor to Pim Fortuyn, who taught him the tricks of the trade. The rest is history.
Fortuyn’s campaign breakthrough (and tragic death) in 2002 led to a turning point. Politicians followed his example: the secret language disappeared from The Hague, clarity and repetition became the standard, and politicians, like Fortuyn, made their own self-enlargement the starting point.
A revolution after the revolution. At the time there were nine parliamentary groups, now there are nineteen: from now on all politicians think in terms of target groups. They speak simply and think about their appearance. Before each interview, they go through with information what they are going to say to be successful: communication experts have taken over politics.
The point is, this has been going on for so long, including in the government, that people have figured it out. It fuels suspicion. They notice that they are no longer addressed as residents of the country, but as the target of a communication strategy. The professionalization of politics turns against politics itself.
You see it, how paradoxical, best reflected in the protest against The Hague. Organizations such as Farmers Defense Force (FDF) and Viruswaard largely copy the Hague laws of political communication. They also know that by magnifying yourself you generate attention. They also constantly repeat their core message and pay special attention to their own target group.
Coincidentally, I ran into it myself this year. NRC was taken to court by FDF after a piece of me. During the process, we went from one surprise to another. For example, the FDF representative claimed at the hearing that as a newspaper you could not automatically attribute a statement by the FDF chairman to FDF. The judge dismissed the claim. Later a similar procedure against D66 leader Sigrid Kaag had the same outcome.
After this it turned out that the FDF chairman is indeed making himself much bigger than he is during the farmers’ campaigns: in mid-term elections in his municipality in Brabant, I wrote here recently, the man only got 103 votes in November: zero seats.
Then it happened: someone from the world of FDF reacted. He pointed to the offensive announcements of the lawsuits against NRC and Kaag on the FDF site, and explained why they are conducting these hopeless procedures: “you seem like a powerful club,” he said, and sympathizers respond to donation requests: “It’s fundraising.”
It reminded me of a message in the Telegraph in October, which revealed that the Public Prosecution Service is investigating the Virus Truth Foundation of Willem Engel – also an expert on the laws of political communication. The foundation is said to have provided Engel, who denies, a loan of 50,000 euros from funds that have come in through donations.
For example, the communication methods of governments, politicians and activists have come to resemble each other more and more. The only difference is that activists raise money with the attention they generate, and politicians vote.
So if there’s anything you can learn from this year, it’s that the idea of ’makeable government communications’ is not only absurd, but also exaggerated. And that behind this lies a question for governments and political parties about their credibility.
For the laws of political communication have the potential to undermine their intellectual integrity as well. They tempt governments and parties to no longer automatically start from themselves, from their own views and policy analyses, but from the presumed preferences of their supporters or the population.
For example, among the growing number of parties, there are more and more parties that, in sensitive cases, make their positions partly dependent on the views of their supposed supporters.
And it would be healthy if parties dare to turn this around again: that they look for voters by their ideals, and not ideals by their voters. The own authenticity above the last communicative law.
For the government, especially in such a sensitive matter as corona, such an attitude can also turn out to be surprisingly healthy. Only rely on expert policy analysis, explain why choices are made, ignore what polls say about those choices.
Set the tone based on the facts, a rational analysis, the wisest choice: politicians who are only after that know that the solution is not so much better thought-out communication, but less communication – and more authenticity in action and presentation.
Because now that too many people know that administrators see them as an object of government communication rather than as adult citizens, autonomy and authenticity on sensitive issues may work wonderfully well.
A version of this article also appeared in NRC Handelsblad of 24 December 2021
A version of this article also appeared in NRC in the morning of December 24, 2021
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