My methods work (as if any of you doubted it). A speech I drafted for Sir John Sawers on the broad themes of Technology, Security, Freedom has won a 2016 Cicero Award over in the USA under the Public Policy heading.
The Cicero 2016 Grand Award went to Dain Dunston for his impressive speech about speechwriting to the 2015 Professional Speechwriters Association in Washington, as reported previously here.
For reasons not entirely clear to me, this John Sawers’ speech attracted almost no media interest despite plenty of sharp substance. But you can read most of it via the Vital Speeches link above or over at Prospect:
Some people also argue that if state surveillance did not stop the Paris attacks, what good is it? But, to make an analogy, no goalkeeper has a perfect record. Even the finest can be beaten by a top-class shot or a freakish deflection. That does not make them a bad goalkeeper, or the idea of goalkeeping redundant.
I do not want to downplay reasonable concerns. But technologies that empower us also empower our enemies. We can track down people like Mohammed Emwazi, known as “Jihadi John.” But you and your children are only a few clicks away from people who use 3D printers to create replica guns, those who make synthetic drugs, or from Islamic State (IS) and al-Qaeda and their propaganda.
This presents an acute dilemma. Is it better to shut down this ghastly material, even if you drive it deeper into the dark web? Or should we accept that this poison is in society’s bloodstream and quietly watch what is happening and who might be infected?
Those in the intelligence and security services face this dilemma all the time. You can trust the skill and restraint of the people working day and night to protect you. Or you can further limit their powers—and pray the people working day and night to destroy our societies do not hit you, your family or your town.
Today’s security requires the use of technology to guarantee huge areas of freedom for all of us, by making difficult compromises on the margins. This is not an attack on privacy, but the only way to safeguard it while combatting the enemies of free society…
A colleague read this speech and posed a good question:
Made me wonder where the demarcation line of ideas and creativity lies between speech writer and speech-commissioner. The fact that is not apparent is a further mark of professionalism!
The answer of course is that the speech belongs to the speaker. The sassy speechwriter will invest in exploring with the speaker what the key messages need to be and how far the speaker wants to take any risks in terms of policy issues or style. Clever or radical or provocative ideas from the speechwriter may be super in themselves, but not be what this speaker wants or feels s/he can ‘own’. Once all that is clear (or as clear as it’s going to be) the actual writing begins and is not too hard.
Part of the challenge also lies in persuading the speaker that different ways to format or order the material that might not make sense to a typically high-powered logical mind in fact make lots of sense when it comes to delivering the speech for maximum impact on the day.
Take this example. Last year I helped John with another speech on broad foreign policy and security themes to be delivered at King’s College London. The transcript is here. John planned to start the speech by telling the story about how his father as a young man had joined King’s after WW2 and how the University had helped him rebuild his life after traumatic wartime experiences. Good plan. Classic way to do it – establish the personal links, then build on that!
I suggested that he do it differently: use this story to end the speech on a powerful unexpected note. And this is what he did, to terrific effect on the night:
Many friends are here tonight. But one person is not.
My father died six years ago.
He was 16 when WWII broke out. In 1942 he trained as a navigator flying Swordfish and Avenger bombers from aircraft carriers. He crossed the Atlantic from New York in a convoy. German U Boats attacked. 90 ships set sail. Fewer than 70 reached Britain.
My father almost froze to death in the North Atlantic when his own plane came down. He flew low level raids against well defended Japanese targets in Indonesia. He saw fellow ships attacked by kamikaze planes.
He was 22 when the war ended. He turned up here, at King’s College, in September 1947, still traumatised by his war time experiences.
He graduated two years later – he had his life back. He married and fathered five children. One of whom was me.
Thank you, King’s College, from all my family, for rebuilding his life. For giving him and so many young men and women like him a new start. After what he went through, my father would have smiled wryly at Theo Farrell and Laurie Freedman asking me to be a Visiting Professor of War Studies here at King’s.
Be warned. I’ve accepted the offer. I’ll be back.
All of which is by way of urging one and all to buy my book Speeches for Leaders. Hard (and signed) copies available via me or it can be bought as an ebook from Amazon.
I recently was in Warsaw and gave UK/Polish business colleagues a taste of my uncompromising #LessisMore #Aunty approach.
Here is a review of my masterclass by Michael Dembinski who kindly and courageously opened the proceedings by addressing the masterclass in his own short pre-prepared speech:
I put down my thoughts into a Word document… and found it came to well over 1,000 words. Twice as long as it should be. Cut the jokes, cut anything slightly off-topic. Cut, cut, cut and cut again. Read aloud. Trim. Does that sound natural? Edit. Trim again. Finally, I got it down to 583 words. Not another word could I chop. It read well – as an article.
Charles took a look at my wypociny. “Too long. Trim it right back to the main points, just enough to help you remember the thread of the argument.”
This I did. But having done so, I no longer had three pages of flowing prose double-spaced in 15pt Times New Roman – I had nothing but a disjointed collection of nouns and figures. The stuff connecting them I had to make up on the hoof.
And it was none the worse for that. In fact much better.
Charles also declared war on waffle, on unintelligible words, on jargon. (‘Pursuant’ is one I particularly dislike.) “Use words that you use in natural speech, as though you were speaking to your aunt.” He also suggested – and what an excellent idea – to dictate your speech into a smartphone with speech recognition software rather than typing it. That way, your speech sounds like a speech – and not like an article or position paper.
The three hour-long seminar was peppered with many insider stories from the world of diplomacy, lots of video clips of disasters and triumphs, and invaluable case studies of what to do – and what to avoid. Practical tips aplenty. Know in advance where you’ll be speaking, what the podium is like, try out the sound system and IT beforehand to check it all works as it should – and above all, who your audience is, and what it expects.
This is far more than common sense – this is experience from the very highest level, and it went down well with the trainees…
Michael also kindly wrote this interesting review of the book itself:
It’s a book that portrays story-telling as the greatest art form; it’s this art that’s used by our leaders to shape the destiny of human affairs.
The practical nuts-and-bolts stuff is crucial, and each point is illustrated by examples from recent history of leaders doing it right (Obama – “Yes we can”) and doing it wrong (Obama on the reset with Russia or David Milliband on British-Polish historical links.)
The do-nots: Don’t use words like ‘must’ and ‘need’ and ‘should’ (“The world must take action to end…” “Europe needs to promote… “We should all…”) especially if you yourself are not able to make that happen. It makes you look weak. Former Labour leader Ed Milliband did this on Twitter in the run-up to last May’s General Election. Helped lose it for him.
Don’t whinge. It makes you look like a loser. And don’t mix metaphors. “… the EU… a powerful conglomerate of various vectors and ambitions framed around a lowest common denominator, grand enough to allow it to write scenarios for others worldwide.”
Quite.
Buy the book. Commission me to write a speech. You know it makes sense.