The Clinton presidential campaigns that involved our favorite philandering candidate were heavily influenced by Hollywood storytelling. The Bloodworth-Thomasons of Arkansas and Designing Women fame were Bill n’ Hill’s story gurus. Stephanopoulos and Carville tossed out cinematic lingo--storyline, theme, frames, arcs, twists and turns and three-act structure--with the casual ease of Sunset Strip bartenders. Dreamworks’ Jeffrey Katzenberg bundled for them like he packaged films for stars like Eddie Murphy and Mike Myers. Wild Bill yakked on his sax, talked about his underwear to the kids, of his rockabilly upbringing in A Town Called Hope and delivered a personal narrative straight out of the soaps. So trashy. So wrong. We couldn’t not tune in. We bought it like eight seasons of Happy Days.
Live by the story, die by the story.
The Clintons know they have a story problem, and have set about addressing it in the most intelligent possible ways, which is their standard. For example, they understand that in the highly volatile, 24/7 cycles of socially mediated news, the old Hollywood story model doesn’t work any more. The Bloodworth-Thomasons are nowhere to be seen on this campaign. Instead, we’ve got a network TV series about a wise and super-savvy female Secretary of State whose origins are untraceable to the Clinton Machine. What, that thing on TV? That just happened. They know they can’t be seen scripting, that these things have to be ‘organic.’ And ‘authentic.’ That grandbaby? That baby just happened! That baby’s origins will be as untraceable to the Clinton Machine as the next episode of Madam Secretary. It’s an intelligent machine like that.
Hillary knows that it’s a smart story move to replace the role of Big Daddy with Big Data. Big Daddy was always hot and volatile. His excessive appetites got him in trouble. Big Data is cool, asexual, and does not binge on Big Macs like Big Daddy once did. Hillary knows that any insights derived from Big Data are best-believed when delivered by a whiz kid, so that’s who she cast in the role. Mook. The Mookster. The Mookie Monster.
Hillary is, I imagine, fully aware that having three central characters in the story will generate more material for the audience than one Angry Elderly Socialist Jew and his Band of Disrespectful Children. Between rounds, I imagine the Clintons are feeling smug and satisfied that they have cornered the old boy where they can hit him high, low and in the gut, and he can’t see it coming, that they’ll soon have him on the defensive, and there will be nowhere and no way for him to run.
And yet…despite all this intelligent campaigning, all the smart moves made and the traps laid and the money well spent, Hillary still has a story problem. What is it?
It’s this: Her story is designed for thinking audiences, and audiences don’t want to think, they want to feel.
Here’s a breakdown of the problem:
There are three levels of meaning at work in any good story: Information, Emotion and Meta levels of meaning. The Information level is where Big Data lives. It is where logical arguments are made, and empirical evidence accumulates. Polls and their results are found here. Trend analysis, too. And Robbie Mook.
The Emotional level is where most meaning resides. When we communicate on this level, our audience’s brains aren’t just storing information, the brain’s chemistry changes, and with it, possibilities for future action. When we have an emotional response to a story, we are more likely to take action than when we are fed information and expected to respond to it.
The Meta level is where one story connects to many other stories. The use of metaphor and symbolism happens on this level. A story about a President who wears Ray Bans and plays the sax on late night television connects with any story ever told about multi-talented executives.
Hillary’s story problem is that she’s counting on Information to carry her story. The Onion throws deep satire at this idea. She has these incredible credentials, why is she not inspiring people? It’s because a person’s history is Information, and inspiration comes from the Emotional level of meaning, where Hillary is weakest. Conversely, this level of meaning is where Bernie Sanders is strongest. Plus he’s got that Meta thing of Mad as Hell and Not Going to Take It Any More going for him. Which is why he is currently the more inspiring of the two Democratic candidates, and has been able to grow his voter and fundraising base.
(Let’s not cross over into Trumpville here, except to say that Trump communicates almost entirely on the Emotional and Meta levels. He barely bothers with Information, or cares whether it’s accurate.)
For Mrs. Clinton to resolve her story problem, she’s going to have to change her game. The game she’s currently playing isn’t generating good story outcomes for people waiting (as Undecideds) to be moved because she’s giving them what’s in her head and audiences hunger for what’s in a person’s heart.
If, as she has begun doing, Mrs. Clinton cedes the Emotional level of her story to her husband and others, she runs the risk of making her story problem worse, because it will only further highlight what she is missing. Besides, the best Bill can deliver is a diminished version of his former self. A Not the President We Remember vibe.
“I am woman” is information.
“Hear me roar” is meta language that says Seventies.
Mrs. Clinton’s quest as a candidate is to locate and tap into the missing emotional beats in her story. This is not something her powerful intellect, or her rhetorical invulnerability, can help her with. She has to get in touch with what’s in her heart, so that she can touch others. She has to let herself be vulnerable, and understand that vulnerability and weakness are not the same.