Daniel Dieppe is a researcher for the think tank Civitas.
Recently, on The Rest Is History podcast, Dominic Sandbrook compared the EU referendum debates of 1975 with 2016. “There is no comparison whatsoever”, Sandbrook lamented, “The standard in 1975, to say that it’s above that of 2016, is to massively undersell it.”
Why has our political debate become so trivialised?
There are, to be clear, a number of reasons why. As Sandbrook points out, the standard of politicians has declined. MPs have become younger, more come from political careers, and more are appointed candidates through gender or racial diversity schemes.
If anything, however, there are far more reasons why debate should be superior today. MPs on average employ four taxpayer-funded staffers, usually including a full-time research assistant; back in 1975, funds for Parliamentary staff had only just been introduced. MPs have access to far better technology, including phones, computers, the internet, and the power of artificial intelligence. None of this, it is hardly worth saying, was available half a century ago.
Rather than enhance debate, technology has enabled substantial discussion to be replaced by shallow soundbites. Just listen to the Commons debate last month about Keir Starmer’s appointment of Peter Mandelson as US Ambassador. The main talking point, rather than the details of the debate, was the fact that two MPs were kicked out the chamber for calling the Prime Minister a ‘liar’.
The sad truth is these MPs knew it would generate more views to act disorderly in the chamber than to take part in the debate. Accountability of Keir Starmer, one could say, was better provided through a cheap political stunt than using the chamber for its original purpose. Both MPs posted their misbehaviour on Twitter (now X), and gained millions of views.
Politicians have exploited the soundbite long before Twitter came along. Tony Blair, the self-styled “modern man, from the rock ‘n’ roll generation”, was legendary at getting his soundbites onto television. In one infamous example, after signing the Good Friday Agreement, Blair commented in the space of 11 seconds: “A day like today is not a day for soundbites, really. We can leave those at home but… I feel the hand of history upon our shoulder.”
Even before Blair, it was Ronald Reagan who perfected the soundbite. Reagan, a former actor, made for a brilliant President in the age of television. The 1984 Presidential debate is remembered more than anything else for Reagan’s superb one-liner: “I am not going to exploit for political purposes my opponent’s youth and inexperience.”
While it is undoubtedly important for national leaders to be good media performers, it has undeniably come at the high cost of informed political debate. Video prioritises good looks, the ability to grab attention and ‘give off’ good vibes. Political debates are compared to boxing matches, the main question being ‘who KO’d whom?’
One man who noticed this problem 46 years ago was Donald Trump, who wisely recognised that “Abraham Lincoln would probably not be electable today because of television. He was not a handsome man, and he did not smile at all. He would not be considered to be a prime candidate for the presidency, and that’s a shame, isn’t it?”
Trump was right. If one can see a gulf in debate between now and 1975, comparing it with Lincoln’s time reveals a chasm. In a series of debates with Democrat Senator Stephen Douglas in 1858, Lincoln and his opponent each spoke for two or three hours at a time, plus rebuttal. As Neil Postman dryly records in his book Amusing Ourselves to Death, “Is there any audience of Americans today who could endure seven hours of talk? Or five? Or three? Especially without pictures of any kind?”
The nineteenth-century America in which Lincoln operated was remarkably literate. As part of being a Protestant nation, everyone was expected to read the Bible. Libraries specifically for the working classes were established around the country. When Charles Dickens visited in 1842, he was cheered like “a King or Emperor”, much like film celebrities of today.
It was a similar situation in Britain. As Jonathan Rose records in The Intellectual Life of the British Working Classes, there were over 100 libraries funded by miners in South Wales alone by 1934, despite their low pay. In 1899, Boots the chemist set up their Boots Booklovers’ Library, expanding to around half their pharmacies within just a few years and, at their height, exchanging 35 million books a year.
Print, it must be said, is a far superior form of truth-telling. There is no space for little soundbites that fail to convey a deeper meaning. It requires people to remain immobile, to focus and engage with the orderly arrangement of facts. It was this print-based culture that enabled average citizens to listen to hours of Lincoln’s complicated political debates without faltering.
There have, of course, been some positives to new technologies. Social media, after all, caused millions to watch Danny Kruger’s majestic ‘Empty Chamber’ speech last year. Podcasts and long-form video have improved the quality of interviews with politicians, removing ‘gotcha’ journalism, and helping repair our attention spans.
But overall, the trend is clear. Forty years ago, every major newspaper had a dedicated page to following Parliamentary debates, long since phased out. Podcast hosts often earn more money than a book advance. And like anything else these days, podcasts draw in viewers through little 30-second soundbites of the most alarming things said on the show.
Culture is measured, Neil Postman posits, “by what it claims as significant”. For us, that is not ideas, facts, or debate, but increasingly vibes and entertainment. It’s time to end the political soundbite.
Daniel Dieppe is a researcher for the think tank Civitas.
Recently, on The Rest Is History podcast, Dominic Sandbrook compared the EU referendum debates of 1975 with 2016. “There is no comparison whatsoever”, Sandbrook lamented, “The standard in 1975, to say that it’s above that of 2016, is to massively undersell it.”
Why has our political debate become so trivialised?
There are, to be clear, a number of reasons why. As Sandbrook points out, the standard of politicians has declined. MPs have become younger, more come from political careers, and more are appointed candidates through gender or racial diversity schemes.
If anything, however, there are far more reasons why debate should be superior today. MPs on average employ four taxpayer-funded staffers, usually including a full-time research assistant; back in 1975, funds for Parliamentary staff had only just been introduced. MPs have access to far better technology, including phones, computers, the internet, and the power of artificial intelligence. None of this, it is hardly worth saying, was available half a century ago.
Rather than enhance debate, technology has enabled substantial discussion to be replaced by shallow soundbites. Just listen to the Commons debate last month about Keir Starmer’s appointment of Peter Mandelson as US Ambassador. The main talking point, rather than the details of the debate, was the fact that two MPs were kicked out the chamber for calling the Prime Minister a ‘liar’.
The sad truth is these MPs knew it would generate more views to act disorderly in the chamber than to take part in the debate. Accountability of Keir Starmer, one could say, was better provided through a cheap political stunt than using the chamber for its original purpose. Both MPs posted their misbehaviour on Twitter (now X), and gained millions of views.
Politicians have exploited the soundbite long before Twitter came along. Tony Blair, the self-styled “modern man, from the rock ‘n’ roll generation”, was legendary at getting his soundbites onto television. In one infamous example, after signing the Good Friday Agreement, Blair commented in the space of 11 seconds: “A day like today is not a day for soundbites, really. We can leave those at home but… I feel the hand of history upon our shoulder.”
Even before Blair, it was Ronald Reagan who perfected the soundbite. Reagan, a former actor, made for a brilliant President in the age of television. The 1984 Presidential debate is remembered more than anything else for Reagan’s superb one-liner: “I am not going to exploit for political purposes my opponent’s youth and inexperience.”
While it is undoubtedly important for national leaders to be good media performers, it has undeniably come at the high cost of informed political debate. Video prioritises good looks, the ability to grab attention and ‘give off’ good vibes. Political debates are compared to boxing matches, the main question being ‘who KO’d whom?’
One man who noticed this problem 46 years ago was Donald Trump, who wisely recognised that “Abraham Lincoln would probably not be electable today because of television. He was not a handsome man, and he did not smile at all. He would not be considered to be a prime candidate for the presidency, and that’s a shame, isn’t it?”
Trump was right. If one can see a gulf in debate between now and 1975, comparing it with Lincoln’s time reveals a chasm. In a series of debates with Democrat Senator Stephen Douglas in 1858, Lincoln and his opponent each spoke for two or three hours at a time, plus rebuttal. As Neil Postman dryly records in his book Amusing Ourselves to Death, “Is there any audience of Americans today who could endure seven hours of talk? Or five? Or three? Especially without pictures of any kind?”
The nineteenth-century America in which Lincoln operated was remarkably literate. As part of being a Protestant nation, everyone was expected to read the Bible. Libraries specifically for the working classes were established around the country. When Charles Dickens visited in 1842, he was cheered like “a King or Emperor”, much like film celebrities of today.
It was a similar situation in Britain. As Jonathan Rose records in The Intellectual Life of the British Working Classes, there were over 100 libraries funded by miners in South Wales alone by 1934, despite their low pay. In 1899, Boots the chemist set up their Boots Booklovers’ Library, expanding to around half their pharmacies within just a few years and, at their height, exchanging 35 million books a year.
Print, it must be said, is a far superior form of truth-telling. There is no space for little soundbites that fail to convey a deeper meaning. It requires people to remain immobile, to focus and engage with the orderly arrangement of facts. It was this print-based culture that enabled average citizens to listen to hours of Lincoln’s complicated political debates without faltering.
There have, of course, been some positives to new technologies. Social media, after all, caused millions to watch Danny Kruger’s majestic ‘Empty Chamber’ speech last year. Podcasts and long-form video have improved the quality of interviews with politicians, removing ‘gotcha’ journalism, and helping repair our attention spans.
But overall, the trend is clear. Forty years ago, every major newspaper had a dedicated page to following Parliamentary debates, long since phased out. Podcast hosts often earn more money than a book advance. And like anything else these days, podcasts draw in viewers through little 30-second soundbites of the most alarming things said on the show.
Culture is measured, Neil Postman posits, “by what it claims as significant”. For us, that is not ideas, facts, or debate, but increasingly vibes and entertainment. It’s time to end the political soundbite.