It’s the height of the election year, which means that as the autumn winds blow in dead leaves, lonely ghosts and pumpkin spice, the changing seasons will also bring in stump speeches, attack ads and pundits whining about teleprompters.
A display device used to prompt a speaker with the lines to their speech or script, the first teleprompter was built in 1950 by Hubert Schlafly. Just four years later, Dwight Eisenhower became the first US president to use the device, in his 1954 State of the Union address. Over the decades since, technology evolved in leaps and bounds, and the teleprompter changed in step with the dawning digital era. The first computer based teleprompter was released in 1982, and they have been updating to power politicians and keynote speakers ever since.
Among the distinguished ranks of teleprompter users is this year’s Democratic nominee for the presidency, former Vice President Joe Biden. This does not make him unusual, yet following his acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention it suddenly became a high profile attack tactic from members of the opposing party.
Attacks on teleprompter use, typically coming from the Right Wing, are nothing new. It was a frequent criticism faced by President Barack Obama. The general argument seems to be that “real, authentic” speakers ought not to need such assistance, speaking straight from their head to the people. I will decline to further comment on the irony of such critiques in light of certain contemporary figures who struggle to speak coherently even when forced to read from a teleprompter, as that is not the purpose of this piece. I digress.
Now, for a moment, shift your mind from the bright lights of national politics and turn to a more familiar, personal moment – the presentation. It probably started in late elementary school, a book report was likely the first. Sweaty palms, rapid breathing, the fluorescent ceiling lights suddenly seeming all too bright – from the nervous student in the middle school classroom to the CEO at the national convention, the details may change, but the essence remains the same.
Such presentations always found me terribly intimidated. A mix of speech impediments and social anxiety left me shaking in my figurative boots at the prospect of giving a speech in front of my class. Overtime, I grew in confidence and in skill. While I may not be the finest public speaker today, I can hold my own. And one thing above all else that I learned along the way is that the best way to perfect your own speaking when on stage is to pay attention when in the audience.
Not just to great speakers, mind you, to the bad ones as well. When you feel your mind start to wonder, when you’ve lost interest and can’t quite remember what it was you came here to hear about, those are the times to listen closest. Unlock what it is that the speaker has done to lose you as an audience. Learn to avoid those pitfalls and integrate what you see in successful speakers to get the optimum effect.
One thing you will very quickly pick up from watching many speakers is the ability to tell who is prepared. Presenting a well-prepared speech can make all the difference in the world – A speaker who has no clue what they’re talking about can seem like a pro, while an expert with a bad presentation can appear clueless and be ignored. Preparation is also key to combatting the nerves that hold back so many. And while some talented orators can perfectly memorize epic speeches, very few have that skill, and the trusty notes that carried centuries of speakers past ultimately break the flow and eye contact with the audience.
So then why do we find ourselves hearing time and again that this sort of preparation, this level of professionalism, is somehow a sign of weakness? The argument is made that a rambling, off-the-cuff, unassisted speech or address speaks better to “the common man.” But ultimately, the implication lies that the general public is made up of bad speakers, and that they should be drawn to leaders who speak “like them.”
Not only is this notion incredibly condescending, it undermines the primary purpose of communication. If the actual message is not being conveyed, if the speaker cannot stay on topic and get their point across, it is all, to borrow from Shakespeare, sound and fury, signifying nothing. No amount of relatability can replace the breakdown of communication that occurs when the public is unable to follow what they’re told – a breakdown that only benefits those in power who wish to keep listeners in the dark.
So perhaps its well-past time we rethink the framing of teleprompters in our political discourse and start a return to the championing of professionalism and preparedness. Remember this advice for your own future speeches and presentations. Then take that same standard and apply it to those seeking your vote. It will only bring out the best for all of us.
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