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For the love of metaphor

The literary device is a built-in, compact way to tell a story. Which is what you should be going for in the public arena.

Certain arguments stick in people's minds. That stickiness is often not due to data. It’s often not the facts. It’s almost always the image — the vivid, unexpected comparison that makes an abstract idea feel real and memorable.

Communicators — especially in science, medicine, and public policy — chronically underuse the metaphor. They lead with evidence and expect persuasion to follow. But the psychology of communication doesn’t work that way. The human brain is wired for stories.

Former U.S. Senator Ben Sasse

Or look at the newly elected mayor of New York City, Zohran Mamdani, who did a lot of things in his inaugural speech on Jan. 1.

A key point he got across was the need for unity and used food to paint a picture. Lines from his speech:

  • “neighbors who carry a plate of food to the elderly…”
  • “those who feed us biryani and beef patties, picanha and pastrami on rye.”
  • “cooks wielding a thousand spices”
  • New York as the city where he “ate powdered doughnuts…devoured too-big slices at Koronet…and [grew] up eating bagels and lox every Sunday.”

Food references indicated he would be mayor of all New Yorkers, even if they didn’t vote for him.

The art part of political conversation

The disciplines most in need of this skill — science, public health, policy, sometimes law — can be the ones most resistant to it. The well-trained expert mind is taught to argue from evidence. The scientific method. More data, more proof, more qualifications.

But if education, persuasion, or activation is your goal, the metaphor is a memorable storytelling device that achieves the communicator’s triangle: be simple, connect with a distracted audience, and strum an emotional chord.

,   &  Kevin Nix
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It really does come down to the words

When it comes to the importance of words, Mark Twain noted the "difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.”

The question is what words do your audience need to hear to do the thing you want them to do —not what words do you want to use to sound smart or feel better?  

Great communicators meet people where they are in their own thinking and in the words they use. 

One of my least favorite million-dollar words coming from politicians is “unconscionable.” I would guess most people don’t know what this means. That means you’ve lost them. Why not just say “grossly unfair,” “makes your blood boil,” or just plain “wrong?”

Politicians on TV also love the construction “make no mistake,” followed by something like “this won’t stand” or “we will fight!”

Okay, but nobody talks like that. Who goes around the office saying “make no mistake!”

A Washington Post piece cites some taking issue with the words “intersectional,” “equity,” and “Latinx.” Half of the Latino population has never heard of “Latinx,” and only 4% use it, according to the Pew Research Center.

It makes complete sense if nonprofits and insiders want to use terms like “intersectionality” or “equity” to help get funding or build a constituency. Many professional areas have their own nomenclature.

The problem comes when you expand the net of people you’re talking to. If your goal is to inform, persuade, or mobilize on a bigger scale—the general public or even broad demographics or psychographics—you’ve got to read the room.

On democracy, same issue. A must-read piece by Matt Watkins in the Chronicle of Philanthropy walks through the hazy, intra movement words used publicly, including "fortifying civic infrastructure,” and “defending democratic norms.” (Watkins provides alternative phrases.)

Organizations that don't test the language and framing probably aren't achieving their public advocacy mission, if their goal is to persuade everyday people. If you use words people don’t know or sound awkward, you’re obviously doing a poor job of advocating, communicating, and connecting with them. They ignore you. Or get confused. Either way, message doesn’t sink in.  

,   &  Kevin Nix
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The curse of knowledge

Knowledge is certainly a blessing. But it can also be a curse for AI scientists, academics, and intellectuals.

I love doctors and scientists.

But, beyond egos, they share something in common: They’re not the most riveting public communicators in the world. 

I’m throwing a massive generalization around with reckless abandon. There are plenty of exceptions. But in my experience, the highly educated, technical professions tend to struggle with public messaging. It's why strategic communications and branding experts exist– and why advertising is a multi-billion dollar business.

The well-educated brain is taught to make an argument and back it up with evidence. The more data and facts the better. The disciplines of science, medicine, and academia demand it.

But on the public stage, dumping data or evidence alone on an audience rarely works. You’ve got to do the work —and it is that—to make a subject matter accessible to folks you’re speaking to, whether on CNN, in a speech, or on social media. Most important is how your audience receives information, not how you want to deliver it. 

I’m not talking about dumbing anything down. I’m talking about repacking concepts, translating them into plain speak with a narrative thread. The human brain is wired for stories. People need a narrative to connect with--one that sings with emotion, simplicity, and relevance. 

The movement for marriage equality started out focusing its message on the 1,000 sterile rights and benefits that come with marriage. But that wasn’t working. 

The movement then shifted its message to one of love, commitment, and family, using real couples and their supportive moms, dads, grandparents, and allies in the military and business to humanize those values. The rest, as you know, is history.

A similar course correction happened with the Covid vaccine. The national communications strategy initially was explaining Covid-19 science and data to persuade an entire nation to get a new vaccine. That fell flat in many communities. The more effective approach was about telling personal stories–humanizing the issue and making it real.

Those in science and medicine tend to skip the step between what the proverbial research lab shows and what the public needs to hear, care about it, and take action on. Unlike the business world of products and services, they forgo the translation process required to bring their ideas to market.

Many heady professionals think they’re the smartest people in the room. But if they actually want to be the smartest person in the room, they would be wise to invest in messaging strategy and storytelling magic.

,   &  Kevin Nix
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