Because winning requires “sounds right” reasoning
It’s not enough that what you have to say feels right. It must also sound right. “Feeling right” is an emotional thing. “Sounding right” is a logic thing.
In this chapter, you’ll discover how to make things sound right with drop-’em-in-their-tracks, argument-winning tricks.
“LOGIC IS IN THE EYE OF THE LOGICIAN.”
—GLORIA STEINEM
When the guys on the Wilson High quad weren’t talking about girls, we were exploring the magic and mystery of logic. Can you find faulty logic in this classic story that has baffled me since ninth grade? Our math teacher, Mr. Huffman, had an explanation that still rings true: Logic is both magical and mysterious.
It was a dark and stormy night. Seeking refuge from a worsening storm, three men—strangers to each other—raced into a small hotel at the same time.
The clerk tells the three men that only one room is left. A $30 room. The men agreed to share the room. Each man handed the clerk $10.
Minutes after going to the room, there was a knock on the door. It was the bellboy who said, “The desk clerk made a terrible mistake. The room is only $25.” The bellboy then placed five $1 bills on a table.
Each man picked up a dollar. The remaining $2 was given to the bellboy as a tip.
The next day, one of the men told the story to his wife, “I originally paid $10, but I got back $1. So I paid $9 and contributed one-third of the $2 tip.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Three times the $9 you each paid is $27. And the $2 tip the bellboy got makes it a total of $29. What happened to the other $1?”
Logic is both truth and fiction. Reality and illusion. Magic and mystery. What seems logical to me may not seem logical to you. Logic doesn’t exist in the abstract, but in the eye of the logician.
Have you ever walked out of a meeting without the faintest idea of what you were supposed to do? Or why you were there in the first place?
A theme puts your argument’s focus where it belongs—on the forest, not the trees. Without a theme, the individual trees distract from your core argument. Set forth your theme in the simplest language possible. Every word that doesn’t advance your argument hurts it.
In an example from the Wall Street Journal, a man murders his uncle and claims his share of the inheritance as provided for in the will. The dead uncle’s wife’s theme argument: A man shouldn’t profit from his misdeed. The nephew’s theme argument: A court must not thwart a dead man’s wishes.
If there is an obvious weakness to your theme, concede it up-front. This allows the other side to focus on the facts supporting your theme: The uncle knew his nephew’s propensity for violent behavior but didn’t provide for disinheriting him should he act violently with the uncle.
“Eric the Bore” was my co-chair for a charity fundraiser. I spent a week with Eric one afternoon. At least, it seemed like a week. Eric is a rambler who leaves nothing out and then repeats what he said. I quickly tuned him out. It’s more comfortable to jump to conclusions than suffer “death by a thousand words.”
We need to have our say in order to vent our emotions, establish human contact, and feel in touch. We need to express ourselves to gain the approval of others, to display our intellect, and to give evidence of our skill and virtue. So let me ask you this: Just what do you expect to gain by using up someone else’s valuable time to satisfy your personal needs?
Most of us say too much. We don’t stick to the point. We tell others much more than they need or want to know. And we use 30 percent more words than are needed to drive our point home.
TV broadcasters know that attention spans are short. We seldom have any desire to hear the whole story. Here’s part of a television newscast schedule that was broadcast to a region of 3 million viewers:
Arrests made at crack house: 18 seconds.
Suspect surrenders in shooting and robbery of tourist: 13 seconds.
Teacher suspended for carrying concealed weapon: 59 seconds.
Fire in Everglades almost out: 27 seconds.
Lifeguards rescue 50 people from strong riptides: 17 seconds.
Robbers nabbed outside grocery store: 23 seconds.
Flooding in Illinois: 16 seconds.
Nelson Mandela made a speech on the day he was released from a South African prison after 27 years of confinement. The historic speech that marked the end to apartheid lasted less than five minutes.
People repeat themselves to emphasize their logic. But they end up over-expressing themselves. Impact increases with one or two repetitions of an idea. After that, your thoughts will be suffocated by too many words.
Are you getting ready to ramble? Tune into what you’re saying. Here are a few red flags that you are about to over-express yourself: To be quite honest with you, Basically, Essentially, Frankly.
But what if you can’t find just the right words? Silence is better than puffy fillers, go-nowhere words, uhhs, and umms. Recall the lesson of David and the ancient masters. A still center empowers you to have the sense of self-command to make your argument, then shut up. When do you stop? When you feel you’ve said almost enough.
Back in the neighborhood
“It’s a trade-off: A multiplex means more traffic and more noise. On the other hand, you won’t have to drive a few miles to see a movie on Saturday night.”
The New Zealand captain of the Exciter—a super-fast Bay of Islands tour boat—had a warning for us passengers that was concise, clear, and most convincing: “Arms make a funny squishing sound when hung outside the boat while docking.”
Some Americans who applauded air strikes in Afghanistan were opposed to putting U.S. ground troops in harm’s way. One military spokesperson’s compelling “boots on the ground” argument: No one has ever surrendered to an airplane.
The anti-rape campaign at Ohio State University produced brochures, pamphlets, and speeches. But 200 urinal screens were printed with what could best be described as a truly grabbing message: “You hold the power to stop rape in your hand.”
On a Greek island cruise, Gary, a ventriloquist, and his dummy, Homer, somehow said it all.
Homer: I heard the president’s speech last night. It lasted an hour and a half.
Gary: An hour and a half?! What was his speech about?
Homer: He didn’t say.
Maybe Gary and Homer’s routine was inspired by President John Adams’s inaugural address. It had one sentence that was 727 words long! Confusing motion for progress, Fidel Castro began his speech to the United Nations by saying, “Although it has been said of us that we speak at great length, you may rest assured we shall endeavor to be brief.” He then spoke for four hours and 29 minutes.
One day someone may try to present you with the Christopher Columbus Award. My advice: Turn away and run! The award is no honor. It’s given to would-be persuaders who have no idea where they’re going; upon arriving, don’t know where they are; and when finishing up, haven’t a clue where they’ve been.
To avoid being a Christopher Columbus Award recipient, the next time you seek to get others to think what you think, strive instead to pass the Business Card Test:
To start, write your core argument (why your neighbors should oppose the multiplex), on the back of a business card. If your core argument doesn’t fit, then it’s vague and uncertain. Work to clarify, sharpen, and simplify it.
Here’s how to craft a core argument that passes the test:
You have facts and you have an analysis. Now ask yourself: What do I conclude from all of this? Once you reach your conclusion, you’re still a ways from being done.
The next step is to ask yourself: What do I conclude from that conclusion? By repeating this process several more times, you will strip away all superfluous data, leaving only your core argument.
Back in the neighborhood
“If a multiplex theatre is built, our neighborhood will surely suffer.”
If your core argument passes the Business Card Test, give yourself a pat on the back. It’s never easy to turn your prize ox into a bouillon cube. Being able to accurately simplify your thoughts is an intellectual achievement.
Here are five of my favorite logic tricks for crafting a bulletproof core argument.
Trace evidence of material used to make bombs was found in the wreckage of TWA Flight 800. The Paris-bound plane left New York and exploded off the coast of Long Island, killing all 230 people aboard. The conclusion reached by some experts: If there was bomb residue, then the plane was blown up. It was later determined that the telltale bomb residue was left by a U.S. military unit that had chartered the plane earlier.
If something is possible without special effort, then it must be possible with effort: A small child easily learns Spanish when it is her native language. Certainly then, a non-Hispanic college student could easily learn Spanish. (Author’s note: I am living proof of the fallacy of this logic. I faithfully attended class. I sought the help of Señora Shallenberger, a tutor, who gave soul and authenticity to my lessons by wearing a silver tiara and a black Spanish-lace shawl. Despite all this, I died an excruciating death in Spanish III.)
If the subject is abortion, the big issue is whether the subject of the abortion is a “what” or a “who.” If the subject is a “what” (something that isn’t yet human), then a freedom of choice can be advocated. If you define the subject as a “who” (a human being), then abortion could be condemned as manslaughter.
Pro-choice advocates argue that you define a human as having characteristics A, B, C, and D. Because an embryo at the instant of conception has none of these characteristics, it’s not yet human.
Pro-life activists argue that at the moment of conception, the embryo possesses all the genetic material necessary to be a human being.
Pro-life advocates argue that if we kill defenseless embryos, how can any member of society expect to be treated with compassion and mercy?
Pro-choice advocates argue that if a woman is denied freedom of choice within her own body, how safe are any of our freedoms?
In both arguments, the issues are expanded. The scope of the argument is no longer simply the destiny of an embryo, but the larger issues of mercy, morality, compassion, and freedom.
Getting others to buy into your logic begins with crafting a clear, concise core argument. To uncover your core argument, force yourself to repeatedly pare away the extraneous until all that’s left passes the Business Card Test.
You’ve already met Greg, my stand-up comedy workshop instructor. Greg taught us that “the use of threes is a trick passed among comics as some mystical rule. A great joke is in the punch. In the unexpected. People think in patterns of three. Break the pattern’s expectation and you’ll get your punch—and hopefully some laughs.” A workshop example: “These dresses come in three sizes. Small, medium, and tent.” (The humor doesn’t come through when it’s a four-word pattern: “Small, medium, large, and tent.”)
Greg is right. There’s a magic about threes. “Threes” are best remembered and carry max impact.
Advertisers know we’re culturally attuned to messages that contain clusters of threes:
Live, love, eat!—Wolfgang Puck Cafes
No battery. Quartz accuracy. Revolutionary.—Seiko Kinetic Watches
Trustworthy, Reliable, Effectiveness.—Ricoh Business Machines
Funk, Fashion & Fettuccine.—Hollywood’s Famed Sunset Strip
Italian. Sensual. Warm.—Disaronno Amaretto
Invisible. Inaudible. Incredible.—Comanche Stealth Helicopters
Snap! Crackle! Pop!—Rice Krispies
Write down the three main points that support your core argument—reasons why the other person should buy into your core argument. To maximize impact, ask yourself: What do I know? What do they know? What do they need to know? The best points are what I call portable points—three points out of all the possibilities that you would like the other person to take home.
Back in the neighborhood
There are three reasons why we must say no to a multiplex.
1. Traffic will make our streets more congested, more dangerous, and more noisy.
2. Property values will decrease as the character of the neighborhood becomes more commercial.
3. Fast-food franchises and other high-traffic businesses will find it desirable to open near the multiplex, making things even worse.
But what if you have more than three main points? It’s best not to strut all your stuff at once. A case in point:
A farmer owned a pig that once saved a child from being run over by a speeding car. A pig known to have ushered a family from their burning cottage. The farmer was asked, “You have an amazing pig, but why does he have a wooden peg leg?”
“When you have a pig this great, you don’t eat him all at once!” he answered.
As students, we learned that As went to the report that had the most points. A+s went to those who could back up those points with zillions of footnotes. Your English teacher had to read your report. That’s what she was paid to do. The people you want to influence don’t have to tune into your argument. And if it isn’t compelling, they won’t.
With more than three points, the important and the unimportant soon meld into a brain-deadening blur. With less than three points, your logic may appear flimsy and lacking. But logic with three supporting points discourages rebuttal and takes on powerful clarity.
There’ll be times when your core argument will be supported by complex points. Here’s how the pros present complex points.
Break up the complex point. This will yield a pile of parts. These parts may be called steps, phases, or sections. Immediately after presenting an individual part, explain why it’s important.
The result is a powerful layered effect: presentation of a part…explanation of why that part is important…presentation of another part… explanation of how that part interfaces with the previous part and why it, too, is important…and so on.
You’ve discovered that having three portable points in support of your core argument is a highly effective tool. To power up your portable points, play them out by the numbers.
You’ll see what I mean when you compare these two plays:
Play 1: “There are important reasons for us to oppose the multiplex….”
Play 2: “There are three important reasons for us to oppose the multiplex….”
Play 1 is humdrum and flat. Play 2 is seductive; a listener will want to listen, to focus, to start writing what you’re about to say. A reader will quicken his or her reading pace to discover what the pages ahead have in store.
There’s only one difference between the two plays: It’s the number 3. The actual number isn’t important. I was induced to read the following articles because of their intriguing numbered themes: “5 Ways to Quickly Lose Weight”; “Professional Photographers Share Their 10 Best Tips;” “6 Deadly Phrases That Will Kill Any Deal.” Could you have flipped past any of these articles without giving them a chance to strut their stuff?
Using numbers to identify your portable points (“One, traffic will be heavier. Two, property values will decrease….”) gives you a firm grasp on the presentation of your ideas and makes it easier for a listener or reader to track your thinking.
Getting others to buy into your logic isn’t about sandbagging them with every point you can think of. It’s about creating a crystal-clear core argument supported by three numbered portable points.
An example can be found to support any point you make. Refuting examples can be found just as readily. It’s risky to dwell on any one example. When you don’t have conclusive proof, use an assortment of short, simple examples to back up your conclusion.
All it takes to refute the statement “Everyone knows…” is to name one person who doesn’t know.
It’s the specific that empowers others to envision what you envision. To be concerned about what concerns you. “Traffic problems come with multiplexes” is a conclusion. It doesn’t hammer home your point the same way as a specific statement: “Studies reveal that traffic in and around a 6-screen theatre can increase 20-fold on a weekend.”
Logic is both magical and mysterious. Stop-’em-in-their-tracks logic begins with a core argument supported with three portable numbered points.