In the Line of Fire: How to Handle Tough Questions... When It Counts

by Jerry Weissman

  During Perot's run for the presidency the year before the NAFTA debate, he had retained Ed Rollins, one of the most respected political consultants in the game. Six weeks later, Rollins resigned in dismay at Perot's refusal to take his advice. The advice for you is to take Gore's offsite encampment activity as a positive role model to develop two important techniques:

  Prepare. Anticipate the worst-case scenario. Make a list of the questions you do not want to hear. Find the Roman Columns in the tough questions as well as the non-challenging ones. Develop your positions on every major issue, especially the negative ones. Gather your supporting evidence. Do your research. Define your overall strategy as Al Gore did. Do all of this well in advance of your mission-critical Q&A session!

  Verbalize. This is the technique you first read about in Chapter 5, "Retake the Floor." Speak your words aloud in practice just as you will during your actual Q&A session. Verbalization is the equivalent of spring training in baseball, previews of Broadway shows and, most pertinent, the mock rehearsals that precede political debates. The latter examples have even more specificity and urgency for you. Politicians speak far more often than do mere mortals, and even more so during their campaigns. By the time they get down the homestretch to the debates, they have spoken their messages countless times.

  You do not have that advantage. Organize practice sessions to prepare for your actual Q&A session. Enlist your colleagues to fire tough questions at you. Verbalize your Buffers. Verbalize your answers until they are succinct and to the point. Verbalize your Topspin to every answer. Verbalize repeatedly, like a tennis volley.

  This is a technique I recommend to all my private clients, and particularly to companies preparing their IPO road shows, the most mission-critical of all business presentations. I urge CEOs and CFOs to volley their responses to their list of tough questions over and over until their returns of serves snap like whips. I urge you to treat every Q&A session as your IPO road show. Snap your whip.

  Chapter 9

  The Art of War

  (Martial Art: Self-Control)

  Those who win every battle are not really skillful…those who render others' armies helpless without fighting are the best of all.

  —General Sun Tzu The Art of War [9.1]

  The martial arts are called "arts" and not "sciences" because success or failure depends more on artful application than on any formula or equation. The central application of these arts is to the battle itself. It is with good reason that General Sun Tzu's 2,500 year-old book is found on the shelves of many modern businesses today. Here in the twenty-first century, its ideas have become a treatise for combat in business, if not a primer for any conflict in life. But the good General did not originate the idea of winning without fighting. The concept goes all the way back to the Old Testament, "He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty" (Proverbs 16:32).

  Fighting is synonymous with the contentious, evasive, and defensive behavior that you saw exhibited respectively by Ross Perot, Trent Lott, and Bob Newhart. Each of them demonstrated negative behavior that produced negative perceptions in their audiences, and none of them won his battle.

  Contentiousness is the most damaging of these behaviors because it represents loss of control, the opposite of the desired objective of Effective Management. To achieve this positive subliminal perception, you must never react to tough questions with anger; instead always respond with firm, but calm resolve. . . which brings us full circle back to the Introduction where we set out with a one-word summary of all the techniques in this book: control.

  Never react to tough questions with anger; instead always respond with firm, but calm resolve.

  Al Gore won his battle with Ross Perot without fighting. His interruptions caused Perot to lose control and become belligerent. Gore then rendered his opponent helpless by smiling…by using agility to counter force.

  The Art of Agility

  Agility requires artistry to succeed. Too strong a touch can overshoot the mark; too light can fall short. Martial art masters, athletes, and dancers, all of whom quest for physical agility, understand this all too well. They experience performances of sheer perfection and others of abject failure. The same can be true of verbal agility in the line of fire of tough questions.

  Al Gore is a case study in point that ranges from his campaign and election in 1992, through his campaign and reelection in 1996, and all the way to his own run for the presidency in 2000. The progression of his performances in his mission-critical debates provides an object lesson that all the experience, all the knowledge, all the disciplined preparation and all the science in the world will be for naught without the artful application of agility, without self-control.

  Force: 1992

  A year before his masterful triumph over Ross Perot in the NAFTA debate, Al Gore used force against force instead of agility. In his first run for national office, Gore met Dan Quayle in a vice presidential debate on October 13, 1992, in Atlanta, Georgia. Quayle, who had been burnt four years earlier by the memorable Topspin of Lloyd Bentsen you saw in Chapter 7, "Topspin in Action," was determined to not to allow history to repeat itself.

  Quayle and his team decided to reverse the classic football maxim, the best offense is a good defense, by vigorously taking the offensive to Gore. Quayle prepared for the contest in extensive practice sessions with a formidable stand-in for Gore, then-New Hampshire Senator Warren Rudman, an aggressive gadfly whose subsequent autobiography was appropriately titled, Combat. Practice with Rudman made Quayle highly combative.

  About a third of the way into the debate, Gore spoke of a talk he had had with some citizens who had lost their jobs. Then, he turned toward Quayle and asked:

  Do you seriously believe that we ought to continue the same policies that have created the worst economy since the Great Depression?

  Rather than answer Gore's question, Quayle launched into an attack.

  I hope that when you talked to those people you said: "And the first thing that Bill Clinton and I are going to do is to raise $150 billion in new taxes."

  Gore objected.

  You got that wrong, too!

  Ignoring the challenge, Quayle continued his attack.

  And the first…that is part of your plan.

  Gore objected again, shaking his head.

  No, it's not!

  Raising his voice, Quayle repeated his charge, wagging his finger at Gore (Figure 9.1).

  Figure 9.1. Dan Quayle wags his finger at Al Gore.

  A hundred and fifty billion dollars in new taxes.

  Quayle threw out his arms and shrugged his shoulders.

  Well, you're going to disavow your plan.

  Gore tried to explain.

  Listen, what we're proposing…

  Quayle stepped up the intensity.

  You know what you're doing, you know what you're doing? You're pulling a Clinton.

  Several people in the audience hooted with laughter, as Quayle explained his terminology.

  And you know what a Clinton is? And you know what Clinton is? A Clinton is, is what he says…he says one thing one day and another thing the next day…you try to have both sides of the issues. The fact of the matter is that you are proposing $150 billion in new taxes.

  Shaking his head again, Gore objected to Quayle's third statement of his charge.

  No!

  Quayle continued his assault.

  And I hope that you talk to the people in Tennessee…

  Gore fought back vainly.

  No, we're not!

  Undeterred, Quayle pressed forward, speaking to Gore as if he was a schoolchild.

  …and told them that…

  Smiling wanly, Gore protested.

  You can say it all you want but it doesn't make it true.

  On a roll, Quayle unleashed a crescendo of further accusations.

  …[they were] going to have new taxes. I hope you talked to them about the fact that you were going to increase spending to $220 billion. I'm sure what you
didn't talk to them about…

  Now Quayle turned away from Gore and looked straight into the camera to address the national television audience.

  …was about how we're going to reform the health care system, like the president wants to do.

  Quayle culminated his tirade against Gore and Clinton with a strong Topspin to his own Point B.

  He wants to go out and to reform the health care system…

  For good measure, Quayle added one more layer of Topspin, to a WIIFY for the electorate.

  …so that every American will have available to them affordable health insurance. [9.2]

  Although Quayle won the exchange, he did not win the war. He could not slow the two powerful forces of George H. Bush's inability to address the nation's economic difficulties and Bill Clinton's charisma that swept the Clinton-Gore team into the White House.

  However, Gore could have done better in the debate. He could have employed the agility he would bring into play against Perot a year later. Instead, Gore met Quayle's force with force by shouting back at his accuser's charges, "You got that wrong!," "No!,""No, it's not!," and "It doesn't make it true."

  Imagine if instead, when Quayle accused the Clinton-Gore ticket of planning to raise $150 billion in new taxes, Gore had neutralized Quayle's charge with a Buffer of the Roman Column of their tax plan by saying,

  Let's compare our tax plan to yours.

  Then, with the playing field leveled, imagine if Gore had answered,

  Remember Dan, it was George Bush who said, "Read my lips… no new taxes," and then raised them.

  At that point, Gore could have even gone on to add Topspin with both a Point B and a WIIFY by concluding with,

  The Clinton-Gore tax plan provides incentives for investment in job-creating activities…to get our economy going again.

  In the end, however, it was the electorate, rather than Al Gore, that provided the ultimate Topspin.

  Agility: 1996

  Just as Quayle was able to reverse field, so did Al Gore when he and Bill Clinton campaigned for reelection four years later. Their opponents were two formidable politicians: Bob Dole, the veteran senate majority leader, was the Republican presidential candidate and Jack Kemp, the vice presidential candidate. Gore was to engage in a one-on-one debate with Kemp on October 9, 1996, in St. Petersburg, Florida.

  Kemp would be a much more formidable opponent than the callow Quayle or the cantankerous Perot. Kemp had served nine terms in the House of Representatives and four years as Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, but his greatest claim to fame was as a professional football quarterback. He had played with the San Diego Chargers and the Buffalo Bills and led the latter to two American Football League championships. In all his public appearances, Kemp played the football hero image to the hilt, sporting an enormous, jewel-bedecked championship ring on his right hand for all the world to see. Moreover, he had developed a public persona as a charming, garrulous speaker.

  Although Gore's victory over Perot three years earlier had earned him new respect as a debater, he still carried the stigma, repeated ad infinitum by the late-night television comedians, of a stiff public speaker.

  Once again, Gore and his team treated the debate as a major challenge and assembled at an offsite in Florida they called a "debate camp." One of the strategies to emerge from their sessions was to level the playing field with Kemp by defusing the preconceived images of the football hero versus the wooden statue.

  In his opening statement of the debate, Gore said,

  I'd like to start by offering you a deal, Jack. If you won't use any football stories…

  Kemp took the bait. Seen in a television split screen, Kemp chuckled at the remark and then obliged even further by lifting his hand to pantomime throwing a football. His championship ring sparkled as he did. Meanwhile Gore struck an exaggerated deadpan expression (Figure 9.2).

  Figure 9.2. Jack Kemp and Al Gore debate.

  Then, Gore concluded his offer.

  …I won't tell any of my warm and humorous stories about chlorofluorocarbon abatement.

  The self-deprecating humor produced not only a laugh from the audience, but agreement and capitulation from Kemp.

  It's a deal.

  As the audience laughed louder, Gore broke into a big grin, and Kemp capitulated again.

  I can't even pronounce it.[9.3]

  After this running head start, Gore went on to combat Kemp on both style and substance. Kemp, known for his verbosity, had three instances in which he lost track of the time, while Gore's well-rehearsed answers were crisp and succinct.

  Immediately after the end of the debate, CNN/USA Today/Gallup conducted a poll with a focus group of registered voters who had watched the debate. The first question they were asked was, "Regardless of which candidate you happen to support, who do you think did the better job in the debate, Al Gore or Jack Kemp?" The results: Gore 57%, Kemp: 28%. [9.4]

  Once again, the Gore debate strategy, preparation, and execution, paid off. His double advantage over Kemp in the poll, combined with Clinton's charismatic advantage over Dole, gave the incumbents the momentum to sweep to victory on Election Day. The die was cast. With his decisive conquests of Jack Kemp and, a year later, Ross Perot, Gore was now a debater to be reckoned with and, as a virtual incumbent, the Democratic candidate for president in the next election.

  Agility and Force: 2000

  In 2000, Gore's opponent was then Texas Governor George W. Bush, a candidate saddled with the image of a man challenged by the English language. Despite Gore's successes in the debate arena and his two terms in office, he could not shake the wooden label. The media and the late-night comics had a field day lampooning both candidates.

  Notwithstanding the satire, Gore had the edge. By every estimate, he was expected to dominate the debates. In fact, the issue of The Atlantic Monthly that contained the James Fallows article in the previous chapter had on its cover a caricature of Gore baring feral fangs.

  In their first debate, at the University of Massachusetts in Boston, Massachusetts, on October 3, 2000, Al Gore forsook the agility that had served him so well in the past and came out roaring like a lion. Fueled by his disciplined preparation (and very likely, a strong dose of overconfidence), Gore applied all his rhetorical strengths and accumulated knowledge against George W. Bush. Gore's statements and rebuttals were filled with aggressive and divisive words like "wrong," "not," "differences," "mistake," and "opposite." [9.5]

  His manner was also combative, continually punctuated by condescending sighs, derisive head-shaking, scornful frowns, and disdainful eye-rolling (Figure 9.3).

  Figure 9.3. Al Gore sighs at George W. Bush.

  This arrogant behavior immediately boomeranged. The television broadcasters had a camera isolated on Gore for reaction shots. Their news directors took the output of this camera and edited all his disdainful expressions into a rapid-cut sequence. They ran the montage repeatedly in their local and national broadcasts.[*]

  Public and professional criticism rained down on the vice president, implicating not only his haughty attitude, but the accuracy of his statements.

  In response, Gore made a sharp about face and came out like a lamb in the second debate held on October 11, 2000, at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. During the 90 minutes, Gore expressed agreement with his opponent seven times on major issues, undershooting his intended mark by a country mile. Humbly, at the end of the broadcast, Gore even offered an apology for his exaggerations in the earlier debate:

  I got some of the details wrong last week in some of the examples that I used, Jim, and I'm sorry about that.[9.6]

  The most telling reaction to Gore's docile performance came from a CNN analyst:

  Whatever happened to Al the Barbarian? The man who knows better than anybody how to destroy an opponent with his mastery of the facts? Where was the clever repartee? Why did he let George Bush get away with so much without going in for the kill? Al Gore was emasculated by
his handlers. He sat there as if he were embarrassed to be on the same stage and ashamed of taking up so much time. He let pass countless openings to unmask Bush as uninformed. He was so damned nice, he ended up drowning in his own honey. [9.7]

  In reaction to reams of criticism like this, Gore reversed field again and swung back to his aggressive ways. In the third debate on October 17, 2000, at Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri, Gore went on the offensive. Remember that this is the very same town-hall format debate you read about in Chapter 7 when George W. Bush, left to his own devices in an answer to Lisa Kee, wandered off track and fizzled. In the following section, which occurred earlier in the debate, you'll see Gore's most pronounced attack and, more important, how Bush handled it.

  The moderator, Jim Lehrer of the PBS News Hour asked:

  Would you agree that you two agree on a national patient's bill of rights?

  A revved-up Al Gore replied emphatically, "Absolutely not," and then went on to discuss a proposal pending in Congress called The Dingle-Norwood Bill, which would provide legislation on HMOs. Gore then went on to say:

  And I specifically would like to know whether Governor Bush will support the Dingle-Norwood bill, which is the main one pending.

  Lehrer said:

  Governor Bush, you may answer that if you'd like. But also I'd like to know how you see the differences between the two of you, and we need to move on.

  The Governor rose from his seat and began to address his answer to the town-hall audience.

  Well, the difference is that I can get it done. That I can get something positive done on behalf of the people. That's what the question in this campaign is about…