by Dana Perino
During the onslaught of Reid’s (and others who followed him) personal slander against President Bush, I’m proud to have worked for a leader who didn’t respond in kind. He regularly turned the other cheek and instructed us to do the same. He led by example, even in private. Though there was a time when holding back all of the retaliation started to physically wear on my face.
One day when Peter picked me up from the White House, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror of our Jeep and didn’t like what I saw—I was all sharp corners and hard edges; all the softness had disappeared from my face. It was ugliness from the inside coming out. I believed that we were letting the President down, and I felt trapped and powerless to help. I took every hit personally on his behalf.
But as with many other approaches to leadership, the Bushes were right not to lash out at their critics, even though it would have been very understandable had they done so. Every action can cause an overreaction, and giving someone more attention for being outrageous can exacerbate the problem. I could not have been a counterattack dog at the podium—it’s not in my nature and I wouldn’t have looked myself in the mirror—but I wonder if things may have been different if once in a while I’d bared some teeth.
Since I left the White House, the rhetoric has gotten worse. So I wrestle with bigger picture questions: Have we lost our ability to be civil to one another in the public square? Whatever happened to manners and dignity, graciousness and kindness? Do any of those virtues even matter anymore? Is there anything we can do to restore civility?
After all of these years in communications, speaking on behalf of other people, I no longer feel that I own anyone else’s comments. Being responsible for my own remarks is enough work for me. And with a public job, where all of my words are broadcast to millions each night and recorded, tweeted, and posted for eternity, I am conscientious about how I frame my comments and opinions. I try to be sensitive to how people will react to my words, but not so timid that my commentary is sanitary and ineffective.
I look at it this way—I don’t ever want to apologize for something I’ve said, but I want to be gracious enough to be ready to apologize if I ever need to.
My answers to those questions have come gradually and after some trial and error. In my own life, personally and professionally, I’ve realized that being civil is an active decision that I get to choose to make several times a day. That’s why I believe there’s hope—civility is not extinct. It is a choice.
Civility in Practice
Being more civil does not just apply to Presidents (though that would be a good place to start). As Charles Krauthammer said in his book Things That Matter, manners are the keys to civility. Without them, we’re hopeless. Manners make everything else work.
The good news is that there are things we can do right now to restore civility. But it starts with a personal choice to change bad habits—being more congenial, communicating better, anticipating concerns; the following are all ways to improve every aspect of life—personal relationships, friendships, families, bosses, and dealing with your crazy uncle (everyone has one—ours is called Uncle Bob).
Conversation Stranger Danger
There’s a reason people should not discuss religion or politics in polite company. That doesn’t mean that these topics should never be discussed (they’re two of the most important issues that affect us), but they shouldn’t be your conversation starter.
I’m a little paranoid about being a Republican in New York. I don’t expect anyone to agree with me, and I don’t pick fights. I have no idea of the political ideology of people I live around, because I don’t care what it is. I’m not a conservative evangelist that’s going to try to convince people on the merits of Republican policy principles—I do that for a living, so I don’t need to do it socially.
I like meeting people, but the last thing I want to do is be lectured about the Bush Administration or how horrible this or that Republican is. I’m sure a liberal would say the same about their experiences when they go to a party and are accosted by someone who dislikes Democrats. I know it goes both ways (I’m just pretty sure that it doesn’t happen in Manhattan very often).
That’s why I practice conversation stranger danger. When I meet someone new, I rarely volunteer what I do for a living. If I’m asked, I never lie about it, but I try to change the subject. For the most part, people are polite if they recognize me, even if they’re not fans of The Five or had threatened to move to Canada if Bush won re-election. But I’m amazed by how some people think it’s perfectly okay to insult my former boss or Fox News. I’ve learned to just smile, nod, or give them my signature response, “The Look” (Kimberly Guilfoyle loves it).
I really dislike it when people spoil my night because they’re rude. Once at a family-style dinner in a restaurant, a bunch of us were seated together. We didn’t know each other, and I looked forward to making some new friends.
A mom, dad, and their college-age son sat across from us, and the woman must have missed the part of the introductions when her son asked me what I did in New York.
While the salads were being served, her son said he’d just heard a speech by Stephen Colbert who said that Bill O’Reilly was just acting on The O’Reilly Factor, that he was not being himself. His mom then jumped in and said, “O’Reilly is a buffoon. A total buffoon! He’s a fool!”
“Well, I don’t see him that way,” I said.
She scoffed and repeated how dumb she thought he was.
“Well, you may not like him, but he’s not dumb. And he’s had the number one cable news show for over eighteen years.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess I have to give him that.”
An awkward silence passed.
“So,” she asked, smiling, “What do you do in New York City?”
“I work at Fox News,” I said deadpan.
She was mildly embarrassed, but I didn’t try to bail her out.
“Oh…” she said.
“Yep,” I said. At that point, I just wanted to go. I’d lost my appetite. I was bummed the evening started so poorly, because on many levels we had lots in common to discuss since she was from D.C, and had worked at the Justice Department when I had.
The night proved my point—we all make choices about what we’re going to say. If you don’t want to ruin an evening, find a way to talk about things other than politics to start off. Or provide an unexpected compliment and disarm them—the best defense is a charming offense.
Oh, and just to make sure it’s clear: Bill O’Reilly is very, very smart.
How to Respond
Criticism is part of life. You can’t escape it forever unless you’re not doing anything interesting. Social media has taken criticism to a different level—it can be immediate, vicious, and unfair.
I’ve seen people obsessed and harassed by their smartphones alerting them about any and all mentions of their names online. It drives them insane, and on balance it’s negative—compliments are rare. Learning to manage reactions to criticism is really important in all aspects of life (especially if you’re a manager for an organization or running for elected office).
The first thing you need to do is turn off any alerts about yourself when you’re mentioned anywhere online (go on, do it now—you know who you are). If you’re concerned you’ll miss something important or that you need to correct, then assign someone in your office or a trusted friend to check the Internet for you. This will add years back to your life.
When I became the White House press secretary, my mom looked me up and was shocked and upset by the things she read. I told her that we needed a rule—she could not put my name in any search engine under any circumstances. And she couldn’t go searching for the criticism either.
My advice is to ignore the chatter. (It’s amazing—if you’re not listening, you can’t hear it!) If criticism builds to a point where you or someone on your behalf needs to respond, the chances are it will be brought to your attention. You don’t need to go s
earching for negativity. Trust me—it’ll find you.
Another way to handle it is to anticipate the criticism. If you’re planning to post something to social media or giving a speech that is provocative, you can guess what your detractors might say about it. “Scuttle the rebuttal.” Try to outwit them in your original comments, or if the goal was to start a debate, participate in a positive and professional way. Take some time to figure out how to disarm your critics without them even realizing it, and you’ll be more effective and persuasive. Plus they’ll be flattered that you even bothered to find out their point of view—there’s value in doing a little bit of investment before you make comments.
When you do react to criticism, try not to be overly defensive. If someone attacks you, just like a bully on a playground, what he really wants is for you to react so that he can hit you again. Keeping your head held high is the best way to drive them crazy and make them look small (think nerds versus bullies—the nerds always win in the end). You can acknowledge criticism without responding negatively, and in fact, there are some critics who may have a point now and then. Is there anything you can learn from what someone thought of your presentation? Feedback can help us improve, if it’s taken in a good way. But if you feel that you need to respond to a criticism, try to do so with grace and maybe even with a sharp point of humor that could take a second for the critic to realize he’s been bested. Humor, really, is the best trump card.
Additionally, if you have a job that puts you in the public eye (or even hope to one day), build a network of defenders that can deploy on your behalf. Having someone stick up for you can be an effective way to respond to criticism without having to stoop to the attacker’s level. Some in your network may do this naturally and without prodding, but there could come a time when you need to ask someone to stand up for you. Even if you don’t have a public persona yet, it’s not too early to start thinking about who that would be, and offer to do the same for them if they ever need it. We all need a proxy now and then.
I had to learn all this the hard way. In 2007 when I’d just been appointed as the press secretary, I got invited to appear on Wait Wait—Don’t Tell Me!, the wonderful weekend news quiz show on NPR hosted by the very funny Peter Sagal. Everyone knew I loved the show and I was excited to be a guest. During the program, I was asked what it was like to be the White House spokesperson at such a young age. I rolled with the joke and said I knew what he meant—that most of the White House reporters were so much older than me that they’d actually covered the Cuban Missile Crisis and I pretended I’d never heard of it. I was joking, but the “dumb Republican blonde” die had been cast. Since then, it’s the Left’s favorite criticism of me, and it doesn’t matter that I said it in jest. Pointing that out isn’t a battle I’ve won with fanatics who want to hate me. I had to choose to ignore the barbs and to not let vicious attacks overwhelm me.
And all of that leads me to a final point: Try to keep some perspective about your role in the world. Whatever is being said about you, whatever criticism you’re facing, it probably isn’t as bad as a million other things that happened in the world that day. That helps me keep some perspective—remember, most of us are really not that big of a deal.
Just Pay a Compliment
A pet peeve of mine is with people who give backhanded compliments. If you don’t have something nice to say, just don’t say it. A weak compliment is worse than not saying anything at all.
What do I mean by that? Well, I get these kinds of comments a lot:
“I hated everything about the Bush Administration, but I like you.”
“I hate your politics, but your dog is awesome.”
“I can’t stand Fox, but I never miss The Five.”
It’s a mystery to me why people don’t think comments like that are offensive and why their compliments fall flat. Compliments are neutralized with underhanded jabs. I’d rather have just a polite hello than an insult about my ideology, past employers, and colleagues folded into a halfhearted compliment. By the time they get to the comma, I’ve already stopped listening.
Imagine what it would be like if they just swallowed their negativity and said:
“I love listening to you on Fox.”
“I think your dog is awesome.”
“You were a good press secretary.”
See, that’s not so hard, is it? Giving someone a compliment doesn’t mean that you then are associated as a Republican or Democrat sympathizer. Try it—if you are afraid you’ll get conservative or liberal cooties, or that you’ll get hit from friendly fire if you praise someone of the other party, then the problem rests with you or the people you call friends. Consider it civility karma. It could come back to benefit you another time.
President Bush and I once bonded over someone’s slight of me at a commencement speech. In 2008, I was invited to speak to the graduates of my alma mater, Colorado State University–Pueblo. I felt honored and the President kept asking what I was going to say. He even gave me some advice: “Keep it short.”
When I got to campus, the university president, Joe Garcia, met me at the door. He had earned a law degree from Harvard and was working in higher education when the Clinton Administration asked him to serve in a regional role for Housing and Urban Development. So he was fairly involved in politics and should have had better people skills than what he showed to me.
From the start he wanted to needle me about Republicans. I don’t know whether he thought he was being clever or funny, but it was rude. I had no idea what anyone’s political affiliation was at the school, but at the luncheon he started labeling everyone as this or that, as if I cared. The guests were gracious and a bit embarrassed by his behavior, but he was neither.
The next morning at the commencement, we put on polyester gowns and got ready for the ceremony. Garcia and I had a nice chat in the sunshine outside the venue, and it was a pretty good morning until he got up to introduce me. I felt nervous because I hadn’t given a speech in a while (outside of the press briefings) and I really wanted the students to like what I was going to say. Then Garcia slapped me in the face.
At the lectern in front of thousands gathered for the ceremony, Garcia finished a short description of my career thus far, and then he said, “And now, despite her party affiliation, I’m pleased to introduce to you Dana Perino.”
I kept a smile on my face but thought, “Did I hear that right?” I felt burned. Traveling all that way, taking time off when the White House team needed my help, and being insulted in front of the audience wasn’t what I’d expected. I decided to blow him off and gave the speech with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, though I should have taken President Bush’s advice more to heart. And my speech was too long so I rushed to the end. I could tell the graduates just wanted to get their diplomas and on with their celebrations.
After the event, I made my way to where my family and friends were sitting and was stopped along the way by people apologizing to me for Garcia’s behavior. I pretended that it hadn’t affected me and said, “So I wasn’t the only one that noticed?” Apparently not. The university started getting lots of complaints, as did the local newspaper, The Pueblo Chieftain. They printed some of the messages, and it was clear people in the community were mad at him.
When I got back to Washington, President Bush asked me about the speech and I told him what happened. The President said that Garcia was going to call me to apologize.
He was right. Garcia called. My assistant Chris Byrne asked me if I wanted to take it. I declined.
Over the next three days, the President and I had running banter about it:
“Did he call you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you take the call?”
“No, sir.”
“Good.”
On the third day and after three more calls, the President asked me again.
“Did he call you back?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you take the call this time?”
/> “Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
When you’re insulted, be gracious in how you handle it. I didn’t need to call up and yell at Garcia, because other people were already doing that for me. But I didn’t need to let him off the hook before making him squirm for a while.
When I finally took the call, Garcia’s apology was sincere and I told him not to worry about it and then I quickly changed the subject. I thanked him so very much for the opportunity to return to Pueblo for the commencement.
Garcia went on to serve as the Lieutenant Governor of Colorado. I hope he’s a bit more diplomatic now.
Disagree Without Being a Jerk
One of the keys to being a positive person is learning how to disagree without being a jerk about it. You can be assertive without being aggressive; you just need to find a pleasant tone that is gracious while also being persuasive. That way your boss is more likely to listen to you, and your colleagues will look to you to help solve problems.
Imagine at the White House podium how often a press secretary has to disagree with a reporter—it never ends. Nearly every answer requires some restating of the facts, providing context, or challenging the premise or tone of the question.
As a press secretary and on The Five, I’ve learned that I have a choice in how I answer a question. There’s combative or productive—I get to take my pick. I usually chose productive. To do that, I came up with some phrases that were useful tools, such as, “I understand why you’re asking the question that way, but look at it from another point of view…” or “You make a fair point, but let me tackle this from another angle.…” They made me sound reasonable and encouraged people to be more willing to listen.