4 LAW 4 ALWAYS SAY LESS THAN NECESSARY

LAW

4

ALWAYS SAY LESS

THAN NECESSARY

JUDGMENT

When you are trying to impress people with words, the

more you say, the more common you appear, and the less

in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will

seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and

sphinxlike. Powerful people impress and intimidate by

saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to

say something foolish.

TRANSGRESSION OF THE LAW

Gnaeus Marcius, also known as Coriolanus, was a great military hero of

ancient Rome. In the first half of the fifth century B.C. he won many important battles, saving the city from calamity time and time again. Because he

spent most of his time on the battlefield, few Romans knew him personally,

making him something of a legendary figure.

In 454 B.C., Coriolanus decided it was time to exploit his reputation

and enter politics. He stood for election to the high rank of consul. Candidates for this position traditionally made a public address early in the race,

and when Coriolanus came before the people, he began by displaying the

dozens of scars he had accumulated over seventeen years of fighting for

Rome. Few in the crowd really heard the lengthy speech that followed;

those scars, proof of his valor and patriotism, moved the people to tears.

Coriolanus's election seemed certain.

When the polling day arrived, however, Coriolanus made an entry

into the forum escorted by the entire senate and by the city's patricians, the

aristocracy. The common people who saw this were disturbed by such a

blustering show of confidence on election day.

And then Coriolanus spoke again, mostly addressing the wealthy citizens who had accompanied him. His words were arrogant and insolent.

Claiming certain victory in the vote, he boasted of his battlefield exploits,

made sour jokes that appealed only to the patricians, voiced angry accusations against his opponents, and speculated on the riches he would bring to

Rome. This time the people listened: They had not realized that this legendary soldier was also a common braggart.

News of Coriolanus's second speech spread quickly through Rome,

and the people turned out in great numbers to make sure he was not

elected. Defeated, Coriolanus returned to the battlefield, bitter and vowing

revenge on the common folk who had voted against him. Same weeks later

a large shipment of grain arrived in Rome. The senate was ready to distribute this food to the people, for free, but just as they were preparing to vote

on the question Coriolanus appeared on the scene and took the senate

floor. The distribution, he argued, would have a harmful effect on the city

as a whole. Several senators appeared won over, and the vote on the distribution fell into doubt. Coriolanus did not stop there: He went on to condemn the concept of democracy itself. He advocated getting rid of the

people's representatives-the tribunes-and turning over the governing of

the city to the patricians.

When word of Coriolanus's latest speech reached the people, their

anger knew no bounds. The tribunes were sent to the senate to demand

that Coriolanus appear before them. He refused. Riots broke out all over

the city. The senate, fearing the people's wrath, finally voted in favor of the

grain distribution. The tribunes were appeased, but the people still demanded that Coriolanus speak to them and apologize. If he repented, and

agreed to keep his opinions to himself, he would be allowed to return to

the battlefield.

Coriolanus did appear one last time before the people, who listened to

him in rapt silence. He started slowly and softly, but as the speech went on,

he became more and more blunt. Yet again he hurled insults! His tone was

arrogant, his expression disdainful. The more he spoke, the angrier the

people became. Finally they shouted hirn down and silenced hirn.

The tribunes conferred, condemned Coriolanus to death, and ordered

the magistrates to take him at once to the top of the Tarpeian rock and

throw hirn over. The delighted crowd seconded the decision. The patricians, however, managed to intervene, and the sentence was commuted to

a lifelong banishment. When the people found out that Rome's great military hero would never return to the city, they celebrated in the streets. In

fact no one had ever seen such a celebration, not even after the defeat of a foreign enemy.

Interpretation

Before his entrance into politics, the name of Coriolanus evoked awe.

His battlefield accomplishments showed hirn as a man of great bravery. Since the citizens knew little about hirn, all kinds of legends became attached to his name. The moment he appeared before the Roman citizens,

however, and spoke his mind, all that grandeur and mystery vanished. He

bragged and blustered like a common soldier. He insulted and slandered

people, as if he felt threatened and insecure. Suddenly he was not at all

what the people had imagined. The discrepancy between the legend and

the reality proved immensely disappointing to those who wanted to believe in their hero. The more Coriolanus said, the less powerful he appeared-a person who cannot control his words shows that he cannot

control hirnself, and is unworthy of respect.

Had Coriolanus said less, the people would never have had cause to

be offended by him, would never have known his true feelings. He would

have maintained his powerful aura, would certainly have been elected consul, and would have been able to accomplish his antidemocratic goals. But

the human tongue is a beast that few can master. It strains constantly to

break out of its cage, and if it is not tamed, it will run wild and cause you

grief. Power cannot accrue to those who squander their treasure of words.

Oysters open completely when the moon is Jazz; and when the crab sees one

it throws a piece of stone or seaweed into it and the oyster cannot close

again so that it serves the crab Jor meat. Such is the late of him who opens

his mouth too much and thereby puts himself at the mercy of the listener.

i ,eonardo da Vinci, 1 452-1519

OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW

In the court of Louis XIV, nobles and ministers would spend days and

nights debating issues of state. They would confer, argue, make and break

alliances, and argue again, until finally the critical moment arrived: Two of

them would be chosen to represent the different sides to Louis hirnself,

who would decide what should be done. After these persons were chosen,

everyone would argue some more: How should the issues be phrased?

What would appeal to Louis, what would annoy him? At what time of day

should the representatives approach him, and in what part of the Versailles

palace? What expression should they have on their faces?

Finally, after all this was settled, the fatend moment would finally ar￾rive. The two men would approach Louis-always a delicate matter-and

when they finally had his ear, they would talk about the issue at hand,

spelling out the options in detail.

Louis would listen in silence, a most enigmatic look on his face. Fi￾nally, when each had finished his presentation and had asked for the king's

opinion, he would look at them both and say, "I shall see." Then he would

walk away.

The ministers and courtiers would never hear another word on this

subject from the king-they would simply see the result, weeks later, when

he would come to a decision and act. He would never bother to consult

them on the matter again.

Interpretation

Louis XIV was a man of very few words. His most famous remark is

"L'Uat, c'est moi" ("I am the state"); nothing could be more pithy yet more

eloquent. His infamous "I shall see" was one of several extremely short

phrases that he would apply to all manner of requests.

Louis was not always this way; as a young man he was known for talk￾ing at length, delighting in his own eloquence. His later tacitumity was self￾imposed, an act, a mask he used to keep everybody below him off-balance.

No one knew exactly where he stood, or could predict bis reactions. No

one could try to deceive him by saying what they thought he wanted to

hear, because no one knew what he wanted to hear. As they talked on and

on to the silent Louis, they revealed more and more about themselves, in￾formation he would later use against them to great effect.

In the end, Louis's silence kept those around him terrified and under

his thumb. It was one of the foundations of his power. As Saint-Simon

wrote, "No one knew as weIl as he how to seIl his words, his smile, even his

glances. Everything in him was valuable because he created differences,

and his majesty was enhanced by the sparseness of his words."

It is even more damaging for a minister to say foolish things than to do them.

Cardinal de Retz, 1613-1679

KEYS TO POWER

Power is in many ways a game of appearances, and when you say less than

necessary, you inevitably appear greater and more powerful than you are.

your silence will make other people uncomfortable. Humans are machines

of interpretation and explanation; they have to know what you are thinking. When you carefully control what you reveal, they cannot pierce your

intentions or your meaning.

YOUf short answers and silences will put them on the defensive, and

they will jump in, nervously filling the silence with all kinds of comments

that will reveal valuable information about them and their weaknesses.

They will leave a meeting with you feeling as if they had been robbed, and

they will go horlme and ponder your every word. This extra attention to

your brief comments will only add to your power.

Saying less than necessary is not for kings and statesmen only. In most

areas of life, the less you say, the more profound and mysterious you appear. As a young man, the artist Andy Warhol had the revelation that it was

generally impossible to get people to do what you wanted them to do by

talking to them. They would turn against you, subvert YOUf wishes, disobey

you out of sheer perversity. He once told a friend, "I leamed that you actually have more power when you shut up."

In his later life Warhol employed this strategy with great success. His

interviews were exercises in oracular speech: He would say something

vague and ambiguous, and the interviewer would twist in circles trying to

figure it out, imagining there was something prafound behind his often

meaningless phrases. Warhol rarely talked ab out his work; he let others do

the interpreting. He claimed to have leamed this technique from that master of enigma Marcel Duchamp, another twentieth-century artist who realized early on that the less he said about his work, the more people talked

about it. And the more they talked, the more valuable his work became.

By saying less than necessary you create the appearance of meaning

and power. Also, the less you say, the less risk you run of saying something

foolish, even dangeraus. In 1825 a new czar, Nicholas I, ascended the

throne of Russia. A rebellion immediately broke out, led by liberals demanding that the country modernize-that its industries and civil structures catch up with the rest of Europe. Brutally crushing this rebellion (the

Decembrist Uprising), Nicholas I sentenced one of its leaders, Kondraty

Ryleyev, to death. On the day of the execution Ryleyev stood on the gallows, the noose around his neck. The trapdoor opened-but as Ryleyev

dangled, the rape brake, dashing him to the ground. At the time, events

like this were considered signs of providence or heavenly will, and a man

saved from execution this way was usually pardoned. As Ryleyev got to his

feet, bruised and dirtied but believing his neck had been saved, he called

out to the crowd, "You see, in Russia they don't know how to do anything

properly, not even how to make rope!"

A messenger immediately went to the Winter Palace with news of the

failed hanging. Vexed by this disappointing turnabout, Nicholas I nevertheless began to sign the pardon. But then: "Did Ryleyev say anything after

this miracle?" the czar asked the messenger. "Sire," the messenger replied,

"he said that in Russia they don't even know how to make rope."

"In that case," said the Czar, "let us prove the contrary," and he tore

up the pardon. The next day Ryleyev was hanged again. This time the

rope did not break.

Learn the lesson: Once the words are out, you cannot take them back.

Keep them under control. Be particularly careful with sarcasm: The momentary satisfaction you gain with your biting words will be outweighed by

the price you pay

Ima g e :

The Orade at Delphi.

When visitors consulted the

Orade, the priestess would utter

a few enigmatic words that seemed

full of meaning and import. No one

disobeyed the words of the Oraclethey held power over life and death.

Authority: Never start moving your own lips and teeth before

the subordinates do. The longer I keep quiet, the sooner others

move their lips and teeth. As they move their lips and teeth, I

can thereby understand their real intentions .... If the sovereign

is not mysterious, the ministers will find opportunity to take

and take. (Han-fei-tzu, Chinese philosopher, third century B.C.)

REVERSAL

There are times when it is unwise to be silent. Silence can arouse suspicion

and even insecurity, especially in your superiors; a vague or ambiguous

comment can open you up to interpretations you had not bargained for. Silence and saying less than necessary must be practiced with caution, then, and in the right situations. It is occasionally wiser to imitate the court jester,

who plays the fool but knows he is smarter than the king. He talks and talks

and entertains, and no one suspects that he is more than just a fool. Also, words can sometimes act as a kind of smoke screen for any deception you might practice. By bending your listener's ear with talk, you can distract and mesmerize them; the more you talk, in fact, the less suspicious of you they become. The verbose are not perceived as sly and manipulative but as helpless and unsophisticated. This is the reverse of the silent policy employed by the powerful: By talking more, and making

yourself appear weaker and less intelligent than your mark, you can practice deception with greater ease.