There are a million ways to share the truth. Each word, each book, each song, each play, each speech (well, that’s a little iffy). The human race is saddled with certain “inalienable truths” that are repeated repeatedly as we motor along in life.
As each songwriter discovers a new truth and writers about it, we learn anew what matters should matter to us as humans. The lesson is then again released into the world in a new form.
Personally, I think this is the messaging strategy of the great communicators. One who comes to mind is the late Joseph R. Smallwood of Newfoundland. When Smallwood was angling (and he was always angling), for the admission of Newfoundland to the Dominion of Canada in 1949, he gave speeches. Later, when Confederation had been achieved, he gave speeches galore in his bid to become the first Premier of said newly admitted province in the firmament of the Dominion of Canada.
Smallwood had a rule about speeches (likely others had the same rule, too but I actually heard Smallwood say this): First, tell the people what you are going to tell them. Next, tell them what you want to tell them. And conclude by telling what you told them. Repetition and consistent messaging were his secret. He hung on to power as Premier in Newfoundland for a long time. (Some might argue for too long but that is another post and too political for the point I want to make.)
But he nailed the device. Humans can be slow learners. And even when they learn lessons, they only retain them if they repeatedly hear them. Take the Bible, for example. Those messages have held sway for eons through their repetition at once-weekly (or more) church services for the devout and civic-minded.
Look at advertising. Who among us has not thrown aside their vow of paucity for the various enticements slung at us by commercials on the “boob tube.” (Remember when that was what TVs were called. These days calling television that would belabor the obvious.)
Successful TV shows are formulaic. The cast gets established and performs their roles consistently. We love that we humans do. We form relationships of sorts with them and we think we know who they are. This certainty appeals to us humans at some level. Think of Grey’s Anatomy, NCIS, Law and Order, The Simpsons, even.
And while it happens less today, think about the tragedy of typecasting. Poor Shirley Temple could not sustain an acting career once she outgrew the persona of an adorable cherub and became – as it were – a real live girl.
Actors have complained for years that their gender, looks, physique and public presentation have consigned them to similar roles for their entire careers. Take poor Rock Hudson, for example. Woefully miscast as the hunky lover of women for years until AIDS outed him.
Expressive Compulsive 