Brian Fraley: In a noisy era, choose fewer words and more humanity

The column below reflects the views of the author, and these opinions are neither endorsed nor supported by WisOpinion.com.

When a major cellular network failed this weekend, parts of the country got a two-hour preview of how unsettled we become when the lights flicker. It was a small disruption, but the reaction was loud.

It was a glimpse of the world we live in: overloaded, anxious, impatient, and quick to anger.

It made me think. Leaders cannot always control the outage. They can, however, control how they speak to people when the signal drops.

Some say the only currency that matters in the modern world is attention. With the rise of artificial intelligence, some believe communication can be automated and left to algorithms.

I don’t buy it.

Intention and follow-through matter more than short-term attention.

I help people communicate so others will listen. Not to spin, but to be understood. After years in campaign backrooms and corporate boardrooms, I have learned that the messages people remember often follow two beats.

Say the hard thing. Then say the human thing.

It is a lesson many in both the public and private sector still need to learn.

Most modern PR efforts fall apart because they try to do everything at once and end up saying nothing at all. Legal, public relations, human resources, and a touch of inspiration all get crammed together. The result is mush. People don’t need mush. Whether you are advocating for policy, selling a product, or debating the merits of the latest Packers trade, people respond best when they hear a clear message they can repeat at the dinner table, the coffee shop, or on a Reddit thread without pulling out notes.

Here are a few classic examples of communicators who got it right at different times in different ways and for different reasons

William Proxmire’s Golden Fleece Awards. As a liberal senator from Wisconsin, Proxmire handed out his famous “awards” for wasteful spending. Hard thing: attacking projects backed by his own colleagues. Human thing: speaking in language every taxpayer could understand, showing he valued their money as much as they did. Those awards were his brand.

Johnson & Johnson, 1982 Tylenol crisis. After poisonings linked to their product, the company pulled 31 million bottles from shelves, told the truth about the risk, and rebuilt trust with tamper-proof packaging. Hard thing: recalling a best-selling product at enormous cost. Human thing: putting public safety ahead of profit.

Ronald Reagan, 1984 debate. Even as the economy improved, some Republicans worried about the President’s age. Asked directly about it, Reagan smiled and said, “I am not going to exploit, for political purposes, my opponent’s youth and inexperience.” Hard thing: acknowledging the concern. Human thing: defusing it with humor people repeated for decades.

These moments endured because they were specific, human, and easy to retell. None of them were dreamed up by a search engine or boosted by a hidden formula inside a line of code.

Being human is not weakness. It is strength. Vague leaders may satisfy lawyers, but they alarm everyone else. Specific leaders may unsettle lawyers, but they earn trust.

There are several rules in communicating that only humans understand

Repetition is not spin. It is stewardship. Campaigns repeat the same short message until reporters groan, because that is how ordinary people finally hear it. Businesses and candidates often forget this discipline. They chase every pitch, respond to every critic, then wonder why the scoreboard does not change.

Pick your three truths. Write them short. Put them on the wall. Say them until your team can lip-sync them. If a question does not connect to those truths, do not answer it.

And let us drop the myth that authentic means unfiltered. Your best self is not your first draft. Teachers rehearse their lessons, coaches run drills, pastors practice their homilies. None of that makes them fake. It makes them respectful of the people they are talking to.

Crisis is not a moment. It is why you prepare. The worst time to invent your voice is when you are already shouting over sirens. Johnson & Johnson proved that. When those Tylenol bottles were poisoned, the company went back to its credo. The first line of that credo was that their responsibility was to doctors, nurses, and patients who relied on their products. Because those values were already written down and discussed, the company knew what to do. They recalled the bottles, accepted the cost, and built a safer system for the future. Their years of steady communication work prepared them for the storm.

If you lead a political campaign or a company division, give your team this playbook:

One sentence of fact.

One sentence of responsibility.

One sentence of care.

Then stop. People judge you not by word count but by whether what you said turned out to be true.

I was born and raised in Wisconsin, and I still call it home. We know the difference between a bunt and a check swing. We forgive strikeouts if you were swinging at the right pitch. But if you freeze with the bat on your shoulder and then blame the umpire or the shadows, that is on you. Leadership works the same way. Swing with purpose. Own the outcome. Tip your cap. Step back in the box.

Communication that matters is not about winning the hour. It is about showing our humanity and building trust that lasts.

Say the hard thing when you need to. Then say the human thing because you should. Repeat it. People will remember who spoke to them like neighbors when it mattered most.

That is, as soon as their cell service is restored.

– Fraley has worked in Wisconsin politics and public policy circles for a quarter century. For the last decade, he has built and run Edge Messaging in Brookfield.