Caffeinated Politics

On Sunday, Chicago Mayor Brandon Johnson did what many had expected and announced his bid for reelection.

With hundreds of people gathered at the DuSable Black History Museum in Washington Park, the freshman chief executive made official what both supporters and critics have anticipated for months.

The crowd chanted “four more years” once he declared “My name is Brandon Johnson and I’m running for reelection in the greatest frickin’ city in the world: Chicago.”

One does not need to be a supporter of the mayor, aligned with an opponent’s campaign, or even a resident of the city to understand that something is amiss in his opening line for seeking another term. Everyone who heard or read the line knows what Johnson was saying. Profanity, or anything rubbing up against the line of profanity, should not be what voters should expect or accept. While I understand that a large chunk of the country uses such language without a second thought, is it too much to ask that our elected officials and candidates for office choose a different path when communicating with would-be voters? Must every aspect of our public square be coarsened?

What used to be the occasional slip of the tongue has become a performance, as Johnson made clear. He deliberately chose to signal some degree of ‘authenticity’ by sounding like someone yelling across a bar. When leaders treat vulgarity as a virtue, it lowers the national ceiling on seriousness. It tells citizens that decorum is optional, that speaking in polite terms is somehow perceived as elitist.

Over the decades, I have watched the boundaries shift in our national conversations. (This interest was fostered by my years of radio broadcasting, where standards were met on-air, and listeners never were left without doubt about what was being said.) I wish more adults in our nation would think about what young ones really hear when grown‑ups, but especially leaders, teachers, or parents, toss around words like frickin’, or its unmasked cousin. Kids do not hear just a sound. They hear a value, or lack thereof. They hear that verbal restraint is optional, and that full-out impulse outranks serious thought.

A teacher who was visiting Madison for a local festival struck up a conversation about this topic with me years ago. What she knew from her classroom years is what I think is most worth writing here. Kids learn language the way they learn manners. By watching what adults reward, tolerate, or shrug off. So, when coarse language becomes casual, unremarkable, even performative, as in Johnson’s reelection announcement, children learn that civility is not required. Unconsciously, they learn that the quickest way to get attention is to lace your sentences with verbal sludge.

Another politician from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln, was noted for his bawdy stories and even off-color limericks. While riding the circuit with other lawyers, he often regaled men late at night with funny jokes he would never consider using in his Cooper Union speech. He never told such stories to the public, not because he was prudish, but because he respected his fellow citizens.

A leader’s language sets the tone, and when it is hollowed out, it signals that public dialogue doesn’t require restraint. In a professional environment, that’s not subtle. It’s just sloppy, as Brandon Johnson shows.