The problem with superlatives

You've heard it. You've read it. You've listened to leaders swerve across the median fawning over something. "We have an incredibly great opportunity." "This is without question, the premiere sales team I have ever worked with." "I am deeply honored to be part of an organization with such a remarkably important mission."

Do you believe it? Does it seem sincere? Do you think that same CEO or sales lead, if they joined a rival and were tasked with dispensing their Kool Aid, would offer the same effusive rah rah? I’m guessing you do.

We now start with superlatives

We live in a culture where measured language has been marginalized, seen as unequal to the task of capturing clicks, holding our attention or piercing skepticism. If, as a leader I once worked for put it, "Subtlety is dead." I mourn it's passing. Deeply. Lugubriously. (If I can be forgiven).

And if you're seeking culprits, look no further than the linguistic Bonnie and Clyde: An overreliance on superlatives and superfluous modifiers.

In his book "Discipline is Destiny", author Ryan Holliday tells how Queen Elizabeth II would excise from her speeches modifiers she felt didn’t’ ring true (I’m looking at you, adverbs). Thus “I am very glad to be back in Birmingham” became simply “I’m glad to be back in Birmingham.” Because her Majesty knew her audience was likely wise to her actual level of enthusiasm for their Midlands home.

And at the risk of doubling down on the stereotype of the English as paragons of restraint, I cite my British Great Uncle who, in penning classical music reviews over four decades, used the word “great” exactly… twice.

Now of course a big part of any leader's job is motivating those they lead. And cheerleaders don't typically implore crowds to give them an “R-E-S-T-R-A-I-N-T!” But whichever forces are to blame, the balance between whipping up the troops and leveling with them is often, well, out of balance.

What’s the big deal?

Now you might say this is a fairly benign phenomenon. Don’t people mentally discount standard corporate hyperbole and guide themselves to the truth? Perhaps.

But the fact is leadership roles invariably require one to downshift to more measured and sober language. Particularly during challenging times when bad news and layoffs abound.

Thus, when the same leader who's turned it up to 11 for the sales force, now has to dial it down to 3 when asked about force reductions, the enthusiasm gap opens up a credibility gap. And a look back at the cheerleading can leave it feeling performative and insincere. Dare I say, inauthentic.

And people – especially the strategically minded people you likely want working for you – are attuned to such inconsistency.

Of course employees expect and tolerate some level of “performance”, even among the most buttoned up leaders. And they don’t expect complete transparency; troops know generals can’t always disclose their battle plans. But walking back your hyperbole – whether with your words or your actions – puts your credibility at risk.

A narrower rhetorical band

The people we most trust are those whose rhetoric is not meaningfully altered by circumstance. They operate within a narrower, arguably more disciplined, rhetorical range, deploying superlatives selectively and tactically. So that when they do jump up an oratorical octave, it actually means something.

Such measured rhetoric is a hallmark of those who hold our attention not for days but for decades. Warren Buffett, Queen Elizabeth, Nelson Mandela. Models of consistency. Pillars of restraint. Exemplary communicators.