Reagan's Challenger Speech and the Rhetoric of Tragedy

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the Space Shuttle Challenger accident and President Ronald Reagan's speech about the tragedy. The explosion occurred in the morning, killing astronauts Michael Smith, Dick Scobee, Judith Resnik, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Gregory Jarvis, and school teacher Christa McAuliffe. Reagan's speech was delivered that night, after the full horror and shock of the event had set in. That national address is now hailed, deservedly so, as a masterpiece of public communication. Reagan discussed the accident in a way that was deeply personal, yet not exploitive: "Nancy and I are pained to the core by the tragedy of the shuttle Challenger....For the families of the seven, we cannot bear, as you do, the full impact of this tragedy."

Because of McAuliffe's presence on the mission, school children across the U.S. witnessed the accident on live television. Reagan addressed those children directly and consoled them with straightforward and gentle language: "I know it's hard to understand, but sometimes painful things like this happen. It's all part of the process of exploration and discovery." And the rest of us realized that sometimes adults and children need to hear the same words.

The second half of the speech brings with it an edge. That much of the world watched the explosion live presented a challenge to our national self-image and Reagan sensed that. He rebooted our national pride with a veiled but deft swipe at the Soviet Union: "We don't hide our space program. We don't keep secrets and cover things up. We do it all up front and in public. That's the way freedom is, and we wouldn't change it for a minute." He also acknowledged NASA's "anguish" and, in so doing, acknowledged the agency's responsibility. Furthermore, the President sternly rebuked those who were asserting that the space shuttle program needed to be mothballed: "There will be more shuttle flights and more shuttle crews and, yes, more volunteers, more civilians, more teachers in space."

Reagan's poignant but hopeful words struck a chord that night and, 20 years later, communication experts still consider it one of the best American speeches of the 20th century. In the two decades since, other presidents have risen to the occasion in the face of national catastrophe. Bill Clinton's reaction to the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing was widely praised for its humanity and empathy: "You have lost too much, but you have not lost everything. And you certainly have not lost America, for we will stand with you for as many tomorrows as it takes." George W. Bush's speech to Congress on September 20, 2001 will undoubtedly be extolled and studied forever: "My fellow citizens, for the last nine days, the entire world has seen for itself the state of our Union -- and it is strong."


Why do some of our worst national moments give rise to some of our leaders' best moments of public communication? Many scholars consider the Reagan and Clinton speeches above to be the best of their presidencies. The two men served in the Oval Office for a total of 16 years and delivered thousands of speeches. Yet, those two, both responding to tragedy, rise above the thousands. Why?

Maybe failure at such a critical moment is not an option. Too much is at stake. Too many eyes are looking to the leader for counsel and comfort. So the speechwriters don't quit until they get it right. Or maybe it's more mysterious than that, maybe the words come from forces we don't understand. But neither of those theories explain those speeches that don't succeed, despite emerging from death and despair, such as George W. Bush's ineffective response to Hurricane Katrina and Clinton's lackluster memorial for slain U.S. Capitol guards.

Maybe, just maybe, these speeches work, because, although uttered by politicians, they are not primarily political. The sudden tragedy renders strategy and spin unpalatable, even in the most partisan souls. But this theory raises another question. Why can't our leaders respond with the same compassion, seriousness, and honesty to the tragedies that are even more devastating but not sudden and dramatic, such as poverty, disease, and war? Maybe our leaders should always, to paraphrase Tim McGraw, "lead like we were dying."