Modly Makes a Speech

In a vivid demonstration of the supersonic speed of the news cycle, Acting Navy Secretary Thomas Modly gave a speech on Monday and, because of it, was out of a job on Tuesday. The events leading up to the speech, which started only a week earlier, were loaded with contentious political opinions that were batted about in many quarters by many voices. Rather than add another voice to the controversy, I will stick to my knitting and focus only on the rhetorical aspects of the speech that created such a climactic result.

The runup to the speech began when the Captain Brett Crozier, the Commanding Officer of the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier Theodore Roosevelt, alarmed about the escalating incidence of COVID-19 among his 4,800 crew members, wrote an email seeking help. In desperation, he sent it to 20 people.

Viewing Crozier’s email as a break in the chain of command protocol, a furious Modly promptly relieved the captain of his duty. The sacking created a firestorm of political criticism, but the most dramatic reaction was apolitical: hundreds of the ship’s sailors cheered, chanted and applauded their support for Crozier as he walked down the gangplank of his ship for the last time. Videos of the crew’s tumultuous farewell went viral.

On Monday, with the firestorm still raging, Modly decided to fly 8,000 miles to Guam where the carrier was berthed, to address the crew. His speech, which was clearly intended to be a rally-round-the-flag rouser, was anything but. While Modly did speak of patriotism, duty, and teamwork, he interlaced those words with profanities and sharp critiques of Crozier, particularly this one: “…it was my opinion, that if he didn’t think that information was going to get out into the public, in this information age that we live in, then he was A, too naive or too stupid to be the commanding officer of a ship like this.”

But profanities and criticism were the least of Modly’s problems. His greatest transgression was one that befalls many presenters and speakers: disregard of the audience. Regardless of where Modly stood politically or administratively, he had to be aware of the crew’s emotional admiration for their dismissed leader—an emotion heightened when, right after Crozier’s removal, he was diagnosed positive with coronavirus.

If there was any doubt about the crew’s feelings, it rang out in response to the “too naïve or too stupid” remark, when one man shouted, what in military parlance is known as “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot”—although the sailor used the vernacular version. Others in the crew continued to shout their opposition (audible on the soundtrack and punctuated throughout the transcript), but Modly pressed on with his own point of view, unwilling to alter course.

Reaction to the speech was swift—more and bigger waves of criticism. So strong that, by the time Modly got home Monday evening, he was forced to apologize to the Navy and to Crozier and, by the next morning, to resign.

Near the end of his speech, attempting to return to his teamwork theme, Modly said, “It’s not about me.” Unfortunately, it was all about him. During the 15-minute speech, he said “I” 58 times, “me” 16 times, and “my” 16 times.

It’s always all about the audience. Ignore them at your risk.