Nib #80 Jimmy Carter’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Speech

Forty-six years ago this week, Jimmy Carter gave the worst Oval Office speech in American history. “A Crisis of Confidence” — better known today as the “Malaise Speech” — is not only worse than older readers will remember. It’s worse than younger readers can probably imagine.

Most of speech’s problems were political: the message, the messenger, and the moment were catastrophically out of sync. And yet, somehow, the writing itself was almost as bad.

Remember the setting. It’s summer 1979. Stagflation, gas lines, another recession looming. President Carter, his approval rating now in the low 30s, had already given three major speeches about a seemingly intractable energy crisis. The fourth - scheduled for the evening of July 5 — Carter canceled at the last minute. Then he vanished. No, seriously. He left the White House for a 10-day emotional and spiritual retreat at Camp David, where he met with Important People about What Was Really Wrong With America.

On July 15, he returned to Washington to finally reveal his plan to revive the country. This is the first time Americans heard from their president since he disappeared in the middle of a crisis. Everyone is waiting with baited breath. And Carter opens his speech:

“Good evening. This is a special night for me.”

Say what?

“Exactly three years ago, on July 15, 1976, I accepted the nomination of my party to run for president of the United States.”

Carter talks about his convention speech, three years earlier. Then Carter talks about all the other speeches he’s given since! Then he talks about the speech he just canceled — and how great it was going to be! Then he talks about his Me Time with celebrities at Camp David:

“It has been an extraordinary ten days, and I want to share with you what I’ve heard.”

In the first seven paragraphs of his speech, Carter uses some version of the words I or me 21 times!

He spends the next three minutes quoting his Camp David guests. And what do you know, almost all of their thoughts aren’t about the energy crisis at all. They’re about… Jimmy Carter! Eight hundred words into a speech about a national economic crisis, the president has only talked about two subjects: himself and what other people say about him.

Finally Carter gets around to his big takeaway from all his deep conversations and soul-searing. He was right all along:

“These ten days confirmed my belief… but it also bore out some of my long-standing concerns…”

Eight of Carter’s next nine independent clauses feature the word I as the subject:

“I know… I've worked… I have… I have… I want… I want… I do… I do…”

This guy, huh?

After nine minutes exonerating himself from blame for the country’s problems, Carter hones in on the real culprit: the American people!

“The threat is nearly invisible in ordinary ways. It is a crisis of confidence. It is a crisis that strikes at the very heart and soul and spirit of our national will. We can see this crisis in the growing doubt about the meaning of our own lives and in the loss of a unity of purpose for our nation.”

The Nib can’t even. Note the threat Carter diagnoses is “invisible in ordinary ways” — that is, to people less perceptive than Carter.

He laments people’s doubts about “the meaning of their lives” and “loss of unity of purpose.” But he just spent nine minutes congratulating himself for his personal virtue and focus.

At this point it’s clear, the malaise speech is not even about malaise. It’s about how much better a person Jimmy Carter thought he was than the selfish, venal, mouth-breathing ingrates he was trying to lead!

No surprise, then, that when Carter finally gets around to the policy substance of the speech — the energy crisis — almost every solution he proposes involves giving President Carter more power. The one exception? Urging the 224,999,999 Americans who didn’t just helicopter up to the mountains on a whim for some Me Time to stop using so much energy!

Finally, if you had any doubt, yes: even Carter’s peroration is obnoxious!

“In closing, let me say this: I will do my best, but I will not do it alone.”

What the &$#@ is the matter with this guy? "I will not do it alone"? How vain, how arrogant, how out of touch did Carter have to be to not say, “… but I can not do it alone” there?

Vain, arrogant, and out-of-touch enough — after a half-hour, self-congratulatory harangue of his countrymen — to then say, three sentences before signing off:

“Whenever you have a chance, say something good about our country.”

The lesson this week is very simple. Read the Malaise Speech, and then never write like that.

Until next week… keep writing!

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Nib #147 “Half As Long”

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In honor of the great Tom Skerritt, who died last week at 93, this week’s (appropriately brief) Nib celebrates the Nibbiest scene in the history of movies: the “Half As Long” scene from A River Runs Through It.

Nib #146 Back to Basics: Dangling Participles

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Dangling participles are one of those grammatical faux pas — like comma splices ( Nib #143 ) and the passive voice ( Nib #106 ) — that young writers today have probably heard of, but were never really taught. (Once again, Will, it’s not your fault.)

Nib #145 Own The Trade-offs

October 16, 2026

One of the weaknesses of American public discourse these days is that persuasive writers ignore Thomas Sowell's famous observation that, “There are no solutions. There are only trade-offs.” Whether it’s a campaign speech, a sports radio rant, or a policy op-ed, arguments these days tend to be presented as if they are pure upside, win-wins for everyone (or at least everyone who matters). Writing like this, especially in our low-trust culture, is the opposite of persuasive. It’s off-putting and exclusionary. Ignoring contrary opinions does not make them disappear — it makes you boring. By acknowledging the trade-offs attendant to your ideas — banning the Electoral College, firing Dan Quinn, whatever — you get to frame the trade-offs. You can present them in the best light, strengthening your own argument by contrasting it with alternatives. If your argument can’t withstand your own cost-benefit analysis, it’s unlikely to persuade undecided readers, either. Until next week… keep writing!

Nib #144 How Never to Start a Sentence

October 9, 2026

There’s no right way to start a sentence. But there are some wrong ways. One of those is labeling — wheel-spinning introductory phrases like: “In terms of…” “As it relates to…” “With respect to…” Seen in isolation, they don’t seem so bad. But in practice, they’re clunky and unnecessary: “In terms of awards, Tom Cruise has never won a competitive Oscar.” “As it relates to national security, China remains America’s greatest rival.” “With respect to holidays, I prefer Christmas to Thanksgiving.” Look how much cleaner those sentences become without the labels: “Tom Cruise has never won a competitive Oscar.” “China remains America’s greatest national security rival.” “I prefer Christmas to Thanksgiving.” “Omit needless words” is one of the most fundamental bits of writing advice there is. And sentence-opening labels are about as needless as words get. Until next week… keep writing!

Nib #143 Back to Basics: The Comma Splice

October 2, 2026

“No comma splices” is one of those ubiquitous writing tips everyone has heard… but most young writers today don’t understand. (“It’s not your fault, Will. It’s the education system’s.”)

Nib #142 The Secret to Personal Statements

September 25, 2026

College application season is once again at our throats, and with it, the universal adolescent dread of the Personal Statement. There’s lots of good technical advice about how to do these high-stakes 650-word essays — what to write and what not to write (including Nib #23). But the real secret is not technical; it’s strategic: Don’t use your Personal Statement to try to impress other people. Use it to reveal yourself. Don’t try to write an autobiography in 650 words. You won’t succeed, and 17-year olds don’t have that much to write about anyway. Moreover, don’t rehash “accomplishments” already listed elsewhere on your application. They’re unlikely to be much different from everyone else’s. Instead, write in such a way that readers will know you a little bit. Write about a failure, a dream dashed, a relationship, or a moment — big or small — that taught you some lesson. Think about how you really get to know someone. It’s not their resumé, it’s their spirit, the Truth behind the facts. Write “authentic” — especially when most of your peers will use AI — and “impressive” will take care of itself. Until next week… keep writing!

Nib #141 Take the Edits

September 18, 2026

One of the most common questions the Nib gets from young writers is, “What do I do when superiors in my office suggest changes to my drafts that I disagree with?” The answer is very simple: make the changes. But what if they throw off the rhythm? What if they undermine a delicately crafted metaphor? What if they add three sentences and that means 50 words have to be cut somewhere else? Again: make the changes. There are several reasons why. First, they’re your bosses. Do what you’re told. Second, 99% of what we write does not matter — so neither do 99% of suggested edits. Third, and most important, the more obligingly you take people’s edits, the fewer you’ll get. Resist edits, and you’ll get a reputation as a prima donna, whose writing therefore deserves extra scrutiny. Take your superiors’ suggestions, and over time they will trust your writing enough not to nitpick it. Once your reputation is established, you’ll even earn the standing to occasionally push back. Taking edits is good for your soul and your career. Until next week… keep writing!

Nib #140 Write in Paragraphs

September 11, 2026

Rule #13 in Strunk & White still holds: “Make the paragraph the unit of composition.” Don’t think of your writing as a collection of words or even sentences, but paragraphs. Each paragraph should present One Complete Thought — one idea, one step in the story you’re telling or the argument you’re making. Paragraphs signal all this simply by how they look. The line break and indentation tell the reader, We’re done with the previous idea and moving on to a new one. Take advantage of those visual cues as you draft and revise your work. Open paragraphs with some kind of topic sentence to tee up what follows. Close them with a good kicker that polishes off the point or springboards readers into the next paragraph. You can even outline your piece this way — plan one paragraph for each main point in your outline. Readers read in paragraphs, so writers should write in paragraphs too. Until next week… keep writing.

Nib #139 Duplicate Sentences

September 4, 2026

When writing first drafts, writers are usually still working out what we think. One result is duplicate sentences. We unconsciously state the same thought in different ways, often back to back. Just like the two previous sentences! Or consider these examples: This bill will only raise taxes on people making more than $1 million per year. It won’t raise taxes on anyone making less than seven figures. The hotel was farther from the city than we expected. We were surprised by how long it took to get downtown. This kind of repetition is natural in conversation. But good writing doesn’t ask readers to pay for the same real estate twice. When editing your writing, be on the lookout for twin sentences. Pick the one that sounds best, or take the best from each to form a better one, and delete the rest. Until next week… keep writing!

Nib #138 Dr. X and Mrs. Y

August 28, 2026

The hardest part of writing about public policy is making substantive arguments without getting lost in the weeds. Disagreements over policy minutiae in a speech or op-ed have reduced more than one congressional office to a Hobbesian state of nature. So here are two tips for finding the right balance between wonkiness and accessibility. Tip #1 : Ask yourself who your audience is. If they are experts, then write wonky. If they’re laymen, make the language more accessible. If the answer is somewhere in between, Tip #2 is that when you have to write for both, write to both. Think of your audience as two particular people: Dr. X, a world-renowned expert on your topic, and Mrs. Y, a smart, educated, and curious layman. Set your tone, choose your words and emphases, and present your argument and evidence in such a way that it won’t bore Dr. X or bewilder Mrs. Y. Provide enough context so non-experts can follow along, but not so much that experts will feel their intelligence insulted. If you can connect with both Dr. X and Mrs. Y, you’ll connect with everyone in between them too. Until next week… keep writing!