In Defense of Yapping
An unlikely antidote to the attention crisis.
Plenty of ink has already been spilled on attention. We’ve heard about the average attention span shortening to only 47 seconds. (That’s just enough time to make it through 1/7th of Adrien Brody’s historically long Oscar acceptance speech before zoning out.) But despite the overabundance of coverage, most politicians have yet to find a tried-and-true way to squeeze their platform into the ever-narrowing window of voter awareness.
That is, except for Donald Trump. Even before he ran for president, his Twitter presence displayed an early (if loathsome) mastery of the short-form message. (For example, he summed up his 2016 campaign message in this typically mendacious six-word tweet: “Mexico will pay for the wall!”) In last fall’s campaign, he also proved to have an unfortunate penchant for longform. There were his infamous rally speeches, some that went on for up to 90 minutes, stuffed with tangential anecdotes about windmills and “the late great Hannibal Lecter.” And then there were his podcast appearances, including a three-hour interview with Joe Rogan that helped him secure the highly discussed “bro-vote” and, subsequently, the election.
Meanwhile, Democrats remain fixated on replicating the virality of short-form content with TikTok trends and quippy soundbites. But the mixed success of these efforts indicates they may be learning the wrong lessons from 2024. Still, while some of them abandon their proclivity for the melismatic, one Democrat appears to be embracing his.
On March 31, 2025, New Jersey Senator Cory Booker kicked off a record-breaking twenty-five hour speech on the Senate floor. In doing so, he challenged the conventional wisdom that public sentiment in this digital age can only be captured with a quick viral moment. Instead, he grabbed the national narrative by matching style with substance, and then backing up his argument with bold action.
While Trump’s 2024 messaging often appeared aimless, it actually adhered to a plan designed by one of his most prescient (and conniving) advisors. All the way back in 2018, Steve Bannon revealed the Trump team’s “flood the zone” media strategy to splinter the Democratic Party’s attention: overwhelm attention spans with too many outlandish public statements, court rulings, and executive orders. But as the Trump team banks on Democratic disorganization, Booker’s marathon speech offered an unlikely antidote to the attention-driven news cycle. Booker — a former 2020 presidential candidate widely known for his compassion, idealism, and tendency to hug his Senate colleagues of both parties — never wavered in his sincere optimism. He spoke earnestly about the weight of this moment — the dangers of the Trump Administration, the pain of his constituents, and the possibility of a path forward — for as long as his body would allow.
And he did it while taking on a format that’s been historically used for the passion projects of various right-wing demagogues. Prior to Booker’s remarks, the record for the longest Senate speech was held by Strom Thurmond, the late Senator from South Carolina. In 1957, he filibustered for twenty-four hours and eight minutes to stall the passage of the Civil Rights Act. More recently, Ted Cruz filibustered for twenty-one hours to halt a vote on the Affordable Care Act. Cruz managed to hold the floor, but once he started reciting Dr. Seuss to pass the time, he gave his audience an excuse to look away, while affirming the vacuity of his argument.
In contrast, Booker never forgot the gravity of his opportunity. He had the attention of the American public and used it to advocate for his constituents. Rather than fill the space for the sake of filling it, he maximized each moment to amplify his criticism of the current administration. He passed the time by reading real letters from real constituents: one who credited Medicaid with saving their life multiple times; one Navy veteran who relies on Medicaid for mental healthcare; a former USAID contractor ousted by DOGE; seniors scared of losing their Social Security; and parents and teachers concerned that their children’s schools could lose Title I funding.
The genius of this substantive speech is that he also created clippable content that took off on social. It wasn’t just a compelling longform, the clips of his speech that were cut and shared on his TikTok have amassed over 13 million views. By elevating real testimonies, Booker broke through the supposedly flooded zone and reminded his audience that Trump’s rhetoric isn’t theoretical — it’s affecting the lives of liberal and conservative Americans alike.
Perhaps most importantly, Booker’s speech quenched the Democratic thirst for high-stakes action to meet a high-stakes moment. A speech of this length has to serve a greater purpose while making its particular point. Yes, you’re holding the floor to halt normal proceedings, but you’re also creating a platform to make your case for a cause that’s bigger than any speech of any length. By fasting in the preceding days, and making it through twenty-five hours and five minutes without sitting down or using the restroom, he proved his seriousness by putting his body on the line. The accomplishment of this feat has only been reinforced by false if funny allegations that he wore a diaper. (For the record, Strom Thurmond used a bucket in a cloak room to relieve himself during his filibuster.) Booker delivered his message with the same ferocity with which Nancy Pelosi texted voters during the campaign. His medium matched the urgency of his message.
Critics of the speech have argued that this was just a vapid display of political theater — a critique that’s hardly new to Booker’s brand. Back when he was Mayor of Newark, the Washington Post called him “almost too good to be true.” At the time, he was living in an dilapidated affordable apartment building to cast a light on the neglectful state of the city’s public housing. Before that, he first made a name for himself as a Newark City Councilor. Inspired by the sit-ins of the civil rights movement, he staged a 10-day hunger strike while camping in a tent outside of a housing project to pressure a neglectful landlord. And as senator, he once lived on a weekly food budget of $30 to raise awareness about the meager assistance allotted to New Jersey food stamp recipients. He even once saved a dog from freezing in the cold after a constituent tweeted to notify him about it. (Really.) So, Booker is hardly new to this kind of dramatic political action — in fact, it’s been the common thread running throughout his career.
Booker’s years of walking the walk prove that his ostensible antics come from a place of sincerity. He also made that clear in the first ten minutes of his speech, when he referenced the late civil rights champion, Congressman John Lewis. Booker reminded his audience that Lewis regularly staged protests that put “himself in harm’s way to bring attention to the injustices of the world.” Then he invoked Lewis’s famous words when he told his fellow senators, “Tonight, I rise with the intention of getting in some good trouble.” Just as he did as a young city councilor, Booker once again took inspiration from the Civil Rights movement, and found a way to put his body on the line for his cause.
The results speak for themselves. Booker’s office received 28,000 voicemails of support, and his TikTok account has gained over 800,000 followers. Recent (and premature) polls have put him in contention for the 2028 Democratic presidential nomination, with one poll even putting him in second place. But his speech didn’t just impact his favorability ratings. His fearlessness reignited a discouraged Democratic Party. In the days following his remarks, millions of Americans took to the streets to protest the Trump Administration, with some displaying signs inspired by Booker’s words.
In case there was any doubt that Booker would continue to stand up to this administration, he’s already staged another protest. This time, he opted for a sit-in on the steps of the Capitol with House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries. It marks a continued fulfillment of his call-to-action in the last few hours of his marathon speech: “I’m begging people, don’t let this be another normal day in America.”
In other words, for as long as this country feels abnormal, Americans and our leaders should continue to act abnormally in response. Protestors and leaders alike can find creative ways to break through the noise and channel that noise into action. Actions may speak louder than words, but Booker proves that it is the combination of meaningful action and meaningful words that move us most.
– Erin Mooney (WWW intern)
In “Orations Worth Ovations,” professional speechwriters analyze great speeches (real or fictional, historic or personal) and explain what makes them so good.
Follow West Wing Writers on LinkedIn.
