The Power of a Good Label

Ulysses S. Grant was the eighteenth president of the United States. Prior to that, he was the top general of the North in America's Civil War whose strategies on the battle field ensured that the nation remained "a perfect union." These two factoids alone make Grant one of the best known figures in U.S. history. But what is not known by many is that the name he is known by was not the name with which he was given as a new born. His actual name was Hiram Ulysses Grant. Grant felt very self-conscious about that, particularly after his acceptance into the West Point Academy. As many cadets were known by their initials, the last thing he wanted was to be called HUG.  

Grant decided to reverse the order of his first and middle names and therefore avoid what he figured would be non-stop jokes from his peers. Coincidently, just as he was being formally enrolled at West he discovered a clerk had mistakenly listed his middle name as "Simpson." In a quick decision, Grant then confirmed his full name as what he came to be known as throughout the U.S. and even much of the world. Beside this being an interesting story, I connect it to communication in that it represents how much a label or name of something can have. Would "HUG," for instance, have been so highly regarded by soldiers during the Civil War or by the American public after that terrible conflict? 

I do not think it is much of a stretch to note how much people seem to love good labels. Think of some of the more famous ones over the past 75 years or so: "New Deal," "The Great Society" and even, most recently, "Make America Great Again." We as a people seem to gravitate to them much in the same way a moth is attracted to bright lights. Often, once a phrase does catch on, it no longer seems to be matter its origin or even how credible it might be. Without question, labels can be and often are effective vehicles for communicating specific messages. Ideally, however, they should be built on firm ground and then fortified with tangible success.