The Power Schmooze

My first move to Washington, 18 years ago, was an introduction to schmoozing. Israelis didn’t really schmooze back then. Israelis talked, argued, vented. But when they small-talked (there is no term for small talk in Hebrew; Israelis simply say smol-tok), they typically had no agenda. They just chatted.

One of the things that Israelis have always most disliked about Americans was the impression that when Americans interact with you, they always have a hidden agenda, an interest: not a genuine interest in you, but in something they can get from you.

Even if this is an Israeli misperception, a stereotype, it does apply to Washington. Here, you can find an agenda behind almost any kind of discourse, even small talk. In fact, contemporary American schmoozing can be defined as small talk with an agenda or small talk with a purpose. The American Heritage Dictionary defines the verb schmooze as: “To converse casually, especially in order to gain an advantage or make a social connection.” Merriam-Webster defines it as “to chat in a friendly and persuasive manner especially so as to gain favor, business, or connections.” There are other words and phrases with similar meanings—hobnob, rub elbows, and the like—but none seems to share the slickness of schmooze.

Schmoozing, the word itself, has dark, convoluted roots. Schmooze traces its lineage back to Hebrew; shmu’ot (the plural of shmu’ah) are rumors, or worthless—potentially harmful—chatter. According to Jewish tradition, one should aspire for his discourse to always serve a divine purpose. Worldly, unrestrained chatter always carries the risk of lashon hara (“evil tongue”), the terrible sin of gossip.

Centuries later, was Yiddishized as . It evolved to denote worthless discourse among European Jews, according to the prolific Israeli scholar Abraham Stahl.

In his 1999 Hebrew book, The Origin of Words, Stahl explains that schmu’es became ubiquitous in Yiddish, to denote nonsense, baloney or worthlessness. Gradually, it made its way into other languages. In Polish, it became szmonces (pronounced “schmontzes”). Contemporary Polish dictionaries define szmonces as a quip, a sarcastic remark, or nonsensical speech; it can also refer to worthless, tchotchke-like objects. The Jews of Alsace-Lorraine, according to Stahl, used the rhyming expression schmontzes biriontzes, a mispronunciation of the French words pour rien dire (to say nothing, or to talk in vain). According to Stahl, there is a similar version of schmu’es in Dutch, too.

The Yiddish schmu’es was so powerful that it also made its way into German, as well, and in two different forms: one negative and one positive. Schmu machen (literally: to make schmu), in outdated colloquial German, meant to cheat or swindle, typically by telling half-lies. Contemporary German slang has spawned a related negative expression, I am told: “so ein schmu,” meaning “what a load of crap.” Oddly, the word also evolved into the common German verb schmusen, which means to cuddle or canoodle—one of the rare unambiguously positive descendents of schmu’es.

Schmooze has not always been so sinister as in its contemporary usage. At least at one point in its life in the Yiddish (and in Yiddish-inspired early American slang), it merely meant a light chat. Leo Rosten’s 1968 classic, The Joys of Yiddish, defines it as “a friendly, prolonged, heart-to-heart talk.” With time, however, this innocent form of communicating became more a goal-oriented verb than a benign or a benevolent noun. Rather than something that a mensch would do to lend a friendly ear, schmoozing now is a must-have skill for movers and shakers, whether in politics or in business. A quick search on the web will bring up at least a dozen “how to” books that include the words schmooze or schmoozing in the titles.

The authors of these books are typically successful businesspeople or self-help consultants. But if anyone could write the ultimate book on schmoozing it is the ultimate Washington creature, the lobbyist. Washington lobbyists are the ultimate schmoozing mavens.

Some years ago I wrote an article about a lobbyist who had just opened Washington’s only kosher deli. He took me to his upscale restaurant, Signatures, which was still under construction. This was where he would do his “heavy schmoozing” with important clients, members of Congress and other VIPs. That he did. According to BusinessWeek, this lobbyist hosted at least 60 political fundraisers there; it was “one of the biggest schmoozing operations in town,” Rob Jennings, president of a Republican fundraising organization, told the Washington Post.

This consummate schmoozer—yes, you guessed it—was none other than Jack Abramoff, the Republican lobbyist who a few years later was convicted on several counts of corruption and fraud.

As for me, after more than ten years in Washington, I think I’ve learned the basics of power-schmoozing. I’ve also learned, however, in recent visits to Israel, that like everything American, the schmooze has crossed the Atlantic to Israel. Israelis, particularly business professionals, now use schmoozing (both the word and the action it denotes) as naturally as they use laptops. Schmooze has finally made its way all the way back into Hebrew.—Ori Nir