They say that confession’s good for the soul. They also say that power corrupts. Well, whoever they are, they tend to talk in platitudes.
But there’s one they missed: Failure to apologise corrupts irredeemably. [Listen to this post]
You see… when you’re a politician, particularly at the national level, and especially when you’re from a G8 member nation, there almost inevitably comes a point where having done something wrong, somebody says to you – “Did you do it?”
Clinton wasn’t the first, and he’s by no means the last, but he does give us a textbook example of what can go wrong when you start adamantly denying something that – while perhaps morally reprehensible – does not actually impede your ability to govern in a democratic society, and can be dealt with under conditions of honesty and genuine remorse.
The point of no return – the very moment you can pinpoint as the second that you lose the right to have the trust of the people you’re supposed to represent – is the moment you say ‘No, I didn’t do that…’
There’s been a spot of that here in the UK recently. Class clown Boris Johnson, having gotten away with accusing Liverpool of being a boring little town, was sacked from his prime position in the Conservative Party – ostensibly not for having an affair, but for lying about it.
Tony Blair’s been taking the high moral ground, but both parties have managed to get a fair bit of milage out of it. Vote socialist, but shag Tory seems to be the message. Especially when the message appears in The Spectator, which Johnson also edits.
Now is it just me or does it seem like controlling the media has more opportunity for a detrimental effect on your ability to operate effectively as an elected representative of the public interest than – say – sleeping with your secretary?
Home Secretary David Blunkett’s also in a spot of bother at the moment. He had a mistress – which could have been public knowledge at any time, but it was decided that it didn’t affect his job so it was left alone. But now there are allegations that he helped her secure a Visa for her nanny – a piece of paper that can take up to a year to process sped through in two weeks.
I did no wrong, said Blunkett.
Yeah, perhaps – but I can’t help thinking it feels like famous last words. Like ‘I am not a crook‘ or ‘There is no doubt that there are weapons of mass destruction in Iraq” or “TV newsreaders in this country get a million dollars for walking out on the job“.
“I did no wrong.” says Blunkett. Oh wait… except for that wrong he did (and I quote):
On Tuesday Mr Blunkett said he was repaying £180 to Parliament for the first class train ticket he gave to [his mistress] Mrs Quinn. He apologised for his [airquotes] “genuine mistake”.
There are any number of professions that could benefit from the lesson of just saying – “…you know what? I made a mistake. I’m very sorry. Please let me try and put that right.”
It’s just good manners.
Beacuse you know what? We’re a forgiving lot, we human beings. We understand that people screw up. We do it ourselves.
And it’s not just human beings. Even Microsoft is accepting apologies at the moment. You can say ‘whoops, sorry about stealing your operating system for home use’ – and they’ll forgive you.
But the moment you say – “no, not my fault. It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it” – we’ll turn on you.
But understanding that, we still seem to have difficulty getting past that confessional thing.
Having moved to the other side of the world in the last couple of months, I’ve had many opportunities to forgive people for their appalling customer service, but almost routinely, I’ve been met with a denial of responsibility.
I didn’t bring couches, beds, televisions and kitchen appliances to the UK with me, and so I had been hoping that the furnished place I viewed and signed for would actually still contain furniture when I moved into it not long after. That, the estate agent will have me believe is ‘not their fault’.
I made sure that all the relevant authorities and members of my extended contact book had my home telephone number here in Moseley, just in time for British Telecom to change it to an entirely different one without telling us.
I had hoped that the boat that was due to arrive in mid-October would actually contain the boxes with our winter clothes and other useful possessions. To find out in early November that those possessions were actually still in New Zealand – and then to find out a month later that they wouldn’t arrive until 2005 was a splendid opportunity for a round of apologies and forgivenesses, hopefully with a touch of restitution along the way.
Now these things have resolved themselves, of a fashion – but it’s always an unsatisfactory resolution, and one that involves long periods of shouting, which I enjoy on occasion with bank tellers, but which I don’t seek out.
So for the sake of getting this off my chest, here are some things that just, apparently, need to be said:
If you’re a politician and you make a mistake, don’t for God’s sake try and get away with it. It simply never works.
If you’re a business and you screw somebody around, for God’s sake make sure you get to them before they get to you and apologise fully and with some meaningful offer that will help rectify the situation. Go overboard if you have to. They are CUSTOMERS.
And if you’re just a person who messes up – well, welcome to the club. You don’t have to be right all the time. Practice it with me now:
“I’m sorry. I screwed up. What can we do to make this better?”
But if there’s anything worse than doing all you can to avoid admitting error and making an apology, it’s that thing where you demand an apology where clearly none is warranted.
Blair was absolved in the most legalistic sense of any responsibility for saying that the WMDs were a good reason to go to war. Okay, fine. I can see why that might have been a good decision in the interests of stability and keeping up appearances.
But his rabid insistence on an apology from all those who doubted him was just unattractive.
Doctors, politicians, talkback hosts, estate and shipping agents, bureaucrats of all persuasions – we would prefer you to be right every time, just as much as you would – if not more so. But we do get that you’re not infallible.
Just put your hand up. We’ll understand.
