WON'T ANYONE SAY 'SORRY'?
Simon Courtauld wonders why politicians find it even more difficult to apologise than they do to resign AT LUNCH the conversation turned to the character of John Major. A senior Labour politician asked why the Prime Minister had crossed the floor of the House of Commons to shake Eric Heffer's hand when, frail from cancer, he came into the chamber to speak for the last time before he died. Could it really have been the spontaneous gesture of a fundamental- ly decent man towards someone whom he respected? Slightly taken aback at the implied suggestion that a politician could not behave like a human being, I said I thought that Mr Major's gesture was pre- cisely and no more than that. And I went on to express surprise that such a man had not, almost as spontaneously, apologised for the fact that he had sacrificed the jobs of so many people, unnecessarily, on the now abandoned altar of the Exchange Rate Mechanism.
'Politicians don't do that sort of thing,' was the dismissive retort of a Conservative MP across the table. 'Politics means never having to say you're sorry.'
In the course of daily life, most of us apologise for, often trivial, actions and omissions which may result in harm, or merely inconvenience, to others. Not to do so is plain bad manners. So why should politicians not say sorry for the more seri- ously harmful effects of policies carried Out in their names? And might we not have more respect for them if they did?
Politicians will say that they must be unyielding in defence of principle and poli- cy. and that to apologise would betray weakness. But this is transparent rubbish. What is needed from our representatives in Parliament is an occasional outbreak of contrition if they are to persuade the elec- tors that they are capable of normal stan- dards of behaviour.
A Conservative MP, George Walden, wrote in the Daily Telegraph last month that politicians were now held in such low esteem that their only chance of regaining some credibility was by 'brute honesty'. But that may not be enough. It is notice- able that, since the summer, the sense of exasperation with the Government for its inadequacy, incompetence and dishonesty has been such that we do not just want our
politicians to tell us the truth. We want them to be men enough to do the decent thing. If they won't resign, let them at least admit that they may have been mistaken. The time for humility has never been more opportune, though we have yet to see evidence of it.
After the Autumn Statement, Professor Tim Congdon commented that 'the slide into deficit [£50 billion next year] might have caused a lesser man than Mr Norman Lamont to apologise and repent, but he clearly believes that neither apology nor penitence is needed'. That is not the Chancellor's style. Nor is it the style of the President of the Board of Trade, Michael Hese!tine, who was not inclined to apolo- gise to the miners but merely to 'regret the discourtesy to the House' in not informing MPs first about his proposed pit closures. (When David Mellor finally did resign on a personal matter, his 'one great regret', in a letter to the Prime Minister, was not his adulterous behaviour but that 'I am per- ceived by some as a point of weakness'.)
Along with the rest of us, even a few MPs these days are urging ministers to apologise. During House of Commons questions to the Attorney-General on the 'I was only obeying orders. . Matrix Churchill affair, the Labour MP Terry Davis asked, 'To revert to the experi- ence of the three men who were prosecut- ed, why will the Attorney-General not simply say, "Sony"?' He neither answered the question nor said sorry, though he did comment, without of course admitting any responsibility for the recent case, that `if anybody is prosecuted unnecessarily, then they have suffered hardship — and that I regret'.
Can one detect the makings of an apolo- gy here, the possibility that, when the Scott inquiry has reported, someone in the Gov- ernment may be prepared to say sorry for having been happy to let three innocent men go to jail? What is more certain is that the public mood now demands that politi- cians, when they err or when they cause suffering, should apologise. The other day, on Radio 2, Jeffrey Archer said sorry for having appeared to be rude about the resi- dents of Huddersfield, and he boasted, 'You heard it here first — a politician openly apologising.' But this is merely an apology for having given personal offence. Even Mrs Thatcher did that. During the 1987 election she apologised on television for making an offensive remark about peo- ple living on welfare. (When MPs offend each other in the House, they apologise only to the extent of withdrawing their remarks, under pressure from the Speaker, and often in such a way as to repeat the insult. Jeremy Thorpe, having once referred to Conservatives as 'bastards', withdrew the comment when it was pointed out that the word could be understood as a term of endearment.) As a child I was told that 'it would be so much easier if you just said sorry'. So would it be easier for politicians: they would not, above all, have to lie and dis- semble so frequently in order to cover up inconsistencies and tortuous changes of policy. The failure to give an honest expla- nation serves only to confuse and damage public debate.
By making a straightforward apology, even by accepting blame — though they may seek to draw a casuistical distinction between responsibility and culpability — far from appearing to be feeble and irreso- lute, they will actually earn our respect. History would surely accord a little more respect to Sir Samuel ('Slippery Sam') Hoare if he had once said sorry (he never did, not even in his resignation speech) — whether to the country, to the League of Nations, to Balthyin or to Haile Selassie — for having made a pact with Laval to give more than half of Abyssinia to Mussolini.
When Cabinet ministers next celebrate Holy Communion — there are, presum- ably, a few God-fearing men and women in the Government — let them ponder their words as they make the general Confes- sion: 'We do earnestly repent, And are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; The remembrance of them is grievous unto us; The burden of them is intolerable.'
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