Few among us could genuinely deny having made errors of judgment, whether inadvertently or otherwise. To err is human, as we are told. However, why do those in positions of power find it so hard to say sorry and admit their mistakes?
This affliction is not the preserve of the politician but there’s a certain regularity of occurrence within the Westminster estate. This week it’s Rachel Reeves and her necessary ‘U-turn’ on winter fuel payments to pensioners. Recently it was Sir Keir Starmer’s turn, over the ‘glasses for passes’ controversy, though apology came there none. To give him his due, the PM is learning – having recognised his rudeness to Plaid Cymru’s leader, Liz Saville Roberts saying simply: “I think last week I was overly rude and I apologise.” The matter was rightly then put to bed.
A swift admission, recognition of wrongdoing or perceived wrongdoing, personal reflection and public apology allows media commentators and therefore voters to move on.
But similar responsibilities apply to leaders of businesses, from whom an apology for the wrongdoing of their companies and/or themselves usually has to be forced out of them only after bucketloads of ink has been devoted to the scandal. It took Paula Vennells 5 years after leaving the Post Office and a decade or more after the wrongful prosecutions of postmasters, to utter a public apology – through tears – at the Inquiry. Too little too late.
Sir Ken Clarke was roundly criticised after failing to acknowledge his responsibilities and those of his department during the handling of the contaminated blood issue in the 70s and 80s that gave rise to thousands of people being infected by HIV, HepC and other diseases. His evidence to the Inquiry was tainted by that failure, and he clearly caused great irritation to the Chair.
Dame Alison Rose, former CEO of NatWest, was somewhat quicker in recognising her “error of judgment” when discussing the bank’s treatment of Nigel Farage – a mere three weeks after the story was exposed by the BBC. Her resignation took a further 24 hrs.
The CBI’s former head, Tony Danker, was more swift – but his was a qualified apology in the wake of non-financial misconduct allegations, taking a further three weeks to proffer a fulsome regret, alongside his resignation.
Some will say that internal investigations take time for the truth to emerge – but a news-hungry media or disgruntled voters, consumers or shareholders rarely have the patience to dance to the rhythm of a highly-lawyered investigation.
There’s a common theme that runs through these initial reactions to regulatory shortcomings, governance failures, personal misconduct and breaches of duty: an initial lack of awareness of the “right thing” to do that usually takes outsiders to point out. Yet an immediate response could be pretty simple: tell the truth as far as it’s known, acknowledge the perception of past mistakes and their impact and don’t shy away from saying sorry. In other words, own the difficulty.
In some cases, the sting may not be fully eased by these three obvious steps, but they are likely to go a good way towards pacifying an increasingly disillusioned audience being whipped up by a ruthless fourth estate. Public opinion can sway as more facts emerge, but reputations are rarely enhanced by the drip feed of titbits that give oxygen to the controversy yet raise more questions than answers.
In our line of work we recognise the power of ‘sorry’ to take the wind out of the sails of even the most ardent opponent. Contrary to the beliefs of some in the legal sector, an apology is not necessarily an admission of liability, rather an expression of empathy that, provided sincerely expressed, can be a route to forgiveness or at least acceptance and a level of mutual understanding.
Politics has its own unique drivers – and the deep-seated aversion to giving any currency to your political opponents from an admission of error is what drives the attempts at obfuscation, diversion and massaging of the truth, which simply enrages Joe Public.
To avoid this death spiral, captains of industry and public officials alike must take counsel from diverse and objective advisers prepared to speak truth to power in order to restore the most impactful of all reactions: trust. It comes from a willingness to demonstrate vulnerability in order to manage expectations about your intentions, competence, and reliability.
I’m sorry but sorry works – trust me!
