The eight weasel ways MPs avoid saying sorry
Dominic Lawson
In years to come, psychologists will be writing doctoral theses on the responses by British MPs to the charges of dishonesty in the great allowances scandal of 2009. In the meantime it has been fascinating to apply that profession’s existing state of knowledge to the events of the past week;
Ethics in Psychotherapy and Counselling: A Practical Guide (2007), by Kenneth Pope and Melba Vasquez, has been most helpful.
In a section entitled Using Words to Deceive, Pope and Vasquez identify what they call “eight bogus apologies”. These include: “substitute the general for the specific”, “use the passive voice”, “use the abstract language of technicalities”, “make unimportant by contrasting with what did not occur”, “smother the events in the language of attack” and “replace intentional unethical behaviour with the language of accidents, misfortune and mistakes”.
This last is perhaps the one most favoured by those caught out in false claims under the much abused “additional costs allowance”. For example, Jack Straw, the Blackburn MP and justice secretary, shown to have successfully claimed reimbursement for the full council tax on a home for which he had in fact received a 50% council tax discount, said: “I will not be the only person in Blackburn who’s made an error in good faith . . . the system needs reform.” As a matter of fact, I do believe Straw was guilty of incompetence rather than theft, but the “error in good faith” rubric, combined with blaming “the system”, has become the stock response with which we have become wearily familiar.
The locus classicus of the “good faith” get-out was provided by Tony Blair, after it became clear beyond dispute that the Iraq war had been based on false claims. He declared, inimitably: “I have searched my conscience, not in the spirit of obstinacy, but in genuine reconsideration . . . For any mistakes made in good faith I of course take full responsibility.”
It’s true the phrase “good faith” is widely used in legal argument, but in a politician’s hands it is also cunningly designed to create the impression that the person concerned is actually “good” as well as, in Blair’s case, motivated by some higher moral authority.
Similarly, that other maddening phrase so favoured by the allowance abusers – “it was a genuine mistake” – has an intended meaning beyond merely the avoidance of a straightforward apology. So when Andy Burnham, the culture secretary, describes as “a genuine mistake” his claiming for a towelling robe as “wholly necessary” for the performance of his parliamentary duties, we are meant to think not just that this was better than an ordinary unadorned mistake, but that this is the sort of error made by a “genuine” person.
The use of the “passive voice” was the choice of Margaret Beckett when David Dimbleby asked her on BBC1’s Question Time about her claiming for hanging baskets and pot plants. The feisty housing minister responded: “That was a mistake. It should not have been made.” The first person singular is notable by its absence.
Although the subsequent heckling of Mrs Beckett was judged to be a news story, this was much less interesting than Sir Menzies Campbell’s defence of his own behaviour in charging his interior decorator’s bill to the taxpayer. He told the studio audience he had now decided that it was wrong to have done this and he would repay the money; but when Dimbleby asked the former leader of the Liberal Democrats why this thought had not occurred to him when he made the claim, Campbell blurted: “The public perceptions at the time were quite different.”
Here, under pressure from an expert inquisitor, was something much closer to the truth than all these carefully contrived official statements of regret. Campbell – a man whose moral tone has always managed to be simultaneously grandiloquent and prim – was saying nothing more than: “Back then we thought we could get away with it.” Moral Ming, let’s not forget, had “decided” to repay the money only after his dealings had been made public. 8)
Perhaps the most convoluted of all the bogus apologies came from the husband-and-wife team of Tory MPs Andrew MacKay and Julie Kirkbride; they nominated two different properties as their singular designated “second home”, thus getting the public to finance both their houses. While Kirkbride said, “I bitterly regret the system” (substituting the general for the specific), her husband told his constituency association: “I am sorry we have all become embroiled in this expenses row, particularly as I was following advice.” Yes, it was the junior clerks of the parliamentary fees office who should apologise for allowing MPs to make claims that have not survived a day of public scrutiny. Of course, it would be too much to expect such honourable members to have made their own independent judgment of what was right and proper.
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http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/commen ... 301874.ece