“Hi Chris”. I immediately recognised the voice, even though I’d spent more time with her in the lift than anywhere else. She’d done this before, and I don’t forget this stuff. It was the premier’s private secretary, looking for the short-cut. “What’s this apology bullshit all about?”
Yes, we are somewhere in the mid-’90s, when the issue came to the boil. Magically, I was totally briefed. So often on these occasions you are caught short, or half-baked. “Let me get back to you” is a shamefaced last resort.
I remember it like yesterday. Everyone is surprised on how little difference you can make, no matter how close you get to the top, as you get trapped in presupposing frame after frame. This time I was on the job.
“Firstly, I have attorney-general’s advice that there is no necessary liability to compensation”.
Yes folks, if you want to eat in real policy land, that’s the first issue.
“Secondly, offering an apology is the only way you can dispose of this issue. If you refuse, you’ll be asked next week, and the next week, and so on. Apologise, and it goes away.”
[Note for students of public policy: heads of government are really sensitive to getting rid of troublesome things as fast as possible. Always prefer the fast disposal solution, on balance, unless you like overtime.]
“Finally, if I can say so, I also think it matters”. This was my bold bit, to be distinguished from my above super competence. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure”.
“It matters because an apology is a form of validation that a perpetrator can uniquely offer a victim. The issue was perfectly expressed in a movie I saw last week.”
“What?”
“Roman Polanski’s new film Death and the Maiden captures the ongoing torture of the victim of human rights injustices better than anything else I’ve ever seen. The apology is crucial as a form of validation, as a way of letting the past become the past.”
The film’s on television for the first time this Saturday, and that was a true story. She said that she would see the film, and, not long after, my premier offered an apology for the state government’s part in the horror of the Stolen Generations.
I have no idea whether she really did see the film, or whether that phone call really made any difference whatsoever in the final analysis. But I’m proud to have been on the job, and I still recommend this film as a way of discovering why validation matters. I wasn’t surprised to later find that the original play featured in South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
If you’re wavering, let me assure you that it also works as a thriller, and stars Sigourney Weaver, Ben Kingsley and Stuart Wilson.
The only problem is that it is on at 2 am, which will really be Sunday morning. So this notice is only for insomniacs, shift workers and the video un-challenged.
I’m quite knackered, Chris, so nothing much to say, but just wanted to say - nice post!
I have read this three times now and still don’t understand it.
The way I read it, Cameron, is that an apology makes a whole lot more sense than ducking the issue.
The current living example is with “Mr T”. Mandy Vanstone, not always the most loved Howard Minister (albeit she does get to clean up a lot of messy portfolios), was unequivocal in her apology. Well she did make a passing reference to our appalling treatment of mental health sufferers, but she never sought to excuse her department.
Compare that with Ruddock’s evasion and various other episodes back to Tampa and Children Overboard.
It makes a lot more sense to the victim and family, and gives everybody a chance of learning from it.
Thanks good people.
Cameron, it’s a post about a film that’s on tomorrow night/Sunday morning, which I once cited as a real life policy wonk, perhaps with good effect, or perhaps none. Regardless, it’s a great filum, albeit somewhat harrowing.
Chris, ok I got confused, it changed tack quickly, at first I thought you were writing about a personal experience then about apologising and then spruiking some show.
Nice work cs, and informative as to how govt works.