Because Americans love apologies so much, I've decided to apologize to my loyal readers today. So if I've offended any of you at any time for any reason during the past eight years, I apologize! OK, now I feel better.
This column idea came to me gradually as I watched a colorful parade of celebrities and public officials offer their apologies to the American people, and sometimes to the world, for a seemingly endless series of real and imaginary transgressions. Ex-President Bill Clinton apologized at least once a week, usually for very good reasons. Earlier this month, President Bush almost apologized for the mistreatment of Iraqi prisoners by American soldiers. He left the full-scale apologies to Defense Secretary Don Rumsfeld and Joint Chiefs Chairman Gen. Richard Myers.
Former anti-terrorism official Richard Clarke (no, not that Dick Clark) apologized for Sept. 11; National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice didn't. Janet Jackson apologized for her Super Bowl "wardrobe malfunction"; Howard Stern didn't. On and on it goes, and we love it, and clamor for more apologies.
Perhaps it's a Boomer thing. You know how they love to explore their feelings in public. "I feel your pain" - that sort of thing. Like when Katie Couric or Barbara Walters or Diane Sawyer ask the parents of an American hostage, "How did you feel when you saw your loved one on national TV?" My response would be, "Get those damn cameras out of my face." But that wouldn't show the required compassion and sensitivity. Besides, the networks love weeping relatives because it's "good TV," which is a debatable proposition even as it generates ratings.
In order to understand this cultural phenomenon, I turned to U.S. News & World Report columnist John Leo, who described several different kinds of public apologies in a recent piece titled, "I'm terribly sorry. Really."
"In a deeply therapeutic culture, apologies function like secular sacraments," Leo wrote. "But more and more people (especially the media) demand them, while fewer and fewer are willing to give them. So instead of 'I did it and I'm sorry,' we get fake apologies and conditional ones." Leo's examples follow (you can draw your own conclusions):
n The basic conditional apology: After calling the National Education Association a "terrorist organization," U.S. Education Secretary Rod Paige told NEA members, "If you took offense at anything I said, please accept my apology."
n The misdirection conditional: After saying that Sen. Robert Byrd, D-W.Va., a former member of the Ku Klux Klan, would have been a great Civil War senator, Sen. Chris Dodd, D-Conn., parsed his words as follows. "If in any way, by referencing the Civil War, I offended anyone, I apologize," he said.
n The I-gotta-be-me conditional: After turning a press conference into a brawl, boxer Mike Tyson explained: "I responded as I saw fit. In the process, things that I said may have offended members of the audience. To these people I offer my apologies."
n The subject-changing, head-scratching conditional: In 1985, after saying that South African Bishop Desmond Tutu was "a phony," televangelist Jerry Falwell said he meant that Tutu didn't speak for all South Africans. Oh, so that's it.
n The subject-changing, head-scratching, non-apology: When it was revealed that former Massachusetts Lt. Gov. Jane Swift had been using state employees to babysit her infant daughter, she said, "I won't apologize for trying to be a good mother."
n And my very favorite, the incomprehensible conditional: After a Hispanic State Department official complained when Africa-American Rep. Corinne Brown said the U.S. approach to Haiti was a racist policy concocted by "a bunch of white men," she apologized to Hispanics by saying, "You all (non-black people) look the same to me." Oh, now we understand.
Well, you get the idea. John Leo concluded his perceptive column by noting that although former anti-terrorism chief Richard Clarke apologized for the 9/11 terrorist attacks against New York and Washington, "His book makes clear that he doesn't believe he failed anyone." So much for that "sincere" apology. On the other hand, my generic apology at the outset of this column was oh-so-sincere. And if you don't believe me, I apologize all over again. Really.
n n n
Bruce Dewing's May 7 letter to the editor defending a proposed Washoe tribal casino at Indian Hills was revealing for what it said, and for what it didn't say. "The tribe will have the ultimate authority over the contemplated gaming activities ... as a sovereign nation," he wrote, "and the state will not (my emphasis) license the facility." Which proves my point that Indian casinos don't play by the same rules as everyone else. And there's one word that Dewing omitted: Taxes, because tribal casinos don't pay state or local taxes. I rest my case.
Guy W. Farmer, a semi-retired journalist and former U.S. diplomat, resides in Carson City.
