Did Lindiwe Sisulu apologise for her recent crass remarks, as the presidency maintains — or not, as she insists? It doesn’t matter. Everybody knows the tourism minister’s assault on the constitution and black judges was an unscrupulous gambit to defenestrate President Cyril Ramaphosa. So any apology would be as fake as her newfound passion for “decolonising” bombast. Frankly, most apologies these days from public figures have become a hollow ritual.
Simultaneously, former chief justice Mogoeng Mogoeng was ordered by the judicial conduct appeals committee to apologise. His fault was to become embroiled in political controversy, asserting in 2020 his love of Israel. At the time, the former chief justice defended himself, and in a subsequent affidavit stated that he was merely fulfilling his religious duty. He may, or may not, apologise. But everyone knows what he really thinks. In the age of social media, the modern apology has dwindled into a hypocritical gesture.
A perfect illustration was revealed last week in the British parliament. A Tory MP was suspended for a day after a watchdog found that he undermined his own apology to the House of Commons in June 2021. In media interviews, Daniel Kawczynski showed that he did not mean his apology, claiming the process was unfair and that he had no choice. He has now, you guessed, been ordered to make a fresh apology.
It’s the brazenness of duplicity that’s startling. Once upon a time, when I was at school and had committed an offence for which teachers demanded a retraction, it was our schoolboy custom to recite the required mea culpa with apparent sincerity, all the while with fingers crossed behind one’s back. The crossing of fingers was a superstitious rite to indicate that one didn’t mean a word of it.
But at least we attempted to hide our duplicity. Today, especially with politicians, fingers are no longer crossed behind their back but stuck up to the public.
A decade ago, when the then British prime minister, David Cameron, made the undiplomatic claim that Nigeria was “fantastically corrupt”, there was a chorus of demands that he apologise. But the Nigerian president, Muhammadu Buhari, demurred. “What I am demanding is the return of assets in the UK that are the product of corruption in Nigeria,” he said. “What would I do with an apology?”
A practical response. Cameron’s Eton education almost certainly taught him to keep his fingers crossed when forced to say things he didn’t believe. And what are apologies from British prime ministers worth these days? Last week, Boris Johnson apologised for attending a “bring your own booze” party in the garden of 10 Downing Street when the rest of the country was banned from socialising. He “thought” the evening gathering, drinks in hand, was “a work event”. Said with a straight face, it’s as credible as “the dog ate my homework”.
Everyone, from CEOs to movie stars, plays this game. In 2017, Helen Zille said there were positive aspects to colonialism. After a public outcry, and with her arm twisted by then DA leader Mmusi Maimane, Zille apologised, saying her comments were “indefensible”, “insensitive” and had “undermined” Maimane. One of her offending tweets about colonialism had thrown down the gauntlet, “Just be honest, please.” So, to take up Zille’s challenge, it’s legitimate to ask if that apology was itself honest or tactical. Impossible to know. Before too long Maimane was out, though, and Zille back.
Another standard response — I’m sorry if my comments offended anyone — is shrewder. That way you retain your opinion while implying the affronted person is at fault
Another standard response — “I’m sorry if my comments offended anyone” — is shrewder. That way you retain your opinion while implying the affronted person is at fault. In the 21st century there are legions of zombies trawling the internet day and night for something about which to be mortally outraged.
My favourite modern apology is the disclaimer, “That’s not who I am!” This is habitually trotted out after some celebrity has been caught sending snaps of their private parts to minors, or caught on video in full racist rant. It neatly implies the abhorrent conduct was involuntary, as though they’d been abducted by aliens and forced to commit the offence against their will. Meanwhile, of course, everyone has had a brief glimpse of exactly who they are.
PS — an apology. If Sisulu has taken offence to any possible slight above, I can only say that I’m sorry. Sorry that I haven’t had the space to fully express my contempt for her shameful and shameless opportunism.
• Rostron is a journalist and author.
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