Our pollies need to learn the art of the apology

The Coalition might privately regret knifing Turnbull, especially as the polls slide under Morrison. But they need to publicly admit to errors if they want to restore voter faith, writes Paul Williams.

Chances are you, or someone you know, is feeling more than an ounce of regret this morning.

Maybe it’s the simple remorse of having one too many liquid celebrations last night. Or maybe you’re ruing something a little longer over the course of the year: the job you didn’t take, the prospective love interest you rebuffed, or the now deceased relative you wished you’d visited more often.

At this time of year — amid resolutions to cut down drinking, lose weight or learn to play the guitar — pangs of regrets are only to be expected. They’re just the heartbeats of a reflective soul.

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Interestingly, the study of regret is a burgeoning field in psychology that now offers applications to medicine and economics. Understanding cancer patients’ regret after a lifetime of smoking, for example, provides insight into cancer prevention, just as getting a handle on “buyers’ remorse” can help us understand how normally rational consumers can make poor choices in the marketplace.

The Sid Vicious version of My Way is the only one that makes sense.

That’s why I can’t stand those who say — like Charlotte Bronte who famously opined “remorse is the poison of life” — they have no regrets. At best, that’s a lie; at worst, it’s an admission you’ve learned nothing about yourself or the path you’re on.

And that’s why I loathe Frank Sinatra’s tacky version of My Way in which he sings, “Regrets, I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention”. I much prefer Sid Vicious’ self-parodying rendition. Only when an ailing heroin addict ironically sings that verse do those insipid lyrics make sense.

It’s a point American psychology scholar Janet Landman appears to support when she argues that regret is not only normal but enormously useful to humans. Describing it as a “dynamic, changing process”, Landman argues that “only by first surrendering to regret can we eventually transcend it. And, “in transforming regret we transform the self”.

In short, if we don’t regret, we don’t change. And if we don’t change we learn nothing new about ourselves, we never improve as individuals, and — for all intents and purposes — we become the walking dead.

That thought came to mind when I read how three in 10 Australians now regret getting a tattoo. And that’s while the self-inking craze is yet to peak. With one in five Australians now tattooed, the proportion of ink-regretters will inevitably soar as they realise they’ve permanently defaced the public outer layer they must show employers and future spouses.

With the polls falling under Scott Morrison’s leadership, the Coalition have surely had some remorse over dumping Malcolm Turnbull as PM. Picture Kym Smith

And why? Because, captured by a herd mentality, young folk see their mates and celebrities do it. So much for the alleged individuality tattooing is supposed to scream.

I’ve long said there are two nascent but potentially lucrative professions just waiting for entrepreneurial killing: defamation litigation against internet trolls and tattoo removal laser surgery.

But one arena in which public regret seems lacking — despite its obvious need — is political leadership.

Common sense tells us private remorse is rampant in politics. Does anyone really think Liberal MPs aren’t second-guessing their decision to dump Malcolm Turnbull after the Coalition’s primary vote fell three points under Scott Morrison? Could anyone really doubt Senator Fraser Anning’s regret over his now infamous “final solution” immigration speech, or Bob Katter’s personal regret over embracing Anning so closely before jettisoning him?

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Of course they would personally regret these decisions, but silent regret in politics is about as useful as arrogantly boasting of success — it wins over no new supporters.

The 2018 Commonwealth Games chairman Peter Beattie made a public apology after outcry about the closing ceremony. Picture: Jerad Williams

That’s why our state and federal pollies must return to a time when pollies publicly admitted their errors. After all, publicly confessing regret to voters not only humanises the leader, it can lead to better policy and restore public faith in our democratic institutions.

Remember how former Queensland premier Peter Beattie admitted he got it wrong in 2002 after initially insisting the ambulance levy would be collected from council rates bills? Or how he backed away from punishing councils in 2007 should they demand referenda on council amalgamations? And just a few months ago he said about the Commonwealth Games closing ceremony, “I’m chairman of the organising committee, the buck stops with us.”

Remember how former PM John Howard expressed regret in 1998 for not apologising to First Australians? Or, in 2004, for not telling Australians the full story about the Abu Ghraib prison?

If party leaders, particularly those who paint themselves as most in touch with “grassroots” Australia — I’m looking at you, Bob Katter and Pauline Hanson — want to strike a genuine chord with voters, they can start with a new year media conference confessing their 2018 regrets, and how they will improve themselves in the coming year.

At least Voltaire got it right: “Every man is guilty of all the good he didn’t do.”

Paul Williams is a columnist for The Courier-Mail.