The Unpology: How Republicans Never Say They're Sorry
In 1997, Seinfeld introduced Americans to the "unvitation." The
unvitation enables the cynical person to seemingly satisfy the
demands of social etiquette by extending an invitation to an event or
gathering which they know the recipient will - or must - reject.
As we fast forward to 2007, Americans are witnessing Republicans
perfect a similar act of social hypocrisy and cynicism: the Unpology.
Facing recriminations for ethical failings, racist behavior, sexist
statements or outright criminality, this new generation of Republican
wrong-doers delivers the facade of apology by uttering obligatory
words of remorse devoid of actual regret, contrition - or even an
admission of guilt.
As AmericaBlog notes this morning, Rep. Bill Sali (R-ID) is just the
latest Republican to offer Americans an unpology that is neither
heartfelt nor sincere. On August 8th, Sali in an interview with the
Christian American Family News Network joined CNN's Glenn Beck in
attacking Rep. Keith Ellison (D-MN), the first Muslim elected to
Congress.
"We have not only a Hindu prayer being offered in the Senate, we have
a Muslim member of the House of Representatives now, Keith Ellison
from Minnesota. Those are changes - and they are not what was
envisioned by the Founding Fathers."
Despite the Constitution's clear ban on religious tests for office,
Sali refused to back down on his claim that the Founding Fathers
fought for "principles found in Scripture" and that "the dangerous
part is straying from these principles." But August 16th, even Sali
recognized that propriety demanded the form, if not the actual
content of, an apology to Ellison:
"I think that Keith deserves a call from me - not necessarily because
of what's in my heart or in my mind, but because of how it's been
portrayed."
We learned this morning that the Sali unpology was completed with a
private email to Ellison. As Sali spokesman Wayne Hoffman put it, "He
said that he wanted to make sure that Congressman Ellison understood
that he meant no harm or disrespect."
Sali's is just the latest example of a specific type of faux
Republican remorse, the Conditional Unpology. That is, the
conservative in question is not objectively sorry per se, but wishes
to expresses a patina of regret only to "those who may have been
offended." Here, contrition is contingent on the perception of
offense in the eye of the beholder.
The Conditional Unpology has a rich tradition in the recent history
of Republican cynicism. Virginia Senator George Allen's "macaca
moment" provides just one classic example. Refusing to acknowledge
the racist baggage of his macaca comment, Allen delivered this
textbook unpology:
"Yesterday, I apologized to anyone who may have [been] offended by
the misinterpretation of my remarks. That was certainly not my
intent...I never want to embarrass or demean anyone and I apologize
if my comments offended this young man."
(It is worth noting that President Bush often relies on a cousin of
the conditional unpology, the conditional eulogy. Bush noted the 2002
death of Democratic Senator Paul Wellstone by offering the
conditional comfort, "May the good Lord bless those who grieve.")
Allen's pitfall suggests another relative of the conditional
archetype is the Inadvertent Unpology. In this scenario, the guilty
Republican claims he merely misspoke, accidentally used the wrong
words or was unaware of the hidden meanings of terms he casually
bandied about. Consider for example, the serial "tar baby" racist
slurs of Tony Snow, Mitt Romney and John McCain. Snow claimed his
critics were "unfamiliar with the pathways of American culture,"
while Romney spokesman Eric Ferhnstrom insisted his man was "unaware
that some people find the term objectionable and he's sorry if
anyone's offended." (The closest President Bush came to acknowledging
error also hinged on a mere linguistic stumble: "Using bad language
like, you know, 'bring them on' was a mistake.")
A third class of feigned GOP admissions of guilt is the
Transformational Unpology. Here, the miscreant claims that the
passage of time, tectonic shifts in social norms or some profound
personal experience has so altered the wrong-doer as to make him now
incapable of repeating the offense. Take for example the case of
Trent Lott (R-MS). In the wake of his disastrous 2002 praise for
legendary segregationist Strom Thurmond, Lott tried (unsuccessfully)
to keep his Senate Majority Leader post by using the "that was then,
this is now" approach on BET. "I'm part of the region and the history
that has not always done what it was supposed to do," Lott said,
adding "I'm now trying to find a way to deal with the understandable
hurt that I have caused." Unfortunately for Lott, the "times are a-
changin'" defense didn't work so well for someone from the land where
the "old times there are not forgotten."
Another unique form of Republican pseudo-contrition is the Rehabitual
Unpology. Ironically borrowed from Hollywood, this evasion claims
that disease, circumstance or abuse beyond his control led the
Republican in question to his sin. Mark Foley (R-FL), whose
predilection for young, male Congressional pages helped sink the GOP
during the 2006 mid-term elections, attributed his crimes to his own
experiences with clergy sex abuse and entered an alcohol
rehabilitation center. Following Foley into rehab was disgraced Ohio
Congressman Bob Ney, convicted for his role in the Abramoff affair.
For these and a host of other Republicans, the only real regrets were
that the devil made them do it - and that they got caught.
The Scooter Libby affair introduced another conservative
accountability avoidance strategy into the vernacular: the Unpology
by Proxy. Here, the felon himself never apologizes for his crimes at
all, instead deploying an army of surrogates (and even a legal
defense fund) to plead that his only offense was his excessive
dedication to his country. Dick Cheney joined President Bush, Fred
Thompson and virtually the entire right-wing chattering class in
defending Libby. Cheney like Bush said he was "saddened" for his
Libby and his family, and considered him "a man of the highest
intellect, judgment and personal integrity -- a man fully committed
to protecting the vital security interests of the United States."
Brandishing talking points like "no underlying crime" and the
"criminalization of politics," the unpology-by-proxy surrogates
ultimately portray the victimizer as the victim.
Which brings us to the final group of GOP unpologists, those who
utterly refuse to admit guilt, instead offering the Unpology of
Denial. Virginia Republican Virgil Goode, for example, never
apologized for his earlier anti-Muslim slurs addressed to Keith
Ellison. Indicted former House Majority Leader Tom Delay is the
expert practitioner of this specialty. Rejecting admonishments from
the House Ethics Committee and later indictment in Texas, The Hammer
helped pioneer the criminalization of politics defense. (Delay
apparently also believes it helps to claim that God is speaking to
him.) Of course, the leading Republican denier is President George W.
Bush. Given an opportunity to apologize for his myriad mistakes
during an April 13, 2004 press conference, President Bush could think
of none. "I'm sure something will pop into my head here," Bush said,
"maybe I'm not as quick on my feet as I should be in coming up with
one."
Given that conservative dissemblers such as Trent Lott and George
Allen ultimately failed to ward off defeat, it's only natural to ask:
why do Republicans persist in these Potemkin apologies? It's not just
because they believe political expediency demands it. No, the roots
of the unpology go much deeper. In the Age of Rove, the appearance of
infallibility is an essential ingredient to the Republican brand.
When Americans prefer Democratic positions across the board by often
overwhelming margins, the image of the determined Republican who
never falters and never backs down is a critical component to the
GOP's brand of toughness. If being in love means never having to say
you're sorry, then being Republican means never having to mean it.
But sometimes, taste, decorum and political necessity require
expressions of remorse, even from Republicans. When saying you're
sorry is unavoidable, the unpology is a Republican's best friend.
On Dec 6, 2007, at 8:18 AM, [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:
In a message dated 12/4/2007 2:53:15 P.M. Eastern Standard Time,
[EMAIL PROTECTED] writes:
Easy cowboy! I was just busting your chops because we're pals. I
do that to all my friends. Particularly Werner.
Is there some sort of symbol you can type in the Internet world to
let someone know your jabbing them in jest and not in earnest?
Reminds me of the old saying:
"When someone says it's not about the money,
you know it's the money."
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