2 - 2000

Morality and Politics

Is It Not Enough Merely to Confess Mistakes

On guilt and trust in political life

by Geiko Müller-Fahrenholz

In recent months Germany has been shaken by a series of political scandals which have deeply upset the confidence of many citizens in politicians and parties. In particular the illegal dealings of the "Christian Democratic Union" (CDU) with funds donated to it have made headlines and provoked demands for consequences to be drawn at personal and political levels. But other parties too have met with criticism for their dealings with money.

"We made some mistakes," are the words we keep hearing from the CDU’s governing bodies, immediately followed by the promise, "We will clear up the whole matter and never make such mistakes again." This is commendable. It may even help towards clarification, but it does not make good the real damage done. The next words are, "We have made ourselves liable to prosecution - at least some of us have." And the "wrongdoers" are named and swiftly relieved of their responsibilities. What happens to them now is a matter for the courts. But there is a third statement which we do not hear, and it seems to me more important than the first two: "We are guilty of an offence." In politics no one wants to talk about guilt. But guilt has to be mentioned in order to bring this crisis to an acceptable conclusion. In what way?

When we vote, we entrust women and men with the most sensitive thing which exists in any state - the exercise of political power. Everyone who receives a political mandate receives our trust. Democracies are sensitive systems, because they can only function when trust is granted and when the response is appropriately meticulous. Anyone who misuses his or her power is betraying this trust, and thus putting democracy at risk. "Guilt" is a category which reaches further than the observance of laws and regulations. Someone who is not guilty in legal terms may nevertheless be guilty in a deeper sense, for a breach of trust as such is not within the power of a court to judge, yet it destroys more than can be contained in legal clauses. Therefore it is not enough for politicians merely to be ready to confess that they have made mistakes.

Everybody makes mistakes; this is part of being human. Every pupil in a Latin class knew that "To err is human". But anyone who remains at the level of "mistakes" is betting on a cheap mechanism which goes along with the general human tendency to err. You make a mistake, you admit it, you correct it (if possible), and then you can go your way, for wisdom comes through making mistakes, doesn’t it? This language of "mistakes" conceals the knowledge of who has had to suffer because of the faulty conduct. It plays down the social consequences and the interpersonal relations which are damaged.

Why is the guilt not recognised? Because then a different logic comes into play. A person who admits guilt suddenly stands exposed. One then has to confess, to the people by whom one has been entrusted with something terribly important, that one has betrayed their trust. Who admits guilt also gives up the initiative. He, she or they no longer "have" their power. Because it was only lent to them, they have lost it again. They have used up their credit. What to do now?

The only logical consequence which follows from being guilty is renunciation - in this case, the renunciation of political power. To give back the trust one has received, voluntarily and completely. What would this mean in concrete terms? The CDU Presidium must resign as a body, instead of isolating a few "scapegoats" and then returning to business as usual as they have been doing up to now. Resignation of the CDU Presidium would in no way create the much-feared "power vacuum", for this already exists. The resignation would instead make clear that the power is being given back to those who alone can grant it, namely the party members. In Hesse, in the same way, Prime Minister Kochs entire government must resign, and through new elections seek to regain the trust of the voters.

Such a resignation has nothing to do with a wholesale confession of guilt, but rather represents a first constructive step that follows from the consciousness of guilt; that is, it opens a space in which the real players, in this case the voters, can assert the right which they alone possess, the right to grant power. The renunciation of power, even on the part of those who personally have done nothing to deserve reproach, indicates respect for the citizens, to whom, in a democracy, the power really belongs.

In the present scandal, as in all political affairs, the real cause for despair is the unwillingness of those in power to clear off, quickly, voluntarily and decisively, and make room for the injustice done to be investigated, mistakes to be put right, the guilty to receive due punishment and trust to be granted anew. But since guilt cannot even be mentioned, there is no voluntary renunciation.

The ones "at the top" cling to power as if it were their property. Only facts that can no longer be denied are admitted as "mistakes". So the public has to yank their power away from them, bit by bit. In the process, everyone involved is hurt more than is good either for them personally or for the democratic system.

I do not know the leading politicians of the CDU, but it is by no means a matter of indifference to me whether they reduce themselves to shambles in this undignified tug-of-war over morsels of truth. This is the deepest misfortune for a party which still bears the "C" in its name.

There seem to be few among its members who say that it is not shameful to admit guilt, that only cowardly lies are shameful. Perhaps this is also because of the superstition that, in the political arena, to give up anything voluntarily is a sign of weakness. Nobody wants to look like a loser. But precisely the opposite is true: someone who is big enough to say, "I have shown myself unworthy of the citizens power entrusted to me," is in a better position, than those who say they are "in the right" and entitled to handle power again, and more responsibly. For in the end we all know that none of us is without guilt.

Geiko MÜller-Fahrenholz is a Protestant theologian He was director of the Evangelische Akademie in Bad Segeberg, Germany and later a leading staff member of the World Council of Churches. This article first appeared in the journal Publik-Forum, Zeitschrift kritischer Christen, Oberursel, 2/2000; we present it slightly abriged.