Sorry seems to be the hardest word

Pope Francis recently said “sorry” for his initial reaction to reports of sexual abuse by Chilean priests on young people. His first response to the accusations had been to dismiss them as frivolous, going as far as to demand evidence of the exploitation.

But, when confronted with an escalating situation, he ordered an inquiry – which was led by our own Archbishop Charles Scicluna who, given the success of his first mission, has now been given a second task and will return to South America on a pastoral visit to the divided diocese of Osorno in Chile. When, following the testimonies given to Mgr Scicluna, it became clear that the abuse had really taken place, the pope apologised for his earlier position and took action.

Saying sorry for one’s mistakes is a virtue. Admitting that one has taken a wrong decision, said the wrong words, or done the wrong thing is the first step forward on the right path.

Sadly, this does not happen very often – both

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in our personal lives, at the workplace and, perhaps more importantly, at a national level. By this we mean people in authority, be they politicians or persons holding important positions. It is extremely rare for anyone holding an office to come clean after some kind of misdemeanour – big or small as it may be – and express sorrow.

In Malta there have been many politicians who were caught with their hands in the cookie jar, but few of them, if any, admitted their wrongdoing, much less apologised, much less resigned. For them, responsibility and accountability are only valid concepts when others are involved, particularly if they come from the other side of the political fence.

It is common to hear politicians accusing their opponents of doing this and the other, and then not look within to see that they are culpable of doing similar things, if not worse. The scandal affecting adversaries is always bigger than the one hitting at home.

Worse than this, people under suspicion have remained in office in spite of serious accusations that were levelled against them. This is something unheard of in democratic countries worldwide, where politicians under the spotlight for their political, sometimes personal, mishaps resign their post and fight to clear their name from the outside. In Malta, this does not happen.

Only this week, in an interview with The Malta Independent, Canadian veteran journalist and journalism lecturer Marc Edge expressed his utter shock that in Malta we do things differently in this regard. For people under suspicion to remain in office is unprecedented in democracies, he said, singling out Malta as the place where anything goes.

Here we have a Prime Minister, a minister and a chief of staff who are the subject of magisterial inquiries, and yet all three still occupy their post.

Suspicions do not make them guilty, but abroad many others have resigned for less serious accusations.