A Sorry State
May. 8th, 2004 07:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
djonnIt has been a strange week for politics here in Oregon -- two different public leaders, Diane Linn and Neil Goldschmidt, have issued public apologies for prior conduct, and the contrasts are -- well, strange.
The chair of the Multnomah County Commission, Diane Linn, has been in hot water in recent months for several notable faux pax -- "secret" salary negotiations with a newly hired library director, rushed and conflicting announcements about whether county workers would be paid for days missed during our epic January snowstorms, and most recently the baroque process whereby she'd implemented the order to grant same-sex marriage licenses.
She has now acknowledged "making mistakes" on all these issues by not providing for or being sensitive to public input, and hopes that (as she's running for re-election) she can win back the trust of her constituents.
Meanwhile, former Portland mayor and Oregon governor Neil Goldschmidt, in response to newly published press reports, has issued a public statement and apology acknowledging a long-past situation involving a physically intimate relationship with a teen-aged babysitter. Citing both the newly published reports and greatly deteriorating health, he's also resigned from posts as chair of the state Higher Education Board and chair of a company seeking to buy one of Oregon's largest utilities.
I'm shocked, of course, at the revelations in the latter case. But I'm fascinated by the juxtaposition of the two apologies -- because for all that Goldschmidt's case represents a far greater moral lapse, his is also the far more sensitive and moral response.
Linn's "apology", at least going by the press reportage, is noteworthy for what it doesn't say or include. She admits making mistakes, and promises to Do Better -- but the words "I'm sorry" are conspicuously absent, as is any true sense of remorse or regret. And yet I don't think she's being insensitive or insincere; I think she genuinely doesn't realize just how badly her approach to governance has damaged her credibility and trustworthiness, or that no amount of good intention justifies this kind of inattention to process.
By contrast, Goldschmidt's actions in the wake of his misbehavior show that he did understand just how badly he'd misstepped. He stopped -- after the one relationship with the one individual, there's no indication that anything of the kind ever happened again in the many years since. He pursued private financial and emotional recompense for the individual he'd been involved with. Faced with public revelation of the matter, he did not waffle, retreat, or attempt to justify himself. Instead, he acknowledged the situation, clearly expressed shame and remorse, and stepped down as gracefully as possible from public positions where his presence might now be a liability rather than an asset.
Judged by actions, Goldschmidt's offense is arguably far more serious. But judged by actions, Goldschmidt's response is also far more mature, and I find myself with far more respect for him than I have for Linn.
(As an aside, I can't help being a trifle puzzled and appalled by the journalistic zeal with which the media broke the Goldschmidt "story". Both he and the victim had long since put the matter behind them, and nothing in Goldschmidt's present-day public policy activities was being colored by the long-ago incident. I am not sure what good it does anyone for the case to be brought before the public eye at this late date.)
The chair of the Multnomah County Commission, Diane Linn, has been in hot water in recent months for several notable faux pax -- "secret" salary negotiations with a newly hired library director, rushed and conflicting announcements about whether county workers would be paid for days missed during our epic January snowstorms, and most recently the baroque process whereby she'd implemented the order to grant same-sex marriage licenses.
She has now acknowledged "making mistakes" on all these issues by not providing for or being sensitive to public input, and hopes that (as she's running for re-election) she can win back the trust of her constituents.
Meanwhile, former Portland mayor and Oregon governor Neil Goldschmidt, in response to newly published press reports, has issued a public statement and apology acknowledging a long-past situation involving a physically intimate relationship with a teen-aged babysitter. Citing both the newly published reports and greatly deteriorating health, he's also resigned from posts as chair of the state Higher Education Board and chair of a company seeking to buy one of Oregon's largest utilities.
I'm shocked, of course, at the revelations in the latter case. But I'm fascinated by the juxtaposition of the two apologies -- because for all that Goldschmidt's case represents a far greater moral lapse, his is also the far more sensitive and moral response.
Linn's "apology", at least going by the press reportage, is noteworthy for what it doesn't say or include. She admits making mistakes, and promises to Do Better -- but the words "I'm sorry" are conspicuously absent, as is any true sense of remorse or regret. And yet I don't think she's being insensitive or insincere; I think she genuinely doesn't realize just how badly her approach to governance has damaged her credibility and trustworthiness, or that no amount of good intention justifies this kind of inattention to process.
By contrast, Goldschmidt's actions in the wake of his misbehavior show that he did understand just how badly he'd misstepped. He stopped -- after the one relationship with the one individual, there's no indication that anything of the kind ever happened again in the many years since. He pursued private financial and emotional recompense for the individual he'd been involved with. Faced with public revelation of the matter, he did not waffle, retreat, or attempt to justify himself. Instead, he acknowledged the situation, clearly expressed shame and remorse, and stepped down as gracefully as possible from public positions where his presence might now be a liability rather than an asset.
Judged by actions, Goldschmidt's offense is arguably far more serious. But judged by actions, Goldschmidt's response is also far more mature, and I find myself with far more respect for him than I have for Linn.
(As an aside, I can't help being a trifle puzzled and appalled by the journalistic zeal with which the media broke the Goldschmidt "story". Both he and the victim had long since put the matter behind them, and nothing in Goldschmidt's present-day public policy activities was being colored by the long-ago incident. I am not sure what good it does anyone for the case to be brought before the public eye at this late date.)
