“I Take Full Responsibility” Means “I Take No Responsibility”

It used to be that when politicians were discovered to have done something inappropriate, they resigned, or as the quaint expression put it, they “fell on their sword.”

No longer.

We live in an era when politicians, or any of us, who do something terribly wrong can utter the magic phrase, “I take full responsibility for my actions.” Then they wait to see if the PR hubbub goes away. And if it does, that’s the end of it, and they go on with their careers, secure in the knowledge that they got away with it, and they’ll get away with whatever they do next, too.

That’s what’s happening right now in Virginia, where one politician may or may not have worn a Ku Klux Klan outfit for his medical school yearbook photo, another may or may not have forced one or more women to perform a sex act, and a third actually admitted that he wore brown makeup to look like Michael Jackson at a college event.

The astonishing defense that one of them put forth was that “back then, people did that kind of thing.”

Excuse me, but I come from “back then.” I’m roughly the same age as the Governor of Virginia, who first admitted, and then later denied, that he was in the infamous photo dressed as a Klansman.

What’s the common thread that these individuals are putting forth?

You guessed it.

They take full responsibility for their actions.

They’re not admitting that they took those actions. They’re just taking full responsibility.

Which, of course, means nothing.

Or more specifically, it means, “Can we please stop talking about this and move on to something else? I like my job.”

I once had a ghostwriting client who broke down the word “responsibility” in a unique way — he said it meant “the ability to respond.” In other words, a person who is responsible is response-able.

The Virginians seem unable to respond in an appropriate manner, which would be, of course, to resign.

They aren’t able to do that because of the all-too-human need to “want it both ways.”

They want to appear chastened, saddened, and virtuous, even though the actions of which they are accused disqualify them from public life.

The strategy of “taking full responsibility” and then hanging on, like a rodeo rider, trying to get through their eight seconds of misery, is clearly their survival strategy.

There’s dignity in taking real responsibility for one’s actions.

There’s humanity in that.

But the message we send our fellow citizens, that we “take full responsibility,” when we, and our PR firms, are doing everything we can to disavow any responsibility, is less than ideal.

I don’t live in Virginia, so it’s really up to the citizens of that great Commonwealth to determine just how much responsibility they want their elected officials to take.

But it sure would be neat if someone, anyone, in the public space could say, “I take full responsibility,” and actually mean it.