The modern apology is a curious thing. Done right, it would seem, it need not actually say sorry for anything. Those in public life routinely declare themselves “responsible” or “accountable”. Some even seek to make a fine distinction between the two. What you’ll see rather less often is a public act of contrition, saying that one is unreservedly, wholeheartedly sorry for having done A Bad Thing.
The most skilful will shift the blame not just elsewhere but actually on to those who have been wronged. People who have offended someone no longer apologise for it, but instead express regret that the target was offended, as if in fact it is the hearer who is at fault.
So it is with banking, perhaps the deepest and darkest lair of the half-hearted apologist. This week we heard two apologies, one of which lacked the essential quality of contrition, and both of which were instructive about Barclays and the industry to which it belongs.
The first came from Marcus Agius, the firm’s chairman, who resigned on Monday and was reinstated on Tuesday once CEO Bob Diamond had been persuaded by the Bank of England that the buck stopped with him after all.
But even though he conceded that standards of behaviour had been unacceptable, Agius did not resign because of wrongdoing within Barclays. It was the “devastating blow” to Barclays’ reputation that meant he had to stand aside, he said. He did at least recognise the value of the word "sorry", however, saying that he was truly sorry that the bank's customers, employees and shareholders had been let down.
Twenty-four hours later and he’s back, now helping to co-ordinate the search for a replacement for Diamond — another who appears to have been pushed out not by what was done at the bank, perish the thought, but by “the impression created” by recent events.
His statement is so badly worded that he actually ends up telling us he is disappointed that this “impression” is not true — which is presumably the opposite of what he meant to say. “...disappointed because...” would have worked. But not to worry: the important point to note is that nothing has been his fault. He persists in his belief that what has been uncovered is a series of rogue happenings rather than the systemic and routine malpractice that it has been shown to be.
Agius can perhaps be forgiven for feeling like the fall guy — because that’s what he was. He certainly is, as he said, the ultimate “guardian of the firm’s reputation”. But as to being the guardian of the culture of the firm’s investment bank, that buck unquestionably stops with Diamond. He claimed last week that nothing was more important than building a strong culture. Given the astoundingly routine way in which his traders viewed the requests they were making to the firm’s Libor submitters, he has catastrophically failed in this ambition.
As a reader of the public mood, he has shown himself to be monumentally incompetent. The idiocy of his “period of remorse” tirade back in January last year was breathtaking. His apparent belief that removing himself for consideration for this year’s performance-related bonus would put an end to the Libor matter shows a lack of awareness remarkable even for a man not often noted for his common touch.
Given the industry in which he has worked and his level of seniority within it, it is perhaps not surprising that he — and others in similar positions — should find it difficult to understand why people care about apologies and how they are done. A refusal to accept reality in order to soften the blow to one’s reputation usually ends up making things worse. Witness Barclays’ attempts, by its own admission, to protect its image by massaging its Libor submissions during the worst crisis period: these have now backfired in the most spectacular way.
The horrible irony of that particular matter is that Barclays was at the time passionately arguing that its own high submissions were a better reflection of the market than those of its rivals — and it was probably right.
So here’s a tip: when you think you’re doing the right thing, carry on doing it. In the long run, that will probably have a better effect on your reputation than the alternative.
Diamond’s bleating about “external pressure” will resonate with very few, other than perhaps those of his peers at other firms who might be for the chop next. It certainly ignores the fact that his downfall is of his and his firm’s own making.
By failing to face up to this inconvenient truth, Diamond has irreparably damaged what legacy he might have had. Rather than being remembered as the driving force of one of the most successful investment banks in the world, he will instead go down as the man who, even as he was forced out, still didn’t get it.