In general, politicians apologize because they get caught. They don’t come forward, unprompted, with sudden pangs of conscience. They don’t go before the cameras, bleary-eyed and haunted, to acknowledge sleepless nights and uneasy dreams for some past wrong. They may have a Hamlet complex (indecisiveness) or a Lear complex (insecurity) but they almost never have a Macbeth complex (guilt).

This is, in part, what makes the public political apology, such as incoming Senate majority leader Trent Lott has been issuing like scrip for the past few days, such compelling spectacle. Because everyone knows that apologies are almost always wrung out reluctantly — or qualified with excuses or patently insincere — the public, for a brief moment, has the upper hand. The public makes the man dance, not for his soul but his future. Washington Post op-ed

President Decries Lott’s Comments:

Speaking to a largely black audience here at an event meant to highlight Bush’s “compassionate conservative” agenda, Bush surprised listeners with the rare condemnation of a congressional leader from his own party. The remarks, part of a call for racial fairness, drew loud applause. Washington Post

Howard Kurtz: Not a Whole Lotta Love:

George Bush had the chance to throw Trent Lott a lifeline. Instead, with a strong condemnation of Lott’s “offensive” remarks, Bush squirted grease under the senator’s shaky footing.

(…) What Bush did, in publicly rapping Lott’s knuckles, was morally sound and politically smart, both for himself and his party. He could have just had Ari keep on making bland statements. But in the chemical chain reaction in which Washington’s wise men divined just a day or two ago that Lott’s job wasn’t in serious jeopardy, a few electrons shifted, and the new equation was that his fate might be spinning out of control. Washington Post