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Davis apology turns into defiant attack Though he made a bow to an occasional shortcoming, the governor wasn't apologizing. In fact, he showed a wealth of audacity: A man who has governed from the center is moving to the left to defend his political life. And a governor who claimed to take responsibility ended up blaming factors beyond his control. While he showed an occasional flash of humanity, Davis' speech had the hallmarks of a laboriously crafted ad. If you can imagine George Washington explaining that he chopped down the cherry tree to save it from a disease spread by enemies of American horticulture, you get the picture. There was little about the governor's rhetoric or his tightly rehearsed body language -- the clenched fist, the touch to the heart, the goofy smile -- to ignite anyone's enthusiasm. Does it matter that Gray Davis isn't Harry Truman? Well, yes. The question for voters is whether Davis is a sufficiently compelling figure to defend when they've got a far broader menu of choices than usual. Gray Davis has advanced his career by being the lesser of evils, the guy you vote for because you loathe his opponent. But in a recall election with 135 candidates, that dynamic doesn't apply. And that's why the bar has been raised for the governor. That comes back, at least partly, to the question of humanity, of acknowledging fault. Had the governor been more candid, it wouldn't have been without precedent. When ex-Massachusetts Gov. Bill Weld ran into tax problems several years ago, he deflected criticism by saying he made a mistake and was sorry. But Davis faces a far more devilish problem than Weld did then. In the speech of his political life, he had to explain his record, not an impulsive mistake of the moment. ``In politics, successful apologies have been for a lapse of judgment. You can't really apologize for performance,'' says Jude Barry, the CEO of Catapult Strategies, a San Jose public relations firm. Davis' plight is doubly treacherous because he has rarely -- if ever -- committed an impulsive act. Virtually everything the governor has done has been the subject of intensive focus groups or polling. So while he acknowledged that people thought him slow to act on the energy crisis, he immediately turned the rhetoric his way, pointing out that in California ``not a single light has gone out for the last two and a half years.'' (Never mind that this is manifestly untrue: But the blackouts have been isolated, often weather-related.) In a word, Davis took a tack truer to his history, defiantly attacking his enemies rather than confessing his own flaws. By doing so, he subtly reaffirmed his reputation as the state's premiere gut-fighter. But he failed the humanity test. Yes, he said the right things: He confessed that he could have been tougher in holding the line on spending when the state had big surpluses. His body language, though, didn't convince anyone he was sorry. It said only that he was nervous. You can make the case that Californians got exactly what they deserve in Gray Davis: a calculating politician who rarely takes chances and shows exceptional skill in attacking foes. Still, no one forced Davis to become governor. What he really should apologize for goes well beyond the tiny circle of flaws he acknowledged.
Gray Davis should apologize for spending so much time raising money. He should apologize for treating legislators like pond scum. He should apologize for attacks on Dick Riordan and Dianne Feinstein. And
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