The plan to create a barbaric cultural practices tip line may have been at once the dumbest and the ugliest moment of the 2015 campaign. If Kellie Leitch, one of its sponsors, now hopes to lead the Conservative Party, she needs to put it behind her.She tried to do just that last Thursday in an interview with Rosemary Barton on CBC's Power and Politics. "I've had a lot of time to think about this since the campaign took place and if I could go back in time...I would change things," Leitch said. "I would not have made that announcement that day."There is little doubt that she has learned a lesson. And she was quite willing to acknowledge her part in the plan. She went on to tell viewers—several times—that she takes responsibility for this fiasco. But what, exactly, is she taking responsibility for?Under questioning from Barton, Leitch explained that while the idea of the tip line was bad, her intentions were good. She wanted to ensure that if women or children needed help, they could pick up the phone and feel assured they would find support on the other end."As minister of status of women I was focused on making sure that we eliminated violence against women and girls, especially making sure we advocated for women's rights." (Conveniently, she had a report on hand about the frightening number of forced marriages in Ontario.)Barton then pressed Leitch on the plan. Why did she agree to an idea with such obvious racial overtones, especially in the midst of a nasty debate over the niqab? Leitch doubled down: "We weren't talking about race, we were talking about kids ... but that message was completely overtaken and I regret that, and I regret that it occurred, and it shouldn't have been done."So, according to Leitch, this was not an attempt to exploit the racial tensions around the niqab debate. On the contrary, her good intentions were sideswiped by that debate and the real message was lost. In effect, she is collateral damage.Not that she sees herself as blameless. In hindsight, she realizes that the tip line was a bad idea and she holds herself responsible for having agreed to it. As she tells it, basically, her sin is to have committed a major political blunder, for which she seems genuinely sorry.Clearly, Leitch also realizes that if she hopes to lead the Conservative Party, she has to clear the air. Not so long ago, her handlers would have counseled her to say as little as possible, but times have changed. Today, authenticity is a prized leadership quality. Standing up to take responsibility for mistakes is a sign of character and an expression of leadership. Hence the interview.The catch, however, is that public confessions like this one succeed only when they are authentic. And on that Leitch's mea culpa is found wanting. Even among Conservatives, the sheer mention of the tip line makes people cringe. Everyone knows it was not the tactical stupidity of the idea that made it egregious, but the ugliness of it.Everyone, that is, except Leitch, who is either oblivious to this side of the story or just unwilling to admit the real nature of her offence. And that, it seems fair to say, is nothing less than complicity in a cultural slur. That is the deed she really needs to atone for.Normally, this starts with an apology. Rather than using the Barton interview to reach out to those she has offended, however, Leitch used it to airbrush the ugly side of the tip line out of the picture and portray her part in it as a bad judgement call.From the interview alone, it is hard to tell whether this is calculated or whether she is genuinely in denial about the significance of these events. But whatever the answer, her performance fixes nothing. Morally speaking, admitting you've done something dumb and admitting you've done something squalid are worlds apart.In the end, her claim to be taking responsibility for her actions only underlines her failure to deal with the elephant in the room. Until she does, there can be no atonement. Without a real confession, there is no act of contrition; and without an act of contrition, there can be no forgiveness.To be fair, admitting the crassness of that moment would have taken great courage. It would also have transformed an insipid story of tactical fumbling into an authentic admission of human failing and the struggle to make amends. And that could have been a genuine leadership moment.Dr. Don Lenihan is Senior Associate, Policy and Engagement, at Canada 2020, Canada's leading, independent progressive think-tank. Don is an internationally recognized expert on democracy and Open Government. He is currently the Government of Ontario's principal advisor on its Open Dialogue Initiative. The views expressed here are those of the columnist alone. Don can be reached at:[email protected] or follow him on Twitter at: @DonLenihan