There are many of ways of not quite apologising, and they all take longer than
the real thing. The real thing needs only one word. “Sorry.” Or if you want
to spin it out, “I'm sorry.”
The moment you start adding words to these, you risk detracting from the force
of the apology. But of course, consciously or otherwise, that's often what
people are trying to do.
I have identified Seven Deadly Sins of non-apology. They are the Off-target,
the Facetious, the Reproachful (you shouldn't be so stupid), the Reproachful
(you shouldn't be so sensitive), the I-didn't-mean-it, the Vicarious and the
Circumlocutory apologies.
Take Russell Brand's insolent attempt to express regret for the answerphone
messages he and Jonathan Ross left on Andrew Sachs's machine: “I'd like to
take this opportunity to issue a personal Russell Brand apology to Andrew
Sachs, the great comic actor who played Manuel, for a message that Jonathan
and I left on his answerphone, but it was quite funny. But, sometimes you
mustn't swear on someone's answerphone and that's why I'd like to apologise
personally.”
If so, he failed. By being facetious he added insult to injury. He also
usefully exemplified the first two of my Seven Deadly Sins of Non-apology.
First the Off-target apology: avoiding the real offence and apologising for
something irrelevant. The language, as Russell Brand well knows, was not the
biggest problem about those calls. If he'd called to say Mr Sachs was
f***ing brilliant the world would not be up in arms today.
Second - and Brand is guilty of this too - is the Facetious apology. Take the
18th-century playwright Richard Sheridan's apology to the Commons for
calling a fellow MP a liar: “Mr Speaker, I said the hon member was a liar it
is true and I am sorry for it. The hon member may place the punctuation
where he pleases.” Or Dennis Skinner MP who, on being ordered to withdraw
his description of David Owen as a “pompous sod”, offered to delete the word
“pompous”.
Next - and very famously - come the third and fourth evasions: two categories
of the Reproachful apology, where the offender expresses regret that upset
was caused, without entirely conceding that anyone ought to have been upset.
The “you shouldn't be so stupid” variety of reproach carries a
half-suggestion that it's actually other people's paranoia or
misunderstanding that is to blame.
George Osborne's recent apology for talking about a donation to a
controversial Russian, on his yacht - “In politics it is not just what you
say or what you do, it's how things look. If I am honest, this didn't look
very good and I regret that. I have changed the way that I am going to
operate when it comes to fundraising, and I will not discuss individual
donations with individual donors. That is an appropriate thing for me to do”
- does go some way to expressing regret, but almost implies that his mistake
was to overlook how (wrongly) mistrusting we all are.
The “you shouldn't be so sensitive” variety of reproach suggests that the
culprit's real mistake has been not to realise what a delicate little flower
the offended party was. Prominent among Boris Johnson's many apologies to
the people of Liverpool was the thought that he'd never have published what
he did if he had realised how thin-skinned Scousers can be on certain
subjects.
Fifth comes the “I didn't mean it” apology. F.W. de Klerk, the former South
African President, spoilt an otherwise perfectly acceptable apology for
apartheid in 1992 with his first sentence: “It was not our intention to
deprive people of their rights and to cause misery, but eventually separate
development and apartheid led to just that. In so far as that occurred, we
deeply regret it. Deep regret goes much further that just saying you are
sorry. Deep regret says that if I could turn the clock back and if I could
do anything about it, I would have liked to have avoided it. Yes, we say we
are sorry.”
Apartheid's injustices were not an unintended consequence of a fine theory,
and to suggest this robbed the apology of some, not all, of its force.
Then - and this really infuriates people - there's the Vicarious apology:
saying sorry for something somebody else did, sometimes a very long time
ago. Politicians and priests are particularly prone to this because it gets
the apologiser cheap kudos without costing him anything. A telltale sign of
an imminent vicarious apology is the tortured appearance of the passive
tense: “Mistakes have been made,” or “Lessons have been learnt,” in place of
that difficult little word “I”. Tony Blair has been good enough to apologise
for the Irish Potato Famine; and in its “Sorry Day” the essentially white
Australian majority apologised for their ancestors having taken the
Aborigines' land from them. They did not offer to give it back.
It is important that the speaker feels a sense of real shame, even if on
behalf of others. Ken Livingstone's apology, as Mayor of London - “As Mayor
I offer an apology on behalf of London and its institutions for their role
in the transatlantic slave trade” - lacks the necessary sense of personal
shame. It is almost accusatory.
Seventh comes the Circumlocutory or roundabout apology. This contains all the
elements of a proper “I'm sorry” without actually including those words.
Like the little boy who won't say sorry to his sister (why are men so much
worse at this than women? Pride?) the speaker just can't make himself spit
them out. Here's the former Defence Secretary Des Browne, an essentially
decent man, not quite pronouncing the S word after a PR gaffe in which
service personnel who had been held captive in Iran were allowed to sell
their stories: “I have expressed a degree of regret that can be equated with
an apology.”
Apologies like most of these can only add to the anger that injured parties
feel, and the contempt felt by the rest of us. The rules for an effective
apology are (1) Be quick: don't wait for it to be dragged out of you; (2) Be
succinct: don't hedge, or qualify, or try to explain; and (3) Be sincere. If
you don't feel sorry, don't pretend to be. Your audience will always know.
The ones who got it right
“I made a bad mistake. It's indefensible and I'm sorry about it.” Bill
Clinton, on the Lewinsky affair (October 1998)
VERDICT Short and to the point.
“I take full responsibility for my actions. I also accept that there are
various personal issues that I need to address and have started taking the
difficult, yet necessary, steps to resolve them. I want to apologise to all
of the people I have let down because of my behaviour.” Kate Moss,
after being filmed taking cocaine (September 2005)
VERDICT Part apology, part Academy Award acceptance.
“This is without doubt the worst moment of my career. I will always regret my
actions during last night's game. I have apologised to the England players
and management and I want every England supporter to know how deeply sorry I
am.” David Beckham after being sent off at the 1998 World Cup,
which contributed to England's defeat to Argentina (July 1998).
VERDICT What more could he have said? No wonder he's nicknamed Golden Balls.
“I want to apologise to my fans for screwing up again, and to promise them
I'll sort myself out. And to say sorry to everybody else, just for boring
them.” George Michael, after he was arrested in a public toilet
in Hampstead, North London, in possession of crack cocaine and cannabis
(September 2008).
VERDICT The perfect way to handle a we've-been-here-before apology.
“Richard and I were very shocked and also angry on your behalf. We're very
sorry.” TV host Judy Finnigan apologising to viewers over
claims that callers were told to phone a premium-rate competition number
even after contestants had been chosen (February 2007).
VERDICT Not pointing the finger of blame, not admitting to any
responsibility, siding with the aggrieved. Clever.
“Believe me, I never made any proposals of marriage to anyone. Therefore
forgive me, I beg you, and accept this public apology that I yield to your
anger as an act of love. One of many. A big kiss. Silvio.” Silvio
Berlusconi, to his wife Veronica Lario after she accused the Italian
Prime Minister of flirting with other women (February 2007).
VERDICT Clearly not his first, and somewhat oleaginous, but Silvio gets away
with it (as usual).
“I acted like a person completely out of control when I was arrested, and said
things that I do not believe to be true and which are despicable. I am
deeply ashamed of everything I said. Also, I take this opportunity to
apologise to the deputies involved for my belligerent behaviour. They have
always been there for me in my community and indeed probably saved me from
myself.” Mel Gibson on his barrage of abuse after being
arrested for drink driving (July 2006).
VERDICT Fantastic deviation. He's so busy supporting local causes that we've
almost overlooked his anti-Semitic remarks. Almost.
The ones who got it wrong
“I am heartsick about my personal legal situation and deeply sorry for the
pain and difficulties it has caused our employees.” Martha Stewart,
after being found guilty of share trading (March 2004).
VERDICT Is she apologising, or just regretting the fact she's been banged up?
“We all make mistakes, we all do things we regret. I hope in the end people
will be kind enough to balance the good against the bad.” Jeffrey
Archer, on his past behaviour (Nov 2005).
VERDICT He might as well have said: “I do a lot for a charity.”
“I regret deeply any injuries that may have been done in the course of the
events that led to this decision. I would say only that if some of my
judgments were wrong, and some were wrong, they were made in what I believed
at the time to be the best interest of the nation.” Richard Nixon,
resigning as US President (August 1974).
VERDICT Best interests of the nation, or himself?
“The evidence about Saddam having actual biological and chemical weapons, as
opposed to the capability to develop them, has turned out to be wrong. I
acknowledge that and accept it. I can apologise for the information that
turned out to be wrong, but I can't, sincerely at least, apologise for
removing Saddam.” Tony Blair, on the Iraq dossier (September
2004).
VERDICT Note: he could apologise but he doesn't actually do it.
“I will bigly, hugely admit that I was wrong, and I will apologise to Michael
J. Fox if I am wrong in characterising his behaviour on this commercial as
an act.” Rush Limbaugh, on confronting Michael J. Fox for
“exaggerating the effects of Parkinson's disease” (October 2006).
VERDICT Where do we start? Wrong on every level.
“In a life as busy and varied as mine, you make good judgments and bad
judgments.” Jonathan Aitken, over his failure to disclose a
secret Arab stake in the breakfast station TV-am (June 1997).
VERDICT And there we were thinking he was immoral, when all along he was just
trying to juggle his diary.
“I do apologise but I don't regret my behaviour because regretting it would
mean he was right to say what he said.” Zinédine Zidane,
on headbutting Italy defender Marco Materazzi in the World Cup final (July
2006).
VERDICT We empathise, we really do. But attacking an opponent is not
excusable, even when he insults your mother.
“The Duke of Edinburgh regrets any offence which may have been caused by
remarks he is reported as making earlier today. With hindsight, he accepts
what were intended as light-hearted comments were inappropriate.” Buckingham
Palace, on Prince Philip saying a fuse box looked “as though it was put
in by an Indian” (August 1999).
VERDICT Apologising by proxy never works.
“Look, I regret the remark. It was in a light banter. She did a remarkable
job.” John Prescott, on telling a TV show he didn't like Cherie
Blair (October 2008).
VERDICT Prezzer tries the Russell Brand “It was only a joke” tactic, to
similar effect.
... And then there's Boris
“In so far as it imposed an outdated stereotype on the whole of Liverpool, and
thereby caused offence, I sincerely apologise.” Boris Johnson,
in an open letter to the Liverpool Echo, in 2004, after writing a leader in
The Spectator saying that Liverpudlians were “hooked on grief”. Michael
Howard, the Conservative leader at the time, sent Johnson to the city to
make a personal apology.
“I am very sorry this decision has been taken in response to tabloid stories
about my private life.” Boris, after being sacked from the
front bench by Michael Howard, the Conservative leader, in 2004 after it
emerged that stories of his affair with a journalist - denied by Johnson as
“an inverted pyramid of piffle” - were not piffle at all.
“I meant no insult to the people of Papua New Guinea, who I'm sure lead lives
of blameless bourgeois domesticity ... My remarks were inspired by a Time
Life book I have which does indeed show relatively recent photos of Papua
New Guinean tribes engaged in warfare, and I'm fairly certain that
cannibalism was involved.” Boris, after referring to “Papua New
Guinea-style orgies of cannibalism and chief-killing” in 2006.
“I do feel very sad that people have been so offended by these words and I'm
sorry that I've caused this offence. But if you look at the article as
written they really do not bear the construction that you're putting on
them. I feel very strongly that this is something which is simply not in my
heart. I'm absolutely 100 per cent anti-racist, I despise and loathe
racism.” Boris, in July, on referring to black people as
“piccaninnies” and referring to “watermelon smiles” in a column written six
years ago.
