Saturday, May 21, 2011

The "If" Word

“A stiff apology is a second insult.... The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt.”
-G.K. Chesterton

Last week I read of another public figure who began his feeble attempt at an apology for bad behavior with the phrase, “If I offended anyone…” This is what Chesterton would call a “stiff apology.” I would call it insincere.

I could simply explain this as another narcissistic famous person being too full of himself to spontaneously practice humility. He drew some heat for his poor choice of words, and was apologizing because his manager or publicist told him to. I think my analysis is probably true, but there’s more to it than this…the issue goes deeper. Because the struggle to offer a real apology is not a famous person issue, it is a human being issue; mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and foes.

“If I offended anyone…”, “If my words hurt you…”, “If you took it that way…”

When it comes to apologizing, the “if” word is a really bad word.

A sincere apology is a rare thing indeed; no “ifs”, no “ands”, and no “buts”. Why is this? I think the answer involves several issues, including immaturity, fear, pride, and indifference. But I’m most interested in what it says about how one sees relationships.

Transactional. Conditional. Quid pro quo. “This for that”; I’ll give you an apology because the consequence might cost me something. You might get angry with me, you might try and hurt me back, you might hassle me with more of your boring feelings.

So, I’ll offer something that sounds polite and hopefully that will cover the “damages.” Yes, it is very general, and it needs to be. Specifics challenge me to reflect on what I’ve done, and what I need to take responsibility for. And I’m as disinterested in exploring my motives as I am in empathizing with your feelings.

“Why” takes time. “Why” takes energy. “Why” asks me to be vulnerable.

A lousy apology, one that comes from the head and not the heart and is grounded in pride and not humility, does nothing to help heal the wound my words or deeds have caused. In fact, it makes matters worse. My lack of genuine care and interest in the relationship is made even more obvious. In the end (and probably in the beginning and middle, too) it is still about me and my feelings, not you and yours.

Everyone makes mistakes. This is human, and understandable. But I can’t be forgiven if I don’t really think I need to be, and don’t really ask to be. And I can’t be trusted either.