By Aaron Lazare
Apologies can restore relationships--but there's a right way and a wrong way to do them.
We tend to view apologies as a sign of
weak character. But in fact, they require great strength. And we
better learn how to get them right, because it's increasingly hard
to live in the global village without them. A genuine apology
offered and accepted is one of the most profound interactions of
civilized people. It has the power to restore damaged relationships,
be they on a small scale, between two people, such as intimates, or
on a grand scale, between groups of people, even nations. If done
correctly, an apology can heal humiliation and generate forgiveness.
Yet,
even though it's such a powerful social skill, we give precious
little thought to teaching our children how to apologize. Most of us
never learned very well ourselves. Despite its importance,
apologizing is antithetical to the ever-pervasive values of winning,
success, and perfection. The successful apology requires empathy
and the security and strength to admit fault, failure, and weakness.
But we are so busy winning that we can't concede our own mistakes. The botched apology--the apology intended but not delivered, or
delivered but not accepted--has serious social consequences. Failed
apologies can strain relationships beyond repair or, worse, create
life-long grudges and bitter vengeance.
As a psychiatrist who
has studied shame and humiliation for eight years, I became
interested in apology for its healing nature. I am perpetually
amazed by how many of my friends and patients--regardless of
ethnicity or social class--have long-standing grudges that have cut a
destructive swath through their own lives and the lives of family and
friends. So many of their grudges could have been avoided altogether
or been reconciled with a genuine apology. In my search to
learn more about apologies, I have found surprisingly little in the
professional literature. The scant research I've unearthed is mostly
in linguistics and sociology, but little or nothing touches on the
expectations or need for apologies, their meaning to the offender
and offended, and the implications of their failure.
Religious
writings, however, in both Christian and Jewish traditions, are a
rich source of wisdom on the subject, under such headings as
absolution, atonement, forgiveness, penance, and repentance. The
Talmud, in fact, declares that God created repentance before he
created the universe. He wisely knew humans would make a lot of mistakes
and have a lot of apologizing to do along the way.
No doubt
the most compelling and common reason to apologize is over a
personal offense. Whether we've ignored, belittled, betrayed, or
publicly humiliated someone, the common denominator of any personal
offense is that we've diminished or injured a person's self-concept. The
self-concept is our story about ourselves. It's our thoughts and
feelings about who we are, how we would like to be, and how we would
like to be perceived by others.
If you think of yourself
first and foremost as a competent, highly valued professional and
are asked tomorrow by your boss to move into a cramped windowless
office, you would likely be personally offended. You might be
insulted and feel hurt or humiliated. No matter whether the
interpersonal wound is delivered in a professional, family, or social
setting, its depth is determined by the meaning the event carries to
the offended party, the relationship between offender and offended,
and the vulnerability of the offended to take things personally.
No-shows
at family funerals, disputes over wills, betrayals of
trust--whether in love or friendship--are situations ripe for wounds to
the self-concept. Events of that magnitude put our self-worth on the
line, more so for the thin-skinned. Other events people experience
as personal offenses include being ignored, treated unfairly,
embarrassed by someone else's behavior, publicly humiliated, and
having one's cherished beliefs denigrated.
So the personal
offense has been made, the blow to the self-concept landed, and an
apology is demanded or expected. Why bother? I count four basic
motives for apologizing:
- The first is to salvage or restore the relationship. Whether you've hurt someone you love, enjoy, or just plain need as your ally in an office situation, an apology may well rekindle the troubled relationship.
- You may have purely empathic reasons for apologizing. You regret that you have caused someone to suffer and you apologize to diminish or end their pain.
The last two motives are not so lofty:
- Some people apologize simply to escape punishment, such as the criminal who apologizes to his victim in exchange for a lesser plea.
- Others apologize simply to relieve themselves of a guilty conscience. They feel so ashamed of what they did that, even though it may not have bothered you that much, they apologize profusely. A long letter explaining why the offender was a half hour late to dinner would be such an occasion. And in so doing, they are trying to maintain some self-respect, because they are nurturing an image of themselves in which the offense, lack of promptness, violates some basic self-concept
Whatever the motive, what makes an apology work is the exchange
of shame and power between the offender and the offended. By
apologizing, you take the shame of your offense and redirect it to
yourself. You admit to hurting or diminishing someone and, in
effect, say that you are really the one who is diminished--I'm the
one who was wrong, mistaken, insensitive, or stupid. In
acknowledging your shame you give the offended the power to forgive.
The exchange is at the heart of the healing process.
ANATOMY OF AN APOLOGY
But
in practice, it's not as easy as it sounds. There's a right way and
a wrong way to apologize. There are several integral elements of any
apology and unless they are accounted for, an apology is likely to
fail.
First, you have to acknowledge that a moral norm or an
understanding of a relationship was violated, and you have to accept
responsibility for it. You must name the offense--no glossing over in
generalities like, "I'm sorry for what I have done." To be a
success, the apology has to be specific--"I betrayed you by talking
behind your back" or "I missed your daughter's wedding."
You
also have to show you understand the nature of your wrongdoing and
the impact it had on the person--"I know I hurt you and I am so very
sorry."
This is one of the most unifying elements of the apology. By
acknowledging that a moral norm was violated, both parties affirm a
similar set of values. The apology reestablishes a common moral
ground.
The second ingredient to a successful apology is an
explanation for why you committed the offense in the first place. An
effective explanation makes the point that what you did isn't
representative of who you are. You may offer that you were tired,
sick, drunk, distracted, or in love--and that it will not happen
again. Such an explanation protects your self-concept.
A
recent incident widely reported in the news provides an excellent,
if painful, illustration of the role of an apology in protecting the
offender's self-concept. An American sailor apologized at his
court-martial for brutally beating to death a homosexual shipmate: "I
can't apologize enough for my actions. I am not trying to make any
excuses for what happened that night. It was horrible, but I am not a
horrible person."
Another vital part of the explanation is to
communicate that your behavior wasn't intended as a personal
affront. This lets the offended person know that he should feel safe
with you now and in the future.
A good apology also has to
make you suffer. You have to express genuine, soul-searching regret
for your apology to be taken as sincere. Unless you communicate
guilt, anxiety, and shame, people are going to question the depth of
your remorse. The anxiety and sadness demonstrate that the
potential loss of the relationship matters to you. Guilt tells the
offended person that you're distressed over hurting him. And shame
communicates your disappointment with yourself over the incident.
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