Sorry, I don’t know.
‘Sorry’—that’s one of two expressions Canadians are known for. The other is ‘eh.’
Is this a fact, archetype, or stereotype? I don’t know.
But what I know is since moving to Canada, I’ve become more willing to admit guilt publicly. Maybe that’s down to sheer maturity? Or perhaps, it’s a habit I’ve picked up from fellow Canadians? I don’t know.
But what I know is apologies are, in many ways, an admission of guilt. And recently, I’ve noticed a pattern of political, religious, and community leaders not apologizing—presumably because they don’t want to be held fully accountable or admit their guilt publicly. Why? I’m not sure.
But what I know is Pope Francis stopped short of apologizing to the Canadian Indigenous community in his speech addressing the recent discovery of the remains of 215 Indigenous children on the grounds of a Catholic-run residential school in Kamloops, BC.
I also know that twice this year, French President, Emmanuel Macron, didn’t issue an official apology for abuses and violence committed by France during her colonization of Algeria and reckless nuclear tests in the French Polynesian region. But both times, he recognized that there were wrongdoings.
I’ve also watched Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau refuse to apologize for two political assignments that ended poorly in the past year.
And, of course, we know of at least one orange-haired former American president who did all but apologize for anything while he was in office.
The art of a sincere and heartfelt apology is one of the greatest skills you will ever learn.
So, what’s the deal with these leaders and apologies?
Why do they shy away from admitting guilt even when it’s crystal clear where the responsibility lies? Why do we even expect an apology when the court of public opinion has already passed its judgment before these leaders uttered a word in their defense? I don’t know.
But what I know is since I’ve become more willing to admit guilt openly, I have somehow mastered the art of apology, and sometimes, I apologize meaninglessly and insincerely.
I once called out a leader for their wrongdoing. And their assistant advised me to apologize. I did, but I didn’t mean a word of that apology. Immediately, I said the word ‘Sorry,’ I regretted it.
At that moment, I realized my apology meant nothing and served no true purpose. It was unloving and insincere to the person I apologized to, and it was unloving and demeaning to me.
Instead, it was a mere bandage to cover the bruises on that leader’s ego. And in the years since, I’ve wondered if it’s better to apologize only when I mean it and not just to keep the peace. Maybe. I don’t know.
But what I think is if those political, religious, and community leaders did not apologize, it’s probably because they didn’t mean it. And, of course, that says a lot about their worldview, but it is their worldview.
My apology meant nothing and served no true purpose. It was unloving and insincere to the person I apologized to, and it was unloving and demeaning to me.
And on the flip side, I’ve wondered if these leaders’ apologies would make any real difference. Maybe their conversations about and actions towards reconciliation are better indications of where their hearts are. I don’t know.
Is it better to have sincere conversations than just gloss it all up with a seemingly meaningless apology? Should we put more effort into understanding each other than on apologies? I don’t know.
But here’s what I know: my parents taught me how to say and use the words ‘Please,’ ‘Thank you,’ and ‘Sorry.’ They taught me how to be courteous, polite, and civil. They taught me how to keep the peace.
As an adult, I know how to say these words and be these things but I’m not great at them. I want to keep the peace, but I don’t know how to do it meaningfully.
So, instead of shying away completely from apologies or saying them too often, I’m learning how to say and use them meaningfully.
After all, life’s all about saying and doing the right things at the right time, eh?
I’m sorry for the long letter—or am I?
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