The Art of Apology
To be frank, I hate making apologies. I’d rather eat a toad. But apologies are an essential element of communication and of life.
Apologies are funny things. There is no simple formula. Each one has to be tailored from whole cloth and made exactly for the occasion. If there is to be an error in the measurement, a little too big is better than a little too small.
Of the too-small apology, G. K. Chesterton said, “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.” And therein is the secret.
Insults and affronts are like most other genres of communication– they’re not about data transmission, they’re about feelings. Even if my statement may be factually accurate, if it is made is such a way that you feel degraded or slurred, I have hurt you. Walking it only part way back will not assuage the hurt you feel. Anything less than fulsome will be taken, as Chesterton tells us, as a second insult.
Unless it is your intent to wound again, a “stiff apology” is better left unsaid. “I’m really sorry you took my words the wrong way” simply twists the knife, casting the blame for the hurt on the listener.
To say “I had no intention of hurting you, but I can see that my words caused you pain, and I am so sorry” is honest, and recognizes the genuineness of the listener’s hurt.
Apologies can’t undo history– words once spoken cannot be unsaid. But a heartfelt apology can restore a wounded relationship.
Communication, after all, is always more about the heart than it is about the intellect.
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