The whole psychology of the apology is interesting to me. Why people do it, why they don’t (duh), HOW people do it, how they mess it up, how to do it right. I’ve talked about this a lot on the blog in the past. I tend to think the apology as a social convention and spiritual necessity is on its way out. People generally think they’re right at all times. I understand that. I generally think I’m right at all times. And because we generally think we’re right at all times, we don’t want to apologize because that would mean we’re actually admitting we’re wrong and then what oh what will happen to our view of ourselves that we are generally right at all times? It messes with our head. But the extent to which it messes with our heads is tied, I think, to just how much our sense of self is invested in believing we are right at all times. The greater we’re defined by our own “rightness,” the more likely we are to feel diminished by an apology and, therefore, the less likely we are to actually apologize. Or the more likely we are to offer a non-apology apology which gives the illusion of hitting the mark but is really a psychological sleight of hand.
I’m about to copy and paste my own final comment in the now-infamous “Kevin” thread, which makes me look both needy and self-important and, well, I have to plead mea culpa on that. Whatevs. But I want to talk about an “apology” he gave at one point in that …. discussion? diatribe? harangue? Whatever that whole dealio actually was. I may look like I’m throwing him under the bus, but Kevin basically threw himself under the bus with no assist from me or anyone else. I’ve banned him now — if it actually worked, since I think he’s at least occasionally using an anonymous proxy to surf the Net — and he won’t be commenting here again, so I think it’s safe to discuss this as a case study, so to speak. I made the choice to ban him because I don’t want to have the kind of blog I think Kevin WANTS me to have. I don’t want to come on my blog and argue in the round every stinkin’ day. That’s just not who I am. Some people like that, are even energized by it. Not me. I just get dizzy and nauseous after a while.
Here’s what I said in my last comment on that thread. (Oh, and sarahk weighed in with a great comment at the very end.)
You know ….. another thing that’s stuck in my craw over this is what I call Kevin’s non-apology apology. (I’ve talked about the non-apology apology before on the blog.)
Way up in comment #29, Kevin said:
/Tracey, I’m sorry if my comment came across as condescending./
See that? The dropping of the “if†bomb in that “apology� No. That’s not an actual apology. An apology is taking sincere, honest ownership of what you said or did and not qualifying it IN ANY WAY. The ever-popular “IF†Bomb apology is a way to sound as if you’re apologizing when you’re really not. That one little word — if — does a huge thing: creates a sliver of possibility that, no, the offender DIDN’T really do or say the thing that you’re offended about. And, yes, it’s a sliver of qualification, but that’s HUGE in an apology. A person who does that isn’t taking ownership. He’s saying, subtly, “It’s YOUR problem that you perceived it that way.†He’s saying, “Maybe I did that, but MAYBE I DIDN’T.†It’s not a true humble apology. It’s BS and I call it.
Kevin had numerous people calling him on his condescension and contemptuous tone. He offered his If Bomb, his non-apology apology, and THEN CONTINUED TO BE CONDESCENDING AND CONTEMPTUOUS while all the while claiming moral superiority to the rest of us. “I’ve kept my cool.†“I haven’t returned insults.†Or whatever. Well, yes, he did, as I’ve already said earlier in this thread.
But if a person apologizes and is genuinely sorry, he turns away from the behavior that created the offense in the first place. What Kevin did would be like a husband who apologizes to his wife for being drunk on Wednesday night — while he’s drunk on Thursday night. In dropping that If Bomb, though, he gave himself permission to continue his bad behavior because maybe it’s a perception problem of, oh, a half a dozen people or more. Maybe it’s THEIR problem, not his. If If IF.
Gimme a break. That’s meaningless. A gloss-over. A knee-jerk thing to say that you really don’t mean. And it’s definitely NOT an apology.
So clearly, I was ramped up or on the sauce again or, most likely, both.
This is not a unique example. We’ve all received and/or offered these kinds of apologies ourselves. I mention it as an example of a common practice, not to point out Kevin as a unique offender. He’s not.
Sometimes that “if” will placate the offended or wronged person; sometimes, it won’t, but it’s definitely a useful — and cowardly — tool to make it look as if you’re humble and sorry, as if you rillyrilly care. At the core, it’s a deflection, a way to boomerang the whole issue back into the face of the offended, leaving them wondering, “Hm. Did I overreact?”
I don’t write about this thinking that I’ve got the whole apology thing nailed down because I don’t. It’s HARD to apologize. It is. I guess at this point in my life, for the sake of personal and spiritual growth, actually, I force myself to look at criticisms I receive and ask if there’s any truth in them, anything I need to own, no matter from whom they come (Doc, anyone?) and no matter how they’re phrased. And, yamahaha, Crackie, is it painful. It IS. Since I’m generally sure I’m right, I’m always feel as if I’m going to DIE when I sit down with a criticism and force myself to consider it. At that moment, I’m certain just the act of entertaining these less than pro-me thoughts will shrivel my pro-me brain into a useless tiny raisin rolling around in my head, killing me as swiftly as touching a live wire. Basically, it sucks. If I look at it as something I’m doing for me, though, something to keep me from becoming hard and calcified and bitter, then it hurts a tiny bit less. A very tiny bit less. When it’s an issue regarding a loved one, I try to ask myself, “Do I want a relationship or do I want to be right?” If I present it to myself that way — because, yes, I have to sneak up on myself — it’s an easy choice. A tiny bit easier choice.
Apologizing — really doing it — keeps us in touch with our own humanity. Our own frailties. That we can and do screw up. It acknowledges, too, the humanity of the person we’ve wronged or offended. Done wholeheartedly, it’s a weird but wonderful way to bind us together in the messiness of the human stew. Both parties find relief in the transaction when it’s sincerely given and sincerely received. Both parties are “seen.”
I don’t want to become numb to my own humanity. I don’t want to become numb to the humanity of others. If I can’t apologize or equivocate when and if I even do apologize, I’m already becoming that drone, emotionally numb and spiritually calloused, too captivated by my rightness to give a tiny rat’s bottom about anyone else.
And I don’t want to live my life gazing at the reflection of my own perceived rightness.
Because … how lonely is that?