We're using apologies to cancel people, and that's a problem

“Sorry! Your apology isn’t good enough!”

It’s amazing how often I see that sentiment these days. A celebrity or public figure says something offensive to someone, then issues a statement of regret.

At that point, everyone pounces. It’s easier to “cancel” them, to throw them on the trash heap, than it is to consider the possibility that they might be truly sorry and seeking to make amends.

Justin Timberlake, Joe Rogan, Awkwafina, and a host of others have issued apologies that have been dissected, ridiculed, and condemned over the years. This isn’t a commentary on any one of them. It’s an indictment of the apparent desire to think the worst of people when they apologize — especially celebrities, whom we’ve put on a pedestal; but as the fickle fans we are, we want an excuse to knock them down a few pegs, to see them fail, to let them know WE’RE the ones in charge.

Those who sit in judgment are like vultures circling, waiting for dead meat to devour. An apology is their cue to descend.

To them, a simple, “I’m sorry,” it’s never enough. They’ll tell you that you’re just apologizing to brush the issue aside or under the rug. But don’t you dare say any more, or you’ll be accused of watering things down, making excuses, or deflecting responsibility... even if you aren’t doing any of those things. If you express too much shame, you’ll be accused of making it about yourself. If you express too little, you’ll be accused of not understanding how your actions have hurt someone else.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m all in favor of apologizing, of owning your actions. But when an apology becomes a minefield, there can be less incentive to navigate it.

To be clear: You shouldn’t be apologizing to make yourself feel better. Apologies aren’t meant to assuage a guilty conscience. They’re meant to acknowledge a mistake, express remorse, and show a willingness to change. The goal is to mend fences and heal wounds. So if it’s apparent from the outset that an apology won’t accomplish that goal, there’s less incentive to provide one. In fact, some people have become so disenchanted with the futility of public apologies that they’ve decided they just aren’t worth it.

Prejudice and dissonance

Admittedly, an apology won’t always be enough; follow-up actions may be needed to demonstrate sincerity. And in some cases, feelings may be too badly hurt for even the sincerest apology to provide healing.

That’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about people who make up their minds ahead of time that they won’t even consider any apology — and, worse, that they’re ready to pounce on any apology that’s offered as a way to condemn you further.

Because here’s the shocking truth: They’re HAPPY that you failed.

If this seems absurd, think about the benefits of NOT accepting an apology. First, it keeps the person who refuses to do so in a position of power. Donald Trump often says those who apologize are weak. There’s a reason for this. But it’s not a problem with the apology; it’s an indictment of those who refuse to accept it.

Whenever someone spurns an apology in order to retain a position of power (consciously or unconsciously), they rob others of any incentive to apologize. In fact, they provide an incentive not to: Who wants to give someone power over them, especially when that someone refuses to accept an expression of humility? They’ll feel unheard and, worse, taken advantage of. They may even think, “Why bother? If they think I’m an asshole, I might as well prove them right.”

Second, the act for which you’re apologizing may have confirmed what they’ve always wanted to believe about you. This is especially true when they view the group you belong to with suspicion: You’re on welfare, so of course you’re a lazy slob. You’re a white male, so of course you’re a racist, sexist pig. You live in public housing, so of course you’re a drug dealer or a gang banger.

When someone in any of these categories acts according to our stereotype, it confirms their prejudices. It relieves them of a nagging, underlying sense of cognitive dissonance. It’s uncomfortable when someone defies our prejudices, because they’re making us WRONG. And we don’t like to be wrong. It’s uncomfortable. By contrast, when people affirm our prejudices, it puts us at ease. Accepting an apology — that the person made a mistake, rather than acting out of a deep-seated character flaw — would be to restore that sense of cognitive dissonance.

That’s the last thing people with prejudices want.

Judgment or humility?

If it sounds like there’s something wrong with that, there is: the prejudices. Once we rid ourselves of them, we don’t have to deal with cognitive dissonance anymore. We can assess each individual on his or her own merits. If they screw up, we can assess their apology on the same terms. We won’t be saying, “Aha! I knew it all along! You’re just a typical...” fill in the blank.

Not only does it confirm our prejudices, it allows us to feel superior, because we KNOW we would never act that way. It’s shocking and appalling that anyone else should do so.

If we were expecting them to act badly in the first place, we’ll be expecting that their apology will be hollow or insincere too. So we LOOK for things to criticize in that apology, because we want to dismiss it and maintain our sense of superiority, our position of power.

We as a society don’t pay attention to the people receiving apologies. Our attention is so laser-focused on the person doing the apologizing, we don’t realize that it takes two to tango. We demand humility in the person who’s apologizing. But we never stop to think that accepting an apology should be done with humility too. It shouldn’t be used as an excuse to criticize someone else or lord it over them.

Yes, some apologies are insincere. Some people use apologies as an excuse to justify their behavior. But when it comes to sincere apologies, there are always two choices: judgment or humility. That goes for both the person offering and the person receiving the apology. And the appropriate response on both ends is always humility. Anything else, and an apology just won’t work.

Stephen H. Provost is a former journalist and the author of more than 40 books, all of which are available on Amazon.