Sorry seems to be the hardest word. Or so Elton John would have it. In modern public life, however, it has acquired an even more elusive cousin. The apology that apologises for absolutely nothing.
You will recognise it immediately. It arrives dressed in solemn language, accompanied by a grave expression and the faint rustle of a communications team hovering just out of sight. "I apologise for any offence caused." There it is. Perfectly formed. Immaculate. And entirely hollow.
Because offence is not an independent weather system. It does not drift in from the Atlantic and settle unexpectedly over a remark. Offence is the entirely predictable consequence of saying something offensive. It has a cause. And that cause is the speaker.
Apologising for offence is therefore a subtle act of linguistic evasion. It shifts the burden from the act to the reaction. The offence becomes the regrettable event. Not the words themselves. The implication is clear enough once you notice it. The problem is not what was said. The problem is that people reacted to it.
It is the rhetorical equivalent of standing on someone's foot and saying, "I apologise for your pain," while continuing to lean on their toes.
A real apology does something very simple. It acknowledges agency. "I said this. It was wrong. I regret saying it." That is an apology. It identifies the act and accepts responsibility for it. There is no ambiguity. No smoke. No mirrors.
The modern non-apology, by contrast, is an exercise in reputational risk management. It exists to neutralise consequences without conceding error. It reassures sponsors, calms shareholders, and creates the impression of contrition while preserving the original intent intact beneath the surface.
It is not remorse. It is maintenance.
And everyone understands this. The speaker understands it. The audience understands it. The journalists understand it. Yet the ritual continues, as though we are all participants in an elaborate theatre production whose plot has long since ceased to convince anyone.
The result is that the apology itself has been quietly hollowed out. It no longer serves its original purpose of acknowledging wrongdoing. It has become instead a form of linguistic insurance. A tool for containing fallout rather than confronting truth.
Which leaves us in the curious position where the rarest thing in public life is no longer honesty. It is responsibility.
Not the offence. The cause.
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