Apology and Suicide

Apology is serious business, with serious consequences.  People who make mistakes should apologize and take responsibility for those mistakes, including accepting consequences such as paying restitution--including, possibly, prison--changing their behavior, and promising not to repeat the offending behavior. Suicide ought never to be part of the bargain of apology.

The whole purpose of apology is to mend fences, build bridges, heal relationships, and restore communities.  Suicide facilitates none of these goals.

Suicide and apology are intertwined lately thanks to comments made by Iowa Senator Charles Grassley about the shamelessness of AIG executives who caused the collapse of the insurance giant and then felt entitled to bonuses.  Grassley expressed outrage that the AIG executives failed to apologize or show contrition for their behavior.  Perhaps they should "resign or go commit suicide," he said. 

Predictably, Grassley was attacked for this suggestion, modern political discourse not being able to distinguish rhetorical excess from a literal declaration. 

Grassley's point was merely what millions of Americans felt about the AIG executives and by extension all the business leaders responsible for the economic meltdown.  People were furious about the unwillingness of executives to take responsibility or to apologize for living large for so many years at the expense of others.  All Grassley wanted was for the executives of failed businesses to make a more formal public apology, as business leaders have done in Japan.

"What I'm expressing here obviously is not that I want people to commit suicide. That's not my notion," Grassley said.  "But I do feel very strongly that we have not had statements of apology, statements of remorse, statements of contrition on the part of CEOs of manufacturing companies or banks or financial services or insurance companies that are asking for bailouts."

Japanese culture requires Japanese executives to take responsibility for scandals within their companies by issuing public apologies on camera and stepping down.  Ritual suicide was central to Japanese feudal life under the samurai warrior ethic, but these days ritual suicide is almost unheard of.  But ritual apology is much more common. 

I think ritual apology is useful, and it's certainly better than no apology at all.  But I call on U.S. executives to issue spontaneous, effective apologies that are specific to the circumstances, unique to the business leader, and not ritualized.  In other words, the apology and it acceptance should not be choreographed.  In the U.S., apology should not be about saving face, but the possibility of healing. 

Most of all, our apologies must retain the possibility that the apology will not be accepted.  This perilous outcome is precisely the conclusion that ritual apology is designed to eliminate.  The thing about a ritual is that both sides know precisely what the dance steps are.  There is no possibility of a misstep.

It's precisely the possibility of a misstep that gives apology its power.  We have no choice but to resonate to a person of privilege making him- or herself vulnerable by admitting fault, taking responsibility, and expressing contrition--all without a guarantee that the apology will not be turned against them. 

Apology, at its core, is really an exchange of shame and power between the offender and the victim. Apology involves a role reversal. Apologizers relinquish power and put themselves at the mercy of their victims, who may or may not accept the apology. I think it's this moment of uncertainty, when we reverse roles, that makes apology so excruciating. Even if we do manage to offer an apology, the reluctance to lose control results in defensive, halfhearted, and otherwise ineffective apologies for individuals and institutions.

Apology is the bravest gesture we can make to the unknown. If you think about it, the unknown is exactly what we enter whenever we apologize. Offering an apology is like tossing a lit firecracker and hoping it'll be caught and maybe--just maybe--will become, through the gentle power of acceptance, an instrument of healing.

Will your apology be accepted? Will the person you are apologizing to become emotional and make a scene? If you make yourself vulnerable, will the person you are apologizing to be compassionate or punitive? What if the recipient uses the apology to punish you or uses it against you in court? If your apology is rejected, then what?

Apology draws its power from requiring us to trespass on uncertainty. If the outcome to an apology were ritualized--predetermined-- it wouldn't be so difficult and it wouldn't be so powerful. Apology derives its moral authority from this fundamental uncertainty. There are no guarantees.

Apologies are loaded with all the hopes, desires, and uncertainties that make us human because, at the moment of genuine apology, we can't avoid our humanity. At the point of apology we strip off a mask and face our limitations. That's what I call on AIG executives to do.