President Obama is being asked to apologize for characterizing the Cambridge Police Department as acting "stupidly" for arresting Harvard scholar Henry Louis Gates Jr. in his own home.

So far president Obama has not apologized. 

He should.  An effective apology is the best thing the president can do right now.

He should do so because his choice of words was unnecessarily provocative, because this incident distracts everyone from the bigger issue of health care reform, and most of all because Obama violated one of his own principles.  He issued a definitive opinion before getting all the facts.

In case one of the president's advisors is tuning in, here's my suggestion for the apology: 

I'm here to apologize to Sgt. James Crowley and all the members of the Cambridge Police Department.  It was wrong of me to use the word "stupidly" to characterize the actions of the officer when, as I myself admitted, I didn't have all the facts.  In fact, it was stupid of me.  The work of a police officer is complicated enough without me complicating it even further with ill-chosen words.  So let me again express my apologies for my provocative language and rush to judgment.  There are some important issues to be sorted out here and I regret that my actions have made this important work more difficult for everyone. 

Obama has always rejected calls for quick action by saying that he is not one to make a decision until he has all the facts.  This rule he violated by acknowledging he didn't have all the facts and then giving one anyway.

Obama's main interest right now is advancing health reform.  This incident is a step backward. 

And finally, Obama's rhetorical gifts failed him when he characterized the incident as he did.   

There is no shame in apologizing for one's participation in a matter that benefits no one.  Obama's apology does not give the police officer a get out of jail free card.  Nor does it subtract from what will be a lengthy dialogue on racism, racial profiling, and the broader issues raised by the incident in Cambridge. 

Managing Means Having to Say You're Sorry

By BRITTANY HITE

Many managers and executives are lousy at apologizing. They worry about looking weak or losing credibility. But John Kador, a business author, speaker and consultant on workplace issues, thinks we need to say sorry more - and that apologizing can be good for the apologizer. He spoke with The Journal's Brittany Hite about why managers should apologize more, and how to do it well. Here are edited excerpts of the conversation.

Why do people often try to avoid apologizing?

The old-school way of thinking is [that apologizing is] a sign of weakness and vulnerability. [Leaders] often fear the apology will be used against them and that it will rattle their followers.

Should we apologize more?

Apologizing actually has benefits for the apologizer. An apology these days is a signal of confidence and strength. It signifies three attributes people now demand of leaders: accountability, transparency and humility.

What should managers apologize for, and how should they do it?

[We should be] apologizing for interpersonal mistakes that we contribute to. Whether we criticize someone inappropriately at a staff meeting, are late to a commitment, miss a deadline -- all these are opportunities for us to demonstrate integrity by apologizing without defensiveness.

Lose the excuses. Just say it straight: "I did it, it was wrong. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." Avoid conditionals, so it's not "I'm sorry, but you started it," or "I'm sorry, but I had a good reason," or "I'm sorry if you took offense." Those are not enough. Use the active verb: "I made a mistake" instead of "mistakes were made." Not "I'm sorry that your toy was broken," but "I'm sorry I broke your toy." Make sure you own the action.

Are you a good apologizer?

Here's a quiz to test your skills.

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One of the questions I always get is how can I apologize and maintain my position? The answer is you can't. Apologizing is accepting on some level that the other guy's facts are right.

But what if something's not entirely your fault? Should you still apologize?

What you should say is "I'm sorry" instead of "It's all my fault." That's all. If you have a fender-bender on the street, you can be decent about it and say "I'm sorry for my participation in this crash." You don't have to say "it's all my fault" because it probably is not.

Are there differences between women and men with apologizing -- are female managers more likely to apologize than men?

Women apologize more than men, and that has both its up and down sides. The upside is that the women's willingness to apologize resolves disputes and clears the air faster for departments and organizations run by women. They tend to prosper for that reason.

The downside is that some women have been socialized to appear to apologize more. When anyone starts a statement by saying, "I'm sorry but this might not be right," that's not an apology, but it is confusing. Some women apologize when they should not, and it does not serve them well.

What should CEOs apologize for more?

There are two classes: One is the personal mistakes, the ones they personally make. Using the wrong word, the wrong gesture, making the wrong decision.

The other class are mistakes they're taking responsibility for because they are the CEO. If the company messes up, or if some junior member messes up, they still need to account for it and apologize on behalf of the organization.

Executives need to be thoughtful about how they [apologize]. They should not automatically defer to lawyers to give them advice about it. An apology has a cost, but that cost is less than lying, stonewalling or cover-up. History teaches us that the outcomes for people who apologize is better than those who don't.

The CEO of Mattel, when [the company] came under fire for toys with lead-based paint from China, was really hammered. The CEO could've blamed its partners in China or tried to deny the issues, but he took every opportunity to apologize. And Mattel's sales actually increased that year. This is a very good example of how a crisis can be avoided by simply being accountable.

How has the Internet changed things?

Things now are instantly retrievable. In the old days, an offense, even if caught on film, sort of went away and you couldn't find it. Today's instant retrievability makes it so real. It also makes repetition of an offense much graver. When you promise not to do it again, you have to keep that commitment or you're going to be hammered.

[The Internet also] helps us see that no one is perfect. [President] Obama makes mistakes, and when he does, he apologizes for it. But people who see that take the cue. He was criticized for making fun of the Special Olympics [on David Letterman], but he came out and said, "That was dumb of me." That was refreshing. He said he made a mistake, but he learned from it and the story went away.

Is there such thing as apologizing too much?

That's a fair question. I don't know what is too far. Sometimes it makes sense to apologize for things you don't do or don't really own because it's the best thing to do. I'd love to see a world where people apologize too much and see how that works out, but I don't think we're close to it.

Write to Brittany Hite at brittany.hite@wsj.com

I was wrong about Mark Sanford, the embattled governor of South Carolina who misled his wife, staff, and constituents by taking off for Argentina.  I predicted he would resign.  I didn't think he could survive the protracted criticism for his many failings, including a dereliction of duty that would have ended the career of any state employee.  I failed to see that Sanford is made of sterner stuff than most politicians.  This quality is now on display in a long apology essay that Sanford has penned as part of his ongoing attempts at full apology. 

It is remarkable apology, quite unlike anything ever penned by a politician.  It is worth repeating here in its entirety.  My comments are below.    

I have struggled with how best to convey my regret in letting so many down, and in that regard I realize this column does not do justice to the process of saying "I am sorry." A hand-written note or phone call would ultimately be more appropriate, but given the number of people I need to apologize to, I write this to begin the journey of trying to get things more right with you and others.

It is true that I did wrong and failed at the largest of levels, but equally true is the fact that God can make good of our respective wrongs in life. In this vein, while none of us has the chance to attend our own funeral, in many ways I feel like I was at my own in the past weeks, and surprisingly I am thankful for the perspective it has afforded.

If you ever have the misfortune of being at this point, whether self-induced as in my case or not, it will give you an indeed amazing perspective on life and on what really matters. I read notes from someone who worked in a sandwich shop I ate at 10 years ago, from 7th-grade classmates, from state employees and more. While there have been lifetimes of lessons learned over the past weeks, three things most immediately come to mind:

• One, forgiveness and grace really do matter. I used to believe that at an intellectual level; now it is at the level of heart. Over my life I have not given enough of either, and yet given all the ways in which my failings have come to light, I write to apologize for, in the most profound of ways, letting you and so many others down. It's always the people closest to us whom we hurt the most, and given my standing of public trust, I know I've hurt many across our state. I apologize for this, and more than anything would ask for your forgiveness going forward.

• Two, life is indeed about way more than public standing or political views; it's about recognizing that none of us is the arbiter of truth, that there are moral absolutes and that there is a God to whom we will all report for our actions. My failure has been most glaring on this front, where no public apology can make wrong right. As a consequence, it is on this plane that I've grown the most over the past weeks -- and where I'm committed to growing the most going forward.

I've been humbled and broken as never before in my life, and as a consequence have given up areas of control in a way that I never have before. And it is my belief that this will make me a better father, husband, friend and advocate.

It's in the spirit of making good from bad that I am committing to you and the larger family of South Carolinians to use this experience both to trust God in his larger work of changing me and, from my end, to work to becoming a better and more effective leader.

I think all that has transpired will be particularly relevant in the way I deal with the legislative body and other state leaders going forward. Micah 6:8 asks us to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly, and as I begin these steps into the last 18 months of this administration, it will indeed be with a more contrite and humble spirit.

I've realized that as much as I have and will continue to advocate for things ranging from restructuring to responsible spending to school choice, my approach needs to be less about my will and more about looking for ways to more humbly present the greater principals and ideas at play. It needs to be less strident and more about finding ways to work with legislative leaders to advance the ideas so many of us believe in. It means less time fighting the tide, and a greater awareness of the fact that God controls it. In working with a few alterations to my approach, I think this could be a far more productive last session than the one that would have been had the tragedy that has unfolded not occurred, and in turn, people's lives can be made better.

• Finally it is at your funeral that you in many ways not only can see most clearly the things that really matter in life, but also get the best glimpse of who your real friends are -- and how much they matter. For that reason, I want to thank so many for their kindnesses and support over the years and for their kindness in this latest chapter in our book together as South Carolinians.

What I appreciate about this apology is the recognition that from a place of unreconstructed degradation real growth is possible.  Sanford has been stripped bare and recognizes in himself all the failings of which he has been accused.  Sanford's apology, in the words of William Butler Yeats, issues from the foul rag and bone shop of the heart:

Now that my ladder's gone, 

I must lie down where all the ladders start

In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.

A Thousand Clowns (1965)

A Thousand Clowns tells the story of unemployed television writer Murray Burns (Jason Robards).  Murray has been without a job for five months after walking out on his previous job.  Eventually he must prove to Sandra Markowitz (Barbara Harris) that he is a productive member of society. Murray charms and seduces Sandra while trying to avoid any responsibility.  After walking out of a job interview, Murray comes home to Sandra, who fully expects him to have a job. 

Murray is busted and he starts vamping.  Never was an apology more indirect yet hauntingly moving: 

SANDRA MARKOWITZ:  So, Murray, which job did you get?

MURRAY BURNS:   . . . Now, picture if you will: I am walking on East 51st Street about an hour ago, practicing how to say "I am sorry" with a little style . . .

SANDRA:  Sorry for what?

MURRAY:  Oh, anything . . . just rehearsing . . . Uh, well [clears throat . . . You know how it is when you're walking down the street talking to yourself, how suddenly you say something out loud?

SANDRA:  Uh huh . . .

MURRAY:  So I said, "I'm sorry," and this fella walking by, a complete stranger, he looks up a second, and he says, "That's alright, Mac," and he goes right on! [laughs]  He automatically forgave me! I communicated! Now, 5:00 rush hour in midtown you could say, "Sir, your hair is on fire," and they wouldn't even hear you. So -- I decided to test the whole thing scientifically. I just stood there on the corner of 51st and Lex saying "I'm sorry" to everybody that came by.

"I'm so sorry, Sir."

"I'm terribly sorry, Madam."

"Say there, Miss. I'm sorry."

Of course, I got a few funny looks, but I swear, Sandy, 75% of 'em forgave me! Something had happened to all of them for which they felt somebody should apologize. It was fabulous! I had tapped into some vast reservoir. I just said, "I'm sorry," and they were all so generous, so kind . . .

SANDRA:  Murray . . .

MURRAY:  Yeah, Sandy, I could run up on the roof right now, and holler, "I'm sorry!" and a half-million people would holler back, "That's okay, just see that you don't do it again!" [laughs]

SANDRA:  Murray, you didn't take any of the jobs . . .

MURRAY: Uh, Sandy, uh, I, uh . . . I'm sorry. I'm very sorry.

SANDRA:  [Silence]

MURRAY: Well, dammit, lady, that was a beautiful apology. I mean, you gotta love a guy who can apologize so nice. I rehearsed it for over an hour.

SANDRA:  [More silence]

MURRAY: Aww, Sandy, that's the most you should expect from life -- a really good apology for all the things you won't get . . .

A Thousand Clowns was nominated for five academy awards, including Best Picture.  It lost to The Sound of Music.

GONE WITH THE WIND (1939)

One of the great classics of American cinema, Gone With the Wind is an epic featuring two of the most memorable characters in movies: Scarlett O'Hara and Rhett Butler. 

This scene, early in the movie, takes place in a drawing room where a group of Southern gentlemen are arrogantly discussing victory in the oncoming war.  The characters have just been introduced to Colonel Butler, a rake whose claims to being a gentleman have long been abandoned.   Butler, a houseguest from Charleston, S.C. but otherwise a stranger, has been listening with amusement to the ignorant overconfidence of the men. 

Mr. O'HARA:  Now gentlemen, Mr. Butler has been up North I hear.  Don't you agree with us, Mr. Butler?

RHETT BUTLER:  I think it's hard winning a war with words, gentlemen.

CHARLES:  What do you mean, sir?

RHETT:  I mean, Mr. Hamilton, there's not a cannon factory in the whole South.

MAN:  What difference does that make, sir, to a gentleman?

RHETT:  I'm afraid it's going to make a great deal of difference to a great many gentlemen, sir.

CHARLES:  Are you hinting, Mr. Butler, that the Yankees can lick us?

RHETT:  No, I'm not hinting. I'm saying very plainly that the Yankees are better equipped than we. They've got factories, shipyards, coal-mines . . . and a fleet to bottle up our harbors and starve us to death. All we've got is cotton, and slaves and . . . arrogance.

MAN:  That's treacherous!

CHARLES:  I refuse to listen to any renegade talk!

RHETT:  Well, I'm sorry if the truth offends you.

CHARLES:  Apologies aren't enough, sir. I hear you were turned out of West Point, Mr. Rhett Butler. And that you aren't received in any decent family in Charleston. Not even your own.

RHETT:  I apologize again for all my shortcomings. Mr. Wilkes, Perhaps you won't mind if I walk about and look over your place. I seem to be spoiling everybody's brandy and cigars and . . . dreams of victory.  (Rhett Butler leaves the hall.)

Col. Butler's apology at the end is meant to defuse the situation.  The characters may mistake Butler's apology and willingness to retreat as a sign of weakness.  But the audience knows better.  The apology flows out of an abundance of experience with war and violence.  It's a sign of confidence.  Butler's prescience proves correct.  It's hard winning a war with words, but an argument is another matter.   The phrase, " I apologize for my shortcomings" is often an effective way to end an argument.     

Last week I predicted that S.C. Governor Mark Sanford will resign his office.

As of this writing, Sanford has not resigned and is insisting that he will not.  His position is that resignation would actually be an easy way out and that staying in office represents the more sure path to personal and spiritual growth. 

He explored this thinking in a statement he posted on Facebook and emailed widely to his constituents in South Carolina.  

I understand what Sanford is saying and I appreciate his struggle to use his public failing as a place from which to lead with more humility.  I wish him well. 

But Sanford will resign because he will realize that his apology remains incomplete because it did not include adequate restitution.  The only restitution Sanford can offer is his resignation. 

I say in my book that you can't talk your way out of a situation you acted your way into.  Sanford's act will be to resign.

That doesn't mean his struggle to lead from a place of humility and integrity will end.  In fact, resigning from the duties of governor will free to him to do the soul-building work before him.

He has a good shot at the growth he seeks if he remembers that powerful things happens when we tell the impeccable truth about ourselves.  

By acknowledging, naming, and ultimately accepting his mistakes and their consequences, Sanford will embrace his humility and will make room for his true self, imperfect and all too human, just like everyone else.