'Sorry seems to be an easier word': the politics of apology

There are a number of consistent themes in the protestations of those who oppose national apologies. Many highlight concerns over the legal implications of an apology, raising questions about the payment of reparations and the feasibility of deciding who was eligible for an apology. Others question the culpability of some or all “indigenous” Britons in the slave trade and empire as a whole, querying to whom and for what an apology should be given.

Apology-resisters argue that Britain was not alone in perpetrating such crimes and that such actions were representative of particular periods of history and should compartmentalised from the contemporary world.

But although such apologies may not be able to redress history or compensate those affected, they are a statement of intent in the drawing of a line between the past, and the present. They are public statements that ratify the re-interpretation of the past, thus raising expectations of citizens for a more inclusive, moral and just future. They underline the progressive nature of a national society, suggesting citizenship and identity are fluid, progressive and aspirational, not fixed, regressive and enduringly bigoted.

Saying sorry highlights that debates about identity and history can be important emancipatory responses to injustice, encouraging a process, which if managed sensitively, can encourage empathy, grief, responsibility and ultimately some form of reconciliation.

Marina Warner noted in a fine essay published on openDemocracy in 2002 that the “politics of apology” provides insight as to national self-examination and self-disclosure. She suggests that such apologies provide important recognition, to consent to the story told by the wronged victim or victims in question to contribute to the revision of national history and the reshaping of group identities. However, she raises a number of important questions that raise doubts as to the motivations and purpose of state apologies. She notes that it is easier for political leaders who are not directly implicated in past acts to apologise. Recent evidence would suggest they are more reluctant to apologise for acts they were directly involved in.

Does an apology herald the beginning of a more sustained period of critical examination of the nation past or does it mean such reflection is ended? What is the purpose of apology without retribution or justice? An apology can restore dignity and spread forgiveness but must it lead to reform? Warner questions the value of false words, highlighting the potential for an arena of post-imperial revisionism whereby governments are competitive in their preparedness to apologise. Without a deeper examination of the causation and context of such acts, she believes that state apologies could simply lead to “an inflationary spiral of self-pitying self-justification”.

These important questions raise doubts as to the motivations and sincerity of the Labour government in the UK to tie recent apologies to a more fundamental review of how the imperial past shapes current constructions of British identity and citizenship.

Ed Balls suggested a British apology would be “symbolically very important”, though he was less clear about why and in what ways. Indeed Labour’s reluctance to review the past and apologise for many of Britain’s imperial sins is instructive. Tony Blair’s half-hearted attempt in 1997 to atone for the Irish famine probably did more harm than good. There has been no suggestion that Blair or Brown felt moved to apologise for the British role in the slaughter of indigenous peoples in Australia, or indeed in North America, Africa, Asia or elsewhere.

Questions persist as to why Brown felt moved to apologise to the lost generations but was far more circumspect about such a move during the bicentennial celebrations of William Wilberforce’s 1807 Slave Trade Act. Though Brown argued slavery was an affront to British national values, and emphasised that Britain led the world in abolishing the slave trade in the name of liberty, no formal apology was forthcoming.

In all these cases, there was no attempt to explore the motivations for imperial policy and what were the implications for the British historical narrative that Brown in particular has drawn attention to when articulating and justifying a framework of British values.

What made Brown’s statement most interesting is that he categorically rejected such moves when discussing his view of Britishness on Newsnight in 2005. Brown had just returned from a visit to Tanzania when he told Martha Kearney that “I think the days of Britain having to apologise for our history are over. I think we should move forward. I think we should celebrate much of our past rather than apologise for it and we should talk, rightly so, about British values”.

Since becoming Prime Minister, Brown has, however, become something of serial apologiser. Not only has he announced his intention to contradict himself by apologising to the forced child migrants of Australia (but strangely not Canada or elsewhere), he recently apologised for the appalling homophobic persecution of eminent computer scientist Alan Turing.