When “I’m sorry” is more than just words—it’s a mirror of who we are becoming.
We live in an age saturated with apologies—some sincere, many hollow, and others so ambiguous that we’re not sure whether we’ve been honored or insulted. From political podiums to corporate press releases, the language of contrition has become part of our everyday landscape. And yet, the more apologies we hear, the more we seem to mistrust them.
Why is that?
In I Was Wrong: The Meanings of Apologies, philosopher Nick Smith opens with a bold observation: our culture is suffering from “normative dyspepsia.” In plain terms—we’re morally uncomfortable. Apologies, which once signaled deep remorse and transformation, now often ring out as scripted performances or legal tactics. But beneath this cynicism lies something deeper: a yearning. A hope that apologies could still mean something, that they might carry moral weight in a world where meaning often feels eroded.
Smith invites us to take apologies seriously—not as etiquette, but as a moral act. He explores how they serve as crucial rituals that define our values, hold people accountable, and offer pathways toward healing. And in doing so, he turns the question back on us: what kind of culture do we create when we stop believing in the power of an apology?
The Apology as a Moral Compass
Think about the last time someone truly apologized to you. Not a hasty “sorry if you were offended,” but a real reckoning—a clear acknowledgment of harm, sincere regret, and a commitment to make things right. How did that feel?
Now, think about the last time you received a half-apology. Or worse, a non-apology dressed up in the language of remorse. Did it feel like being gaslit? Did it leave you more wounded?
Smith argues that apologies are one of the clearest ways we express our moral commitments. They are not just about etiquette—they’re about identity. When we apologize well, we affirm values: honesty, empathy, justice. We say, in effect, “The world should not work this way. I should not have acted this way. You deserved better.”
In this sense, apologies become a moral language. They are how we make meaning out of wrongdoing. And in a world where wrongdoing is inevitable, they are one of the few tools we have to turn harm into restoration.
Modernity, Multiculturalism, and Moral Fragmentation
But here’s the challenge: we now live in a world with no single shared moral script.
In pre-modern societies, apologies were often embedded in religious traditions. Whether through Christian confession, Islamic tawba, or Jewish teshuvah, repentance followed a clear, sacred path. But in our pluralistic and secular world, those old maps are fraying. We don’t all agree on what wrongdoing is, let alone what counts as a sincere apology.
This, Smith suggests, is the heart of our modern struggle. Without shared moral foundations, apologies become harder to interpret. Is the CEO’s apology a sign of corporate accountability, or just PR damage control? Is the president’s statement about a historical injustice genuine, or politically expedient? Even in our personal lives—does your friend really mean it, or just want the tension to go away?
The result is confusion, distrust, and a deepening suspicion of public remorse.
Why We Still Need Apologies
Yet, for all this complexity, Smith insists we cannot abandon the apology.
Why? Because apologies are one of the few acts that call people back to moral responsibility. They slow us down. They force us to reckon with harm, to name it, and to acknowledge the people we’ve hurt. They’re a way to hold onto our shared humanity in a time when moral language is fragmented.
In fact, the very confusion surrounding apologies points to their importance. If we didn’t care about sincerity, integrity, and justice, we wouldn’t be so upset about bad apologies. The public outcry over hollow apologies isn’t a sign of decay—it’s a sign that we still believe these words should matter.
A Personal Reckoning
Smith’s approach also invites us to reflect not just on others’ apologies, but our own.
What does it mean when we say, “I’m sorry”? Are we trying to end the conversation, or begin a hard one? Do we apologize to escape blame, or to accept it? Do we use apologies to restore dignity—or to protect ourselves from vulnerability?
In modern life, we are all asked to play multiple roles: friend, partner, parent, citizen, colleague. In every one of those roles, we will inevitably fail someone. The apology is what lets us return—not to erase the harm, but to honor it. And maybe even to grow from it.
The Invitation of a Better Apology
So, what would it mean to reclaim the apology—not just as a social tool, but as a moral practice?
It would mean that saying “I’m sorry” is never the end of the story, but the beginning of transformation. It would mean holding ourselves and others accountable—not to punish, but to seek repair. It would mean seeing apology not as a sign of weakness, but as one of the highest expressions of ethical strength.
And maybe—just maybe—it would mean creating a culture where healing becomes possible again.