Apologizing with Precision: The Moral Power of Identifying Each Harm

“I’m sorry for everything” sounds kind—but it’s not always enough.


In the aftermath of hurt, it’s tempting to rush to resolution. To gather the emotional debris into one sweeping gesture and say, “I’m sorry. For all of it.” Sometimes that feels safe. Sometimes it feels sincere.


But often, it falls short.


Because when someone’s been hurt, they don’t want a vague apology.

They want clarity.

They want acknowledgment.

They want each wound to be seen.


In I Was Wrong: The Meanings of Apologies, philosopher Nick Smith makes a compelling case for why identifying each harm is essential to a genuine apology. It’s not just about being thorough—it’s about honoring the full moral reality of what took place.


A real apology doesn’t generalize. It names. It remembers. And in doing so, it restores dignity to the one who was harmed.




Why Specificity Matters


Imagine someone says to you, “I’m sorry for everything I did.”

It’s a nice start. But what exactly are they sorry for?


The broken promise?

The cruel words?

The night they didn’t come home?

The months they were emotionally absent?

The lie you found out about too late?


When apologies are vague, they leave space for denial. They allow the person apologizing to maintain distance from the full impact of their actions. And for the person receiving the apology, this can feel like being asked to accept an empty gesture—one that gestures at pain without touching it.


But when someone says, “I’m sorry I lied to you about the trip. I’m sorry I made you doubt your instincts. I’m sorry I raised my voice in front of your friends and made you feel small,” something shifts.


The wound has been seen. The memory has been honored. The apology begins to mean something.




The Risk of Overlooking


Nick Smith warns that when we fail to name each harm, we risk minimizing what happened. We risk collapsing many moments of injury into one abstract expression of regret. This may feel convenient for the wrongdoer, but it rarely satisfies the moral needs of the person harmed.


Worse still, it allows certain wounds to go unrecognized—and unhealed.


Every act of wrongdoing has layers: the act itself, the emotional impact, the betrayal of values, the public embarrassment, the broken trust. Each of these deserves recognition. Not to dramatize. Not to punish. But to dignify the person who lived through it.


To apologize fully is to say: “I see it all. And I won’t pretend otherwise.”




Why This Is So Hard to Do


Many of us shy away from specificity in apologies because it means facing ourselves—really facing ourselves. Naming each harm forces us to confront not just what we did, but who we were when we did it. It demands a level of self-awareness that can be painful, even shameful.


But Smith reminds us: moral growth requires discomfort.


A vague apology is easy. A truthful one is hard. But only the truthful one has the power to rebuild what was broken.




In Relationships: Don’t Skip the Details


This lesson is especially powerful in personal relationships—between partners, siblings, friends, and parents.


We may be tempted to offer a quick “I’m sorry for being distant lately.” But what if instead we said:


  • “I’m sorry I missed your birthday dinner.”
  • “I’m sorry I brushed you off when you needed to talk.”
  • “I’m sorry I kept looking at my phone while you were crying.”



Each sentence is a thread. Woven together, they form the fabric of reconciliation.


They say, “I was paying attention. I didn’t forget. And I take it seriously.”




Not Every Harm Is Obvious


One of the deeper insights from Smith is that some harms are subtle. A person may not even realize the full scope of the damage they caused until they slow down and ask:


  • Did I betray a confidence?
  • Did I cause fear, even if unintentionally?
  • Did I neglect someone’s emotional needs while focusing only on surface actions?



Identifying each harm invites reflection. And reflection brings moral clarity.




Reflection Questions for Readers:


  • Have you ever received a vague apology that left you feeling unseen?
  • Have you ever offered an apology that skipped over the details—intentionally or not?
  • What would it feel like to go back, and name each harm specifically?





The Gift of Being Seen in Full


At its core, identifying each harm is an act of deep respect. It tells the person we hurt: “You matter. Your experience matters. And I won’t pretend this was less than it was.”


In a world that often favors shortcuts and silence, a specific, courageous apology stands out like a beacon.


It doesn’t erase the past.

But it gives us something just as powerful:

A chance to face it—honestly, completely—and begin again.