An apology is not only an admission. It is a conversation.
And no conversation is complete if the person harmed is not allowed to speak back.
In the wake of collective wrongdoing—whether colonization, systemic injustice, or institutional abuse—governments, churches, corporations, and universities often make public statements of apology.
They say things like:
“We are sorry for the suffering you endured.”
“We deeply regret the pain caused by our actions.”
“We acknowledge the wrongs committed in the past.”
These words may be powerful. They may even be heartfelt.
But too often, they are spoken into silence—without inviting response, without offering dialogue, and without recognizing the victims as moral interlocutors.
In I Was Wrong: The Meanings of Apologies, philosopher Nick Smith urges us to see apology not as a monologue, but as a moral conversation.
And in that conversation, the people harmed must be treated as equals—not just in pain, but in voice, in moral standing, and in agency.
This is the heart of apology: not just confession, but relationship. Not just words spoken about someone—but words spoken to them, and with them.
Who Is a Moral Interlocutor?
A moral interlocutor is someone we speak with on equal ethical terms.
It means:
- They are not merely witnesses to wrongdoing, but participants in justice.
- Their account of harm is not secondary—it is authoritative.
- Their forgiveness is not assumed—it is earned.
- Their needs are not peripheral—they are central.
When collectives recognize victims as moral interlocutors, they are saying:
“You are not just a symbol of suffering. You are someone whose voice matters in the story of repair.”
What Happens When Victims Are Treated as Spectators
When apologies are made without recognizing the harmed as moral equals, the result can feel like a performance:
- Public statements made in grand ceremonies, but with no real consultation
- Carefully crafted messages that speak about victims, but not with them
- Attempts to “move on” without first hearing or meeting the needs of the people directly affected
This kind of apology may sound noble. But it risks becoming paternalistic:
“We are sorry for what we did to you, and we will now decide what happens next.”
Smith warns that this approach reproduces the very logic of domination that caused the harm in the first place.
What Recognition Looks Like in Practice
To recognize victims as moral interlocutors means, concretely:
- Consulting with them before and during the formulation of the apology
- Listening to their account of harm—without correction, defensiveness, or dilution
- Inviting response, including criticism or rejection of the apology
- Co-creating paths to redress and reform
- Acknowledging their moral authority to name what justice means
This does not mean placing impossible burdens on those harmed.
It means honoring their agency.
It means saying:
“You were harmed by us. You were silenced by us. You will not be excluded again—not even from our apology.”
The Healing Power of Dialogue
When collectives treat victims as moral interlocutors, something powerful shifts:
- The apology becomes not just an announcement, but a moral exchange
- Truth is not dictated—it is co-authored
- Healing is not prescribed—it is negotiated with humility
And for the harmed, the effect can be deeply affirming:
“They didn’t just say they were sorry. They treated me as someone who deserves to be heard. To be consulted. To matter.”
That, in itself, is part of the justice so often denied.
Reflection Questions for Readers:
- Have you ever seen an institutional apology that failed to include or consult those most directly harmed? What impact did that have?
- Are there groups or communities you belong to that have apologized—but only from a distance?
- What would it look like to ask the people harmed, “What does accountability mean to you?”—and really listen?
A Different Kind of Power
Apology is not just about the speaker.
It is about the relationship being restored.
And relationships cannot be repaired if only one side gets to define what happened, what matters, and what comes next.
When collectives recognize victims as moral interlocutors, they give up some control—but gain something deeper:
Trust. Dialogue. Repair.
They say:
“We see you.
We hear you.
We believe you have something to say.
And we will not move forward without you.”
That is when apology becomes more than words.
It becomes a return to the moral table—together.