An apology without detail risks being a performance. But naming each harm? That’s where truth begins.
When institutions, governments, churches, or corporations attempt to apologize for collective wrongdoing, they often do so in broad, sweeping terms:
“We regret the injustices of the past.”
“We are sorry for the suffering caused.”
“We acknowledge the pain experienced by victims.”
These words may sound serious. They may even be well-intentioned.
But too often, they are vague. Generalized. Sanitized.
They tell us something bad happened—but not what, or how, or why.
They signal sorrow—but sidestep responsibility.
They gesture toward healing—but avoid the full truth.
In I Was Wrong: The Meanings of Apologies, philosopher Nick Smith reminds us that for a collective apology to have moral depth, it must do something harder, more painful, and far more powerful:
It must identify each harm.
That means naming, out loud and in detail, what was done, to whom, by whom, under what authority, and with what impact.
Because until we tell the full truth, we can never fully apologize.
Why Generalization Hurts More Than It Heals
When an apology skips over the specifics of harm, it risks:
- Erasing the victims’ experience
- Flattening historical nuance
- Dodging institutional accountability
- Reducing justice to a soundbite
Worse still, generalizations allow the apologizing collective to maintain moral distance. It allows them to say “We’re sorry this happened” without ever saying “We did this, and here’s how.”
This avoidance may protect public image or prevent legal consequences—but it fails the test of ethical responsibility.
And for those who suffered—whose lives were broken, whose families were torn apart, whose cultures were erased—it often feels like being ignored all over again.
What It Means to “Identify Each Harm”
To identify each harm in a collective apology is to say:
- “We forcibly removed 150,000 Indigenous children from their homes through government-backed residential schools.”
- “We knowingly polluted Black and brown communities through decades of redlining and environmental neglect.”
- “We expelled students, denied jobs, and criminalized identities during the McCarthy era based on sexuality and political beliefs.”
It is to lay out a moral record, not just a political statement.
This includes:
- Specific acts (e.g., forced sterilizations, violent suppression, institutional complicity)
- Specific victims or communities
- Specific consequences (intergenerational trauma, economic loss, social exclusion)
- Specific roles the collective played (as actors, beneficiaries, or bystanders)
This level of honesty is rare. But it is what makes an apology morally recognizable.
Why This Is So Hard for Institutions
Institutions are risk-averse. Leaders fear lawsuits. Boards fear backlash. Public relations teams fear losing control of the narrative.
So they push for safe apologies—ones that express remorse without inviting deeper scrutiny.
But Smith reminds us: a safe apology is often an insufficient apology.
When collectives fail to name each harm, they protect themselves at the cost of moral truth. They choose image over integrity. And the apology becomes less a bridge to justice, and more a wall of vague regret.
The Power of Naming Each Harm
When collectives do identify each harm, something profound happens:
- Victims feel seen and heard
- History becomes harder to deny
- Institutional memory becomes honest
- Future reform has clearer purpose
Consider:
- The U.S. Army’s formal acknowledgment of the Tuskegee Syphilis Study, explicitly naming its role in deceiving and harming Black men over decades.
- Germany’s Holocaust memorials, which list names, locations, and specific atrocities—not just in Berlin, but across towns and cities.
- South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, where perpetrators were required to publicly disclose specific acts in exchange for amnesty.
These are not just symbolic acts. They are moral reckonings.
And they show that collective dignity begins with collective honesty.
Reflection Questions for Readers:
- Have you ever heard a public or institutional apology that felt too vague to be meaningful? What was missing?
- What harms—historical or recent—do you think your community or institution has yet to name?
- What would it look like to say: “We’re not just sorry in general. We’re sorry for this, this, and this—and here’s why it matters.”?
Real Apology Begins with Real Memory
Collective apologies are not about protecting reputation.
They are about rebuilding moral relationship.
And relationship can only be rebuilt when the full truth is on the table—not abstractly, but in all its detail.
To identify each harm is not to wallow in the past.
It is to dignify the people who lived through it.
To set the record straight.
And to say—not just symbolically, but specifically:
“We know what we did.
We know what it cost.
And we are ready to make it right.”
Only then can apology become what it’s meant to be:
Not a gesture of sorrow, but a promise to change—rooted in the truth.