Before we can say “we’re sorry,” we must first say, “this is what happened.”
Apologies are not made out of air.
They are built on facts.
And yet, in the arena of public and collective apology, facts are often the first casualty. Denial. Revisionism. Political pressure. Fear. They conspire to obscure the truth of what happened—who was harmed, how, when, and why.
This is why, as philosopher Nick Smith argues in I Was Wrong: The Meanings of Apologies, a meaningful collective apology must corroborate the factual record of harm. Without this grounding, the apology becomes fragile, vague, or performative. It cannot heal what it refuses to name.
Because when a government, institution, or community apologizes, the first question any listener asks is:
“Do you really understand what you’re apologizing for?”
And that understanding begins with truth.
Why Corroboration Matters in Collective Apologies
To corroborate a factual record is to do more than “admit” wrongdoing. It is to invest in the truth—to document, verify, preserve, and publicly affirm the events that gave rise to the harm.
This process matters because:
- It respects the dignity of those who suffered.
- It challenges historical denial and erasure.
- It creates a foundation for future accountability.
- It educates the broader public and coming generations.
- It prevents repetition of harm through moral clarity.
In this sense, the record is not just historical—it is moral infrastructure. It tells the community:
“We will not forget. We will not distort. We will tell it whole, even when it costs us.”
The Wounds of Denial and Erasure
One of the greatest obstacles to collective healing is historical amnesia. When survivors speak of stolen land, forced assimilation, state violence, systemic abuse—and are met with doubt or dismissal—the wound deepens.
They are asked to relive their trauma, but not believed. They are offered apologies, but not facts. They are invited to forgive, while their truth is ignored.
In these moments, failure to corroborate the record becomes a second harm.
Smith emphasizes that apology without evidence—or worse, apology that refuses to affirm documented history—rings hollow. It comforts the powerful but offers no justice to the powerless.
Examples of Truth-Seeking Before Apology
Many powerful collective apologies have been preceded by public efforts to document the truth:
- South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission compiled testimony from over 20,000 victims and witnesses before national apologies were issued for apartheid-era atrocities.
- Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission collected thousands of survivor stories about residential schools before the government apologized.
- Germany’s Holocaust education and memorial infrastructure underpins its ongoing national acknowledgment of the Nazi regime’s crimes.
- Chile, Argentina, and other Latin American countries have produced truth commissions as a first step toward acknowledging state terror and “disappearances.”
These truth processes are not perfect. But they represent a collective commitment to honesty. They tell victims: “We have listened. We believe you. And we will not revise what you remember.”
What Happens Without a Verified Record
When collectives skip the step of corroboration, their apologies suffer. The apology becomes vague, euphemistic, or politically safe.
Instead of naming murder, they say “unfortunate incidents.”
Instead of genocide, they say “historical grievances.”
Instead of slavery, they say “a difficult past.”
This language erodes trust. It signals not contrition—but cowardice.
And for the descendants of the harmed, it offers no justice.
No clarity.
No closure.
The Role of Institutions in Establishing the Record
Corroborating the factual record is not the responsibility of victims alone. It is a moral responsibility of the collective.
Governments must declassify archives.
Churches must open internal records.
Universities must fund historical research into their own legacies.
Media must tell the stories with nuance and rigor.
Educators must bring the truth into classrooms.
This is not about “wallowing in the past.” It is about owning the past, so that apology becomes not just a public gesture—but a moral commitment rooted in reality.
Reflection Questions for Readers:
- Have you ever witnessed a public apology that lacked a clear, corroborated account of what happened? How did it feel?
- What facts are still missing, silenced, or debated in the collective harms you care about?
- What role can you—or your institution—play in helping to preserve and tell the truth?
Telling the Truth Is an Apology in Itself
Before we apologize as collectives, we must ask:
“Do we understand what happened? Have we looked deeply and honestly at our own actions? Are we willing to preserve the truth—even when it implicates us?”
Because the truth is not an obstacle to apology.
It is the ground it stands on.
To corroborate the factual record is to affirm that memory matters. That lives lost will not be reduced to footnotes. That harm will not be softened for comfort. That we are not building reconciliation on myth—but on evidence.
And that, maybe more than anything, is what makes an apology believable.