Sorry

Yesterday’s Inquirer had a news item written by Nancy Carvajal about two car wash boys in Novaliches stabbing to death a coworker and leaving a note for their employers: “Sorry, sir and ma’am.  He was always cursing us.”   The article reports that after that apology, the two workers wrote: “Don’t interfere so that you won’t get mixed up in this.”

I bought all the Tagalog tabloids to check what exactly the note was in Filipino but strangely, none of them seemed to have picked up the news item. Nevertheless, I considered the news item important enough for a column, to talk about different trends—positive and negative—in the use of apologies.

In recent years, we’ve seen governments, through the head of state, apologizing for past crimes in history. In 2008, Australian Prime Minister Kevin Rudd apologized for the maltreatment of Australian aborigines, including the forced separation of many of mixed-race children from their parents and their transfer to dormitories and industrial schools to be raised by white Australians.

Last December, the Dutch government apologized to relatives of some 430 villagers from Rawagede, West Java, who were massacred by Dutch colonial troops in 1947.

After the South African apartheid regime collapsed, the new government launched Truth and Reconciliation Commissions through which perpetrators of racist murders, kidnappings and other crimes came face to face with the victims, and apologized.

Errant government officials in some countries, notably Japan and South Korea, also come out with public apologies when confronted with evidence of wrongdoing.  The public apologies are usually accompanied by resignations, even if an investigation is still ongoing. In 2009, South Korean president Roh Moo-hyun committed suicide amid a corruption scandal where he was implicated.

The willingness to apologize varies. The Japanese are paradoxical here. On one hand, suicide has been ritualized through hara-kiri, even done with an assistant, and is seen as an honorable way to put an end to the shame of defeat, or wrongdoing. The Japanese, too, are always apologizing for causing inconvenience to others, or for disrupting harmonious relationships. For example after the terrible earthquake and tsunami last year, there were many scenes of men and women breaking down crying, and then quickly apologizing because they were aware that such public expression of emotions is seen as disruptive and rude. Yet it is this strong sense of face that also seemingly makes Japan refuse to apologize for its many war atrocities and the suffering it inflicted on many countries.

In the Philippines, public apologies are almost unheard of.  It’s a matter of face again, and public officials, even when confronted with overwhelming evidence of wrongdoing, continue to plead innocence.

Arroyo’s “I am sorry”

Maybe it’s just as well.  I wonder how sincere an “I’m sorry” would be from our public officials.  Former President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo did say “I am sorry” in 2005, on television, amid the public outcry over the “Hello Garci” scandal—about a taped phone conversation allegedly between her and Commission on Elections official Virgilio Garcillano, which suggested vote-rigging in the 2004 presidential election where she was declared the winner over Fernando Poe Jr.

Somehow though, the apology fell flat. And as the Arroyo presidency struggled to survive,  plagued by more scandals breaking wide open one after another,  she retreated, keeping silent or finding ways to clamp down on opponents.

I’ve wondered if perhaps her “I’m sorry” marked the trivialization of apologies in the Philippines.  I worry at how quickly “I’m sorry” is uttered now, sometimes even with a promise, “Hindi na po uulitin.” (This will not be repeated.)  The Catholic ritual of confession may have made it too easy for us to get away with wrongdoing—by absolution granted through light penance, usually a few prayers.

Recently at UP Diliman, there were debates about penalties imposed in a case involving dishonesty: a reprimand and an apology. Understandably, there was cynicism about these penalties, reinforced when the letters of apology were read out and faculty members commented that they could not find remorse in the letters.

As dean, I had to handle one of the students, accepting his apology and then giving the reprimand. I wrote mine out, and also asked the student to come and see me, explaining that reprimands should also be accompanied by advice. And my advice was for him to think hard about what was so wrong with what he did.

Teaching kids

Last month I visited educational institutions in Taiwan set up by Foguang, a humanist Buddhist group, and the most exciting part of the tour was a preschool/kindergarten.  There, the directress explained their curriculum, and their many activities for the children to develop self-esteem and a sense of respect for others. At the end of each school day, the children have a 25-minute session where they’re asked to think if they did or said anything that might have hurt someone, and to apologize to that classmate.  At the same time, they’re also asked to think of instances where someone might have been extra kind, or good, and to thank that person.

It’s an activity we might want to bring into our young schoolchildren.  For colleges, sessions like that would not be appropriate, but at UP there’s talk about requiring at least one ethics course where students will learn right and wrong, not from lists of sins or illegal acts, but by being presented real-life situations requiring a decision based on ethical principles.

Why, for example, is cheating considered such a grave offense?  Few people see it as a form of corruption, one that assaults other people.  Cheating is stealing from the one you copied from, and short-changing classmates who put in hard work for their grade while you take the easy way out.

In the public government apologies I mentioned at the beginning of my article, apologies were always accompanied by announcements of measures to right the wrongs, like financial compensation for victims or their relatives.

Training in ethics might make us think harder before saying “I’m sorry” or, better, think harder before even doing something wrong.  There are offenses so great that an apology offered afterwards would have no meaning, and there would be no way of making up for the injustice—as we see in that grisly Novaliches murder.

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