Josemaría Moreno
We recently concluded the end-of-year holiday season, a time that demands some degree of reflection and motivation from all of us. Although it is positive to consider the beginning of a new year as an opportunity filled with wishes and resolutions to fulfill, perhaps these should not lack an analysis on how to ask for a well-deserved apology and show regret for any harm committed against others or ourselves.
Unfortunately we live in times that neglect repentance and responsibility, in fact, this seems to be a ubiquitous shortcoming. We can think of our politicians, who would never agree to apologize for any mistakes in their administration, at the risk of equating apologizing with responsibility – which in some cases would be equivalent to civil, even penal, liability. Or we can easily imagine, in a more personal matter, a colleague unable to apologize for some mishap at the office party: you had one too many drinks and said something you shouldn’t have.
However, it is difficult to determine the boundaries of responsibility. In this regard, the Stoic philosopher, Epictetus, formulated a maxim of extreme simplicity and profound scope, a sentence that Alcoholics Anonymous cleverly took over. In its most recognized version it reads like this: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to recognize the difference.”
As I said before, there are few current examples of well-known figures offering a sincere apology. The last memorable case that comes to mind is that of the president of the Korean airline Jeju Air, who at the end of last year, after the terrible accident of one of his aircraft – resulting in 172 deaths – immediately came forward, and before cameras and witnesses, offered an apparently sincere apology and bow, accepting all responsibility for the incident, even before knowing all the causes of the accident. Although a gesture of this magnitude pales in comparison with those who lost their lives and the pain of their families, it is an unbeatable gesture to begin the investigation of the accident and the proposal for compensation – which will certainly never be enough.
The previous example is somewhat extreme, however, I maintain that it could be paradigmatic: the consequences or the dimensions do not matter, it is only human to take responsibility for our actions as they befall us, trying to clearly differentiate between what we can change and what we cannot. And although we started this conversation talking of celebrating the holidays – I understand that it is sombre to talk about responsibility and apologies when it comes to moments of joy and happiness –, the suffering of other people, our responsibility towards them – infinite, Sartre would say – should force us to reflect upon these matters.
Clearly the spirit of this text is not to bring out the relentless Catholic within me. An apology, in my opinion, should not pass as guilt. The latter is a discomfort, a resentment, in Nietzsche’s words, that paralyzes any power of recreation and spiritual creativity, when, looked at more closely, an apology only serves one purpose: to change the perspective in which the self fades in favor of the appearance of the other: a subject that will never be one’s own but that irrefutably defines what one can be or become.
At the beginning of the year, as on any other date, there is room for empathy and reflection. Taking responsibility for our actions and the circumstances in which they occur is a sure path to personal edification. Knowing how to ask for forgiveness at the right time is doing justice to our peers, our neighbors, our loved ones. It has been proven hundreds of times – both in literature and in science, I think of Tolstoy and Freud; or in my personal and professional life, taking into account all those times I disappointed a good friend or colleague who, after witnessing my regret, agreed to allow the relationship to grow instead of disappearing or becoming null – that the ultimate goal of existence, whatever that may be, invariably permeates our intersubjective relationships, and the effort we spend in trying to make them grow is how the quality of life to which we can aspire is determined. This cannot be overemphasized: no one will find happiness except through their neighbor, and no one can be sufficiently responsible towards their neighbor unless they are able to clearly announce an apology when the moment calls for it. We are fallible beings, incredibly fallible, but we are uniquely capable of turning even our most horrible mistakes into our truest potential: aspiring to love and be loved, not despite our failures, but precisely because of them.
