Brilliant Thoughts by Ashleigh Brilliant Born London, 1933. Mother Canadian. Father a British civil servant. World War II childhood spent mostly in Toronto and Washington, D.C. Berkeley PhD. in American History, 1964. Living in Santa Barbara with wife Dorothy since 1973. No children. Best-known for his illustrated epigrams, called “Pot-Shots”, now a series of 10,000. Email ashleigh@west.net or visit www.ashleighbrilliant.com
Pardon My Apology
A
lthough I’ve now been living in the U.S. for most of my life, there’s one thing that still makes me feel like a foreigner. That is the difficulty which many people seem to have in admitting a mistake, and saying they are sorry. In comparison, in many countries – even England, where I was partly brought up, there’s a tendency to be effusive in expressing regret for having made even a trivial error. What I find in this country is an apparent sense of shame, which makes people unwilling to confess that they were wrong. At a market check-out counter, for example, if you notice an error, the clerk will tend to gloss over it, and will certainly not thank you for pointing it out. One expression I have noticed, which for some reason I think may have originated among American troops during the Vietnam War, is “Sorry about that.” This is often said in a way that makes you feel the person is not deeply abasing himself – in other words, it is a lighter, softer, and actually less truly meaningful, way of saying, “I’m sorry.” There are, of course, other cultures, particularly in what we used to call the Far East (which more accurately from our perspective is the Near West) where, at least traditionally, humility was considered a virtue, and one apologized for oneself almost as a matter of form. But, speaking for myself, I’m glad to tell you that I’ve never had any trouble in apologizing, honestly and sincerely. And people are sometimes so surprised at this that they respond forgivingly and warm-heartedly. Indeed, this ability is apparently such a rare gift that I sometimes find myself wishing I had more things to apologize for. I’m reminded of a story about a man who, after staying in a certain hotel, wrote them a letter complaining that he had encountered bedbugs in his room. He received in reply an expansively apologetic letter, saying how unusual this was, and how they would take all steps to eliminate the problem. He thought that it was quite a satisfactory response, until he noticed a small note which had inadvertently been left attached, which stated “Send him the bedbug letter.” One of history’s most famous apologies is a good demonstration of the supreme power of the popes in the Middle Ages. A dispute arose in 1076 between the two most powerful men 15 – 22 June 2017
of the time – Henry IV, who bore the title of Holy Roman emperor, and the pope, Gregory VII. I won’t burden you with the details, but it was really all about who was ultimately going to call the shots in Europe. Since Henry wouldn’t yield, the pope not only excommunicated him, which was pretty drastic in itself, but also threatened to dethrone him permanently. To mix a couple of metaphors, it was the pope who held all the cards, so it was Henry who had to eat humble pie. He did so dramatically, by making a personal pilgrimage over the Alps, in the middle of winter, to the pope’s castle at Canossa, in northern Italy, and waiting there, outside in the snow for three days, before Gregory agreed to see and ultimately forgive him. This incident is remembered so well in the annals of personal humiliation that any such profound apology is still called “Going to Canossa.”
I’ve never had any trouble in apologizing, honestly and sincerely But if individuals find it hard to apologize to one another, consider how hard it is for nations. Despite the niceties of diplomacy, many great and well-known historic wrongs are still waiting for some official expression of regret, let alone any actual redress. Everywhere you look, there is some aggrieved group harboring injustices that are sometimes hundreds of years old. The ill feelings may be between countries, or even between large groups within a society. I therefore have to wonder why I myself find it so easy, and almost pleasant, to apologize, when the occasion arises. Can it be because I have so little of that commodity, so highly valued nowadays, called “self-esteem” (I think we used to call it “pride”)? Maybe lacking such a quality is nothing to be proud of. But there you are. Anyway, I’ve never understood that now-hackneyed line from Erich Segal’s Love Story: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Perhaps its popularity derives from the fact that, as I began by complaining, most people apparently don’t like having to say they’re sorry anyway – and love has nothing to do with it. •MJ
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What we become depends on what fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us. – Umberto Eco
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