How to Apologise Properly
How to Apologise Properly
Why saying sorry is not quite the same as doing it well
Every now and then, something in the news pokes my professional instincts and reminds me that public communication is rarely just about words. In the light of people being bombed around the world, this one might sound a bit trivial, but it something we all find ourselves having to do. . . . apologise.
Leaving the wider troubles of the world to one side, let’s consider the Bondi tribute at the SCG, and the apology that followed because of the omission of a specific mention for the Jewish community. As always, this is not criticism of an individual. It is observation through the lens of gravitas, with the aim of helping the rest of us avoid making the same mistakes in our own leadership moments.
In the article ‘What Authentic Leadership Looks Like Under Pressure’ (Harvard Business Review) leadership decisions are not only strategic but publicly scrutinised and morally charged. No one is ‘wrong’. We are all doing our best. But many of us are running old habits picked up at school, at home or in the office kitchen, when there are in fact well-established frameworks for what may work more effectively.
And yes, this matters.
Because forgiveness is one thing. Forgetting is another. A poor apology can keep pain alive, prolong resentment and turn one problem into three. In leadership, that is an expensive hobby.
The issue at hand arose after a tribute to the victims of the Bondi terror attack at the SCG sparked controversy. Sydney Swans CEO Andrew Pridham later acknowledged removing a direct reference to the Jewish community and said:
“I own it as CEO and I take full responsibility. It was about being inclusive to everyone who was out there on the field with our players and our coaches and again the brave responders and the community heroes and of course the Jewish community.”
At first glance, it sounds reasonable. Responsible. Even sincere. But apologies are not judged by whether they sound vaguely decent on first hearing. They are judged by whether they do the job.
And the job of an apology is not to tidy up the speaker. It is to acknowledge the hurt of the listener.
That is where leaders often come unstuck. They move too quickly to explanation. They soften the edges. They round off the corners. They want to be seen as well-intentioned, inclusive and balanced. All admirable qualities, except in an apology, where clarity beats polish every time.
A stronger structure would have been something like this:
"At the Sydney tribute to the Bondi attack, I did not specifically reference the Jewish community. I am sorry for that decision. I was trying to acknowledge everyone on the field and in the wider community, but in doing so I made a significant omission. That omission caused hurt and I will be more careful in future to ensure important communities are not overlooked."
Simple. Direct. Clean.
No verbal gymnastics. No attempt to win the gold medal in explanatory synchronised swimming.
There are many formal models for apology, dressed up as five As, five Rs and other catchy formulas consultants adore, but most say roughly the same thing. Following a framework is key! And capturing these is one of the unconventional modes that last week won me the Top 150 B2B Influencers list. Hooray me.
So, I believe a useful apology includes five elements:
describe what happened
apologise clearly
explain without making excuses
show empathy for the impact, and
state what will change in future.
In other words: what I did, I’m sorry, here is why, I see the impact, and here is what I’ll do differently.
One phrase I would treat with caution is: “I understand.” It is often intended kindly, but it can land with a thud. In moments of hurt, saying “I understand” can sound as though you are climbing into someone else’s experience wearing their jumper. Better to acknowledge the impact plainly: “I can see this caused hurt,” or “I can see why this mattered.”
Then there is the other half of the apology: the body.
We cannot ignore the non-verbals, because people do not only listen to an apology. They inspect it. A statement of regret delivered while staring into the middle distance can feel like a hostage video with better tailoring.
Eye contact matters. Steady, appropriate eye contact helps convey trustworthiness and presence. It signals that the speaker is not ducking the moment.
Gestures matter too. I would coach a leader to use the hands deliberately across the structure of the statement: to the left when describing what happened, to the centre when apologising, and to the right when speaking about the future. It is not theatre for theatre’s sake. It helps keep the breath moving, supports verbal flow, and provides a physical map for the mind. In high-pressure moments, the body often remembers what the brain temporarily misplaces.
The broader lesson is this: an apology is not a press release with feelings attached. It is a leadership act. Done well, it restores trust. Done poorly, it becomes yet another thing for people to forgive.
And that, as many executives know, is a rather avoidable mess.
Let me hear your thoughts.
Love,
Dr Louise Mahler