Public apology must be cast in instances known by name

Experience has taught us that remorse is the offspring of a repentant heart. It hinges in elements of self-rebuke, guilt and the search for personal inner peace, in your circumstances. The troubled soul finds a quiet moment to dialogue with itself. It admits to itself that it has failed, either through doing or by failing to do something. It makes a private apology to itself and a public confession to others. It seeks reconciliation with the wronged party.

Hence, the perpetrator of a heinous act will recognise it for what it is. He will accept his negative responsibility and make an unconditional public admission, while craving forgiveness. Conversely, someone who failed to act when s/he should have acted may say, “Forgive me. I let you down. I knew about your situation. I had the capacity to help. Yet I did nothing. I failed you. I am sorry.”

Remorse is, accordingly, the product of very clear circumstances that are known by name. A public apology cannot, therefore, be cast in vagueness and generalities. Those who crave forgiveness will place a precise name to the sin they have committed. They will not cast their apologies in subjunctive phrases and sundry conditional clauses. They will not say things like, “If I have wronged you, forgive me.”

This is called rubbing it in. Somewhere in your soul, you are overwhelmed with feelings of guilt. Yet, you lack the sincerity to make a full admission and atonement. Alternatively, you probably want something from me. But you are aware that you have wronged me. To pave your way to your present goal, you elect to make a halfhearted apology, couched in subjunctives. You, therefore, say hypothetical things like, “If I have wronged anyone, please forgive me.”

No. I cannot take you seriously. Sin is known by name. Those who go to the confessionary must have the candour and courage to call their sins by name. It is in this context that people of conscience should interpret the ongoing amphibian choruses of apologies from Kenyan’s political elite. President Uhuru Kenyatta kicked off the process in his State of the Nation address this week. Suddenly, everywhere – in the social media and on other platforms – politicians are falling over one another with their own brands of subjunctive apologies. We can’t be serious, can we?

Good grief, you are telling us that you don’t believe that you have wronged anyone. However, in the very unlikely event that someone out there feels wronged by you, you are asking them to forgive you. It is best that such perfunctory apologies are not proffered. In this case, the villain remains honest, even if only in a perverted sense.

A sincere apology is rendered in the declarative mood. And it leaves nothing in the province of doubt. “I, Joseph the dreamer of dreams, declare today that I killed Baby Pendo in August last year,” the repentant pilgrim will say, for example. A head of state may say, “I sent out troops to Huruma Estate. They shot and killed Baby Zawadi. I am overwhelmed with a sense of personal responsibility. I seek to be forgiven.”

Someone else – I don’t know who – may come out of the woods and say, “We took away the life of Chris Musando of the Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission. Alwora Manani paid us to carry out this odious act. I am truly sorry. I apologise to the Musando family and to my country. I will forever regret this inhuman act on my part.” Alwora Manani may himself come out and seek forgiveness. But you don’t make subjunctive pronouncements of the kind we have heard and call that an apology.

We fail grossly

Equally guilty is the journalist who calls such a perfunctory remark an “apology.” As early as 1965, Wole Soyinka called us the interpreters, in a novel that bears this title. We fail grossly when we pick up and peddle labels without questioning them. Look at the example of the so-called national dialogue between President Kenyatta and his nemesis, Raila Odinga. The very fact that this farce hinges in the effort and goodwill of two individuals should be adequate to tell us that there is nothing national about it.

There are other indicators, too. For example, nothing about this exercise has been entered in the Government Gazette. The selection of two gentlemen to spearhead the process did not cite any law. Nor did any article of the Laws of Kenya purport to support their vague assignment. When, this week, the two issued a list of 14 people to support them in their mysterious mission, the communication was printed on a plain piece of paper – without any institutional letterhead or address. They signed off in their names, without any official appellation, even as they spoke of a smoky “Secretariat.” There is a need for our interpreters to tell us what this could mean, rather than dwell on such trifles as who does not seem to be represented on “the team.”

Where is the institutional framework in this farce? If there are lawyers on “the team” are they LSK nominees? If there are religious leaders, are they from the Episcopal Conference, the NCCK, or the Supreme Council of Kenya Muslims? Have these institutions been seized of the bridge building agenda? Do they understand the process? What of the Francis Kaparo-led National Cohesion and Integration Commission? Where does it fit in this bridge building affair? Where is the Kenya National Human Rights Commission in the process?

When we continue to ignore the law and established national institutions, perfunctory apologies that we render on past failures slap us smack in the face. This week, when we are marking the World Media Day, our journalists are challenged to play their interpretative role a lot more astutely. We should refuse to be unquestioning phrase-mongers for the political class and purveyors of their high sounding nothing.

-The writer is a Public Communications adviser. [email protected]