“Sorry seems to be the hardest word”, or so Elton John seemed to think. Then again, that was before the present Age of Apology.

There is a never-ending stream of the aggrieved, demanding apologies for all sorts of past wrongs, real or imagined. Political leaders of all persuasions appear happy to play along. True, there’s nothing inherently wrong with someone saying sorry for a misdemeanour they genuinely regret or something that can be redressed.

Nevertheless, you don’t have to be a cynic to suspect most apologies, especially in diplomacy and politics, conceal self-serving ulterior motives or hypocrisy. If you think the Prime Minister’s apology for “Partygate” was sincere, just forward your bank details to that Nigerian prince who’ll send you a shed load of money by return.

Author and journalist Otto English traces the roots of the political apology back to Pope John Paul II. According to English, John Paul II issued more than 100 expressions of papal regret. Rightly or wrongly, some are described as “faux apologies”, including his finessing of the Catholic church’s connivance in the slave trade from the 15th century onwards. There was also his fudge of Pope Pius XII’s dereliction of duty during the Holocaust. John Paul II appeared more comfortable apologising for the Crusades and historical wrongs suffered by the likes of Galileo and Jan Hus than more contemporary abuses such as the Magdalene Laundries. He might well have set the trend for empty apologies that sidestep restorative actions that actually mean something.

Apologies for most historical wrongs are worthless. People who have done nothing wrong are apologising, often by proxy, to those who aren’t the actual victims. To paraphrase Sam Goldwyn, “a verbal apology ain’t worth the paper it’s written on”. They certainly don’t guarantee future ethical behaviour. In 1990 for example, Russia apologised for the 1940 massacre of around 20,000 Polish prisoners of war. Present-day Ukrainians might well view that apology with a jaundiced eye. The Journal of Peace Research has reported that, since the end of the Cold War, apologising has become a growth industry. Its database lists at least 329 apologies proffered by 74 different states.

The UK and Scotland are not immune from apology mania. Few would condone horrendous events in our history, but hollow apologies debase any residual value they may have. In 1995, The Queen apologised to the Māori people for historical wrongs. Two years later Tony Blair apologised for the Irish famines of the 1840s. Earlier this year, the First Minister issued an apology on behalf of all Scots to the thousands of unfortunate women persecuted between 1563 and 1736 under the Witchcraft Act.

Yes, it was awful, but it wasn’t the Scottish Government’s fault and it certainly wasn’t my fault or your fault, so what good does the apology serve? There’s a stronger case for apologies for wrongs suffered by gypsy travellers and gay men, as some victims are still alive. Similarly, an apology is justified to the unmarried women forced to give up their children in the 1950s, 60s and 70s.

But, come on, do apologies from those who weren’t responsible, mean anything at all? When it comes to centuries-old wrongs such as the witchcraft trials, the Scottish Government would have been wiser to follow the lead of its Spanish counterpart. When called upon by Mexico to apologise for the 16th century massacre of the Aztecs, Spain’s response was a model of common sense; “The arrival of Spaniards (in Mexico in 1519) cannot be judged in the light of contemporary considerations”. End of.

If you start apologising for things that happened in the past, where does it end? Even in old age, my mother’s eyes filled with tears when describing the appalling and dangerous working conditions experienced by my grandfather in the 1930s. During the unpaid summer “holidays” he trudged the streets looking for a day’s work. His employers were the ancestors of one of Scotland’s best known and wealthiest industrialists. From the 17th to 20th centuries, many thousands of Scots, including children, suffered as my grandfather did. Should the CBI and our local billionaire captain of industry not be apologising to them and their descendants for their suffering and indignity?

Admittedly, some apologies have been less pointless. David Cameron’s 2010 apology for Bloody Sunday helped ease tension in Northern Ireland. The Truth and Reconciliation process achieved something similar in South Africa. And therein lies the difference. Apologies that actually mean something are important. Most however, are simply diversionary tactics designed to camouflage current failings. The plethora of official apologies undermines confidence in their sincerity. Apologies are of value, only if they change something about the world and are a prelude to some form of restorative action. Otherwise, they are just an exercise in virtue signalling.

To paraphrase Sam Goldwyn once more: if the Government has plans for further apologies, “on behalf of the nation” and for which I have no personal responsibility, include me out. Sorry.

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