An Apology to Saramago

by Andreea Breazu ︎︎︎


It was a year of apologies. I don’t care what they called it on the news, in parliament or at the UN. It was a year of incessant apologizing, small apologies, collective apologies, serial apologies1, conditional apologies2, political apologies, mandated apologies, commissioned apologies, ghostwritten apologies, sincere apologies, apologies to dead Indigenous children, apologies to future generations, racists and rapists apologized alike, some apologized for knowing but not saying, others for saying but not doing, while many apologized for not apologizing earlier.

There were declarations, yes, press releases too, official and unofficial statements, lengthy captions, email signatures, protests, lawsuits, screenshots from the Notes app. But that was just the beginning, as we each tried our voice at atonement open mic night, remorse karaoke, or a podcast of regrets recorded under a heavy blanket.

At first, they were exceptional moments. It felt like we held our breath every time someone issued a new apology. One should imagine it like that scene from an early ‘00s Hollywood film about some sort of impending apocalypse, in which unnamed characters come to a standstill as they near the window display of an electronics store, alight with dozens of tv screens, concomitantly broadcasting the same catastrophic news in deep blacks, bright whites, and scintillating colour. An eerie silence would emerge, as we listened carefully to see if we understood their reasons, if we believed their resolutions, if their regret reflected introspection.

It became a new normal. We were sorry for what we had done and what we hadn’t, what we had and what we hadn’t, what we were and what we weren’t. Soon enough we were sorry to be, we were sorry for others, we were sorry in solidarity. Bigots were quick to point out, “Sorry but3 you can’t expect me to be sorry about everything.” So you see, it wasn’t so much a reckoning, or an awakening, it was merely a new social norm. Police said ‘sorry’ on live tv, the military coughed up an ‘excuse me’ and withdrew troops from countries they’d lost interest in, the government apologized and took an early lunch, the church begged for our pardon and a donation, Wall Street brokers spelled out ‘forgive me’ on the stock market data monitor and took a group photo.

We knew then this had become another ruse of capitalism. If you’re always sorry, you’re always buying cards and chocolate and flowers to redeem yourself, expensive jewellery, a romantic getaway, or even a month-long luxury, silent rehab retreat in Bali. The price is in direct correlation to the size of your apology, it’s HUGE.

No one knows when the resistance movement started, there is no record of it beginning because it started like a private embarrassing secret. People started faking their apologies without confiding in anyone. Everyone was lying but no one knew, because they were lying to their friends, their family, their illicit partners. It started small, with an “i’m fine” or an “i love you too” in bed. It grew to fabricating elaborate storylines that you were working, when in reality, you would have quit your job and refused to search for a new one while putting on the 24/7 live art performance of convincing all your peers that you too are working from home in a pandemic. We only realized it had happened when the internet stopped. Because those working to upkeep the digital infrastructure of our world, they too had quit and were pretending to be working from home in a pandemic.

It was a boring and awkward revolution.



1. The phenomenon of apologizing for your apology in the format of a more formal yet stripped back apology, usually written by a publicist.

2. “I’m sorry if you’re offended”, “I’m sorry if you’re hurt”, “I’m sorry if you’re sorry”, etc.

3. Sorry but fuck you.





Mark