In the midst of yet another celebrity scandal — this time Ryan Seacrest, not just a red carpet but a multipronged empire at stake — one thing has become clear: The apology is dead.
Like so much today, this trend has been accelerated by President Trump, who issues all manner of insults and false claims yet almost never apologizes. In his mind, he never does anything wrong — or, at least, doesn’t care to admit it.
“I like to be good,” he told CNN in 2016. “I don’t like to have to ask for forgiveness. And I am good. I don’t do a lot of things that are bad. I try to do nothing that is bad.”
Love him or hate him, it’s working. Once upon a time, when Oprah dominated the culture, publicly flogging oneself was almost chic.
Now, in Trump’s parlance, apologies are for losers.
The current tactic is to double down and fight. Once you apologize, it seems, you’ll never come back, and such defiance crosses party lines. Look at Elizabeth Warren, ridiculously clinging to her claim of Native American heritage.
“I know who I am,” she told the Boston Globe in January. This despite the New England Genealogical Society researching Warren’s family tree and finding no proof of such lineage. Back in 2012!
It’s not that we don’t hold such figures to account. It’s just that they don’t care.
Note the statement Harvey Weinstein issued just hours after his scandal broke last October:
“I came of age in the ’60s and ’70s, when all the rules about behavior and workplaces were different.”
This is the first line of an ostensible apology: To blame an era made awful for women by men like him. Buried in a tuft of self-justifications, psychobabble and a bizarre endnote about channeling his rage toward the NRA is an apology — one rightly and largely deemed insincere.
No shortage of male celebrities have followed suit, perfunctory regret slathered beneath lots of “I” statements, the first line almost always opening with a denial.
Ben Affleck, on the videotape of him groping actress Hilarie Burton: “I don’t remember it . . .” Matt Lauer, on claims of sexual assault and harassment: “Some of what is being said about me is untrue or mischaracterized.” Russell Simmons, accused of rape by multiple women: “While I have never been violent, I have been thoughtless and insensitive in some of my relationships . . .” Charlie Rose, accused of harassing multiple young women: “I have learned a great deal as a result of these events, and I hope others will too.” Director James Toback, who says his 310 accusers are either “lying c – – ksucker[s] or c – – t[s] or both.”
Well then.
And let’s not forget Roy Moore, the Senate candidate credibly accused by multiple women of molesting them as teenagers. “These allegations are completely false and are a desperate political attack by the National Democrat Party and The Washington Post on this campaign,” Moore said.
And why should Moore feel ashamed, let alone have dropped out? In 2018, knowing all we know now, Roman Polanski still has his supporters. Some celebrities have finally abandoned Woody Allen, probably because he no longer creates Oscar bait.
To be called a child molester was once the worst accusation of all. To associate or work with a child abuser was social suicide.
Now it’s a mere blip on a career path.
As ugly as it is, perhaps we’re all better off this way. Back in the era of the Kennedys and Clintons, one could, say, leave a woman to drown, issue a forced apology and carry on. But that true lack of remorse, which one can intuit, has led us to the refusal to apologize — for a public person to tell us, in essence, “I don’t think I did anything wrong.”
It’s much better to know that Polanski, Weinstein et al. have no shame. It’s better to know they’re monsters and threats to public safety. It’s better that, as much as we want to believe the good in people, we now identify and recognize the bad.
It’s better to know they’re not sorry.