How about apology as foreign policy?

Apologies make news. Recently, in a carefully orchestrated statement, US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton told Pakistani Foreign Minister Hina Rabbani Khar that "we are sorry for the losses suffered by the Pakistani military", adding "we are committed to working closely with Pakistan and Afghanistan to prevent this from ever happening again".

The "losses" were the accidental killing, in November 2011, of 24 Pakistani soldiers. Pakistan demanded an apology, and after the US refused, Islamabad closed off NATO supply lines to Afghanistan.

Figuring out the apology took about eight months.

There were repercussions in the Middle East where Turkey had been demanding that Israel apologize for the killing of nine Turks in 2010 when Israeli commandos, in international waters, boarded the Mavi Marmara, a Turkish passenger ship that was attempting to break the Israeli blockade of Gaza.

For two years, despite deteriorating relations with its former quasi-ally, Israel had steadfastly refused to apologize, upholding its policy of never showing weakness in a hostile region. As precedent, Israeli Foreign Minister Avigdor Liberman referenced the US refusal to apologize to Pakistan.

"The Pakistanis asked the US to apologize, and the Americans said 'no way'," Liberman had said. "So when they [the US] come to us and pressure us to apologize over the Marmara sometimes even to best friends you must say 'no'. Otherwise, no one will respect you."

Now that the US has reversed its position and apologized, there is pressure on Israel to do likewise.

Why are diplomatic apologies, which are so cheap to give, so dear to offer? After all, apologies cost nothing in treasure or blood. The reason centers on pride and dignity, potent human traits that, while sometimes noble, all too often mutate into obstacles, causing self-harming behavior. In this sense, countries are like people, only worse.

Apologies are dangerous for political leaders: saying "we're sorry" to other countries flouts nationalistic prejudices and thus weakens the leaders who do so. US President Barack Obama was pilloried by his domestic critics for apologizing, especially to the Muslim world, for various US actions. Extracting apologies from national leaders is worse than extracting their wisdom teeth.

Stuff happens and history offers lessons on how apologies work - and do not work. In 1999, during NATO airstrikes to stop Serbian attacks on ethnic Albanians in Kosovo, a US B-2 warplane bombed the Chinese embassy in Belgrade, Yugoslavia, destroying the building and killing three Chinese journalists.

To the Chinese people the bombing was a national insult, and although the US blamed "old maps" for the tragic accident, almost every Chinese assumed that the attack had been deliberate. Angry crowds focused their fury on the US embassy and consulates. The fever of the crisis broke only when then president Bill Clinton's apology was featured prominently on the front pages of China's newspapers.

In 2001, a US Navy surveillance plane, monitoring electronic signals off China's coast, collided with a Chinese fighter jet, which then disintegrated, killing its pilot. The damaged US aircraft was forced to make an unauthorized emergency landing on the Chinese island of Hainan, and as news of the incident spread, waves of Chinese indignation flooded the Internet, inundated radio, television, and the press, and poured onto the streets.

One netizen offered an analogy: "If someone peeps at your wife when she is having a bath and your son goes out to drive that person away but instead he is beaten to death, what would you do?"

"The US should apologize to the Chinese for this incident," then president Jiang Zemin said, echoing the feelings of his countrymen, "and bear all responsibilities for the consequences".

In response, a White House spokesperson denied any plans to apologize. "I have heard some suggestions of an apology," said then secretary of state Colin Powell. "But we have nothing to apologize for. We had an emergency."

Searching for solution, Jiang devised a high-road analogy: "I have visited many countries and seen that it is normal for people to ask forgiveness or say 'excuse me' when they collide in the street," he said. "But the American planes come to the border of our country and do not ask forgiveness. Is this behavior acceptable?"

In a well-choreographed diplomatic dance, US officials were permitted to see the plane's crew, and the next day, in a parallel show of goodwill, Powell expressed "regret" for the loss of Wang Wei, the missing pilot. Then president George W. Bush expressed his own "regret", but stopped short of apologizing. "Our prayers," he said, "go out to the pilot and his family".

The crisis ended when diplomats worked semantic magic so that Washington's double use of the word "sorry" in its official letter offered sufficient apology for the accident. In addition to expressing "sincere regret" over the missing pilot, the letter also said that the US was "very sorry" for entering China's air space without permission and admitted that the landing in Hainan did not have verbal clearance.

The final wording of the letter was negotiated entirely in English, an unusual procedure. "It allowed a little more wiggle room," mused one diplomat.

The lack of apology can prolong, even exacerbate, ill feelings. For years, Japan would not offer to China a full and unconditional apology for its vast atrocities committed during the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression. Just before Jiang's visit to Japan in 1998, Japan had apologized overtly to South Korea, expressing "remorseful repentance".

But when China requested the same strength of apology, Japan refused, claiming a difference between its actions against Korea, which had been a Japanese colony for 35 years (1910-45), and against China, where Japan had not been colonizers but merely "occupiers", and then only for eight years (1937-45).

To the Chinese, who had lost upwards of 20 million people during that horrific period, the distinction was vulgar and galling. The wording of Japan's apology would continue to color Sino-Japanese relations.

In today's world, with 24-hour news cycles and the always-on Internet clustering like-minded beliefs and allowing little time for reflection, resentment and anger can self-generate with astonishing speed. That's why apologies can be powerful antidotes to the poison of reciprocating invective and escalating abuse, which are often caricatured and exaggerated by each side in a vicious cycle that can ossify into lasting antagonisms. Apologies, counter-intuitively, can symbolize strength.

Note, however, that apologies only work to ameliorate accidents or mitigate mistakes, or when errors of the past can be redressed soberly. Conversely, when there is malevolent intent, apologies are counterproductive - apologizing to Hitler would have only fueled the beast - and it takes wise leaders, especially in the face of domestic nationalism, to discern the difference.

Apologies, like aircraft carriers, can become powerful weapons in a country's arsenal. But apologies are for countries that are confident and leaders who are strong.

And if you don't agree, well, I apologize.

Dr Robert Lawrence Kuhn is an international corporate strategist and investment banker. He is the author of The Man Who Changed China: The Life and Legacy of Jiang Zemin and How China's Leaders Think (featuring China's new leaders). He is a regular commentator on China (BBC, Bloomberg, CCTV, CNBC and Euronews). The views expressed in the article do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.

(China Daily 07/20/2012 page8)