The art of the social media apology

How not to do it

(Hameltion)

It was an act of petulance. Part way through her semi-final match in Indian Wells, California, world number two Iga Swiatek received a ball from a ball kid, and proceeded to hit it right back in his direction. Fortunately for both parties, she missed. Had the ball struck flesh, Swiatek would almost certainly have been disqualified. See for yourself how close she came.

Swiatek, who went on to lose the match to eventual champion Mirra Andreeva, did not attend her post-match press conference. Instead, three days later, the five-time major champion posted a long (I know I’m one to talk, but 739 words!) multi-slide Instagram post, in which she addressed the incident – and a whole lot more.

Iga Swiatek Instagram post

Now, I know it is out of political favour, but I really think we ought to defund all manner of metaphorical police forces, from the goal celebration police to the apology police. Of course, there are some egregious examples of non-apology apologies out there. You know it when you hear it. When people – often celebrities, sportspeople and politicians – use conditional language, shift blame, refuse to acknowledge impact or prioritise excuses over empathy.

I think policing this is a tedious pastime, only partially redeemed by the term “acknowlogy” – that is, the act of recognising a mistake was made without actually apologising. That said, I think it is worth exploring the Swiatek example.

For context, Swiatek has endured a difficult few months. The Pole completed a one-month suspension late last year after testing positive for the banned substance, trimetazidine. The suspension was so short because the International Tennis Integrity Agency accepted that it was the consequence of a contaminated batch of melatonin, a sleeping medication. Still, it has understandably hung over the former world number one.

In her Instagram post, Swiatek wrote that she “immediately apologised to the ball boy” but also complained about being held to an unfair standard:

“When I’m highly focused and don’t show many emotions on court, I’m called a robot, my attitude labelled as inhuman. Now that I’m more expressive, showing feelings or struggling internally, I’m suddenly labeled immature or hysterical.” But this was not the criticism. Swiatek nearly struck a ball kid in anger!

What is frustrating about Swiatek’s apology is how easy it would have been to get right. Her crime was not a particularly grievous one. Had she simply posted a picture of herself with the ball boy in question, smiling and perhaps in receipt of a signed racket, the incident would have been resolved. Instead, by seeking to provide further insight, giving more away than necessary and conflating multiple separate issues, she muddied the waters and raised further hackles.

So, public figures are always better served by offering a quick (heartfelt or otherwise) apology? Not necessarily. Back in the prelapsarian world of 2010, Apple had a problem. It transpired that, if you held the brand new iPhone 4 in a particular way, your call would disconnect. Customers were angry (I guess 15 years ago, people were still using their devices to talk, rather than interpreting phone calls as an act of violence).

Steve Jobs holding the iPhone 4 (Matthew Yohe)

Steve Jobs summoned the world’s media. Everyone anticipated a grovelling apology, perhaps even a product recall. I mean, what choice did he have? Instead, Apple’s CEO said:

“We’re not perfect… Phones are not perfect. We all know that. But we want to make our users happy.” This, you may have noticed, is not an apology. Yet it worked. Jobs executed the so-called ‘higher ground manoeuvre’, in which the speaker elevates the discussion to a zone in which there can be no disagreement. I mean, of course phones aren’t perfect.

Attention swiftly turned to rival manufacturers whose phones also dropped calls, and Apple’s market capitalisation now stands at $3.2 trillion. Though I accept, the manoeuvre was somewhat less skilfully deployed by Tim Farron.

Incidentally, I’m sorry if you felt this newsletter went on for too long and that you have such a feeble attention span.