When Saying Sorry Feels Too Dangerous
Reflections on Leadership Capacity & Candour
A recent article by Patrick Dunne on “Fessology -the art and science of apologising in leadership” prompted an interesting reflection.
Patrick explores what differentiates meaningful apologies from performative ones and highlights the importance of responsibility, repair and learning in restoring trust. A timely and important leadership topic.
But this also stirred something I’ve been sitting with these past few days, especially as I finalise my paper on lessons from applied behavioural science in real world contexts - which, let’s face it, are complex and far from idealistic.
There’s something about that, that I oddly enjoy. Speaking truth to reality. Bridging the gap between the ideal and the lived, to make things better understood. To bring about change.
And as I sit here in Norway, on sabbatical, with some distance from my own daily routines and habits, I’ve been able to reflect on my experience with a little more depth and perspective. Across both my practice and Patrick’s article, there’s a question I have been cogitating.
Because while apology is often framed as a moral or communicative act, in practice it is also a capacity‑dependent one.
When harm is not obvious
Patrick notes that effective leaders bring good judgement, strong interpersonal skills, and a finely tuned antenna. I agree. Particularly because many situations requiring apology are not as clear cut as the classic examples we tend to imagine.
In more nuanced cases, harm is not always immediately visible. Impact may be unintended, systemic, cumulative, or relational rather than singular and explicit. In such contexts, arriving at the need for apology first requires self awareness and a willingness to question one’s own assumptions and impact.
That process alone asks a great deal of a person. It can challenge our ego, our sense of competence, and our need for control.
This is where the science of trust, forgiveness, and repair becomes especially relevant. Decades of research suggest that trust is rebuilt not through avoidance, minimisation, or explanation alone, but through accountability and repair (Lewicki and Bunker, 1996; Dirks, Lewicki and Zaheer, 2009). Forgiveness, similarly, is enabled by acknowledgment and responsibility, not by perfect behaviour or defensiveness (Worthington, 2006).
Trust is not restored by the absence of mistakes, but by how harm is recognised and responded to when it occurs.
Which raises something important…
What happens when responsibility isn’t taken?
Not because of bad intent, but because the individual or system itself is in self‑preservation?
Survival narrows what’s possible
Across behavioural science, neuroscience, and organisational learning, there is consistent evidence that perceived threat narrows thinking. Attention shifts toward short term stability, risk management, and self‑protection. Under these conditions, defensive behaviours become more likely (Kahneman, 2011).
Crucially, the very capacities required for apology and repair; reflection, openness, curiosity, and empathy, become much harder to access.
Research on psychological safety, most notably by Amy Edmondson, shows that people are far more likely to admit mistakes, ask questions and challenge assumptions when they feel safe enough to do so. In the absence of such safety, individuals and groups tend to protect themselves and the systems they belong to, often unconsciously (Edmondson, 2018).
Chris Argyris’ distinction between single‑loop and double‑loop learning is helpful here. In single‑loop learning, organisations make surface‑level adjustments while leaving underlying assumptions, beliefs and incentives untouched. In double‑loop learning, they examine the deeper cultural and cognitive patterns that produced the problem in the first place (Argyris & Schön, 1978).
The latter requires leaders to remain open and reflective under stress, which is far more demanding than it sounds.
Apology as a regulatory act
Increasingly, I find myself thinking about apology in terms of regulatory capacity.
The ability to acknowledge harm, apologise sincerely, or change course is not simply a communication skill or ethical stance. It is a nervous system task.
Leaders need sufficient cognitive and emotional space to tolerate discomfort, relinquish certainty, and remain curious rather than defensive. They must be able to let the ego step aside long enough to take responsibility, without collapsing into shame or shifting into blame, justification, or withdrawal (Siegel, 2012).
This is what I would describe as relational intelligence. The capacity to stay connected to oneself and others when the terrain is uncertain and the stakes are high.
As Esther Perel often reminds us, repair is not about perfection. It is about presence, humility, and responsiveness in moments of rupture.
Why systems default to surface fixes
When systems come under financial, political, or reputational pressure, regulatory capacity is easily compromised.
Organisations may default to procedural responses, cautious language, or surface level adjustments that calm the immediate alarm system and restore a sense of control, often without engaging in deeper learning. Relief comes from short‑term stabilisation rather than meaningful repair.
This does not necessarily reflect poor values or bad intent. More often, it reflects the reality that complex systems, like people, prioritise survival when they feel under threat.
Which brings us back to Patrick’s idea of Fessology - a term I genuinely love, and hope has already made its way into the Urban Dictionary!
The opportunity
Perhaps the real opportunity is not only to refine how leaders apologise once something has gone wrong, but to strengthen the conditions that make accountability and behavioural change possible in the first place.
It is neither new nor controversial to argue for cultures where speaking openly about mistakes is genuinely safe, or for systems that prioritise learning over blame. But I am interested in speaking to reality, not ideology.
Increasingly, I am convinced that the most important work we can do, for ourselves and for the systems we lead, is to develop regulatory capacity, understood not simply as stress management, but as an emotional and relational competence.
Regulatory capacity includes the ability to recognise our own emotional responses, remain present when threat systems are activated, and stay connected, to ourselves and to others, when certainty, status, or control feel at risk. It is what allows emotional and relational intelligence to remain available under pressure.
In this sense, regulation is not about suppression or control. It is about creating enough internal safety to face reality without fragmenting.
Perhaps, as safety with self increases, the safety of the systems around us can expand as well, increasing our collective capacity to hold truth, and to meet it, however uncomfortable.
In a world of growing complexity and scrutiny, this may be one of the most important leadership capabilities of all.
What do you think?