A Sorry State of Apologies : Nixon wouldn’t say it. Neither would Pete Rose. But is ‘fessing up really a gesture we expect?

In July of 1992, California Assembly Speaker Willie Brown praised Hillary Rodham Clinton for inspiring women “to be full participants in the power decision-making process instead of the Junior League.”

But the Junior League, an international women’s service organization with 190,000 members, was not amused. So Brown, a powerful Democrat, sent a letter to the group, explaining: “My comment was an allegorical statement.” His non-apology only deepened the insult, the organization replied in its magazine.

Brown thus assured himself a position among the ranks of public figures who demonstrate on a near-daily basis that sorry truly is the hardest word.

Particularly for politicians, athletes, tycoons, entertainers and others who live in the limelight, owning up to errors seems an insurmountable task. Experts in human behavior agree that personal accountability is on the endangered list, and say it has become far easier--and apparently entirely acceptable--to avoid answerability, or better yet, to go on the offensive against those who dare to feel offended.

There’s Sen. Robert Packwood (R-Ore.), for example, grudgingly admitting that groping and fondling a dozen of his female employees constituted “unwelcome and insensitive” actions but still firmly refusing to resign. There’s former American University President Richard Berendzen, unrepentantly ascribing the pattern of making obscene telephone calls that drove him from his job to childhood sexual abuse. (He has since written a book about his woes and hit the talk-show circuit.) Or New York’s former chief judge Sol Wachtler, portraying himself as a victim of drugs and alcohol after harassing a New York socialite and her teen-age daughter.

When a female reporter accused several of his football players of making inappropriate sexual gestures, former New England Patriots owner Victor Kiam apologized, but he also lashed out at the reporter’s own virtue and made jokes at her expense. Pete Rose, banned from baseball and booted out of a sure spot in the Baseball Hall of Fame because of a betting scandal, never did seek amends from the legions of fans he had so soundly disappointed.

Just last week, obesity specialist Dr. Neil Solomon--a best-selling author, frequent television diet commentator and syndicated newspaper columnist--reversed himself and admitted enticing a number of female patients into having sex with him. “I pay the price. There is nothing more that I can do,” Solomon said in a written statement, without apologizing.

The Friars Club was quick to apologize to all who were offended by Ted Danson’s blackface routine in New York last month, only to backpedal on the apology shortly thereafter.

Sorry was not a word then-President George Bush rushed to embrace when he backed down on his “no new taxes” vow. Rather, Bush blasted Congress for forcing him into such a nasty spot. Spiro Agnew left the vice presidency in stone-faced disgrace. And Richard Nixon? Surely “I am not a crook” must qualify among the top 10 non-apology apologies of recent history.

But USC psychology professor Jerald Jellison contends that public figures may simply be playing it smart by avoiding direct encounters with accountability. In a society rife with rising incivility, sorry is a word--and a sentiment--that lacks incentive, says Jellison, author of the book “I’m Sorry, I Didn’t Mean To, and Other Lies We Love to Tell.”

All too often, a true mea culpa translates to a swift loss of authority, Jellison pointed out.

“There’s just very little incentive to say ‘I’m sorry,’ ” he says. “And you might be able to avoid big punishments if you tough it out.”

Rather than saying, “Whoa, I said (or did) a really dumb thing, and for that I am genuinely sorry,” a public figure can walk away from almost any disgrace with a generic disclaimer--something along the lines of “I wish to extend my regrets to any groups or individuals who may have been offended by anything I may have said.” Call it the “press 1 if you were offended” line of defense.

Witness Compton Mayor Omar Bradley telling his city council not long ago that the forces who were destroying the African-American community were “having a bar mitzvah at the same time.” By way of apology, Bradley first declared, “While I apologize for the use of the word bar mitzvah , it is still true that the majority of these black exploitation films and music videos are controlled by non-African-Americans and are, in fact, controlled by people of the Jewish faith.”

Later, Bradley came back with a more heartfelt acknowledgment of error that Rabbi Marvin Hier of the Simon Wiesenthal Center said assuaged the original offense.

(Public figures often take two or three tries to get it right. Even Sen. Packwood has finally used the word sorry in a discussion of his personal exploits.)

But public figures are known to dwell in a realm of “hyper concern with image” that makes them “hypersensitive to anything negative that might come out,” says Robert Dallek, a professor of American history at UCLA who specializes in presidential biography.

Because an apology is perceived as a gesture of weakness, these high-fliers adopt a tactic known as “plausible deniability,” Dallek says--along the lines of George Bush’s “mistakes were made” defense during the Iran-Contra controversy.

“It’s the c.y.a. approach”--for “cover your (fanny)”--and, Dallek says, it’s all about preserving credibility.

Falling to bended knee also means admitting to fallibility, an unattractive quality among the born-again tough guys who populate most of Powerhouse America, says UC Berkeley philosophy professor John Searle.

“I think it has to do with self-esteem and vanity,” says Searle, who has examined the semantics of apology and accountability.

“You have to lower yourself to say ‘I’m sorry,’ ” and therefore run the risk of affronting one’s own pride and self-love, Searle says.

And in an age of such rampant self-absorption, he observes, “people are desperate for their poor vanity.”

For public figures and for everyday folks alike, contemporary American culture does little to reinforce the need for an apology, says Wendy Kaminer, author of “I’m Dysfunctional, You’re Dysfunctional.”

“Our very shallow notions of authority and the need to feel that you are in authority make this a culture in which you succeed by appearing to be in command. . . . The reactions people get in the workplace when they admit to mistakes” just don’t make it worthwhile to do so, Kaminer says.

And although it may be tempting to surmise that this trait is worse now than it ever has been, and is a clear indication that the demise of Western civilization is imminent, Kaminer contends that “going on the attack when you have done something outrageous is a basic human impulse, and it has always been there.”

But etiquette expert Letitia Baldridge takes a more generous view. The non-apology apology has become prevalent, says Baldridge, who has recently come out with a new edition of her “Complete Guide to Executive Manners,” because “people can’t express their emotions anymore. They’re really hogtied. And they think it’s wimpish and muffy to apologize.”

What a shame, Baldridge says, because “of course, it’s the greatest thing in the world if you can apologize and then laugh about what you did.”

Admitting to vincibility is “a leadership act,” Baldridge says, recalling the way President John F. Kennedy’s popularity shot up when he took responsibility for the abortive Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba in 1962.

“A person who can apologize is a much stronger person,” Baldridge says.

But because not every living mortal shares this position, the greeting card industry has stepped in to make life--and the process of apologizing--easier. Amanda Kleiboeker, a spokesperson for Hallmark Cards, says that in a 1992 marketing survey, 85% of adults polled said they found it difficult to say “I’m sorry.”

Hallmark promptly responded with Windows, a new line of cards with lengthy prose messages that appear to be in hand-written script. Apology cards tailored to almost any situation occupy a significant portion of the Windows line, Kleiboeker says.

At a time when the thought of saying sorry moves most of us to muteness, these cards “are doing really well,” Kleiboeker says.

“Really, really well, actually.”