Journalist's Notebook Yu Hong-jun's Apology, Choo Mie-ae's Apology

On the same day, there were two apologies. At the state inspection venue on the 19th.

Yu Hong-jun, director of the National Museum of Korea, walked forward to the podium on his own before the report to the Culture, Sports and Tourism Committee. He bowed at a ninety-degree angle. "The value that museum staff built through their hard work collapsed in an instant due to my grave negligence." He was addressing the so-called 'self-submission' controversy—he had recommended a piece of calligraphy he owned to the museum as the work of a patriotic independence activist and it was displayed, but it was later confirmed to be the work of a pro-Japanese collaborator. He carefully itemized his mistakes in three points: inadequate verification, failure to disclose that it was a personal collection, and hesitation to make it public even after the error was revealed. Bowing his head again toward the independence activist and museum staff, he said, "As an art historian, I am ashamed and deeply remorseful."

On the same day, Gyeonggi Province Governor Choo Mie-ae also bowed her head before the Land, Infrastructure and Transport Committee's inspection of Gyeonggi Province began. "I sincerely apologize to the many firefighters who have been hurt by my recent remarks." It was six days after she said on the 13th, "Firefighting is like the biggest troublesome financial straw." The path of those six days is the problem. The firefighters' union demanded an apology, but there was no response. An apology only came at the mortuary of a firefighter who died in a factory fire in Bucheon: "Since you are asking for an apology, I will sincerely apologize." It was an apology because they asked for one.

The distance between the two apologies is far. One came before being asked, one was forced out. One presented a detailed account of what went wrong, the other hid the content of wrongdoing behind the familiar phrasing "to those who were hurt." One was directed at those who suffered harm, the name of the independence activist, and fellow staff members; the other was directed at the cameras in the inspection chamber.

One thing must be clear. Director Yu's apology does not erase his wrongdoing. Displaying and verifying his own collection himself is a grave matter that has shaken the credibility of the National Museum, and the opposition party has called for his resignation. An apology is not an indulgence. However, in terms of the grammar of apology, he was right. Only those who know how to account for their mistakes can avoid making the same mistakes again.

On the other hand, an apology that does not account for wrongs is not learned by the organization. On the very afternoon that Governor Choo bowed her head, a fellow party member's voice was heard again saying, "Isn't it true that firefighting really sucks up the budget?" It was the day the memorial service for the fallen firefighter was being solemnly held. Because the apology did not specify what was wrong, those sitting nearby did not even learn whether it was something worthy of apologizing for.

Public officials' remarks can be accidents. However, an apology is not an accident—it is an accomplishment. Not the ninety-degree angle, but the courage to lay out one's own list of wrongs—that is the entirety of an apology. Residents of Gyeonggi Province will long remember the difference between the conditional apology that took six days and the detailed-account apology that came before being asked.