In December 2025, the parliament of Victoria — Australia’s second-most populous state — delivered a formal apology to First Peoples for laws and policies that “took land, removed children, broke families, and tried to erase culture.”
The motion, introduced by Premier Jacinta Allan as a milestone in Victoria’s ongoing treaty process, passed by a vote of 56-27. The opposition coalition voted against it and has pledged to repeal the underlying treaty legislation within 100 days if it wins November’s state election.
The apology was barely out of the premier’s mouth before its credibility was contested.
For Canadians watching from a distance, the parallels are hard to miss. And the pattern is the point: across democracies, the cost of apologizing badly can exceed the cost of staying silent.
The apology paradox
In my research on government apologies, the explanation is psychological as much as political. Governments apologize to restore their own trustworthiness, but apologies only succeed when they focus squarely on rehumanizing victims.
That inversion is the apology paradox, and it has practical implications for whether reconciliation is successful.
The canonical case is Willy Brandt’s 1970 Kniefall, when the West German chancellor unexpectedly knelt before the Warsaw Ghetto memorial. The silent gesture is still remembered 55 years on, long after Germany’s formal verbal apologies have faded. It was well-received because Brandt absorbed a political cost without trying to extract a benefit.
(AP Photo)
Analyses on political apologies have found effective apologies function as a costly signal: when governments sacrifice something tangible, such as political capital, money or policy commitments, victimized communities see genuine contrition.
Other research identifies four ingredients of a complete apology: acknowledging the wrong, accepting responsibility, expressing remorse and committing to concrete reparations. Most government apologies fail that test.
Consider F.W. de Klerk’s 1997 statement to South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
On its face, it was comprehensive: “Apartheid was wrong. I apologize…” Under questioning, however, de Klerk distanced National Party leadership from torture, murder and rape by state agents, and did not commit to any material amends.
Victims rejected it. De Klerk sought a position of pride rather than shame: the apology tried to rehumanize the apologizer without addressing what victims had suffered. That is almost always a sign of a sub-standard apology.
Learning from Canada
(CP PHOTO/Tom Hanson)
Canada has its own experiences with weak apologies. In 1998, Jean Chretien’s government responded to findings about residential schools with a Statement of Reconciliation read by junior minister Jane Stewart at a lunchtime ceremony. The prime minister was absent.
The content was not the problem; the symbolism told Indigenous Canadians the government was not serious. A decade later, Stephen Harper apologized in Parliament, alongside a $1.9-billion settlement, an independent assessment process and a Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
Harper publicly credited a political rival, NDP Leader Jack Layton, with persuading him, an admission that surprised observers. Harper’s earlier apology to Chinese Canadians for the Head Tax went further, reframing Chinese immigrants’ “back-breaking labour” as essential to building the country.
THE CANADIAN PRESS/Tom Hanson
The Head Tax apology was generally received positively across Chinese Canadian and broader Canadian communities. However, some Chinese Canadians remained skeptical of the government’s motives and focused on whether the structural disadvantages rooted in the Head Tax era had truly been addressed.
In other words, victimized groups wait to see whether words will lead to real change. It is also important to acknowledge that the Head Tax was a limited grievance involving a defined group of victims, while residential schools were part of an ongoing colonial relationship with effects that endure today. Some apologies are therefore far more difficult than others.
When apologies face criticism
That difficulty is amplified by a nationalism trap. For citizens who strongly identify with national identity, acknowledging past injustice can feel like personal indictment, fuelling backlash that erodes the apology in victims’ eyes.
Brandt faced exactly this as conservative opposition questioned his patriotism. In Australia, Victoria’s coalition opposition has framed the First Peoples treaty as a divisive imposition, and that criticism, not the apology’s wording, may determine whether it survives.
There is a structural risk to further consider. Promising to do better raises the standard the apologizer will be judged against. When Canada ultimately failed to implement the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s recommendations, when violence against Indigenous women continued, when over-representation in the criminal justice system persisted, Harper’s from years earlier apology lost credibility. Trust, once broken twice, becomes exponentially harder to restore.
Read more:
Broken system: Why is a quarter of Canada’s prison population Indigenous?
Hence the paradox: an apology must be costly to improve the reputation of the apologizer, but an apology made with that benefit in mind lowers the cost and signals self-interest. The best way to apologize involves making the victims the primary focus, not the apologizing state. Apologies that prioritize rehumanizing victims prove more effective at rehumanizing apologizers too.
That is the test Victoria now faces, and one Canada keeps facing. The Victorian premier’s words last December were strong. Whether that apology leads to meaningful change depends less on what was said than on whether the treaty institutions survive November. Canadians should watch carefully.
