Featuring 161 televised political apologies, the work shows politicians from around the world – including presidents, heads of state and cabinet ministers – offering apologies for their nations’ various crimes against humanity.
The installation, on show at Empty Gallery in Tin Wan, Aberdeen, as part of Hong’s solo exhibition “Apologies and Other Regrets”, was first presented by the artist in 2012.
Hong came up with the idea after encountering many Chinese people who claimed that Japan never apologised for the second Sino-Japanese war. At the time, he was interviewing and conducting research on the victims of political and biological warfare for his documentaries.
“Originally, I would correct them and say that Japan actually did apologise a few times,” he says. “But the Chinese I encountered never believed me, so I started compiling these apologies, starting with Japan, and then it spread to other nations.”
Year after year, the artist updated Apologies with new recordings. Today it provides a snapshot of modern history while accounting for some of the world’s most egregious atrocities.
“I’m a completist,” Hong says of his decision to include every relevant apology he can find. “That’s why it’s over seven hours long.”
For visitors, these seven hours offer much to dissect and consider. First, there is the inherently performative nature of these political apologies – often, they feature a sense of false sincerity, passive language, and narrative arcs that appeal to people’s emotions.
“Most of the apologies, to me, are bulls***,” Hong says. “This is just the truth. Not all, but most, deal with unpardonable crimes against humanity.
“I doubt there are politicians who just feel bad about something and want to apologise for it […] The point of an apology [is] to gain political capital.”
If visitors watch Apologies from start to finish they will see that Western and liberal nations tend to apologise more, given the need for their politicians to sustain widespread public support and thus maintain influence. But other nations have become increasingly willing to apologise as well, Hong explains.
Over time, the apologies have got longer and more polished; the subject matter addressed has also evolved, he says.
“There is a liberal progression of topics that can be addressed and can be apologised for,” he says. “When Germany was first apologising for the Holocaust, just a few decades after World War II, one would never think of apologising to African-Americans, to Native Americans, or to the LGBTQIA+ [community].”
Of interest is not just the countries that choose to apologise but the ones that do not.
“I don’t have any state apology from Vietnam, and there are no apologies from Thailand, which is a monarchy – which is fascinating,” Hong says.
“Thailand is a developing country with human rights abuses every day. You’d think they have a lot to apologise for, but Thailand never has, not that I know of.”
And while the frequency of apologies has accelerated over the years, Hong is generally critical of them because they rarely lead to change. “It’s not the apology that’s so important. It’s the accountability and justice that’s more important.”
Aside from Apologies, Hong is also showing Stabbed in the Back, a series of four sculptures that portray the state of betrayal.
Inspired by the British fable of the Sword in the Stone, the sculptures each feature an artificial styrofoam rock being stabbed by a real bayonet used during the second Sino-Japanese war, which Hong sourced from collectors and Japanese soldiers.
“This relates to Apologies, too – how governments are supposed to protect their citizens, but in the end, oppress them,” he says.
“I thought more about literally being stabbed in the back, so about a best friend gossiping on you, a spouse divorcing you, a family member betraying you, and how this idea of trust and betrayal becomes a universal experience that we all have that doesn’t necessarily result in death, but still can result in psychological trauma.”
“Apologies and Other Regrets”, Empty Gallery, 18-19/F, Grand Marine Centre, 3 Yue Fung Street, Tin Wan, Tue-Sat 11am-7pm. Until August 17.