ONE THEORY STILL LINGERING in this twilight of the Me-Generation holds that apology is never necessary. If the results of an act can be traced to malicious intent, the reasoning goes, then apology stands naked as the tribute vice pays to virtue. If, on the other hand, no harm is meant, then apology is equally gratuitous.

Sorry, Repentance and redemption remain at the center of the Judeo-Christian ethic, and one can construct a neat political universe based on the phenomenon of apologia. Some points on the spectrum of political apologists, ranging from Left to Right, include Noam Chomsky. Anthony Lewis '48. Henry Kissinger '50, and Norman Podhoret. Without passing judgement on the issues for which these apologists apologize, or the calculations of interest lurking beheath, one can safely conclude that the art of apology persists.

Which is not necessarily a bad thing. What is bad, and dangerous, is obfuscation and distortion employed in the service of apology, no matter how sincere the intent.

UNDERGRADUATES HERE have recently been fed a few abject lessons in forced apology. The Harvard Corporation, embarrassed by the consequences of its divestiture of holding in banks which make direct loans to the repressive regime in South Africa, issued an apology to the business community and tried to pay it's tepid symbol of opposition to apartheid. Pressed by students, the Corporation held back its policy change--but only temporarily. If history is an accurate indicator.

This embarrassment is not newfound: the University's divestment of $50 million in Citicorp stock was kept secret a year ago, presumably for fear of alienating alumni and investors with much at stake in South Africa. Before the disclosure of the sale. The Corporation hoped to vitiate the intent of the policy, which was demanded by students in 1978 and designed to use the University's prestige to undermine South Africa's police state. Logic would suggest that the real apology is owed to the majority of South Africa's citizens for Harvard's hand in perpetuating an illegitimate and brutal government.

Another annoying issue is the recent referendum on a new student constitution. Though more than half the student body failed to vote "yes" in a flawed campaign, the constitution is now entrenched as the supposedly legitimate expression of student desires. The subsequent apologies proffered after the fact to justify the vote's results have proved rather limp.

Associate Dean John E. Dowling '57, for instance, noted on the day results became final that "If any national candidate got three-fourths of 58 percent, it would be the greatest landslide in history." But national elections are held on one day only and require voters both to register in advance and to make an effort to reach the polls. By contrast, the referendum on the constitution took place in House dining halls over three days, and it involved little more than extracting a pen from one's pocket. Moreover, in national elections the campaign is long, and issues are discussed. While the self-styled framers of the constitution spent an inordinate amount of time on details, they spend very time taking neir case to the public, focusing instead on flyers is which feature never slogans like. "It's Your Ass."

Viewed in contrast to the Student Assembly's birth four year ago, both the plebiscite process and the outcome acquire an ironic aspect. In the spring of 1978, 85 percent of undergraduates voted in a referendum on the assembly, with 71 percent favoring it. But the Faculty refused to recognized the body's legitimacy because it did not have a hand in the formulation of a new government. Now, a student council with support from 43 percent of undergraduates is deemed legitimate. Assuming that most of the meaningful issues the nascent council will confront will bring it into conflict with administrators or the Faculty, the unctious desire to appease both these groups shown by the constitution's framers at every step casts doubt on the new council's potential for furthering student interests.

This problem stems from the constitution's content. Hand-in-hand goes the framers' alarming inability to persuade a majority to vote "yes." For the professed enemies of apathy, the two-thirds-approval/50-percent-turnout clause allowed a way out. As long as they met the minimum requirements, the "yes" forces could afford to ignore the will of the majority which preferred, through voting "no" or abstaining, to avoid supporting the new council.

Why did this landmark vote entail such a perverse set of requirements for passage? Why did advocates of the constitution help count the votes? Why did some voting tables go unattended? Despite the obvious improprieties, no apologies have been forthcoming from the "yes" advocates except to justify a tainted victory. Logic would suggest that the real apologia, is owed to the majority of undergraduates and that another election be held.

THE MISUSE OF THE CONCEPT of apology has become a hallmark of the Reagan Administration. Often, the President's pronouncements take the form of a staunch refusal to apologize, perhaps born of a desire to cultivate a tough-guy image. Usually, Reagan emboldens his notions with an appeal to morality; it is right to spend injudiciously on defense while slashing entitlements; it is right to cut taxes; it is right to repel the pervasive Soviet/Marxist threat. Any apology reveals itself to Reagan as a sign of weakness.

But in holding the Administration accountable on it own terms, the need for apology emerges as overwhelming. The call for a balanced budget has evolved into the largest deficit in history. The determination to counter Soviet power has eroded into lukewarm sanctions in response to the Polish martial law regime. The insistence on a strong Israel and the carrying out of the Camp David accords has failed to avert flirtations with autocratic Arab regimes and failed to prompt a U.S.-led initiative for negotiations on Palestinian autonomy.

Far-Rightists are saying this, of course. That Reagan has resisted their cloying complaints offers little encouragement. Instead, his blithe displays of intransigence fly in the face of prudence without serving the cause of altruism. But fusing to take a step back, Reagan has distorted the end of apology, content to put an end to apology.

In a country where the unbridled pursuit of self-interest has led to the spread of what Michael Walzer recently termed "the ideology of selfishness," the moderating force of apology appears as salient as ever. When those who govern or administer use apologias for the opposite reason--for the defense of self-interest or the defense of illegitimacy--they undermine morality.

The obligation to apologize, which applies both in Cambridge and in Washington, provides strength for a healthy society. The compulsion to honesty is much rarer but at least as important.