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Political Forgiveness and Apology
by
Dr J. E. Hazlett Lynch
Table of Contents
The moral character of apology 7
Apologies – moral and material 18
More Greek (with some Latin thrown in) 21
Should political forgiveness be responsive to apology? 24
Appendix Two - Criminality and trauma 29
Appendix Three – Terrorist politicians accused of lying 30
Political Forgiveness and Apology.
Boswell: So, Sir, you laugh at schemes of political improvement.
Johnson: Why, Sir, most schemes of political improvement are very laughable things.[1]
Introduction
The concept of “political forgiveness” is a strange one to the ears of the biblically informed Christian. It is also strange to the ears of primary and secondary victims whose predominant desire is for justice.[2] Similarly, the notions of repentance and/or apology are difficult for perpetrators.
On the other hand, the notion of “political forgiveness” is music to the ears of the terrorist who has perpetrated serious wrongdoing against innocent people. The thought of “political forgiveness” is aligned in their minds with amnesty, and with ‘getting off’ with’ their criminal activities. It is associated with the feeling that the State has provided a level of justification for their decision to act outside the law, and for their actual deeds, and all of this without having to accept personal responsibility for their lawless actions or even showing genuine remorse for having done so[3].
However, the ideas of repentance and/or apology sound sweet in the ears of their victims, and point to a reasonable way to bring about true conciliation and lasting peace.
In this essay, I wish to examine what is meant by “apology” and by “political forgiveness”, and then to critically evaluate the extent to which political forgiveness should be responsive to apology by perpetrators. No attempt will be made to deal with the issue of “repentance” due primarily to time constraints and the relative paucity of available literature on this subject.[4]
Amnesty for truth
In establishing its Truth and Reconciliation Commission in 1996, the South African parliament adopted the formula, "Amnesty for Truth." As the weakest form of a political act akin to forgiveness, amnesty sets aside questions of guilt and legal prosecution. All that the TRC demanded of its perpetrator-witnesses was that they tell the truth about what they had done. It did not demand an apology, though some did apologise.[5] The TRC legislation assumed that both victims and perpetrators would feel safe in telling their stories, if victims are assured that the public will now really listen to them and if perpetrators are assured that they will not be prosecuted. The downside is that in this deal, the victims would get nothing but the promise of “truth” (which depends totally on what individuals are prepared to disclose), and the perpetrators would be granted amnesty. For effecting a transition to a new civil society, according to the TRC, the truth about the past can be more important than punishment of wrongdoers. However, as de Gruchy points out, the TRC, by its very constitution and in terms of its mandate, was incapable of uncovering the whole truth.[6]
The TRC amnesty process did not require perpetrators to express regret, remorse, or make apology, and very few of them made any attempt to do so. The amnesty provisions were, in fact, part of the political compromise agreed to during the very last stage of the negotiations and only later was this linked to the task of the TRC. … This political compromise was a weakness in the TRC process because from a moral point of view it was highly problematic to pardon those who show no regret.
He continues with a caveat:
Yet it must be acknowledged that it is very difficult to evaluate remorse, for how do we actually ‘see into the heart’ of the ‘other’ and determine whether or not expressions of remorse are genuine?[7]
De Gruchy’s admission that “this political compromise was a weakness in the TRC process”[8] resonates with the writer. Whilst it was important to gain some measure of ‘closure’ for both perpetrators and their victims, it is difficult to see how this can be done by means of a weak process that necessitated political compromise. If all it takes for the offended (victim) to ‘let bygones be bygones’ is to engage in a weak process involving political compromise, it adds insult to injury for victims and fails rightly to appreciate the hurt they have suffered. In fact, it cheapens their suffering – past, present and future – disregards their sacrifice, and dishonours the memory of those who died so violently.[9] It also cheapens the desired conciliation. The pardoning of the unrepentant by the State is to further humiliate those whom the perpetrator had sought, by his violent actions, and for whatever reasons, to destroy. To do this in the interests of reconciliation betrays the superficial understanding of what reconciliation is, and, as de Gruchy says correctly, betrays “an attitude far removed from a genuine desire for reconciliation,”[10] and is seen by some victims as surrender by another name.
In evaluating the extent to which political forgiveness should be responsive to apology from perpetrators, the issues of whether or not collectives can forgive other collectives, or indeed forgive individuals, and whether or not one person can forgive on behalf of another, arise. Can the dead person forgive his murderer? Clearly not. Have the living relatives any right to take it upon themselves to offer that forgiveness? It is doubtful.[11]
De Gruchy introduces a pastoral aspect to his argument when he writes,
Whether necessary for amnesty or not, an honest recognition of guilt and genuine remorse is necessary for the healing of perpetrators and makes forgiveness, and therefore the healing of victims, more probable.[12]
There are victims who would hold this position, despite the fact that extending forgiveness to terrorist murderers, or even to State personnel who acted outside the law and committed murder, would be most painful for them. What holds back this forward movement for many victims is that perpetrators have not even remotely approached the place where they are ready to ‘be sorry’ for what they have done to innocent people.
The experience of victims of terrorism shows that there is a readiness amongst some to move in the healing direction;[13] but the perpetrators have not reciprocated the movement.[14] This understandable attitude of victims has less to do with revenge but more to do with remembering and respecting their dead relations concurs with de Gruchy’s point mentioned above.[15] He employs two definitions of remorse as “a painful awakening to a reality that has been denied,” or as “the backbite of conscience.”[16] He says that “accepting responsibility for the past will in fact set us free from it’s destructive potential.”[17] This is a pastorally helpful idea for victims to take on board. The big challenge is how to get the perpetrators of terrorist violence to the place where they will feel that remorse as defined above. For without it, there is no possibility of conciliation.
The moral character of apology
How is ‘apology’ to be defined? Govier and Verwoerd hold that
“to apologise for an action is to admit that one did it, that it was wrong and harmful to the victim, and that one was responsible for doing it. It is also to commit oneself not to commit similar acts against the victim or victims again, and in general to behave in a moral way toward them.”[18]
This encapsulates clearly the moral character of apology. Given that the serious offences that were committed against the victims are also moral in character – that is, they break the moral law of God[19] – anything short of a moral apology would be insufficient. Such an apology tallies well with how victims see the wrongdoing that was done to them, for it goes some way to showing them that the offender now views his actions in precisely the same way.[20] In thus expressing sorrow for his actions, he is simultaneously acknowledging that what he had done was morally wrong. It is an admission of moral indebtedness, and an apology may be described as the first down-payment in a process of seeking to pay off that debt.
This essay is not concerned with minor indiscretions, but with attempting to sort out the effects of some of the most heinous crimes ever committed against mankind.[21] Also, the perspective that the writer is coming from is that of the practitioner, not merely as a theorist.[22]
Govier and Verwoerd highlight the central aspect of acknowledgement – the very thing the wrongdoer is doing when he makes an apology.[23] They state that this acknowledgement has three main dimensions:
- The offender is acknowledging wrongdoing himself or the group or institution he represents;
- The offender is acknowledging the moral status of the victim(s), the primary person(s) to whom he apologises; and
- The offender is acknowledging the legitimacy of feelings of resentment and anger that victims may feel in response to being wronged.[24]
This approach is significant because it helps to validate the experiences of victims, and encourage them. It also answers the demands of conscience for an apology that is sincere. These three dimensions highlight those important elements of an apology that will pave the way towards conciliation with the offender, namely, the admission to the victim that what he did was wrong and that he was totally responsible for it; that his action injured the victims, who did not deserve what he did; and that any feelings of resentment, bitterness and even revenge itself, are justified.[25] For perhaps the first time since the offence was committed, the victims to whom the apology is made have their human dignity and moral worth recognised and restored, as well as respect being given for the feelings of anger and resentment that they possess.
If the goal is the bringing together of estranged parties, such a sincere apology paves the way for this.[26] When the victim reaches the point where he understands what is happening, he is probably in the best position to make the paradigm shift that enables forgiveness to be offered by the victim to the offender. Apologies are a powerful and therefore indispensable way of “making the rough places smooth,”[27] for conciliation to take place. A real apology is one without any attempt at justification for evil actions done, and points the way to forgiveness.[28] Without real apology, it is impossible to see how forgiveness or conciliation can result.
Confession and apology
This provides sufficient grounds for questioning the efficacy and advisability of the TRCs process of granting “political forgiveness” in exchange for truth alone. Without any attempt to renounce wrongdoing by the offender, there has not been any coming together of minds on this crucial issue.[29] Until both victims and offenders come to see the offender’s actions in exactly the same way, there can be no personal agreement between them. The Gk. infinitive, omologein, to confess, means, literally, to say the same thing as, to agree with.[30] When confession is made to God, the sinner is agreeing with God about the nature of his sin and what that sin deserves.[31] When the perpetrator makes apology to the victim, the perpetrator is agreeing with the victim about the wrongness of his crime against him, about what that crime deserves, and is agreeing that what was done ought never to have been done because it was morally inexcusable. Conciliation is tantalisingly close when two enemies stand together on the same ‘holy ground.’[32] Tutu asserts that “forgiveness will follow confession and healing will happen.”[33] Tutu is, therefore, agreeing that if there is ‘no future without forgiveness’, there can be no forgiveness without confession, leading to apology, despite the fact that the TRC in South Africa did not require an apology from perpetrators.[34]
“Political forgiveness” is “a questionable alternative”[35] to retributive justice and is a concept that has benefits only for the perpetrators, but leaves victims ‘out in the cold’ and with the feeling that there is no justice for them, that they have not been treated fairly, and that the entire business has left them re-victimised and considered as worthless. Granting “political forgiveness” to perpetrators sends out a very clear message that “the victim is of little or no moral worth – that he or she does not have to be taken into account.[36]
This decision is made in post-conflict situations in an attempt to break “the vicious circle of impunity,”[37] and is described as the “nasty reality” in such situations.[38] Political agendas influence and often determine the response by the judiciary to all wrongdoing, including atrocities perpetrated against innocent civilians.
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