Modern conflicts: A case against forgiveness

In politics, morality and compassion has no place. To stay in power, politicians slaughter their countrymen – remember Syria, or the massacres in Egypt, or the ethnic cleansing of Muslims in Myanmar, Let’s not forget that Aung San Suu Kyi, the leader behind this ethnic cleansing of Rohingya Muslims, is a Nobel Peace Prize winner. Once the flames of war die down in these places, and global powers forge new alliances, the loss of human lives is reduced to a mere debate about the “intent“. Consequently, all the death and destruction is belittled to “collateral damage”.

The subsequent “process of reconciliation” then becomes the basis of forgiveness. The question remains: can such acts of the immense and intentional destruction even be considered for forgiveness?

A Pro-Morsi activists stands up to military vehicles during the military coup in Egypt

Let’s start with the fundamentals: Until we acknowledge that there are “unforgivable” actions, any debate on forgiveness is unjust. To forgive, or not to forgive, should utterly be at the discretion of the victim, the one wronged; and no moral absolutism shall influence a victim’s right not to forgive. When, as the third party, political philosophers promote the case for forgiveness, they, in a way, violate a victim’s right to equality and justice. The victim, thus, suffers twice; once when the crime is inflicted and again when the idea of forgiveness is imposed upon him.

The philosophy behind the “right to not forgive” requires, at least, an elementary comprehension of the politics of apology. Who is apologising? When and why is the apology being sought? If the process of forgiveness involves reconciliation, what parameters are being set thereof?

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The debate over the forgiveness is often initiated by the perpetrator or the “neutral person”, both of whom, because of their respective positions, are devoid of any genuine comprehension about the sufferings and loss a victim goes through. So, whenever political philosophers and public intellectuals approach the concept of forgiveness, they, almost always, line up their notion of morality over the principles of equality. Such debates, albeit unintentionally, demean and disrespect the suffering of a victim.

Forgiveness has always sought a victim to be more human than the perpetrator. Whenever political philosophers promote the case of forgiveness they ignore the possibility that the offender may continue to exercise violence upon this victim, or any other helpless person and may never feel apologetic.

There, however, should be a certain distinction between an individual’s act of crime and collective criminal activism, and its relation with forgiveness. It is easy to hold an individual responsible for any misconduct; but the question remains how do we bring a collective criminal entity – like a state – to justice? And even if we succeed in so doing, who will be charged? Who will we seek forgiveness from? For who? And if both the primary parties – the direct victim and the direct criminal, as in the case of the Holocaust – do not exist anymore, how, if at all, shall the tertiary parties engage in the process?

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There are, no doubt, instances, especially in the individual cases, where repentance can be responded with forgiveness. Say, someone forcibly takes my land and exploits its resources; then the person repents and returns the land. This act of repentance may amount to forgiveness. But what about the instances where the “process of return” doesn’t exist? An unapologetic Hitler killed millions of Jews. Who shall repent on his behalf? From whom shall the forgiveness be sought?

Syrian man cries near a dead body of a girl after the Assad Regime forces carried out airstrikes over in Aleppo, Syria on 30 November 2016. 45 (Jawad al Rifai /Anadolu Agency )

Then there are those cases where the direct victim may not exist while the perpetrator, especially in form of an institution, may continue to exist. Consider the case of Kashmir – and other similar cases like Aleppo, Myanmar and so on – where the perpetrator is adamant in his/her endeavour to kill. In such a situation, the perpetrator considers civilians massacres, enforced disappearances, mass rapes, and other war crimes a “legitimate use of force” to remain in power.

What justified passage shall forgiveness take so that neither shall the unapologetic perpetrator go unpunished nor the victims of the crime be betrayed? What kind of moral absolutism shall encourage a victim to wait till the oppressor is done with its crimes – until the powerful “Other” achieves all its political aspiration – and then forgive her for all the brutality? For institutionalised crime, there ought not to be forgiveness even when the perpetrator repents and pleads for it. Because forgiving the collective criminal by the tertiary victim is an act of utter betrayal to the sacrifice of the direct victim.

Not forgiving, nevertheless, doesn’t necessarily mean to punish; it is a moral position which a victim has a right to stick to. Victim’s right, thus, shall not be held hostage to perpetrator’s sentimentality or metánoia, neither shall the inequitable principles of moralism be allowed to influence a victim’s idea of forgiveness. The decision to forgive the unrepentant wrongdoer, as Jean Hampton maintains, is expressing a commitment “to see a wrongdoer in a new, more favourable light” as one who is not completely rotten or morally dead. In the absence of metánoia and any legitimate reason to reconcile with the perpetrator, forgiveness shall be seen as abhorrent.

By promoting the case of forgiveness, we are, in a way, disrespecting the fundamentals of justice – the right to be equal. Any “public intellectual” who did not live the atrocities of Nazi Germany, or the carnages of Aleppo, or the massacres of Kashmir, should not express an unsolicited judgment on behalf of the victims. Under the garb of politically motivated statement of empathy and unduly invoked moralism, this concern for the wellbeing of the “Other” snatches a victim’s right to be treated equally.

The argument of forgiveness, in itself, thus, is a “crime against the spirit” of justice.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.