Communication and Reconciliation:
Moving towards Embrace
by Jed Stone
Copyright
2011 Jed Stone
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords
Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal
enjoyment only;
it may not be re-sold or given away to other
people.
If you would like to share this book with another
person,
please purchase an additional copy for each
recipient.
If you’re reading this book and did not purchase
it,
or it was not purchased for your use only,
then please
return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you
for respecting my work.
Contents
Chapter
1 – Identity and reconciliation
Chapter
2 – Forgiveness and repentance
Chapter
3 – A relational model of reconciliation
Chapter
4 – Caveat
Chapter
5 – What does forgiveness mean?
Chapter
6 – Is forgiveness religious or secular?
Chapter
7 – Forgiveness in Judeo-Christian theology
Chapter
8 – Forgiveness and letting go
Chapter
9 – Forgiveness and justice
Chapter
10 – Forgiveness and self-giving
Chapter
11 – Absolution
Chapter
12 – Mutuality
Chapter
13 – Repentance Acknowledgment and conviction
Chapter
14 – Repentance and change
Chapter
15 – Letting go and surrender
Chapter
16 – Repentance and civil society
Chapter
17 – Repentance and reconciliation
Chapter
18 – Repentance a pre-requisite for forgiveness?
Chapter
19 – Repentance in Judaism
Chapter
20 – Apology
Chapter 21
– A dynamic relational model of reconciliation
Chapter
22 – Cycles of awareness
Chapter
23 – Victim-centred cycle
Chapter
24 – Transgressor-centred cycle
Chapter
25 – The interface of awareness and embrace
Chapter
26 – Spirals and momentum
Chapter
27 – Narrative at the heart of the process
Chapter
28 – Narrative and the reconciliation of nations
Chapter
29 – The theology of a relational model
Chapter
30 – Strategic implications – beyond conflict resolution
Chapter
31 – Telling stories
Chapter
32 – Mediating narrative
Chapter
33 – Narrative in South African reconciliation
Chapter
34 – The effects of telling the story
Chapter
35 – Narrative at the heart of co-existence
Chapter
36 – Conclusion
Appendix
1 – A relational model of reconciliation
Appendix
2 – The spiral of repentance
Appendix
3 –
The spiral of forgiveness
References
Bibliography
Chapter 1
Identity and reconciliation
Human beings are social creatures; we thrive when our social conditions are conducive to wholesome relationships. The 16th century philosopher, metaphysical poet and Dean of St Paul’s Cathedral London, John Donne famously wrote,
no man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main,
a reference to common needs and aspirations. We are born for one another. Death or diminishment of one member of society is a loss to us all. As modern communications bring far-flung corners of the world closer to home, Donne’s words are a timely reminder of the fragile nature of global coexistence
any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore do not ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee (1).
The last century has brought more than its fair share of death and diminishment, and, with weapons of mass destruction readily available, (2) the prospects for the next century are no better. Human society is still in desperate need of learning how to live together, how to negotiate conflict, how to be healed and reconciled. Reconciliation studies should be renamed ‘studies in the survival of the human race’ to focus the attention.
At the heart of our relationships is a need to belong, to secure the locus of our identity, to discover the boundaries that define our group (3). This is a fluid objective, the goal posts are forever changing, as individuals mature at different rates and the societies with which we are engaged are transformed around us. The unpredictable nature of change, and the simple fact of being different, guarantees conflict, and therefore the ability to forgive, to repent, and to be reconciled is essential for personal wholeness and harmonious co-existence with others.
Chapter 2
Forgiveness and repentance
This book begins with an exploration of contemporary issues in forgiveness and repentance. These are complex multi-dimensional processes and I am conscious that none of the issues raised are explored in enough depth. I hope, however, that they are exposed in enough detail to provide a sufficiently convincing theoretical foundation to support the exposition of a dynamic relational model of reconciliation in chapter three. The research unearthed one interesting anomaly in both academic and religious literature about forgiveness and repentance. The literature on forgiveness is expansive and substantially greater than the literature about repentance—even discussions about reconciliation focus more on forgiveness than repentance. I suspect that the reason for this is the uncomfortably religious notion of repentance, which is discussed more fully later.
Forgiveness is of paramount importance for human society. Its importance, according to theologian Moroslav Volf, lies in its ability to bring to a halt the ‘spiral of vengeance’ by embracing the violence, pain and injustice of the remembered past and transcending the immediate demand for justice (4).
Volf’s ‘theological reflection on social agents’ provides a significant insight to the moral complexity of our world. Writing as a native Croatian he argues convincingly that issues of identity and difference are central to peaceful co-existence, and reconciliation lies at the heart of the ability of human beings to live alongside one another. If understanding the role of forgiveness in human relationship dynamics is essential, then equal consideration must be given to the role repentance plays in the process. Forgiveness and repentance are conjoined; they are two sides of the coin of broken relationship—independent but interconnected, complementary dynamics that energize the process of reconciliation. Reconciliation requires both.
Most of the confusion surrounding reconciliation and its relationship with forgiveness and repentance arises because it is a broad and fertile concept that readily germinates fresh ideas, but the words used to express those ideas are imprecise, vague and ambiguous. Part of the problem is that words are an expression of individual experience, as theologian Rodney L. Petersen rightly states:
The terms of forgiveness [repentance and reconciliation] are shaped by our perception of the past and the future and given form in our language (5)
Unfortunately, Petersen then proceeds to prove the point by confusing forgiveness and reconciliation, suggesting that forgiveness is the end result of reconciliation, which I hope this thesis will demonstrate cannot be the case. Forgiveness must come first in order that restored relationship can lead to reconciliation (6). Addressing some of these areas of misunderstanding is of vital importance to understanding the process of reconciliation; it not simply an argument about semantics. Most of the intellectual confusion surrounding forgiveness, repentance and reconciliation arises over the careless use of words. Language is the highway to a clearer narrative, or a cul-de-sac to obscurity (7).
Chapter 3
A relational model for reconciliation
Reconciliation becomes possible when forgiveness and repentance meet. Chapter three proposes a three-dimensional model for the process of reconciliation that demonstrates how the dynamics of forgiveness and repentance are its life source. It highlights the key social mechanism that facilitates or hinders reconciliation.
The importance of reconciliation can be seen at micro and macro levels of relationship, in inter-personal relationships and in political systems. This breadth of application should come as no surprise if mindful of Volf’s statement that the sinful structures in which we find ourselves are responsible for our formation (8) These systems, in which we are socialised and shaped as we ‘live, move and have [our] being’, (9) can be evil and instrumental in perverting our thinking to make it wrong and twisted (10). How much community violence has its origin in longstanding social memories (11)?
The innate bond between individual and society means that demolishing malign influences and attitudes in the personal realm, through inter-personal reconciliation, does not break the power of unjust socio-economic and political systems. In order for reconciliation to leaven the unleavened bread at a macro level, there is a need for social structures to be redeemed. This begs the question whether political systems or social structures can realistically repent and forgive, and the nature of the mechanisms that would facilitate reconciliation at a macro level.
If, as biblical scholar Walter Wink argues, ‘violence is the ethos of our times’(12) and its antithesis is reconciliation, then forgiveness and repentance are crucial factors in breaking its hold in the world. They make it possible for those answerable for socio-economic and political systems in their current manifestation to accept responsibility and seek forgiveness for the sins of the past, and make a commitment to initiate change—the myth of redemptive reconciliation breaking the bondage of the myth of redemptive violence (13). None of these structural changes can take place, however, until the diverse groups that constitute society, and the individuals that make up groups, grapple with the problem of reconciliation at a personal and interpersonal level.
This suggests a socio-political reading of the words ‘forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us, (14) acknowledging that the sins we need forgiving are partly a product of the political, economic and social systems that have sinned against us in our socialisation. Forgiveness is best understood in the light of our own weaknesses; it is best served with the humility of repentance. Forgiveness and repentance enable individuals to come to terms with the past, including the forces that have shaped them for good or evil. Working together, they enable reconciliation.
There are difficulties in trying to develop a theoretical model of reconciliation. Why is it that reconciliation seems to be considered only in the worse scenarios— following tragic death or violence? If it is as essential to human co-existence as many scholars suggest, then it is of the highest importance at all levels of human relationship, from cradle to grave, interpersonal and corporate. A model that only applies to reconciliation following violent separation is not a universal model. Is there a model that applies equally across the whole spectrum of separation from best scenario to worse case scenario? If so, this is a model around which social policy can be formed.
Chapter 4
Caveat
With this universal application in mind, I am painfully aware of the limitations of the model I propose—certainly it does not do justice to issues of power and the ‘dynamics of power relations’ that pervade all relationship dynamics, perhaps especially forgiveness (15). It does not give the depth of exploration that they rightly deserve to important issues like truth and justice and their relationship to the process of reconciliation. Nevertheless, although the proposed model is basic, and merely a pointer towards a new paradigm for understanding the dynamics of reconciliation, chapter four makes some suggestions of how it might be elevated out of the interpersonal arena to have implications at the macro level for developing a constructive public awareness that facilitates reconciliation.
Chapter 5
What does ‘forgiveness’ mean?
The first task in considering how forgiveness functions in the context of reconciliation is to engage with the terminology in order to determine exactly what the word forgiveness means. This is harder than it sounds because the word is used inconsistently to cover a wide range of meaning, including forgiveness, apology, repentance, restitution, absolution, and even reconciliation itself. Sometimes eminent scholars use the word carelessly. For example, theologian Donald Shriver upholds the right of African Americans to
withhold some measure of forgiveness until they are dealt a fuller measure of just reparation’, (16)
correctly distinguishing between the process of forgiveness and the element of restitution that more often than not distinguishes true repentance. As he continues, however, to highlight the suspicions of African Americans that the patient forbearance of their ancestors has borne little fruit in terms of actual economic and social restitution, he credits economic stress in the nineties with creating a climate amongst white middle class Americans that allows them to be deceived
into thinking that there is no longer anything to forgive; the statute of limitations on forgiveness has run out, and now all Americans are responsible for what happens to them (17).
He is now talking more directly about restitution—white Americans are no longer willing to compensate ‘America’s most damaged citizens’ for the racist policies that have kept them impoverished and economically excluded, because the financial cost hurts. Restitution is a product of repentance, not of forgiveness.
The literature on forgiveness elicits many other examples, but there is not scope in a thesis of this size to pursue them (18)
Does it matter if words are used imprecisely? Yes—careless use of words can lead to confusion and misunderstanding amongst those who are trying to make sense of the process of reconciliation at the ‘sharp end’. It leaves open the possibility of deliberate manipulation of meaning to further particular religious, political or sectarian objectives—a practice honed to perfection by preachers, politicians and journalists. If narrative is the central dynamic at the heart of reconciliation, as I shall argue later, it is important to reach beyond the words spoken to be absolutely clear what people are actually saying.
Gordon Wilson, whose daughter Marie died of injuries sustained in the IRA bombing of the war memorial at Enniskillen on Remembrance Day in November 1987, was widely reported in the media (19) for his vocal expression of forgiveness in an interview on the BBC the day following the event. In an emotionally moving interview he said,
I have lost my daughter and we shall miss her, but I bear no ill will. I bear no grudge. Dirty sort of talk is not going to bring her back to life. She was a great wee lassie . . . She was a pet, but she’s dead . . . I shall pray for those people tonight and every night (20)
Gordon Wilson did not use the words forgive or forgiveness during his interview; nevertheless, the media immediately interpreted his words to mean forgiveness (21)
In one sense, this ascription of the meaning of forgiveness to Gordon Wilson is correct in that both the media and the public picked up something in his attitude that they instinctively identified with forgiveness. As the President of the Irish Republic, Mary McAleese later wrote:
His words shamed us, caught us off guard. They sounded so different from what we expected and what we were used to. They brought stillness with them. They carried a sense of the transcendent into a place so ugly we could hardly bear to watch (22).
Indeed, Wilson’s exemplary forbearance under extreme stress, evidenced in gracious words of conciliation and refusal to bear ill will, bear testimony to a willingness to forgive. It was a moment of quiet grace in the midst of the storm. But the immediate attribution of the meaning of forgiveness to his words had two incompatible consequences for the process of reconciliation. Politicians, journalists, and a wide public audience nationally and internationally received it with tremendous respect and acclaim.
Locally, however, it was a different story. Many people found it difficult to come to terms with any concept of forgiving those who had been responsible for the terrible atrocity they had experienced because there was no evidence of repentance on the part of the perpetrators, although the Provisional IRA did later express ‘deep regret’ for the loss of life (23).
Jim Dixon, a member of the Presbyterian Church injured in the bombing is representative of some of the views expressed:
It annoyed me badly to hear that [Gordon Wilson] forgave the IRA. What right had he? . . . They had committed a sin against God . . . God only forgives a repenting man (24).
Others were less directly critical, acknowledging that Wilson had a right to forgive on his own behalf, but not on behalf of others (25). In contrast to many commentators, Gladys Gault had no objections to Gordon Wilson’s interview because she heard him correctly,
He never said he forgave. Has everybody else started saying that? To me it is morally indefensible to forgive people who aren’t sorry (26).
The reaction to Gordon Wilson’s words highlights one of the problems with the popular concept of forgiveness—it means different things to different people. The crass journalism that sticks a microphone under someone’s nose and asks, ‘Do you forgive them?’ is one indicator of a general misunderstanding of the meaning of forgiveness, and the process in which forgiveness operates (27). This practice is particularly offensive because it transfers moral responsibility from transgressor to victim by making unconditional forgiveness a moral obligation, with or without any suggestion of remorse, apology, or repentance on the part of the transgressor. As Robert Schreiter eloquently expresses it,
[it does] not take into account the very human dynamics of pain and suffering’ (28).
This appetite for an immediate verbal expression of forgiveness leaves no room for time to provide a broader perspective. It is ignorant of the possibility that forgiveness may not arrive on the spot in the immediate aftermath of an atrocity, but only potentially after understanding has dawned and empathy developed. Forgiveness is not simply an emotional reaction; it is subordinate to the will (29).
The correct answer to the journalist’s question is, ‘Ask me again after a period of time’. Time during which exposure to the suffering of ‘the other side’ and understanding of the circumstances that have driven them to the point of inflicting pain widens the perspective and empathetically informs the seemliness of forgiveness. We are most ready to forgive others when we are mindful of our own shortcomings (30). Humility originates from a perspective that sees human moral capacity for good and evil as no respecter of persons. Mea culpa.
There are some impeccable role models for delayed forgiveness. Schreiter observes that, contrary to common perception, the New Testament does not record Jesus or Stephen forgiving those that are putting them to death (31). Rather they call upon God to forgive, not because of any personal antipathy to forgiveness, but because
only God has an ample enough perspective to encompass the enormity of the evil that is . . . being perpetrated (32).
More recent killings of the innocent in Dresden, Hiroshima, Vietnam, Enniskillen, Omagh, Bosnia, New York, Bali and countless other locations testify to the continued need for God’s ample perspective until vision is cleared, humanity is restored, and ‘evil can be comprehended and forgiveness can occur’ (33).
Notwithstanding the part that time and comprehension must play in enabling forgiveness to mature, the vanguard of forgiveness is invaluable in the immediate aftermath of an atrocity, especially the willingness to forswear vengeance. The declaration of gracious intent is the beginning of the narrative that leads to repentance and signposts the pathway to reconciliation.
Chapter 6
Is forgiveness religious or secular?
Leaving aside sloppy journalism, at the heart of the wider confusion of the word forgiveness is the imprecision of language. Different academic disciplines use the word incongruently, raising the question, is forgiveness a theological, sociological, anthropological, psychological or political concept, or all of the above. This book cannot pursue the wider linguistic contribution to the obfuscation of forgiveness, but it does briefly consider the theological significance of the word in Hebrew and early Christian thought because of its close religious association.
The assumption by some writers that forgiveness is fundamentally a religious concept is itself a contributory factor in the confusion. The correlation may be persuasive, but there are arguments for a different interpretation. Hannah Arendt was one of the greatest political philosophers of the twentieth century, writing from a secular perspective. She paints a grim picture of a soulless world with no potential for forgiveness:
Without being forgiven, released from the consequences of what we have done, our capacity to act would, as it were, be confined to a single deed from which we could never recover; we would remain the victims of its consequences forever, not unlike the sorcerer's apprentice who lacked the magic formula to break the spell. Without being bound to the fulfilment of promises, we would never be able to keep our identities; we would be condemned to wander helplessly and without direction in the darkness of each man's lonely heart, caught in the contradictions and equivocalities—a darkness which only the light shed over the public realm through the presence of others, who confirm the identity between the one who promises and the one who fulfils, can dispel (34).
Arendt attributes the discovery of the importance of forgiveness in human affairs to Jesus of Nazareth, but argues that its conception and articulation in a specific Judeo-Christian religious context does not preclude its significance in a ‘strictly secular sense’ (35). However, in order to make forgiveness acceptable in the public arena Arendt re-clothes the Christian apolitical unworldly emphasis of transcendent love for the transgressor in the Aristotelian language of philia politike as respect, a kind of “friendship” without intimacy and without closeness (36).
Arendt’s conviction that forgiveness is a fundamental human attribute essential to the wellbeing of society is particularly important because she writes as a secular philosopher, not from a religious perspective. Although forgiveness and repentance have significant roots in most religious traditions their impact is primarily experienced in the world as women, men and the societies through which their social relations are ordered, are reconciled to one another, mirroring the divine model in which God, in Jesus Christ, is reconciling the world to himself (37). If politics is concerned with the interrelationships of human beings then forgiveness is central to the political order, but not in a sentimental ‘easy-going acceptance of what is, a whitewashing tolerance’ (38). Forgiveness is one of the essential elements that enable imperfect human beings to live together in a fragmented world where justice can never be fully realised and inequality and unfairness will never be eradicated. It does not have to be pretty. The forgiveness that is crucial in politics is the functional kind described by theologian Willmer Haddon:
It has to be a practicable policy in which what is wrong is reckoned with, but forgivingly rather than punitively. Forgiveness is not reconciliation on any terms but takes form in the agreement to work together a political system which expresses the will to forgive, is sustained by forgiveness and encourages and enables men to enter into it (39).
This is no easy task. Even when clothed in secular language, political thinkers eschew authentic experiences that may have a religious connotation, like forgiveness, because they consider them ‘unrealistic or inadmissible in the public realm’ (40). This requires a wider discussion about the function and character of moral frameworks like forgiveness, repentance and reconciliation outside of religion. Theologians like Karl Barth locate the justification for ethics in God’s decrees; philosophers like Plato take the view that belief in God cannot be the basis for morality (41). More recently, Donald Shriver convincingly argues for a systematic ethical foundation for forgiveness in politics, maintaining that, in order for this to happen, there needs to be a disassociation from the ‘vocabulary of religion’,
if forgiveness is to escape its religious captivity and enter the ranks of ordinary political virtues, it has to acquire more precise, dynamic and politically contexted definition than it has usually enjoyed (42).
This antipathy towards morality with a ‘religious ring’ to it lies at the heart of Susan Dwyer’s adamant rejection of forgiveness as an element of reconciliation (43), although she makes a valid point about the ambiguous and vague definition of forgiveness and the weak conceptualisation of reconciliation. Dwyer advises against totally ignoring the ‘powerful religious overtones’ associated with reconciliation, but limits her theological parameters to ‘a sort of faith—construed in broadly psychological terms’ (44) . What she means by this is not made clear because, although ‘reconciliation does require faith’, this is not necessarily ‘faith in a divine being’.45 It appears to be some sort of wishful thinking for a bright future brought about by an ‘acquired psychological disposition that might be likened to faith’(46)
Dwyer’s approach is acceptable if perceived as partly pragmatic—taking forgiveness out of reconciliation reduces the process to a simple ‘epistemological task’, which opens the possibility of realistic management of the process by third parties. This definition of reconciliation, ‘conceptually independent of forgiveness’, (47) has the advantage of making possible reconciliation for people who reject a religious element to the process and also eases the path of reconciliation in situations where forgiveness may be beyond the capacity of those transgressed against. However, Dwyer’s model of reconciliation substantially lowers the threshold of expectation, so that reconciliation becomes little more than ‘a process whose aim is to lessen the sting of a tension’(48). This is considerably weaker than a theologically framed understanding of reconciliation, and leaves no room for any concept of reconstructing relationships, but it leaves Dwyer free to explore reconciliation at a more basic level, simply as a matter of restoring coherence to disrupted narratives.
Chapter 7
Forgiveness in Judaeo-Christian theology
Judeo-Christian theology is rich in the language of forgiveness, if somewhat less expansive in terms of reconciliation, and the wide variety of interpretation requires this discussion to focus on a select few theological concepts that have direct relevance to the relational model of reconciliation proposed in chapter three.
According to Biblical scholar William Vine the Greek verb αφιημι (aphiémi) most often translated ‘to forgive’ in the New Testament means primarily, to send forth, send away (απο, from; ‘ιφεμι, to send) and it is only used in the context of forgiveness in 45 of its 142 occurrences. The noun αφεσισ (aphesis), however, which comes from the same root denotes a dismissal, or release, and is translated ‘forgiveness’ in 15 of its 17 occurrences (49). This classical idea of forgiveness as ‘letting go’ is further emphasised by the translation of ‘forgive and you shall be forgiven’ in Luke 6:37 from the word απολυω (apoluo) which means to loose or release.
The Hebrew Bible also associates forgiveness with letting go, the expression used most often is sãlah, to send away, but it also uses expressions meaning ‘cover over’, ‘lift up’, ‘take away’, and ‘blot out’ (50).
Chapter 8
Forgiveness and letting go
The notion of forgiveness as ‘letting go’ has much to commend it in the context of reconciliation because of its pre-emptive power. Letting go of hatred towards the transgressor, and of a desire for vengeance, is effective in empowering victims and setting them free from the destructive matrix of the injustice they have suffered. The thirst for vengeance enslaves, (51) it never satisfies, as Hannah Arendt observes,
far from putting an end to the consequences of the first misdeed, everybody remains bound to the process (52).
In contrast, forgiveness is liberating and empowering because it is freely given, it cannot be coerced; it is absolutely within the gift of the victim. This is where the problem for Judaism lies with the teaching of Jesus: ‘forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us’ (53) introduces into the human realm what had previously been seen as a divine prerogative. Human beings are able to let go of the hurtful and destructive actions of others, in the same way that God lets go of actions that offend him. Forgiveness empowers liberation; even the most terrible evil no longer contains the power to dominate and oppress. Control moves from transgressor to victim, and the transgressor is still free to repent and seek forgiveness.
Letting go is not the same as forgetting. The past remains with its ache and scars, but it no longer casts its shadow into the present. Forgiveness transforms the destructive capacity of remembering into a constructive agent for dealing with the past and reconstructing the present.
Chapter 9
Forgiveness and justice
Letting go does not mean regarding the transgressor’s behaviour as acceptable or condoned. Justice seeking is still an important issue, but post-forgiveness the victim is able to pursue justice that is motivated by the ‘pursuit of universal change and transformation’ (54) rather than by a desire for vengeance or revenge. In reality, forgiveness may require letting go of the necessity of even-handed justice, but not of justice itself. The nature of evil is such that justice can never adequately satisfy the demands of some misdeeds. Vengeance may seem less impotent but has more complications and is incompatible with forgiveness, as Martha Minow observes,