Books: Speak Peace
Reflecting on Reconciliation and Forgiveness
by Charles Villa-Vicencio
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Book Reviewed
Forgiveness and Reconciliation: Religion, Public Policy, and Conflict Transformation.
Raymond G. Helmick and Rodney L. Petersen.
Radnor, Pa.: Templeton Foundation Press, 2001. 440 pp. $34.95 (Hardcover)
Forgiveness and Reconciliation is
about what can be done to facilitate
a reconciling process between estranged
individuals, hostile factions within a
nation, or between warring countries.
John Paul Lederach suggests in the text
that, "it is a paradox of sorts that human
concern for and interest in reconciliation
is as old as the hills and at the same time
in a preinfancy stage." This important
book makes a significant contribution to
our understanding of the complexities
surrounding reconciliation. It edges us
toward a level of maturity that affects
personal, national, and international
quests for conflict transformation and
reconciliation.
A dominant paradigm in thinking
about reconciliation, not least in theological
circles, suggests that forgiveness
precedes reconciliation. The sequence is
well-known: confession, repentance, forgiveness,
and reconciliation. This conventional
wisdom needs to be questioned
in the light of entrenched social or national
conflicts. In the hard world of political
conflict, initiating the peace process is
more important than an ideal outcome.
And, ultimately, personal reconciliation
may not be vastly different. There is no
reason to suggest that forgiveness should
necessarily precede personal reconciliation.
An emerging sense of interdependence,
which requires tolerance and
empathy, perhaps the beginning of a relationship—
even the initial phases of friendship—
is frequently the first step in any
reconciling process. Indeed, most nations
and individual relationships survive quite
well on less than ideal or complete reconciliation,
which includes forgiveness
and everyone living happily ever after.
Put differently, to focus on an ideal theological
notion of reconciliation, rather
than a more modest understanding of
reconciliation as a process with limited
beginnings, is both conceptually confusing
and practically counterproductive.
The pursuit of a greater goal is at
the same time necessary to ensure that
the initial step in the process does not
become the final one. A lack of movement
beyond the first hesitant step in
rapprochement can only serve to fuel
the suspicion of the critics of political
gradualism, who reject the process as little
more than the rearranging of furniture
on a vessel that drifts ever closer to
disaster.
It is helpful to declare and be conscious
of one's context and perspective.
This review is written in the wake of the
South African Truth and Reconciliation
Commission. I do so mindful of the fact
that few of us predicted much more than
disaster for South Africa in the late
1980s. The breakthrough came not as a
result of any Damascus Road experience;
it came as a result of a series of
encounters within which protagonists
on opposing sides began to make contact
with one another. Tentative, fragile steps
were taken that led to "talks about talks."
In the process, cautious relationships
were forged. This opened the way to a
search for peace and the beginning of a
reconciling process.
Not every contributor to the book
under review will necessarily agree with
the underlying perception of reconciliation
as a process preceding and ideally
incorporating forgiveness. And yet all
the contributions enrich the discussion
on the complexity of the relationship
between reconciliation and forgiveness.
Anthony da Silva addresses the sequence
question quite explicitly, drawing on
Robert Schreiter's suggestion that a more
appropriate sequence may be: "reconciliation,
forgiveness, repentance." In an
important contribution to the book,
Miroslav Volf reminds us that there are no
"autonomous and self-constituting entities"
in human relations. It is through
human encounter that the healing process
begins. This does not suggest that
repentance, justice, and other important
dimensions of human relations are to be
suspended indefinitely or played down in
any other way. To Volf "the struggle
against injustice is part of the more fundamental
pursuit of reconciliation." The
pursuit of forgiveness is, in a similar
sense, a goal that needs to sustain the reconciliation
process. It is not, however,
necessarily something that must precede
the process. I am arguing that it rarely
does. Lederach speaks of the need for "a
relationship-centric approach to reconciliation."
He suggests it involves a "multifaceted
journey" in pursuit of a goal not
yet reached. "Reconciliation is both
place, as in destination, and a journey." In
the words of Ofelia Ortega, "conversion is
not a momentary act of moral decision,
but a process of learning and a new way
of living."
The African concept of ubuntu,
introduced by Audrey Chapman, suggests
that a person is only a person
through other persons. In the words of
Archbishop Desmond Tutu, it means
"my humanity is caught up, is inextricably
bound up in yours." As such, "social
harmony is for us the summum bonum—
the greatest good." It places dialogue and
reciprocity at the center of the struggle to
be fully human. It suggests that people
are incomplete to the extent that they are
alienated from one another. Often
neglected at the height of war, rebellion,
and conflict, it is this hope that inspires
conflict resolution, peacemaking, and
the need for coexistence. Is it an anthropological
reality? A philosophy of ubuntu
suggests it is. It recognizes that the
process of seeking to be fully human
refuses to submit to fate. It involves the
creation of the kind of future that enables
people to engage one another in the creation
of a society that includes all others.
Da Silva speaks of "a common psychological
need all humans share, which is to
want to live in harmony with fellow
humans while minimizing the stresses
and strains of conflict."
Of course this is not easy. There are
numerous obstacles that undermine the
process—bad memories, deep and abiding
levels of hurt, the need for acknowledgment
of past suffering, reparation,
and justice. No one has the right to force
victims and perpetrators to forgive or
be reconciled. The question is whether
victims and survivors can be assisted to
move on—to get on with the rest of their
lives, not allowing anger or self-pity to be
the all-consuming dimension of their
existence. It involves taking responsibility
not only for their own lives and
healing but also for the future direction
of the nation. It is important for their
own sake that those who suffered most
are enabled to get on with life. This does
not mean forgetting the ghastly deed.
This is usually not possible and probably
not helpful. It does not mean necessarily
becoming friends with the person
responsible for one's suffering, nor does
it mean forgiving that person. Very few
accomplish this. Most people can only
deal with their past suffering intermittently,
at times rising above it, at other
times falling under its sway. Donald
Shriver quotes William Faulkner: "The
past is not dead and gone, it isn't even
past." In da Silva's words, "no general
pattern will obtain; no uniform model
need or should be imposed for peoples
hoping to live together." Put differently,
any suggestion that confession and forgiveness
is a precondition of reconciliation
could be counterproductive in
deeply divided societies. An approach
that identifies reconciliation as process
rather than goal could be more helpful.
I am suggesting this pastoral approach
not as an alternative to, but as an inherent
part of, a viable prophetic ethic of
reconciliation and forgiveness.
Editors Raymond Helmick and
Rodney Petersen tell us their book is
about "political penitence . . . Its horizon
is not confessional, but public policy
and conflict resolution." This focus
makes the question of "sequence"
important. In the world of politics, where
"the art of the possible" prevails, the
question of how to attain a given end is
as important as the end itself. The means
is indeed inherent to the end.
This book contains a lot of theology,
offered in the service of the public square
rather than the pew. Such a theology is
required to explore the hindrances and
potential contributions of religion to the
realization of "political penitence." Volf
suggests this process may be better served
by more religion of the correct kind—
involving "costly discipleship"—rather
than less religion. This is, however, a process
that may require theologians to take
seriously the challenge presented to the
church more than a half a century ago by
Dietrich Bonhoeffer from his prison cell,
which is to proclaim the gospel in secular
language. Effectively this involves using
language that is understood by secular
society and refraining from the kind of
dogmatism that seeks to prescribe how,
when, and where repentance, forgiveness,
reconciliation should occur. These
are, after all, gracious and mysterious
gifts of a gracious God.
The book is divided into four parts.
The first, entitled a theology of reconciliation,
addresses the theological content
of key words, the dialectic of forgiveness,
and theological models of reconciliation
and forgiveness, in a deepening
discussion on the relationship between
justice, reconciliation, and forgiveness. It
ends with an orthodox perspective on
reconciliation and forgiveness. The contributions
come from Petersen, Volf, and
Stanley Harakas.
The second part, dealing with forgiveness
and public policy, includes
chapters by Helmick, Joseph Montville,
Donna Hicks, and Shriver. The question
is posed whether religion is a source of
fuel or healing in situations of conflict.
There is a chapter on religion and
peacemaking; another on religion and
foreign policy. Religion is considered
in the reconstruction of identity, and
the important question is asked concerning
the form and nature of forgiveness
in secular politics.
Part three considers the relationship
between forgiveness and reconciliation.
It provides diverse voices from the
fields of clinical psychology, regional
conflict mediation, the social sciences,
and global youth ministry. The contributions
are by Everett Worthington, Lederach,
Ervin Staub and Laurie Anne
Pearlman, and John Dawson. This is an
important and action-driven section of
the book that provides a number of practical
ways of "reducing unforgiveness"
(Worthington), discussion on "qualities
of practice that lend themselves to reconciliation"
(Lederach), and a focus on
"healing, reconciliation and forgiving
after genocide and other collective violence,"
with special attention to Rwanda
(Staub and Pearlman). Dawson points to
several areas of concern in Western civilization
that require attention in pursuit
of less violence and conflict.
Part four, seeking forgiveness after
tragedy, addresses specific situations of
conflict. These include South Africa,
Northern Ireland, and Mozambique. Specific
mechanisms and ways of promoting
forgiveness and reconciliation are considered
within these situations and more
generally. These include truth and reconciliation
commissions, a two-track
diplomacy methodology, a Gandhian
approach to reconciliation, and a Christian
notion of conversion (metanoia) as
means of peacemaking. In an afterword,
George Ellis explores the concerns raised
in the book that apply to personal,
regional, national, and international life.
In the foreword, Archbishop Tutu provides
the inspiration that keeps the
debate going.
An important message of this book
is that there are no neat and tidy formulas
that make for forgiveness and
reconciliation. Lederach's word is an
important one: "unlike other areas of
conflict management more narrowly
defined, reconciliation processes do not
lend themselves to reductionist techniques
. . . Qualities of practice point us
less in the direction of technique and
more towards attitude and character."
The consideration of reconciliation
techniques is imperative, talk about reconciliation
is important, and the identification
of lessons learned from reconciling
initiatives is essential. This is what
makes this particular book such an
important one. And yet who, one must
ask, is ultimately in a position to define
the meaning of reconciliation for another
or to prescribe the techniques of the
process?
Ultimately the Spirit blows where it
wills, and reconciliation happens in different
ways in different places. Vigilance
is required in order to discern the possibilities
of reconciliation where and
when they occur. Wortherington's careful
analysis of mechanisms that lead to
the "reducing of unforgiveness" and that
promote reconciliation and forgiveness
can only facilitate such discernment.
Equally important is the insight provided
by Joseph Montville into the "psychological
man" and the "religious
man." He speaks of the separation of
consciences in Nazi doctors, "the half
that accepted systematic murder and
the other half that enjoyed a quiet
evening at home with wife, children and
dog"—posing the important question
concerning the societal and personal
causes of perpetration.
Indeed, this is frequently a key
ingredient to the reconciliation process.
The South African Truth and Reconciliation
Commission was mandated to do
more than account for who did what to
whom. It was required to discern the
"causes, motives and perspectives" of
perpetrators. The aim of this requirement
was not to lessen the culpability of
perpetrators. It was rather to identify
these factors with a view to ensuring that
their reemergence in the future is at least
minimized, if not eliminated. The most
effective way to counter gross human
rights violations is, of course, through
prevention. It is here that the present
anticipates the future. And it is here that
reconciliation work needs to begin.
The discernment of causes,
motives, and perspectives can also affect
the attitudes and behavior of victims
and survivors. Without condoning or
justifying the behavior of perpetrators in
any way, in some instances it enables victims
and survivors to begin to see perpetrators
as victims of a different kind—of
propaganda, religious indoctrination,
fear, disillusionment, and a culture of
submission. Madame de Staël, the late
eighteenth century French intellectual,
suggested that "to understand all is to
forgive all." Understanding does not, of
course, necessarily lead to reconciliation.
It may even aggravate the sense of
anger and alienation. And yet, when the
story of a perpetrator is thoughtfully
told, empathetically heard, and deeply
understood, it can soften the perception
the victim, survivor, or observer has of
the perpetrator concerned. It can open a
space for the possibility of a new kind of
interaction between adversaries. Jozef
Garlinski, a Polish underground fighter
who survived Auschwitz, tells of the horrendous
evil he both witnessed and suffered.
He ends his account by saying,
"please remember those young SS officers
could have been your sons or mine."
In understanding the perpetrator, we
may begin to understand the forces that
make for evil. We discover the power of
these forces, and we begin to realize
that the enemy—the German, the Serb,
or the white Afrikaner—does not have a
monopoly on moral insanity. We discover
that maybe there is a little perpetrator
in each of us. This makes unconditional
negative judgment of another a little
more difficult. As such, it can create a
basis for interaction in the present that
could lead to a new kind of future.
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Second Opinion #11
Publisher: Park Ridge Center, Chicago
Date: April, 2005.
ISSN: 0890-1570
105 pages.
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