Farewell bell hooks and Desmond Tutu

Ubuntu

In just eleven days the world farewelled two of its genuinely great people. On 15^th December bell hooks (Gloria Jean Watkins) died and then on the 26^th Desmond Tutu also died. Both bell and Desmond were known for their opposition to racism, and each stood up for the rights of their people to live with dignity and respect.

Each has left a legacy of wisdom and grace.

bell hooks often spoke and wrote about the connections between racism, patriarchy, economic injustice, and poverty. She saw the connections clearly and spent much of her life trying to show them to the world.

Desmond Tutu often spoke and wrote of the connections between all of us. He, perhaps more than any other South African, brought the concept of ubuntu to the rest of the world. The Zulu concept of ubuntu, Tutu described as:

“The philosophy and belief that a person is only a person through other people. In other words, we are human only in relation to other humans. Our humanity is bound up in one another… This interconnectedness is the very root of who we are.”

We see here a similar message. Desmond Tutu describing our interconnectedness, and bell hooks reminding us that ignoring our connections gives rise to social classifications and thence the intersection between oppression.

Perhaps the most radical offering that each of them gifted to the world was their understanding of the role forgiveness and compassion could play. Radical – because forgiveness and compassion are often seen (by all sides of the political spectrum) as “soft options.” Neither of these two pillars of humanity could be thought of as soft. Let’s hear from bell first.

“For me, forgiveness and compassion are always linked: how do we hold people accountable for wrongdoing and yet, at the same time, remain in touch with their humanity enough to believe in their capacity to be transformed?”

This is a truly radical question, for it shifts us away from a good/evil, right/wrong, me/you, us/them dualism, towards a recognition of our common humanity (faults and all.)

Desmond Tutu grappled with exactly this question throughout his long life (he died at age 90.) His penultimate book, published in 2015, was a collaboration with his daughter – Mpho – titled The Book of Forgiving.¹

In that book he outlined a four-fold path of forgiveness, contrasting this with the Revenge Cycle – a never ending continuing cycle of violence, harm, revenge/retaliation, violence…

For Tutu, forgiveness was not just a practice with personal or familial benefit; it also has benefit at world and global level.

Yes, within days of one another the world has said farewell to two of its wise elders.

I will leave the final words to Desmond Tutu.

“We can’t create a world without pain or loss or conflict or hurt feelings, but we can create a world of forgiveness. We can create a world of forgiveness that allows us to heal from those losses and pain and repair our relationships.”

Note:

1. Desmond M. Tutu and Mpho A. Tutu, The Book of Forgiving: The Fourfold Path for Healing Ourselves and Our World, William Collins, London, 2014.

Give Nothing To Hate

A year ago (on 15 March 2019) a gunman walked into two mosques in Christchurch and shot and killed a total of 51 people.  In a speech to Parliament a few days later, Jacinda Ardern (Prime Minister of Aotearoa - New Zealand) said of the shooter, “we will give him nothing, not even his name.” 

A campaign, #givenothingtohate, was launched by two Christchurch residents following the shootings.  The campaign, and Jacinda Ardern’s words, draws on the idea that the simplest way to overcome hate speech is to not acknowledge (and not name) such “speakers” and to not promote their manifestos or creeds.  The heart is coloured green in solidarity with Muslim people.

A few days after the shooting, I wrote of my struggle with the grief I felt.  I now offer that more publicly and dedicate it to the 51 people killed (murdered) on 15 March 2019.  I titled it:

How To Grieve?

Is it possible to grieve for the loss of a person one has never known? I don’t know; I have never experienced such grief. If I do not know how to grieve for the death of ONE person I do not know, then how can it be possible to grieve for the death of 51 people I do not know?

I began to find the answer to that heart-rending question on the afternoon of Friday 15 March 2019.

I have never met any of those 51 people killed at the two Christchurch mosques, or any of their families. I had run past Al-Noor mosque two or three times a week for nearly thirty years, after it was built in 1985. Its gleaming white exterior was a landmark on the 8km lap around Hagley Park. The mosque sat there, peaceful, serene, it belonged. It belonged in Christchurch just as easily as it would have in Jakarta or Islamabad.

But, it didn’t. Not in the minds of some. Pigs heads and other atrocities were dumped upon its doorway, and I made no complaint. “It’s nothing to do with me,” I justified and excused. So, how could it be that the killing of 51 people, who I did not know, in that mosque that day brought me to tears? How could my heart be filled with compassion? How could I be numbed? How?

Perhaps it was the location. Christchurch, my home for 30 years of my life, my second hometown.

Perhaps it was the scale of the terror. On a per capita basis, if the same proportion were killed in Australia then more than 260 people would have been killed that day. If in the US, then over 3,000 would have died – more than the number killed in 9/11. Maybe the sheer size elicited my tears?

Yes, it was those two factors. But more. A fundamental factor was empathy. My first facebook post that afternoon referred to those killed, and their families and friends, as being “our brothers and sisters.” Did I really feel that? Or, was my response expected of me, not really felt. And that sentence more accurately reflected my feelings: doubt, confusion, fear, a feeling of unreality. What is real? 
And in that feeling I noticed one of the classic elements of grief: denial.

Seven years before that afternoon I left Christchurch following the devastating earthquake that killed 185 people – three of them friends of mine. Then, I was able to mourn the three people I knew. One of them, Brian, I had run many times around Hagley Park with, and past that mosque. I was able to meet with others who knew those three people; we were able to share stories, we were able to weep and to laugh together. Eventually, we were able to let go.

Since 15 March I have been unable to do any of those things – I did not know them, and do not know anyone who did. Yet the grieving, the sadness, is just as profound.

Yet, not all my tears are spurred by grief and sadness.

Tears flowed when I heard the husband of one of those killed speak from his wheelchair and say, “I forgive him.”

Tears flowed when I watched Jacinda Ardern hug a Muslim woman whilst wearing a hijab.

Tears flowed when I watched dozens of Maori, and others, performing haka, including one group of very capable Muslim kids.

Tears flowed when I heard a girl at a Christchurch high school ask Jacinda Ardern, “How are you?”

Tears flowed when I heard Jacinda reply, “Thank you, I am very sad.”

Tears flowed when I saw the Sydney Opera House lit up with a silver fern.

Tears flowed when I saw the front page of the Christchurch Press, with the simple words “Salam, peace” written in Arabic. Beneath that the names of those killed.

Tears flowed as I read dozens and dozens of posts on facebook from friends and family.

These and many more tears were not of grief. These were tears of joy, connection, love, pride, recognition, empathy, togetherness – tatou, tatou.

These emotions of mine, and similar emotions I saw and heard expressed by others, all speak to me of a common humanity, a shared experience of living upon a planet of wonder and mystery, of diversity and commonality, of discord and harmony. Those tears I shed, those tears I saw in the eyes of thousands, told me we all experience the paradoxes of being human.

So, I come back to my question. How can I grieve for the deaths of 51 people I have never met? By tapping into those paradoxes, by recognising our common humanity, by feeling empathy. I could term it grempathy – the grief one feels when empathising with the loss experienced by someone else.

No reira, tena koutou, tena koutou, tena tatou katoa.
As-salamu Alaykum.

Is It Right To Forgive?

It seems right to forgive, doesn’t it?  After all, we hear such proclamations often from pulpits and religious sectors.

We also hear calls for apologies to be made.  Within the public domain we often hear these couched in phrases such as “we call on him/her to apologise, and to withdraw.”

Forgiveness and apology seem to go together.  One person apologises and the other forgives.  Sometimes, forgiveness is not offered until such time as an apology is given.

Then too, there are times when we hear that forgiveness cannot, or should not, be given because the crime has been too horrific, or the hurt too great.

In all these situations, forgiveness is thought of as something offered because someone has done wrong.  A hurt or crime has been committed and the “victim” is sufficiently humane, or compassionate enough, to forgive the “offender” for the wrongdoing.

Apologies, and forgiveness, are couched in the framework of right/wrong and victim/offender.
Is that really what forgiveness is?  Is forgiveness about righting a wrong?  Is forgiveness about a victim forgiving an offender?

Not really.

Forgiveness is really about healing a damaged relationship.  Forgiveness is about recognising our common humanity and restoring balance when harmony is disrupted.  Forgiveness recognises that, being human, we all make mistakes.  Think of it like the making of a movie.  Various takes of scenes are made, sometimes dozens before the final, picture-perfect (excuse the pun) take is accepted.  Each of the takes before that final take can be thought of as mis-takes.  In each of those takes, the actors, the camera crew, the extras, the make-up artists, the director, the producer, and everyone else on set did their job the best they could at the time.  Each of those mis-takes were accepted and the next take was ordered up by the director.  In the same way, our mis-takes can be accepted, we can learn from them, we can acknowledge to those around us that we made a mis-take, and we can yearn for better in the next “take.”

So it is with forgiveness.  True forgiveness is offered (given) even before the mis-take is made.  Indeed, the etymology of the word embodies this idea.  The word forgive comes to us from the Latin word perdonare.  Doesn’t sound or look like it does it?  However, if you trace its journey perdonare was translated into the Germanic precursor of English.  Per became for and donare was translated as giefan, so we got forgiefan, and from there the modern English word forgive.

In Latin, per means with or before, and donare means completely, without reservation.  Hence, we could define forgive as “to give completely, to give without reservation, and to do so beforehand.”

Looked at this way, forgiveness becomes something we do for ourselves, rather than something we do for the person who we perceive to have harmed us in some way.  As too, is apology.  We apologise because it is healing for the relationship, not because it may heal the perceived hurt of the other person.

Whether we perceive ourselves to be the victim or the offender is largely immaterial.  When either, or both, parties make a mis-take, then the relationship between them is knocked out of balance.  The key to restoring balance, as with so many things in life, is honest and transparent communication.  Taking the time to offer an apology or to for-give allows for a restoration of balance and perhaps even, a more satisfying relationship.


Forgiving then, is not right, or wrong.  Forgiving helps to restore a relationship that has become unbalanced.

Prisons: Retribution or Rehabilitation? Part 3, Restorative Justice

Last week I briefly outlined the process of Restorative Justice as an alternative to retributive justice and the use of prisons.  That blogpost outlined 3 lessons that I had learnt from working in the restorative justice arena.  This week I am posting the other 4 lessons.

1.      We All Make Mistakes.

Let’s face it - we all make mistakes.  We make many mistakes in our relationships with one another, especially in our younger years.  One of the most common sentences I heard directed towards offenders in the restorative justice conferences was “we all make mistakes.”  The speaker would then often go on to describe an incident in their youth, or talk about how mistakes can be used as something to learn from.  Many times the conference itself was a vehicle for that learning to take place.  Because restorative justice is a community-based program offenders are often put in contact with agencies, counsellors, psychologists, or other specialists, that can help them learn from their mistake.

Surely, it is far preferable that someone learns from their mistake, and finds ways to ensure that they do not make it again, than it is to dismiss the incident as “youthful exuberance” or, at the other extreme, lock them in jail with other offenders.

The offender learns that their offence isn’t simply one of them and the person they directly offend against.  The direct victim always has family, maybe a husband or wife, or children that are affected in some way.  The victim has work colleagues, or friends that they play sport with or socialise with.  All these people are affected by the single incident involving the victim and offender.  The ripple effects of crime can be extensive.  Many times I saw the realisation of this dawn in the awareness of offenders.  The restorative justice format is an excellent crucible within which these ripple effects can be displayed, heard, and appreciated.  The “normal” court systems, and retributive justice, are unable to do this.

2.      We Are All Human.

In last weeks blogpost I observed that all participants come into the restorative justice process with an array of feelings and emotions, many of them what we could call unhelpful emotions: pain, anxiety, hurt, fear, uncertainty, or anger.  What I noticed was that these emotions were the most often displayed ones, irrespective of the participant’s role.  Victims and offenders were just as likely to feel fearful or anxious.  Supporters also displayed fear and hurt, whether they were supporters of the victim or the offender.

My observations of these universal feelings suggest to me two truths:  First is that we are all human, we all react to trauma, disharmony, and upset in similar ways.  We are not immune to a set of emotions just because we are the initiator of the disharmony.  The second truth is that emotions such as fear, anxiety, and uncertainty suggest that we wish to re-establish order or harmony in our lives.  Human beings desire to live harmonious lives, in concord with one another. 

3.      There Is Always A Bigger Picture.

When people come together to share their story, and to relate how they have been affected by someone’s actions, a bigger picture than the “simple” offence emerges.  Victims share their hurt, their pain, and how the offence impacted their lives in an ongoing way.  Victims get to look the offender in the eyes and tell them how they felt the next day at work, or what it was like to go home and tell their children why they have a black eye.

It does not stop there though.  Often the back-story of the offender emerges also, whether told by the offender themselves or perhaps a supporter.  Often I found that the offender was, at the time, experiencing a low point in their lives.  Sometimes too, the mental state of the offender is discovered to include anxiety, depression, and perhaps even suicidal tendencies.  Maybe the offender was working through some relationship or employment difficulties, with little or no support.  None of this is to excuse the offence, but it does allow other participants to understand, even empathise, with the situation being faced by the offender.

Recognition of the bigger picture is crucial for enabling all the participants in the restorative justice process to recommend, and agree upon, courses of action, or outcomes, that have a realistic chance of making a difference in the offender’s life.  One of the major objectives of most restorative justice programs is to reduce the possibility of re-offending.  A bigger picture makes it more likely that the best possible plan will be forthcoming.  A fine and/or jail sentence is unlikely to do this.

4.      People Are Generous.

People want to help.  I made this simple observation time and time again.  People want to help others fully understand the situation or background.  Often, victims want to help the offender make better choices in life.  Some are able to offer very specific advice, others know of agencies or professionals who can help.  Community representatives in restorative justice conferences can be extremely generous in offering their time, energy and skills for follow-up one-on-one work with offenders.

So much of our cultural and social conditioning tells us that we get ahead by competing with one another, and that the success or failure of others is not our concern.  There is now much research showing that this conditioning provides us with false ideas.  More often than not our happiness and feelings of self-worth are found in our helpful interactions with others.  I witnessed the truth of this often in restorative justice conferences.  I could see it in the faces of all participants when they moved towards grappling with how to make things better in the future.  The frowns, grimaces, and tight jaws, would be replaced by smiles, greater eye contact, and ofttimes even laughter.

Conclusion

Although I witnessed these seven lessons (see last weeks blog also) in almost all of the more than 50 cases I was involved with, it was often not until participants experienced the process themselves that they were able to recognise these outcomes and come to appreciate them.

I could not sit down with a victim prior to a conference and tell them that, as a result of the conference they would come away healed, or perhaps even offering forgiveness.  Creative writing has a phrase, “show, don’t tell.”  It is a phrase pertinent to restorative justice also.  Often I would sit with a victim one-on-one and they would tell me what they wanted for the victim.  Sometimes that was a punitive outcome: “this guy needs to go to jail,” or “I want this person to have a record against their name for the rest of their life.”  I just accepted these statements, without attempting to judge or suggest alternatives.  In all cases where such sentiments were announced to me before the conference, the outcome was entirely different.

I recall one case in which the offender had stolen something from a shopping centre.  Prior to the conference I met with the shopping centre manager who told me that he “wanted this guy locked up and that’s what I will be saying in the conference.”  In the conference itself, he did not make that statement.  By the end of the conference he was saying, as he looked at the offender, “Look mate, I don’t want you to go to jail.  I think you have made some excellent changes in your life since and I support you, and want to encourage you to keep going.”

In at least three instances the victims offered to go along to the offender’s court hearing following the conference to offer support and, if able to do so, tell the Judge that they supported the victim in what they were doing to make changes in their lives.

Such changes can only come about through experiencing the restorative justice process.  Although I have been involved in over 50 restorative justice conferences, I am unable to tell offenders that they will emerge from the process healed and perhaps forgiving.  I can say, however, that by observing this happening, the restorative justice process is of enormous benefit to offenders and victims alike.  It offers healing, and the chance to make better lives of everyone involved.

Prisons: Retribution or Rehabilitation? (Part 2)

Last week I promised an alternative to prison in this blogpiece.  Before doing so, I want to recap with two observations.  First, most of those in prison are there for “crimes” that are not of a violent nature.  Second, prison does not rehabilitate or reform.  Indeed, a spell of time in jail is more likely to make the prisoner “better” at what they did that got them imprisoned in the first place.

That said, the practice of restorative justice has been experimented with and practiced in many parts of the world over the past few decades.  I have worked in the restorative justice area for a few years and have discovered seven lessons in that experience.  This blog talks about three of these lessons.  Next weeks blog will speak of the other four.

Brief Overview

In some ways, restorative justice is a very old practice which was superseded by a more retributive approach, at least in western styles of justice, over the past millennia or so.  More recently, certainly since the 1990s, restorative justice ideas and practices have begun to be re-introduced.  The indigenous peoples of New Zealand (Māori) and of North America incorporated restorative styles into their justice systems.  Mainstream justice systems then began to take note and in 1990 the book Changing Lenses–A New Focus for Crime and Justice by Howard Zehr shifted the lens of justice from a retributive one to a restorative one.

So, what is restorative justice and how does it differ from retributive justice?  The traditional system of justice throughout most western democracies is based on the belief that crime is an offense against the state and that the state must intervene to mete out justice and punishment.  Restorative justice, however, views crime as harming individuals and the community and/or the relationship between them.  It recognises that people - victims, offenders, and the community - are hurt by an offence.  Restorative justice attempts to repair the breakdown in these relationships and seeks to find ways to reduce re-offending.  It does this by bringing offenders, victims, supporters of both victims and offenders, and members of the community into a facilitated space in which all participants are encouraged to share their pain, hurt, fears, or disappointments.  From this sharing a plan emerges that becomes the offender’s community-based sentence. It is a plan that is agreed upon by all, including the offender(s) and the victim(s).

Seven Restorative Justice Lessons (1-3)

1. Remorse is Real.

People tell me that it is easy to express sorrow for a crime after the fact.  It is “just too easy” they tell me to look back in hindsight and say “I am sorry for what I did.” However, such glib reflections are also far too easy to express.  The reality that I experienced is that most often offenders are truly sorry for their actions and feel a deep sense of remorse.

Before every conference I met individually with every participant.  As I sat opposite offenders I looked into their eyes and most often I would see pain, grief and remorse. I could see it also in the way they clasped and unclasped their hands. I could hear it in the way their voice stuttered and they grasped, desperately sometimes, for words to adequately express their feelings or thought processes.

I recall one conference in which the offender was charged with assault and damaging property. The offender in this case was a young man who was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome. When it came to putting together a plan for him there was discussion about him doing some voluntary work at the victim’s business. However, the victim was reluctant to do this as it would mean that the people who worked for the victim would be put out of work. During the conference it became known that the offender had a passion for tropical fish (many with Aspergers become very passionate and knowledgeable about a specific topic or interest). It was suggested that he could clean out the fish tank at the victim’s business. Immediately, his eyes lit up and I could see that he was thinking “yes, this is something I can offer back, and something I have an expertise in.” This desire to give back clearly stemmed from feelings of remorse, and he wanted to find a way that he could repair the harm done.

2. Healing Happens.

As I sat with each individual participant before bringing them together into a conference, the most common feelings that all expressed, whether they were victims, offenders, or the supporters, were ones of fear, anxiety, uncertainty, and yes, often anger. I would listen to their story, with empathy and without judgment. I would reassure each and every one of them that they would be able to tell their story in the conference. Victims would be able to look at the offender and tell them of the harm done to them and how this affected them, their families, their work colleagues, or others. Offenders would be able to apologise to the victim and others if necessary. All participants would be listened to and heard.

By the end of, often, a two hour process those feelings of fear, anxiety, uncertainty and anger, were largely dissipated and a healing for all had begun. Victims felt heard, often for the first time since the incident. Offenders too, felt that they had been able to tell victims about how troubled they had been by holding onto their remorse.

3. Forgiveness Follows.

Desmond Tutu¹ notes that forgiveness is not a throw-away absolution of responsibility. Forgiveness, for him, does not mean forgetting, nor does it mean the process is easy. I have witnessed many tears in the conferences I have facilitated, and must admit, came close to shedding them myself on occasion. I did not count how many times that by the end of a conference the victim would approach the offender and offer to shake hands. I would guess though, that it would be in at least 90% of cases. In one very moving conference, the wife of a man who had been assaulted, walked across the room at the end of the conference and hugged her husband’s assailant and wished him well. If that is not an act of forgiveness then the word is an empty one.

Although the phrase, “I forgive you,” may not be uttered much in restorative justice settings, the intention is certainly present. When forgiveness is offered in this way the person who benefits most can be the victim, or victim supporters. In the expression of forgiveness they are released from a trap of anger and grief. Russell Marks² notes that often the media (particularly tabloid style media) and other punitive commenters risk keeping victims trapped in an endless cycle of anger and grief, by insisting that they (the victims) should remain angry at the offender(s). Forgiveness, however, allows a victim to step out of this trap and to find a healthy way forward. And, I have seen this happen time and time again within restorative justice conferences.

Next weeks blog will look at the other four lessons: 4. We All Make Mistakes, 5. We Are All Human, 6. There Is Always A Bigger Picture, and 7. People Are Generous.

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Notes:
1. Rev Desmond Tutu and Mpho Tutu, The Book of Forgiving, William Collins Books, 2014.

2. Russell Marks, Crime and Punishment; Offenders and Victims in a Broken Justice System, Redback, Collingwood, Victoria, Australia, 2015. Russell Marks worked as a criminal defence lawyer and is an honorary associate at La Trobe University.

I Choose

It’s a world of paradox isn’t it?  A world of seeming contradiction.  If we allow ourselves to get side-tracked by the news on television we will see, night after night, a world of war, terrorism, corrupt politicians, tragic murders, disasters.  The one light in all this may come with a feel-good story of a minute or so right at the very end of the news hour, after the weather report.

If we go outside and watch the sunset, or listen to the birds, or smell the fragrance on the air, we will find the world is full of beauty, wonder, and inspiration.

The reality is, it’s neither one nor the other – it is both.  But, I can choose my attitude towards the world, towards other people, and towards myself.  I’m reminded of the story about two people walking down the road in the middle of a rainstorm.  One of them is huddled over, a grimace on their face, mumbling and grumbling.   The other is skipping along, smiling and occasionally whooping for joy.  Each of them have made a choice.  It doesn’t matter which of the choices are made – both of them get wet.  Given that I’m going to get wet, I think I’d prefer to be the skipper.

So, here are the choices that I wish to make in my life.

Empathy

Empathy stems from a Greek word – pathos, that can be translated as suffering, feeling, emotion or calamity.  Literally, it means what befalls one.  Empathy adds the prefix em meaning in.  Empathy, then, is the ability to experience the suffering of others.  Empathy allows us to understand what others are feeling either because we have experienced similar feelings or have the ability to step out of our own experience and discover the feeling that the other person or persons are undergoing.  Our brains contain what are known as mirror neurons which effectively mirror what is happening emotionally for another person. Via this mechanism our brains react as if what we are seeing or hearing from another person is actually happening to ourselves, within our own bodies.

Fortunately, our mirror neurons don’t confine themselves just to feelings of suffering. When others are happy, joyful, or having fun, we can feel those emotions also via our mirror neurons. 

It is possible to develop our empathy.  Becoming more self-aware helps.  Being in touch with our own feelings and emotions, being able to identify them and then able to express them increases our empathic response to others. 

Compassion

Many of us look for happiness in our lives.  We try to find it by looking inside ourselves, or immersing ourselves in material possessions or experiences.  The key to happiness, however, may actually lie in our interaction with others.  The Dalai Lama has eloquently noted that,

“If you want others to be happy, practice compassion.  If you want to be happy, practice compassion.”

The word itself gives us a clue that this is in fact so.  Compassion is passion with the small prefix com attached.  Com is Latin for with.  So, very simply, compassion is passion with others.

Forgiveness

When we are able to empathise and act with compassion then being able to forgive almost follows as naturally as day follows night.  Many of us find it difficult to forgive because we mistakenly associate it with being a subversion of justice, forgetting, weakness, or some sort of quasi-religious righteousness.  It is none of these.  Indeed, forgiveness is often more something we do for ourselves than for the person we are forgiving.  How many of us go through life with some grudge or animosity against another person?  We are trapped.   Trapped by our own lack of forgiveness.   Yet, as soon as we forgive we find that we become free. 

Love

Love?  What is it?  Philosophers, playwrights, religious teachers, poets, musicians, psychologists, and all of us, have sought to understand this emotion over generations.  So, I’m not going to try to define it here.  All I know is that love is something that I choose to bring into my life: unconditional love, fully-embracing love, love for others, love for animals, love for nature, love for the earth.  A love that flows through me and I through it.  That’s all I can say.

Connection

Embracing a love that is all-encompassing means that I choose connection.  I choose connection rather than disconnection, rather than separateness.  Indeed, it could be that connection allows us to choose  empathy, compassion, forgiveness and love.  The sense of separateness is an illusion and by attempting to view ourselves as separate beings means that empathy, compassion, forgiveness and love are always going to be difficult to embrace.

Everything is connected, and the more we understand this the more we notice that everything is connected.  Yes, I know that is almost a tautology, yet it is a self-confirming cycle that underpins the whole of life.  Embrace it!

These are the attitudes that I choose for myself.  None of this is suggesting that these are easy to keep in mind or continually act on.  I do choose them though.

When I make these choices there is less room for fear, hatred, anger, and isolation.  I still expect to get wet though.

Forgiving A Bomber

Fernando Pereira

In 1985 I was actively involved with the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) movement in Aotearoa (New Zealand).  NFIP was one of a number of organisations campaigning against nuclear weapons testing in the Pacific, along with groups such as Greenpeace, Friends Of the Earth (FOE), Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND), the Peace Squadron and others.

On the morning of 11 July 1985 we awoke to the news that the Greenpeace flagship, Rainbow Warrior, had been blown up and sunk in Auckland Harbour.  I was shocked, dismayed, angry and devastated.  This was not an example of the type of world I wanted.  It quickly became apparent that this was the work of French agents and two of them, Alain Mafart and Dominique Prieur, were caught and tried.  But another ten French agents were never captured and never brought to justice.

Now, thirty years later, one of those remaining ten agents, Jean-Luc Kister, has spoken to the French investigative organisation, Mediapart, and on New Zealand television for the first time.   In those interviews Kister said that “…it is time for me to express my profound regret and my apologies.”  He went on to say that he wanted to apologise to the family of the man (Fernando Pereira) that was killed in the blast, “especially to his daughter Marelle.”

The apology may be thirty years in the coming, but as Peter Wilcox, the captain of the Rainbow Warrior that fateful night, commented, “it seemed sincere to me.  Perhaps late in coming, but sincere.”

The question now for those of us involved in social justice issues, especially for those of us who had connections (even tenuously) with this act of state terrorism, becomes: can we accept Jean-Luc Kister's apology and can we forgive him?

Peter Wilcox remarked that he “did not think it was for me to forgive.” Certainly Wilcox did not lose a father, as Marelle did (she was 8 years old at the time), but he did lose a friend, a colleague, and he did lose a ship.  Whether Wilcox is able to forgive Kister for these loses is up to him and his conscience.

However, the bigger question is the role of forgiveness in the advocacy and activism of social justice campaigners. 

Lets first be clear about what forgiveness is not.  Bishop Desmond Tutu perhaps knows more about the act of forgiveness and the power that it has than anyone on the planet.  He oversaw the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa following the collapse of the apartheid regime.  In his book, The Book of Forgiving, written with his daughter, Mpho, he identifies five things that forgiveness is not.  Forgiveness is not: 1. forgetting, 2. weakness, 3. a subversion of justice, 4. quick, nor 5. easy.

A further misconception about forgiveness is that it is offered to the offender by a victim, and that in some way it is an exoneration of a harm committed by the offender.  Yes, forgiveness may be offered to the offender, but equally, perhaps more importantly, forgiveness is something that the victim offers to themselves.  Louise Hay said it well when she stated that:

“The act of forgiveness takes place in your own mind.  It really has nothing to do with the other person.”

To Forgive is not to neglect Justice.

Jean-Luc Kister, along with another DGSE diver, Jean Camas, planted those two bombs on the hull of the Rainbow Warrior.  They set the timers.  They knew what they were doing.  They were responsible for the sinking of the ship.  They were responsible for the murder of Fernando Pereira.  Forgiveness does not deny this, nor does it wish to subvert the course of justice.  Peter Wilcox is right to attest that “justice has not been done.”  Justice and forgiveness however, are not conflicting notions.

How many of us can forget that the Rainbow Warrior was bombed?  Marelle Pereira cannot forget that her father was murdered in an act of state terrorism.  The Greenpeace organisation cannot forget that it lost a ship and a comrade.  The people of New Zealand cannot forget that their sovereign borders were infiltrated by another nation and an act of terrorism committed in their largest harbour.  Nor should we all forget.  But forgiveness does not mean that we do so.

Desmond and Mpho Tutu claim that there is nothing that cannot be forgiven and that no-one is undeserving of forgiveness.  These are challenging claims.  Yet, those of us seeking a more just, a more peaceful, a more sustainable world need to work with these claims.  We must accept the challenge that the Tutus have given us.

The habitual response to being harmed, individually or nationally, is to seek retribution, to want to punish and do harm back to our offender.  Doing so only leads us into the vicious cycle of harm – pain – retaliation – more harm and so on …. an endless cycle.  Within that cycle we end up rejecting our common and shared humanity.  Plus, we become trapped not only within the cycle but also by the debilitating emotions of anger, resentment, bitterness and hate.

It is up to those of us campaigning for social justice to show a better way, to point to a more compassionate future.  The power of forgiveness is one way of doing that.

Can we forgive Jean-Luc Kister?  Each one of us must answer that for ourselves.  Me?  I haven’t yet, but I’m working on it.

1. DGSE: the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure, the French intelligence service.

Addendum:  The French Greenpeace organisation, in response to the latest revelations, issued a statement that says “we would like to insist that French town halls, and particularly that of Paris, the capital of France’s major political decisions, that Fernando’s memory is properly and fully honoured, as it should be, with a road or a square named after him.”

Book of Forgiving: A Review

Of the hundreds, possibly thousands, of books that I have read in my life, The Book of Forgiving¹ is one of the most beautiful, heartfelt and important of them.

Yet it is not so much a book that one reads.  It is more like a play.  Desmond and Mpho Tutu have scripted the play.  They are also the Director and Narrator and you, the reader, are the lead actor.  When you begin you are alone on centre stage.  Meanwhile, waiting in the wings are all those who have harmed you or those whom you have harmed.

The Tutus set scenes, give prompts, ask you to ad lib, and guide you on a journey through four Acts – what they call the Fourfold Forgiveness Cycle (Telling the Story, Naming the Hurt, Granting Forgiveness, Renewing or Releasing the Relationship).

This is a book in which the reader is a fully active participant.  It would be possible to read the book much as you would a text.  Some benefit, no doubt, would come from that; but by far the greater benefit comes from keeping the journal and undertaking the tasks that the Tutus provide for the reader at the end of each chapter.

Desmond Tutu is the Archbishop Emeritus of Cape Town and came to prominence as a vocal critic of apartheid in South Africa.  After Nelson Mandela became President of South Africa he asked Desmond Tutu to chair the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.  This role taught him much about the process of forgiveness and healing.

His daughter, Mpho, is an episcopal priest and is undertaking a doctorate in forgiveness.  She shares a very personal, and deeply moving, story in the book.  Together, the two of them bring a wealth of expertise, experience and insight to the journey of forgiveness.

They present all this in an engaging, easily accessible manner, including reference to research at times, giving the book a sense of being grounded.

Like any good play, this one begins with a prologue.  The prologue here is a description of what forgiveness is not.  Forgiveness is such a suppressed process and practice in western culture that it is easily misunderstood.  Desmond and Mpho Tutu wish to dispel five myths early so as to be able to move onto what forgiveness is.  For them; forgiveness is not a sign of weakness, it is not disregarding justice, it does not mean forgetting, it is not easy, and it is often not quick.

A number of stories are shared in the book that help to illustrate the points that the Tutus are making.  Many of these stories are brutally honest, sincerely respectful and deeply moving.  A word of caution: keep a box of tissues near at hand.

All forms of forgiveness are addressed in the book: forgiving others, asking for forgiveness, forgiving yourself, and forgiveness as peacemaking in the world.

By the end of the book and after writing the journal and undertaking the exercises I had a greater appreciation of what forgiveness is.  For me I discovered that some of the ingredients of forgiveness include:

• “There is nothing that cannot be forgiven, and there is no-one undeserving of forgiveness.” (p 3)
• Forgiveness involves making a choice.  Instead of choosing the Revenge Cycle, we can choose the Fourfold Forgiveness Cycle.
• With true forgiveness shown towards those who have harmed us we move from being a victim to becoming a hero.
• “We are able to forgive because we are able to recognise our shared humanity.” (p 125)

You may discover other ingredients of forgiveness in this beautiful, easily-read, and easily understood, book.

Read it, act it out and after forgiving others and yourself, take a bow.

1. Desmond & Mpho Tutu, The Book of Forgiving, William Collins Books, 2014