Repentance and the Right to Forgiveness 1498558615, 9781498558617

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Repentance and the Right to Forgiveness

Repentance and the Right to Forgiveness Court D. Lewis

LEXINGTON BOOKS Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Published by Lexington Books An imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www.rowman.com Unit A, Whitacre Mews, 26-34 Stannary Street, London SE11 4AB Copyright © 2018 by The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Lewis, Court D., author. Title: Repentance and the right to forgiveness / Court D. Lewis. Description: Lanham : Lexington Books, 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018031448 (print) | LCCN 2018035649 (ebook) | ISBN 9781498558617 (Electronic) | ISBN 9781498558600 (cloth : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Forgiveness. | Repentance. Classification: LCC BJ1476 (ebook) | LCC BJ1476 .L49 2018 (print) | DDC 179—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018031448 TM The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

Printed in the United States of America

To those I have recently lost: Elliott Nordie Lewis, Jr. and Brian Storm. To those I have recently gained: Elliott Storm Lewis. To those I have wronged in my attempt to help, angered in my attempt to love, lost in my attempt to save. To Jenny, who has never given up on me, and to my family, friends, mentors, and colleagues who have helped me succeed, both in terms of this project and in life in general. There are too many to name, but please know that you are appreciated, loved, and cherished.

Contents

Introduction 1 2 3 4 5

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Life-Goods and the Grounding of Eirenic Rights Repentance and the Right to Be Forgiven The Unforgivable and Vengeance Religious Obligations to Forgive Toward Reconciliation

1 21 47 87 113

Epilogue

129

Bibliography

135

Index

141

About the Author

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Growing up in a protestant denomination of Christianity, forgiveness was a central theme of my early moral education. Whether aware of it or not, these early lessons on forgiveness provided a foundation for much of my life. Nevertheless, my philosophical interest in forgiveness did not occur until I read Simon Wiesenthal’s The Sunflower. Is someone guilty of heinous wrongdoing deserving of forgiveness? Can a stranger forgive a wrong committed against someone else? Can an individual forgive wrongs committed against an entire community? Should we not harden our hearts and refuse forgiveness in the face of atrocious wrongdoings? Like a real sunflower, Wiesenthal’s book spread its seeds throughout my imagination. As an undergraduate philosophy major with aspirations of becoming a graduate student, I considered making forgiveness an emphasis of my future work. Only one problem existed: there were exceedingly few philosophical resources on the topic. With a little patience, however, this shortcoming would be addressed, and would result in the development of my own philosophy of forgiveness based on an ethic of peace. The following is my attempt to develop such an ethic while addressing some pressing criticisms. The philosophical examination of forgiveness and its related concepts (e.g., repentance, remorse, reconciliation, resentment, and revenge) have exploded over the past several decades. The following is just a small sampling of recent philosophy books dedicated to forgiveness: Jeffrie Murphy and Jean Hampton’s Forgiveness and Mercy, 1 Jacques Derrida’s On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness, 2 Murphy’s Getting Even, 3 Vladimir Jankélévitch’s Forgiveness, 4 Charles Griswold’s Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration, 5 Kathryn Norlock’s Forgiveness from a Feminist Perspective 6 and The Moral Psychology of Forgiveness, 7 Margaret Holmgren’s Forgiveness and Retribution, 8 David Konstan’s Forgiveness: The Origins of a Moral Idea, 9 ix

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Glen Pettigrove’s Forgiveness and Love, 10 Martha Nussbaum’s Anger and Forgiveness, 11 and my own edited collections Explorations of Forgiveness 12 and New Dimensions of Forgiveness. 13 Of course, many of these books—and the multitude of articles and chapters dedicated to forgiveness in journals and other sources—are engaged with earlier works by the likes of Aristotle, Joseph Butler, Hannah Arendt, Simon Wiesenthal, and many more religious and philosophical sources. So, what do I wish to add to this already rich discussion? Stated simply, I wish to add the voice of rights to the discussion. Currently, there is no fully developed rights-based account of forgiveness. There are several reasons for the absence of rights-talk. For one, forgiveness is often viewed as an intimate interaction between victim and wrongdoer, while rights are typically characterized as impersonal, external “rules” that care nothing of the particularities of the individuals involved. In other words, rights theory is seen as indifferent to whether the wrongdoer betrays a close friend, or if a stranger commits the betrayal. On the other hand, when discussing forgiveness, whether the wrongdoer is close friend, or a stranger, has significant impact on the discussion and outcome. Most accounts of forgiveness attempt to develop some sort of account of the morally relevant features of the victim’s and wrongdoer’s relationship, and the nature of the relationship has deep implications as for what should happen. Most conceptions of rights, however, lack (or appear to lack) the conceptual tools to provide a rich normative framework in which to discuss the particularities of individual relationships, and as a result, rights-talk is typically silent on the issue of forgiveness. The closest anyone comes to giving such an account—at least that I am aware of—is Nicholas Wolterstorff, in his two books Justice: Rights and Wrongs 14 and Justice in Love. 15 Wolterstorff argues for a rights-based theory of ethics grounded in the Hebrew concept of shalom. According to Wolterstorff, shalom grounds a theory of rights based on the needs of individualsin-relation-to-others, one that creates a set of normative relationships where each person (when capable) is morally obligated to provide for the needs of others. When a person’s 16 needs are met, they are capable of flourishing, and when one flourishes, one achieves shalom. In Justice: Rights and Wrongs, Wolterstorff calls this new theory, which he maintains does not fit the traditional moral binary of consequentialism vs. non-consequentialism, eirenéism. 17 Eirenéism, therefore, distinguishes itself from other rights theories by incorporating and conceptualizing individual needs and the particularities of wrongdoings into its normative framework of rights and obligations. Wolterstorff provides only a brief explanation of what would count as eirenic 18 forgiveness, focusing most of his attention on discussing the Christian obligation to forgive. In order to avoid the conclusion that victims are obligated to their wrongdoers to forgive, Wolterstorff frames the obligation

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in terms of a third-party obligation to God—victims are obligated to the one who issues the command to forgive, not the one who committed the wrong. 19 So, instead of forgiveness being an obligation to wrongdoers, victims are obligated to God. 20 As a result of the complexities of forgiveness, illustrated by the need to make forgiveness a third-party obligation, Wolterstorff argues that if understood as an obligation to wrongdoers, forgiveness would be a “duty of charity,” and that eirenéism does not support the existence of such duties, at least not without major conceptual revisions. 21 Although I find much of Wolterstorff’s argument for accepting eirenéism convincing, I disagree with his analysis of forgiveness as a duty of charity, and that eirenéism cannot support a duty to forgive. In fact, this book is designed to show that eirenéism (without major revisions) does ground a duty 22 to forgive, one that does not grant forgiveness any special status, and one that does not depend on any theological assumptions. With this in mind, I will spend the next several pages providing an overview of my argument and how it will be developed over the course of the book. EIRENIC FORGIVENESS The study of forgiveness permeates many different academic areas and is pervasive throughout the popular culture—often the source of pop-psychology, self-help books, and melodramas. In terms of scholarly academic work, religion, psychology, and mental health research have probably been the largest contributors to forgiveness research, but philosophical ethics is slowly beginning to rival their dominance. Most ethical accounts discuss forgiveness as some sort of virtue/vice, either in the victim, wrongdoer, or both. For instance, Murphy argues that forgiveness is the “overcoming, on moral grounds, of the intense negative reactive attitudes—the vindictive passions of resentment, anger, hatred, and the desire for revenge . . .” 23 Griswold argues that there are several different types (or levels) of forgiveness, and develops an account of paradigmatic forgiveness, where victims and wrongdoers are required to meet several conditions, including the wrongdoer’s repentance and the victim’s reframing of oneself and commitment to letting go of anger and resentment. 24 Finally, Holmgren argues that forgiveness is a process where victims develop dispositional attitudes of forgiveness, which extend to the wrongdoer an attitude of respect, compassion, and real goodwill. Such attitudes help ensure that our deliberation and moral decision-making lead to a victim’s flourishing and the flourishing of others. 25 Of course, a character-based approach is not the only area of philosophical ethics concerned with forgiveness. Geoffrey Scarre presents a utilitarian account of forgiveness focused on repairing the damage caused by wrongdoing. 26 Kathryn Norlock examines forgiveness from a feminist perspective,

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pointing out the shortcomings of “traditional” accounts that attempt to determine what counts as “true” forgiveness and offering valuable new insights into the role of forgiveness for developing and sustaining positive relationships. 27 Jessica Wolfendale provides what could be considered a deontological duty ethics account, where the value of persons requires that we never view any wrongdoing as unforgivable. 28 Apart from philosophical ethics, yet closely related, other accounts discuss forgiveness in terms of a particular religious framework. Joseph Butler, who offers what many consider one of the best accounts of forgiveness, works from within a Christian framework. 29 Miroslav Volf, 30 Nicolas Wolterstorff, 31 and countless others offer their own Christian insights into what forgiveness is and when it should occur. Hannah Arendt even cites Jesus of Nazareth as the basis of our contemporary understanding of forgiveness. 32 Of course, Christianity is not the only religion to ground an account of forgiveness. From long-held religious celebrations centered on forgiveness, such as Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah, and the writings of Moses Maimonides, 33 Judaism has a rich account of forgiveness. Forgiveness is also a key component of Islam, so much so, that in the Qur’an God is described as ghafir, “the Forgiving.” 34 Buddhism, 35 Confucianism, 36 and many other religions also offer their own accounts. Where does the voice of rights and its associated concepts (i.e., rightstalk) fit into this rich and complex discussion? To a certain extent rights-talk already exists in many (though certainly not all) of these accounts. The problem, however, is that it only appears in a cursory way, as a useful way of describing why some action is wrong, then jettisoned in favor of another moral explanation. Whether referencing a legal right or something else, authors will often say that a wrong occurs when a victim’s rights are violated in some way. It is this violation that then creates the resulting moral relationship relevant to forgiveness. After using rights to ground the concept of wrongdoing, however, the focus quickly shifts to a discussion of building character, promoting utility, or determining one’s rational duty. The reason for this shift is complex and nuanced, and will be discussed in great detail in the first two chapters, but generally speaking, it is the result of the ubiquitous belief that forgiveness is necessarily “a gift” to the wrongdoer. For most authors, rights are too stringent and contractual for an adequate account of forgiveness, for when applied to cases of wrongdoing, they suggest that victims are obligated in certain cases to forgive their wrongdoers. These obligations fail to take into account the particularities of individual cases and contextual needs and capabilities of victims, and as such, destroy the notion that forgiveness is a gift. As a result, rights place too strong of a burden on victims. We might even say that the resulting obligation to forgive is repugnant, and that such an obligation unjustifiably wrongs (i.e., victimizes) victims, while benefiting wrongdoers.

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I am sympathetic to the reservations many have toward a rights-based account of forgiveness, but I hope to show that it is possible to apply rightstheory to the discussion of forgiveness, in order to develop a rights-based ethic of forgiveness that both avoids such problems and matches up with many well-grounded moral intuitions. More precisely, I argue the following: a rights-based theory of ethics grounded in eirenéism creates an intimate moral relationship between victims and wrongdoers within a social community, where the needs of all parties create unique sets of corollary rights and obligations. When a wrongdoing occurs, a victim’s rights have been violated in some way, either because the wrongdoer failed to act, or has acted wrongly in some way. As a result of (in)action, the wrongdoer creates a state of affairs where a set of obligations are owed to the victim, and depending on the specific nature of the wrongdoing, these can manifest as an obligation to return the stolen property, apologize, and among many other things, repent. Since the wrongdoer is the one who committed the wrong, only he or she is obligated to carry out these acts—a unique corollary obligation is created as a result of the wrongdoer’s actions. A neighbor or friend of the wrongdoer might perform similar acts, but such actions do not mitigate the responsibility of the wrongdoer to discharge his own particular obligations. So far, an eirenic account does not differ from most other accounts of forgiveness. However, where it differs most is in what happens after the wrongdoer carries out his or her obligations. If a wrongdoer discharges his obligations (e.g., returning stolen property, apologizing, and most importantly for my account, genuinely repenting) and makes being forgiven (i.e., forgiveness) a life-good, then forgiveness is something he needs in order to flourish; and according to eirenéism, he has a right to forgiveness. And just as the violation of a victim’s right(s) places unique corollary obligations on the wrongdoer to carry out particular actions, the wrongdoer’s action(s) place unique corollary obligations on the victim. It is my contention that eirenéism maintains that in such a case, the victim is obligated to provide for the needs of the wrongdoer by forgiving. As previously noted, a neighbor or friend of the victim might forgive for the wrongs they suffered, but assuming only victims can forgive for the particular wrongs committed against themselves, then such actions do not mitigate the responsibility of the victim to discharge her or his own particular obligation to forgive. 37 To avoid confusion, let me briefly address two major concerns. First, not all wrongdoers want, let alone need, forgiveness. In such cases, there is no right to forgiveness. Second, it does not follow that in cases where wrongdoers do not want forgiveness, or do not believe they have done any wrong to merit it, victims cannot forgive. Though one might argue that in such cases “forgiveness” does not apply, I have no problem accepting that a victim can personally forgive a wrong regardless of what the wrongdoer feels or does. In cases where the victim forgives without the wrongdoer’s need of forgiveness,

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we should say the victim performed an act of charity that goes above and beyond what is morally required, not that she or he carried out a duty. However, to reiterate, according to eirenic forgiveness, if the wrongdoer does make forgiveness a life-good (something needed for flourishing), then the victim is obligated to forgive, since only the victim has the proper moral standing to forgive. As I argue in Chapter 2, genuine repentance makes forgiveness a life-good for wrongdoers. 38 So, when a wrongdoer genuinely repents—which involves a multitude of moral actions to be discussed in Chapter 2—and thereby makes forgiveness a life-good, she or he is owed forgiveness. It is at this point that eirenic forgiveness becomes problematic for many people, since obligating victims to forgive seems to further victimize those who have been wronged. 39 I too am disturbed and find repugnant such a possibility, which is why I have dedicated a book to showing that such a conclusion is false. Traditional rights theories seem to lack the tools to escape the repugnancy of obligating victims to forgive, which is why I believe there is no fully developed rights-based ethic of forgiveness. In response to this shortcoming, I show that a rights-based eirenic forgiveness respects the moral worth of all individuals involved in wrongdoing, while at the same time creating a more just state of affairs that benefits victims, wrongdoers, and their shared moral community. In order to help readers understand how I will achieve my goal, the next few pages will give an overview of the book’s chapters and what I hope to achieve in each. OVERVIEW OF CHAPTERS Chapter 1 is dedicated to developing and justifying a conception of the good life called eirenéism, which serves as the foundation for a theory of inherent natural rights designed to bring about the peaceful flourishing of all moral agents. Eirenéism maintains that each human has certain life-goods (goods in one’s life or history) that contribute to making one’s life and history a good life and history, that individuals have rights to these life-goods, and that for humans to flourish, their rights must be respected. 40 Eirenéism offers a unique understanding of the good-life in terms of rights that provides valuable tools for determining when one ought to forgive. What makes eirenéism unique is that it suggests a theory of rights, explained in terms of the relational features of human morality, and provides substantive normative guidance in regard to the rights and obligations of all moral agents. After developing and explaining eirenéism, I illustrate how it can be applied to difficult moral situations, then detail eirenéism’s argument for why and when victims are obligated to forgive.

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In Chapter 2 I defend the validity of eirenéism’s argument for an obligation to forgive, by showing that genuine repentance gives wrongdoers a right to forgiveness. A careful examination of repentance will show that it is a transformative event in the life of individuals, and if repentant wrongdoers make forgiveness necessary for their flourishing, then they have a right to be forgiven. If victims are the only agents who are capable of providing forgiveness, then they are obligated to forgive. Consequently, if victims choose not to forgive, then they become wrongdoers themselves. Like most readers, on face value, I find the notion of obligating victims to forgive repugnant, especially after heinous wrongdoing. The implication is so repugnant that it threatens the acceptability of eirenéism as an ethic. In the second half of Chapter 2, I show how eirenéism avoids this repugnant implication by protecting the self-respect and rights of victims. What I argue is that eirenic forgiveness allows for the obligation to forgive to manifest in different ways, according to the individual needs of victims. In a straightforward case of a mundane wrongdoing (e.g., a lie, where I said I would play harmonica with your band tonight, but I knew I would never show), if I am genuinely repentant for the lie, then there seems to be nothing repugnant about saying my friend is obligated to forgive. However, in a case where someone vindictively breaks into my home and harms my family, but as he is walking out the door, has a change of heart, and expresses genuine repentance; I cannot imagine justifying an argument that maintains I am morally obligated to forgive at that particular moment and time. Thankfully, eirenic forgiveness does not support such an obligation. The conceptual point to understand is that even though eirenic forgiveness says I am obligated to forgive, it does not provide a single, one-dimensional answer for when and how I am to forgive. Instead of relying on contractual agreements or states of affairs, one of the appealing aspects of eirenéism is that it recognizes the complexities of interpersonal relationships and individual psychological and physical needs, and that there are times when individuals are incapable of carrying out their obligations. For instance, I might wish to give food to a starving child, but if I am also starving and have no food, then I am not obligated to give food to the child. I simply cannot discharge my obligation without causing myself great harm and possibly death. Eirenéism recognizes that “ought implies can,” but instead of saying the obligation to feed a starving child does not exist in cases when it is impossible for me to do so, it maintains that the obligation manifests as an obligation to work toward being capable of feeding the child. The ethical obligation exists regardless of my capability to forgive, but instead of denying the existence of an obligation when incapable of forgiving, the obligation manifests as a duty to work toward being capable. Eirenéism motivates all individuals to work toward both their own respective flourishing and the flourishing of others. Chapter 2 will clarify and explain the nature of

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such an obligation, and will show how such a moral framework is applied to forgiveness. Due to the nature and intimacy of forgiveness, good theoretical arguments justifying eirenic forgiveness, how it differs from other rights theories, and how it avoids being repugnant will not be enough to satisfy most readers. The remaining chapters are designed to address any remaining fears, concerns, and/or counterarguments. Chapter 3 examines the two major conceptual spheres of so-called unforgivable acts and revenge. If an act is unforgivable, then there can be no obligation to forgive in regard to that act; and if there is no obligation in regard to certain acts, then it is possible that there are no obligations to forgive, or that such possibilities are extremely rare. I begin Chapter 3 by carefully examining the concept of the “unforgivable,” arguing that eirenéism maintains that there are no fundamentally unforgivable individual acts. Granted, there are special circumstances, including spatial and temporal barriers, death, and when individual actions overlap with group actions, and that in these circumstances, a clear analysis of individual moral responsibility becomes difficult; but in terms of individual wrongdoers being responsible for individual wrongs, eirenéism maintains that no acts are psychologically or conceptually unforgivable. To help illustrate this conclusion, I will examine several difficult case studies in detail to show that no matter the heinousness of the act, all repentant wrongdoers are capable of being forgiven. The second part of Chapter 3 examines whether revenge is a justified alternative to forgiveness. One of the criticisms of forgiveness is that it asks for wrongdoers to be given less than they deserve, which by strict definition, is unjust. Revenge, on the other hand, requires wrongdoers get what they deserve. So, if eirenéism is concerned with justice, one would think it would support just acts of revenge over unjust forgiveness. A careful examination of just (i.e., virtuous) vengeance will show that eirenéism supports acts of forgiveness over acts of revenge, since forgiveness brings about a greater amount of justice than the limited retributive justice of punishment. As mentioned previously, Wolterstorff recognizes and avoids the repugnant implication of obligating victims to forgive by granting forgiveness a special status and discussing the obligation to forgive as an obligation to God. In order to help readers better-understand eirenic forgiveness, and how it differs from Wolterstorff’s account (and other religious-based accounts), Chapter 4 examines the differences between a secular eirenic forgiveness and a generalized religious obligation to forgive. Such a discussion will not only provide the basis for a secular account of eirenic forgiveness, but it will also further illustrate both the relational nature of eirenéism and how it grounds a secular theory of rights. Making clear these conceptual components will help readers see that the right to be forgiven is not some moral principle derived from deductive reasoning, but rather a carefully crafted moral obligation

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sensitive to the particular needs of individuals and the contextual features of particular cases. Chapter 5 examines the moral landscape of forgiveness and reconciliation. An underdeveloped area of forgiveness research involves the nature and relationship between these two concepts. Some authors see both forgiveness and reconciliation as the same, others see forgiveness as the means to achieve reconciliation, and yet others see reconciliation as the means to achieve forgiveness. Since eirenéism is concerned with individual and communal flourishing, understanding how individuals and communities can live together (maybe even thrive) after wrongdoing is a necessary component for fully understanding eirenic forgiveness. A careful examination of the two concepts will show that it is a mistake to conflate the two. I argue that forgiveness is fundamentally a personal process where an individual strives to come to terms with the actions of some other person, but not necessarily to be reconciled with that person. Reconciliation is fundamentally a social process that affects inter-personal relationships. Forgiveness might lead to reconciliation, and reconciliation might lead to forgiveness, but they are not the same, nor is either guaranteed if the other occurs. Chapter 5 will lay out this argument and show how one can forgive without being reconciled to the wrongdoer, and how one can be reconciled without forgiving. THE MORAL FRAMEWORK OF FORGIVENESS I will not attempt to define forgiveness. I have already mentioned several wonderful sources for the reader interested in the definition of forgiveness. Nevertheless, I would be remiss if I did not spend a few words describing the moral framework of forgiveness that will be used in this book. Unless otherwise noted, I focus on the interpersonal wrongdoing and forgiveness that occurs between two moral agents, one of which is the injured party (the victim) and the other the injurer (the wrongdoer); but as the book develops, more issues related to community support for the process of forgiveness will be included. Since my focus is moral rights, in order for a person to be a wrongdoer, she or he must violate a right (or multiple rights) of another moral agent. Eirenéism maintains that there are negative and positive rights that occur based on the moral worth of agents, their needs, and the nature of their relationship. Since eirenéism is a needs-based theory of rights, it uses both consequentialist and non-consequentialist reasoning to explain what counts as a right and when such rights are violated. It is consequentialist in the sense that needs and abilities determine an agent’s particular rights, and it is non-consequentialist in the sense that an agent’s rights create corollary obligations that ought to be respected by other moral agents.

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Focusing on interpersonal forgiveness will help readers more-easily grasp eirenéism, but since eirenéism is a relational ethic, we cannot ignore that it creates obligations for all moral agents who are in a relationship, whether intimate, communal, or otherwise. Wrongdoing and forgiveness are both deeply intimate moral transactions. An individual who sexually assaults another person has uniquely wronged the victim. Others may be hurt and wronged in their own unique way, but only the victim was sexually assaulted, which means the victim has a completely unique moral status when compared to the indirect wrong experienced by others. This moral state-ofaffairs is why some people maintain that murder is an unforgivable wrong, since the one person wronged directly by the murderer is dead. Family and friends may forgive for the wrong they encountered due to the murder, but since they did not directly suffer the wrong of being murdered, they are incapable of forgiving that particular wrong. The conceptual attempt to justify such forgiveness is called third-party forgiveness, and there are two third-party arguments relating to forgiveness that I will engage in the following chapters. The first involves community obligations to help victims and to support their mental and physical health as they work toward forgiveness. The second involves the nature of religious obligations, where individuals have certain obligations to God/gods based on their particular religious beliefs. Third-party forgiveness, such as friends and family forgiving their loved one’s murderer, will not be discussed. For those interested in such a discussion, I recommend Leonard Kahn’s “Third-Party Forgiveness.” 41 What I wish to emphasize at this point is how wrongdoing occurs in a relational network. Humans are social creatures, and often a wrong done against one is a wrong done against others. Nevertheless, the wrong done against the particular individual creates a unique relationship not shared by the others. Even in cases where the same wrong was committed against multiple people, each victim shares their own unique moral relationship with the wrongdoer. The only difference in such cases is that each victim shares an identical moral relationship in regard to the wrong committed, and even though they are identical in terms of the wrong, the damage committed by the wrong might (and often does) create non-identical physical and psychological states and responses. The ability to address the unique contextual circumstances of wrongdoing is a strength of eirenic forgiveness, one that will be thoroughly examined throughout the book. Furthermore, even though I engage several theological positions, my argument requires no theological assumptions. I am not opposed to theological assumptions, in fact I consider myself a theist, but I am convinced that any adequate moral theory will be justifiable to all rational persons, regardless of their theistic beliefs (or lack thereof). Just as the truth of logical syllogisms and mathematics are accessible to all rational agents, so too should moral

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beliefs, even though they are of a different sort of belief. On one level, providing a non-theistic 42 justification is easier than providing a theological justification. A theist, whether Christian or not, might hold the parable of the Good Samaritan as the basis for morality: that one should sacrificially give of oneself to help those in need. A theistic justification requires grounding the authority of the parable, which then requires grounding a set of other authoritative issues regarding one’s particular religious tradition. A non-theist has no such problem. For instance, Peter Singer, who is definitely not a theist, grounds the same moral lesson with the basic assumption that all unnecessary suffering is bad, which then creates certain duties to help those in need. 43 The task for Singer, and other utilitarian ethicists, is to provide a set of consistent moral reasons for why unnecessary suffering is bad. For most, this is a much easier task than justifying a religious framework (e.g., God/ gods, revelation, scriptures, authority, etc.), which then justifies a moral framework. On another level, especially in terms of rights, providing a theistic argument is sometimes easier. One of the biggest conceptual issues facing any rightstheory is determining what grounds a right. Ethics begins with a claim of value. Rights-theories typically claim that there is something valuable about a certain entity that grounds their claim to particular rights. For much of the history of rights, value has been located in humans—or more precisely, humans with certain capabilities, which we call “persons.” As Wolterstorff convincingly illustrates, there is a lack of good secular arguments for what grounds human worth. 44 It is easy for a non-theist to ground person-worth, since the value rests on the capacity of an agent to be or perform certain mental functions, like the capacity to be rationally autonomous; but not all humans have such capacities (e.g., unborn, young children, mentally disabled, and senior adults with diminished mental functioning). A non-theist’s options for grounding a human right, then, are limited and run the risk of being arbitrary and/or unjustifiably biased. If, on the other hand, one is a theist and holds certain assumptions about the nature of God/gods and God’s/gods’ relationship to humans, then it is much easier to show that God’s/gods’ relationship to humans creates a unique moral worth that grounds their rights. In the face of this difficulty, it is my contention that eirenéism, along with some conceptual arguments offered by the likes of Carol Gould 45 and Martha Nussbaum, 46 offer a foothold for grounding rights in the relational recognition between humans and non-humans, which I develop in Chapters 1 and 4. Regardless of the relative ease or difficulty of providing a theistic or non-theistic account, my goal is to provide a non-theistic argument for accepting eirenéism and its resulting ethic of forgiveness. Some readers might complain that eirenéism is inherently religious, since it is based in the Hebrew concept of shalom, but just because a concept was first formulated within a religious community does not imply that it is inherently religious, requiring special religious-based ontological commitments.

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Arendt maintains that Jesus was the first to use forgiveness in our contemporary way, but few think forgiveness is merely a religious category. 47 Many mathematical, technological, and medical discoveries/advances were made by Muslims during the West’s medieval period, but we do not think these advances (e.g., Arabic numbers) inherently religious. The so-called Golden Rule is found throughout history in multiple cultures and societies, and though often associated with different religions, it is widely accepted as a general moral rule based in practical wisdom, not any particular theistic explanation. Furthermore, some might complain that eirenéism is fundamentally religious due to its stringent moral formulation of rights and obligations. It is true that eirenéism justifies a strong ethic that demands much from individuals, one that is amenable to certain religious convictions (e.g., the parable of the Good Samaritan); but its amenability to religious frameworks should not imply that eirenéism is merely a veiled religious ethic. As Charles Camosy shows, Singer also justifies a strong ethic that requires much from individuals, and it is amenable to a well-grounded Christian ethic; but again, we would not say Singer is a Christian. 48 Instead of seeking to undermine our ethical system by saying it requires too much, or that non-theistic ethical systems should be in some way weaker than a religious ethic, we should accept that strong moral demands are a good thing in ethics. What a theory demands of its agents should not be too great, but it should be challenging, so that it does not simply dissolve into moral egoism. One of the major motives of this book is to show that neither eirenéism nor its ethic of forgiveness demands too much. With the above in mind, my interest is not in defining “forgiveness,” but in the moral relationship surrounding the phenomena of forgiveness and its related concepts. So instead of trying to develop a unique definition of forgiveness, I depend on the valuable research provided by others, some already mentioned above. Nevertheless, to clarify what I have in mind when I use “forgiveness,” I will spend the next few paragraphs discussing what I take to be (and not to be) forgiveness. In a very broad sense, as Paul Hughes suggests, forgiveness is simply a moral response—one among many, such as anger, hatred, revenge, etc.—to being wronged by another. 49 We saw something similar, but more specific, in the quote from Murphy above: forgiveness is the “overcoming, on moral grounds, of the intense negative reactive attitudes—the vindictive passions of resentment, anger, hatred, and the desire for revenge . . .” 50 Joram Haber describes forgiveness as a personal response to moral injury that preserves self-respect. 51 I agree with all of these statements. I would also agree that there are certain basic assumptions that should be made when talking of forgiveness. Following Charles Griswold, the following seem necessary for the term “forgiveness” to be relevant to the discussion:

Introduction

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

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A wrong has been committed; A person (the wrongdoer) is responsible for the wrong; Resentment for the wrong is warranted; The wrongdoer is the proper object of both resentment and forgiveness; Forgiveness is a process; and Resentment is a species of moral hatred that is deliberate. 52

I am, however, hesitant to add much more. Take, for instance, the rest of Griswold’s account of forgiveness. In Griswold’s prologue to Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration, he maintains that forgiveness is “not simply” a therapeutic way to deal with injury, pain, or anger, forgetfulness, avoidance, rationalization, or pragmatic acceptance. He, then, provides a careful and insightful analysis that suggest paradigmatic forgiveness occurs when the following conditions are met: A. Conditions of the wrongdoer 1. Demonstrate that she no longer wishes to stand by herself as the author of the wrong; 2. Repudiate her deeds and disavow that she would author those deeds again; 3. Experience and express regret at having caused said wrong; 4. Commit to becoming the sort of person who does not inflict injury, both with words and deeds; 5. Show she understands, from the injured person’s perspective; and 6. Give an account and answer questions. B. Conditions of the victim 1. 2. 3. 4.

Forswear revenge; Moderation of resentment; Commit to letting go of resentment; Reframing of the wrongdoer’s character: a change in the belief that the wrongdoer is a “bad” person; 5. Reframing of oneself: she does not see herself as “just” a victim; and 6. Address the wrongdoer and declare her forgiven. 53 There are several components of Griswold’s paradigmatic forgiveness that I like and would agree with, but I worry that the more one tries to pin down an accurate (and unchanging) definition of “true forgiveness,” the less it will be capable of capturing the phenomenon of forgiveness in a wide range of actual cases. To make clear, I am not suggesting that a definition of forgiveness is impossible, nor that we just accept forgiveness as a term

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relative to each individual. Like Kathryn Norlock, however, I worry that trying to define “true” forgiveness sets us up for failure, both conceptually and pragmatically—in the sense that we create a biased definition that exalts certain instances of forgiveness over other equally praiseworthy instances. 54 If we are too hasty in our desire to define “true forgiveness,” we risk biasing our definition. As Haber illustrates with his “Judy and Lewis” case, in “Forgiveness and Feminism,” assuming all individuals are guided by the same motives and interpretive frameworks of justice and equity runs the risk of creating a “masculinist” definition that excludes all instances of forgiveness that do not fit standard accounts of “true forgiveness.” 55 To overcome this conceptual difficulty, and to allow each reader the opportunity to incorporate her or his own understanding of forgiveness into my analysis, when I refer to “forgiveness,” I mean something along the lines of what Adam Morton calls the “forgiveness territory.” In “What is Forgiveness?,” Morton describes this territory as “the bundle of mutually sustaining practices, ideas, and theories that center on people doing something roughly like forgiving one another for wrongs.” 56 In agreement with Scarre, forgiveness is a “multi-form phenomenon, a broad and varied family of practices.” 57 These practices contain a family of emotions like blame, responsibility, and excuse, 58 and involve complex personal, interpersonal, and communal actions. Again, for the reader wanting a more precise definition of “forgiveness,” I suggest seeing one of the great resources mentioned above. For now, I would rather the reader bring her or his own understanding of “forgiveness” to the analysis put forth in this book; for in that way my book serves as a means of creating dialogue between my arguments and each reader. Each reader, then, can judge the merit(s) of my arguments in relation to her or his own particular definition, which should then generate further dialogue and moral progress. To that end, let us begin. NOTES 1. Jeffrie G. Murphy and Jean Hampton, Forgiveness and Mercy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). 2. Jacques Derrida, On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness, trans. Mark Dooley and Michael Hughes, with a preface by Simon Critchley and Richard Kearney (New York: New York, 2001). 3. Murphy, Getting Even: Forgiveness and Its Limits (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 4. Vladimir Jankélévitch, Forgiveness, trans. Andrew Kelley (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005). 5. Charles Griswold, Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). 6. Kathryn Norlock, Forgiveness from a Feminist Perspective (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, a division of Rowman and Littlefield Publishing, 2009). 7. Norlock, The Moral Psychology of Forgiveness (London and New York: Rowman and Littlefield, 2017).

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8. Margaret Holmgren, Forgiveness and Retribution: Responding to Wrongdoing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 9. David Konstan, Forgiveness: The Origins of a Moral Idea (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 10. Glen Pettigrove, Forgiveness and Love (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). 11. Martha Nussbaum, Anger and Forgiveness: Resentment, Generosity, Justice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 12. Court Lewis, ed., The Philosophy of Forgiveness: Volume I, Explorations of Forgiveness: Personal, Relational, and Religious (Wilmington, DE: Vernon Press, 2016). 13. Lewis, ed., The Philosophy of Forgiveness: Volume II, New Dimensions of Forgiveness (Wilmington, DE: Vernon Press, 2016). 14. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice: Rights and Wrongs (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008). 15. Wolterstorff, Justice in Love (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2011). 16. For now, I will use the term “person” as a general term for “an individual who is part of the moral community.” When the difference between “person right” and “human right” becomes relevant, I will be more precise with my usage. 17. Eirenéism comes from the Greek translation of the Hebrew word shalom, which is eirenē. Shalom and eirenē are both typically translated in English as “peace.” Hence, eirenéism is a conception of the good life that maintains creating a state of peace should be the goal of moral agents. This will be fully explained in the next chapter. Chapter 1 will cover some of the features of eirenéism, but for a more detailed account, and for a comparison with other major ethical theories, see: Court Lewis, “Understanding Peace within Contemporary Moral Theory,” Philosophia: Philosophical Quarterly of Israel 41, no. 4 (2013): 1049–1068. 18. There are different usages of the term “eirenéism.” Since the publication of Wolterstorff’s Justice: Rights and Wrongs, the more common usage appears to be “eirenism,” with “eirenic” being the adjectival usage. I will follow Wolterstorff’s usage of “eirenéism” and adopt “eirenic” as its adjective (e.g., eirenic forgiveness). 19. Wolterstorff, Rights and Wrongs, 384. 20. Wolterstorff discusses the same argument in: Nicholas Wolterstorff, “Jesus and Forgiveness,” in Jesus and Philosophy: New Essays, ed. Paul K. Moser (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 194–214. 21. Wolterstorff, Rights and Wrongs, 383. 22. Throughout the book I will use “duty” and “obligation” as synonyms for “something a moral agent is morally required (i.e., ought) to do.” 23. Murphy, Punishment and the Moral Emotions: Essays in Law, Morality, and Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 6. 24. Griswold, 49–51. 25. Holmgren, 3. 26. Geoffrey Scarre, After Evil: Responding to Wrongdoing (England and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004). 27. Norlock, Feminist Perspective. 28. Jessica Wolfendale, “The Hardened Heart: The Moral Dangers of Not Forgiving,” Journal of Social Philosophy 36, no. 3 (2005): 344–363. 29. Joseph Butler, Sermon IX, “Upon Forgiveness of Injuries,” in The Works of Joseph Butler, Volume II, ed. W. E. Gladstone (London: Clarendon Press, 1896). 30. Miroslav Volf, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2006). 31. Wolterstorff, Rights and Wrongs and Justice in Love. 32. Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958), 238. 33. Isador Twersky, Introduction to the Code of Maimonides (Mishneh Torah) (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1980). 34. Chawkat Moucarry, The Search for Forgiveness: Pardon and Punishment in Islam and Christianity (Nottingham, England: Inter-Varsity Press, 2011), 37.

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35. Christopher Ketcham, “Buddhism and the End to Forgiveness,” in The Philosophy of Forgiveness, Volume I, Explorations of Forgiveness: Personal Relational, and Religious, ed. Court Lewis (Wilmington, DE, and Malaga, Spain: Vernon Press, 2016). 36. Man-to TANG, “The Double Intentionality of Forgiveness: A Non-reductive Account of Forgiveness in Ricoeur and Confucius,” in The Philosophy of Forgiveness, Volume I, Explorations of Forgiveness: Personal Relational, and Religious, ed. Court Lewis (Wilmington, DE, and Malaga, Spain: Vernon Press, 2016). 37. In order to stay focused on developing the strongest possible account, I will mainly focus on interpersonal forgiveness between two parties, ignoring questions of whether thirdparties can forgive. For such an argument see: A. G. Holdier, “The Heart of the Matter: Forgiveness as an Aesthetic Process,” in The Philosophy of Forgiveness: Volume II, New Dimensions of Forgiveness, ed. Court D. Lewis (Wilmington, DE: Vernon Press, 2016), 47–70. 38. There are cases where wrongdoers repent, and because of the needs of victims choose to forego forgiveness, which I will examine later in the book. However, in such cases, forgiveness is still a life-good, but as part of the repentance process, forgiveness becomes a secondary or tertiary need. 39. Martha Nussbaum notes another reason: that such a “transactional approach” (especially prominent in the Jewish practices of teshuvah, which seems to require victims accept a wrongdoer’s apology) fosters continued hatred. See: Martha Nussbaum, Anger and Forgiveness: Resentment, Generosity, Justice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 62–63. 40. By “respect,” I simply mean that when a moral agent acts accordingly in regard to the rights of others, either by acting or refraining from acting in certain ways, they have respect for that agent’s right(s). 41. Leonard Kahn, “Third Party Forgiveness,” in The Philosophy of Forgiveness: Volume II, New Dimensions of Forgiveness, ed. Court D. Lewis (Wilmington, DE: Vernon Press, 2016), 15–45. 42. I will often use the term “non-theistic” (or “non-theist”) in lieu of “secular” and “atheist.” “Secular” and “atheism” carry certain conceptual baggage for some readers, whereas “non-theistic” captures the class of all accounts that do not rely on the existence of God/gods without any of the baggage. 43. Charles Camosy, Peter Singer and Christian Ethics: Beyond Polarization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 44. Wolterstorff, Rights and Wrongs. 45. Carol Gould, Globalizing Democracy and Human Rights (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004). 46. Nussbaum, Anger and Forgiveness. 47. Arendt, 209. 48. Camosy, 1–10. 49. Paul Hughes, “On Forgiving Oneself: A Reply to Snow,” The Journal of Value Inquiry 28, no. 4 (1994): 557–560. 50. Murphy, Punishment and the Moral Emotions. 51. Joram Haber, “Forgiveness and Feminism,” in Norms and Values: Essays on the Work of Virginia Held, eds. Joram G. Haber and Mark S. Halfon (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998). 141. 52. Griswold, Forgiveness, 47. 53. Ibid., 49–51. 54. Norlock, Feminist Perspective. 55. Haber, 146–147. 56. Adam Morton, “What is Forgiveness?” Ancient Forgiveness: Classical, Judaic, and Christian, ed. Charles Griswold and David Konstan (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 4. 57. Scarre, After Evil, 31. 58. Morton, 7.

Chapter One

Life-Goods and the Grounding of Eirenic Rights

The introduction provided a brief glimpse into the nature of eirenéism, but to fully make sense of how it grounds a unique approach to forgiveness, especially one that obligates individuals to forgive in some circumstances, much more needs to be said. In this chapter I provide the necessary explanation that will serve as the groundwork for an eirenic, rights-based forgiveness. To this end, the main focus of the chapter will be on describing what counts as a right, which can vary greatly depending on what grounds (i.e., justifies) individual rights. Eirenéism distinguishes itself from most prominent rightstheories, such as Contractarianism, by suggesting that rights result from the particular needs of individuals, instead of from rationally agreed upon protections guaranteed by some sort of contract, either naturally, socially, or through some other procedure. Clearly understanding the distinction between rights based on needs and those based on social contract theory will show why rights are typically absent from discussions of forgiveness, while also illustrating how eirenéism grounds a rights-based ethic of forgiveness. The use of needs to ground a set of normative practices is not new. There are accounts such as utilitarianism and eudaimonism that incorporate needs into their consequentialist frameworks, in order to explain how agents can maximize pleasure or promote virtuous flourishing. Even within rights-talk, needs are sometimes discussed as the features protected by a moral contract. For instance, life, liberty, and the pursuit of one’s conception of the good, or the rights protected by John Rawls’s two principles of justice, are arguably all needs. It is not uncommon, then, for rights-talk to examine human needs in order to develop a non-consequentialist normative account that requires agents to equally respect the rights of all individuals bound by the moral contract. Eirenéism, however, suggests an integrated approach that utilizes 1

2

Chapter One

both non-consequentialist features that provide for the general protections of all agents and consequentialist features that allow for the contextual features of each individual’s needs to be considered. So, instead of making blanket and abstract universal claims about individual rights, though there are several such universal individual rights, eirenéism asks agents to consider the actual needs of individuals, consider the nature of those needs in relation to others, and then calculate how best to ensure that individual needs are met. Each individual need represents an individual right, and those capable of making such rights available are therefore morally obligated to do so. In order to make sense of this ancient, though only recently discussed ethic, the concept of need requires adequate development. Some work has been done on the philosophy of need, both directly and indirectly, but there is wide-variation in terminology and application. My hope is to tie some of this work together, so as to help clarify how we should understand “need” and to justify the claim that if to be forgiven is a need, then those capable of forgiving are morally obligated to do so. More specifically, “need” will be distinguished from “desire,” “preference,” and “want,” and defined in terms of both basic biological needs required for human existence and fundamental needs required for human flourishing. In keeping with Nicholas Wolterstorff’s usage in Justice: Right and Wrongs, “life-good” will be used as representing the combination of both biological and fundamental needs. Anyone who has spent time engaging in a philosophical or theological debate is aware of how terminology is used and reused in a variety of different ways. Sadly, there appears no way to avoid using terms used in multiple ways, except to create new words that eventually evolve in their own way. To avoid creating a new term or a new moral language, I will follow Wolterstorff’s lead by using “life-good” to refer to that to which one has a right, illustrating how such life-goods should be understood as the needs required for human flourishing. On a final note, readers will notice the absence of a substantial direct discussion of forgiveness in the chapter, but rest assured, forgiveness is the indirect focus of the chapter. Without a clear understanding of eirenéism, eirenic forgiveness will make little to no sense, and will surely fail to have the ring of any truth for readers. By the end of the chapter, however, I develop the main argument for why forgiveness is at times obligatory. Understanding how life-goods (as needs) create rights will show that if all people have rights to basic life-goods, and forgiveness is (or becomes) a lifegood, then it follows there are instances when individuals can claim a right to forgiveness. Showing that forgiveness is a life-good, and addressing the implications of such an outcome, will be addressed in following chapters.

Life-Goods and the Grounding of Eirenic Rights

3

EIRENIC RIGHTS The foundational principle of eirenéism is that each human 1 has inherent moral worth that grounds a set of corollary rights and obligations between all moral agents. 2 It would be quite easy to devote many pages to unpacking this one principle, but instead of delving into a defense of human rights at this point, which I cover in Chapter 3, for now I will simply assume that humans (broadly construed) have the inherent worth suggested by eirenéism. So, if each human has inherent moral worth, then according to eirenéism, each human has a set of life-goods (e.g., food, water, shelter, clean air, etc.) and life-history goods (e.g., reputation) to which they have a right. (To simplify the discussion, “life-goods” will be used to cover both categories, unless distinguishing them is necessary.) Life-goods are determined by the particular needs of individuals, and since humans exist in relation to other humans, these life-goods create a social web of rights and obligations between all moral agents. When each person’s life-goods are respected, by either having their needs met, or by others discharging their responsibilities to make said life-goods available, then justice occurs—what an eirenist calls peace. Stated differently, an agent’s inherent worth grounds a particular set of rights, while at the same time producing a set of obligations for other moral agents to respect these rights, and vice versa. Much of this is consistent with traditional and contemporary Contractarian rights-theory. Whether Lockean, Rawlsian, or some other form of social contract theory, Contractarianism creates a broad set of rights designed to protect individuals (and sometimes communities) from the abuse of others. In fact, eirenéism will share many of the same rights developed under Contractarian ethics. The conceptual shortcoming that makes Contractarianism ill-suited for forgiveness-talk is that it appears incapable of taking account of the particular needs of individuals and the contextual features of specific acts of wrongdoing. It does a fantastic job of setting ethical boundaries that help us identify wrongdoing, and it grounds a strong theory of justice that obligates victims to respond to wrongdoing in certain ways; but it lacks the conceptual tools to provide clear guidance in regard to the actual needs of individuals who have been wronged, or who have wronged. As will be seen later in the chapter, this shortcoming implies that victims have a moral obligation to forgive, even if forgiveness causes great suffering for the victim. Such a conclusion is repugnant, but can be avoided, if one employs a theory of eirenic rights. Eirenéism’s use of non-consequentialist and consequentialist justifications opens new conceptual avenues for applying rights-talk to forgiveness. Eirenéism is a dynamic rights-based ethical theory that focuses on the normative social relationships between individuals; one that uses consequentialist justifications to determine what one has a right to, and non-consequen-

4

Chapter One

tialist justifications to ground a set of obligations based on an entity’s worth, in order to create an ethic focused on bringing about shalom (i.e., peace). The principle of correlatives offers a representational formulation of the sort of rights theory supported by eirenéism: If Y belongs to the sort of entity that can have rights, then X has an obligation toward Y to do or refrain from doing A if and only if Y has a right against X to X’s doing or refraining from doing A. 3

Wolterstorff uses the principle of correlatives as a framework to show that each moral agent has certain claim-rights (rights to which one can make a claim) that correlate to certain obligations that others have to respect those rights. So, unlike rights theories that focus primarily on the negative rights of individuals and the negative rights of others to not infringe upon those rights, eirenéism maintains there are both a set of negative rights that tell us not to infringe upon others’ rights, and there are positive rights (i.e., obligations) that require us to make available the goods to which others have rights. To borrow Wolterstorff’s favorite example, imagine your right to go for a walk in a public park. Your right to go for a walk only occurs in relation to every other moral agent, which means for you to enjoy your walk, all other moral agents have a corollary obligation not to prevent you from enjoying your right to go for a walk. This description of a negative right (a right to not have others interfere) is nothing new, and even for non-rights theorists, such a state of affairs is often obligatory. Eirenéism, however, goes further, and suggests moral agents are obligated to also provide for the life-goods of others, if possible and when appropriate. For instance, imagine a friend who is going through a difficult time in her life: e.g., her mother died. At this point in her life she needs the company and comfort of a close friend, and assuming you are such a friend, eirenéism maintains you have a moral obligation to console your friend. Your friend’s need of consolation is a lifegood, since it is what she needs in order to peacefully flourish, and unless there are morally significant reasons for why you are incapable of consoling, you are required to attend to her life-good. At this point some critics will balk at the moral requirements of eirenéism, suggesting that the consolation of a friend might be morally praiseworthy, or a feature of one’s character, but it cannot be considered obligatory. Such a critique assumes that actions such as consoling a friend should be motivated by something other than a sense of obligation. You console your friend because it is the nice thing to do, it is a gift of your time, or it is what you would want, but in no way do the needs of someone else (no matter the relationship) create such reciprocal obligations. Such an assumption, however, is mistaken.

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There can be several types of friendship, and each type will entail a different relationship with unique moral features. The person who is merely a “friend” on social media might request that I share some post, but I am under no obligation to do so, since our friendship is based on the thinnest of acquaintances, via some Internet platform. A person to whom I have a close and mutually beneficial relationship with requires a different set of responses. If a close friend asks me personally (i.e., not a random, mass request) to post something, say about mental illness, then unless I have some good reason(s), like that I struggle with mental illness and worry others might discover my ailment and ridicule me if I post, then I should agree to my friend’s request. If I do not post the material, then the closeness of my friendship should be questioned. Of course, this is an oversimplification, but the point is that the nature of friendship requires certain reciprocal actions, or it is difficult to make sense of what it means by “friend.” Eirenéism asks us to rethink the nature of relationships. Instead of seeing people as atomistic individuals, devoid of any moral requirements produced by others or contained in contracts, eirenéism challenges us to see that we are all individuals-in-relation to others, and any of the actions associated with particular relationships are the result of what it means to be in such a relationship, not merely “gifts” we give others because of the relationship. Our goods and the goods of others are dependent upon the particularities of our existence. So, on a general level, I have a set of rights and obligations that exist simply by being a human in relation to other humans, but as I create and join more meaningful relationships, I take on a set of enhanced rights and obligations. For example, the parents of a child have stronger obligations to care for their child than a next-door neighbor, though if the parents fail to discharge their responsibilities to provide for their child, the neighbor’s obligation manifests and she or he becomes responsible to ensure for the care of the child, whether through calling child services or via some other means. Such an obligation always exists for the neighbor (for all neighbors), but due to the nature of the parent-child relationship, the neighbor’s obligation to care does not manifest unless the parents fail to perform their duties. The same sort of relational hierarchy exists in all relationships. One of the best examples of such a relational hierarchy is marriage. When individuals enter into a marriage relationship, they take on certain obligations above and beyond their prior relational status as friends, which had its own obligations beyond their relationship as acquaintances. The love a married couple shares is more than simply a gift between two atomistic individuals or an agreement to respect a contract. It is true that marriage has a contractual component, especially in terms of the civil aspect of the agreement, but marriage promises (i.e., vows) go much deeper and are more general than any legal, civil contract. Marriage vows are a set of promises to respect the rights (i.e., life goods/needs) of the other. The love between married individuals is, there-

6

Chapter One

fore, more than simply each separate other giving the gift of one’s time and energy in the name of love; it is a matter of carrying out obligations, as a way of demonstrating that both parties are loved in a way that is deep and respectful. So, when I choose not to cheat on my wife, it is not because I am granting her the gift of my faithfulness. I am faithful because it is what I have promised, and therefore am obligated to do so as a husband. Close friendships are similar, if not in some cases morally identical relationships. Though most friendships do not include a formal ceremony like a marriage, when a person claims to be a friend to another, whether close or shallow, they are referencing a relationship with a set of corollary rights and obligations. Like marriage, the particulars of their moral relationship will depend on what sort of friendship they share, but they will exist nonetheless. So, if a shallow friend asks me to console him, I might do so; because I feel like it is what he deserves as a fellow moral being, but any moral requirement I might have rests on the latter, not the former. Whereas, if a close friend asks the same, I ought to make time to console, unless doing so is too great of a burden for me to carry. This line of reasoning will be seen throughout the book, for it is a major—if not, the most important—conceptual point to understanding eirenéism. To see its importance, consider Miroslav Volf’s description of eirenéism, who says eirenéism requires individuals to live their lives “in harmony with and delight in the physical world, fellow human beings, God, and themselves.” 4 “When I care, then I attend not just to a person’s rights—respecting them as well as making sure that others respect them—but also to her needs, her wants, and her delights; then I take an interest in her, in her particularity, and for her own sake, and I seek to enhance her life-goods. It takes mutual generosity of this sort, as well as mutual respect for rights, for human beings to flourish fully.” 5 Volf’s description is influenced by the theological features of eirenéism, but regardless of one’s own religious leanings, it makes an important general point. The peace eirenéism envisions is a moral landscape where agents work together to become aware of the needs of both oneself and others; this is why eirenéism focuses on compassion and awareness of vulnerability. With the needs of all moral agents in mind, eirenéism maintains that one should work toward providing for one’s own needs and the needs of others—refraining from hindering others obtaining life-goods, and, if possible, providing for the life-goods for others. AN ETHIC OF NEED The key philosophical issue that must be addressed is whether a plausible account of the existence and nature of life-goods can be developed. As will be seen in Chapter 3, grounding eirenéism in some sort of theological ac-

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7

count provides the conceptual basis for the existence of life-goods, but I will at this time refrain from engaging theological arguments. For now, I will develop a non-religious (secular) account, in order to provide an argument in favor of life-goods that is amenable to non-theists. Life-goods are states or events that are good for one’s flourishing. It might be tempting to equate “flourishing” with “happiness,” “preference,” and/or “desire satisfaction,” but to do so would be a mistake, for it would make eirenéism nothing more than a veiled type of utilitarianism or expressivism. In order to ground something as strong as a right, “flourishing” must be grounded in something more basic and substantial than a desire or preference, yet for a right to ground a satisfactory account of forgiveness, it must also be capable of making sense of the consequentialist features of eirenéism, which allows for the consideration of the particularities of individuals and situations. So, the tension lies in how we understand a person’s needs. “Need,” like “flourishing,” has several connotations, but as Soran Reader quotes David Wiggins in The Philosophy of Need, there was “a time when ‘everyone knew in practice what need meant, knew a need from a mere desire, and knew a vital need from a need which was less than that.’” 6 According to Reader, “need” lost it clarity and precision when it became associated with the maximization of economic goods, which is directly tied to the utilitarian association of “need” with “desire.” Alasdair MacIntyre observes the same phenomenon in his recent book, Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity, where he examines the association of needs with the maximization of preference, or as the expression of our desires. MacIntyre suggests it was this phenomenon that led to a shift in moral language and understanding. 7 Economists and utilitarians will often conflate “need” and “desire,” as referring to the same phenomenon. This conflation has made its way to ordinary language, which is substantiated by the way many people talk. A child says, “I need this game,” while an adult says, “I need this phone,” but both uses of “need” are substitutes for “desire.” Both the child and the adult desire an object that will bring them pleasure or satisfaction, but they in no way need these objects, at least not in the sense that they will cease to live, or they will be irreparably damaged either physically or mentally. Because of the intimate connection between work, money, and desire-satisfying consumer goods, needs-talk has become equated with economic talk. As a result, people’s actions are calculated in terms of an exchange. Even basic activities have come to incorporate such ideas, as when a parent says, “I took care of you for 18 years, it’s now your turn to take care of me.” In other words, I gave you X, and you owe me Y. This sort of economic explanation of the parent-child relationship obscures the deeper reality of the relationship, one that is grounded in much more than an exchange of goods and services, yet has become commonplace due to the widespread conflation of “need” with “desire.” The same occurs on a personal level, when described in terms of

8

Chapter One

work and consumption. An individual expends a great deal of energy and time at a job that he might not enjoy, in order to receive payment for his work, in order to use that payment to fill his life with individual goods and services. Some of these goods and services will be needs, but though many will merely serve the purpose of desire satisfaction, they are all conceptualized as needs. To see that needs should not be equated solely with desires, we need only to examine the nature of biological needs. If someone is starving, then to say they desire (or want) food is an ambiguous misuse of the term “desire.” It is true they want/desire food, but their need for food goes deeper than mere preference satisfaction. If they do not receive food, they will die. If the child does not get a game, or the adult a phone, they will not die. The “want” in the latter two examples is that of a desire or preference. The “want” in the case of an individual who is starving is that of a deep, vital biological need. There are many such vital needs, such as air to breathe, water to drink, sufficient protection from the natural elements, in the form of clothing and shelter, and among others, the means to maintain a minimal level of health. Since these vital biological needs are necessary for survival, they are objectively quantifiable, since in their absence individuals cease to exist. Eirenéism is concerned with vital biological needs, but it is not limited by them. The “need” of eirenéism is much deeper and personalized, similar to MacIntyre’s description: What individuals need is that without which they will be unable in adult life to engage in those activities and to discharge those responsibilities that are the mark of a fully participant member of their society. Their needs are not only biological needs. Indeed, individuals whose needs so understood are met also need to enjoy at least some aspects of their lives and to find point and purpose in their activities. It matters therefore what attitudes, feelings, and desires are elicited in the course of their everyday routines, as they meet their needs, engage in activities, discharge responsibilities, and pursue enjoyments. 8

Since eirenéism is concerned with the promotion of individuals’ peaceful flourishing, which requires individuals to enjoy the goods needed for survival, but also the goods required for peace, the conception of need that grounds life-goods must be thoroughly examined and understood. MacIntyre provides a glimpse of the conceptual understanding of need that eirenéism employs, but to fully expand the scope of our discussion so as to adequately encompass the needs associated with flourishing, it will be helpful to examine three accounts of “needs,” from Garrett Thomson, Martha Nussbaum, and Nicholas Wolterstorff. Thomson discusses needs as “unimpeachable values,” which he maintains should be thought of as “fundamental needs”:

Life-Goods and the Grounding of Eirenic Rights

9

X is a fundamental need for person A, when X is a non-derivative, noncircumstantially specific and an inescapable necessary condition in order for the person A not to undergo serious harm. 9

It would be easy to interpret Thomson’s definition as focusing on biological needs, but as he makes clear, fundamental needs are inescapable, and to understand such a claim the notion of “non-derivative” must be unpacked. As stated by Thomson, a fundamental need is an inescapable necessity of life. If a need is derivative of some desire, then it is no longer an inescapable necessity. For instance, my hunger is the result of my inescapable necessity for food. However, the desire to satiate my hunger with a slice of pizza is not an inescapable necessity. It is a desire that derives from my particular tastes and enjoyment of pizza. Since such “need” is merely derivative of my desires, then one can undermine my claim for the need of pizza by showing that, in fact, I ought not have pizza; I actually need something with higher nutritional value. Looking closely at this example, three features are evident. First, there is the biological need for food. Second, there is a contextual desire for a specific type of food. Between these two, however, is a third feature; the need for a nutritional meal that will contribute to my flourishing. To say the first feature is a need is uncontroversial, for without food we will die. Saying the second feature is derivative of my contextual desires is also uncontroversial. To say the third feature is non-derivative, however, might be questioned; for even though it falls short of a derivative contextual need, it introduces the concept of flourishing, which is qualitatively different from merely having one’s biological needs met. The nature of this third type of need must be shown to be non-derivative, for such a need is required for justifying eirenéism’s conception of life-goods. Without the proper grounding of life-goods, eirenéism risks becoming a veiled version of utilitarianism or eudaimonism. Thomson’s fundamental needs are inescapable in the sense that they are essential to the nature of the person—one cannot forgo them without suffering serious harm to one’s life. Stated differently, fundamental needs are associated with what we must have in order to live the good life of moral beings. To lack such needs is to suffer moral harm. Desire-satisfaction, on the other hand, often only temporarily affects one’s physical and/or mental well-being. For instance, preventing someone from eating a non-nutritious meal, while replacing it with something nutritious, might cause temporary harm, but it actually promotes long-term well-being. Therefore, giving me what I desire (in some cases) inhibits my flourishing, and as such, desires that do not lead to my well-being cannot be considered life-goods—I have no right to what prevents my peaceful flourishing. On the other hand, giving me what I need promotes my flourishing, and even though I might be confused

10

Chapter One

about my needs and desires, it is the need to which I have a right, even if I do not desire it. Of course, human flourishing requires more than nutrition. We are complex animals with physical, emotional, spiritual, and communal needs, all of which influence whether or not we flourish. The reason it is so difficult to discuss and identify fundamental needs is because individuals have varying fundamental needs, often based on the particularities of bio-chemistry, their early living environment, and the communal lessons and interactions they receive as infants, children, and adolescents. However, just because it is difficult to identify such needs, does not imply they do not exist or that we should not try to identify them. Thomson does not provide a complete explanation, but he does offer one part of the solution. As Thomson notes, “Our motivational make-up cannot be entirely irrelevant to our well-being.” 10 In other words, desires serve as guides for fundamental needs. 11 Distinguishing a fundamental need from a derived desire requires a careful analysis of the desires and needs of individuals, with an eye toward differentiating the general fundamental need from the particular contextual desire. Just as a desire for a particular food can be traced back to the fundamental need for the nutrition contained within said food, other (social, emotional, spiritual, etc.) desires can be traced back to the fundamental needs associated with human well-being. It is this sort of tracing that will help illustrate what is needed for our flourishing, whether a matter of food, or as will be argued later, a matter of forgiveness. At this point, Martha Nussbaum’s capabilities approach adds clarity to the current discussion of how to distinguish fundamental needs from desires. In Frontiers of Justice, Nussbaum discusses human needs as “core human entitlements that should be respected and implemented by the governments of all nations, as a bare minimum of what respect for human dignity requires.” 12 Nussbaum’s goal is to formulate a list of central human capabilities that are required to be respected for human dignity to flourish, in order to promote their adoption by political bodies around the world. Such a goal might seem far removed from the current discussion, however, Nussbaum’s capabilities approach is relevant in the following two ways. First, her discussion helps illuminate the components of human existence that are necessary for flourishing, and second, the social aspects of her account, which maintain there is a responsibility of all citizens to ensure other citizens exist above the minimal threshold of flourishing, matches the normative social framework of eirenéism. To better understand Nussbaum’s capabilities approach, it is helpful to review what she lists as “Central Human Capabilities.” Note the contextual nature of the capabilities and think of what would be required of an ethic to ensure some (if not all) are respected.

Life-Goods and the Grounding of Eirenic Rights

11

1. Life: Being able to live to the end of a human life of normal length; not dying prematurely, or before one’s life is so reduced as to be not worth living. 2. Bodily Health: Being able to have good health, including reproductive health; to be adequately nourished, to have adequate shelter. 3. Bodily Integrity: Being able to move freely from place to place; to be secure against violent assault, including sexual assault and domestic violence; having opportunities for sexual satisfaction and for choice in matters of reproduction. 4. Senses, Imagination, and Thought: Being able to use the senses to imagine, think, and reason, in a way informed and cultivated by an adequate education; to use these to produce works and events of one’s choice, religious, literary, musical, and so forth; and to have the exercise of these choices protected. 5. Emotions: Being able to have attachments to things and people outside ourselves, and to not have these blighted by fear and anxiety. 6. Practical Reason: Being able to form a conception of the good and to engage in critical reflection about the planning of one’s life. 7. Affiliation: Being able to live with and toward others; to engage in various forms of social interaction; being treated as a dignified being whose worth is equal to others. 8. Other Species: Being able to live with concern for and in relation to animals, plants, and the world of nature. 9. Play: Being able to laugh, to play, to enjoy recreational activities. 10. Control over One’s Environment: Being able to participate effectively in political choices; being able to hold property and have property rights protected on an equal basis with others. 13 Nussbaum formulates these capabilities for political purposes, to serve as starting points for protecting individuals in societies around the world. Their relevance to life-goods is that they illustrate the complexity of human social existence, and how an individual’s well-being is determined by many environmental and social factors. These capabilities provide insight into the specific life-goods of individuals. They provide a framework for what all individuals need, allowing those engaged in determining specific needs insight into not only how to determine life-goods, but also how to make them available. As eirenéism would suggest, it is not enough to say you have a right to life (as some abstract claim to being alive), but to have a right to life is to have specific rights to what it requires for life to go well. As Nussbaum notes, the capabilities approach starts from a “conception of the human being as a social and political being, who finds fulfilment in relations with others” 14 and that “we are needy temporal animal beings” who need care throughout our lives. 15

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Chapter One

We must be careful at this point, since the introduction of rights-talk raises serious conceptual issues regarding the abstract nature of most rights theories, which is only exacerbated by Nussbaum’s promotion of certain capabilities as universal features of human existence meant to be guaranteed by national and international governmental bodies. MacIntyre expresses the concern nicely, suggesting that the tendency to discuss human rights as universal justifications for asserting and enforcing prohibitions on the abstract level of human qua human creates an ethic that fails to adequately engage the particularities of human existence. 16 MacIntyre’s concern is that rights theories create a blanket justification that supposedly justifies a system of morality for all humans, which then exclude from consideration the particular contextual features and needs of individual humans. Though eirenéism is a theory of rights, it is more akin to MacIntyre’s and Nussbaum’s NeoAristotelianism, which is concerned with the individual needs/capabilities of each human. What eirenéism strives to achieve, which I maintain it does successfully, is re-conceptualize the life-goods (i.e., needs) of eudaimonism as rights, which then creates a corollary relationship between all moral agents that obligates them to respect the rights of all parties. If apparent conflicts arise, then each party’s life-goods will need to be examined in order to determine what each party is actually owed. Difficult cases, like forgiveness, will exist, but as will be seen in the following pages and chapters, a careful examination of life-goods should negate any conflicts. Therefore, even though eirenéism posits universal rights, it avoids the shortcomings of typical rights theories by incorporating the particular life-goods of individuals. With the work of Thomson and Nussbaum in mind, it is time to examine Nicholas Wolterstorff’s own discussion of life-goods. So far, the goal was to show that needs, as something conceptually different from desires or wants, exist. The goal now is to show that such needs are the life-goods that ground the moral rights suggested by eirenéism. One difficulty is that Wolterstorff, just like Thomson and Nussbaum, struggles with capturing the concept of need-as-life-good. In Justice in Love, Wolterstorff refers to life-goods as “well-being goods,” but in previous works he refers to them as “natural preferables,” but regardless of the terminological change, they are conceptually the same. In Justice in Love, well-being goods are defined as “The states and events in a person’s life that are good for the person, combined with the actions and activities of that person that are good for him, together make up the whole of what is good for that person.” 17 Well-being goods are intrinsically good for the person, and without them, the person will be unable to flourish. These goods might contribute to one’s preference-satisfaction, but they are tied more fundamentally to the individual’s deeper flourishing. If a well-being good is a lifegood, then we can describe life-goods as states or events in a person’s life that contribute to the good of a person (i.e., their overall well-being).

Life-Goods and the Grounding of Eirenic Rights

13

In Justice: Rights and Wrongs, where Wolterstorff develops eirenéism, life-goods are referred to as conceptually identical to “natural preferables.” Natural preferables are fundamental aspects of a person’s life simply by virtue of being born, or aspects that become part of our lives during the process of living. In one passage he describes them in the following way: Living until full of years, enjoying warm family relationships, friendships, good health, satisfying work, music and books are all indifferents [a term used by Stoics to warn against flourishing-disturbing life-goods]. To judge them as genuine life-goods, thereby to invest oneself in them emotionally, is to run the risk of emotional disturbance: quarrels erupt in families, friends become enemies, health deteriorates, jobs become redundant, eyesight deteriorates—the list goes on and on. 18

The major concern of Stoics and Eudaimonists, according to Wolterstorff, is that flourishing is tied to a certain level of tranquility, whereas eirenéism incorporates and makes a central feature the vulnerability and suffering of life. Natural preferables are an intrinsic part of human existence, and life, health, pleasure, family, love, beauty, strength, good reputation, wealth, and the death, sickness, pain, anger and hatred, weakness, and slanders should be embraced as a part of the life lived well. These preferables are part of what it means to be a social being, and as such, we are vulnerable to having them taken away, or in some cases, simply not having them—either by natural events (e.g., natural death, sickness, etc.) or by others. Stoics worried that since these life-goods are so fundamental to human happiness that their loss would prevent flourishing. Eirenéism, on the other hand, maintains that without these life-goods (and our vulnerability to lose them) we cannot flourish. Life-goods contribute to the overall well-being of a person, and whatever counts as a life-good to an individual are the features of that individual’s life that should be respected as rights. A considerable amount of space has been dedicated to the discussion of needs-as-life-goods, but as the discussion suggests, there is considerable disagreement over how to understand “need.” I am not suggesting that the above is exhaustive, but it is enough to make a sufficient case for grounding the claim that the conception of needs outlined above, whether understood as fundamental/vital needs, capabilities, well-being goods, natural preferables, or something else, serve as the things to which we have a right. To consolidate the terminology, I will talk of such needs as life-goods, and the term “life-goods” will encompass both necessary biological needs and the nonderivative needs associated with the components of individual lives needed for each person (and persons as a group) to peacefully flourish. Of course, on a practical level, we should always be on guard to avoid conflating desires with life-goods, but for my purposes, I will only focus on actions and events that are needs in an individual’s life. We must also avoid the temptation to

14

Chapter One

say that if a person has a right to X, then we must provide X. As will be shown in the following, if a person has a right to X, then at the very least others are required to refrain from inhibiting said person’s attempt to gain X, and in most other cases, required to make X available. The implications of this feature of rights will be illuminated below and in Chapter 2, when forgiveness becomes the main focus. EIRENÉISM IN ACTION As mentioned above, eirenéism shares similarities with other conceptions of the good life, like eudaimonism (i.e., virtue ethics), but even if both eirenists and eudaimonists support many of the same normative claims, there are conceptual differences that separate the two. There continues to be debate over the role of life-goods in eudaimonism, and the truth is, both an eirenist and eudaimonist will often act in the same way, though eirenéism will provide a different justification for why one should act in a certain way. To avoid stoking an argument over the finer points of eudaimonism, I would like to focus on the role of human vulnerability in eirenéism. The role of vulnerability, and how it promotes a specific type of compassionate engagement with other moral agents, is where eirenéism most clearly separates itself from eudaimonism. The difference between both ethical theories is significantly illustrated by the fact Aristotelian virtue ethics does not consider forgiveness a virtue, whereas, forgiveness plays a central role in how eirenéism addresses vulnerability and wrongdoing. Imagine a close friend who becomes ill with a prolonged, terminal illness. As a friend, you wish to visit and care for him, but due to the prolonged nature of the illness, you eventually find your visits and care burdensome; so much so that they are negatively affecting your physical, mental, and emotional health. If your goal is to be happy, then at what point should you cease to visit and care for your friend? Assuming you and your friend share the same moral outlook, at what point should he bar you from visiting and caring for him, in order to promote your health and flourishing? For the eirenist, your friendship is a life-good, and as such you are vulnerable to the suffering that accompanies the illness of a friend. The goal of the eirenist is to be aware of and accept these vulnerabilities as part of being in relation to others. They serve as a call to action, illustrating the unique features of life, and preparing us for what we ought to do in order to ensure our own flourishing and the flourishing of others. The challenge, however, is to embrace our vulnerabilities, instead of creating barriers to protect ourselves from the pains of human existence. Eirenéism’s incorporation of vulnerability serves as the conceptual starting point for the claim that the good life requires that individuals work

Life-Goods and the Grounding of Eirenic Rights

15

toward a state of peace for all moral agents. In order to achieve such a goal, agents must become aware of their own and others’ needs and vulnerabilities, striving to respect the life-goods (i.e., rights) of all, including oneself. Lifegoods demarcate the “normative relationships that incorporate life-goods,” 19 and as individuals in a particular set of normative relationships, each should work toward the goal of peace, where each agent’s needs are met. Eirenéism requires much more from moral agents than traditional conceptions of the good life, and so as to get a clearer understanding of its demands, here are some examples of how it works in action. Rights create a tri-level ethic. The formulation of a claim right is: X has a right against Y to Y’s doing Z (or refraining from doing Z)—“Paul has a right against Peter to Peter’s making food available to him.” 20 When this statement is teased apart, we see there is a tri-level structure to claim rights: 1. X enjoying her right against Y to having Y do A 2. X having A made available to her by Y 3. X having A available to her When all three states are achieved, then one has his or her rights fully respected. Because justice requires having one’s rights respected, whenever a moral agent has a life-good, then justice requires moral agents to either refrain from hindering others from obtaining that life-good, and in some cases (like in the case with Peter and Paul) moral agents must provide for that life-good. To illustrate, both Peter and Paul have a non-consequentialist right to sufficient food, which is determined consequentially by what each one needs in order to survive and flourish; and in cases where Peter does not have enough food to make extra available to Paul, Peter is obligated to work toward providing said life-good, because Paul needs the food to survive and to flourish. Having food is necessary for everyone’s peaceful flourishing. Peter is justified in withholding food from Paul (diminishing his flourishing), only when Peter lacks the ability to provide food. If Peter has extra food and withholds it, he wrongs Paul. Because Peter is ethically required to seek Paul’s flourishing, he is obligated to work toward providing it. If he chooses not to seek providing for Paul, or obtains food and does not provide it, Peter moves from temporarily diminishing Paul’s flourishing to actually wronging Paul. In other words, Peter not providing food when he has no food to provide does not wrong Paul, even though Paul’s flourishing is diminished from not having food. On the other hand, Peter not providing food when he is capable of providing food, wrongs Paul. To see exactly how this works, let us reexamine eirenéism’s three rules of application:

16

Chapter One Rule 1: Seeking to promote someone’s good or secure someone’s rights as ends in themselves should never be done at the cost of wronging someone. Rule 2: One should seek to promote one’s own good and secure justice for oneself as ends in themselves, though never at the cost of wronging someone. Rule 3: One should never seek to . . . diminish the person’s flourishing [ 21 ] as an end in itself; one should seek to . . . [diminish the persons flourishing] only if doing so is an indispensable means to promoting greater goods in the life of that person and/or others, only if one should be promoting those greater lifegoods, and never at the cost of wronging someone. 22

Rule 1 requires one to seek the good of others (to make sure they have the goods to which they have a right), and Rule 2 requires one to seek one’s own life-goods to which one has a right; but both of these require that the seeking of good never comes at the cost of wronging someone. The combination of these Rules, along with Rule 3, implies that moral agents should be continually seeking (i.e., working toward) ensuring all moral agents have available the life-goods to which they have a right, on a personal level, an interpersonal level, and on a broader social level. In instances when one cannot perform 1 and/or 2, Rule 3 allows one to diminish the flourishing of another, if one is incapable of allowing for the other’s flourishing, so long as no one is wronged. As a result, in instances when moral agents cannot provide for the life-goods for oneself or others, moral agents are required to work toward providing said life-goods. When an agent’s rights are “blocked” 23 by other events or considerations, it would be wrong to say that the obligation fails to exist. For eirenéism, the obligation simply manifests differently, as a call to work toward (if possible) unblocking the right. Purposely limiting flourishing, when one is capable of providing for another’s flourishing, wrongs the other individual. IMPLICATIONS FOR FORGIVENESS Assuming, for now, that forgiveness is like other life-goods, we should apply the same rules of application to cases when a wrongdoer needs forgiveness. For an eirenist, if forgiveness is (or becomes) a life-good, then there exists an obligation to forgive. The obligation to provide forgiveness, based on the inherent worth of the other, exists whether or not the victim is capable of forgiving. In cases when one is incapable of forgiving, the obligation merely manifests itself differently, as an obligation to work toward forgiving. To use a quote from Wolterstorff, “What each of us should do, and more narrowly, what each of us ought to do, depends crucially on our abilities, our resources, our circumstances, our opportunities, even our convictions.” 24 For eirenéism,

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17

after cases of wrongdoing, the set of moral social connections that ground eirenic rights and produce obligations continue to exist for victims and wrongdoers. Wrongdoing does not destroy morality. So, the obligations of victims will undoubtedly be limited as a result of any wrongdoing, but they will continue to exist nonetheless. There will be times when victims are incapable of forgiving, especially after instances of heinous wrongdoing, and not forgiving is morally acceptable. As Rule 3 shows, one can diminish a person’s flourishing, if doing so is an indispensable means to promoting greater goods in the life of that person, assuming it is good to promote those goods, and their promotion is not at the cost of wronging that person. What I take this normative rule to imply is that when forgiveness is a life-good, one can diminish a wrongdoer’s flourishing by withholding forgiveness for a limited time, only when one is (physically, mentally, emotionally, etc.) incapable of forgiving. However, if one is capable of forgiving, and chooses to not forgive, then he wrongs the wrongdoer who has made forgiveness a need. The difference between harming and wronging the repentant wrongdoer depends on the capacity of the victim to forgive. However, because of the tri-level structure of rights, this interpretation only makes sense if withholding forgiveness on grounds that one is incapable of forgiving is coupled with the obligation to work toward being able to forgive. If forgiveness is a life-good in the life of the wrongdoer, then to purposely withhold it, when one is capable of forgiving, is for one to purposely wrong the other. This would be no different than Peter purposely withholding extra food from Paul. Based on the principle of correlatives, here is an example of the moral relationship between a victim and a wrongdoer, one which will be examined in detail in the next chapter: If Beti is morally wronged by Amy, then Amy has wronged Beti by not carrying out her obligation to respect Beti’s right to some life- or history-good—an injustice has occurred. Assuming Beti is aware of this wrongdoing, Beti is in a position to claim her permission-right of retribution, forgiveness, or some intermediary. We must be careful here, for what Beti has a right to is her life- and historygoods being made available to her. These life- and history-goods can be any number of things: food, clothing, and shelter; or non-material goods like privacy, respect, well-being, one’s namesake, and I maintain, even forgiveness. Both Beti and Amy have a set of life- and history-goods, and in the case under consideration, Amy has violated one of Beti’s rights; but Amy’s violation does not change the fact that Amy retains certain rights to life-goods that Beti is still obligated to respect. Amy retains the rights that are based on her inherent moral worth. Amy’s life-goods change, only in regard to the wrong committed—Beti now has a right against Amy to see that Amy is punished for her transgression. But just because Amy wrongs Beti, Amy does not forfeit her rights to other life-goods that are unrelated to the wrongdoing.

18

Chapter One

Based solely on this and the principle of correlatives, a wrongdoer’s repentance should result in the following moral state of affairs: if Amy repents, Amy has made forgiveness a life-good, and as a result, Amy has a right to be forgiven. Regardless of the wrong Amy committed against Beti, if Amy has the life-good of forgiveness, then Amy has a right to be forgiven. What is more, according to eirenéism, if one is capable of making a life-good available, thereby not having any competing rights and obligations or other morally considerable features that would prevent one from being able to make a life-good available, then she or he is obligated to make said life-good available. In the case of forgiveness, Beti is the only person who can make forgiveness available to Amy, because only the victim (and sometimes, victims) of Amy’s wrongdoing can actually forgive Amy for her transgression. 25 If Amy’s repentance results in her making forgiveness a life-good, then she gains the right to be forgiven. No matter the type of wrong, due to Amy’s inherent worth, she does not forfeit her right to her basic life-goods, whether forgiveness or something else entirely. If we illustrate the main philosophical ideas presented in the previous several paragraphs, we get the following four premises: 1. All people have rights to all basic life- and history-goods.

2. Y’s right to Z obligates all those who can provide Z to Y, especially those who stand in a certain relationship to Y, to do so. 26

3. Victims, and only victims, can forgive their wrongdoers.

4. Forgiveness is a basic life- and history-good for wrongdoers who repent. Number 1 is the result of individuals having inherent moral worth, which the fundamental principle of eirenéism; number 2 is the result of the principle of correlatives; number 3 is a basic feature or the nature of forgiveness and causal relationships; and number 4 is the result of repentance making forgiveness a life-good. This argument has several implications, including what I will call the repugnant implication, which suggests victims can wrong their wrongdoers by not granting forgiveness. Contractarian rights theories fall prey to the repugnant implication, but due to eirenéism’s incorporation of the particular needs of individuals, eirenéism can use its three rules of application to negate the repugnancy of the repugnant implication. If eirenéism implied that victim X is morally obligated to forgive wrongdoer Y at the moment Y repents, I

Life-Goods and the Grounding of Eirenic Rights

19

would agree that such a conclusion is repugnant. Eirenéism, however, takes into account the fact that there are times when one is incapable of performing certain actions (i.e., providing others with life-goods), and that in such cases, one is required to work toward being able to provide for the other. The repugnancy of the repugnant implication is ameliorated because eirenéism takes into account X’s ability (or lack of ability) to forgive, and allows X to diminish the life-good of Y by not forgiving, as long as X in some way seeks to eventually provide Y with forgiveness—the most common way being to seek avenues that promote one’s own mental and physical health via counseling and/or social support. The above explanation does not mean to suggest that forgiveness, or working toward forgiveness, is ever easy, but it does suggest that forgiving, and in some cases working toward being able to forgive, is a necessary component of eirenéism-as-the-good-life. With the above explanation in mind, let us move to an examination of wrongdoer and victim rights and obligations. NOTES 1. My use of “human” is intentional, since eirenéism applies to the species, not merely a subcategory of the species, such as persons (humans with certain rational capacities). Focusing on a species invites the criticism that eirenéism is a speciesist moral theory. I admit that such a criticism is a concern, but only if the rights of humans are grounded in such a way that unjustifiably excludes other species. As I argue in “Understanding Peace Within Contemporary Moral Theory,” eirenéism is a relational theory of ethics based on the recognition of other members of the moral community. Since we are humans, we naturally recognize (most) other humans as part of the moral community, even though we do not always recognize their status of bearing rights (e.g., gestating entities, humans with alternative lifestyles, different religious beliefs, and a whole host of humans that fit the category of “Other”). Nevertheless, humans also recognize non-human entities as being morally valuable too. So, the conceptual framework of eirenéism allows both humans and non-humans (animals, ecosystems, etc.) to be considered part of the moral community, but the extent to which such groups are part of the moral community is a discussion for a different project. 2. Some of the following section might resemble material featured in the article: Court Lewis, “Understanding Peace Within Contemporary Moral Theory,” Philosophia: Philosophical Quarterly of Israel 41, no. 4 (2013): 1049–1068. I compare and contrast eirenéism with several contemporary moral theories. Any similarities are coincidental, unless otherwise noted. 3. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice: Rights and Wrongs (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008), 34. 4. Miroslav Volf, “God, Justice, and Love: The Grounds for Human Flourishing,” Review of Justice: Rights and Wrongs, by Nicholas Wolterstorff. www.christianitytoday.com/bc/2009/ janfeb/16.26. html (Accessed February 6, 2010). 5. Ibid. 6. David Wiggins, “An Idea we Cannot do Without,” in The Philosophy of Need, ed. Soran Reader (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 5. 7. Alasdair MacIntyre, Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity: An Essay on Desire, Practical Reasoning, and Narrative (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016). 8. Ibid., 129. 9. Garrett Thomson, “Fundamental Needs,” in The Philosophy of Need, ed. Soran Reader (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 175.

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Chapter One

10. Ibid., 179. 11. Ibid., 178 12. Martha Nussbaum, Frontiers of Justice: Disability, Nationality, Species Membership (Cambridge and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2006), 70. 13. Ibid., 76–78. 14. Ibid., 85. 15. Ibid., 160. 16. MacIntyre, 78. 17. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice in Love (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2011), 2. 18. Wolterstorff, Rights and Wrongs, 161. 19. Ibid., 222. 20. Ibid. 21. I replaced Wolterstorff’s use of “evil” with “diminish the person’s flourishing” in this rule to avoid a lengthy explanation within the text of why he uses “evil.” Wolterstorff uses “evil” to represent “life-evils,” as opposed to life-goods. In the text, he defines “evil” as that which diminishes a person’s flourishing, which is why I replaced the term. To be clear, he does not use “evil” in the stronger sense of willfully causing great harm to others. 22. Wolterstorff, Justice in Love, 119 and 130. 23. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Understanding Liberal Democracy: Essays in Political Philosophy, ed. Terence Cuneo (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). 24. Ibid., 131. 25. For now, I am leaving out instances of family members and other loved ones being able to take the place of deceased or otherwise incapacitated victims. I think the same principle will hold for both, since I would say the victim’s family, who have suffered as a result of a transgression, are victims too; and only they can forgive for the suffering they have endured. I simply wish to capture the idea that the victim (as the one wronged) has a special status in relation to the wrongdoer, and to avoid the notion that a stranger, group, or political party can offer forgiveness. 26. I include the clause “especially those who stand in a certain relationship to Y” in order to capture the notion that certain relationships create a hierarchy of who is obligated to provide Z for Y. For example, children have a right to food, and their guardians have the primary obligation to provide food. All other moral agents have an obligation to provide the children with food, but they are only required to discharge this obligation, if the guardians are for some reason unable to provide.

Chapter Two

Repentance and the Right to Be Forgiven

The previous chapter examined the nature of eirenéism, with the purpose of providing a firm foundation on which to discuss the moral framework of forgiveness that exists within such a theory of rights. Unlike Contractarian theories, eirenéism grounds rights in the particular needs of individuals, which provides a framework in which to ground an ethic of forgiveness that avoids certain shortcomings of making forgiveness a right (i.e., the repugnant implication). In the last few paragraphs of Chapter 1 I offered a rights-based argument to illustrate how the rights and obligations of forgiveness work within eirenéism: 1. All people have rights to all basic life- and history-goods.

2. Y’s right to Z obligates all those who can provide Z to Y, especially those who stand in a certain relationship to Y, to do so.

3. Victims, and only victims, can forgive their wrongdoers.

4. Forgiveness is a basic life- and history-good for wrongdoers who repent. When combined, these four propositions make forgiveness a right for repentant wrongdoers, one which victims are obligated to discharge. Chapter 1 examined and justified propositions 1, 2, and 3, and this chapter will do the same for 4. 21

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If proposition four fails, the argument is invalid, showing that there is no eirenic obligation to forgive. For the argument to be valid, then, I must show that forgiveness is capable of being a life-good. Repentance, however, introduces its own set of conceptual difficulties that must be examined and made consistent, both internally as a concept and as an individual component of eirenéism. To illustrate, repentance can be thought of as a psychological state where an individual makes a commitment to oneself to never perform a certain wrongful action again, a set of actions demonstrating a change of heart in regard to the wrongful act, or a mixture of both. If repentance is merely a psychological state, then certain practical problems immediately arise. First, if a wrongdoer psychologically repents and thereby makes forgiveness a life-good, but never tells the victim, then the victim appears to be required to forgive, even though she or he is unaware of such an obligation. Second, a manipulative wrongdoer might lie about his psychological state of repentance, and because we lack the ability to determine whether the wrongdoer’s repentance is genuine, the victim appears obligated to forgive, even though in reality there is no obligation, since there is no repentance. The same criticism can be waged against the conception of repentance as a set of actions designed to “make up” for wrongdoing. A wrongdoer might act in a repentant manner so as to gain forgiveness, and be readmitted to the moral community, yet perpetrate the same wrong again and again. Granted, the wrongdoer’s repentance will not be accepted as genuine if he demonstrates his untrustworthiness by continuing to perform the same wrong. Yet, a victim who is unaware of the wrongdoer’s duplicity will feel obligated by the wrongdoer’s false repentance. These practical issues result from the epistemic problem that it is impossible to know with certainty whether a person is truly/genuinely repentant. Some readers might find this epistemic problem insurmountable, that if we cannot know with certainty that a wrongdoer is repentant, and therefore deserving of forgiveness, then we cannot say there is an obligation to forgive. Such a conclusion, however, is too hasty. To require certainty in moral life would be to undercut morality itself, since there are no moral theories that are capable of providing entirely consistent normative guidance that is certain in every case. In fact, due to the nature of human existence and knowledge, besides the deductive truths of logic and mathematics, there is no certainty, moral or otherwise. So, repentance and its role in eirenic forgiveness should not be rejected simply because we cannot know if a wrongdoer is ever genuinely repentant. Nevertheless, we should take seriously the fact that repentance can be misused to manipulate and further harm both victims and the moral community. Since repentance has been employed by numerous cultures, societies, and religious groups throughout human history, it should be possible to develop a set of consistent standards of repentance that allow victims and third-

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party observers to evaluate and determine whether a wrongdoer has demonstrated what should count as genuine repentance. To this end, I will examine several repentance-accounts from a set of diverse readings and groups, in order to develop a clearer understanding of when we should consider a wrongdoer repentant, and therefore deserving of forgiveness. To be clear, my goal is not to develop an essential definition of “repentance” that clearly excludes certain actions that count as repentance from those that fail. Such analytical approaches are helpful in some circumstances, but as Kathryn Norlock aptly notes, when such techniques are employed with complex moral events such as forgiveness and repentance, they typically exclude the voices of the most vulnerable and likely to be wronged. 1 To avoid this morally unacceptable state of affairs, I will err on the side of caution and provide an account of repentance that includes a wide-range of moral beliefs and actions. More specifically, I will develop an ideal, character-based account of genuine repentance, which will serve as an interpretive framework for evaluating how wrongdoers respond to the wrongs they commit. So, instead of focusing on features that should be excluded from repentance, I will develop an inclusionary set of behaviors and attitudes associated with repentant behavior, keeping in mind that wrongdoers (and victims) can respond to wrongdoing in a variety of diverse and surprising ways. Even with such a framework, gauging “genuine” repentance will remain difficult, because any sort of evaluation will be based on trusting the stated beliefs, attitudes, and deeds of admitted wrongdoers. I expect that some readers will not be able to overcome the need for trust, feeling like there must be some sort of proof to ground repentance, but it is my hope that as I discuss the rights of victims later in the chapter, such readers will find themselves amenable to the role trust plays in repentance, forgiveness, and the good life. Assuming I am successful in developing an account of repentance-as-alife-good-generating event that grounds a right to be forgiven, another seemingly intractable problem occurs, what I call the “repugnant implication.” Inspired by Derek Parfitt’s terminology of the “repugnant conclusion,” 2 which shows how a sound conclusion might be rejected due to its practical repugnancy, the repugnant implication of eirenic forgiveness is that if a wrongdoer has a right to be forgiven, then victims are obligated to forgive (proposition 3); and if victims do not forgive, they themselves become wrongdoers. Even after instances of heinous wrongdoing, if the perpetrator is genuinely repentant, it appears that victims are obligated to forgive, no matter the physical, emotional, and/or spiritual harm that might result. There are many ways to respond to the repugnant implication. Nicholas Wolterstorff recognizes the repugnant implication and rejects proposition 4. He argues that forgiveness is a different sort of obligation, a third-party obligation, which he maintains prevents forgiveness from becoming a lifegood in the life of wrongdoers. As I will show in Chapter 4, such an argu-

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ment undermines the account of life-goods supported by eirenéism, by creating what appears to be arbitrary lines that demarcate some life-goods from other life-goods. Another response is to develop a two-party account of eirenic forgiveness that focuses on the rights and abilities of victims, showing how a careful analysis of rights and obligations can avoid the repugnant implication. I will spend the second half of the chapter developing this response, illustrating how eirenéism can support an obligation to forgive that takes into account both the needs of wrongdoers and victims and avoids the repugnant implication. To accomplish this task, I will examine the role of self-respect in victims, especially how it serves to protect victims’ moral worth, then show how eirenéism respects the rights of all individuals in such a way to allow for certain obligations to manifest differently in complex situations. More specifically, the obligation to forgive can manifest in ways that prevent it from being repugnant. REPENTANCE Before discussing repentance as a life-good, four conceptual points must be discussed. First, repentance is commonly associated with religious language, frameworks, and doctrines, to express humanity’s “broken” nature and their relationship to the Divine. In fact, some readers might think of repentance as being solely a religious concept, but it is in no way exclusive to religion and religious language. “Repentance” has a rich heritage in both secular and religious lexicons, and though some non-theists prefer terms like “remorse,” “contrition,” and “regret,” “repentance” should not be abandoned simply because of its associated religious usages. For one, it is a concept utilized, accessible, and understandable by all rational persons, regardless of their feelings about or associations with religion. Second, even if “repentance” were originally developed to express a religious concept, it provides valuable insights into everyday human life. As a result, “repentance” can be divorced from its religious connotations without undercutting the meaning or force of the term. As I will illustrate below, a term can be discussed as a theological concept and still provide insights into how to properly understand the term in non-theological ways, as long as the necessary features of the term continue to be true apart from metaphysical claims associated with God or the Divine. Take for instance, agape love, which was first developed in a non-Christian, Greek society, but over the years has become deeply associated with Christianity’s understanding of God’s love for humans. This adoption has been so inclusive, that some understand “agape love” solely in terms of its Christian use. Instead of somehow weakening the term, Christian writings on agape have bolstered its richness, so much so, that non-theists can embrace much of the language of Christian agape love, as an ideal for love, without ever

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accepting any of the Christian justifications for agape love. The truth is, agape love is expressed in human interactions regardless of its association with any particular religious concept, which means it can be understood and applied without assenting to any further metaphysical religious claims. The same is true for “repentance.” So, for non-theists, even though I will borrow from several religious sources, no deep metaphysical, religious assumptions are necessary for repentance to be accepted as the feature of human life that grounds a right to forgiveness. Of course, there is nothing preventing religious readers from simply accepting “repentance” as it fits within her or his particular religious framework either. Second, I will not try to provide an essential definition of “repentance.” Like “forgiveness,” I am more interested in the phenomenon of the moral event, than the analytical definition. I will, instead, examine the attitudes and actions associated with repentance, with the goal of clearly describing the transformative nature of genuine repentance and its rights-generating nature. To this end, I first examine what repentance is not. Second, I discuss how repentance appears in the three major Abrahamic traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Third, and finally, repentance will be examined from non-theistic, philosophical, and psychological perspectives. All three examinations will show that genuine repentance is a life-changing, transformative event in the life of the wrongdoer. The transformative nature of repentance is right-generating, meaning that it creates life-goods for the wrongdoer that should be respected by all capable moral agents. Even though I am not interested in an essential definition of “repentance,” certain characteristics will be developed that will allow us to say some actions and thoughts fail to count as repentance. In other words, “repentance” will not become a relativistic term defined solely by each individual (or culture). A wrongdoer cannot simply say, “I said I was sorry,” and it be counted as repentance. To count as genuine repentance, the beliefs and actions of wrongdoers must be similar enough to the phenomena discussed in the following to be considered repentance. Third, because eirenéism focuses on rights and obligations, repentance plays a major role in what wrongdoers are owed. There will be times, however, when repentance plays no role at all in the moral attitudes and actions of individuals. Due to the complex nature of interpersonal relationships and wrongdoing, there will be times when individual victims choose to act in ways that go beyond what is morally required—e.g., a man ignores the fact that a friend lied about where he was the night before, forgives, and never thinks of it again. Repentance might be employed by the wrongdoer and never expressed to the victim, who is ignorant of both wrongdoing and repentance—e.g., after plagiarizing a paper that the teacher never discovers, the student “repents” to himself and dedicates to never plagiarize again. 3 As we will see below, the student’s attitudes and actions will fail to count as

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genuine repentance, since he fails to make amends to the teacher for his wrongdoing; but whatever we call his change in attitude and actions, he has demonstrated how repentance-like activities might play no role in certain wrongdoings. Finally, a wrongdoer can repent without making forgiveness a life-good. Repentance and the life-good of forgiveness are two separate things, though intimately connected. Forgiveness might motivate repentance, just as guilt, shame, regret, and remorse might be motives. However, one can repent and not want forgiveness. Whether they feel forgiveness is unnecessary, or that they are undeserving, it is possible for a person to refuse to make forgiveness a life-good. Eirenéism will have little to say about such cases, except that such wrongdoers will have a right to be forgiven available to them, if they later decide they need forgiveness. Until such an event, eirenéism will say that such agents simply refuse to make the claim-right to be forgiven. Genuinely repentant wrongdoers will be concerned with the needs of their victims, and when they recognize that the forgiveness process might further harm or wrong victims, wrongdoers can foreswear forgiveness. Forgiveness might still be a life-good, but due to the recognition of the victim’s life-goods, wrongdoers can decide to make forgiveness secondary to the needs of their victims. In a way, such a moral recognition will be seen to be exactly what repentance and eirenéism requires, though not every wrongdoer will be capable of foreswearing forgiveness, due to their own weaknesses and vulnerabilities. A fourth and final point involves whether or not there are wrongs in which repentance is impossible. In “Forgiveness and the Holocaust,” Eve Garrard argues that individuals cannot repent for events like the Holocaust, because the scope and quantity of evil are of such a magnitude to be beyond individual culpability. 4 Individuals can repent for particular actions, but not for the Holocaust itself. On one level, I agree with Garrard. Individuals cannot repent for actions and events for which they are not morally responsible. Massive wrongs such as the Holocaust, slavery, genocide, and other atrocities are beyond the moral responsibility of individual agents, so they cannot repent for those events. Nevertheless, each moral agent is responsible for what she or he willingly did (or did not do), including how such actions/ inactions contributed to broader social wrongs. An individual cannot repent for the wrongful actions of the entire Ku Klux Klan, but can repent for his decision to join, his role in perpetuating such attitudes and beliefs, and for his failure to protect innocent people from their terrorist activities. When individual wrongdoing has broader social implications, the scope of repentance will be broadened to take into account the effects of the wrong. The individual-group dynamic of wrongdoing presents several intriguing problems, which will be examined in the next chapter, when discussing the unforgivable. For now, I will proceed with the assumption that no individual deeds are beyond

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the conceptual possibility of repentance, though there may be individuals who are psychologically incapable of repenting. The point of each of these conceptual discussions is that human interpersonal relationships are difficult and complex, and no matter how precise a moral framework, no theory can capture every possible “what-if.” At least one advantage of eirenéism, as seen in the previous chapter, is that it asks moral agents to examine the particular needs and features of each case, so as to determine what should actually happen in regard to that particular case. It does not attempt a one-size-fits-all approach to moral reason and action. REPENTANCE AS A LIFE-GOOD Repentance will be right-generating when it makes some good in an individual’s life necessary for the flourishing of said individual. The following will develop an account of what is meant by “repentance” and will illustrate how repentance transforms the lives of wrongdoers in such a way that certain events, such as forgiveness, become necessary to their flourishing. As a result, when forgiveness becomes a life-good of repentant individuals, all those who are capable of granting forgiveness, are so obligated to forgive. To avoid confusion, we must understand what fails to count as repentance. Repentance may be related to, but is not shame, guilt, regret, or remorse. To see why, we must recognize that shame, guilt, regret, and remorse are primarily emotional states that arise after some harm or wrong. This does not mean such concepts completely lack a rational component, but they are fundamentally feelings an agent experiences in response to some harm or wrong, whether actual or merely perceived. Iham Dilman suggests that the emotional states related to shame, guilt, and remorse—and I am including regret—are often the result of individuals feeling like the object of disapproval, one that results in a loss of esteem and honor. 5 To feel shame, guilt, regret, and remorse as an emotional state, then, is a recognition that one has failed to live according to one’s own standards or the standards of one’s community or social group. The commission of a wrong creates a desire to have one’s honor restored and to avoid future embarrassment as a result of the wrongdoing. Individuals are, then, emotionally motivated to act consistently with the good of their community to avoid these uncomfortable feelings. For example, an individual might respond to an instance of laughing at an inappropriate joke by being embarrassed or of having others think less of him. He might respond by begging the forgiveness of those around him, or by reprimanding the joke-teller for saying something inappropriate. Of course, there is a rational component of shame, guilt, regret, and remorse too. After laughing at an inappropriate joke, the individual might recall his deep moral conviction to not laugh at such jokes or his motive to impress his peers

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with certain behaviors, and based on his desire to act in accordance to his concept of the good, reprimand the joke-teller and commit to not violating his standards again. The more individuals consider and work toward making amends for their wrongdoing, however, the less we should consider such responses merely shame, guilt, regret, and remorse, and the more we should consider it repentance. For as we will see, shame, guilt, regret, and remorse often motivate responses, but repentance is the act of thoughtfully recognizing and taking purposeful steps to rectify the wrong and ensure it never happens again. Repentance requires a consideration of the wrong committed and what steps must be taken to change one’s behavior and to make amends for the wrong. In themselves, shame, guilt, regret, and remorse can be experienced without any commitment to avoid the action (or inaction) that brought about such feelings. They are fundamentally tied to the recognition of a wrong, and though they motivate action, crafting strategies of how to act in the face of past wrongdoings requires a richer and more complex moral concept. What is more, there is nothing necessitating that shame, guilt, regret, and remorse are associated with wrongdoing. I might feel shame, guilt, regret, and remorse for watching one of the information-entertainment television channels that passes for “news,” but I have not wronged anyone. No one is harmed by my watching, nor have I agreed to anyone else or myself to not watch. I simply have a set of negative emotions regarding my viewing decision. I might even continue watching on a regular basis, and simply consider my shame, guilt, regret, and remorse part of what it means to have a “guilty pleasure.” Repentance, however, requires wrongdoing of some sort. To say, “I repent for watching Info-tainment ‘news’ shows,” when it is not wrong for me to do so, fails to gain any conceptual traction in itself. However, if I make a promise to myself to not watch such shows, then it would make sense to say, “I’ve wronged myself by watching, I repent, and will work on respecting the agreements I make with myself in the future.” Without some sort of wrongdoing, the notion of repentance does not apply; whereas, shame, guilt, regret, and remorse can apply when no wrongdoing occurs. To reiterate, this does not imply that shame, guilt, regret, and remorse are not motivational factors in repentance, nor that the language of repentance will not borrow heavily from the language associated with these four concepts; but repentance is a broader, deeper, and more complex concept than shame, guilt, regret, and remorse, either separately or combined. 6 To see why, let us turn our attention to examining repentance. As noted previously, repentance is often associated with religion, specifically the three Abrahamic faiths of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Each faith-tradition offers insights into the life-changing nature of repentance, and to ignore their accounts would be a disservice to readers and the concept of repentance. The

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following paragraphs will briefly describe some of the major features of how each religion understands repentance. The Jewish term for “repentance” is the Hebrew teshuvah, which as Estelle Frankel notes, represents a set of ethical and spiritual ideals that promote the turning away from a self-centered existence toward one that is Godcentered. 7 In Wounds Not Healed by Time: The Power of Repentance and Forgiveness, Solomon Schimmel describes repentance as the thing that gives victims and wrongdoers the opportunity to change and turn to the good, something that allows for the repair of the physical, emotional, and/or material harm caused by the wrongdoing. 8 More specifically, Schimmel maintains that there are four elements to (ideal) Jewish repentance: 1) recognize and acknowledge your sin, feeling guilt and remorse for its commission; 2) repair the caused injury; 3) apologize to the victim; and 4) face the circumstances in which you committed your wrong and not perform the same action. 9 According to both Judaism’s concern with justice and Rabbinic Judaism’s optimistic outlook on human self-improvement, Judaism focuses on repentance as a means to bettering oneself by learning from one’s mistakes, which then facilitates and bolsters communal justice. 10 In some ways, a repentant wrongdoer is in a better moral position than someone who has never experienced wrongdoing and repentance, because she or he has a greater understanding of oneself, morality, and Yahweh’s justice. In relation to Yahweh, repentance is a precondition for divine forgiveness, 11 and for humans, it is a cry for and lays the groundwork for reconciliation, healing, and forgiveness. 12 Through repentance, individuals attempt to rectify the harms committed against their victims, even if the victims are deceased. As the great Jewish theologian Moses Maimonides explains: when the victim is dead, the wrongdoer ought to bring ten people to the grave, declare one’s wrongdoing, and apologize. 13 Finally, each year Jews are expected to participate in Halakhah—the “ten days of teshuvah” that bridge Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. 14 From these few passages, it becomes clear that repentance is a transformative event in the lives of religiously minded Jewish individuals. Justice calls on individuals to repent and turn away from wrongdoing, denouncing their former actions and selves, and completing certain mental and restorative acts that illustrate their changed lives, making amends to their victims, and in the process, healing their communities. Jewish repentance, therefore, creates a complete change in an individual’s mental and physical life, one that reframes what such individuals need in order to flourish. Like that of Judaism, Christian repentance is a means in which to rectify the damage caused by sin and is often described as a turning away from sin, disobedience, and/or rebellion, and a turning back to God (Mathew 9:13; Luke 5:32). This “turning away” requires a fundamental change of mind that leads to a change in the person’s relationship to God. By turning away from

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wrongdoing, toward living a life dedicated to creating God’s justice, individuals live in right relationship with God. Stated differently, when one repents and promotes God’s justice, one is “righteous/justified” in relation to God. Repentance is the transformative event that allows for wrongdoers to live a new life of righteousness, reconciled to both God and others. As George Gus Christo notes in the introduction to The Fathers of the Church: St. John Chrysostom on Repentance and Almsgiving, repentance has a depth and richness that cannot be summed up in a few words or phrases—it includes: 1) metamelomai: a deep remorse, as when Judas displayed remorse for betraying Jesus; 2) metastrophe: “a drastic and dynamic about-face from a previous despised way of life to a conscious decision to change”; 3) metathesis: “a change of living place for the purpose of becoming familial residents of God’s household (Eph 2.19)”; and 4) metamorphosis: “a complete spiritual and physical transformation or change of life and being that is entirely and concretely revealed in and communicated from the repentant individual to the totality of creation.” 15 Christian repentance, according to Christo’s understanding of St. John Chrysostom, results in the “complete change and renewal of heart and mind; from the heart and mind of sin to the ‘mind of Christ and God.’” 16 Stated differently, repentance shows that we are all part of the same body, that to be righteous we must be humble and alter our way of life so that we may take “the road toward improvement,” and this improvement is a movement away from our past selves toward a likeness of God. 17 Other Christian accounts of repentance echo these images of individuals being transformed through the process. Thomas Cranmer, the first Protestant archbishop of Canterbury, describes repentance (poenitentia) as the “voluntary self-punishment by God’s justice for sin,” and requires: 1) contrition (true sorrow), confession, and satisfaction (penance is complete). 18 As Ashley Null describes Cranmer’s thoughts on repentance, repentance not only represents a turning to God, but repentance both humbles and glorifies God as humanity’s only hope. 19 Like Judaism, Christianity conceptualizes genuine repentance as creating life anew for individuals. An individual’s past life and wrongdoings do not cease to exist, but when repentance occurs, individuals separate themselves so completely from their past selves that God no longer sees them as the same person. Granted, it is more difficult for humans to separate repentant wrongdoers from their past selves, but according to Christian doctrine, that is exactly how repentance changes the lives of wrongdoers. They are no longer the same, and as a result, they have new lifegoods required for flourishing. The third conception of religious repentance comes from Islam. Like Judaism, Islam is focused on justice. 20 Since Islam is conceived of as both a political and religious community, Islam makes repentance a moral/theological requirement for wrongdoers, especially for any act of forgiveness to be appropriate and

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acceptable. 21 According to Chawkat Moucarry, genuine repentance occurs as a result of a Muslim’s “spiritual warfare” (mujahada) with oneself, which for the prophet Muhammad is the “greater jihad.” 22 Through the struggle of repentance, which requires actions and prayers, wrongdoers can repair damaged relationships and be reconciled to their victims. Moucarry notes that the repentant undergoes such a transformation that “[the repentant] is God’s beloved” (al-ta’ib habibu llah), living a life that matches God’s character. 23 Similar to Judaism, Islam also provides guidance for when wrongdoers are unable to make repentance known to their victims, either as a result of death or some other factor. When wrongdoers are unable to make restitution for their deed(s), they are required to pay restitution to charity, trusting that God will compensate victims accordingly for their suffering. 24 Islam, like the other Abrahamic traditions, conceptualizes repentance as a transformative event that creates a new individual. In reality, of course, the individual who commits a wrong is the same as the individual who repents, but the process of repenting transforms the identity and needs of individuals in such a way that justice requires we treat them differently. Repentant individuals are still guilty and culpable for their past actions, but justice requires we take into account the transformed nature of their lives and what this “new” person deserves. With such a rich conceptualization of repentance, one could easily think that repentance is fundamentally a religious concept, but as David Lambert argues, to do so would be a mistake. In How Repentance Became Biblical, Lambert suggests that repentance’s association with religious doctrine is the result of scholars translating repentance into the nascent Hebrew and Christian scriptures, through what he calls “the penitential lens.” Translating repentance into these developing scriptures created a “performative space” for communities and individuals to participate in a transformative event that brought about personal and interpersonal healing. 25 Without this space, repentance and forgiveness seemed to be the sole purview of God, but with the Hellenistic examination of moral philosophy and emerging forms of Judaism and Christianity, scriptures were translated in a way to make both repentance and forgiveness accessible to humans. 26 Regardless of whether or not one agrees with Lambert’s conclusions, for my purposes, I wish only to stress that there are good reasons to accept a non-religious-based conception of repentance that centers on actions such as apologizing, regret, narrative transformations, responsibility-taking, and contrition. 27 Religious accounts of repentance enrich our understanding of repentance, but the same individual transformations are seen as part of repentance, whether one includes or excludes religious accounts. As Schimmel notes, non-religious individuals feel the same sort of existential angst of loneliness and vulnerability caused by wrongdoing that religious individuals experience. 28 So, for the non-theist, repentance remains a transformative

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event that creates new life-goods for individuals. To see how non-theistic repentance remains transformative, consider the following accounts. First, David Hume argues that repentance completely transforms the character of wrongdoers. In “Hume on Forgiveness and the Unforgivable,” Glen Pettigrove shows how, according to Hume, repentance undermines the “durable object of our hatred,” saying: Repentance undermines hatred’s foundation. If the wrongdoing is followed by “repentance and a change of life” then the harmful act and the character traits it exhibited are no longer constantly conjoined in our mind with the other person. The mind no longer passes immediately and automatically from the impression or idea of the person to the idea of the harm and the uneasiness that harm produces. 29

In other words, repentance prevents us from associating the wrongdoing with the new character of the repentant wrongdoer, and it reframes our understanding of the wrongdoer, such that we no longer see her or him as a threat, retaining only the memory of the past wrong. 30 Based on Pettigrove’s analysis of Hume, there is no room for denying that Hume saw repentance as a transformative event in the life of the wrongdoer. For Hume, repentance means that we can no longer justify any hatred (“a desire of the misery and an aversion to the happiness of the person hated” 31 ) toward the wrongdoer, because the part of the wrongdoer’s character that was hated no longer exists. The transformation of the wrongdoer’s character, therefore, brings about a new object with new qualities, which means she or he has new life-goods that other moral beings are ethically required to respect. Margaret Holmgren offers a set of conditions for wrongdoers to meet, both in terms of the wrong committed and their victims. Meeting these conditions resemble the phenomenon of repentance previously discussed. In terms of addressing the wrong, wrongdoers should: 1. Recognize, acknowledge, and take full responsibility for the wrong. 2. Recognize the victim as a person with moral worth. 3. Acknowledge the feelings that arise in the victim in relation to the offense. 4. Address attitudes and behaviors that led to committing the wrong. 5. Make amends for the wrong. 32 For Holmgren, wrongdoers must fully renounce their actions, participating in an attitude of self-condemnation. Wrongdoers should act in ways that promote their victims’ well-being, not making their changed behavior dependent upon the victims. Wrongdoers should demonstrate that they are different persons, regardless of victims’ attitudes. Wrongdoers must demonstrate that they are, in fact, different from the person who committed the wrong.

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Not only do secular philosophers conceptualize repentance as a transformative event, but so do secular psychological accounts. Estelle Frankel summarizes a psychological conception of repentance in the following way: “repentance” is “the capacity for integration of good and bad feelings about oneself,” which serves an “important developmental goal.” 33 She goes on to argue that repentance be understood as “essential for a three-dimensional emotional maturity, for sustaining positive self-esteem, and for the ability to establish long-term intimate relationships,” what Frankel refers to as “psychic wholeness.” 34 Achieving psychic wholeness allows for individuals to come to terms with themselves and their internal psychological discontinuities, and to avoid the isolation that often occurs after wrongdoing, by reintegrating into society. Repentance allows for this reintegration, both interpersonally with victims and socially with one’s community. This only happens as a result of the process of transformation that occurs upon achieving psychic wholeness. Julia Kristeva provides a final account of the psychological transformation one endures through repentance, as part of the process of forgiveness. Kristeva develops a psychoanalytic approach that focuses on the psychological development of certain human emotions like hatred. According to Kristeva, hatred is “coextensive with human nature,” 35 and is the result of humanity’s abjection from original repression. By “abjection,” Kristeva means “an important, yet traumatic, event occurs as individuals begin to separate themselves from their parents”—what she calls the process of “neotenous demarcation.” This abjection causes hatred, which results from the dual psychological acts of separation from others (i.e., the drive to be an individual) and the pulling toward of all things (i.e., the inter-connectedness of human existence). It is this struggle—between becoming an individual and being part of the whole—that gives birth to the self and culture. 36 This “birthing” of self and culture is a traumatic experience—it creates us and it protects us, but it can also destroy and send us into insanity. We can deal with the effects of abjection by filling ourselves with hatred, defining ourselves in terms of those we hate, and living in a state of war with others, or by providing the “gift of a new way of being” to others by seeking forgiveness. 37 Forgiveness allows the hatred of the ego to be temporally suspended, in order to begin a rebirth of one’s self. Of course, the hatred will return, it is the natural state of the ego; but forgiveness provides an opportunity for individuals to ease the psychological struggle between themselves and others and to find peace. Kristeva’s focus is on forgiveness, but what she describes as the process of forgiveness includes the phenomenon of repentance suggested in the previous paragraphs. I am not suggesting we try and incorporate repentance into Kristeva’s account, but since her discussion of the process of forgiveness matches what has been said so far about repentance, and since there are nontheistic reasons for supporting the transformative nature of repentance, I see

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nothing wrong with framing aspects of Kristeva’s process of forgiveness in terms of repentance. According to Kristeva, only forgiveness can combat hatred—it “pardons” and allows for the “rebirth of the psychical apparatus.” 38 In order for Forgiveness to occur, then, moral agents must be capable of reframing their lives in such a way as to combat the hatred that results from our natural engagement with the world. This rebirth requires a change in the life of individuals, and it is the only means to combat hatred in the aftermath of wrongdoing. Rebirth, however, requires a complete transformation of the self toward a new self, or at least a commitment to such a transformation. If we understand this rebirth as repentance, then, we arrive at the conclusion that rebirth creates new life-goods that individuals need in order to flourish. More specifically, like everyone else, wrongdoers need to be free from the hatred that is part of human existence, and by utilizing repentance, wrongdoers create a space—and sometimes a need—for forgiveness. If true, then repentance is capable of making forgiveness a life-good. In light of the above discussion of repentance, I see no way to deny the transformative power of repentance in the lives of wrongdoers. Whether religious or secular, the phenomenon of what I am referring to as repentance changes wrongdoers in such a way that their needs have altered, and as a result, their rights have changed. Unrepentant wrongdoers fail to recognize that a wrong has been committed and so fail to transform their needs, but repentant wrongdoers admit wrongdoing, commit to becoming persons who would not perform such acts, and if possible, work toward making restitution to their victims. Genuinely repentant wrongdoers denounce their former selves and set out anew to be a different and better person. As a result, if repentant wrongdoers incorporate the need for forgiveness into their lives, as part of or as one of the goals of repentance, then forgiveness becomes a need in their lives; and according to eirenéism, they deserve (i.e., have a right to) forgiveness in order to flourish. I can imagine many readers being amenable to this conclusion, yet hesitant to accept it due to several criticisms. For one, there is an epistemic question over when and how we can know that a wrongdoer is genuinely repentant. My experience with epistemology leads me to believe that we can never know for certain if someone is genuinely repentant. Even if someone performs every action associated with repentance, and says all of the right words, we can never know with certainty that the wrongdoer is not engaged in some form of manipulation or other self-centered act. The only solution that seems available, apart from advances in psychology and neuroscience that will allow us to know internal mental states, is to incorporate a theistic argument for how God addresses the objection. Such a solution, however, introduces its own set of issues, and in order to stay focused on the issues of this chapter, I will address the possibility of incorporating God into eirenéism in Chapter 4. For now, I will bracket the need for certainty in regard to

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repentance, for I do not think certainty is required. Most occurrences in the moral sphere satisfactorily take place without certainty, and if we bracket this epistemic question, then what remains is that repentance is a transformative event that is capable of making forgiveness a life-good. This conclusion leads to the second, and more pressing issue—what I call the repugnant implication. The repugnant implication suggests that no matter the wrongdoing, victims are obligated to forgive repentant wrongdoers; and if they do not, they themselves become wrongdoers. This is where I will turn my attention. THE REPUGNANT IMPLICATION, SELF-RESPECT, AND VICTIM NEEDS In the preceding pages, I argued that based on a variety of theistic and nontheistic accounts of repentance, repentance is best-understood as a transformative event that produces life-goods in the lives of wrongdoers. If forgiveness is one of these life-goods, then victims are obligated to forgive. As a result, if victims refuse to forgive, then they become wrongdoers themselves. Such an implication is repugnant and substantial enough to raise questions about the acceptability of eirenéism. To address the repugnant implication, several related conceptual issues need addressing. One issue arises simply from the nuanced nature of moral wrongdoing. Different instances of wrongdoing create their own unique relational features between victims and wrongdoers. Though sharing some similarities, the rape of a complete stranger has a different set of moral features than the sexually abusive father who rapes his child; the killing of a lover has a different set of moral features than the torture of an enemy combatant; the enslavement of a group of people has a different set of moral features than the systematic genocide of a group of people. Nevertheless, I will attempt to find common moral features from these and other types of wrongdoing to explain how to respect the moral worth of all parties involved. Much of this discussion will occur in the next chapter. Another conceptual feature related to the repugnant implication is that it is common for people to conceptualize forgiveness as a gift. In fact, the perceived requirement for forgiveness to be a gift appears to be why there are no rights-based accounts of forgiveness. As previously noted, rights often play a role in discussions of wrongdoing, but when the issue of forgiveness arises, commentators employ other ethical frameworks, often to avoid what I call the repugnant implication. Eirenéism, on the other hand, conceptualizes forgiveness as a matter of justice. As noted in the previous chapter, the faithfulness exhibited as a result of loving my wife is not a gift—it is not something I grant her, just as I do not grant my friends (and even strangers)

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respect. My faithfulness is a result of my wife’s worth and how it affects our relationship. Because of her worth, and the nature of our relationship, justice requires I be faithful, just as being a friend (or stranger) requires I be respectful. Since the need of forgiveness is based in the same worth that grounds the respect for life-goods, justice requires forgiveness. To make forgiveness (or love and respect) a mere gift is to suggest that moral agents have different levels of worth—I am superior to you, yet I choose to grant you the gift of my love, respect, and forgiveness. There will be, of course, times in which forgiveness is offered as a gift, when a victim chooses for her or his own sake to forgive, regardless of the repentance, regret, remorse, shame, and/or guilt of the wrongdoer. In such instances, victims go above-and-beyond what is morally required. In all other cases, however, when a wrongdoer genuinely repents, forgiving is a matter of justice; and as a result, victims are morally obligated to do so. It is at this point that I expect many readers to be opposed to eirenéism, and if this were all eirenéism had to say on the subject, then I would agree. However, eirenéism has several conceptual tools available to negate the repugnancy of the repugnant implication. The first one involves the concept of self-respect. Self-respect grounds many of our non-physical life-goods, though due to the nature of self-respect and how it impacts both our mental and physical health, it can ground physical life-goods too. As David Middleton points out, self-respect is considered by many to be “the most important primary good.” 39 Self-respect determines how we see ourselves and how we think others see us, and as a result, it influences both what we need and what we think we need, often grounding several other moral concepts—dignity, shame and pride, autonomy, servility, and security. 40 As Theodore Benditt describes, “The extent to which we respect ourselves is intimately connected with our idea of our worth, with our self-confidence, and our sense of competence and control of our lives.” 41 In terms of wrongdoing, self-respect creates a sort of “moral infrastructure” that requires respect from others and offers respect in return. 42 The principle of correlatives illustrates that moral agents have moral worth in relation to all other moral agents, but self-respect is the everyday practical recognition from each individual that she or he actually has the moral worth assumed by the principle of correlatives. So, without some sort of self-respect (as a recognition of one’s own moral worth), individuals will think they have no rights, or lack certain rights in regard to some wrongdoings. A battered spouse might defend her or his abuser by saying, “I deserve it.” As outsiders, we recognize that no one deserves to be beaten, because we recognize the moral worth of the one abused; but if those abused do not recognize their own moral worth, then they will think no wrong has occurred.

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Most writings on self-respect point to Stephen Darwall’s distinction between recognition respect and appraisal respect. 43 Recognition respect evaluates worth on a general level, determining the quality of a class of objects. 44 For example, as noted at the beginning of this book, humans were recognized as entities with moral worth. All humans, therefore, are recognized as having the worth required to ground a set of rights. Appraisal respect, on the other hand, focuses on the particulars of the class recognized as having moral worth; it is quantitative in nature. 45 Persons with little self-respect will appraise themselves as having less worth than others, while persons with an inflated sense of self-worth will rank themselves higher. Middleton develops a third type, what he calls “status self-respect,” which involves a recognition of our status in society. He describes it as “an acknowledgement that we are all members of various collectives, and these in some way are constitutive of the person we are. Although we are unique individuals, we are unique individuals within particular social environments in which our membership is crucial to our ability to respect others.” 46 Similarly, Benditt argues for a third type, noting two types of non-comparative self-respect—1) “self-respect that comes from subscribing to various values and moral standards and living up to them”; and 2) self-respect that comes from the estimation of our own moral worth in regard to such standards 47—and one type of comparative selfrespect—3) “how one person compares with another . . . comparing our place and success in life to others.” 48 Victims must accurately recognize and appraise their moral worth, in order to protect themselves from further victimization, and utilizing one or more of these types of self-respect helps prevent certain individual attitudes that might cause victims to devalue themselves and overemphasize their role as victim, while at the same time promote the accurate appraisal of one’s own comparative and non-comparative worth. Middleton’s third type of self-respect promotes an interconnectedness between agents, calling on individuals to support and help victims, while Benditt requires that individuals hold themselves and others to certain moral standards to protect themselves and others from abuse. Proper self-respect produces a more accurate consideration of value and merit that counters disrespectful attitudes toward ourselves and toward others. 49 Finally, accurate self-respect promotes a recognition and appropriate responses to the lifegoods of oneself and others. To quote Middleton: Self-respect is an attitude toward ourselves which is made public in the way in which we present ourselves. A person who possesses self-respect has a set of standards by which they live their life, they recognise themselves as of moral worth, they feel shame at their failures and pride at their successes, they are aware of their status in the world, not just the hierarchies that they may be part of, but of their status as a member of a particular communities. 50

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As a proper attitude of self-respect, Margaret Holmgren argues that reactive attitudes of unconditional forgiveness promote the character traits of respect, compassion, and good will, and have significant positive effects on our quality of life. 51 Similar to what has already been stated, Holmgren sees self-respect as the primary virtue that governs the process of addressing wrongdoing. Her process of forgiveness for victims includes: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Recovery of one’s self-esteem of value and self-worth. Recognize the act perpetrated against oneself was wrong. Acknowledge one’s true feelings about the wrong. Assess one’s situation (relationship) with the wrongdoer, protecting oneself from future victimization. 5. If appropriate, express one’s feelings toward the wrongdoer. 6. Determine whether she wants to seek restitution from the offender or to press criminal charges. 52 By completing this process, victims make themselves capable of genuine forgiveness, because they demonstrate self-respect, and they do not condone, self-deceive, or evade any of the issues related to the wrongdoing or the resulting victim-wrongdoer relationship. Holmgren’s analysis, along with Middleton’s and Benditt’s, illustrates the importance of self-respect in the aftermath of wrongdoing, and that any ethic of forgiveness must respect the needs of victims. Just as perpetrators retain their moral worth after wrongdoing, victims too retain their moral worth. Though I have focused mostly on the rights of wrongdoers, the injured party is the victim, and they should be supported and provided for in ways that wrongdoers are not. Holmgren provides a clear procedure for how victims can move forward, one that eirenéism would support because of its focus on individual peace and flourishing. The concept of self-respect illuminates how victims have life-goods that must be respected, for if eirenéism fails to respect the rights of any moral agents, it will fail as a moral theory of rights. Nevertheless, eirenéism is an ethic that calls on moral agents to both support their own well-being and the well-being of others. As we saw with repentance, wrongdoers are morally required to seek the flourishing of their victims, even if it costs them time, energy, and/or money. They must care for themselves, but for the peaceful justice of eirenéism to occur, the wrongdoer must also attend to the needs of the victim. The same is true for the victim. Victims, as self-respect shows, must care for and protect themselves, but they must also respect the rights of wrongdoers. As Holmgren suggests, we should identify with the one who has wronged us, seeking to secure “the most fundamental benefits in life” for all, 53 for peace only occurs when all needs are made available.

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When I am wronged, regardless of what the wrongdoer says or does, I have the permission-right to claim punishment—I am not obligated to punish, but I can choose to punish. I also have the permission-right to forgo it—I can choose to forgive, or some other intermediary. Due to the nature of the principle of correlatives, forgiveness is not simply about our own individual well-being, which would permit us to forgo doing things that we do not want to do (like forgiveness), but instead asks us to consider performing actions that are good for the well-being of all moral agents, even if we do not see clearly how such actions promote our individual flourishing. For there are many things that I am obligated to do as a result of the claim-rights of others, even though I do not see how they enhance my own well-being. For eirenic forgiveness to work, then, we must be able to condemn the wrong (and dissuade its future happenings) while respecting the moral worth of the wrongdoer; and so, the wrong action must be considered separate from the wrongdoer. If moral agents have inherent worth, then their actions cannot affect said worth. Granted, there are different ways to understand inherent worth, but whatever constitutes the inherent worth of an individual, it cannot be diminished by one’s actions. Eirenéism requires that we take into account this worth when considering what should be done after a wrong has occurred, and that because of this worth, we should act in ways that promote the flourishing of all moral agents in regard to this worth. 54 Repentant wrongdoers show that they reject the behavior associated with their wrongful action, and that they wish to make amends to see justice occur for the victim. They conceptualize themselves as a different person, a person who did not commit the wrong. Yet, because they are the ones who did the wrong, they are the ones who deserve punishment. As a result, an interesting conceptual issue arises—forgiveness appears to call on victims to give wrongdoers less than they deserve; which if true appears to make forgiveness unjust, since justice requires that individuals get what they deserve. Imagine lying deserves five units of displeasure, so if I lie to you, retributive justice requires you punish me with these five units. To avoid the condonation of my wrongdoing, you should hold some sort of resentment (a negative emotion toward my wrongdoing) for my lie. To not be upset at my wrongdoing would be to lack self-respect—the recognition that it is wrong for me to lie to you. In addition to resentment, to ensure I receive my five units of displeasure, you might also prevent my enjoyment of other goods (e.g., your company, conversation, smile, etc.). Is there any just way for you to lessen my punishment, if I were to genuinely be repentant? According to Wolterstorff, the only way to answer “yes” is if a victim’s forgiveness does not require the letting go “of all negative affect evoked by the wrongdoer.” 55 If forgiveness requires the letting go of all negative feelings, even the original feelings associated with the lie, then no negative feelings could be had toward the wrongdoer or the deed, which would require no punishment and

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would mean forgiveness is unjust. Separating the wrongdoer and deed, however, allows for a more dynamic ethic of forgiveness that only requires the letting go of resentment toward the wrongdoer, while allowing self-respect to ground a certain level of negative feelings toward the deed. The wrongness of the deed does not change, and forgiveness does not erase historical events, nor does my repentance. As part of my repentance, I recognize that I am the one who performed a wrong deed, and I am willing to be punished for it. The only thing that changes is that I refuse to allow historical events to define who I am, rejecting certain acts as being antithetical to my character. So, as a victim, justice allows you to punish me for the deed, remembering how I wronged you in the past by lying, but also lessen my punishment because of my moral worth and (in this case) repentance. The same sort of explanation is true for moral wrongdoing that violates legal codes. To help see, let us distinguish between retributive punishment (to punish wrongdoers for violating the law) and reprobative punishment (punishment “to condemn what was done and to send a message of noncondonation” 56). Reprobative punishment is a forward-looking type of punishment that is concerned with the welfare of the wrongdoer—it accepts the repentance of the wrongdoer and seeks an ameliorated punishment than what the wrongdoer deserves, according to the law. Eirenic forgiveness maintains that victims should condemn the wrongdoer, which retributive justice requires, but also calls on victims to consider the wrongdoer’s repentance, which will require a decrease in the victim’s resentment toward the wrongdoer. Without repentance, there is no ground for thinking the wrongdoer deserves any less than resentment and punishment. Non-repentant wrongdoers identify with their wrongs and, thereby, identify with their just punishments. However, a wrongdoer’s repentance changes the nature of the moral relationship, which motivates the need for reprobative justice to supplant the punishment that retributive justice requires. In terms of justice, to forgive an unrepentant wrongdoer is to make forgiveness unacceptably arbitrary; to insult the wrongdoer by, and to demean one’s own moral worth by, not treating the wrong with full moral seriousness—it risks trivializing moral wrongdoing. 57 To quote Joram Haber, “[A] wrongdoer’s repentance is the only reason to forgive that is consistent with self-respect . . .” 58 So, in order to avoid further victimizing those who have suffered wrongdoing, repentance of a wrongdoer is a necessary condition for any sort of moral consideration regarding forgiveness, and the only just means by which a victim may exhibit self-respect while also punishing wrongdoers with less than they deserve. This does not imply that any victim who forgives without the wrongdoer’s repentance has done something unethical. As noted previously, there are many instances when a victim can ethically forgive without any input or actions from the wrongdoer. In terms of justice, however, in order for forgiveness to not be unjust there must be some sort of event(s) that ameliorates

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what wrongdoers deserve. Repentance creates such a situation where the reprobative justice of forgiveness is appropriate. RIGHTS OF VICTIMS IN CONFLICT By utilizing self-respect, eirenéism protects the rights of victims, while at the same time calling on victims (and all moral agents) to consider the needs of others, and when capable, provide for such needs. When others have rights to certain goods, then we must strive to make them available, even if it goes against our ungrounded intuitions about what is good or the “best” outcome. If I am owed a fair and impartial decision concerning a piece of art that I entered into a competition, then the judge is obligated to give me a fair and impartial decision, even if the judge has several “good” reasons for not being impartial. One “good” reason might be that one of the contestants will be devastated by the loss that results from a fair and impartial decision, and because the judge knows about this contestant he wants to act compassionately to prevent the contestant’s emotional distress. However, my rights act as a trump on the behavior of the judge, marking out the boundaries of acceptable moral behavior. Just because the other contestant will suffer great distress, and even though eirenéism requires moral agents to act compassionately, the judge does not gain the right to ignore that to which I have a right. I have a right to win, assuming I have the best piece of art, and the other contestant lacks such a right. What the other contestant has a right to is to being told of her or his loss in a gentle and compassionate way, and if necessary provided some sort of therapy or counseling. Therefore, if the judge has knowledge of the emotional instability of the contestant, the judge should not ignore my rights and grant the prize to the other contestant; instead, he should grant me the prize, while at the same time providing some sort of assistance to the other contestant to ensure she or he is cared for properly. The rights of both me and the other contestant require the judge perform certain morally appropriate actions. Sometimes, however, the rights of individuals conflict. We saw such a conflict in Chapter 1 regarding food, but with the amount of conceptual material covered since, it will be helpful to reintroduce eirenéism’s three rules of application and examine how to resolve conflicts, especially in regard to forgiveness: Rule 1: Seeking to promote someone’s good or secure someone’s rights as ends in-themselves should never be done at the cost of wronging someone. Rule 2: One should seek to promote one’s own good and secure justice for oneself as ends in themselves, though never at the cost of wronging someone.

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When the rights between two agents conflict, Rules 1 and 2 lead to an impasse, because they require moral agents to provide for their own needs, provide for the needs of others, and at the same time, neither wrong oneself nor the other. Rule 3 breaks the impasse by allowing moral agents to “diminish the flourishing of agents” (but not wrong them), when doing so promotes the greater good, in the sense of a more just state of affairs. The rejoinder “and never at the cost of wronging someone” keeps eirenéism from becoming utilitarianism by only allowing temporary harm (i.e., diminishing flourishing); as long as the harm is done in conjunction with one’s working toward the greater flourishing of the other. Only then, does the diminishing of one’s flourishing not wrong the other person. For this to occur, we must distinguish between “wronging” someone and “diminishing the person’s flourishing.” To wrong someone is to not make available the goods to which one has a right, which creates a state of injustice; while to diminish a person’s flourishing is to somehow perform an action or to say something that inhibits (or limits) the enjoyment of some good or activity. If Jenny is owed forgiveness, and I am capable of providing it, then I wrong her by withholding my forgiveness. My act is no different than Chapter 1’s Peter with more than enough food, who wronged Paul by withholding the food he needs. However, if Jenny is owed forgiveness, and I am incapable of providing it, then I do not wrong her by not providing it; just as if Peter has no food, he does not wrong Paul by not giving him food. Since I am incapable of providing forgiveness, I do not wrong Jenny by not providing it. Eirenéism, however, maintains that because of our moral worth, my obligation to provide forgiveness/food does not cease simply because I am currently incapacitated. Instead, Rule 3 calls on me to work toward being capable of forgiveness. So, if I am incapable of providing forgiveness to Jenny, Rule 3 says that I can diminish her flourishing only temporally, until I am capable of making available her life-good of forgiveness. Once I am able to forgive, I can carry out Rule 1 by forgiving Jenny without violating Rule 2. Rule 1 requires one seek the good of others (to make sure they have the goods to which they have a right), and Rule 2 requires one seek one’s own life-goods. The combination of these Rules, along with Rule 3, implies that moral agents should be continually seeking (i.e., working toward) ensuring all moral agents have the life-goods to which they have a right, on a personal, interpersonal, and broader social level. Eirenéism is an ethic of compassion

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and recognized vulnerability that maintains peace only occurs when we are all working toward ensuring each other’s flourishing. For an eirenist, the obligation to provide for others, based on their inherent worth, exists regardless of our capacity to provide. What occurs when one is incapable of making a life-good available is that the obligation manifests itself differently, as an obligation to work toward providing said lifegood(s). As Wolterstorff says, “What each of us should do, and more narrowly, what each of us ought to do, depends crucially on our abilities, our resources, our circumstances, our opportunities, even our convictions.” 60 So, a moral agent who has only sufficient goods to which she or he has a right is not required to give up said goods, in order to provide for others, since doing so creates an impasse; but, in such cases, the obligation to provide for other’s life-goods manifests itself as an obligation to work toward providing for those life-goods. Such a conclusion is consistently grounded by eirenéism and is supported by common examples. For instance, imagine you are on an airplane with just one other passenger who is sitting next to you, and due to a decrease in cabin pressure, oxygen masks are needed. Unfortunately, for the other passenger, the only masks to deploy is the one in front of you and one at the front of the plane. Both of you have a right to an oxygen mask, but without a mask, neither of you can reach the front of the plane in time. As anyone who has ever flown knows, you should first put your mask on before helping others, and because the mask that deploys in front of you is “yours,” your obligation is to put the mask on, and only then, should you attempt to get the other person a mask. Hence, you have a right to the life-good of the mask, even at the temporary expense of the other passenger, because doing so produces the greatest amount of justice. Of course, once you have your mask, you have the obligation to help your fellow passenger get oxygen. To not allow for such a moral feature would suggest that you both have (and do not have) a right to the mask in front of you, which means you both will die. It is only by allowing the individual who has ownership of the mask, the right to the lifegood of the mask, and then obligating the one with the mask to seek the good of the other, that both individuals are saved. The same is true for all lifegoods, including forgiveness. This is the sort of just moral landscape that eirenéism supports, and will be used to show why the repugnant implication is not repugnant. The repugnant implication is only repugnant because it implies victims become wrongdoers when they do not forgive their wrongdoers. A strict obligation to forgive does lead to the repugnant implication, but eirenéism takes into account the needs and abilities of both victims and wrongdoers, recognizing that there are times when moral agents are incapable of discharging their obligations. Such an inability, however, does not imply that the lifegood/right that creates a corollary obligation does not exist, but it does sug-

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gest that obligations can manifest in different ways. Repentant wrongdoers make forgiveness a life-good, which then obligates victims to forgive. However, when victims are unable to forgive, eirenéism maintains that the obligation to forgive manifests as an obligation to work toward forgiveness. The phenomenon of “working toward” will be different for different individuals and situations. Some victims will need time to reflect and consider the wrongdoing, others will need counseling, and as we will see later, others will dedicate their lives to charities, education, and criminal justice. Eirenéism provides no guidelines in terms of what is required of this “working toward” or timeline for when forgiveness should be completed. Such things are contingent to victims, and as long as they are in some way attempting to come to terms with how they were wronged (e.g., Holmgren’s process of forgiveness discussed above), they do not wrong anyone by not forgiving. With the conceptual diffusing of the repugnant implication presented, it is now time to test whether such an explanation can withstand the weight of problematic cases. To this end, in the next chapter I will turn our attention toward heinous wrongdoing, sometimes considered unforgivable, then toward other possible justified responses, such as revenge. NOTES 1. Kathryn Norlock, Forgiveness from a Feminist Perspective (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, a division of Rowman and Littlefield Publishing, 2009). 2. Derek Parfit, Reasons and Persons (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984). 3. I would like to thank Jeff Cervantes for making this point at the 2016 American Academy of Religion Annual Meeting. 4. Eve Garrard, “Forgiveness and the Holocaust,” in Moral Philosophy and the Holocaust, eds. Eve Garrard and Geoffrey Scarre (England: Ashgate, 2003), 237. 5. Iham Dilman, “Shame, Guilt and Remorse,” Philosophical Investigations 22, no. 4 (1999): 312. 6. I concede that there is a way of understanding remorse and regret as conceptually similar to repentance, as a life-style commitment to not repeating certain wrongful actions. If a reader accepts this stronger notion of remorse and regret, then what I have to say about repentance should hold true for both, and I take no issue with both being right-generating events. However, remorse and regret seem like weaker moral concepts, and I will use them in this weaker way to describe what some might call “feeling bad” for doing something wrong, whether an actual or perceived wrong. 7. Estelle Frankel, “Repentance, Psychotherapy, and Healing Through a Jewish Lens,” American Behavioral Scientist 41, no. 6 (1998): 814. 8. Solomon Schimmel, Wounds Not Healed by Time: The Power of Repentance and Forgiveness (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 7. 9. Ibid., 148–149. 10. Ibid., 66 and 69. 11. Ibid., 141. 12. Ibid., 144 and 219. 13. Ibid., 156. 14. Ibid., 177.

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15. George Gus Christo, ed., The Fathers of the Church: St. John Chrysostom on Repentance and Almsgiving, trans. Gus George Christo (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University Press, 1998), xviii. 16. Ibid., xiv. 17. John Chrysostom, The Fathers of the Church: St. John Chrysostom on Repentance and Almsgiving, trans. Gus George Christo (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University Press, 1998), 10. 18. Ashley Null, Thomas Cranmer’s Doctrine of Repentance: Renewing the Power to Love (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 34–35. 19. Ibid., 252. 20. Schimmel, 66. 21. Etienne Mullet and Fabiola Azar, “Apologies, Repentance, and Forgiveness: A MuslimChristian Comparison,” International Journal for the Psychology of Religion 12 (2009): 277 and 283. 22. Chawkat Moucarry, The Search for Forgiveness: Pardon and Punishment in Islam and Christianity (Nottingham, England: Inter-Varsity Press, 2011), 207. 23. Ibid. 24. Schimmel, 157. 25. David Lambert, How Repentance Became Biblical: Judaism, Christianity, and the Interpretation of Scripture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 4. 26. Ibid., 8–9. 27. Ibid., 1. 28. Schimmel, 144. 29. Glen Pettigrove, “Hume on Forgiveness and the Unforgivable,” Utilitas 19, no. 4 (2007): 454. 30. Ibid., 455. 31. David Hume, quoted in Pettigrove, 450. 32. Margaret Holmgren, Forgiveness and Retribution: Responding to Wrongdoing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 107–111. 33. Frankel, 814. 34. Ibid. 35. Julia Kristeva, Hatred and Forgiveness, trans. Jeanine Herman (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010), 183. 36. Ibid., 185. 37. Ibid., 191. 38. Ibid., 193. 39. John Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), 440, in David Middleton, “Three Types of Self-Respect, Res Publica 12 (2006): 59. 40. David Middleton, “Three Types of Self-Respect,” 59. 41. Theodore M. Benditt, “Why Respect Matters,” Journal of Value Inquiry 42 (2008): 487. 42. Middleton, 60. 43. Stephen Darwall, “Two Kinds of Respect,” in Ethics and Personality: Essays in Moral Psychology, ed. John Deigh (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), 65–78. 44. Middleton, 62; and Benditt, 488. 45. Ibid. 46. Middleton, 70–71. 47. Benditt, 489. 48. Ibid., 490. 49. Ibid., 494–495. 50. Middleton, 75. 51. Holmgren, Forgiveness and Retribution, 58–64. 52. Ibid. 53. Ibid., 185. 54. We can, of course, think of wrongdoers who seem to delight in wrongdoing. In such cases, it becomes more difficult to say what they need, though their actions and statements will often be indicative of their needs. If they are not repentant, and have proved that any claims of

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repentance will not be backed up by repentant behavior, then they have shown that they do not need any special consideration regarding their rehabilitation. They still should be treated with respect, but they will deserve any ameliorated punishment. 55. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice in Love (Grand Rapids, MI, and Cambridge: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2011), 168. 56. Ibid., 201. 57. One reviewer noted: “This suggests that Jesus’ prayer for the forgiveness of unrepentant people at the cross was a trivialization of the wrongdoing. Is this the implication? I see it more as shame than as trivialization. To put the wrongdoer into a shameful position is to win, not to trivialize.” I worried that addressing such an intriguing observation in the text would detract from the issue at hand, for it would require a lengthy discussion of Jesus’ intentions on the cross. I agree with the reviewer that Jesus’ intention was not to trivialize wrongdoing, but I am not sure it was designed to shame wrongdoers either. Some of Paul’s writings on forgiveness imply a level of shame relating to forgiveness (e.g., Romans 12:20 “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”), but Jesus’ motives appear to be different. Regardless of theological interpretation, the point of this section is to argue that justice requires repentance, in order to prevent forgiveness from being unjust. 58. Joram Haber, “Forgiveness and Feminism,” Norms and Values: Essays on the Work of Virginia Held, ed. Joram G. Haber and Mark S. Halfon (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 1998), 141. 59. Ibid., 119 and 130. 60. Ibid., 131.

Chapter Three

The Unforgivable and Vengeance

In Chapters 1 and 2, I developed and defended the eirenic argument for why victims are obligated to forgive repentant wrongdoers, and I showed how such a state of affairs is not morally repugnant. The remaining three chapters are dedicated to providing answers to some of the conceptual and practical questions raised in the previous two chapters. The current chapter will first address what is called “the unforgivable,” arguing that there are no inherently unforgivable acts or wrongdoers. Next, I discuss a variety of detailed cases to illustrate the complex nature of wrongdoing and how eirenéism deals with cases that serve as strong candidates for being consider unforgivable. Such an analysis will clarify why nothing is inherently unforgivable, while providing guidance on how to apply eirenic forgiveness to some of the most difficult cases imaginable. Finally, I turn to an examination of revenge, as an alternative response to forgiveness, and argue that the obligation to seek forgiveness will always override any supposed right to seek revenge. UNFORGIVABLE ACTS AND APPLYING EIRENÉISM As Kathryn Norlock suggests, to label certain acts “unforgivable” obscures the complex and rich interpersonal and social aspects of wrongdoing. 1 Yet, I imagine most readers have an intuition that some acts and people are unforgivable. I, too, struggle with the scope and severity of some wrongs, but I struggle more with the idea that individuals could be so irrevocably evil that they are beyond any chance of being forgiven, even if they undergo a complete change of attitude and character. To say something is unforgivable implies that the object of resentment can never be forgiven. If I say a rock is unbreakable, I do not mean “I cannot break it, therefore, it is unbreakable.” 47

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What I mean is that the rock is such that no matter the force, it will not break. Unforgivable, then, should apply to either the act or the wrongdoer, or both, and due to the nature of humans, as beings who have an amazing ability to change, the term “unforgivable” does not appear to apply. There are times when forgiveness might be inappropriate or impossible, due to some intractable barrier (e.g., distance, anonymity, death), but no human seems completely beyond forgiveness. Forgiveness might be beyond the capacity of some victims, but even such an incapacity does not imply that it is impossible for the wrongdoer to be forgiven. Some individuals frame “unforgivable” in terms of evil, heinous, and wicked wrongdoing, performed on a large scale; some frame it in terms of intimate violations of trust between friends and loved ones; while others focus on personal attacks from either strangers or close confidants. It is this sort of struggle that I will examine in the following pages, but instead of trying to present cases for each and every possible unforgivable act, I will offer three broad case studies to test the intuitions of readers and to illustrate the application of eirenic forgiveness. Before we engage in an examination of these cases, let us spend some time making sure we understand the moral landscape of what it means to be “unforgivable.” There are several ways in which something might be considered unforgivable. The first, and most uncontroversial, involves individuals engaged in the act of forgiving. Physically, a victim might be unable to offer forgiveness because the wrongdoer is unknown, unable to be found, or dead. Technically, the victim could still forgive, as a personal attitude or declaration, but actually extending forgiveness to the wrongdoer would be impossible. The same is true, if the victim is dead. Murder is the most common example given as an unforgivable act, because the victim is no longer alive to offer forgiveness. Unless one believes in the ability to commune with the dead, I see no way to respond except to agree that murder is unforgivable, at least in regard to the murdered victim. Murder, however, usually does not wrong only one person. Since eirenéism is grounded in the moral relationship between individuals, when one of those individuals ceases to exist, that particular moral relationship will no longer exist. So, there will be no rights or obligations for the surviving party, unless the wrongdoing affected others. Friends and family of victims are also victims, and therefore, capable of extending forgiveness. Those others will have their own individual set of rights and obligations to address. Nevertheless, though maybe a better term could be utilized than “unforgivable,” I would agree that there are physical barriers that make forgiveness impossible. The second category involves groups of individuals and governmental organizations engaging in the process of forgiveness. Social reconciliation will be discussed in Chapter 5, but for now, I would like to briefly suggest why “unforgivable” (and “forgiveness”) do not apply to the category of political apology. As Griswold suggests, political apology shares certain

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family resemblances to the process of interpersonal forgiveness, but a close examination reveals an imperfect match. As he notes, “The overlap between the ideals of political apology and those guiding the narrative of forgiveness are only partial. That latter included ideals of harmony of self, of affection, and of love; these are not ideals required for the narrative of political apology.” 2 The difficulties of social-political forgiveness and wrongdoing result from the disconnect between individual attitudes, beliefs, and actions and how such features manifest in political organizations, policies, and procedures. Without getting bogged down, I would simply like to suggest that political organizations are not legitimate objects of my resentment and forgiveness. I might use language improperly and say, “I am angry at that political party because they removed funding for orphans, so their corporate buddies could get a big tax break,” but I am not actually angry at the party, as something similar to the legal fiction known as a corporate person. I am angry at the particular individuals who removed the funding, who happen to be part of the party. The same would be true if the party reestablished the funding. I would be forgiving the specific individuals who reestablished the funding, not the party. So, when discussing groups, it is legitimate to talk of forgiving a group, if what one means is that each member of the group is being forgiven. Imagine the board of a company making a decision that causes some workers in one of its factories to get sick. If each member of the board asks for forgiveness, then it makes sense to say the company’s board asks for forgiveness. The more precise thing to say, however, is that each board member of the company asked for forgiveness. Saying the board or company asked for forgiveness obscures what really happened, because it gives the appearance that all members repented, when the reality might be that only a few did so. The same sort of reason holds when we say, “The workers offered the company forgiveness.” If what we mean is that each worker offered the board members forgiveness as a group, then being able to trace the wrongdoing and forgiveness back to individuals makes the reasoning sound. If on the other hand, we mean the legal fiction known as a corporate person asked its workers for forgiveness, or the workers granted the legal fiction known as a corporate person forgiveness, then the language of forgiveness is inappropriate. In a sense, then, groups are unforgivable, since the term “forgiveness” does not appropriately apply. Such a distinction is not philosophically interesting in terms of the current discussion. The third category involves individuals engaging in the psychological process of forgiveness, for it is within this category that most barriers to forgiveness occur. Since a psychological process is an internal process, the physical existence of the wrongdoer is not necessary, so questions of physical barriers can be ignored. In this category, many commentators will focus on the attitudes and beliefs of victims in order to determine if an act or

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wrongdoer is unforgivable, which will lead to many different answers for what is or is not unforgivable. Herein lies the problem: if “unforgivable” is tied to personal psychological states of victims, then there will be no true universal answer to the question of “what is unforgivable?” A wrong I find easy to forgive, you might find beyond your ability, and if truth depends on our internal mental states, then we are both right. I have already argued that “unforgivable” should be defined in terms of the wrongdoer, and the relativism that results from making it dependent on individual mental states is further proof it should not be defined in terms of victims. To say something is unforgivable implies that either the act or wrongdoer are beyond forgiveness. I have already shown why it is unwise to apply “unforgivable” to wrongdoers, since doing so gives them too much power over victims and their ability to forgive; but if we separate wrongdoers from their deeds, then we create a conceptual space where the act might be unforgivable and the wrongdoer forgivable. If acts are incapable of being forgiven, then we should be able to analyze such acts to determine what makes them unforgivable. Let us turn our attention to such an analysis, starting with the example of torture, broadly understood to include acts of unwanted physical and/or psychological domination, for political, sexual, or other ends. Torturers serve as a good subject of a case study because they typically act on assumptions that their actions are just and right. So, even in the face of criticism, torturers will often rely on their deeply held convection that what they did was necessary to achieve some morally justified end. According to Glen Pettigrove, torturers who fail to transform from objects of hatred to objects of beneficence do not make themselves unforgivable; they merely negate any external justification for why one should forgive. 3 The victim’s forgiveness would be supererogatory, but not morally required. Focusing on the act does not seem to help either. I find it difficult to make sense of the notion that certain acts are inherently unforgivable. Some acts might be inherently immoral, but I am unsure about what it means for them to be unforgivable. For “unforgivable” to apply to acts, then it should be possible to grant forgiveness to some acts/instruments involved in wrongdoing, but I do not see how this can be done. Moral agents are the subject of forgiveness. One does not forgive the act of being shocked, sliced, or raped, just as one does not forgive the knife that cuts the skin, or the instruments used to violate the body. One forgives the agent who performed certain actions and used certain tools. What does make sense is to say, “I can forgive you as a person, but I cannot forgive the things you did.” I understand the meaning of such a statement, though it misuses the term “forgive.” What is being said is that you can forgive the person, but you refuse to condone the act. Related to this discussion is the fear that forgiving too fast is a moral act of condonation, but forgiving and condoning are two different concepts. If “unforgivable” simply means “an act that should never be condoned,” then I would agree that some

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acts are unforgivable. However, I would suggest that the better solution is to drop the use of “unforgivable” and use some cognate of “non-condonation” to more accurately capture the meaning of the sentence. MacAlester Bell uses the phrase “conditionally unforgivable” to describe the process of victims coming to terms with how they have been wronged. 4 For instance, Miroslav Volf provides an example of trying to forgive a torturer in The End of Memory, and throughout the book, he struggles to arrive at an inner-peace where he remembers the past correctly, not inflating his suffering and the significance of his torture, and eventually develops an honest account of how he has been wronged. His torturer seems unforgivable. Yet, after several attempts to engage in the process of forgiveness, Volf is successful. Volf’s struggle and eventual coming to terms with being wronged is a good example of how some wrongdoers might be considered “unforgivable,” until engaging in the process of forgiveness provides avenues for how individuals can move beyond their unforgiving attitudes. Even with the above, some readers will remain skeptical that there are no instances of the unforgivable. Jeffrie Murphy examines one such fictional person, the General from Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brother Karamazov, who serves as a representation for real-life individuals capable of committing the most extreme forms of wrongdoing possible. In the story, the general forces a mother to watch her son be mauled to death by a pack of dogs, because the boy hurt the paw of one of the general’s favorite hounds. In the book, even the most moral character, a Christian monk devoted to forgiveness, responds that the general deserves to be shot. As a third-party, it is hard to imagine the mother’s pain, and even harder to think she would ever be able to forgive. Nevertheless, the mother’s inability to forgive does not imply that the general is unforgivable. A repentant general might motivate the mother to seek forgiveness, but such repentance would have to be on a scale appropriate to the wrong; though there is no inclination that Dostoevsky’s general will ever be repentant. Are people like the unrepentant general unforgivable? Murphy struggles to find an answer, saying, “There are no simple formulas or decision procedures on issues of this nature.” 5 He finds hope in recognizing the general’s human dignity, that such a recognition opens the door (only slightly) and provides a basis for treating the general with a minimal level of respect. Eve Garrard offers a similar response when discussing the Holocaust, maintaining that even though such wrongdoing involves savage murderers, we all share similar human conditions that provide reasons to act in certain ways. We all seem capable of doing massive evil, such as studies like the Stanley Milgram experiments on the obedience to authority and Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford prison experiment show, and as a result, we all share in the shame of evildoers. As Garrard describes, we all see ourselves in evildoers, and this shame is “morally rich enough, significant enough, to generate a reason to forgive them.” 6 The recognition of worth described by Mur-

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phy and Garrard illustrate perfectly how eirenéism views wrongdoers. It does not suggest that such a recognition is easy, or that sometimes wrongdoers strive to make us think it is absent, but regardless of our situation or psychological abilities (or inabilities), moral agents cannot lose their inherent worth. They and their actions deserve scorn, anger, and punishment, but they never deserve a loss of worth. As Trudy Govier says: I submit that no one is absolutely unforgivable, whatever he or she may have done in this world. But there are many people—thousands, perhaps millions— who are conditionally unforgivable because they have committed or condoned appalling wrongs and offer to the victims and affected communities no acknowledgement or restitution. The moral challenge is not to hold out a gauntlet against those who have committed evil but to encourage them to acknowledge wrongdoing and undertake a commitment to fundamental moral change. 7

What Govier explains is what I take to be the purpose of moral reasoning and discussion. It is one of the practical reasons why I find eirenéism so appealing: we are never to forget that we are all inherently worthy, and that flourishing occurs only when we all commit to a moral life that recognizes and respects this worth in ourselves and others. One final author worth mentioning is Jessica Wolfendale, who details the dangers of accepting the concept of unforgivable. Her argument is presented below, but briefly, Wolfendale presents a strong case for why unforgiving attitudes threaten to turn victims into wrongdoers willing to perpetrate the same evils committed against themselves. The previous discussion focused on theoretical case studies and terminology, but it is now time to focus our attention to how eirenéism deals with difficult situations that occur (or have occurred) in real life. I will present the following three sets of cases as ones most likely to be considered to contain illustrations of the unforgivable: stealing between close friends, rape/torture, and genocide/mass-atrocities. After presenting each, I will examine the sort of normative guidance provided by eirenéism, illustrating how the obligation to forgive manifests, therefore, avoiding being unforgivable. What is more, these cases are also designed to support the previous chapter’s conclusion that in the face of heinous wrongdoing, an obligation to forgive is not only not repugnant but is also what we would consider praiseworthy behavior and a sign of moral maturity. FRIENDSHIP, STEALING, AND THE DEVASTATION OF TRUST Let us look at two different cases of stealing that contain varying moral features: one that deals with the theme of stealing food, and one that deals

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with the theme of stealing a friend’s drugs, in order to help him quit. Both cases will assume that the two main moral agents are intimately close friends, which means any wrong will have an added violation of trust that occurs when close friends wrong each other. In the first case, Fred steals several portions of bread from Barney and his family. For the sake of argument, assume Fred is not stealing the bread out of spitefulness or just because he wants a little more bread; Fred really needs the bread to feed himself and his family, and Barney is the only person in close proximity to Fred. Furthermore, assume Fred’s lack of bread is not a result of his own doing: he works hard, and he is frugal with his money. 8 Fred simply does not have enough bread to feed his family, and he decides that the only way to get it is to steal some from Barney. Continuing to focus on Fred, how would eirenéism explain his moral status? For one, eirenéism says that Fred has a right to enough bread to live: it is necessary to sustain his life, which means it contributes positively to his life having the worth it does have. Because the bread is a life-good for Fred, justice requires that bread be made available to Fred by all those who can provide it. In the current case, I am assuming that only Barney is in such a position. Nevertheless, as thus far explained, even though Fred has a right to bread, he does not necessarily have a right to Barney’s bread, because just like Fred, Barney has a right to the life-good of having bread. The rights and obligations of Barney and Fred will depend on how Barney’s portion of the case is explained. One scenario is to say Barney is struggling as much as Fred, and that he only has enough bread for his family. In other words, imagine Barney knows he needs four portions of bread a day for his family, and he is only able to supply his family with those four portions—he is not able to secure any more bread. The use of “needs,” as referring to that which is necessary for one’s life to flourish, can be problematic, since it seems to open the door for abuses. For instance, if Barney takes an agent-centered approach, he might simply say: times are hard, and I need all the bread I can get—so I have no extra bread to share with Fred, or anyone else. However, this explanation will not do in regard to eirenéism. Eirenéism calls moral agents to suffer both for and with others, and as a result, one must consider the needs (i.e., the life-goods) of others when considering one’s own needs. So, assuming Barney is an eirenist, when calculating how much bread he needs, he is morally required to also consider Fred’s needs, and if possible sacrifice a portion of what he has (or can obtain), in order to see that Fred gets that to which he has a right. Even in the case of Barney’s family, the only reason they have a right to the bread over Fred is because of their closeness to Barney and Barney’s role as family provider. Fred has the same rights as the family, but because of the limited

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amount of bread (no one can give any up without risking extreme starvation or death), Fred finds himself at the end of the bread line. 9 So, in the current case there are two moral agents who have a right to enough bread to contribute to their respective life’s flourishing (i.e., enough bread to survive). Through no fault of their own, Barney has just enough bread to survive, while Fred does not. Does eirenéism require Barney to give up a portion of his bread to ensure Fred’s survival? No. Barney has a right to his bread, and because he carefully considered both of their needs together, Barney is not morally obligated to sacrifice his family’s life-goods, in regard to the bread, in order to see Fred flourish. 10 In such a case, Barney giving Fred bread would be supererogatory. Forcing Barney to give up what he has a right to is to wrong him. Assuming Barney has made the appropriate compassionate calculations of he and Fred’s needs, and he is unable to provide for Fred’s need, then Barney is not obligated to give Fred any bread. Fred still has a right to bread, for he still needs bread in order to flourish, but he does not have a right to Barney’s bread. The right cannot be claimed, since to do so would call into question the notion of rights. As a reminder, to force Barney to give his bread to Fred would be to create a moral infinite regress: Barney’s giving to Fred would then obligate Fred to give to Barney, which would obligate Barney to give to Fred, ad infinitum. The regress is avoided because Barney has both done the appropriate eirenic calculations and only has enough bread to survive; and though he might be obligated to perform other actions, he is not obligated to give his bread. One might complain that such a right is vacuous, since there is no bread in which to have a right, but as illustrated in the previous chapter, the right still exists, but it manifests as a claim for Barney to work toward being capable of providing bread. Returning to the issue of Fred stealing Barney’s bread, if the above is correct, then Fred’s act of stealing is immoral. The bread (or more precisely, the sustenance it provides) is a life-good for Barney. What is more, the bread is part of Barney’s personal property, which is also a life-good to which he has a right. For Fred to steal Barney’s bread, he fails to live up to several of his obligations. Fred is obligated to see that Barney’s life-goods are obtained, and by stealing his bread, Fred is actively taking his life-goods away—both his life-good to sustenance and his life-good of private property. On a theoretical level, Fred fails to live up to the principles of eirenéism: he completely ignores the recipient-dimension of morality, he ignores Barney’s rights, and he disregards the principle of correlatives. Fred does all of these things because he only focuses on himself and his family—he is selfish, egotistical, and agent-centric. Fred’s suffering should not be discounted, but it also does not justify his theft. If the scenario is changed up a little, however, a different result will occur. Instead of Barney having just enough bread for himself and his family,

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imagine Barney has plenty of bread, or at least the ability to get enough bread for both his and Fred’s family. If this is the case, assuming Barney is not hundreds of miles away, and there are not others close by with excess bread, then Barney becomes obligated to provide Fred with any extra bread he might have, up to the point that Fred’s basic needs are met. Following the principle of correlatives, if Barney is able to provide Fred with a life-good that Fred has a right to, then Barney is morally required to make available said life-good. Even if Fred’s lack of bread is the result of him being lazy, he still has a right to the life-good of having bread made available to him. In such an instance, however, Barney might have a further obligation to provide Fred with a lecture/lesson (or whatever is appropriate) on not being lazy and how to go about obtaining bread on his own. Doing so might be a burden on Barney. He might have to give something up, but the necessity of the lifesustaining sustenance of bread overrides or trumps any extravagances that Barney might want. So, if Barney has enough bread, or is capable of getting enough bread (without sacrificing what he has a right to), then eirenéism maintains Barney is morally obligated to provide Fred with bread. The question then becomes: In this new case where Barney has extra bread, does Fred’s theft wrong Barney? Eirenéism suggests that as long as Fred first asks for some bread before resorting to theft, then the answer is “no.” Fred has a right to X amount of food (X being the minimum amount to live), and even though Barney has a right to the property of his bread, Barney does not have a right to withhold that to which Fred has a right. Just like Peter and Paul in Chapter 1, Fred has the claim right against Barney to Barney making available his excess bread. Therefore, in order to ensure the peace to which everyone has a right, Fred is justified in taking the bread to which he has a right. Though Barney will (probably) not perceive Fred’s actions this way, and Fred’s actions might damage their relationship, Fred’s actions create a just state of affairs. Barney has already damaged the relationship by withholding bread, thereby, wronging Fred. Ideally, Fred would not need to take Barney’s bread without permission, but in this extreme case, Fred’s right to sufficient food trumps Barney’s right to excess food. The next case of stealing presents an even more complex situation. So far, I have presented two parties, where one party has some good that the other needs, but now I want to present a case where one party (call him Roger) wants to steal from another party (call him Syd) in order to ensure that the second party can flourish. Imagine that both Syd and Roger are young and upcoming musicians, very talented, and are highly capable of flourishing in their profession. Syd, however, begins taking heroin, and begins to have difficulty writing, recording, and playing his songs. The heroin threatens to not only ruin Syd’s musical career, but it will probably cause his early death. Roger, on the other hand, is a concerned friend who recognizes Syd’s problems and begins looking for ways to help Syd. After many failed attempts to

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help Syd break his addiction to heroin, Roger determines the only way to help Syd is to steal his heroin and prevent him from obtaining any more, which he hopes will force Syd to quit. Roger enacts his plan, and against all odds, his plan works: Syd is on the road to recovery and he can resume his flourishing musical career. So, we have a case where a moral agent (Roger) steals some property (heroin) from another moral agent (Syd) in order to see Syd obtain another life-good (his friend’s flourishing). For eirenéism to give us a clear answer, then we must be able to distinguish between certain lifegoods that are better (or more basic), in the sense that they promote flourishing, than other less-basic life-goods. The tension in this case is between the mistaken good of having heroin, which Syd improperly perceives as a life-good, and the actual life-good of being able to flourish free from the effects of mind-altering drugs. But in such a case, who or what decides which life-good is primary? Syd’s judgment should be the best candidate for who gets to decide, but the effects of heroin seem to call into doubt his ability rationally to choose. While free from the drug he might choose a life free from the addiction, but if truly addicted, he will lack the ability to refrain from using the drug. As an outsider, Roger seems in the best position to decide which life-good is primary, since as a friend, he cares deeply for Syd. To take this route, however, is to risk making eirenéism an overly parentalistic ethic. As Wolterstorff notes, there are times when others have a better idea of what is best for our own flourishing, and in these cases, others are obligated to help us achieve this flourishing. In such instances, Wolterstorff says, “[I]f we concede that it does make a positive contribution to the worth of his life, we have to conclude that its positive contribution is toward how his life goes, not toward how his life is lived.” 11 In other words, we must distinguish between the trajectory of Syd’s life (where his life is headed hooked on heroin vs. where it might head if he were not hooked on heroin) and how his life is being lived (in a constant state of temporary, yet destructive pleasure). Syd might be happy taking heroin, and he might make wonderful music, but Roger is in a state of mind in which he realizes that even though the heroin is part of Syd’s current “goods,” the heroin will eventually lead to his overall life going poorly. Assuming Roger’s analysis is correct, does eirenéism support the conclusion that it is morally permissible for Roger to steal Syd’s drugs? Even assuming Syd has a right to the state of having heroin made available to him, since it is a perceived good for him, the state of not having heroin, as the state that leads to Syd’s overall flourishing, trumps the state of having heroin. Because of this, Roger is obligated to do something to help ensure Syd achieves the state of not having heroin. Roger’s obligation, then, as far as I can tell, allows him to steal the heroin, if it is the best/only way to help Syd achieve his potential state of flourishing. Stealing might diminish Syd’s pleasure, but it does not wrong him. Of course, eirenéism will also require

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Roger do much more: e.g., provide care during Syd’s withdrawal period, help provide counseling, remain a supportive friend, etc. I think this is correct, but it is important to make clear that such a conclusion cannot be generalized to all cases. There is a qualitative difference between the deleterious effects of heroin and the deleterious effects of, say, fried food. Though fried food might prevent a moral agent’s ability to flourish as much as she might without it, and it might cause loved ones to treat her or him as being unhealthy, fried food does not have the same devastating effects on one’s rational ability as heroin. Consequently, we might be morally obligated to help a friend who eats too much fried food change her diet, but we do not have the same obligation that we would have if she were addicted to physical- and mental-deleterious drugs. So, the parentalistic justification for the obligation to prevent a friend from ruining his life (in this case, by stealing) should only occur in rare circumstances. Though some might abuse this feature of eirenéism, I do not think it should deter its acceptability. In fact, such a possibility seems to match up nicely with common occurrences of friends, families, and communities doing whatever it takes to help a loved one through or out of a very difficult situation. Eirenéism provides both an impetus and a justification for disrespecting certain (less-basic?) rights in order to see the flourishing of others. Eirenéism, then, maintains stealing is morally impermissible, except when what is being stolen is deleterious to both the rational thinking of the moral agent and the overall flourishing of that individual, and when one is withholding that to which another has a right. With that in mind, it is now time to turn our attention to what happens after the wrong of stealing occurs. More specifically, imagine that sometime after Fred’s and Roger’s respective acts of stealing, both ask their respective victims for forgiveness. Let me begin with Roger and Syd’s case, since it offers the most straightforward conclusion. As stated, eirenéism supports the claim that Roger is morally obligated to do something to help Syd free himself from his dependence on heroin, and if stealing Syd’s heroin is his best option, then Roger is morally justified in stealing the heroin. More precisely, it is not the act of stealing that is morally permissible; it is Roger’s making available to Syd a life free from heroin that is morally permissible, if not obligatory. At first, Syd might be angry with Roger, and consider what he did unforgivable, but when Syd has a chance to sober up he will (hopefully) be thankful that Roger did what he had to do to see that he was able to flourish, though if Syd fails to stay sober he might remain resentful. Nevertheless, since Roger’s act was morally permissible, there is no need to ask for forgiveness since no wrong was done. As an act of kindness, Roger might ask for forgiveness to ensure there are no hurt feelings between them, but such a case does not qualify as forgiveness. Therefore, the talk of an obligation to forgive or the unforgivable is irrelevant. However, we might, in

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fact, go so far as to say that Syd ought to ask Roger for forgiveness for putting him in a situation where he had to steal. The case of Fred and Barney offers a different conclusion. Fred’s act of stealing, when Barney has just enough food to survive, was determined to be immoral. The question, then, is: Is Barney obligated to forgive, and in what circumstance might he be obligated? Just to be clear, what one has a right to is not an object; one has a right to some state or condition. Fred has a right to the state of having bread, but not the object that is Barney’s bread. Forgiveness, too, should not be confused as an object to which one has a right. It is true that forgiveness might be represented by an object; I might give the person who wronged me a token to remind him of his wrongdoing and/or my forgiveness, but the token is not forgiveness—it is merely a representation of my forgiveness. So, if Fred has a right to forgiveness, then he has a right to the state or condition of forgiveness that exists between him and Barney. Fred’s repentance makes forgiveness a life-good—it is a necessary good that contributes to his life’s flourishing. The act of repentance illustrates a change in Fred’s mind-set: he realizes what he did was wrong, he separates himself from the action, he renounces it, and he desires to have some sort of reconciliation between him and Barney. If Fred does not repent, then he does not think he has done anything wrong; so, Fred does not need forgiveness. The wrongdoer’s need for forgiveness only exists in relation to the recognition and repentance of said wrongdoing. By repenting, Fred makes forgiveness a life-good that can only be granted by Barney. The issue, then, becomes whether or not Barney is morally obligated to forgive. Eirenéism maintains that Barney is morally required to forgive a repentant Fred because he is the only one in a legitimate position to create the state of forgiveness to which Fred has a right. (For simplicity’s sake, I will refer to the “state of forgiveness” as forgiveness.) Just as in the case where Barney has more-than-enough bread and is obligated to make available the bread to Fred, Barney is obligated to make forgiveness available to Fred. This conclusion, however, might be too hasty, for two reasons. First, Barney-with-more-than-enough bread (Barney-1) surely perceives that he has been wronged by Fred’s theft, even though eirenéism suggests he has not, as long as Fred asked for some bread before resorting to theft. Regardless of the truth of Barney-1’s perception, the relationship between Fred and Barney-1 has been damaged. The trust that once existed between the two no longer exists. Even if Fred apologizes for a perceived wrong, and Barney-1 apologizes for withholding food, the ability to flourish as friends has been damaged; and even though eirenéism would suggest they need to repair their relationship in order to flourish, they might not have the desire to do so. They might just go their separate ways and see each other as unforgivable. Eirenéism, however, would suggest they work on repairing their relationship and work on making more compassionate decisions in the future.

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The role of forgiveness is to repair, or to heal the damages that result from Fred’s actions and Barney-1’s inaction. This does not make them unforgivable. They simply refuse to engage in the process of forgiveness. Second, in regard to Barney-1 withholding food, eirenéism would say that the ethical thing for Fred to do is to forgive Barney-1 for withholding and putting him in a position where he needed to take Barney-1’s bread. The wrong committed was the result of Barney-1 failing to accurately discern what is morally required of him by eirenéism: he failed to take into account Fred’s right to having bread made available to him and failed to provide it. Eirenéism maintains that the moral thing for Fred to do is to forgive and for both of them to work harder at making better ethical decisions that lead to their combined flourishing. The situation changes when we consider the case of Barney with only sufficient food for survival—call him Barney-2. Let us imagine two possible consequences that result from Fred’s theft: 1) Fred’s theft causes extreme hunger but no one dies; and 2) Fred’s theft causes extreme hunger that leads to the death of Barney’s wife. In the first result, assuming Barney-2 acts as an eirenist should (while considering his own needs, he considers the needs of those who he is in a relationship with), then he has not wronged Fred by withholding food, because Barney has a right to his basic life-goods. Fred is the only one committing a wrong by stealing the bread to which Barney-2 has a right. In the aftermath of this theft, if Fred repents, thereby making forgiveness a life-good, then Barney-2 is obligated to forgive. Assuming Fred’s repentance is genuine, even though in real life there is no way of knowing for certain, Barney-2 is obligated to forgive Fred. Fred has stolen Barney-2’s bread and damaged their friendship, which damages all parties’ ability to flourish. Since Barney-2 has proven himself to be a good eirenist in this case, by compassionately considering Fred’s needs when obtaining bread, Barney-2’s thought process will be the same when considering Fred’s need of forgiveness. The consideration of one’s own weaknesses and vulnerabilities undercuts the notion that Fred’s actions are somehow unforgivable, for we all recognize our ability to do wrong. From a compassionate standpoint, Barney-2 can recognize the need for food, the desperation of needing to feed one’s family, and the desire to flourish as a family and community. Because of this, Barney-2 can imagine doing what Fred did, what it must feel like to regret, and what it is like to need forgiveness. If Fred makes forgiveness a life-good, something needed for his flourishing, eirenéism maintains that for Barney-2 to withhold forgiveness would be morally similar to him withholding making extra bread available. Barney-2 has the power and ability to forgive, and once Fred repents and asks for forgiveness, Barney-2 is obligated to forgive. 12 The biggest issue with what I just said is the claim that Barney-2 has the “power” and “ability” to forgive, and case 2 illuminates this issue nicely.

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For case 2 of Fred’s theft (where Barney—call him Barney-3—has just enough bread, and Fred’s theft causes Barney-3’s wife to die), Fred must apologize for both stealing bread and damaging their relationship and for causing the death of his wife. 13 In this case we are still assuming Barney-3 is a good eirenist: he is able to imagine the need for food, the pain that Fred must be feeling because of his wrongdoing, and his need for forgiveness. The problem for Barney-3 is that he might lack the ability to imagine causing the death of a friend’s wife, which then might cause him to think Fred unforgivable. Of course, Fred’s response could be that he had no idea that he would cause the wife’s death, but such an excuse will not withstand scrutiny. Barney-3 might respond: “Fred, you knew that we were struggling to survive on the bread that we had, and that starvation can easily lead to death; and because I knew exactly how much bread my family needed to survive, for I would have given you any extra if I had had it, you should have known—or at least considered the possibility—that the lack of bread could have deadly consequences.” Whether or not Barney-3 is right, eirenéism still suggests that he has an obligation to forgive, if he is able to make forgiveness available. Just like the bread: if Barney-3 were able to give away some of his bread, then he would be obligated to give it to Fred; if Barney-3 were able to forgive, then he would be obligated to forgive Fred. Herein lies the issue: with the devastation of starving, having a friend steal from you, and most importantly, having a friend cause your spouse’s death, it is easy to imagine that Barney-3 lacks the power/ability to forgive. In such a case, we might say, at most, Fred is conditionally unforgivable. If eirenéism does not require Barney-3 to give of bread that he is incapable of giving, eirenéism cannot require Barney-3 to forgive when he lacks the ability to forgive. Yet, because eirenéism still maintains that there is an obligation to forgive, as seen in the rules of application, eirenéism calls on Barney-3 to work toward providing the life-goods to which oneself and others have a right. So, Barney-3 is allowed to diminish Fred’s (and his own) flourishing temporarily, but should seek to have the ability to forgive; thereby, making Fred forgivable. From examining stealing we see how eirenéism’s obligation to forgive plays out in everyday cases, how to avoid the repugnancy of the repugnant implication, and how to address claims relating to the unforgivable. In cases when acts of wrongdoing cause deep psychological/emotional pain that results in the one wronged being incapable of forgiving, the obligation to forgive must be explained as an obligation to seek forgiveness. Forgiveness is morally similar to all other life-goods, if we have the power to make forgiveness available, then we are obligated to make it available; if not, we are obligated to work toward making it available.

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BODILY VIOLATIONS: RAPE AND TORTURE I have never been the victim of rape and can only imagine the terror, turmoil, and damage associated with such an intimate violation. So instead of inventing fictional case studies grounded in my ignorance, I will rely on a multitude of real-life sources to make suggestions about what occurs during and what should occur after instances of rape. And though I do not wish to suggest rape and torture are the same thing, I will sometimes discuss instances of torture as similar, yet distinct, violations of one’s body. Discussing both in relation to one another provides a framework to more adequately address the complexities of bodily violation in regard to forgiveness. What is more, to save some time and to limit the number of cases, I will focus as much as possible on cases where victims’ power and ability to forgive is in doubt. Rape is one of the most horrific and disturbing wrongs that can be committed against another person. It takes something deeply intimate and pleasurable, and it turns it into a form of pain and torture. It shocks and destroys persons, families, and communities, and it illustrates the limits to which humans can disrespect and harm fellow humans. During wartime, and other extreme living conditions, sex becomes a tool used by those with power to dominate and to get what they desire from their victims. In the Second World War, mothers were forced to have sex with German soldiers, Nazi guards, and other powerful men (and sometimes women) in order to provide food, shelter, and a means for their children’s escape. 14 Other sources from the Second World War show that privileged male prisoners made young girls, and those who appeared to be “plump” their “pleasure toys,” and there are even accounts of a mother witnessing her daughter being violated by dogs. 15 Other wars are no different. During the Bosnian war of the mid-nineties, rape rooms were set up across the former Yugoslavia, so military personnel (both official and unofficial) could have a steady supply of fresh young women. The rape rooms were full of adolescents, teens, and adults, and the victims were raped, strangled, tortured (both physically and mentally), shot, put in piles, and burned. 16 Martha Minow notes that an estimated 20,000 Muslim women were raped by Serbian men during this war, and as a result of these rapes, the international court in The Hague recognized rape as a weapon and crime against humanity for the first time. She also points out that the Bosnian war was not unique in its attack against women: Japan’s Imperial army had approximately 200,000 “comfort women” (i.e., sex slaves) during the Second World War. 17 Of course, war is not the only impetus for rape. There are several places around the world where rape, masked as prostitution, is a way of life. In places like India, the Philippines, and even America, the sex trade business, where young girls and women (and even boys) are regularly abducted and

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forced to work in brothels, is booming. Philip Yancey claims that there are nearly 8 million prostitutes in India alone, and that many of them are kidnapped at an early age and forced into the sex industry, which can include prostitution, pornography, and even as a medical treatment for HIV/AIDS— there is a myth in some areas that having sex with a virgin will cure HIV/ AIDS. Some girls are raped at the age of three to support the desires of male clients, while some girls are forced to have sex so they can eat, like one young girl who sold her virginity for the price of a McDonald’s Happy Meal, in order to keep from starving. 18 Rape is also common in local communities and popular culture. My former community of Knoxville, TN, is still dealing with the aftermath of the brutal rape, torture, and killing of two young adults, where both victims were repeatedly sodomized with random objects (e.g., the leg of a chair), hog-tied, and violated in many other ways. Knoxville, TN, is no different than many other cities throughout America. Rape is so prevalent that many cities have a specific police task force dedicated to sexual crimes. Such task forces have now become a part of American popular culture, as seen in the television show Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. The previous paragraphs describing aspects of rape should illustrate to the reader the seriousness of rape, and how complex and devastating it is. It destroys relationships, it destroys lives, and it can even destroy communities. As Jeffrie Murphy points out, rape is more than simply an assault on one’s body; it is also an assault one’s character and status as a human. 19 Rapists turn victims into objects—things to be experimented with, toyed with, and demeaned. These attacks can be motivated by lust for sex, but are more commonly the result of an inflated sense of power or a desire to attack and to disrespect a victim’s gender, sexual preference, social status, ethnicity, and/ or culture. Yet, in the aftermath of all of these sorts of cases there are tales of hope, reconciliation, and even forgiveness. Margaret Urban Walker provides a wonderful examination of moral wrongdoing and “the process of moving from the situation of loss and damage to a situation where some degree of stability in moral relations is regained.” 20 This is the process of moral repair, and necessary to moral repair is the process of forgiveness. Throughout her analysis Walker stresses the importance of working toward moral repair, and gives several examples of how surviving victims can achieve it. The process that Walker promotes is best summed up in this passage: Retributive responses are not the only way, and in isolation may not be a completely adequate way, for victims to achieve personal, but also public and socially shared, validation and vindication. When victims do seek prosecution and (they hope) retribution as the gold standard of accountability, they are willing to accept that impersonal, measured, and socially sanctioned act of

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retribution as vindication; they do not typically seek “wild justice,” mirroring the violent perpetrator’s behavior in trying to “pay back” what they have suffered themselves. For many victims of violence, this is more than an emotional fact; it is a moral position. In a stark statement of this position, Susan Brison, a survivor of sexual violence and attempted murder, says, “I have seen the face of a killer set on exterminating a fellow human being. It is not a face I want to see when I look in the mirror.” 21

Susan Brison’s refusal to become like her wrongdoer(s) is the beginning of moral repair, and it supports the compassionate approach promoted by eirenéism. Even when wronged, the eirenist views the wrongdoer as a “human being,” full of weaknesses, inconsistencies, and other common human failings, and the eirenist chooses to engage the wrongdoer as a being that has rights. Even in the toughest of cases, eirenéism prescribes working toward forgiveness. Imagine a case where a man sexually abuses his step-daughter, and because the mother at first refuses to believe her daughter, she refuses to report the incident to the police or to kick him out. What is more, in such cases, it is not uncommon for the mother to suggest that the daughter may have led him on, thereby, blaming her for the rape. Under what circumstances would an eirenist say the daughter is in the wrong for refusing to forgive her repentant step-father? First, an eirenist would say that she is not in a position to forgive, and therefore, she is not obligated to forgive. She is in an abusive relationship, with both her mother and step-father, and it appears that no one is willing to provide her with the life-goods to which she has a right. She would only be in a position to forgive if the threat of continued abuse were erased. One might claim that the step-father’s repentance implies a safe environment. However, if the step-father’s repentance is genuine, then he would be motivated to make significant steps to amend for his wrongdoing: e.g., moving out, telling the mother the truth, getting therapy, and turning himself in to authorities. If he is not willing to do most, if not all, of these repentant actions, his repentance does not bear the mark of being genuine, and so, no obligation to forgive exists. What is more, one can only legitimately repent for actions done in the past. The step-father cannot not repent and continue to abuse, or leave her in a position to fear the possibility of further abuse. So, without the actions associated with genuine repentance, no obligation exists. Second, eirenéism (like many other ethical theories) would suggest that she, if possible, seek refuge from her abusive relationships. This is neither easy, nor is it always possible, but removing oneself from an abusive relationship is always the first step toward recovering from the abusive relationship. Third, once in a place of general safety, eirenéism’s obligation to seek forgiveness requires that she seek first help for herself, in order for her to come to terms with the trauma she has endured. Some ethical theories might

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suggest she perform such an action, but eirenéism is the only ethic that I know of that obligates moral agents to actually seek out help for themselves in order to care for oneself and enhance one’s flourishing. Only from a place of general safety, safe from the continual strain of abuse (or threat of abuse), would eirenéism suggest she begin the long and difficult process of moving beyond the wrongs committed by her step-father and mother toward the moral repair of forgiveness. Eirenéism’s obligation to engage in the process of forgiveness is what negates the attitudes associated with acts and persons being unforgivable. In terms of forgiveness, a wrongdoer’s repentance makes forgiveness a life-good in his or her life. A non-repentant wrongdoer fails to recognize that she or he has committed a wrong, and, therefore, lacks the need for forgiveness. It is not until an individual recognizes that she or he wronged someone that she or he needs forgiveness. The act of repentance is the wrongdoer’s acknowledgment that what she or he did was wrong: it is an act of apology and a promise that she or he will never perform such an act again, and that such an act does not define the wrongdoer (or the victim). Different cases will require different considerations and actions, and in many cases of rape, this repentance might be elusive. For instance, the wrongdoer might be a sociopath, lack the mental ability to promise that such an act will never occur again, or the wrongdoer might never admit any wrongdoing, claiming that “she was asking for it . . . I could tell.” Of course, it is also easy to imagine a wrongdoer who recognizes that he has wronged someone, yet lacks the emotional capacities to feel remorse. In such a case, repentance might take the form of agreeing to continued therapy, joining a support group, and/or agreeing to a harsher punishment. Nevertheless, repentance is necessary for forgiveness to be a life-good for the wrongdoer because it is only through repentance that forgiveness becomes a necessary condition for one to flourish. Victims may still choose to forgive, regardless of the wrongdoer, but such forgiveness is not morally required. As shown in the cases above, rape (unlike stealing) will more than likely leave the victim in a state where she or he lacks the psychological (and sometimes physical) ability to forgive. Rape is an attack on one’s body and character, it devalues the person’s moral status, and it leaves deep emotional scars. So, in the aftermath of rape, it is likely that forgiveness will not be immediately possible for many victims. The damage done to the person’s psyche and/or the damaging effects that rape has on one’s relationships and family might be too great. Anyone can say, “I forgive you” as a speech-act or gesture, but the eirenic forgiveness I am referring to affects whether one’s life is lived well, whether one is at peace, and whether one is capable of flourishing. Eirenic forgiveness is not simply a speech-act or a gesture. The obligation to forgive is supposed to enhance the victim’s ability to peacefully flourishing, and as a result, obligates victims to seek the necessary means to

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self-flourish. Without securing one’s own needs, one will not be in a position to provide for the needs of others. Victims must be in a place of self-flourishing before they are able to genuinely move beyond the wrong perpetrated against themselves and forgive. Eirenéism has both consequentialist and non-consequentialist components, and as a result, the obligation to forgive allows for the possibility that one may have both an obligation to forgive based on non-consequentialist reasons, while at the same time explaining that there are times when one might not be capable of forgiving. In such cases, there is an obligation to work toward forgiveness, based on the positive consequences it produces. The non-consequentialist reasons for working toward forgiveness are based on the inherent worth of the wrongdoer. When a wrongdoer repents, she or he makes forgiveness a life-good that only the victim can supply, and because eirenéism maintains moral agents are obligated to provide other moral agents with what they have a right to, the victim has the moral obligation to forgive. When the wrongdoing is such that the victim is incapable of forgiving, the consequentialist reasons step in to provide an explanation of what one should do. The consequentialist reasons for forgiving will vary from case to case, but there are several goods that are common to all cases. As the previous quote from Walker shows, choosing to work toward moral repair helps victims move beyond the wrong committed against them and to grow as moral beings; no longer are they defined by the wrong committed against them. Working toward forgiveness can also help victims find new purposes in life; for instance, as victims’ advocates, as members of support groups, and community awareness organizers. The key thing to notice is that working toward forgiveness helps victims heal, it helps them let go of the anger and suffering that is a result of the wrongdoing, and it helps them avoid the deleterious effects of holding on to resentment and fostering hatred toward wrongdoers. The consequentialist reasons enhance the obligation to forgive because they allow one to take into account the mental, physical, and emotional state of the victim, instead of blindly obligating victims to forgive. Hence, when one is unable to forgive, the obligation to forgive becomes an obligation to work toward forgiveness. Because eirenéism allows for both consequentialist and non-consequentialist reasons to offer guidance in what one is morally required to do, it can justify making forgiveness an obligation while at the same time requiring one to work toward forgiveness when one lacks the ability to forgive. I am willing to admit that in some cases the possibility of never achieving the ability to forgive is possible. Some wrongdoings emphasize the limits of moral capability. 22 Nevertheless, eirenéism maintains that one ought to seek the good of oneself and others, which means we ought to work toward being capable of forgiving.

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As in the case of stealing, the case of rape makes it clear that eirenéism does not simply affirm obligations that moral agents must follow; it also provides powerful consequentialist reasons for the benefits of working toward providing others with the life-goods they are owed. Eirenéism is about achieving a specific type of peace—a relational peace where all moral agents enjoy the life-goods that they have a right to. When moral agents enjoy the life-goods they have a right to, they are able to flourish. The flourishing that eirenéism envisions is what sets it apart from other conceptions of the good life, and though it might sound awkward or strange to many contemporary readers, it suggests new ways to exist in the good life, as moral agents in compassionate relationships with other moral agents, working toward the flourishing of everyone. GENOCIDE AND MASS ATROCITIES Rape provides a difficult moral landscape in which to discuss the moral obligations of victims after a wrongdoing, and the issues of genocide and mass atrocities will also be difficult. In fact, many of the examples of rape that I looked at above occurred during some occurrence of mass atrocity and/ or genocide. On a personal note to the reader, I have dedicated most of my life to figuring out why and how humans can systematically demean and kill other humans, and I speak of such matters with the utmost respect and seriousness, especially when discussing any such obligation to forgive. 23 For this final subsection, I will limit my discussion to two specific cases: 1) Simon Wiesenthal’s account of a Nazi soldier asking for forgiveness; 24 and 2) South Africa’s use of a Truth and Reconciliation Commission to recover from decades of racism, hatred, and violence. The former being an account of an individual working toward forgiveness, the latter being an account of a society of individuals working toward forgiveness. Wiesenthal was a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp during the Second World War, and one day he was picked to work outside of the camp. The work detail took him to an old school that was converted into a reserve hospital. While conducting his work at the hospital, a nurse came and directed him to a dying man. Unaware and quite nervous, Wiesenthal reluctantly followed. When he arrived in the room, he quickly learned that he was there to hear the deathbed confession of a Nazi SS soldier named Karl. Karl’s deathbed confession began with the recounting of how his parents did not want him to join the SS and how he participated in the brutal murder of several Jewish families. The murders occurred while Karl and his unit were stationed at a Polish village. Several Jewish families were placed in a house, in which after being filled with several canisters of petrol, soldiers threw grenades. Like the rest of the soldiers, Karl participated in this massa-

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cre, but he was unprepared for the horrors he witnessed: screams of agony, people jumping from windows to avoid being burned alive, etc. What touched Karl the most was a small family. As he watched the family, he noticed a young boy who stood by a window, until he jumped to his death to avoid being burned alive. The memory of this horrific event, especially the young boy, haunted Karl, and eventually caused him to become immobilized during battle and mortally wounded. After finishing his confession, Karl said: I want to die in peace, and so I need . . . I know what I have told you is terrible. In the long nights while I have been waiting for death, time and time again I have longed to talk about it to a Jew and beg forgiveness [emphasis added] from him. Only I didn’t know whether there were any Jews left . . . I know that what I am asking is almost too much for you, but without your answer I cannot die in peace. 25

Wiesenthal handled Karl’s request for forgiveness like he handled the rest of his confession, with complete shock and silence. Wiesenthal, however, would never forget this event. He returned to camp that night, torn about what he did (listen) and what he should have done (not listen, condemn, forgive?). These questions would haunt him the rest of his life. He sought guidance from his fellow prisoners, who gave conflicting answers, he visited Karl’s mother many years later but could not bring himself to say anything, and he eventually recounted his story in the book The Sunflower, with the hope of gaining insights from others. Before discussing whether Wiesenthal should forgive, I must discuss a serious problem that is familiar to individual responses to genocide and mass atrocities. Genocide and mass atrocities are usually considered crimes against humanity: widespread and systematic attacks targeting a particular race, ethnicity, gender, or other human characteristic. Crimes against humanity are crimes against groups of people, and they usually involve the rape, murder, torture, and extermination of the hated group. As mentioned previously, however, groups cannot forgive. Only individuals can forgive. The closest a group can come to “forgiveness” is through some act of apology via a political party or social organization. It is true that a group of individuals, as some sort of social entity or political group, can all agree to forgive, but even in such a situation, the individuals are the ones doing the forgiving; they are only using the group to show solidarity. Karl was directly responsible for killing several Jewish families in a Polish village. Karl never directly physically harmed Wiesenthal. However, Karl shares direct responsibility for the oppression of all Jewish, Gypsy, and other “undesirable” peoples throughout Europe because he accepted, participated, and supported the continuation of Nazi ideology and practices. Just as with the case of Karl and Wiesenthal, during genocide and mass atrocities,

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often the direct victims of a wrongdoer’s actions either do not survive or are incapable of identifying their particular wrongdoers. Nevertheless, the nature of genocide and mass atrocities shows that an individual person’s beliefs and actions wrong entire groups of people. Hence, Wiesenthal might lack the moral ability to speak for the individual families that Karl killed, but he can speak for himself as a member of an ethnic community that was wronged. Such an ability gives Wiesenthal partial moral authority to forgive Karl, on a general level, for his beliefs and actions committed against his own ethnic group, but not on the level of actions carried out against specific people. Karl would not be forgiven completely, for he shares in the wronging of all Jews, and therefore, to have complete forgiveness he would need to seek forgiveness from more than just Wiesenthal. By accurately describing the moral relationship between Karl and Wiesenthal, I can now explain the corollary rights and obligations that exist between the two. As a victim of the Nazi’s genocidal policies, Wiesenthal (along with every other “undesirable”) has been wronged: he is wronged by those who accept Nazi ideology, participate in racist Nazi policies, and help the Nazi retain political and social power; he is wronged by individuals who have denied him the life-goods that he is entitled to, and he is wronged by those who unjustly subject him to punishment and imprisonment. Karl wrongs him by accepting, participating, and supporting Nazi ideology. Based on Wiesenthal’s own story, however, Karl repents for his wrongdoings, and thereby, makes forgiveness a life-good. As a result of Karl repentance, according to eirenéism, Wiesenthal has an obligation to forgive Karl. The question then becomes, does he have the ability to forgive? Wiesenthal’s actions during and after the confession suggest he lacks the ability to forgive. In fact, I suggest that his imprisonment and harsh conditions prevent him from being capable of forgiving until he is free and safe. As Terrence Des Pres shows in his incredibly insightful book The Survivor, survivors (prisoners who decide they want to live) are constantly under the threat of death and destruction, which creates uncertainty in every aspect of their lives. 26 Wiesenthal’s own actions suggest he is not in a position to forgive: he is dumbfounded, frightened, and when he returns to camp, perplexed by what he did and what he should have done. Even after the war, Wiesenthal seems incapable of forgiving. A short time after the war, still bothered by his meeting with Karl, Wiesenthal visits Karl’s mother. During his visit, Wiesenthal discovers that Karl did not lie to him; that for all intents and purposes, Karl was a “good” boy, but that he had allowed the Nazis to make him into a murderer. What is interesting is that during this meeting, Wiesenthal touches on several fundamental questions of eirenéism: “I saw her grief and I knew my own grief. Was sorrow one common link? Was it possible for grief to be an affinity?” 27 Even here, it is not clear that Wiesenthal had the ability to forgive. In fact, he responded to

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Karl’s mother much in the same way he responded to Karl: silence. This silence suggests he is still not in a position to forgive. Many years later, Wiesenthal’s ability to forgive remains uncertain. Though it is clear that he continued to engage and work toward having a sense of peace in regard to Karl’s request for forgiveness, there is no way to know for certain if he ever gained the capability to forgive. Nevertheless, Wiesenthal’s case gives readers a glimpse into the real-life difficulties of the desire to be compassionate and forgiving in the face of death and destruction. Wiesenthal struggled throughout his life with what he should do in terms of forgiving Karl. And even though it is uncertain whether or not he ever forgave Karl, Wiesenthal continued to engage himself and the world around him, in order to work toward some sort of resolution or reconciliation: he questioned his fellow inmates, he visited Karl’s mother, he wrote a book describing his meeting and asking what the reader would do, and he dedicated his life to seeking out and interviewing Nazi war criminals, and bringing them to justice. Such actions could be the actions of a vengeful and vindictive person, but based on Wiesenthal’s book Justice Not Vengeance: Recollections, where he discusses his motivation to find justice (not revenge) for those who perished during the Holocaust, I think evidence shows that they are neither. 28 The power of Wiesenthal’s account lies in its ability to illustrate the devastation of genocide, and how such events change one’s life. Instead of running away from the pain and devastation of the Holocaust, Wiesenthal dedicated his life to engaging the wrongs committed against him and others by seeking out truth and bringing wrongdoers to justice. I do not know if he ever forgave Karl, or any other Nazi criminal, but his actions demonstrate the actions of one who is seeking some sort of peace. In the face of horrific wrongdoing, most people lack the ability to forgive, so eirenéism does not prescribe forgiving in such a situation. Regardless, the obligation to forgive still exists. Instead of manifesting itself as a moral axiom that one ought to forgive, no matter what the consequences are, eirenéism maintains that the obligation to forgive manifests itself as a process of working toward forgiveness by engaging oneself, others, and the external world. An incredibly powerful example of such a process is illustrated by South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), which shows a society’s attempt to work toward reconciliation and forgiveness. As Martha Minow suggests, the TRC was post-apartheid South Africa’s attempt to confront the wrongs of the past while at the same time creating an inclusive sense of community valuing everyone. 29 The TRC was democratically launched in order to bring healing to South Africa after decades of inner turmoil, and had the power of granting amnesty, denying amnesty, cataloging stories from perpetrators and victims, and proposing methods of reparations for victims. Some of the TRC’s goals were to bring out facts that are difficult to bring out

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in trials, 30 promote personal and societal healing through truth-telling, 31 and to repair injustices through reparations. 32 The TRC began the process of healing by accepting applications both from individuals who participated in wrongdoings and from those who were wronged. The former had to apply in person and fully disclose all facts and/ or misdeeds that could be fairly characterized as having a political objective. The TRC, then, would review and make decisions, based on other accounts, about the fullness and truth of a perpetrator’s confession. After careful consideration, the TRC would decide whether or not the perpetrator’s actions deserved amnesty or whether the perpetrator should stand trial for his or her actions. Perpetrators who confessed had a greater chance of receiving amnesty, but amnesty was never guaranteed. Amnesty was conditional on what occurred and in what degree it occurred. In other words, harsher crimes, or attempts to hinder an investigation could lead to litigation. The stories and accounts of perpetrators were then made public, so victims could know and understand what actually happened to themselves and/or loved ones. One of the main purposes of the TRC was to create a database of true accounts that would give victims the ability to know what happened to their missing loved ones. What is more, the TRC recommended reparations for victims, which came in the form of the knowledge of what happened, symbolic gestures of erecting monuments and naming ceremonies, and even some minor monetary settlements. The stories from Apartheid South Africa are similar to many of the examples already given that deal with the systematic oppression, torture, and abuse of a people, yet they remain uniquely disturbing. Here is an account from a mother who witnessed her son being shot and killed in front of her eyes: I went flying out of this house. Now I am dazed. I ran, not thinking. My eyes are on the crowd that has gathered—Here is my son, my only child. It was just blood all over. My anguish was beyond anything I ever thought I could experience. They have finished him. I threw myself over him. I can feel the wetness of his blood—I felt his last breath leave him. He was my only child. 33

The vividness of this example shocks the reader, and makes one wonder how anyone could recover from such an event. This example is not unique. Archbishop Desmond Tutu describes several instances of rape, torture, and killing that are equally disturbing. For instance, in the Eastern Cape, it was quite common for people to simply “vanish.” One TRC application explains how a police group abducted a young man (who was innocent of any crime) by drugging him, and after torturing him they burned his body to ashes. What is most chilling about this account is that while the police burned the body, they decided to make use of the fire by having a barbeque. 34 Another example of

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the brutality of Apartheid is seen in the popular method of torturing and killing called the “necklace.” The “necklace” was an empty tire filled with petrol placed around a person’s neck, which then was set on fire and allowed to burn itself out. 35 Of course, some of the most socially demeaning crimes were justified by officials who claimed that they were necessary to protect “innocent women and children,” even though the ones they killed were innocent women and children. 36 From rape, torture, and killing, to letting little children starve and separating families because some members had lighter skin than others, Apartheid systematically oppressed people because a certain powerful group of people deemed people with certain skin colors different and inferior. Yet, in the face of all of these accounts there are just as many accounts of hope, reconciliation, and forgiveness that are just as baffling to many readers. One of the most famous and compelling stories comes from Nelson Mandela, who spent twenty-seven years in prison for trying to end the racist policies of Apartheid. For most of these years, he performed hard labor in a lime quarry. Upon his release, instead of seeking vengeance and promoting violence, he promoted reconciliation, with the hope of such reconciliation leading to forgiveness. Tutu provides several other wonderful examples, two of which I will briefly mention. The first example is of Dullah Omar, who was targeted for death under Apartheid. His would-be assassin unsuccessfully attempted to swap Omar’s heart medication with a type of poison. After Apartheid, Omar became the minister of justice who introduced in Parliament the act that created the TRC, and he diligently fought to see that the people who tried to kill him would have the right to seek amnesty under the rules of the TRC. 37 Second, during a wine tasting party in 1992, an armed wing of the Pan Africanist Congress, the Azanian People’s Liberation Army, attacked and killed several attendees. One of the attendees seriously hurt was Beth Savage, a woman who grew up in a home that supported anti-Apartheid policies and equal rights for all. In the aftermath of these attacks she required constant care to bathe, clothe, and feed herself. Her life was disrupted, her father and family were devastated, and Savage had to learn a new way of living confined to a wheelchair, with shrapnel imbedded in her body. At the TRC, when describing her experiences, she said: All in all, what I must say is, through the trauma of it all, I honestly feel richer. I think it’s been a really enriching experience for me and a growing curve, and I think it’s given me the ability to relate to other people who may be going through trauma. 38

And in regard to her perpetrator’s seeking amnesty, she said:

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Savage’s responses seem unimaginable, not because they are filled with hatred, but because they are filled with forgiveness. Savage’s position, which is representative of many tales from South Africa, illustrates the moral prescriptions of eirenéism. Eirenéism tells one to always consider oneself in relation to the other, to recognize the worth of the other, and to seek a state of affairs that promotes everyone’s flourishing. As Tutu sums up perfectly: the cycle of reprisal and counterreprisal that had characterized their national history had to be broken and that the only way to do this was to go beyond retributive justice to restorative justice, to move on to forgiveness, because without it there was no future. 40

The above examples serve to show what eirenéism calls moral agents to do when they are incapable of forgiving: they must work toward forgiveness. The examples also show that eirenic forgiveness matches up with several instances of real cases of wrongdoing and forgiveness. If eirenéism simply made forgiveness an obligation, it would be repugnant, but because it also maintains that forgiveness brings about the best consequences, it prescribes that we strive to forgive. The TRC worked with individuals who suffered mass atrocities in South Africa, and it served as a support structure to victims, including surviving family members, who lacked the ability to forgive, especially without knowing the truth about their loved ones. The commission helped individuals find this truth and work toward forgiveness. The TRC also makes clear the need for ethics to consider the issue of time, especially in regard to post-wrongdoing and forgiveness. In everyday occurrences of wrongdoing the most important component is the time period in which a victim recovers, strives to move on, and even longs to forgive. What eirenéism suggests, and what the above cases show is that the obligation to forgive is a process that begins after a wrongdoing occurs and continues until victims are able to forgive. Forgiveness is not an all-or-nothing event; rather it is a process that occurs over a period of time. Though far from perfect, the TRC demonstrates what eirenéism suggests is a basic feature of the good life. When one is wronged, the natural tendency of some might be to resent or to lash out with vengeance. In fact, as Peter French makes clear in his book The Virtues of Vengeance, a moderate form of vengeance (as a type of retributive justice) is a virtuous character trait for humans. Eirenéism maintains, even though such retributive responses might occur, if one is capable of forgiving, then one ought to forgive. However, because an eirenic obligation considers what produces the best conse-

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quences, one’s capabilities, and other contextual features, one is allowed to seek/work toward carrying out the obligation. The obligation to forgive is designed to help heal victims and wrongdoers and repair relationships, and prevents us from labeling acts and wrongdoers “unforgivable.” Just as South Africa continues to grow and flourish in the shadow of Apartheid, and continues to meet new challenges as it seeks reconciliation, the good life described by eirenéism includes similar challenges and flourishings. A RIGHT TO VENGEANCE Based on the previous examination, we see that eirenéism does not support the concept of an unforgivable action or wrongdoer. What is left now is to discuss the role of vengeance within eirenéism. Eirenéism is fundamentally a rights-based ethic of justice, and like all other rights theories, it has a difficult time grounding an ethic of forgiveness. Justice requires agents get what they deserve, yet forgiveness asks that wrongdoers receive less than they deserve. As a counter to forgiveness, vengeance requires wrongdoers get what they deserve, which implies vengeance is more just than forgiveness. Do victims have a right to vengeance, and if so, can a victim’s right to vengeance override a wrongdoer’s right to forgiveness? To settle this issue, we will need to examine the relatively small amount of literature devoted to defending vengeance. The most prominent work on the subject comes from Peter French, who develops an account of virtuous vengeance grounded in John Locke’s argument for the right to punish. In what I take to be the most thorough (and provocative) account of revenge, The Virtues of Vengeance, French maintains that morality is in danger of becoming mere words in the face of evil, and that in order to adequately respond to evil actions and wrongdoings, the moral acceptability of revenge must be reconsidered. 41 He, then, sets out to develop and identify features of what he calls “virtuous vengeance,” grounded in the following two ethical claims: 1) victims have a right to punish; and 2) vengeance is justified due to the merit of its moral worth. 42 To sum, justice implies that wrongful acts require a reaction, and if we are to avoid the devolution of justice into mere words, it requires a hostile reaction. In order to justify what he calls “Negative Retributivism,” French argues that a victim’s hostile response to a wrongdoer (i.e., revenge) is morally right when: 1) “No one other than a person found to be guilty of a crime may be punished for it”; and 2) “Punishment must not be more than a degree commensurate with the nature of the crime and the culpability of the criminal.” 43 Let us consider French’s use of John Locke’s right to punish wrongdoers. For Locke, in the state of nature (prior to the state of society) victims have the right to be executers of the law, and as a result when one is wronged, one

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has the right to punish, in order to both deter others from committing such a crime and to prevent the criminal from wronging others. 44 To illustrate, Locke says, “[E]ach transgression may be punished to that degree, and with so much severity, as will suffice to make it an ill bargain to the offender, give him cause to repent, and terrify others from doing the like.” 45 The key thing to note here is that victims only gain the right to punish to a certain degree and severity. Executioners of justice must use calm and reason to soberly judge what is required from a wrongdoer for a particular transgression. Because of the difficulties of calmly and reasonably inflicting retribution, for Locke, reason will lead individuals to transfer these rights to the state. Once transferred to the state, the right of individuals is to seek compensation and reparation for wrongdoing. French maintains that virtuous vengeance is grounded in the natural rights of individuals to punish, and should not be conflated with the weaker social right to seek compensation and reparation, because doing so threatens to unacceptably weaken morality. 46 The problem with grounding vengeance in Locke’s right to punish is that for the most part humans no longer exist in a state of nature. As members of society, the right to seek punishment is the right to ensure that the state is seeking/carrying out said punishment. So, instead of carrying out acts of revenge against other individuals, we are to be engaged in socio-political activities that ensure our legal system properly punishes. As a result, French’s argument for justifying a right to revenge might work, but only in regard to individuals living in a state of nature. Such a right fails to gain traction within the social confines of an organized society/government. One might respond by arguing that on a global level we are in a state of nature, but to make such an argument work, one would have to ignore the global agreements and treaties that contradict such a claim. Another response one could argue is that retributive justice is merely a veiled version of vengeance. I do not wish to get bogged down with arguing whether or not retributive justice should be understood as revenge, but I do think it is a mistake to conflate the two concepts. Louis Pojman accurately points out the difference between the two: Vengeance signifies inflicting harm on the offender out of anger because of what he has done. Retribution is the rationally supported theory that the criminal deserves a punishment fitting to the gravity of his crime. . . . [R]etributivism is not based on hatred for the criminal (though a feeling of vengeance may accompany the punishment). Retributivism is the theory that the criminal deserves to be punished and deserves to be punished in proportion to the gravity of his or her crime—whether or not the victim or anyone else desires it. We may all deeply regret having to carry out the punishment, but consider it warranted. 47

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For Pojman, vengeance is based on the emotional outburst of anger and hatred, while retributive justice’s ethos is to mete out proper punishments according to the law, not one’s personal feelings. Let us assume, however, that revenge is the same as retributive punishment. For this to be true, then, revenge is only morally just in cases where the revenge “fits” the wrong committed. Like retributive justice, vengeful punishment for wrongdoing can be proportionally greater, in order to deter the wrongdoer and others from again committing such a wrong, but it cannot be too great. As noted previously, French incorporates the proportionality requirement into virtuous vengeance. Herein lies the problem with equating justice with vengeance. As pointed out by Pojman, because anger and hatred are a part of revenge, victims struggle with meeting the requirement of proportionality. French’s own favorite examples come from fictional characters, like Achilles in the Iliad, Clint Eastwood and John Wayne from American westerns, and Charles Bronson from the movie series Death Wish. As French examines these and other fictional characters, he is careful to illustrate the rationality of each character’s respective set of choices. So, as one engages French, it is easy to find oneself convinced that avengers are motivated by a rational sense of creating a just state of affairs by providing a hostile response to wrongdoers. One problem is that French’s focus on fictional characters causes him to idealize the notion of a “virtuous avenger”—that virtuous avengers would only harm individuals worthy of their wrath, while at the same time protecting the lives of innocent people. He downplays the irrationality of avengers, even in the cases he examines. He says, “[T]he only ones in danger of a disruption in their lives from virtuous avengers are those who commit offenses, and they deserve to lose their sense of well-being.” 48 Not only does this grant too much rationality to avengers, but it also ignores innocent people who find themselves caught in between avengers and their targets, or who are unjustly targeted by an avenger. For instance, according to French’s interpretation of Homer’s Iliad, Achilles’ choice to remove his armies and stay in his tent at the battle of Troy is the rational response to Agamemnon stealing his love interest, thereby disrespecting Achilles’ honor. Next, Achilles sends his friend into battle, disguised as Achilles, and when his friend is killed by Hector, Achilles becomes indignant and decides he must have revenge against Hector. Finally, Achilles chooses to fight and kill Hector, even though he is aware that doing so will eventually cost him his own life. The reader is supposed to accept Achilles’ actions as those of a rational, virtuous avenger seeking justice. To me, however, they appear to be the actions of an irrational and immature person. He seems to lack the rational ability to see how he is the cause of much of his own problems, and because he “feels” that his honor is slighted, he causes the death of thousands of fellow countrymen, the death of his friend, and eventually his own death. I

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see no way of saying that allowing thousands of people to die is justly proportionate to having one’s honor insulted, and this is what one must do, if one is to accept Achilles as a virtuous avenger. Instead of thinking of vengeance as a matter of justice, Theodore Benditt suggests that there is a prominent type of revenge focused on claiming or regaining one’s social status. 49 In “Revenge,” Benditt details how classical literature is full of examples, from Shakespeare to Jane Austin, of individuals seeking revenge as a result of being slighted by someone else. They are motivated by an emotional desire to be treated with the respect they think they deserve. They fail to have proper appraisal respect for themselves, and so are motivated by something other than justice. Achilles’ actions match this non-justice-based type of revenge much better than the justice-based account, discussed so far. If true, then the Achilles case fails to be a contender against forgiveness, because forgiveness produces more justice (by default) than non-justice-based vengeance. The problem that arises is that being guided by emotional hatred, in the case of revenge, prevents one from adequately arriving at and carrying out appropriate responses to wrongdoings. If a stranger steals from me, is it appropriate to cut off his hand, beat him up, or steal something of comparable value from the thief? If a friend steals from me, does she deserve a harsher punishment, since she is my friend and we are supposed to trust each other? If someone rapes my sister, do I get to rape the wrongdoer’s sister? One might be able to rationally arrive at proportionally adequate responses for these questions, but if I am the one wronged, and I get to decide the punishment, then I am skeptical about my rationally objective ability to carry out a proportionate punishment; and if I am not proportional with my punishment, then I have become a wrongdoer—I am no longer virtuous. Of course, I am assuming, as does eirenéism, that each individual has a certain level of inherent worth, which constrains what I can justifiably do to another individual. If I do not carry out my vengeful actions proportionally, I myself become a wrongdoer. So, to avoid becoming a wrongdoer, I must limit my response, and because I live in a society that is in charge of punishing, limiting my response means I let my society carry out a measured punishment. French, however, rejects the notion of inherent moral worth. Instead, he suggests that worth is determined by merit. Moral agents gain and lose merit based on their actions. As a result, people who commit wrongs lose the protection that moral worth provides them. If someone murders my nephew, then his merit-based worth drops to such a level that allows me to carry out my vengeful desires. An implication of French’s position is that proportionality appears to be subjective to the individual. If I deem that the murderer’s worth is so incredibly low after killing my nephew that he deserves being dipped in hot oil and then slowly left to die, my response appears to be proportionally appropriate. Others who have their nephews

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killed, on the other hand, might conclude that forced counseling for the wrongdoer is appropriate. If one accepts the idea of merit-based worth, then both seem to be correct. To avoid these sorts of implications, French suggests accepting some sort of procedural approach where communities set their own set of proportional punishments; in the sense that “the victims of vengeance are regulated through the moral dialogue of the community.” 50 This line of reasoning leads to a set of difficult problems for French. First, the notion of merit-based worth undercuts the concept of natural rights, which is at odds with his utilization of Locke’s concept of rights. Rights are egalitarian in nature, and do not seem capable of supporting the notion that a person’s worth is dependent on merit. It is conceptually possible to ground a conception of rights where individuals retain a minimum level or worth regardless of their actions, but can be treated in various ways depending on their contingent merit-based level of worth. However, since there are no apparent limits to what individuals or society might determine as appropriate vengeance (all liars are to be dipped in oil and burned!), even the notion of a minimum level of inviolable worth is not available to French. Worth is relative to the individual or society determining the punishment. This leads to the second problem, for French’s right to punish is a third-party right that results from entering society. When individuals are part of a society they give up their right to punish, in order to let society regulate punishment. Therefore, victims in society have no right to seek revenge, outside of the right to promote the state’s prosecution of wrongdoers. French’s “right to seek vengeance,” then, seems to lose its explanatory force, since it only occurs outside of society in the state of nature; and outside of society vengeance will fail to be proportionally just. French recognizes this tension, and he suggests a system where individuals, if unsatisfied with the state’s punishment, could seek further personal punishment, or more precisely, be morally justified in seeking further punishment. However, this suggestion returns us to the previous problem of the difficulty of victims determining proportional punishment. What is the appropriate punishment for rape, stealing, or genocide? French wrestles with the case of rape, in order to show how virtuous vengeance might be applied to particular cases. He suggests death for the rapist is probably appropriate, and if society deems it appropriate, then killing rapists would be virtuous. 51 The only thing that saves French’s position from full-blown subjectivism is he claims that appropriate punishment should be a societal determination. Leaving aside the problems of cultural relativism suggested by this claim, basing the role of determining what is appropriate punishment returns us to the previous problem where society has the right to punish, not individuals. What the above shows is that the notion of a right to seek revenge has a set of conceptual problems. The only right to revenge that seems to exist is the right to seek revenge as the right to see that society punishes wrongdoers

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for their actions. If this is correct, then this right does not compete with one’s obligation to forgive. In fact, instead of being inconsistent with eirenéism, the notion of a right to punish fits nicely with eirenéism. Eirenéism supports the concept of retributive punishment by supporting the notion that wrongdoers deserve to be punished. When a person wrongs me, I can claim my permission-right of retribution, forgiveness, or some intermediary. As discussed in the previous section, forgiveness requires that we be able to separate the wrongdoer from the deed, which allows us to let go of the negative feelings toward the wrongdoer, yet retain negative feelings toward the deed. The wrongness of the deed cannot change, and to forget or ignore it would be to not take seriously the wrongness of the deed—it runs the risk of condoning wrongdoing. If I can let go of the negative feelings toward the wrongdoer, then I can seek what Wolterstorff calls reprobative punishment (punishment “to condemn what was done and to send a message of non-condonation),” 52 which accepts the repentance of the wrongdoer, and seeks an ameliorated punishment, different from what the law says the wrongdoer deserves. Forgiveness, when accompanied by reprobative punishment, is perfectly consistent with justice—it punishes the wrong, which justice requires, and it demonstrates forgiveness by taking into account the wrongdoer’s repentance and by lessening the punishment. As long as we understand French’s account of revenge as the right to see one’s wrongdoer punished by society, the virtue of vengeance is consistent with eirenéism. However, if one sees revenge as the carrying out of a selfdetermined punishment, then it is inconsistent with eirenéism, a notion of (inherent and natural) rights, and the notion of a well-ordered society. If we assume, for the sake of argument, that victims have the right to carry out selfdetermined acts of revenge, then this right would be in direct competition with one’s obligation to forgive. Victims could justifiably refuse to carry out their obligation to forgive, claiming that their right to seek revenge trumps any obligations one might have to wrongdoers. In the next several paragraphs, I will use Jessica Wolfendale’s argument for why we should reject the notion of an unforgivable act in order to illustrate that even if there is a right to seek revenge (in the sense just described), the obligation to seek forgiveness will override an individual’s right to seek revenge. Wolfendale provides an argument that illustrates the importance of rejecting the notion of an unforgivable wrong. She argues that to view wrongdoers as not worthy of any sort of engagement, reconciliation, or forgiveness is to adopt aspects of the wrongdoer’s moral outlook, and doing so makes us more prone to commit the same types of wrongdoing when given the chance. In regard to this, Wolfendale says, “Believing someone to be unforgivable can result in the adoption of aspects of the wrongdoer’s moral outlook and so forgiveness is worth attempting for reasons unconnected to the wrongdoer’s attitudes: reasons that arise from the kinds of moral agents we strive to be.” 53

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Wolfendale’s argument is based on the notion that persons have inherent worth, and because of this worth, persons deserve to be treated with a basic level of respect. When persons commit wrongs, carried in their actions is the message that they see victims as not being worthy of the respect they deserve, even though they might not consciously be aware of it. For Wolfendale, and most Kantian frameworks, failing to respect the autonomy of others implies that persons do not see the others as being moral equals capable of the same rational thought and autonomy. If wrongdoers truly believed their victims were morally equal, then they would treat them as such. On this notion, then, wrongdoers have a moral outlook that devalues certain other individuals. Wrongs dehumanize victims by objectifying them and by carrying the message that they are not valuable (or as valuable) as the wrongdoer. Based on this understanding of wrongdoing, Wolfendale makes two arguments: a deontological argument and a consequentialist argument. The deontological argument claims that when a victim considers a wrongdoer as unforgivable, the victim takes on the same moral outlook of the wrongdoer: the victim perceives the wrongdoer as lacking inherent worth, and so, the wrongdoer can be mistreated without violating any sort of ethical requirements. This deontological component of Wolfendale’s argument leads to the same conclusion that eirenéism reached in previous chapters: the inherent moral worth of others implies that they are deserving of a certain level of respect, regardless of their actions. The consequentialist argument, maintains that by taking on the same moral outlook as the wrongdoer, victims are more likely to become wrongdoers themselves. For Wolfendale, when one takes on a mind-set that devalues another person, one puts herself in a moral position to not only wrong that person, but also other “similar” persons. This second argument returns us to the problem discussed above concerning the proportionality of vengeance. Cases of revenge are rarely (if ever) as rational and calculated as French makes them out to be, and that often avengers lash out at wrongdoers, people associated with wrongdoers (whether social, religious, racially, or ethnically), and others who “get in the way.” 54 For instance, a person who is wronged by a person from a certain race or ethnicity will often condemn all people from that race or ethnicity. By viewing a person, or groups of persons, as morally inferior, we cognitively set ourselves up to wrong anyone from that group, whether or not we are ever personally wronged. Laurence Thomas illustrates this with the example of a lady who reacted to his presence by hiding her purse, simply because she was robbed by some young African American children when she was younger. 55 What I see from Thomas’s example is that the lady took on the moral outlook of her wrongdoers, who viewed her as lacking value, and as a result, she saw all people of African descent as lacking a certain amount of moral value—in this case, of trustworthiness.

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Wolfendale maintains that “forgiveness involves a change of attitude toward the perpetrator so that we no longer consider them to be irredeemable.” 56 Taking on the moral outlook of the wrongdoer does not necessarily lead to wrongdoing, but it does make one prone to wrong anyone who might be irrationally (and, possibly rationally) tied to the wrongdoer. For instance, if I am wronged by someone from a specific ethnic group that used to be in charge of the social/political system of my community, then if I take on their moral outlook, which says some ethnic groups are less worthy of respect than others, I will be inclined to mistreat their ethnic group or individuals from that group, if I am ever in a position of power. Granted, I might refuse to act on my resentment. However, by mirroring the same moral outlook as my wrongdoer, I set myself up to wrong those who are part of the group that I devalue. By taking on the moral outlook of the wrongdoer, we promote (either directly or indirectly) a moral landscape of wrongdoing by passing on the message that some people lack inherent worth that deserves respect. Wolfendale’s account of the psychological dangers of accepting the notion that there are unforgivable acts offers strong support for why we should accept eirenéism’s conclusion concerning the obligation to forgive. It suggests that we should respect the inherent worth of wrongdoers, even though it can be difficult, and that we should promote a moral landscape that disapproves of wrongdoing. To do these two things, eirenéism claims that we should forgive repentant wrongdoers, if we are capable of doing so, and that if we are not capable, we should work toward forgiving. In both instances, eirenéism suggests that we make the attitudinal change that forgiveness offers, and that the resentment and revenge that is the result of seeing a wrongdoer as unforgivable should be rejected. The latter inhibits the peaceful flourishing that the former promotes. Wolfendale’s account also shows that victims are better off forgiving (or seeking forgiveness), regardless of the wrongdoer. Just as forgiveness is a good in the life of the wrongdoer, forgiveness is a good in the life of the victim too. Whether or not the wrongdoer is repentant, alive, or even known, forgiveness promotes a positive mental and moral outlook that promotes the moral health of oneself and society, especially when society supports the process of forgiveness. So, eirenéism would support Wolfendale’s argument that regardless of the wrongdoer, victims should take on a forgiving attitude. Of course, French’s and Wolfendale’s respective accounts are at odds, because Wolfendale relies on a notion of inherent moral worth, while French relies on the notion of merit-based worth, but this difference illustrates nicely how eirenéism’s rights-based approach supports an active engagement with forgiveness. The concept of inherent worth does not support the sort of right to seek revenge that French suggests. Wolfendale’s account suggests that the outcome of being forgiving are generally more positive than being vengeful; while (as seen above) French had a difficult time explaining how a well-

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ordered society based on principles of revenge would exist. One might have the desire to seek revenge, or have overwhelming feelings of vengeance, but Wolfendale’s argument provides strong justification for why we should reject such feelings, in order to promote forgiveness. 57 There are many wonderful examples of individuals engaging in what Wolfendale and eirenéism suggest, which I detail in “A Sketch of the Moral Responsibility to Engage Oppressors.” 58 Adam Michnik, 59 Miroslav Volf, 60 Václav Havel 61 each offer compelling stories of their lives and struggles to survive their respective oppressive societies. A missing feature that I have so far not discussed, but is demonstrated in their work, and will appear in the next chapter, is the role and responsibility of third-parties (families, communities, governments, etc.) to support victims in the aftermath of wrongdoing. We all encounter existential pressures that exist within our social and political world, pressures that are exacerbated by wrongdoing, and can only be fully healed with the help of others. 62 Iris Young 63 and Slavenka Drakulić 64 provide arguments and examples for our interconnectivity and responsibility for what we do, what we support and do not support, and the groups and ideals to which we identify. As Young notes, “All agents who contribute by their actions to the structural processes that produce injustice have responsibilities to work to remedy these injustices,” and by implication, they are responsible for the structural processes that produce justice. 65 After instances of wrongdoing, as eirenéism suggests, victims should not forget that they exist within a set of social connections that produce obligations. Granted, the responsibility to carry out these obligations might be severely limited as a result of the wrongdoing, but they exist nonetheless. Eirenéism maintains that victims are obligated to promote their own mental well-being by coming to terms with the wrong committed and working to move beyond. This obligation does not mean that victims do not retain the right to be angry and to grieve, but eirenéism maintains that, at some point, they must strive to move beyond (and cease to be defined by) the wrong, if they are to flourish. Once this obligation is applied to the shared responsibility 66 of all socially connected individuals, we see that all moral agents have the responsibility to promote the well-being of society. Since individuals comprise society, each individual’s well-being is significant to society’s well-being as a whole. Therefore, victims engaging wrongdoers, wrongdoers repenting, and society fostering the process of victim-wrongdoer reconciliation are all part of the shared responsibility of society, since doing so brings about the well-being of society. It promotes a society that confronts and learns from wrongdoing and is willing to address and strive to avoid the conditions that allow for, or foster, wrongdoing. Individuals that comprise society, then, have their own sets of responsibilities that must be discharged. Each individual must recognize and ac-

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knowledge their responsibility for allowing wrongdoings to occur within their society. Granted, the level to which each individual is capable and empowered to act will vary depending on several factors, but they are responsible nonetheless. They must assume responsibility to promote societal conditions that do not allow for wrongdoings, and they must promote conditions where engagement between victims and wrongdoers can safely occur. If we are to a achieve a healthy society after cases of wrongdoings, and help victims, then the individual members of that society must be involved in the process of forgiving too. CONCLUDING REMARKS To begin, engaging one’s wrongdoer by either working toward forgiveness or actually forgiving is a complex and difficult process, and in some cases, it is not clear that the forgiveness one works toward is ever achieved. To be clear, in such cases where one is incapable of forgiving, and is required to work toward forgiveness, there is no requirement to actually achieve the capacity to forgive. One is only morally required to work toward forgiveness, not achieve it, but if (or when) one is capable of forgiving, one ought to forgive. It is perfectly morally acceptable, however, for one to never achieve the capacity to forgive— as long as one continues to work toward being able to forgive. Just as the example of Simon Wiesenthal showed how one can work toward forgiveness, yet possibly never achieve the ability to forgive, what is important is that the victim engage the wrong(s) and wrongdoer(s) in the hope of one day achieving peace in regard to the wrong(s) and wrongdoer(s). In this chapter I presented several arguments to undercut the concept of the unforgivable. I detailed several theoretical, actual, and practical arguments for why the concept of unforgivable, whether an act or person, should be abandoned. The only conceptual ground for holding on to the concept of the unforgivable lies in the notion of a “conditionally unforgivable” act or wrongdoer, and in a desire not to condone wrongs. Eirenéism’s obligation to seek forgiveness, with its focus on self-respect, repentance, and justice, illustrates how victims can work toward the forgiveness of any wrong, and as a result, no wrong is inherently unforgivable. After examining several detailed cases, I responded to the criticism that vengeance is more just than forgiveness, and showed that individuals should always seek forgiveness over vengeance. Forgiveness is a life-good in the lives of victims and wrongdoers, which has social effects relating to peace and flourishing. Seeking forgiveness brings about the most justice for everyone, even if forgiveness never actually occurs. In other words, it contributes to the peace (i.e., the just state of affairs) of all moral beings, and this peace is the goal of eirenéism. For this reason, vengeance should be rejected in favor

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of seeking the peaceful flourishing of forgiveness. The next chapter will pick up where this one leaves off, with a discussion of the social features of forgiveness and reconciliation. NOTES 1. Kathryn Norlock, The Moral Psychology of Forgiveness (London and New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2017), 4. To ensure Norlock is not misunderstood, she is concerned with groups of individuals engaged in state-authorized violence, but I suggest her observation also holds true for interpersonal wrongdoing. 2. Charles Griswold, Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 192. 3. Glen Pettigrove, “Hume on Forgiveness and the Unforgivable,” Utilitas 19, no. 4 (2007): 454–455. 4. MacAlester Bell, “Forgiving Someone for Who They Are (and Not Just What They’ve Done),” Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 77 (2008): 657. 5. Jeffrie G. Murphy, Punishment and The Moral Emotions: Essays in Law, Morality, and Religion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 214. 6. Eve Garrard, “Forgiveness and the Holocaust,” in Moral Philosophy and the Holocaust, edited by Eve Garrard and Geoffrey Scarre (England: Ashgate, 2003), 242. 7. Trudy Govier, “Forgiveness and the unforgivable,” American Philosophical Quarterly 36, no.1 (1999): 71. 8. To be honest, I am not sure this condition matters, but for the sake of argument, I will assume it for this case. 9. The best procedure for ranking that occurs to me is one based on closeness of relations. The family is closer than Fred, and Barney has made himself the provider of the family. Due to this role, the family would come before Fred. Again, this is assuming that there is no possible way for the family to do without some bread, in order to provide for Fred. 10. It would be a different story, if Barney had the ability to buy or obtain more bread with little or no costs to himself. Barney, then, would be morally required to buy or obtain bread for Fred. Some might find this repugnant, but this is a fundamental feature of eirenéism. As discussed in Chapters 1 and 2, compassion requires that one act based on the needs of others, due to their inherent worth. 11. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice: Rights and Wrongs (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008), 225. 12. The reader should not confuse forgiveness with any sort of affirmative reconciliation. Reconciliation can mean something as simple as two people functioning separately in a community, or it can mean something more complex (what I call “affirmative reconciliation”) as two people working together in a community. The former is akin to a spouse cheating on his wife and causing a divorce; yet they decide to live and work together in the same community without any hostilities toward one another. The latter is akin to a spouse cheating on his wife, deciding to stay married, and moving beyond the betrayal. Forgiveness can be the impetus for both types of reconciliation. 13. In the case where Barney-1 has plenty of bread, it is reasonable to assume that Barney-1 can always get more; so the possibility of losing a loved one as a result of the theft is unlikely. 14. Marion A. Kaplan, Between Dignity and Despair: Jewish Life in Nazi Germany (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 72 and 208. 15. Carol Rittner and John K. Roth (eds.), Different Voices: Women and the Holocaust (St. Paul, MN: Paragon House, 1993), 112 and 129. 16. Slavenka Drakulić, S. A Novel about the Balkans, trans. Marko Ivić (New York: Penguin Books, 1999). 17. Martha Minow, Between Vengeance and Forgiveness: Facing History after Genocide and Mass Violence, foreword by Judge Richard J. Goldstone (Boston: Beacon Press, 1998), 6 and 105.

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18. Philip Yancey, What Good Is God: In Search of a Faith that Matters (New York: Faith Words, 2010), 72, 73, and 152. 19. Jeffrie G. Murphy, Getting Even: Forgiveness and Its Limits (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). 20. Margaret Urban Walker, Moral Repair: Reconstructing Moral Relationships after Wrongdoing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 6. 21. Ibid., 16. 22. Below, I will discuss the case of Simon Wiesenthal, who offers a case of someone who dedicated his life to seeking justice for the Holocaust. His life and writing suggest that he was never able to forgive, though he worked toward it by seeking justice. For him, like others, the Holocaust was the moral limit. 23. Though I think eirenéism supports an obligation to forgive, when standing in the “Tower of Life” at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, it is hard to look at the families, friends, and innocent people’s lives destroyed in the Holocaust and imagine suggesting to their survivors that they have an obligation to forgive. However, morality sometimes calls us to do things we do not want to do, and I think forgiveness is one of those things. 24. Simon Wiesenthal, The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness, revised and expanded edition (New York: Schocken Books, 1997; originally published in 1969). 25. Ibid., 54. 26. Terrence Des Pres, The Survivor: An Anatomy of Life in the Death Camps (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1976). 27. Wiesenthal, 92. 28. Simon Wiesenthal, Justice Not Vengeance: Recollections, trans. Ewald Osers (New York: Grove Weidenfeld, 1989). 29. Minow, 52. 30. Ibid., 59. 31. Ibid., 61. 32. Ibid., 91. 33. Julian Edelstein, Truth and Lies: Stories from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, introduction by Michael Ignatieff and an essay by Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela (New York: New Press, 2002), 29. 34. Desmond Mpilo Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness (New York: Doubleday, 1999), 130. 35. Ibid., 18. 36. Ibid., 127. 37. Ibid., 44. 38. Ibid., 146–147. 39. Ibid., 147. 40. Ibid., 260. 41. Peter French, The Virtues of Vengeance (Kansas: University Press of Kansas, 2001). 42. He lists a total of 15 conceptual elements that reflect how Western culture understands revenge, see French, The Virtues of Vengeance, 33–34. 43. Ibid., 222. 44. John Locke, Two Treatises of Civil Government: Second Treatise of Government, Book II, 1689, Chapter 2; and French, 33. 45. Locke, Book II, Chapter 2, Paragraph 12. 46. French, 34. 47. Louis Pojman, “A Defense of the Death Penalty,” in Contemporary Debates in Applied Ethics, edited by Andrew Cohen and Christopher Wellman (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2008), 109. 48. French, 163. 49. Theodore Benditt, “Revenge,” The Philosophical Forum 38, no. 4 (2007): 358. 50. Ibid., 229. 51. French, 223–226. 52. Ibid., 201.

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53. Jessica Wolfendale, “The Hardened Heart: The Moral Dangers of Not Forgiving,” Journal of Social Philosophy 36, no. 2 (2005): 344. 54. For a great discussion of “lashing out” see: Jonathan Glover, Humanity: A Moral History of the Twentieth Century (New Haven and London: Yale Nota Bene, Yale University Press, 1999). 55. Laurence M. Thomas, “Statistical Badness,” Journal of Social Philosophy 23, no. 1 (March 1992): 30–41. 56. Wolfendale, 359. 57. Wolfendale’s conclusion is also supported by Margaret Holmgren. See: Margaret Holmgren, Forgiveness and Retribution: Responding to Wrongdoing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 58. Court Lewis, “A Sketch of the Moral Responsibility to Engage Oppressors,” in Communities of Peace: Confronting Injustice and Creating Justice (Value Inquire Book Series), edited by Danielle Poe (Amsterdam and New York: Rodopi, 2011). 59. Adam Michnik, Letters from Freedom: Post-Cold War Realities and Perspectives (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 261. 60. Miroslav Volf, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2006). 61. Václav Havel, “The Power of the Powerless,” in Open Letters: Selected Writings, 1965–1990, trans. and ed. Paul Wilson (New York: Vintage Books, 1992). 62. Another example of this comes from, Laura Blumenfeld, Revenge: A Story of Hope (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2002). In her book, she details her account of trying to seek revenge on the man who shot her father. Blumenfeld, however, ends up realizing that the shooter is a human, like everyone else, engaged in a complex web of social, religious, and political interactions, and she befriends his family and, in the end, defends him in court. 63. Iris M. Young, “Responsibility and Global Justice: A Social Connection Model,” Social Philosophy & Policy 23, no. 1 (2006): 102–130. 64. Slavenka Drakulić, Café Europa: Life after Communism (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1996), 136–137. 65. Young, 102–103. 66. The term “shared responsibility” comes from: Larry May, Shared Responsibility (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1992).

Chapter Four

Religious Obligations to Forgive

I have intentionally avoided wandering into the theistic arguments regarding forgiveness, in order to address them in the current chapter. As mentioned in the introduction, theists (or those amenable to theistic arguments) may have a conceptual advantage over non-theists, since most theistic frameworks incorporate arguments for why humans are unique, special, and/or related to God or the Divine in such a way that grounds what I have so far referred to as lifegoods (i.e., rights). Of course, the conceptual advantage only exists if one holds a particular set of theological beliefs, because theological beliefs vary greatly between religions and within particular religious frameworks, and these varying beliefs might hinder certain theological justifications regarding rights and forgiveness. Nevertheless, the purpose of the current chapter is to discuss the concept of a theological obligation to forgive versus the eirenic justification provided in Chapter 2. There are several ways one might approach such a discussion, but I will begin with Nicholas Wolterstorff’s own Christian-based argument for a third-party obligation to forgive, since he is the first to formulate eirenéism and to raise questions regarding forgiveness’s status within the theory. For Wolterstorff, the implication that victims are obligated to forgive after a wrongdoer has repented is unacceptable, so he argues that repentance is not a standard obligation-producing event. Repentance might produce a need for forgiveness, but such a need is a non-obligation-producing life-good. Instead of the standard two-party relationship with victim and wrongdoer, Wolterstorff argues that a third-party (namely, God) commands victims to forgive, and as a result, victims are obligated to God (not wrongdoers) to forgive, thereby, negating the repugnancy of an obligation to forgive. Wolterstorff’s discussion of God’s role within eirenéism, and how God relates to humans, is valuable. God serves to ground human worth, thereby, creat87

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ing a strong theistic justification for human rights, and provides an explanation for determining what is an actual human need/right and what is not. Even if the reader is amenable to a theistic grounding for human rights, I will argue that we should reject the notion that forgiveness is somehow unique and different than other obligation-generating life-goods. In fact, I will suggest that making forgiveness a different sort of life-good at best unnecessarily complicates eirenéism, and at worst, requires substantial revision to eirenéism and the principle of correlatives. Therefore, we should reject any attempt to reformulate forgiveness’s status as a life-good and stick with the conclusion seen in Chapter 2 for how to avoid the repugnant implication. Of course, Wolterstorff’s argument is not the only Christian argument available, nor is Christianity the only sort of theological framework to ground a conception of forgiveness or an obligation to forgive. In order to defend eirenéism’s two-party forgiveness from other theological attempts to reframe forgiveness as strictly a religious obligation, I will examine several other Christian and non-Christian frameworks of forgiveness. Such an examination will be limited in scope, but will show that none of the frameworks require a rejection of eirenéism’s two-party forgiveness. Religious conceptions tend to conceptualize forgiveness as an ideal—something that is beneficial, transformative, and as a means to deep enlightenment, but not something that results solely from a command or other religious prescription, nor does it conflict with the ethical prescriptions of eirenéism. WOLTERSTORFF’S THIRD-PARTY OBLIGATION TO FORGIVE Based on the previously presented understanding of eirenéism, when a moral agent has a life-good, other moral agents are required to make said life-good available. After instances of wrongdoing, if a wrongdoer repents, then he or she has made forgiveness a life-good. The principle of correlatives, then, implies that if a person can make the life-good of the wrongdoer available, then he or she is obligated to do so. As a reminder, the principle of correlatives states: If Y belongs to the sort of entity that can have rights, then X has an obligation toward Y to do or refrain from doing A if and only if Y has a right against X to X’s doing or refraining from doing A.

The only person who can make the life-good of forgiveness available to the wrongdoer is the victim: hence, the victim can be the only one obligated to forgive. Wolterstorff attempts to avoid this conclusion by explaining forgiveness as a non-obligation-producing life-good, which he argues can be achieved by making forgiveness a third-party obligation.

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In Justice in Love, Wolterstorff maintains on the one hand that repentance is a necessary condition of forgiveness, yet denies that repentance obligates victims in any way, saying, “I find this claim implausible, that repentance places on the victim the obligation to forgive, that not to forgive would be to wrong the wrongdoer, making the wrongdoer now the victim and the victim the wrongdoer” (emphasis in the original). 1 Wolterstorff’s fear is that if repentance makes forgiveness a life-good for the wrongdoer, then the wrongdoer gains a right to be forgiven, and such a moral state of affairs gives the wrongdoer unacceptable power and authority over the victim. To avoid this moral state of affairs, Wolterstorff claims that repentance is a non-obligation-generating act: The situation seems to me rather that the wrongdoer offers the victim his repentance in the hope that the victim will regard him in a new moral light, treat him as having a new moral identity. The victim should then respond to this offer, or try to respond, by offering forgiveness in return. But the “should” here is not the should of moral obligation but the “should” of this being the best thing to do. It’s an act of supererogatory grace on the part of the victim to forgive [emphasis in the original]. 2

In other words, even though forgiveness is a good in the life of the repentant wrongdoer, it is a good that does not produce a corollary obligation for the victim. Instead, when a wrongdoer repents, forgiveness becomes the “best thing to do” for everyone involved—it produces the most good. So, the “should” of forgiveness is a utilitarian “should” of producing the most good (a preferencesatisfaction), not a non-consequentialist “should” (or “ought”) that would obligate agents to forgive regardless of the resulting good consequences. One way in which to understand Wolterstorff’s conception of forgiveness is to view it as a sort of Kantian imperfect duty. Immanuel Kant distinguishes between a duty of right and of virtue, the former being related to the categorical imperative that obligates actions, and the latter being related to imperfect duties of ethical self-improvement. Forgiveness would be an imperfect duty, where its fulfilment in appropriate circumstances would be meritorious, and its non-fulfilment a “lack of moral strength (defectus moralis).” 3 Instead of forgiveness being a moral obligation in the face of repentance, it becomes a means of bettering oneself, as a way of living a more complete moral life. To quote two valuable passages from Kant: [M]an’s duty to himself regarding his natural perfection is only a wide and imperfect duty; for while it does contain a law for the maxim of actions, it determines nothing about the kind and extent of actions themselves but allows a latitude for free choice. 4

And:

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Chapter Four It is man’s duty to strive for this perfection, but not to reach it (in this life), and his compliance with this duty can, accordingly, consist only in continual progress. Hence, while this duty is indeed narrow and imperfect with regard to its object (the Idea that one should make it one’s end to realize), with regard to the subject it is only a wide and imperfect duty to himself. 5

Framing forgiveness in terms of a Kantian imperfect duty is the orthodox view throughout much of the forgiveness literature, whether or not Kant is explicitly mentioned. However, forgiveness-as-an-imperfect duty is too weak for both eirenéism and Wolterstorff. Even though eirenéism takes into account and incorporates ends-based calculations of what is best for victims (and wrongdoers), eirenic forgiveness is more closely related to the concept of a categorical imperative, since victims are obligated to act in regard to wrongdoers’ repentance. Wolterstorff, too, suggests that forgiveness is stronger than a mere duty of virtue (self-improvement). To wit, Wolterstorff argues that forgiveness is an obligation not to the wrongdoer, but to a third-party who commands victims to forgive their wrongdoers. When a third-party commands an individual to forgive, one’s obligation is not an obligation to the wrongdoer, but rather, an obligation to the third-party; thereby making forgiveness, from the point of view of the wrongdoer, supererogatory, since it is something they are not owed. So, instead of being a two-party obligation between moral agent and moral recipient, forgiveness is an obligation between a moral agent and a third-party with a certain amount of authority, which for Wolterstorff is God. He explains this obligation by saying, “When someone validly commands me to forgive someone who has wronged me, it is not the malefactor but the one issuing the command who has a right against me to my forgiving the malefactor; correspondingly, my duty to forgive is not a duty toward the malefactor but a duty toward the one who validly commanded me to forgive.” 6 The moral legitimacy of the one commanding prevents such a duty from being repugnant, since unlike the wrongdoer, the one commanding deserves to be followed and knows what is best for all parties involved. If Wolterstorff is correct, then forgiveness is a special type of life-good that results from carrying out a command from a third-party and not the result of the moral status of, or any action carried out by the wrongdoer. As a result, there is no conceptual room to say the victim somehow wrongs the perpetrator (thereby becoming a wrongdoer) by not respecting the repentance of the perpetrator. Of course, one does not need to be a theist to claim that forgiveness is a third-party obligation, as long as one is willing to recognize that obligations result from the commands of certain third-party authority figures. For instance, children are often obligated to forgive because their parents/teachers command them. One need only visit a local playground to see a child wronged by another child, and then observe an authority figure command the

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wrongdoer to say, “I’m sorry, please forgive me.” Granted, the child’s apology is an emotional response to the adult, and might not be a deeply held moral conviction, but due to the nature of the relationship, in the case imagined, the child’s willingness to carry out the command of the adult results from their love and respect of the adult, not simply because they fear reprisal. Of course, their apology might merely be the result of fear, therefore, possibly negating the moral specter of the action. Such a possibility does not negate the fact that acts of apology and forgiveness have a moral component no matter the motives of the individuals. The question then becomes whether basing such moral actions on fear or ignorance somehow taints the actions themselves. Whether God, a parent, or some other authority figure, commands rely on the sort of relationship where one party is in a position of power, and the other party in a position of subservience. If such a power relationship is legitimate, meaning the power of the one party is deserved and accepted by the other party, then the agreement between the two parties is the locus of the moral relationship. The example of the child is more difficult, because a child does not freely enter the relationship, but assuming the parent/guardian has the best interest of the child in mind, then care on the part of the adult and trust (and sometimes fear) on the part of the child ground the moral relationship. Counterexamples are surely plentiful, but for my purposes, I only need to show that there are third-party commands that generate obligations. Obligation-generating commands also occur for adults, like when one is commanded by an employer, community, psychologist, spouse, or some other authority figure to forgive. Typically the scenario plays out differently than the playground, but the moral features of both scenarios are mostly the same. The main difference for adult cases is that the commands are usually presented as “suggestions,” or as a reminder of what should happen: e.g., “You know you were wrong, darling, so go and apologize,” or “I suggest you apologize to Suzie for what you did, and ask for forgiveness, if you enjoy your position at this company; and Suzie, I suggest you accept, forgive, and move beyond what occurred.” I could ignore my spouse’s wisdom, but due to our relationship, her “command” contains a moral weight that I should respect. I could refuse to apologize, and Suzie could refuse to forgive (we are both autonomous persons), but as employees of the company, our boss has a right over us to do what she commands, as long as it is within the limits of reasonable/moral/legal actions. Though it seems safe to assume God’s commands would have more power/authority for theists than commands from non-theistic third-parties, and no power/authority for atheists, third-party obligations have a conceptual grounding to support their existence. 7 Of course, it is entirely possible that the notion of an obligation-generating command simply gains no conceptual traction for the reader, and for my overall project, that is fine. I only mention such an obligation in order to provide support for

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the notion of a third-party obligation similar to Wolterstorff’s suggestion. The sort of eirenic forgiveness defended in Chapter 2 has no need for such a concept, but I do hope to provide the strongest argument possible in defense of Wolterstorff’s third-party obligation. So, for the sake of argument, in this chapter I will assume the existence of third-party commands that produce obligations. With the assumption that third-party obligations exist, let us reformulate the principle of correlatives to include forgiveness as a two-party obligation, in order to see exactly what changes when it is reformulated as a third-party obligation: If Y belongs to the sort of entity that can have rights, then X has an obligation toward Y to forgive if and only if Y has a right against X to X’s forgiveness.

Y is the sort of entity that has rights because Y has inherent moral worth. A result of this inherent worth is that Y has a right to his life- and historygoods. X is also an entity with inherent worth and has a right to her life- and history-goods. Because rights are normative social relations, X and Y have a set of corollary rights and obligations. The “if and only if ” means that for every right held by X, Y is obligated to respect that right; and for every obligation X has toward Y, Y has a corollary right. So, if Y wrongs X, and forgiveness is a life-good for Y, then based on Y’s inherent worth, Y has a right to be forgiven. If one wishes to avoid this moral state of affairs, as Wolterstorff does, then one must be able to formulate the third-party obligation to forgive in such a way that remains consistent with eirenéism and the principle of correlatives. If we cannot provide a reformulation that is consistent with eirenéism, then we must either reject the reformulation or attempt to reformulate eirenéism. The closest Wolterstorff comes to explaining why forgiveness is different is when he talks of the duty to forgive as the paradigm case of duty of charity—“a duty to treat someone a certain way when that person does not have a right against one to one’s treating him that way.” 8 If such duties of charity were obligation-generating, Wolterstorff fears the principle of correlatives would need to be rejected. It would need to be rejected because such duties imply there are obligations that have no corollary rights, which contradicts the principle of correlatives. I will discuss duties of charity below, but for now I will attempt to reformulate the principle of correlatives in such a way that captures the moral relationship between God (the one who commands duties of charity) and two other moral agents, who I will call David and Roger: R1: God is an entity that has rights over David and Roger, to have them follow God’s commands. David has an obligation toward Roger to forgive Roger only

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if third-party God has a right against David (via a command) to David’s forgiving Roger.

One of the difficulties of reformulating the principle of correlatives so as to include a third party is that it introduces an agent who must be morally distinct from the other agents, for there is no reason to introduce a third party if all parties are morally equal. The extent to which God is superior to humans and can claim rights against humans is debatable, just as it is debatable to what extent humans can claim rights against God. Due to the nature of God, at least how God is classically conceived as a transcendent being, I think most would agree that such a God has the power to make claim rights against humans. However, fewer would say humans have the corollary status to make claims against God, even though such a concept is not that foreign to many scriptures. If one consults the scriptures of the Abrahamic traditions, for instance, God regularly agrees to contracts and covenants that bind God to carry out (or refrain from doing) certain actions. Though it is unnecessary to solve such issues here, it does illustrate a conceptual tension that results from incorporating a third party into the principle of correlatives. The authority of God to command must be captured, and once such a concept is introduced, the need to ground the rights of humans seems to become unnecessary; for any right of humans would ultimately be contingent on the commands of God. R1 captures God’s authority while diminishing the moral status of humans, and as a result, it is too weak to ground the rich theory of rights suggested by eirenéism. Accepting R1 amounts to rejecting the rightsbearing power of individuals as individuals-with-inherent-moral-worth. Stated more precisely, R1 suggests that God has a special status to command David and Roger. Both David and Roger are entities that can have rights, but since R1 must show that not all life-goods create rights, there must be conceptual room for saying Roger does not have whatever it takes to ground a right to the life-good of forgiveness. As a result, the bi-conditional of the principle of correlatives is changed to a conditional clause. Changing to a conditional clause allows us to utilize a sort of divine command theory, where David’s obligation to forgive Roger is solely dependent on God’s command to forgive. Even though God (and David) might value the moral worth of Roger, Roger’s moral worth is irrelevant in regard to David’s obligation. The obligation is simply the result of a command, not because of anything on the part of Roger. Furthermore, the “only if” of R1 allows for an interpretation that devalues or excludes Roger’s moral status. It does preserve the moral status and relationship between God and David, but since Roger has no direct relational status illustrated in the consequent of R1, and is only the sort of entity that can have rights, there is nothing stipulating that Roger is, in fact, an entity with rights. Roger only has moral value inasmuch as God recognizes Roger’s

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value. We might assume Roger’s value is illustrated by God’s command, but there is nothing necessitating this value. God might simply think that David’s act of forgiveness is valuable in itself for David, as a type of training for David’s participation with other beings with rights. Such an ambiguity not only unnecessarily complicates the principle of correlatives, since it can be reformulated in such a way to exclude/include similar moral entities who are generally recognized as having rights, but it also violates eirenéism’s fundamental claim that such similar entities (i.e., humans) share the same inherent worth that exists apart from God’s (or anyone else’s) command. We might be able to salvage R1 by adding and refining terms, but it is easier to reject it and instead focus on R2, since R2 avoids such ambiguities. R2: God is an entity that has rights over Paul and John, to have them follow God’s commands in regard to what God determines is a duty of charity (e.g., forgiveness). For duties of charity: Paul has an obligation to forgive John if and only if God has a right against Paul to Paul’s forgiving John. For all other life-goods: if Paul, and John belong to the sort of entities that can have rights, then Paul has an obligation toward John to do or refrain from doing A if and only if John has a right against Paul to Paul’s doing or refraining from doing A.

The same problems with introducing a third party remain, but R2 avoids the shortcomings of R1 by incorporating duties of charity and by retaining the biconditional, which results in a retention of the inherent moral of Paul and John apart from any command (or lack thereof). For R2 to be acceptable, however, a convincing argument for why God chooses some life-goods to be non-obligating duties of charity (specifically, forgiveness) over other obligating life-goods must be provided. Wolterstorff does not formulate a precise argument for why some obligations are third-party obligations and others two-party, but based on several other components of his writings, one can piece together an argument showing how forgiveness might be a religious-based duty of charity. The following is my attempt to create such an argument. To start, the inclusion of a third party in R2 does not disrupt the correlation between Paul and John—there still exists a set of corollary rights and obligations based on the inherent worth of each moral agent. The third party merely widens the moral scope of the social web to include God: Paul and God are in a particular relationship (Paul accepts God as [and/or God is] a legitimate authority) that allows God to make commands for which Paul is obligated to discharge. Only in regard to forgiveness (and other duties of charity) have things changed. Forgiveness in R2 makes Paul obligated to God to forgive, but not obligated to John. Hence, in light of R2, forgiveness must be something other than a “typical” life-good for John, since John’s need for it does not produce the same sorts of rights and obligations as other life-goods.

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If correct, R2 allows us to see how it might be considered a duty of charity. Implied by a “duty of charity” is the idea that I have an obligation to do something that is above and beyond what I am morally required to do, specifically in regard to the rights of others. For instance, if Jim is a wrongdoer who repents, he is not owed forgiveness, if forgiveness is a charitable act on the part of the victim, Tom. For Tom to forgive Jim is to go above and beyond what is morally required, because Jim has no right to be forgiven. In Wolterstorff’s third-party case, Tom can only be obligated to forgive Jim, if Tom is commanded to by God. Tom, then, is obligated to God to treat Jim better than Jim deserves to be treated, and as a result Jim’s inherent right plays no direct role in regard to his forgiveness. Stated differently, forgiveness is a charitable act in regard to the wrongdoer, but an obligatory act in regard to the third-party. As we will see, such commands are not arbitrary, for they promote the life-goods to which we have a right. To support the claim that God is responsible for creating and differentiating duties of charity from other life-goods, we can utilize two theological explanations: 1) life-goods are determined by God’s “divine desires”; and 2) the peace of shalom is based on God’s divine plan for the just ordering of society. In regard to the first, since individuals do not always desire what is in their best interests, even if they have sufficient information concerning what will lead to their life going well, life-goods (i.e., the actual needs of an individual) must be determined by something more objective than the perceived “needs” of an individual. Properly functioning, well-informed individuals simply do not consistently desire things that enhance their wellbeing. So, for Wolterstorff, “Rather than looking to the desires of the person whose well-being we are considering, we [should] look to the desires for that person of someone else who loves that person.” 9 To ensure the desires of this “someone else” are truly life-goods for the individual, and not merely just another set of perceived needs from another fallible creature, the life-goods must be the result of some infallible and knowledgeable entity perceiving and understanding an individual’s actual needs. For Wolterstorff, the only entity that could possibly meet this qualification is God. As a result, God’s divine knowledge of a person’s actual needs determines the life-goods of individuals. God, then, can determine when certain life-goods are non-obligation generating, and when also to make third-party commands to individuals, so that they can achieve the proper amount of flourishing in their lives by carrying out certain duties of charity. The second theological component concerns God’s plan and desire for a just ordering of society based on shalom, as detailed in Hebrew Scriptures. The Hebrew notion of peace is much different than what many contemporary people think of when they hear “peace”—as the lack of hostile actions, feelings, or other destructive forces. For the ancient Israelites, shalom occurs only when God’s justice is achieved. According to Wolterstorff’s under-

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standing of “God’s justice,” God created the world with justice in mind, and God desires to see his creatures enjoy the goods to which they have rights. God’s justice only occurs when individuals obtain these goods, or have them provided. For the theistic account of eirenéism, when I receive my divinely desired life- and history-goods I will flourish, I will want for nothing, and I will have achieved the peaceful flourishing of shalom. Of course, shalom is not merely about me as an individual achieving shalom; but rather, I must be engaged in the act of ensuring others achieve shalom too. All moral agents are required to foster the community of justice that God desires, and by loving others through justice (i.e., recognizing their worth and providing for their needs) agents carry out God’s justice. God’s vision of shalom is of a state of peace between all aspects of creation—humans, animals, and the environment. Shalom suggests that one must not only be free from strife and suffering, what is typically thought of as peace, but one must also “dwell” in the enjoyment of all of one’s relationships; only then will one truly flourish. To dwell in this enjoyment, Wolterstorff stresses the three following features: 1) delight in service to God—carrying out shalom (i.e., justice); 2) delight in human community—providing for others and being provided for; and 3) delight in our physical surroundings—caring for and taking pride in the development of God’s creation. 10 Combining God’s infallibility in knowing the life-goods of individual moral agents and the state of justice God envisions for creation provides the crucial explanation in regard to life-goods and duties of charity, like forgiveness. If God’s desires determine the life-goods of both victims and wrongdoers, then God knows that repentant wrongdoers need forgiveness to flourish, God also knows that the repentance of the wrongdoer should not place any unnecessary burdens on victims, who have already suffered enough. So, when a wrongdoer repents, God determines whether or not the repentance is genuine, and if genuine, God recognizes the need of the wrongdoer to be forgiven. God, however, refrains from making being forgiven a life-good, since doing so would obligate victims to forgive. God, in a way, stands between the victim and wrongdoer; protecting the victim from being obligated by the wrongdoer to forgive, and God refrains from taking over the act of forgiving, since individuals grow morally when engaged in the process of forgiveness. On the other hand, God desires that victims flourish, and God knows the importance of forgiving in their flourishing; so, forgiving is made a duty of charity for the victim. God understands that victims might be suffering in the aftermath of wrongdoing, and God desires only what is best for humans. As a result, God protects victims from the claim-right of wrongdoers’ need to be forgiven, but God also knows that the appropriate action of the victim is to forgive. So, out of love/justice/shalom, God commands victims to forgive repentant wrongdoers, since doing so leads to all parties’ flourishing.

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If God knows and wants what is best for humans, and humans can be mistaken about their own life-goods, then even if we do not always see how something like forgiveness enhances our own flourishing, we might still have an obligation to forgive. If we had God’s knowledge and understanding, then we would see how doing certain things, like forgiving, enhances our own peaceful flourishing. God sets being forgiven apart from other life-goods, as a non-obligating life-good, so as to prevent victims from being at the mercy of wrongdoers, in the sense that repentance forces victims to forgive—this would be to treat victims unjustly. The value of forgiveness, then, lies in the moral growth individuals achieve by having faith in God’s command. What is more, by having faith and following God’s commands we carry out God’s justice, and therefore, create shalom, which makes the obligation to forgive non-repugnant for the theist. Non-theists must depend on some other explanation, such as the eirenic one provided in Chapter 2, to avoid the repugnancy. This theistic argument provides a nice explanation for what grounds theistic-human-rights and for how forgiveness can be understood as a thirdparty obligation, different from other two-party obligations. To further justify forgiveness’s status as a theistic third-party obligation, let us think more deeply about rights. Not all rights are the same. For instance, natural rights are different from inherent natural rights. The former are supported by rightorder theorists and the latter by inherent-rights theorists. Right-order theorists are those concerned with providing an account of justice based on the correct ordering of society. For right-order theorists, justice occurs when society is correctly structured, meaning when the ordering of society is such that all parties’ rights are protected and provided, and it is the ordering of society that produces and confers rights and obligations. Right-order theorists wish to deny the existence of subjective rights that have not been conferred or generated by the actions of humans. They instead focus on the subjective obligations (or duties) that result from the structure of society, the reasoned duties of individuals, and/or commands from third-parties (e.g., legislators). Though they wish to avoid talk of natural rights, Wolterstorff shows that if one has a subjective obligation to do (or refrain from doing) A, then by extension, others gain the subjective natural right to have (or not have) A done. Wolterstorff says, “If you have a natural subjective obligation toward me to refrain from hitting me over the head, then surely I have a correlative subjective right against you to your refraining from hitting me over the head.” 11 Wolterstorff’s point is that a right-order theorist can make sense of the notion of natural rights without being committed to any set of claims regarding the inherent worth of humans or persons. As a result, within rights theory there is a tension between those who maintain that humans have inherent worth that grounds the existence of rights, and those who maintain rights are the result of society (or some other third-party). Inherent-rights theorists are concerned with the deeper structure of the moral universe. More

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precisely, they are concerned with showing that there are entities, like humans, that have a certain amount of worth that produces rights to certain goods. The inherent rights that one has are not conferred by anyone. They are the result of certain entities merely having sufficient worth. 12 From this discussion, we can infer two types of rights. Type one are the inherent natural rights that result from a person’s worth, and type two are the natural rights that arise from third-party commands and things such as contracts. When one signs a contract agreeing to do Z, one becomes obligated to do Z, based on the premise that the contract has authority. By extension, the other contractual parties gain the subjective right to have Z done because of the contract, not because of anything dealing with their inherent worth. These subjective rights are what Wolterstorff means by natural rights, and are based solely on the fact that others have third-party obligations that result from an agent’s accepting the commands of some third-party authority figure, not from the worth inherent to other moral agents. By making use of the notion of natural rights that result from the subjective obligations that result from the commands of third-parties, Wolterstorff appears to have the conceptual tools available to successfully explain forgiveness as a third-party obligation. It supports the account previously discussed, where John’s repentance motivates a command from God, for Paul to forgive John. John’s repentance still makes forgiveness a good in his life, forgiveness would be pleasurable for John, but it does not make forgiveness an inherent life-good. It is a natural good that results from the right ordering of society. Though this formulated explanation is consistent with eirenéism, it still lacks clear reasons for why forgiveness is necessarily the result of a thirdparty command and not merely the result of the wrongdoer’s inherent worth. The repugnant implication might serve as the reason for thinking of forgiveness in such a way, but with the repugnancy of the implication removed, the motivation for crafting a third-party obligation is also removed. What is more, by relying on natural rights to justify the goods associated with forgiveness, one must employ a much weaker set of rights than inherent natural rights. The natural rights that are the focus of right-order theorists exist as a result of a set of duties required by some agreement, and have nothing to do with the inherent worth of agents (at least not directly). As noted above, one of the main goals of Wolterstorff’s work on rights is to get us to move from the natural rights of right-order theorists to the stronger notion of inherent natural rights. So, making forgiveness a natural right seems to be a step backward, opening the door to say all rights are natural, not inherent. To see this, think of how accepting the notion of inherent natural rights based on the inherent worth of others implies two dimensions of morality: an agent-dimension and a recipient-dimension. These two dimensions are the groundwork on which to make sense of the principle of correlatives, since

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agents share the same fundamental moral status that produces rights and obligations. This principle suggests that all moral beings, both agents and recipients of particular moral actions, have both rights and obligations based on their inherent worth. The dual dimensions of eirenéism grounds the claim that as moral agents we deserve to have access to the life-goods that contribute to our flourishing—“[t]he states and events in a person’s life that are good for the person, combined with the actions and activities of that person that are good for him or her, together make up the whole of what is good for that person.” 13 These states, events, and activities are one’s life-goods, and they contribute to both the good for the person (i.e., they contribute to the pleasure of the person) and the good of the person (i.e., they contribute to the flourishing of the person, even though they are not always pleasurable). This dual feature of life-goods obligates moral agents to promote the flourishing of oneself and others, even when doing so does not seem to produce any pleasure, or in some instances is extremely difficult; and others are to do the same. Second, one need look no further than Wolterstorff’s own discussion of life-goods to see that forgiveness is best-understood as a life-good to which one has an inherent natural right. The most commonly mentioned life-goods are food, shelter, and water, but this is an extremely limited list of life-goods. Other life-goods are clean air, a safe place to live, and rewarding relationships. Since eirenéism is concerned with achieving a state of peaceful flourishing, eirenic life-goods must be determined both by one’s physical needs and one’s emotional/psychological needs, and the latter are determined by the natural preferables that are part of one’s life. These features are why compassion and the recognition of vulnerability are so important for eirenéism, and are the key features that separate it from other conceptions of the good life. Since natural preferables help determine life-goods, we should include in the list of life-goods our family, friends, emotional stability, and countless other features of life that are part of an individual’s natural preferables and, therefore, part of one’s flourishing. With the lack of a good justification for excluding forgiveness from the set of life-goods, reason tells us that when forgiveness is a need, it should be on the list of life-goods that are necessary for flourishing—for both the victim and the wrongdoer. As seen in the Chapter 2, by repenting, a person makes the claim that he no longer wishes to be seen as a wrongdoer, and he no longer wishes to be defined in terms of his wrongful act. Forgiveness, then, becomes a necessary component to move beyond his wrongdoing, and if a person is incapable of being forgiven (e.g., the victim dies), then he will be incapable of flourishing in regard to this aspect of his life. He might go on to flourish in all other ways, but without forgiveness for his particular wrongdoing, something necessary to this component of his flourishing will be forever absent. If I am correct, and forgiveness is

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necessary to achieve an eirenic state of peace, then forgiveness should be understood a basic life-good, like all other basic life-goods. Even though Wolterstorff explains forgiveness as a different sort of good, much of what he says matches the claim that forgiveness is like all other lifegoods. Here is a sampling of some of the things he says about forgiveness: forgiveness is an “intrinsic good in your life”; it is a good in the wrongdoer’s life “that I no longer hold against you what you did to me”; it is a good in the wrongdoer’s life “that I am no longer angry with you on that account”; that my “holding it against you would be an evil in your life”; that the wrongdoer’s “flourishing would be impaired”; that the “fully flourishing life does not contain” not being forgiving; that the “causal effects enhancing one’s wellbeing or that of the wrongdoer are not expected” 14; and that forgiveness is “an intrinsic good in the life of punisher and wrongdoer . . .” 15 These statements describing forgiveness suggest that not only is forgiveness a good that produces pleasure in the life of the wrongdoer, but that it is more importantly, a basic life-good, on par with all other life- and history-goods required for flourishing. Making forgiveness a third-party duty of charity makes eirenéism inconsistent or guilty of being unnecessarily complicated regarding forgiveness. Based on the above discussion, Wolterstorff’s attempt to describe forgiveness as a third-party obligation should be rejected. Forgiveness is no different than any other life-good that is necessary for one’s flourishing. R2 might serve the purpose of justifying certain religious understandings of forgiveness, and it appears consistent with eirenéism, but it unnecessarily makes a distinction between some life-goods and others. Without the threat of the repugnant implication, the motivation to develop forgiveness as a different sort of life-good is negated. For religious-minded individuals, (as seen in Chapter 2) God’s role in repentance and forgiveness might play a significant role in how one understands both concepts, but including a discussion of God in the moral relationship between agents and recipients is conceptually unnecessary, at least at the current level of discussion. 16 Forgiveness, like repentance, can be understood as an independent concept from its theological roots, and as such, a consistent ethic of eirenic forgiveness is justifiable apart from any religious concepts. None of this is meant to imply that there are no instances of third-party obligations to forgive, like those that might arise due to the community or a relationship in which one is engaged; but as a general principle, the life-good of forgiveness should remain part of the two-party obligation of the principle of correlatives. Furthermore, none of the above is meant to suggest that rights and forgiveness do not benefit from sound theological arguments. The main implication from the above is that in order to consistently retain the strong concept of inherent natural rights contained within eirenéism, and illustrated by the principle of correlatives, forgiveness should remain part of the two-

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party nature of rights and obligations. Additional religious arguments might be added to the framework, but they must not interfere with the principle of correlatives or with inherent nature of life-goods. OTHER RELIGIOUS ACCOUNTS OF FORGIVENESS Wolterstorff’s Christian-based argument for an obligation to forgive provides valuable insights into how incorporating God into eirenéism not only grounds an obligation to forgive, but also justifies the concept of a life-good. However, one need not accept Wolterstorff’s description of Christian-based forgiveness, nor maintain that only Christianity grounds an obligation to forgive. In the following paragraphs, I will briefly examine several conceptions of forgiveness from alternative Christian perspectives, and from Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, and Confucianism. 17 I will then discuss whether any of these accounts support an obligation to forgive that would call on us to reject eirenéism’s two-party obligation. Forgiveness plays a central role in Christianity, and often supports (either directly or indirectly) many contemporary discussions of forgiveness. As noted by Arendt earlier in the book, Jesus is considered the first to utilize forgiveness as a central moral doctrine in a way that is familiar to contemporary uses of “forgiveness.” Of course, the exact usage of “forgiveness” throughout the Christian Scriptures is open to debate, since several Greek terms lend themselves to multiple translations. “Apoluo,” “aphiemi,” “charizomai,” and “aphesis” are all terms sometimes translated as “forgiveness,” or one of its cognates: “forgive,” “forgiven,” etc. What is more, the diversity of Christian interpretive frameworks and denominations make pinning down one particular account of forgiveness exceedingly difficult. So, instead of trying to discuss each and every particular Christian conception of forgiveness, I will examine a few of the more well-developed and/or well-known accounts. As an example of a broad conception of Christian Forgiveness, James K. Voiss sums up the Christian conception of forgiveness in the following way: To put it simply: Christians understand their identity as Christian in terms of their response to the proclamation of the Gospel . . . that Good News— proclaimed by Jesus and, after the resurrection, proclaimed about Jesus— includes a commission to extend forgiveness of sin and to promote reconciliation between God and humankind and among all people to the ends of the world. 18

In relation to God, for Voiss, forgiveness creates a space within the “relational rupture” that occurs as a result of wrongdoing, where repentance and

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reconciliation with God can occur. In agreement with J. Randall O’Brien’s and Ralph C. Wood’s respective works, 19 God’s forgiveness precedes any act of repentance made by humans, and though human forgiveness might be the result of repentance and/or reconciliation, Christians are to recognize God’s forgiveness observed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and imitate the five characteristics of Christ’s forgiveness: 1) proactive; 2) freely giving; 3) sacramental (i.e., sacred); 4) the preferred option for those in need of receiving it; and 5) part of God’s mission to reconcile with “what is not God.” 20 Conceptually similar, other Christian accounts focus on the role of forgiveness in influencing the status of human nature and reconciling them to God. As noted by O’Brien, when discussing Pope John Paul II’s forgiveness of his potential killer, “For the whole emphasis of the New Testament is on forgiveness of sins, reconciliation and holy living manifested and made possible by the love of God through the Cross of Jesus Christ (Romans 5:5–6; John 4:9).” 21 So, when Christians participate in the act or process of forgiveness, they participate in God’s redemptive work. As Voiss suggests, it makes the hoped-for future (the Kingdom of God) real in the present. 22 In the same vein, the Catholic Catechism focuses on two types of forgiveness. The first type of forgiveness results from baptism, which is designed to wash away the original sin inherited from Adam, and all sins committed prior to baptism. The second type involves the sacraments of confession, penance, and reconciliation, seen in the heartfelt confession of sin, repentant thoughts and behaviors, and the expression of forgiveness for sin. These sacraments stress the missional nature of spreading forgiveness throughout all of creation, as a means for uniting with Christ in newness of life. There is no sin too great, or person too wicked, to be forgiven. 23 Other Christian groups, such as the Amish, focus on the role of forgiveness in securing salvation. The Amish have developed an approach to forgiveness that has gained notoriety in recent years for its demonstrated willingness to forgive so quickly and thoroughly. As seen in Donald Kraybill, Steven Nolt, and David Weaver-Zercher’s book Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcends Tragedy, the Amish have developed what many consider a “radical” approach. 24 It’s often considered radical because non-Amish do not understand that Amish forgiveness has two components: a personal, emotional component, and a communal, public component. The public component requires a quick statement of forgiveness, along with actions that promote the reincorporation of the wrongdoer back into the community. Public forgiveness is done regardless of what the wrongdoer wants, or her or his feelings, and even though it is this sort of forgiveness that makes the headlines of newspapers, there is still a personal component of forgiveness that occurs as a process within victims’ lives. In addition, Kraybill explains in a separate article that it is Jesus’ teachings on love of enemies and rejecting

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vengeance that supports the Amish understanding of forgiveness, one that leaves all vengeance in the hands of God. The Amish live by the belief that “If we don’t forgive, we won’t be forgiven,” which informs their understanding of salvation based on the Lord’s Prayer—we should forgive, in order to be forgiven. 25 There are some Christian accounts that focus on love. In Gregory Bock’s “Unconditional Forgiveness and Christian Love,” which serves as a response to Glen Pettigrove’s book Forgiveness and Love, Bock argues that a Christian account of love shows that forgiveness is unconditionally required, even toward one’s enemies. 26 God illustrates love by unconditionally forgiving humans regardless of their sins, and so, we too have a moral calling to imitate God’s love and forgive. This sort of love is seen profoundly in the parable of the prodigal son. As Bock describes, “the father’s love is steadfast and unconditional, enduring in spite of the son’s disobedience. This is how it ought to be in father-child relationships. A good father does not say to his children, ‘If you do such and such, I will love you, and if you are bad, I will love you no longer.’ Rather a good father loves his children simply because they are. So it is with God’s love toward us, his prodigal children.” 27 We are all sinners, and it is only through the grace of God’s unconditional love that we are forgiven. As seen in Jesus’ emphasis on love (love of God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind, and love of neighbor— Matthew 22:37–39), forgiveness is a moral and religious imperative, and the refusal to forgive is a refusal to love as God loves us. Bock concludes, “Since God’s love is unconditional, so is forgiveness.” 28 There are many other ways to discuss Christian forgiveness, either from direct biblical quotes or from the implications of particular theological writings. For instance, Quaker writings promote “a passionate love for men” that results from the experience of God existing within others, forgiveness respects and transforms this inner light. Finally, some Christian accounts focus on justice. Miroslav Volf says, “[T]he very idea of forgiveness implies an affirmation of justice.” 29 Of course, the justice to which Volf refers is not a retributive form of justice where the wrongdoer is appropriately punished. Instead, Volf says: The New Testament letters speak of Christ’s death on the cross and appeal to God’s forgiveness of sinners: “Live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us” (Eph. 5:2). We should not repay evil for evil or abuse for abuse, but, “on the contrary, repay with a blessing” (1 Pet. 3:9). We should forgive, “as God in Christ has forgiven” us (Eph. 4:32). The point of loving one’s enemies—of “repaying” persecution with blessing, and wrongdoing with forgiveness—is not to put up with evil. It is to resist being “overcome by evil” and to “overcome evil with good” (Rom. 12:21). Martin Luther makes the point eloquently . . . we forgive for the sake of the transgressor’s salvation . . . 30

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Do any of these varied Christian approaches suggest forgiveness is best understood as a third-party religious obligation? As we saw previously, making forgiveness a third-party command does nothing to enhance the nature of forgiveness. In fact, the transformative nature of forgiveness described in these Christian passages stresses the importance of forgiveness in human life to such a degree that I would suggest forgiveness is best understood as an inherent good in the lives of individuals, required for all people hoping to live a peaceful, flourishing life. The main difference in these accounts, as with Wolterstorff’s, is that offering an explanation that includes God, creates a dimension within the lives of Christians that should motivate a deeper consideration of the role of forgiveness in living the good life, but such a motivation is only an added benefit. None of these passages suggest forgiveness is only a good in the lives of Christians, or that forgiveness is only obligatory in cases where God commands it. Even for those who are motivated to forgive merely because it ensures their own personal salvation, their theological beliefs do not negate or diminish the moral worth of other humans. They simply hold a set of beliefs that enhances their interaction with other morally worthy beings. Eirenéism would respond by saying that God’s desire for interpersonal forgiveness is the result of God’s recognition of the worth of humans, regardless of whether such worth is the result of God’s love or part of what it means to be human. Though theologically related by their worship of the God of Abraham, Judaism and Islam take strikingly different approaches to forgiveness. For one, as noted during the discussion of repentance, both are more legalistic than Christianity. So, even though the notion of unconditional forgiveness fails to gain much traction, there is substantial conceptual support for a conditional obligation to forgive. In Judaism, God is the prime example of forgiveness—“as far as the east is from the west, so far he removes our transgressions from us” (Psalm 103:12 NRSV). Humans, then, are to emulate God’s forgiveness, but only when appropriate acts of penance and repentance occur. As seen in the Jewish High Holy day Yom Kippur, individuals are to seek out people who they have wronged and beg forgiveness. Not only should the wrongdoer ask for forgiveness, but she or he should make restitution available to the victim, if possible. Such an act is part of the repentance process, which requires that one cease evil and do good. If the victim is confident in the sincerity of the wrongdoer, then she or he should forgive. Just as humans are sheep in relation to God, humans should demonstrate the compassion and mercy illustrated by God’s shepherded forgiveness. Laurie Levenson’s “Judaism and Criminal Justice” provides insight into the importance of religious rules and laws within Judaism and how they promote justice. Levenson notes, “Justice derives from covenant—the social contract individuals have with God and with each other.” 31 By carrying out the social contract, individuals create a just state of affairs where they are

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righteous (i.e., justified) before God, and as a result, God’s peace (i.e., shalom) manifests throughout the community. The laws of the Torah—and other supporting documents, such as the Talmud, Midrash, Mishnah, Halakhah, and other Rabinic teachings—are not simply proscriptive; they are also prescriptive and proactive—“The goal is to control aberrant behavior and provide a society where accountability is based upon reason and moral imperatives, not just emotional reaction. The right to punish derives from the natural right of members of a community to protect their community.” 32 Carrying out the laws creates a state of justice, while failing to carry out said laws calls for retributive justice (i.e., punishment). Punishment, then, is meant to reinforce the law of society, keeping society healthy, by creating a process where individuals can “return” (i.e., teshuvah—repentance) to society. Judaism’s model of forgiveness, like eirenéism, is based on justice. As Levenson says about the Jewish criminal system, “justice derives from covenant—the social contract individuals have with God and with each other, “ 33 and rests on two principles—“din (judgment) and rahamim (compassion).” 34 Though God enforces justice, individuals freely act and are culpable for feely chosen wrong actions. So, individuals who consciously and freely choose to do wrong are responsible for making amends for their actions and for repairing the harm committed against specific individuals and the community. Repentance, then, becomes the major moral conceptual feature of Judaism, illustrated by Halakhah—the Jewish period of “ten days of teshuvah” that bridge Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur. Halakhah provides a social legitimization of an individual’s struggle to change the course of his or her life. 35 As victims of wrongdoing, we are to exhibit condemnation and compassion— punishing but also taking into account the repentant actions (or lack thereof) of wrongdoers. The similarities between eirenéism and Jewish theology should be apparent to the reader. Eirenéism derives from the Hebrew concept of shalom, and argues for a rights-based theory of justice that promotes the peaceful flourishing of individuals and communities. The main difference between the two is that eirenéism is based on reasoning that requires no reference to God or the Divine. Nevertheless, Judaism’s inclusion of God does not present any conceptual difficulties. In fact, since eirenéism’s emphasis is on the rights of all individuals, it might create a stronger ethic, requiring more than the mercy and compassion prescribed by Judaism. Much will depend upon one’s particular interpretive framework, but eirenéism makes respecting the rights of repentant wrongdoers a matter of justice. So, not forgiving, or refusing to work toward forgiving, would be wrong, according to eirenéism; whereas within Judaism, forgiving might produce the most favorable outcome, but is not (at least, according to some interpretative frameworks) morally required. What is more, there appears to be no reason to think that Judaism interprets forgiveness as something unique and different from a life-good for humans.

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Forgiveness is part of God’s justice, but God neither commands nor sets it apart as something fundamentally unique. Instead, it is simply part of the process of achieving justice/shalom. For Islam, mercy-as-an-imitation-of-God informs how Muslims understand forgiveness, both in regard to forgiving Muslims and non-Muslims. God is all-merciful and all-loving, and in the face of what Mona Siddiqui refers to as the “inevitability of human wrongdoing,” the only means of reconciling humans to God is through divine forgiveness. 36 Like Judaism, human wrongdoing is seen as the result of the violation of the holy law, but the Qur’an offers hope: Say, “O my servants who have transgressed against themselves, despair not of the mercy of God (rahma Allah), for God forgives all sins: for He is oft-forgiving, most merciful (ghafū al-raḥīm)” (Q 39:53). 37 There are many wonderful passages on forgiveness found in the Qur’an, but to fully understand Islamic tradition, one must examine how the different branches of Islam understand these passages. The Sufi tradition in Islam, marked by its mysticism, makes repentance a foundational concept—“It is the first and decisive step that all people (including Muslims) need to take in order to return to where they came from: God.” 38 As the influential Sufi, Ibn ‘Arabi notes, God’s name is ‘al-’Afuww,’ which means “pardoning.” So in the face of wrongdoing, even when God punishes, such punishment is ameliorated through an eventual act of forgiveness. 39 Even sinners and polytheists are eventually forgiven and released from the torments of afterlife. To reiterate the Qur’an, “God forgives all sins: for He is oft-forgiving, most merciful” (39:53). The two other major Muslim traditions, Sunnism and Shi’ism, offer different explanations in regard to each other and within each other. Nevertheless, they agree that forgiveness occurs as a result of repentance, either by becoming a Muslim or by rejecting the life and actions associated with one’s sin. The question, then, is does God have to accept (and by extension, humans) repentance and forgive? Shi’ite theologians from the Mu’tazili tradition maintain that God is obligated to (it would be unjust for God to not) accept repentance, while Sunni theologians maintain that accepting repentance is solely God’s prerogative—God can choose not to forgive a repentant person, and can forgive a non-repentant person. 40 Furthermore, Basrian Mu’tazili Muslims suggest that after repentance has removed the punishment from sin, God chooses to forgive based on human merit, while Sunni and Baghdadian Mu’tazili suggest it is God’s favor whether to forgive. 41 What lessons are Muslims to learn from God’s forgiveness? If individuals wrong another individual while violating Islamic law, victims have a right to demand justice. Like Judaism, Muslims are to respect the law that appears in the Qur’an and other accepted legal documents, and justice requires that victims and wrongdoers receive justice. Whether or not Islam allows for a lessening of punishment, in order to give a second chance to a wrongdoer, is

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open to debate. Zakaur Rahman Khan Lodi argues that Islamic law is flexible and allows for leniency when doing so recognizes a wrongdoer’s repentance, while other Muslims maintain that Islamic law does not change or allow for interpretations to take into account contextual particularities. 42 With these interpretive questions, it is difficult to say anything regarding forgiveness within the Islamic legal system. Outside of the legal system, when individuals wrong each other interpersonally, Muslims must determine how best to imitate God’s actions and teachings. Moucarry uses the writing of Fakhr al-Din Razi to show how Muslims should use leaders and prophets as role models for living-out the lessons of the Qur’an. 43 Just as God is merciful and forgiving, so too should his people be merciful and forgiving. According to Razi, “The Prophet is believed to have said, ‘The highest moral attribute that characterises Muslims is their willingness to forgive.’” 44 Moucarry suggests that Muslims are to forgive relentlessly, becoming part of a person’s daily life, illustrating their character, and ensuring God’s forgiveness on the Day of Judgment. 45 In fact, the Qur’an suggests that forgiving is closer to righteousness than claiming one’s right (2:237). 46 Razi goes on to suggest that such attitudes should be extended to even non-Muslims, for even Muhammad was told by God to extend peace to non-Muslims, for it is God’s prerogative to punish. 47 Nevertheless, whether or not forgiveness extends to non-Muslims is open to considerable debate. People of the Book (Jews and Christians) appear to have a higher standing in terms of being forgiven, but even they can justifiably be “fought,” just as polytheists are to be “fought.” Settling such a difficult and complex theological question is beyond the scope of this chapter and text, but what we can say is that: 1) as a general rule, Muslims are to forgive other Muslims; and 2) there is textual evidence to support Muslims forgiving other non-Muslims, though such forgiveness would count as an extreme form of mercy. Nothing within Islam seems to support a strict obligation to forgive. There is conceptual space based on textual evidence from the Qur’an and interpreters for saying that God promotes, respects, and rewards forgiveness, but it would be a stretch to say God commands forgiveness. One definitely cannot support a claim that says victims are obliged to forgive unrepentant wrongdoers. In fact, such forgiveness for Islam would be considered inappropriate and probably wrong. Even with repentant wrongdoers, it is unclear that there is ever an obligation to forgive in Islam. As noted in 2:237 of the Qur’an, at most forgiveness seems to be the action that is best, but never morally required. So, eirenic forgiveness has stricter prescriptions for when one ought to forgive, and it allows for appropriate acts of forgiveness, even when the wrongdoer is non-repentant. Let me conclude this chapter by looking to two final religious concepts. Frist, as Christopher Ketcham describes in “Buddhism and the End to For-

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giveness,” Buddhism frames forgiveness as something that needs to be overcome. He says, “Buddhism ultimately seeks an end to forgiveness by replacing it with unconditional compassion.” 48 Granting that there are many forms of Buddhism, Ketcham concludes that “forgiveness serves to unstick the unenlightened so that the wrongdoer can learn the way forward” toward Nibbāna (i.e., Nirvana). 49 Another informative story of Buddhist forgiveness is seen in the following. One day the Buddha was sitting under a tree talking to his disciples, when a stranger came and spit on his face. The Buddha did not react, except for rebuking his disciples for getting angry. Due to the Buddha’s response, the stranger went home perplexed. He came back the next day and begged the Buddha for forgiveness, and the Buddha responded by saying, “Forgive? But I am not the same man to whom you did it. The Ganges goes on flowing, it is never the same Ganges again. Every man is a river. The man you spit upon is no longer here. . . . The river has flowed so much. So I cannot forgive you because I have no grudge against you. And you are also new.” 50 The story illustrates how the Buddha found no need to forgive, for compassion teaches that both are different people than they were the previous day. Compassion calls attention to our shared plight in this realm of existence, and as such, teaches there is no need for forgiveness. Second, Man-to TANG examines the terms associated with a Confucian doctrine of forgiveness, and offers an intriguing interpretation of forgiveness by examining the meaning of “Shu.” To quote at length from TANG, so as not to confuse: Kuan (寬) refers to generosity, a willingness to pardon, and is often used by people of a higher social status or hierarchical party, e.g., the emperor. Rong (容) refers to an individual act of pardoning, through which guilt is admitted. Shi (釋) refers to an act of pardoning as well, but is specifically used to release a certain social crime. It implicitly implies the restoration of the relationship between civilians and the criminal, that is to say, to let the criminal back to the community. Mian (免) refers to the decision to let someone avoid punishment for his wrongdoing. She (赦) also refers to the decision to let someone avoid the punishment of his wrongdoing, but like Kuan (寬), is specifically used by someone of higher social status or hierarchical party. Rao (饒) refers to the decision to let someone avoid the punishment of his wrongdoing, but is specifically used by equals of a higher social status, e.g., a noble to another noble. 51

According to TANG, none of these terms actually capture Confucius’s understanding of forgiveness, though they play an important role in making sense of different types of human relationships. Instead, Confucian “forgiveness” centers on the term “Shu,” which promotes a forgiving way of life. Shu asks us to put ourselves in the “shoes” of the other person, and once we see that we too are capable of the same wrongdoing, our compassion calls on us to forgive. Similar

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to accounts offered by authors such as Margaret Holmgren, 52 Confucian forgiveness is an attitude, requiring an openness of heart, rather than providing a strict moral rule that one is required to follow. As an attitude, then, Shu suggests that we as humans are only capable of forgiving on an interpersonal, conditional level, but at the same time promotes an expansion of self-understanding that calls us to seek the ideal of god-like unconditional forgiveness. In other words, we as humans are limited in our abilities to forgive, but “we should aspire to forgive beyond our capabilities.” 53 Do either Buddhism or Confucianism support an obligation to forgive? “No.” At most, they suggest a way of life that promotes certain attitudes, ones that ask followers to move beyond the need for forgiveness. Forgiveness, then, is at most a means of achieving a greater enlightenment of existence, but in no way a necessary means. It would also be difficult to say that Buddhism or Confucianism would support a claim that forgiveness is an inherent life-good of individuals. Forgiveness might be tied to the worth individuals have in themselves, but neither of these readings suggest forgiveness is an end to respecting the worth of individuals. So, a Buddhist or Confucian could be an eirenist and accept that inherent worth somehow attaches to the lives of individuals and/or communities, but would probably develop a different understanding of peaceful flourishing. Such an understanding would not necessarily contradict the flourishing of more Western/ Middle-Eastern religions, but it might shift the emphasis from the right to enjoy certain goods, to the right to enjoy a broader enlightenment. Such a “shift” is an intriguing possibility, and one that could produce fruitful insights into the nature of human flourishing and inter-faith and -cultural understandings of peace and forgiveness. Sadly, it is beyond the scope of this chapter. I include such a brief discussion merely as a means to show how Buddhism and Confucianism (at least, in some interpretative frameworks) are amenable to and do not contradict the two-party nature of eirenic forgiveness; and hopefully to spur further discussion in other areas of research. CONCLUDING REMARKS The main question of this chapter concerned whether or not forgiveness should be framed as a religious obligation commanded by God or the Divine, instead of as an interpersonal moral obligation that results from the inherent moral worth of individuals. Since such a specific question is not part of the central doctrines of several major world religions, it is not surprising that there are no direct answers in any of their writings. I examined several religious writings on forgiveness, and though there are several ways of interpreting these writings, none suggest that forgiveness should be understood strictly as a religious obligation. They provide motives for why followers

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might seek forgiveness, some claiming forgiveness as a worthy end, while others claim it as a means to some worthy end, but none suggest forgiveness is solely a religious concept or obligation. Furthermore, none of the religions examined suggest forgiveness is in itself a unique life-good for humans. It is a means to reconciling with other humans and with God, and it is a means to achieving a deeper enlightenment, but there appears to be no grounding for saying forgiveness is so different and unique that it should be set aside as different from other life-goods required for human flourishing. In fact, one would think that if forgiveness were to be significantly different, such a difference would be displayed in Christianity, due to its prominence and centrality in its theology and religious practices. However, no such difference is evident. One could even argue that since God’s forgiveness precedes repentance and reconciliation, Christians should focus more on the moral importance of the latter two concepts than the former. Of course, such a suggestion is an oversimplification of what it means to forgive and how forgiveness relates to reconciliation. The next chapter will address these and other related issues to reconciliation. For now, however, there seems no reason to think there is a form of Christian or nonChristian forgiveness is contradictory to eirenic forgiveness. Of course, much of my conclusion rests on the particular interpretative frameworks of each religion. One particular framework, illustrated in Wolterstorff’s writings, provides the most sustained argument against forgiveness being a two-party obligation. Wolterstorff’s writings provide enough conceptual material to show that a third-party obligation from God’s commands is consistent with eirenéism, but employing such an argument places unnecessary strain on the conceptual framework of eirenéism. At worst, it threatens the inherent moral worth of individuals, as illustrated in the principle of correlatives. At best, it makes forgiveness (and all other duties of charities) unnecessarily complicated. Without God’s knowledge of genuine human needs, it becomes unclear what is an inherent human right and what is a natural right derived from God’s commands. If the reader accepts my argument from Chapter 2, which shows how to avoid the repugnant implication and maintain a two-party obligation to forgive, then there seems to be no good reason for making forgiveness a duty of charity. As a result, we can avoid complicating eirenéism and the repugnant implication by simply maintaining forgiveness as a life-good, like all other life-goods. NOTES 1. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice in Love (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2011), 188. 2. Ibid. 3. Immanuel Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals, The Doctrine of Virtue [390], trans. Mary J. Gregor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 194.

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4. Ibid., [446], 240. 5. Ibid., [446], 241. 6. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Justice: Rights and Wrongs (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008), 384. 7. One could argue that, in such cases, “true” forgiveness does not occur, and I would probably agree. However, determining the nature of “true” forgiveness (or false forgiveness) is not under consideration in this book. 8. Wolterstorff, Rights and Wrongs, 383. 9. Ibid., 236. 10. Ibid., 70. 11. Ibid., 34–35. 12. Ibid., 36. 13. Wolterstorff, Justice in Love, 2. 14. Ibid., 190. 15. Ibid., 197. 16. For instance, there are certain conceptual difficulties regarding what actually grounds rights, difficulties that are resolved by utilizing the existence of God. Nevertheless, God’s role in grounding rights can be bracketed, so as to focus on the specific rights of individuals without necessarily calling on the existence of God. 17. There is surprisingly little work done on inter-faith understandings of forgiveness. Gregory Bock’s upcoming volume (2018) in Vernon Press’s The Philosophy of Forgiveness series is one of the few exceptions. 18. James K. Voiss, Rethinking Christian Forgiveness: Theological, Philosophical, and Psychological Explorations (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2015), xiii. 19. J. Randall O’Brien, “Forgiveness: Taking the Word to Heart,” 15–21, and Ralph C. Wood’s “God’s Repentance-Enabling Forgiveness,” 64–70; both in “Forgiveness,” Christian Reflection: A Series in Faith and Ethics (Waco, TX: The Center for Christian Ethics at Baylor University, 2001). 20. Voiss, 363. 21. O’Brien, 16. 22. Voiss, 366. 23. John A. Hardon, Pocket Catholic Catechism, I, 11, 5 (New York: Image Books, Doubleday, 1989). 24. Donald Kraybill, Steven Nolt, and David Weaver-Zercher’s, Amish Grace: How Forgiveness Transcends Tragedy (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2007). 25. Donald B. Kraybill, “Why the Amish Forgive So Quickly,” The Christian Science Monitor, accessed October 2, 2007. 26. Gregory L. Bock, “Unconditional Forgiveness and Christian Love,” in The Philosophy of Forgiveness, Volume I, Explorations of Forgiveness: Personal Relational, and Religious, ed. Court Lewis (Wilmington, DE, and Malaga, Spain: Vernon Press, 2016). 27. Bock, 233. 28. Ibid., 242. 29. Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996), 122. 30. Miroslav Volf, Allah: A Christian Response (New York: Harper One, 2011), 178. 31. Laurie L. Levenson, “Judaism and Criminal Justice,” in Oxford Handbook of Jewish Ethics and Morality, ed. Elliot N. Dorff and Jonathan K. Crane (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 473. 32. Ibid., 474. 33. Ibid. 34. Ibid., 474–475. 35. Solomon Schimmel, Wounds Not Healed by Time: The Power of Repentance and Forgiveness (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 177. 36. Mona Siddiqui, Christians, Muslims, & Jesus (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2013), 183. 37. Ibid.

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38. Chawkat Moucarry, The Search for Forgiveness: Pardon and Punishment in Islam and Christianity (Nottingham, England: Inter-Varsity Press, 2011), 19. 39. Ibid., 236. 40. Ibid., 113–114. 41. Ibid., 115. 42. Ibid., 282. 43. Ibid., 289. 44. Ibid., 290–291. 45. Ibid., 291. 46. “And if you divorce them before consummation, but after the fixation of a dower for them, then the half of the dower (is due to them), unless they remit it or (the man’s half) is remitted by him in whose hands is the marriage tie [i.e., forgive the debt]; and the remission (of the man’s half) is the nearest to righteousness. And do not forget liberality between yourselves. For Allah sees well all that you do.” 47. Moucarry, 297–299. 48. Christopher Ketcham, “Buddhism and the End to Forgiveness,” in The Philosophy of Forgiveness, Volume I, Explorations of Forgiveness: Personal Relational, and Religious, ed. Court Lewis (Wilmington, DE, and Malaga, Spain: Vernon Press, 2016), 245. 49. Ibid., 276. 50. Danie M. “Buddha Teaches a Lesson on Forgiveness,” Personal Blog. Quoted from Salman Akhtar and Harold P. Blum, The Language of Emotions: Developmental, Psychopathology, and Technique (Lanham, MD: Jason Aronson, Inc., 2005), 119. 51. Man-to TANG, “The Double Intentionality of Forgiveness: A Non-reductive Account of Forgiveness in Ricoeur and Confucius,” in The Philosophy of Forgiveness, Volume I, Explorations of Forgiveness: Personal Relational, and Religious, ed. Court Lewis (Wilmington, DE, and Malaga, Spain: Vernon Press, 2016), 217. 52. Margaret Holmgren, Forgiveness and Retribution: Responding to Wrongdoing (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012). 53. Ibid., 220.

Chapter Five

Toward Reconciliation

Forgiveness and reconciliation are intimately intertwined concepts, but so far, I have had little to say about the latter. Up to this point, Chapter 3’s examination of the unforgivable and revenge came the closest to offering an explicit account of reconciliation, showing how eirenéism promotes interpersonal forgiveness and the shared responsibility between victims, wrongdoers, and communities. What is more, Chapters 1 and 2 assumed a conception of reconciliation based on eirenéism’s goal of the peaceful flourishing of moral agents in relation to one another. Such a goal means that reconciliation (of some sort) is a necessary component of eirenéism’s conception of the good life. What is interesting is that even with eirenéism’s goal of the peaceful flourishing of all moral agents, eirenéism never provides any specific guidance on how to conceive reconciliation, other than the image of moral agents enjoying the goods to which they have a right. My task will be to rectify this shortcoming. More specifically, I will use this chapter to develop an account of reconciliation that is consistent with eirenéism. I use the term “consistent” because I do not think there is a specific type of eirenic reconciliation. In fact, I will argue that it supports two conceptions of reconciliation: a weaker type of acceptance-reconciliation, and a more robust affirmative-reconciliation. To make sense of these two types of reconciliation, I begin by briefly looking at some general conceptual features of reconciliation, then move into a discussion of how reconciliation relates to forgiveness. More specifically, I examine why forgiveness is sometimes discussed as being prior to reconciliation, the result of reconciliation, and the same as reconciliation. From this examination, I argue that eirenéism grounds two different conceptions of reconciliation, one that allows for neutral feelings toward wrongdoers and resumed social cooperation, and one that allows for the reemergence of positive feel113

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ings of friendship and strong social cooperation. After satisfactorily developing these two types of reconciliation, I broaden the discussion to show how eirenéism imagines social reconciliation. More precisely, I discuss how eirenéism attends to the particular needs of local communities, while also protecting the needs of individuals from being trampled by specific cultural traditions and practices. From this discussion I show how eirenéism calls on us to use our moral imagination to see beyond our narrow world of selfinterests, to embrace our vulnerabilities, to trust and be truthful, and to imagine co-existing with others in a way that allows all of us to flourish. APPROACHES TO RECONCILIATION There is little writing dedicated to defining reconciliation. Most books on forgiveness seem to assume an account of reconciliation, and so use it as though there is only one understanding. I am not criticizing such authors, for on one level, “reconciliation” is a clearly understood term. “Reconciliation” is a combination of the prefix “re,” meaning “again,” and “concilare,” meaning “make friendly.” So, “reconciliation” simply means “to make friendly again,” to “reestablish or restore a friendship,” and/or to “become compatible with again.” When these events occur, we say that the parties are reconciled. I assume that it is this sort of definition that most authors utilize in uncontroversial ways. The problem, however, is that if this is the only viable use of “reconciliation,” then only in instances where victims and wrongdoers restore their friendship will its use be justified. Using “reconciliation” to refer to the restored relationship between strangers would be inappropriate, including its use in truth commissions designed to restore working relationships in atrocity-torn communities. Strangers cannot restore a friendship that did not exist in the first place, and unless we wish to jettison the use of “reconciliation” in such cases, we need a conception of “reconciliation” that will capture both robust instances of reestablishing friendships and weaker instances of merely reestablishing the ability to function together in society. Before offering an argument for how this can be achieved, we should distinguish between two ways in which one can be reconciled. As Deborah Spitz notes, we can either be reconciled to something or with something. 1 To be reconciled to something means that one comes to accept it, usually as a type of resignation toward a situation that is unwanted. This sort of reconciliation occurs between a person and an event, such as not getting a job, going bald, gaining weight, and getting cancer. It can occur between two persons, but when it does, the focus is usually on the situation and not the person. For instance, if my wife cheats on me, then to say, “I am reconciled to the fact my spouse was unfaithful,” is a statement about the situation, not the relationship I have with my wife. If my wife and I reconciled, I would say, “I am

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reconciled with my wife,” meaning we have come to terms with the event, and have found a way to move forward as husband and wife. As Sptiz claims, to be reconciled with someone “implies willing acceptance, hope, and optimism about the future.” 2 It would be easy to interpret Spitz’s claim as meaning that to be reconciled with another requires affirmative feelings of love and trust, but as she later notes, reconciliation does not always imply reconnecting with one’s wrongdoer. The hope and optimism about the future is an attitude that illustrates victims have moved beyond their negative feelings toward their wrongdoers. They are no longer filled with anger, hatred, and resentment, but have found reasons for thinking, at the very minimum, “I can move on with my life, accepting that this person has changed, therefore, allowing me to treat her or him with the respect all moral agents deserve.” To see why allowing for this sort of reconciliation is needed, let us turn our attention toward three approaches to understanding the relationship between forgiveness and reconciliation. A survey of forgiveness literature, or accounts of forgiveness, produces three distinct ways in which forgiveness and reconciliation are used in relation to one another. First, reconciliation can be seen as a state of affairs that leads to (or allows) forgiveness. Second, forgiveness can be seen as a process of acts, attitudes, and beliefs that leads to reconciliation. Finally, forgiveness and reconciliation might be considered the same. The first approach maintains that reconciliation is prior to and allows for forgiveness, and is best illustrated by Martha Minow’s work on the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Between Vengeance and Forgiveness. 3 Minow suggests that to be reconciled with a wrongdoer one must be capable of socially interacting with the wrongdoer, even if one does not actively seek out friendships and associations with that individual. In other words, the type of reconciliation Minow describes is a sort of agreement between victim and wrongdoer (whether explicit or implicit) that allows for both parties to actively participate in society without the threat of vengeance, discrimination, or some other form of retribution. With this sort of reconciliation, a victim may be reconciled to a wrongdoer and lack any positive feelings or attitudes toward the wrongdoer. In fact, there may still be minimum levels of distrust, as long as such attitudes do not inhibit the victim’s ability to participate socially with the wrongdoer. Participating socially can occur on many different levels. For instance, Bill cheats on his wife Susan, and as a result, they get divorced. Susan has been wronged, she is angry, and is so far unable to forgive Bill for his indiscretion. In fact, upon finding out about Bill’s unfaithfulness, her original response was to become enraged and vow to never forget nor ever let him forget his wrongdoing. Nevertheless, after a period of time she decides to carry on with her life as usual. She participates in local functions, like block parties, festivals, voting day, etc., and at some of these events she encounters Bill. When

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she sees Bill she acts as though he is just another person, a stranger like many of the other people she encounters while participating in society. She does not make a scene, glare at him, or turn other people against him. As far as she is concerned, he is simply just another member of the community that she has no interest in engaging. She does not like or trust him, nor does she want to talk or be friends with him, but she can recognize his value as a human and as a member of her community, and as a result, she can be a productive member of society in concert with Bill. To see that we should consider this moral state of affairs reconciliation, consider the process of forgiveness. As Charles Griswold notes, the process of forgiveness begins with a type of “acceptance” of the wrongdoer, as a commitment to not interfere with the wrongdoer as he carries on with his life. 4 It is this space of non-interference and neutrality that allows individuals an opportunity to work toward coming to terms with how they were wronged and to possibly/eventually achieve forgiveness. As Griswold suggests, we should consider this neutral state of non-interference reconciliation, because it is an instance of a significant commitment to ending, and for some an end of, a victim’s feelings of resentment. To ignore or to diminish this type of acceptance-reconciliation is to discount an important moral event in the lives of victims (and wrongdoers), one that is not forgiveness, but provides opportunities for victims and wrongdoers to work toward forgiveness and more robust forms of reconciliation, if they so desire or choose. Acceptance-reconciliation is significant because it indicates that Susan accepts Bill as a morally worthy being, and though she may have no desire to affirm Bill in the sense of reestablishing a relationship of friendship and trust, she reconciles to Bill in such a way that she agrees (either implicitly or explicitly) to treat him with the moral respect all moral agents deserve. So, instead of reestablishing friendship, acceptance-reconciliation reestablishes a relationship of acquaintances or strangers, which after some cases of wrongdoing, is a significant step of reconciliation. To be clear, acceptance-reconciliation does not condone wrongdoing. The drop in status of the wrongdoer, from friend to stranger illustrates victims’ non-condonation of the wrong and wrongdoer. What is more, acceptancereconciliation, like any sort of reconciliation, requires truth. Relationships are built on some level of trust, and when a wrong is committed this trust is broken. Truth provides a foundation to rebuild the trust that grounds relationships. Granted, a victim might request to remain ignorant about some details of certain wrongdoings, but if the victim believes she or he knows the truth, yet the wrongdoer withholds important details, then it would be improper to say they are reconciled. Without knowing the true nature of the wrong, reconciliation is merely a façade. To return to the example of Susan, if she falsely believes that Bill only had one additional lover, then her decision to accept Bill’s company post-affair is based on false information, so we cannot

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say she is reconciled to Bill for his wrongdoing. Without the truth of all of Bill’s infidelities, she will not be in a position to reconcile in any way with Bill. For Bill to withhold information and to allow Susan to falsely believe they are reconciled is to further wrong Susan. As seen in Minow’s work on the South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, acceptance-reconciliation paves the way for people to agree to live and work together, but such a path must be paved with truth. At a minimum, acceptance-reconciliation is a median between vengeance and forgiveness, one that might create possibilities for future relationships of reconciliation and forgiveness. In addition, acceptance-reconciliation protects victims from further wrongdoing. It is unwise for some victims to reconcile with their wrongdoers, for fear of continued abuse and/or manipulation. We also do not want to give wrongdoers the power to prevent victims from seeking forgiveness. As stated throughout the book, victims have a right to seek and grant forgiveness wholly apart from the status or actions of wrongdoers. To ensure this right is respected, we must have a means for victims to begin the process of forgiveness, while at the same time protecting themselves from future abuses. Acceptance-reconciliation provides such a means, allowing victims to accept wrongdoers back into the moral community without reestablishing friendly relationships. Before providing further argumentation, it will be helpful to introduce the other two approaches. The second approach to understanding the relationship between reconciliation and forgiveness is to maintain that forgiveness is prior to and allows for reconciliation. Unlike acceptance-reconciliation, Griswold maintains that paradigmatic forgiveness—when both victim and wrongdoer meet their appropriate conditions for forgiveness 5—is the necessary condition that gives victims the ability to affirm the wrongdoer and welcome them back into their lives. Affirmative-reconciliation would “be something like friendship and support or a renewal of any previous ties of affection.” 6 There is nothing guaranteeing forgiveness will lead to affirmative-reconciliation, but it gives victims and wrongdoers the best chance for reestablishing close ties and friendship. In the case of Susan and Bill, affirmative-reconciliation would mean that Susan has at the very least welcomed Bill back as a friend, and at most decided to renew the marriage. The final way of understanding the relationship between forgiveness and reconciliation is to say they are the same. The previous discussion suggests there is a clear conceptual difference between reconciliation and forgiveness, and when authors combine the two, it appears to be the result of a conceptual shorthand, not a conceptual conflation. For instance, Martin Luther King, Jr. claims in a sermon, “Forgiveness means reconciliation, a coming together again.” 7 What he appears to be expressing is the idea that when forgiveness occurs, affirmative-reconciliation occurs, for if he really thought they were the same term, then what he would be saying is forgiveness means forgive-

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ness (or reconciliation means reconciliation), and such a statement offers no insight into what it means to come together again. King, however, does not conceptually conflate the terms, but instead, is telling his audience that when victims achieve a complete and full forgiveness, then they have reestablished the friendship described by affirmative-reconciliation. If victims and wrongdoers are not reconciled, then they have not achieved full forgiveness. Regardless of the merits of King’s conception of forgiveness, the point is that though it is possible to talk of forgiveness and reconciliation being the same, the more accurate statement is that in certain paradigmatic cases, they occur at the same time. For anyone wishing to maintain they are the same, they have the burden of proof to explain the nature of each event and why they cannot occur separately. Since I maintain they are separate concepts, I will leave such an argument for those who are so inclined. For my project, the main question is should acceptance-reconciliation be counted as reconciliation? Barrett Emerick argues that reconciliation requires victims give up at least most of their hard feelings toward wrongdoers (i.e., to forgive them), and without such a giving-up, any interaction with my wrongdoer is an example of toleration or collaboration, not reconciliation. 8 Emerick’s main concern is avoiding instances where victims choose to work with their wrongdoers, yet still harbor desires of violence. For Emerick, if victims retain a desire to do violence, even though they are able to work together, we should not say they are reconciled. Even though Emerick discusses reconciliation in terms of what I call affirmative-reconciliation, his requirement that no desire to do violence exists is consistent with acceptance-reconciliation. Acceptance-reconciliation allows for feelings of mistrust and anger, but would not allow for desires of violence. Acceptance-reconciliation requires accepting wrongdoers back into the moral community, which implies a rejection of violent attitudes, since to do violence to others would be to disrespect their moral worth. One cannot harbor violent ill-will and be said to have accepted the wrongdoer back into her community. Emerick’s argument is that reconciliation requires bilateral action by both parties, unlike forgiveness that is unilateral, so his view mirrors what I call affirmative-reconciliation. Even so, there is nothing preventing his account from supporting acceptance-reconciliation. Where my account and his separate is where Emerick requires wrongdoers (and victims) to repair the damage done to their relationship. 9 I do not disagree that such a repair would count as reconciliation, but surely it is too much to require affirmative-reconciliation in all cases. Such a requirement is too stringent, limiting the ability of victims to come to terms with their wrongdoers, and ignores the nature of complex wrongdoings that would advise against not renewing relationships. What is more, Emerick’s argument fails to explain the phenomenon that occurs when feelings of ill-will are released, yet relationships are never repaired. Such cases are not tolerance or collaboration, because there is not ill-will, but

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according to Emerick, they should not count as reconciliation either, because the relationship is unrepaired. Emerick could claim that the victim has begun a movement toward reconciliation, but if there is no desire to repair the relationship, then it cannot be said to be part of the working toward reconciliation. The only solution I see is to carve out a conceptual space for a type of reconciliation that allows for victims’ neutral feelings toward their wrongdoer, where they accept them as they would other moral agents, but refrain from affirming the relationship they once (or never) shared. Assuming acceptance- and affirmative-reconciliation are true instances of reconciliation, we are left with a possible dilemma. Since both suggest opposite moral landscapes, acceptance implies reconciliation is prior to forgiveness, while affirmative implies forgiveness is prior to reconciliation, then either one of them must be wrong, or reconciliation must be capable of bearing the weight of both landscapes. We could reject one of the types of reconciliation, but doing so would not solve the problem—there would still exist the two phenomena that resemble reconciliation. Instead of rejecting one or the other, I would like to suggest that reconciliation is dynamic enough to support both phenomena, while at the same time explaining why reconciliation is sometimes discussed as prior to and other times the result of forgiveness. Affirmative-reconciliation has a positive component, where victims embrace and readmit wrongdoers into their lives. If to be reconciled is to be brought back together, then affirmative-reconciliation seems to be the most complete form of reconciliation. Both victims and wrongdoers are back together, and have reestablished their former relationship. However, “being brought back together” is ambiguous, for one can be brought back together with another without having positive feelings. Granted, intense negative feelings would prevent two parties from being brought back together, for the anger and resentment serves to prohibit the use of “together,” at least in the sense utilized by “reconciliation.” Neutral feelings, however, do not prohibit togetherness. In fact, they are a necessary condition for togetherness. To be together simply means that individuals are capable of co-existing, having a working relationship where both parties respect the rights and obligations of each other. There is nothing requiring that reconciliation has the positive relational components demonstrated in affirmative-reconciliation. The “being back together” can occur with both neutral and positive feelings, and as a result, reconciliation occurs on a spectrum. On a minimal level, reconciliation requires neutral feelings, and on a more complete level, involves positive feelings associated with the original relationship. We should be careful not to frame acceptance-reconciliation as in some way inferior to the “ideal” state of affirmative-reconciliation, where all victims should strive for affirmative-reconciliation. Framing affirmative-reconciliation as the “ideal” opens victims to abuse. There are many times when it

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would be appropriate for victims to seek affirmative-reconciliation, but there are just as many times when acceptance-reconciliation is probably the best outcome for victims. As noted when discussing forgiveness, victims must be protected from abusive relationships where they are further victimized, and requiring affirmative-reconciliation would require victims to welcome their wrongdoers back into their lives. We must avoid such a requirement. Acceptance-reconciliation allows victims the opportunity to come to terms with the negative feelings associated with their wrongdoers, while at the same time protecting themselves from future wrongs. So, instead of conceptualizing a process where victims should start with acceptance-reconciliation and work toward the ideal of affirmative-reconciliation, we should see both as morally significant outcomes that serve to provide a way in which victims and wrongdoers can learn to coexist. Reconciliation, therefore, seems capable of supporting both forms of acceptance- and affirmative-reconciliation, and as a result, we can now explain why reconciliation is sometimes discussed as prior to forgiveness and sometimes as the result of forgiveness. When reconciliation is discussed as prior to (or leading to) forgiveness, the concept of acceptance-reconciliation is being utilized. Victims have come to a point in their lives where they have replaced their negative feelings with a minimal feeling of neutrality, and this acceptance provides the space in which the process of forgiveness can begin. As individuals work through the process of forgiveness, they may then choose to reinstitute relationships with their former-friends who committed wrongs. In such cases, forgiveness provides the space in which affirmative-reconciliation occurs. With such an explanation, we see the richness of the relationship between reconciliation and forgiveness, where the process of forgiveness overlaps with the spectrum of reconciliation, contributing to and influencing how victims and wrongdoers interact, engage, and come to terms with the wrong that occurred between them. Before moving on to social aspects of reconciliation, I must make clear that just because forgiveness and reconciliation can (and often do) work in tandem, there is nothing requiring they do. To reference the above case, Susan might be reconciled to Bill, but incapable of forgiving, or capable of forgiving, but due to her lack of trust, unable to participate in certain social acts that reaffirm their prior relationship. These seem to be common occurrences for victims coming to terms with their wrongdoers. Another set of issues arises from cases like Miroslav Volf, discussed in previous chapters. As a reminder, Volf attempts to forgive his torturer who he has no means of communicating with or even knowing if he is still alive. For Volf, forgiveness repairs the bonds between victim and wrongdoer, while reconciliation makes it as though the wrong never occurred. 10 In cases like Volf’s, when the wrongdoer is unknown, cannot be found, or is dead, forgiveness and reconciliation seem impossible. No bonds can be repaired, because there is no

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wrongdoer in which to repair one’s bonds, and one cannot affirm a relationship when there is no wrongdoer in which to have a relationship. One could theoretically live their lives in a way consistent with acceptance-reconciliation, taking on an attitude that no matter who the torturer is, I am going to treat her or him no differently than any other moral being. In such a case, you self-reconcile with the wrong, and take on attitudes and actions consistent with those that would occur if you could confront your wrongdoer. Finally, it would be improper to say that victims suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, amnesia, or some other neurological disease can be reconciled to wrongdoers. Just as forgetting does not count as forgiveness, neither does it count as reconciliation. On the other hand, there seems nothing wrong with victims reconciling with wrongdoers who suffer from the Alzheimer’s. Affirmativereconciliation might be impossible, since returning to the previous relationship is impossible, but one could achieve acceptance-reconciliation and even forgiveness, even if the wrongdoer is incapable of receiving or acknowledging such forgiveness and reconciliation. Like forgiveness, reconciliation is a complex concept that manifests in multiple ways, but it is my hope that the above discussion of interpersonal reconciliation provides clarity, especially for moral agents engaged in the process of forgiveness, attempting to come to terms with how they should be reconciled to their wrongdoers. Requiring reconciliation to affirm prior relationships asks too much of victims, and does not match how “reconciliation” is used in everyday language and communal projects to recover after mass atrocities. So, we should think of reconciliation as occurring on two levels, one of acceptance and one of affirmation. SOCIAL RECONCILIATION The remainder of this chapter will discuss how eirenéism imagines reconciliation occurring on a social level, how reconciliation relates to eirenéism’s goal of the peaceful flourishing of all moral agents, and how to address several issues that arise from this discussion. Reconciliation overlaps substantially with attempts to achieve transitional (i.e., restorative) justice. For instance, truth commissions, like the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa discussed in Chapter 3, are attempts to utilize transitional justice through the process of reconciling citizens. Unlike retributive justice that is concerned with proper punishments, transitional justice is concerned with how to transition from a period of mass (often systemic) wrongdoing to a new state of affairs where such wrongdoing is condemned and civil society is restored. To use an analogy, if I were creating a game, then I would use distributive justice to ensure the rules treat all participants justly. If participants break the rules, then retributive justice would be used to ensure they are

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justly punished. If the participants so abused the rules, or interpreted the rules so as to freely wrong other participants, then restorative justice would be used to change the rules of the game, so we could transition into a new game where participants are treated justly. Instead of using retributive justice to get rid of participates, transitional justice recognizes that if we are to continue to have enough participates to play the game (i.e., to have a productive society), we must find a way of reincorporating participants back into the game. One challenge for transitional justice is to avoid ignoring or discounting the existence of difference and to become imperial with one’s normative guidance. A satisfactory account of justice must take into account the vast differences of beliefs and practices that occur in various communities around the globe, while at the same time not simply devolving into a cultural relativism that lets each community decide what is right and what is just. Eirenéism is such an account of justice, for it asks us to examine the particular needs of people, in order to determine the goods to which they have a right, while also holding communities to the universal standard of respecting the rights of individuals. Eirenéism, however, requires considerable work, if applied properly. It requires a desire and willingness not only to consider the needs of others, but to invest considerable time and energy understanding the needs of others. Though not specifically talking about eirenéism, Miroslav Volf provides a nice illustration of what is required: To agree on justice you need to make space in yourself for the perspective of the other, and in order to make space, you need to want to embrace the other. . . . Embrace is part and parcel of the very definition of justice. I’m not talking about soft mercy tampering harsh justice, but about love shaping the very content of justice. 11

What Volf describes as embrace is affirmative-reconciliation, and is precisely what eirenéism envisions as the goal of justice. The reestablishment of loving friendships, where individuals take interest in one another, loving and caring for each other’s needs, implies a state of affairs where we all flourish. To achieve such a state of affairs, we must be capable of moving beyond the polarities of “us vs. them,” but there is no easy solution for moving beyond such polarities. Most individuals exist in a world where their self-interests are all that matter. This is easily seen in how easy it is to justify performing actions that we consider wrong, especially when someone else performs the same action. For instance, I expect other drivers to follow traffic laws, and to be kind and respectful, but as soon as I am late to work, or need to get in the other lane, I will aggressively break every traffic law that gets in my way; or I expect others to return my lost wallet intact, but when I find someone else’s wallet, I quickly pocket the money before giving it to someone else so I do not have to

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fool with it; or I am against killing, but I love a good war that I have been told will protect my way of life. The justice of eirenéism calls on us to move beyond the narrow-minded polarities that we use to justify our own wrongdoing, toward an envisioning of community with all other moral beings. However, to achieve this vision, we must be able to see beyond our narrow self-interests, and to do this, we must be able to imagine that such a future is possible. As Volf rightly says, “If there is will, courage, and imagination the stark polarity can be overcome.” 12 How might the imagination aid in creating justice? First off, we do not need to imagine a utopia, for eirenéism is not utopian. The peaceful flourishing of eirenéism does not imply a human existence where there is no pain, suffering, or the absence of other difficulties that inhibit flourishing. Instead, it calls on adherents to seek truth and understanding, both as an individual and a communal enterprise. In other words, we are not to lock ourselves away in Ivory Towers, but instead, we are to engage all aspects of life, testing theoretical knowledge with practical engagement, refining and developing a system of knowledge and understanding that promotes flourishing. To quote another wonderful passage from Volf: [We are] free to make journeys from the self to the other and back and to see our common history from their perspective as well as ours, rather than closing ourselves off and insisting on the absolute truth of our own perspective; free to live a truthful life and hence be a self-effacing witness to truth rather than fabricating our own “truths” and imposing them on others; free to embrace others in truth rather than engage in open or clandestine acts of deceitful violence against them. 13

If we are to achieve this sort of peace, we must want it. We must want to embrace the other, to know about their vulnerabilities and needs, to aid them in their journey toward peace. In other words, we must treat them as we love them, not as an emotional response, but as a promise to respect their moral worth and needs. Second, we must be capable of imagining that others are trustworthy. One of the classical case studies in ethics is the Prisoner’s Dilemma, where two participants are engaged in a partial-sum decision-making procedure. Imagine two parties with a decision to either be pacifists and not to go to war, or be aggressors and go to war. The following illustration provides a set of numbers corresponding to the relative positive and negative outcomes. 14 As the graph shows, if both parties choose to cooperate, they each gain a benefit; but because of the negatives associated with being a pacifist and the other an aggressor, both are driven to war, which means both suffer. There are different ways of analyzing the dilemma, but instead of focusing on the human psychological drive to “win,” what I wish to emphasize is the lack of trust that prevents both parties from cooperating. For years, I have

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Agent 2: Pacifist

Agent 1: Pacifist

Agent 1: Aggressor

Peace 5 Peace 5 Reward for mutual cooperation

Victory 10 Defeat -10 Temptation to defect and sucker’s payoff

Agent 2: Victory 10 Aggressor Defeat -10 Temptation to defect and sucker’s payoff

War -5 War -5 Punishment for mutual defection

used a version of Robert Axelrod’s Prisoner’s Dilemma game in my ethics classes, and most recently a version developed by Sinclair MacRae. 15 Students are asked to pretend they have each contributed one million dollars to a pot of winnings, and for each round they are asked to pick any whole number. The trick is that the pot of winnings is divided by the winning number, and the winning number is always the highest number picked. What typically occurs is students begin by picking extremely high numbers so they “win,” not realizing that the higher the number, the less winnings they actually receive. If the pot is ten million, then picking the number ten million might mean that you beat your classmates, but you wind up with only one dollar (ten million divided by ten million). Over time students begin to pick lower numbers, but due to a lack of trust they struggle to pick numbers low enough to maximize their winnings. They simply cannot bring themselves to trust each other, especially if one of them agreed to pick number 1 (the best cooperative option, for if everyone picks it, you get your million back) but instead picked a higher number. Once the trust is broken, it is difficult to gain back, even if you follow some of Axelrod’s ingenious solutions. What can we learn from such games? On one level, they mirror how we often interact with others. We each have a set of friends that we trust to a certain degree, while we distrust most others. We lock our doors, hide our passwords, and protect our secrets from most everyone, including our own friends. We realize how vulnerable we are to having others take advantage of and wrong us, and so we are in a constant struggle to ensure we remain in a protected position of relative power. The same phenomenon occurs on a broader social level and in international politics. The protection of our selfinterests (either real or merely perceived) is all-too-human, but what the Prisoner’s Dilemma shows is that the more we learn to trust, the more we all benefit. Trust, however, requires we move beyond simply doing for ourselves. It requires we open ourselves up, making ourselves vulnerable to others. This opening up is what makes eirenéism a challenging ethic to follow, for it calls on us not to submit to being abused, but instead to be aware of our own and others’ vulnerabilities, and to utilize them in the

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struggle to develop new communities of flourishing reconciled to past wrongdoings, weaknesses, and fears that we all share as fellow humans. Part of achieving the admittedly difficult goal of trusting is learning how to be truthful. We cannot trust others with our vulnerabilities, if we are unwilling to admit the truth about our vulnerabilities. I cannot exhibit religious tolerance, if I am incapable of admitting that my religious beliefs might not be infallible; for if I think my beliefs are infallible, then I must be intolerant to all other beliefs, since they are all wrong. No human is infallible, and no matter how confident one is in their religious beliefs, one is always ignorant of unknown information that would make one’s set of religious beliefs false or in need of adjustment. Once we begin to be truthful about our vulnerabilities, we pave the way for trust, for we recognize we all suffer from many of the same wants, needs, fears, and weaknesses. From this position of vulnerability, we gain perspective and motive to strive to create a community where we can embrace in reconciliation and begin to flourish. Finally, and related to learning to trust, we must use our moral imagination to transition from social norms and policies that perpetuate injustice toward new social structures that ensure justice. Without referencing eirenéism, John Paul Lederach describes what I take to be how eirenéism imagines reconciliation and the flourishing of communities. He says: Transcending violence is forged by the capacity to generate, mobilize, and build the moral imagination. The kind of imagination to which I refer is mobilized when four disciplines and capacities are held together and practiced by those who find their way to rise above violence. Stated simply, the moral imagination requires the capacity to imagine ourselves in a web of relationships that includes our enemies; the ability to sustain a paradoxical curiosity that embraces complexity with reliance on dualistic polarity; the fundamental belief in and pursuit of the creative act; and the acceptance of the inherent risk of stepping into the mystery of the unknown that lies beyond the far too familiar landscape of violence. 16

Lederach describes the process of reconciliation as a creative artistic process, one that “is not linear; it moves around and pops out in all kinds of unexpected ways.” 17 Eirenéism’s strength is that it provides the framework for such a process, allowing those interested in seeking reconciliation an opportunity to find particular “rhythms,” “hues,” and “grooves,” that promote the needs of those engaged and in need of justice. It does not provide a foolproof procedure for determining principles that should govern every society, but instead, provides a vision for how we can use the particularities of each community to transcend wrongdoing. A theory of justice removed from the particularities of local communities will be incapable of meeting the needs of particular communities and individuals. As Alexander Laban Hinton notes, “[J]ustice is always enmeshed with locality and that transitional and other

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justice initiatives are often quite messy and often fail to attend to critical onthe-ground realities, ranging from social structure, to local knowledge, to complex histories, and to the assumptions that underlie such endeavors.” 18 Eirenéism is uniquely equipped for dealing with the particularities of unique local communities, while at the same time protecting the needs of individuals from being trampled by unjust local practices and traditions. EIRENIC RECONCILIATION After stressing eirenéism’s goal of peaceful flourishing, it is tempting to draw the conclusion that eirenéism promotes affirmative-reconciliation as the ideal form of reconciliation, that in the aftermath of wrongdoing, victims should strive to embrace wrongdoers as not mere strangers, but as friends. To draw such a conclusion, however, would be to ignore the particularities of specific wrongdoings and the needs associated with specific acts of reconciliation. Eirenéism’s goal of peace is a placeholder for what occurs when agents living in relation to each other have their needs met. There is no defined conception of “peace” that all agents must strive to achieve. Instead, we must examine and determine what we each can do, in order to define what we each should do. For many, seeking the peace that comes from affirmative-reconciliation will be what brings about the most justice, but for just as many more, the peace that results from acceptance-reconciliation will bring about the most justice. Eirenéism calls on each person, and community, to engage in a careful and thoughtful examination of truth, in regard to wrongdoing and reconciliation, and offers a means through which we can justify and motivate proper moral behavior. Acceptance-reconciliation provides the groundwork for individuals to function in society, while forgiveness provides a means for individuals to achieve a more robust affirmative-reconciliation. Regardless of what individuals or communities determine is most just for them, eirenéism provides the moral framework for them to be successful and to flourish. NOTES 1. Deborah Spitz, “How Much Truth and How Much Reconciliation? Intrapsychic, Interpersonal, and Social Aspects of Resolution,” in Trauma, Truth, and Reconciliation: Healing Damaged Relationships, ed. Nancy Nyquist Potter (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), 133. 2. Ibid. 3. Martha Minow, Between Vengeance and Forgiveness: Facing History after Genocide and Mass Violence (Boston: Beacon Press, 1998). 4. Charles L. Griswold, Forgiveness: A Philosophical Exploration (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 110. 5. Ibid., 47, 49–51; or see the introduction of this book. 6. Ibid., 111.

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7. Martin Luther King, Jr., “Loving Your Enemies,” in Strength to Love (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981), 51. 8. Barrett Emerick, “Forgiveness and Reconciliation,” in The Moral Psychology of Forgiveness, ed. Kathryn Norlock (London and New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2017), 124. 9. Ibid., 125. 10. Miroslav Volf, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World (Grand Rapids, MI, and Cambridge: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2006), 224. 11. Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996), 220. 12. Ibid., 99. 13. Ibid., 272–273. 14. This version of the Prisoner’s Dilemma is borrowed from Steven Pinker’s Pacifist Dilemma, found in: Steven Pinker, The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined (New York: Viking, 2011). 15. Another engaging version of the game can be found in: Sinclair A. MacRae, “The Cooperation Game,” Teaching Philosophy 37, no. 2 (2014): 153–170. 16. John Paul Lederach, The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 5. 17. Ibid., 159. 18. Alexander Laban Hinton, “Introduction,” in Transitional Justice: Global Mechanisms and Local Realities after Genocide and Mass Violence, ed. Alexander Laban Hinton (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2010), 17.

Epilogue

The most difficult aspect of being an ethicist is the fact that we as humans continue to find new and disturbing ways to wrong each other. It sometimes feels as though society has developed such a disdain for ethics that people who practice good ethical reasoning should be made to wear the scarlet letter E. Not to care, and to become unethical, however, is to be cynical about all humanity and indifferent to the suffering and needs of others. Such indifference is unacceptable, for when we become indifferent we allow wrongdoing to flourish. As Joseph Fletcher notes, hatred is not the opposite of love, indifference is; that “the essence of moral guilt lies in the failure or refusal to respond to the needs of others,” and when we do not respond to people’s calls and needs, we become morally blameworthy. 1 Eirenéism is an ethic that does not allow for indifference, either toward our own needs or the needs of others. We are all called to work toward peace, which requires a continual commitment to examining needs, questioning the status quo, and sometimes working outside of our comfort zone so as to ensure we all can enjoy the goods for which we need to flourish. The more we are engaged the better we will understand ourselves, our community, and our world. We will become more knowledgeable about our own needs, rejecting some as false desires, adjusting some to better promote flourishing, and incorporating new ones that better serve our need for peace. It is within this process that eirenéism calls on individuals to rethink the role of forgiveness in contributing to the good life of all moral agents. As demonstrated throughout this book, eirenéism’s normative guidance is not always easy, but normative truths are rarely easy, and as long as the guidance is well grounded and consistent with rational principles and sound intuitions, it should be taken seriously. Nevertheless, when talking to groups about eirenic forgiveness, I often hear the criticism that eirenéism requires 129

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too much from individuals, that it is too demanding. What does it mean to be too demanding? Well, according to William Sim, to avoid being too demanding, a moral theory will simply “not impose excessive demands on an agent. . . .” 2 Is eirenéism guilty of imposing excessive demands? First, not all demandingness is bad. Sim uses moral egoism—the idea that I should seek only that which is good for me—to illustrate a theory that makes no demands of agents, other than “do whatever one desires.” Though not argued by Sim, moral egoism’s complete lack of demandingness suggests that moral egoism is no moral theory at all. A hallmark of generally accepted moral theories is that they call on agents to perform certain actions based on a consistent set of reasons inferred from a basic assumption of value. As a result, moral theories often demand we do (sometimes difficult) things that run counter to our desires. Much of what I have argued throughout the book will run counter to our desires. Victims will not always want to engage in the process of working toward forgiveness, even if it leads to their overall flourishing, and victims will sometimes struggle to see the moral worth of their wrongdoer. The same may also be true for wrongdoers. Ethics, however, is not designed to ensure our desires are met. Even for utilitarians, some desires are preferable to stronger, baser desires. The demands of ethics call on us to achieve what is best or right, and are a good thing; for they produce more flourishing, better character, higher-quality satisfaction, integrity, etc. My second response to the criticism of demandingness is that the criticism is often guilty of overgeneralizing the normative guidance of moral theories. For eirenéism, it is easy for a critic to say, “Eirenéism obligates victims to forgive in all cases,” without noting that eirenéism only suggests such guidance in relation to the complex particularities of individual cases. Eirenéism does not allow hurling moral dictates from upon high, but instead, requires we put ourselves in the situation of being victim and wrongdoer. As a result of this intimate moralizing, we must recognize the difference between external and internal moral demands. To make sense of this, consider Sim’s “whole-life” concept that requires ethical analysis to remember how particular moral agents develop in particular communities. Each community develops and internalizes their own set of moral standards, which are then inculcated in each member of that community. As a result, outsiders of the community might perceive certain moral demands as too great, while members of the particular moral community view the same demands as no greater than any other basic moral demand. The key for such a whole-life approach is to carefully examine the moral demands of each community in question to accurately determine what is too demanding. Eirenéism calls on us to do the same for all moral needs. To illustrate Sim’s “whole-life” approach, think of the French village of Le Chambon, where a set of individuals who lived according to what they perceived as an “easy” moral demand refused to aid the Nazis in the slaugh-

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ter of Jews. For the people of Le Chambon, loving one’s neighbor means you do not turn them over to people intent on hurting them. Yet, when we as outsiders look at Le Chambon we are enthralled with their heroism, often thinking they did more than we would be capable of. A “whole-life” approach asks us to consider the particular moral needs and abilities of individuals, so when attempting to determine what a person ought to do, we take into account their communally developed strengths and weaknesses. We personalize them, developing moral guidance that benefits their particular needs. This is a strength of eirenéism, and it is one of the main reasons it successfully grounds a rights-based ethic of forgiveness. As a result of the communal nature of rights and obligations, my third response is to suggest that the moral demands of eirenéism are ameliorated by the requirement that communities be involved in forgiveness and reconciliation. Much of this occurs naturally, as friends and community members protect victims and provide outlets for them to release frustration and come to terms with how they have been wronged. Instead of an atomistic approach to personal responsibility, which only feeds the moral demandingness criticism, eirenéism supports a shared responsibility where individuals must work collectively to resolve systemic injustices. They must foster an atmosphere where victims are taken seriously, protected, and supported in their journey to make grievances known and to heal. Eirenéism does not require individuals to be moral angels, nor does it allow them to sit back and do nothing. It requires careful, thorough, and compassionate consideration of the moral needs of all inherently worthy beings, and it provides calls to action, so that all parties involved may flourish. In this way, eirenéism is no different than other moral theories. Where it differs most is in its goal—the just and peaceful flourishing of all moral agents. So, eirenéism is not too demanding, unless one wishes an ethic that allows for indifference toward the needs of others and oneself. THE ARGUMENT AS IT STANDS Describing and justifying eirenic forgiveness has required introducing eirenéism as a newly developed moral theory based on ancient principles. As a result, I can imagine there are many places for readers to take issue. Nevertheless, if one accepts eirenéism’s basic claim that all moral agents are inherently worthy, and that this worth creates a relationship of rights and obligations between agents, then any disagreement can be overcome. If one rejects (or is unwilling to consider) the notion of inherent worth, and how such worth grounds a theory of rights, then much of what I have said will have fallen on deaf ears. It is my hope that if you have made it this far, then what I have said has had the ring of truth and that you (at most) are worried over

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details and particular conceptual points. So, in hopes of bringing some final clarity, here is a review of my argument. In Chapter 1 I developed eirenéism as a theory of rights dedicated to bringing about the just and peaceful flourishing of all moral agents. Assuming humans have inherent moral worth, this worth grounds a set of corollary rights and obligations. Since eirenéism is concerned with human flourishing, I argued that the life-goods to which humans have rights are the things that humans need in order to flourish. I developed an account of need that shows humans have a right not only to physical needs, but also communal and psychological needs. When individuals have a right to some need, then all others who are capable of making those needs available are required to do so. No matter the life-good, whether food, protection, basic health care, or forgiveness, if we are capable of making said good available, then we are obligated to do so. I concluded Chapter 1 by presenting readers with the argument for why victims, as the only ones who can forgive wrongdoers, are obligated to forgive, when forgiveness is a life-good. Chapter 2, then, detailed what it means for forgiveness to be a life-good. A wrongdoer cannot simply say, “I need to be forgiven.” Instead, wrongdoers must intentionally engage in the transformative act of genuine repentance, and it is through this process that wrongdoers can make forgiveness necessary for their flourishing. When this occurs, in order to protect victims from being further wronged, eirenéism utilizes concepts such as self-respect to ensure the needs of victims are respected too. As a result, eirenéism avoids the repugnant implication by allowing the obligation to forgive to manifest as an obligation to work toward being able to forgive, when victims are incapable of doing so. With the fear of the repugnant implication resolved, I turned the focus to three major conceptual issues. Chapter 3 discussed the possibility of unforgivable acts, since the existence of unforgivable acts would negate the obligation to forgive. One cannot forgive something that is unforgivable. I argued that no interpersonal acts of wrongdoing should ever be considered unforgivable. There are times when physical barriers inhibit forgiveness, and when victims are incapable of forgiving, but neither event makes an act or wrongdoer unforgivable. In fact, since wrongdoers and acts are the things that are unforgivable, the concept of unforgivable should only apply to them, and if it only applies to them, then wrongdoers gain too much power over victims when determining when they can forgive. To avoid giving wrongdoers too much power over victims, and to promote positive moral attitudes in victims, I suggested we reject the concept of the unforgivable. To illustrate that no act or person is unforgivable, and to further illustrate how eirenéism provides moral guidance, Chapter 3 presented a detailed analysis of three types of wrongdoing (stealing, rape/torture, and genocide/mass atrocities). In each, I showed how eirenéism asks victims to engage in the process of

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forgiveness, never giving in to the temptation to label someone or something “unforgivable,” so victims can eventually achieve some sort of peace in the aftermath of their suffering. The second part of Chapter 3 examined whether revenge was more just than forgiveness and whether a victim’s right to revenge ever overrides forgiveness. I showed that forgiveness not only meets the requirements of justice, but in all cases of civil society, forgiveness produces the most amount of justice, for all. Therefore, forgiveness is always preferable to revenge. Chapter 4 considered alternative explanations to the two-party obligation to forgive presented in Chapter 2. I used Nicholas Wolterstorff’s argument for a third-party obligation to God to forgive as a counter-explanation, suggesting that such an argument is available (and possibly preferable) to some theists, but its acceptance at best weakens eirenéism, and at worst, undercuts eirenéism’s principle of correlatives. Without the need to avoid the repugnant implication, the explanatory force of Wolterstorff’s religious obligation is weakened. After examining several other religious accounts of forgiveness, I argued that if we wish to maintain the strong conception of rights found in eirenéism, then we should leave aside complicating religious explanations, and accept the two-party set of rights and obligations detailed in Chapters 1 and 2, even for forgiveness. I ended the book by discussing the nature of reconciliation and how it relates to eirenic forgiveness. Though there appears to be no unique form of eirenic reconciliation, eirenéism does motivate individuals and communities to work toward some sort of either acceptance- or affirmative-reconciliation. Furthermore, one of eirenéism’s advantages is that it not only allows for, but promotes the type of deeply engaged, culturally specific strategies for achieving a reconciliation that does not merely sweep away past wrongdoings, but calls on citizens to actively embrace, remember, and come to terms with wrongdoing. ***

I know that some will criticize my project for not offering a definition of forgiveness, but as mentioned in the Introduction, I only care about discussing how inherently worthy individuals can flourish by participating in a certain set of activities, activities that many of us would point to and say, “Look, that is forgiveness.” Because we have all been wronged, and we have all wronged, we know for the most part what forgiveness is and we know how difficult it can be to achieve. We do not necessarily need another definition of forgiveness, but we do need guidance for when we ought to seek forgiveness, for when we ought to refrain from forgiveness, for when we should reconcile or not be reconciled, or as my friend Harakh Maru explains the Jainist proverb of forgiveness, for how we can stand eyelash to eyelash

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again with those whom we have harmed and those who have harmed us? In other words, we need an ethic that can give us the normative clarity required for promoting the peace that results from the practice of genuine justice, and because we live in a world where humans are inventively evil, this ethic must be capable of explaining how to respond and heal after wrongdoing. Eirenéism provides for both of these needs, making forgiveness more than simply a desire or benefit for victims and wrongdoers, but instead, framing forgiveness as a needed right, something required for the flourishing of all victims, the flourishing of all wrongdoers, and yes, the flourishing of all human community. NOTES 1. Joseph Fletcher, Moral Responsibility: Situation Ethics at Work (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1967), 233–234. 2. William Sim, “Internalization and Moral Demands,” Philosophical Studies 157 (2012): 164.

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Index

abjection, 33 agent-dimension, 98 anger, xi, xx, 13, 52, 65, 74, 75, 115, 118, 119 apology, 48–49, 64, 67, 91 Arendt, Hannah, 101 atrocity, 66, 114 Bell, MacAlester, 51 Benditt, Theodore M., 36, 37, 76 blame, xxii blameworthy, 129 Bock, Gregory L., 103 Buddhism, xii, 101, 107, 109 Butler, Joseph, xii Camosy, Charles C., xx capabilities, xii, xix, 10, 11–12, 13, 72, 108 capabilities approach, 10, 11 charity, xiv, 31 Christian/Christianity, ix, x, xii, xix, xx, 24–25, 28, 29–30, 31, 51, 87, 88, 101–103, 104, 110 Christo, Gus George, 30 Chrysostom, St. John, 30 compassion, xi, 6, 14, 38, 41, 43, 54, 58, 59, 63, 66, 69, 99, 104–105, 107–108, 108, 131 Confucianism, 108–109 consequentialist, x, xvii, 1–2, 3, 7, 65–66, 79

contractual, xii, xv, 5, 98 contrition, 24, 30, 31 Darwall, Stephen, 37 Derrida, Jacques, ix Des Pres, Terrence, 68 desire, xi, xx, xxi, 2, 7–8 desire satisfaction, 7, 8, 9 Dilman, Iham, 27 Drakulić, Slavenka, 81 duty, xii, xiii, xv, 89–90, 92; of charity, xi, 92, 94–95, 96, 100, 110; ethics, xii; to forgive, xi, 90, 92; imperfect, 89–90 eirenéism, x, xi, xiii, xiv–xviii, xix–xx, 1–5, 6–7, 8–9, 10, 11–13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18–19, 21, 22, 24, 25–27, 34–36, 38, 39, 41, 42–44, 47, 48, 52, 53–57, 58–59, 60, 63–64, 65–66, 68, 69, 72–73, 76, 78, 79, 80–81, 82–83, 83n10, 84n23, 87–88, 90, 92, 93 Emerick, Barrett, 118–119 enjoyment, 8, 9, 39, 42, 96 eudaimonism, 1, 14 excuse, xxii, 60 Fletcher, Joseph, 129 flourishing, x, xi, xiv–xv, xvii, 1–2, 7, 8, 9–10, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 20n21, 27, 30, 38–39, 42–43, 52, 54, 55–57, 58, 59, 60, 64–65, 66, 72, 73, 80, 82–83, 141

142

Index

95–97, 98–100, 104, 105, 109, 110, 113, 121, 123, 125, 126, 129, 130, 131, 132, 134 forgiveness: eirenic, xiv, xv–xvii, xviii, 2, 22, 23, 39, 40, 47, 48, 64, 72, 90, 92, 100, 107, 109, 110, 129, 131, 133; feminist, xi; a gift, xii, 35–36; interpersonal, xviii, 48, 104, 113; obligation to, x, xii, xiii, xv, xvi, 3, 16, 22, 24, 43–44, 52, 54, 60, 63, 64–65, 66, 68, 69, 72–75, 78, 80, 87–88, 89, 92, 93, 94, 97, 101, 104, 107, 109, 110, 132, 133; paradigmatic, xi, xxi, 117; political, 49; true, xii, xxi; utilitarian, xi, 89; work(ing) toward, xv, xviii, 16–17, 42, 44, 65, 69, 72, 80, 82, 106, 116, 132 forgiving, xiii, xv, xvii, xviii, xxii, 2, 16–17, 19, 36, 42, 44, 48, 49, 50, 60, 65, 67, 68–69, 72, 80, 82, 90, 92, 94, 96, 97, 100, 103, 106, 107, 108, 120, 132 Frankel, Estelle, 29, 33 French, Peter, 72, 73–74, 75, 76–78, 79, 80 friendship, 5, 6, 13, 14, 59, 114–115, 116, 117 Garrard, Eve, 26, 51–52 genocide, 26, 35, 52, 66, 67, 69, 77, 132 God, xi, xii, xvi, xviii, xix, 6, 24, 29, 29–30, 31, 34, 87, 90, 91, 92–98, 100, 101–108, 109–110, 133 good, non-derivative, 9 Gould, Carol C., xix Govier, Trudy, 52 Griswold, Charles, xi, xx, xxi, 48–49, 116, 117 Haber, Joram G., xx, xxii, 40 Hampton, Jean, ix hatred, xi, xx, xxi, 13, 32, 33, 34, 50, 65, 66, 72, 74–75, 76, 115, 129 Havel, Václav, 81 Hinton, Alexander Laban, 125–126 Holmgren, Margaret R., xi, 32, 38 Hughes, Paul M., xx imagination, ix, 11, 114, 123, 125

Islam, xii, 25, 28, 30–31, 101, 104, 106, 107 Jankélévitch, Vladimir, ix Jesus of Nazareth, xii, xx, 30, 46n57, 101–102, 103 Judaism, xii, 25, 28–31, 101, 104–106 just state of affairs, xiv, 42, 55, 75, 82, 104 justice, xvi, xxi, 1, 3, 15, 16, 29–31, 35–36, 38–41, 43, 44, 46n57, 53, 62, 69, 73, 75–76, 77, 81, 82, 96–97, 103, 104–106, 122, 125, 126, 133, 134; distributive, 121; reprobative, 40–41, 78; restorative, 29, 72, 121–122; retributive, xvi, 39–40, 62, 72, 74, 75, 78, 103, 104, 121, 122; transitional, 121–122, 125 Kahn, Leonard, xviii Kant, Immanuel, 89–90 Ketcham, Christopher, 107–108 King Jr., Martin Luther, 117 Konstan, David, ix Kraybill, Donald, 102–103 Kristeva, Julia, 33–34 Lambert, David A., 31 Lederach, John Paul, 125 Levenson, Laurie L., 104–105 life-good, xiii–xiv, 2–3, 4, 6–7, 9, 11–14, 15, 16–18, 22, 23, 24–25, 26, 27, 32, 34, 35, 36, 38, 42–44, 53–56, 58, 59, 60, 63, 64, 65, 66, 68, 82, 88–89, 90, 92, 93, 94–95, 96, 97, 98–101, 106, 109, 110, 132; generating, 23; obligation-generating, 88, 89, 91, 92, 95 life-history good, 3 Locke, John, 73–74 love, xviii, 5–6, 13, 24–25, 36, 48, 49, 57, 70, 72, 75, 91, 95, 102, 103, 104, 115, 116, 122, 123, 129 MacIntyre, Alasdair, 7, 8, 12 MacRae, Sinclair A., 124 Maimonides, Moses, 29 Michnik, Adam, 81 Middleton, David, 36, 37 Minow, Martha, 61, 69, 115 Morton, Adam, xxii

Index murder, xviii, 48, 63, 66, 67, 68, 76 Murphy, Jeffrie G., xi, 51, 62 natural preferables, 12, 13, 99 needs: fundamental, 2, 8–10; vital, 7, 8, 13 Nolt, Steven, 102 non-consequentialism, x, xvii, 1–2, 3, 15, 65–66, 89 non-theistic, xix, xx, 25, 32, 91 Norlock, Kathryn, xi, xxi, 23, 47 Null, Ashley, 30 Nussbaum, Martha C., 10–12 O’Brien, J. Randall, 102 obligation, x, xii, xv, xvi, 3, 16, 22, 24, 43–44, 52, 54, 60, 63, 64–65, 66, 68, 69, 72–75, 78, 80, 87–88, 89, 92, 93, 94, 97, 101, 104, 107, 109, 110, 132, 133; religious, xvi, xviii, 88, 104, 109, 133; third-party, xi, 87, 88, 90, 91, 92, 94, 97–98, 100, 110, 133; two-party, 90, 92, 97, 101, 110, 133 Pettigrove, Glen, 32, 50 Pojman, Louis, 74–75 praiseworthy, xxi, 4, 52 preference-satisfaction, 12, 89 principle of correlatives, 4, 17, 18, 36, 39, 54–55, 88, 92, 93, 98, 101, 110, 133 prisoner’s dilemma, 123, 124 psychic wholeness, 33, 34

143

remorse, ix, 24, 26, 27–29, 30, 36, 44n6, 64 repentance, genuine, xiv, xv, 23, 25–26, 30, 31, 63, 132 repugnant implication, xv, xvi, 18–19, 21, 23–24, 35, 36, 43–44, 60, 88, 100, 110, 132, 133 resentment, ix, xi, xx, xxi, 39–40, 47, 49, 65, 80, 115, 119 responsibility, xiii, xvi, xxii, 10, 26, 31, 32, 67, 81–82, 113, 131 retribution, 17, 62, 74, 81, 115 revenge, ix, xi, xvi, xx, xxi, 44, 47, 69, 73, 74, 75–78, 79, 80–81, 113, 133 right: inherent natural, xiv, 78, 97–98, 104, 110; natural, 74, 77, 78, 97–98, 104, 110 right order theorist, 97, 98 right-generating, 25, 27 Scarre, Geoffrey, xi, xxii Schimmel, Solomon, 29, 31 self-respect, xv, xx, 24, 36, 37–38, 39–41, 82, 132 shalom, xiii, xix, 4, 95–96, 97, 104, 105 shared responsibility, 81, 85n66, 113, 131 Siddiqui, Mona, 106 Sim, William, 130 Singer, Peter, xix, xx Spitz, Deborah, 114 stoics, 13 supererogatory, 50, 54, 89, 90

Qur’an, xii, 106–107 rape, 35, 50, 52, 61–62, 63, 64, 66, 67, 70–71, 76, 77, 132 Rawls, John, 1 Reader, Soran, 7 rebirth, 33, 34 recipient-dimension, 54, 98 reconciliation, 78, 81, 83, 83n12, 101–102, 110, 113–116, 117–119, 120–121, 125, 126, 131, 133; acceptance, 113, 116–117, 118, 119–121, 126; affirmative, 113, 117–120, 122, 126, 133 regret, xxi, 24, 26, 27–28, 31, 36, 44n6, 59, 74

TANG, Man-to, 108 teshuvah, 29, 105 Thomas, Laurence M., 79 Thomson, Garrett, 8–9, 10 torture, 35, 50–51, 52, 61, 62, 67, 70–71, 120–121, 132 trust, 23, 48, 53, 58, 76, 91, 114, 115, 116, 120, 123–125 Tutu, Desmond Mpilo, 70, 71, 72 unforgiveable, xii, xvi, 26, 44, 47–52, 57, 58–60, 64, 73, 82, 132–133 vengeance, xvi, 71, 72, 73–76, 77, 78, 79, 81, 82–83, 115, 117 Voiss, James K., 101–102

144 Volf, Miroslav, 6, 51, 103, 122–123 vulnerability, 6, 13, 14, 31, 43, 99, 125 Walker, Margaret Urban, 62, 65 Weaver-Zercher, David, 102 well-being, 9, 10, 13, 17, 32, 38–39, 75, 81, 95 well-being goods, 12, 13 Wiesenthal, Simon, 66–69

Index Wiggins, David, 7 Wolfendale, Jessica, xii, 52, 78–81 Wolterstorff, Nicholas, x–xi, 4, 12–13, 16, 23, 39, 43, 56, 78, 87–90, 92, 94, 95–96, 97–99, 100, 101 Wood, Ralph C., 102 Yancey, Philip, 62 Young, Iris Marion, 81

About the Author

Court D. Lewis received his PhD from the University of Tennessee, and due to his passion for teaching, serves as associate professor and program coordinator of philosophy and religious studies at Owensboro Community College. He specializes in ethics, justice and forgiveness, and the philosophical examination of popular culture. He has contributed to several academic and popular collections, including Vernon Press’s series on The Philosophy of Forgiveness. Court lives in Owensboro, KY, with his wife Jenny and son Elliott Storm. He is a regularly invited guest speaker at local and national events, speaking on forgiveness and the importance of living an engaged life dedicated to achieving peace. In his spare time, he is a musician, artist, gardener, camper, and volunteer.

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