Craliger is a reformed rapist, who knows that he cannot possibly undo the horrendous wrong that he did to the 18 year-old, call her Nataminine, whom he raped some ten years ago. He is not pretending that such a thing is even possible. Still, he is not the man that he once was. Craliger set up a foundation, called MARV (Men Against Rape Violence), the aim of which is to educate men regarding their sexist attitudes towards women by drawing attention to the profound ways in which the violence of rape is tied to the vulnerability men; and it is he who opens each meeting with a most poignant account of his past and transformation. This Craliger has been doing for 10 years. It goes without saying that Craliger talks about the wrong that he did without mentioning Nataminine’s name.
Now Nataminine, who is still wrestling with her pain owing to have been raped by Craliger, learns about MARV and the role of Craliger in it. She can show up at a MARV convention and mightily denounce Craliger. She can, as it were, put flesh and bones upon the account that he tells of his life and the wrong of rape that he committed. Yet, she knows there is nothing that she would say that would add in content to Craliger’s account; for she learns that in no way does his account of matters diminish the wrong that he committed. Quite the contrary, his account is eye-opening even to her, as he proffers details that indeed reveal just how vicious a man that he was. She could go on being bitter at him because nothing he does will change the fact that he raped her and damaged her considerably. As it happens, she is being given all the psychological help that she needs and financially she is as well-off as a person could be. So it is not as if there is anything that Craliger could do to make a difference—though it goes without saying that if he could, then Craliger would. No doubt I should mention that he had sent her a profound letter of contrition years before he had started MARV. Understandably, perhaps, Nataminine threw away the letter away in disgust and outrage.
Do I think that Craliger is morally entitled to forgiveness from Nataminine? Absolutely not. On the other hand, I think that her forgiving him would be a most majestic instance of forgiveness as righteousness. There are various possibilities here. One is that she lacks the psychological wherewithal to forgive him, because she remains too scared. Another is that she simply wants to hold a grudge against him. It should be pointed out here that even if there is nothing whatsoever that Craliger could possibly do that would diminish the wrong that he did, it does not follow from this truth that it does not matter at all how he went on to live. He could, for instance, deny the wrong that he did. Even worse, he could claim that she deserved to be so wronged; and in keeping with that, he could go around boasting of what he did. That would be objectionable in and of itself. So whatever it is that one thinks of Craliger and MARV, it is absolutely not morally insignificant that this is the route that he took. Besides, we may not use the wrongs that have been done to us as an excuse to distort or diminish the moral good that another does. Thus, not even Nataminine’s moral pain allows her to claim that what Craliger is doing is insignificant.
Of course, it does not follow from anything that has just been said that Nataminine is under an obligation to forgive Craliger. Still, it turns out that there some significant moral constraints that apply to her; for she may not use her moral pain as an excuse to diminish the good that he is doing. Nonetheless, there is a difference between, on the one hand, not diminishing the good that another is doing and, on the other, affirming it. In order not to diminish the good that Craliger is doing, Nataminine need only to keep her mouth shut. When his name comes up she listens quietly or discreetly leaves the room. And if this is all that she ever does, then it follows that she is not in any way diminishing the good that he is doing. Yet, there is a tremendous good that she can do: She can affirm the good that he is doing by forgiving him. This would be a righteous act. It would be an affirmation of his transformation that would be quite unlike the affirmation that could come from any other person, as it would be an acknowledgement that she, whose trust he so brutally breached, found him trustworthy again. No other person on the face of the earth is in the position to offer this depth of affirmation. None of the men whose lives he touches; none of the women who are grateful for the transformation on his part that enables him to touch the lives of men in this way. And if she were to forgive him publicly that would be all the more dramatic. For her life would bear witness to the possibility that trust again is possible; and that would undoubtedly serve to liberate many a woman suffering from the damage of rape.
Still, what we would have in this case is not any form of restoration. Craliger has not repaired anything. However, Nataminine has looked beyond that to the enormous good that he is doing. And she has found the strength to affirm that. I take the majesty of what she has done to be self-evident. The forgiveness that gives rise to the affirmation stems not from servility on Nataminine’s part or a refusal to acknowledge the depth of the wrong that Craliger did. There is no self-denial at play. Nonetheless, her forgiveness did require considerable moral fortitude. It required the wherewithal to look beyond her own pain and acknowledge that Craliger was doing a considerable good and he was doing so with earnestness and purity of heart. Yet, her forgiveness of him, in constituting an affirmation of him that none other can give, stands as a moral power of the highest magnitude that she thereby exercises.
Some concluding remarks are in order. The first is the unfortunate truth that few people own up to the horrendous wrongs that they have done in the way that Craliger is portrayed as having done. All the same, forgiveness as righteousness requires this high level of moral excellence. Even on the view that forgiveness as righteousness is a gift, there is still the truth that a person can fail to merit a gift. No matter how much a person might want a Steinway piano, it would not be appropriate to give a person one as a gift if the individual has not a clue as to how to play the piano. This would be true regardless of how much money the would-be-gift giver should have at her or his disposal.
I have talked about forgiveness with regard to a very personal violation. But I have done so with some very profound social harms in mind, such as Apartheid and the Holocaust. It has become commonplace these days to define ethnic pride or self-respect in such a way that having these goods is incompatible with forgiving. Indeed, the willingness to forgive is all but characterized as a moral flaw. Undoubtedly, a person can be a little too willing to forgive, but we do not have a case of that here.
My assumption is as follows: If forgiveness as righteousness on Nataminine’s part is plausible in the case of Craliger—as surely it is, then it is manifestly false that forgiveness as righteousness with respect to racial injustice portends a lack of either self-respect or ethnic pride. I do not believe in comparing evils. But I cannot think of a more indicative of moral depravity than the following: “I would take brutal rape any day over racism”.
In any event, the point is this. It is not possible to hold that a self-respecting Nataminine can forgive a Craliger, but insist that a self-respecting black cannot forgive a white for racism or a self-respecting Jew cannot forgive a Nazi for anti-Semitism or a self-respecting Irishman cannot forgive English Protestants for religious persecution, where in each of these cases the offender has gone on to do tremendous good publicly using his sordid past as a moral catalyst. For just as Nataminine may not use her moral pain as an excuse to distort the good that Craliger is doing, it holds in general that people may not the use wrongs that they have suffered as an excuse to distort or diminish the good of others, including those who were once utterly lacking in virtue. Whatever self-respect or ethnic pride may come to: either is but an illusion of inner-strength if either serves as an excuse for diminishing the good that others do.
Finally, the very nature of righteousness at its best is that it accomplishes what it does while far exceeding all plausible moral demands that can be made. In a city of angels, there would be none but the righteousness. Accordingly, trust would be a part of the very fabric of everyone’s life. Presumably, everyone would be constituted so as to be trustworthy. Or, in any case, being trustworthy would so very much a part of everyone’s character that it would be second nature to all. There would be no violations of trust with which anyone would have to contend. There would be no scars owing to having been caught off-guard. However, in the less than idyllic setting of reality, trust violated is an ever-present concern. What is more, few who violate the trust of another ever come even remotely close to earning again. But if such a person should have the fortitude to do so, then the simple truth of the matter is that there is no affirmation quite like the acknowledgement, from the one whom he had wronged, to the effect that he is again trustworthy. To be in the position to offer or withhold such enormous affirmation is have considerable power with respect to a person’s life. And just as nothing will ever detract from the suffering that anyone had endured, it is also true that suffering that a person has endured will not change the reality that the person wronged is now in the position either to offer or to withhold affirmation that a person who had once been untrustworthy has proven himself trustworthy again.
In any given context, the worse thing is not to possess the power to make a difference for the better. The next worse thing is having that power and not being willing to use it. And precisely what distinguishes the righteous person from the ordinary person is that the former never allows his pain alone to be an excuse not to do what is good. Far from being a sign of weakness, forgiveness as righteousness bespeaks a fortitude of character exceeded only by the gods—if, that is, there should be any.
