Extraordinary Forgiveness

Extraordinary Forgiveness Jennifer Vanderheyden Abstract How does one forgive such evil acts as those perpetrated during a genocide, acts that Hannah Arendt famously referred to as ‘extreme evil?’ The words ‘never again’ uttered after the Holocaust of the Jews fell silent in the horror of ensuing genocides, including the 1994 genocide in Rwanda. As I write, ethnic cleansing and massacres continue to stain humanity. Yet, extraordinarily, some survivors find a way of not only transcending the pain, but also of forgiving their perpetrators. How does one let go of the resentment and pain that result from such incomprehensible acts of evil? My intention in this chapter is not to establish a comprehensive definition of forgiveness, nor to offer a set protocol for its process. Rather, I would simply like to examine the complexities of the extraordinary forgiveness involved when confronted with such incomprehensible evil. After examining various historical definitions of forgiveness, followed by examples of individual struggles to forgive such atrocities, I hope to demonstrate that forgiveness by analogy could assist in understanding that which is beyond reason. Key Words: Forgiveness, extreme evil, genocide, Rwanda, Holocaust, Hannah Arendt, Simon Wiesenthal, The Sunflower, survivor, perpetrator, Rwanda, reconciliation, justice, Lyotard, trauma, génocidaires. ***** I stand at the entrance of the small Nyamata Catholic church in the Rwandan town, a church that must have once been a source of peace and refuge for the local struggling population. But not that day. That day they took refuge, thousands of them, stacking themselves into the space and piling up against the doors. The bullet holes visible at the entrance were merely a prelude to the grenade explosions, and the bent steel doors give witness to the blast. The door opens: piles of clothing sit on the pews where the faithful had once prayed. And sang. And possibly danced. Now the clothes and belongings, wrinkled from dried blood and twenty years of dust bear witness to futile prayers. Dark stains on the walls testify for the innocent babies thrown against the bricks like soccer balls. A large crucifix lies on the altar, its use transformed as an instrument of rape. We then descend a small stairway into a narrow room with a museum quality display case. Rows of skulls still scream the agony and terror of the machete. I stare at their cracks and holes, clinically observing the traces of unspeakable pain. My knees buckle as I slowly climb back up the stairs. 2 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ I wrote the above description after visiting Rwanda in June, 2013, during which I attended lectures regarding the 1994 genocide, organized by my friend Dr. Rangira Béa Gallimore – whose mother, sister, three brothers and many extended members of her family were brutally murdered during the genocide – for her study abroad program at the University of Missouri. Twenty years later the terror and inhumane brutality of the slaughter of over one million people loom over the land like oil oozing from its underground river of pain. Yet, extraordinarily, some survivors find a way of not only transcending the pain, but also of forgiving their perpetrators. How does one let go of the resentment and pain that result from such an incomprehensible act of evil? How is forgiveness possible when, as social psychologist and researcher Assumpta Mugiraneza said, they are still ‘swimming in the genocide?’ 1 Deciding to study the Holocaust of the Jews in order to help her attempt to understand her own country’s genocide, Mugiraneza concludes that there is a major difference in what she characterizes as Rwanda’s ‘genocide of proximity.’ 2 That is, neighbours looking neighbours in the eyes and brutalizing them as they begged for mercy, and now in post-genocide Rwanda perpetrators living side by side with survivors. How can forgiveness be possible, yet in many ways a requisite for reconciliation in such intimate yet distant proximity? Another speaker for Dr. Gallimore’s study abroad program, Reverend Antoine Rutayisire, stated that, as a survivor of the genocide, for him to forgive he must ‘give back humanity to the perpetrator,’ 3 but how can such evil be considered human? The sign on the front of the Nyamata church highlights this distant yet proximate inhumanity: ‘If you knew me, and you really knew yourself, you would not have killed me’ (translated from Kinya-rwanda). I interpret the concept of giving back humanity to the perpetrator as one of understanding that the evil act itself does not represent the entire person, a point to which I will later return. My intention in this chapter is not to establish a comprehensive definition of forgiveness, nor to offer a set protocol for its process. Rather, I would simply like to examine the complexities of the extraordinary forgiveness involved when confronted with such incomprehensible evil. By so doing, I hope to demonstrate that, following Assumpta Mugiraneza’s method of studying the Holocaust in order to better understand Rwanda’s genocide, forgiveness by analogy could assist in understanding that which is beyond reason. As Sally Nadeau discusses in this volume, for those survivors who remain in Rwanda, reconciliation and unity are essential components of the on-going social, political and financial progress.4 During our stay in Rwanda, we were able to observe directly this progress. For example, immediately following our visit to the Nyamata Memorial, we stopped at a near-by village where perpetrators and survivors appear to find a way to live together peacefully. It was nightfall by then, and we sat in a semi-circle on low benches as the obligatory smoke to deter mosquitoes filled the air, along with the laughter of children playing nearby. Three perpetrators of the genocide each took their turn speaking to us: having been Jennifer Vanderheyden 3 ________________________________________________________________ released upon their confessions after nine years of imprisonment, they spoke of reconciliation, and, for me, blamed a bit too conveniently and easily the leaders and organizers of the genocide. The details of their crimes were not discussed and, with the exception of one man, I did not sense that their apology, empathy, or complete understanding of their horrific actions were sincere, certainly a major component of the forgiveness process. In contrast, one survivor’s story was especially emotionally moving: she told of how she and her family resumed living in the house where, unbeknownst to them, her brother had been killed, his body chopped in pieces which were then thrown into the very toilet they were using. Juxtaposed with the visions of the gruesome massacre at the church and the mass graves on its grounds, the perpetrators’ blaming of the leaders and their propaganda indeed seemed too opportune and in fact an additional propagandist manipulation. One could theoretically be incited to kill, I thought, but these heinous acts were beyond my comprehension, even as an outsider, acts I could not imagine forgiving. Thus began my novice journey into the complexities of forgiveness. Before discussing these components of forgiveness, the essential differences between forgiveness and reconciliation after genocide should be noted. Victim advocate and human rights activist Martine Beckers, who lost her sister, niece and brother-in-law during the genocide, speaks of the victim’s process of finding inner peace as a step toward the reconciliation process. She first describes individual reconciliation pre-trauma as the ability ‘to reconcile oneself with oneself, to create a space for peaceful and serene emotional thoughts, without burdening contradictions.’ 5 Yet, after such trauma as genocide, she questions whether the victim can ever achieve this state within, let alone to the point of reconciling with the perpetrator and ‘human beings at large.’6 However, whether the survivors of the genocide have personally forgiven the génocidaires or not, if they are to function in their community, live among perpetrators without committing acts of revenge, they might choose reconciliation for the general cohesion of the whole. As Nelson Mandela famously stated upon his release from prison, ‘I knew that if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison.’ 7 Desmond Tutu has also referred to forgiveness as ‘practical politics.’ 8 I would suggest that this type of apparent and often genuine unity comprises a part of the reconciliation process because of its practicality, consisting of many levels. As Martine Beckers also points out, various cultural stereotypes influence the reconciliation process: The Rwandan cultural background emphasizes values such as self-control, pride, dignity. Consequently, no one is supposed to express anger, unhappiness, and sorrow except under very specific conditions. On one hand, these unexpressed traumatizing 4 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ emotions are increasing their trauma and on the other hand, westerners are often misunderstanding it.9 Beckers also emphasizes that survivors are a minority of the population. Thus, on the surface, we as Westerners might be under the impression that reconciliation also implies forgiveness, but the subject is much more complex. Choosing unity may not necessarily signify that the victims have forgiven the atrocity of genocide, but rather that they portray a unified front in the hope of preventing another. As Sarah Gendron discusses in her chapter in this volume, although we observed many efforts and declarations of unity during our trip to Rwanda, we still discerned an underlying yet hushed energy of tension, which certainly validates Beckers’ comments above.10 The concept of forgiveness has been the subject of much study during the latter part of the twentieth century and continuing into the 21st. In his essay titled ‘What is Forgiveness,’ in the book Ancient Forgiveness, Adam Morton proposes the description of the concept as the ‘forgiveness territory’ rather than attempting to theorize an exact and limited definition.11 In Morton’s words, this territory involves a family of emotions, resentment-like emotions of the forgiver, abasement-like or repentance-like emotions of the forgiven, and a process of transition joining them, in the course of which reconciliation-like emotions can occur on both sides.12 As literature on the Rwandan genocide as well as survivor testimonies indicate, this territory of forgiveness covers so many areas, both known and unknown, that include divine forgiveness, interpersonal forgiveness, self-forgiveness, inter-group forgiveness, political forgiveness, institutional forgiveness, international or global forgiveness, and Third-Party Forgiveness–areas further complicated by the ‘territory’ of the pure evil of the crimes. The etymological origin of the English verb ‘to forgive’ is the old English word ‘forgiefan,’ broken down as ‘for;’ or ‘completely’ and ‘giefan;’ or ‘give.’ 13 According to David Konstan, co-editor of Ancient Forgiveness, the Greek equivalent sungnome implies involuntary acts: In the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle notes that sungnome is appropriate when people act either under exceptional compulsion, which includes conditions beyond the strength of any human being to resist, or in excusable ignorance of the facts or circumstances. Both of these cases fall under the category of involuntary acts and so do not involve guilt or exoneration.14 The notions of forgiveness in a pre-Christian world seem to centre on whether Jennifer Vanderheyden 5 ________________________________________________________________ and if it existed, and, if so, as a political and judicial clemency and pardon (linked to power and authority), the question of whether or not forgiveness should be considered a virtue, and the general consensus that it is a learned behaviour that is linked to empathy. Konstan also describes the three stages of forgiveness in a modern context: First, there must be honest remorse on the part of the wrongdoer or offender; this may be expressed, for example, as an apology. Second, there must be evidence of repentance, that is, not just regret but the intention to change or reform; in recognizing what he did wrong, the offender achieves a new moral insight and character…Third, there is required a corresponding change of heart in the forgiver…the result is that the forgiver does not excuse or forget the injury but sees it as something pertaining to a past that no longer holds sway over the present.15 In his essay ‘Mercy, Repentance, and Forgiveness in Ancient Judaism,’ Michael Morgan states that the literature of ancient Judaism discusses forgiveness mainly in terms of the divine-human relationship rather than that of interpersonal. In this context, God is in the position of the one being wronged, and it is to God that the sinner, or wrongdoer, turns to ask for forgiveness: What this means, finally, is that whereas recent discussion focuses on forgiveness, ancient Jewish texts focus on atonement, repentance, and the requirement to repent as an important, perhaps a necessary condition of forgiveness. Moreover, the forgiveness of interest is God’s forgiveness and not the forgiveness of any human victim of wrongdoing, if there is one.16 Morgan discusses rabbinic texts as continuing this emphasis on the divinehuman, with nuances regarding interpersonal forgiveness and the willingness and obligation of the wrongdoer to repent as well as the obligation of the harmed to forgive. He refers to the Mishnah’s description of ‘the ritual practices of Yom Kippur as a vital part of the process of reconciliation.’17 These ancient texts, including the Hebrew Bible, refer to repentance, sacrifice and other forms of atonement and recognition of the wrongdoing in the process of forgiveness, and in many situations these ritualistic acts of repentance can symbolically affect the well being of a larger group. Perhaps this action of some sort of ritualized spiritual sacrifice is what is sorely lacking in the chaos that generally follows genocide, not to mention denial that the genocide even occurred. In fact, Morgan refers to divine pardon of sin that is 6 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ linked with impurity, or the Greek word miasma: Jacob Milgrom, for example, in his monumental work on the book of Leviticus, identifies a “non-ritual form of impurity, a spiritual miasma caused by a sin that stains the sanctuary even when it does not ritually defile the sinner in any distinct way.” This claim is part of his account of the “sin-offerings” described in Leviticus, which, Milgrom claims, “do not effect atonement on the sinner personally; rather, these rituals serve to purge the sanctuary of the stain left upon it by the spiritual miasma that sin brings about.”18 This of course takes on new context in light of the many churches in Rwanda in which the genocide occurred, literally and spiritually staining the sanctuary. I do not know, nor would I be qualified to suggest, an appropriate ritual to cleanse such impurity, but I would assume it would begin with admission and apology, extending from the perpetrator to Third-Party participants, institutions and the global community, certain of whom have already done so. I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter that researcher Assumpta Mugiraneza decided to study the Holocaust in order to assist her understanding of Rwanda’s genocide, and I also suggested that forgiveness by analogy could help this process. Simon Wiesenthal’s The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness19 is one of the most well known texts to pose the question of whether such evil as perpetrated during the Holocaust should or could be forgiven by a survivor, especially in the context of Judaism. The book is divided into two parts: ‘The Sunflower,’ in which Simon recounts his experiences during the time he was imprisoned in a Nazi work camp and poses the question about forgiveness, and ‘The Symposium,’ in which various people of all religions and professions respond to Simon’s question. Originally published in 1976, a more recent second edition (1996) included thirty-two new responses, followed by the addition of 7 more responses in the 1998 paperback edition. Mr. Wiesenthal begins his text by describing the horrendously inhumane conditions of the camp, and the constant threat of torture and extermination based upon the whim of the guards. The evil is beyond understanding, exemplified by the discussion he and his fellow prisoners have one evening regarding a BBC London radio broadcast on Radio Moscow during which an elderly woman says that God must be ‘on leave’ for such terrible acts to occur, a statement with which Simon will continue to struggle during and following his torturous ordeal. The question regarding forgiveness centres on an experience that Simon had while working at a Reserve Hospital near the camp. He and 49 others are selected one day to be marched by Russian guards to the building, which turns out to be his former school, in order to carry out the most disgusting work in the hospital. On the way Jennifer Vanderheyden 7 ________________________________________________________________ there they pass a military cemetery for German soldiers, and he is transfixed by the sight of a single sunflower growing on each grave, ‘as straight as a soldier on parade.’ 20 Butterflies flutter from grave to grave, and he finds himself envying the dead soldiers because ‘each had a sunflower to connect him with the living world and butterflies to visit his grave.’ 21 In contrast, he envisions himself buried in a mass grave and believes that ‘even in death the soldiers were superior.’ 22 Once they reach the hospital, a Red Cross nurse approaches Simon, asks if he is a Jew, and when he replies affirmatively she motions for him to follow her upstairs to the former office of the Dean. A figure lies on a stretcher in the semi-darkness of the room, and Simon wonders if he is actually experiencing a dream because of the uncanny situation: the head is ‘completely bandaged with openings only for mouth, nose and ears. The feeling of unreality persisted.’ 23 It turns out to be a real situation where a dying SS guard wants to confess to a Jew the atrocities he has committed so that he may die in peace. He had asked the nurse to find a Jew, any Jew, to whom he can tell his story and then ask for forgiveness. The SS guard, whose name Simon later learns to be Karl, alternately clutches Simon’s hand and arm during the time he painstakingly tells his story. Conversely, Simon alternately wants to leave yet for some reason is compelled to stay, and even shows compassion by brushing an insect from Karl’s head and picking up his mother’s letter that has fallen to the floor. During the first part of the dying Nazi soldier’s story, Simon hears him tell of moments when he protested to some extent the inhumane treatment of the Jews by the Russian soldiers, and how Hitler used propaganda to reinforce their hatred toward Jews. He even tells of his attempts at saving food to give to the Jews in his town until his platoon leader caught him. At this point, Simon wonders if Karl is a Jew or half Jew who has managed to hide his identity. Simon even thinks to himself that there was a ‘warm undertone in his voice as he spoke about the Jews.’24 Therefore, even though Simon cannot see the soldier’s eyes and he in fact does not even appear human, Simon gives him humanity through his empathy. However, Simon loses all compassion for the soldier as well as any doubts about his ethnicity when he begins to describe in detail the horror of his participation in the murder of many Jewish families. He tells of loading a house with petrol, after which they order a large number of Jews, including women and children, into the house and then set it on fire. Karl is especially haunted by the image of a family with a young boy who jumped out of the window to their death. Although the dying soldier seems repentant and asks Simon for forgiveness, his comments demonstrate his incapacity to give Jews equal humanity and compassion: ‘Those Jews died quickly, they did not suffer as I do–though they were not as guilty as I am.’ 25 And he echoes the inscription on the Rwandan church in Nyamata when he states: ‘I don’t know who you are, I only know that you are a Jew and that is enough.’26 He is asking forgiveness from a collective rather than an individual, forgiveness that Simon decides he is unable to grant. Without saying a 8 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ word, Simon exits the room, thinking to himself that a sunflower remains between them. That evening back at the camp, Simon recounts his experience to his friends Arthur and Josack, who agree that even if the dying Nazi showed remorse and repentance, Simon had no right to grant forgiveness in the place of the actual victims. The following day when Simon returns to the Reserve Hospital, the nurse finds him again and tries to give him a bundle of Karl’s possessions, which he had asked her to do before he died during the night. Simon again refuses and instructs her to send everything to Karl’s mother. Yet, Simon continues to be haunted by the dying Nazi’s request for forgiveness, and whether he made the right choice by refusing to grant it, evidenced by his silence. Later in his horrendous confinement Simon himself is starving and near death when a new prisoner is allocated to his bunk. Bolek, a young Pole, had been arrested outside the seminary where he was studying to become a priest. Simon tells him about the dying SS guard’s request for forgiveness, and although Bolek believes as well that one can only forgive a wrong directly committed to oneself, given the circumstances Whom had the SS man to turn to? None of those he wronged were still alive…Probably he turned to you because he regarded Jews as a single community. For him you were a member of this community and thus his last chance.27 He continues by saying that perhaps the Nazi had indeed found peace through his confession. Since he had no chance to expiate his sins he deserved forgiveness, which Simon failed to grant. Yet their ensuing conversation leaves them both doubting their positions: Bolek began to falter in his original opinion that I ought to have forgiven the dying man, and for my part I became less and less certain as to whether I had acted rightly. Soon after the liberation Simon sees a sunflower and is reminded of his dilemma, which later inspires him to write The Sunflower and pose his perplexing question. While most of the Jewish respondents to Simon’s polemic believe that he could not have forgiven the SS soldier, the non-Jewish responses are mixed. Although the extraordinary forgiveness called for in this situation is uniquely personal, reading about Simon’s experience and meditating on his question of forgiveness might provide possible answers for another suffering victim. Ultimately one can only surmise what they would have done under the same circumstances, not what Simon should or should not have done. And we do not know, and will never know, Jennifer Vanderheyden 9 ________________________________________________________________ if the dying soldier had actually confessed to a priest who may have told him to atone for his sins by confessing to a Jew, although we might assume that he would have said as much to Simon. Still, there seems to be no question that the Nazi dehumanizes Simon by asking for a random Jew, and there is no evidence that he had attempted to expiate his sins by telling his peers that what they were doing was grossly wrong. On the other hand, Simon grants him humanity by listening to him and even showing compassion, but at that moment, if Simon forgives him he would be in effect symbolically forgiving his executioner because he has every reason to believe in the imminence of his own death. Perhaps one can say that by even showing the SS guard a small amount of compassion, Simon is planting a sunflower seed: it will be up to divine justice to provide the water. Additionally, one could assume that divine justice was already at work through the manner by which the soldier received his mortal wound: he was so distracted by recurring images of the Jewish family who jumped to their deaths that he froze in combat and was therefore an easy target. As Simon Wiesenthal’s moving text has demonstrated, our modern Western concept of forgiveness generally has its origins in Judeo Christian texts. The Christian understanding of interpersonal forgiveness finds its origin in the life and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. As Hannah Arendt famously states in her essay on forgiveness: The Discoverer of the role of forgiveness in the realm of human affairs was Jesus of Nazareth. The fact that he made this discovery in a religious context and articulated it in religious language is no reason to take it any less seriously in a strictly secular sense.28 By this, Arendt refers to the ‘closely knit community of his (Jesus’) followers,’ 29 and his teachings (and her interpretation of verses in Matthew and Mark) that man must forgive out of goodness, which then will result in divine forgiveness. In other words, human forgiveness serves as a mediator and even facilitator for God’s subsequent forgiveness, but one could stop at the secular level as a promotion of forgiveness out of love for members of our community. In a Christian religious context, if we do not forgive our fellow man, we cannot in turn expect divine forgiveness. Arendt delineates between actions that seem to be involuntary (‘for they know not what they do’) and thus require us to forgive, (this reminds us of the Aristotelian understanding) and those which can be categorized as extreme: Crime and willed evil are rare, even rarer perhaps than good deeds, according to Jesus, they will be taken care of by God in 10 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ the Last Judgment, which plays no role whatsoever in life on earth, and the Last Judgment is not characterized by forgiveness but by just retribution.30 By this, Arendt asserts that humans are not capable of forgiving extreme evil, an assertion that seems to echo the opinions regarding Simon’s dilemma, one that clearly deserves further contemplation. Arendt continues this contention with a discussion of punishment in terms of human forgiveness, as well as the reason that man cannot forgive extreme evil: ‘…men are unable to forgive what they cannot punish and [that] they are unable to punish what has turned out to be unforgivable.’ 31 Not only do we know so little about the nature of this type of excessive evil, she states that it is beyond our realm of human capabilities to comprehend; therefore we cannot forgive that which transcends our understanding. On a daily basis, Arendt contends that forgiveness of mundane ‘trespasses’ facilitates a progressive and active existence through the liberation of forgiveness: Only through this constant mutual release from what they do can men remain free agents, only by constant willingness to change their minds and start again can they be trusted with so great a power as that to begin something new.32 In contrast to a calculated reaction of revenge, this freedom to forgive ‘acts anew and unexpectedly,’ and allows both the victim and wrongdoer the possibility of moving forward. Yet, as I mentioned earlier, in the case of such evil acts that require justice or punishment that men are incapable of giving, for Arendt they are just as powerless to forgive. Arendt ends this discussion of forgiveness with a provocatively enigmatic reference to the power of love as a mediator in interpersonal forgiveness. Whereas in a note Arendt attributes the ordinariness of love (Arendt refers to the belief that ‘love is as common as “romance”’) to pre-conceived elements of poetic romance narratives, in her discussion she seems to assign a mysterious power to love that destroys the ‘in-between which relates us to and separates us from others.’ 33 For us to forgive another, love’s powerful ‘spell’ must enable us to achieve the clarity of ‘seeing’ the wrongdoer in his authentic self, void of all worldly attachments and qualities, both good and bad. The victim understands the ‘who’ or subject of the transgression in a purely unmediated state. The only thing that can interrupt this other-worldliness symbiotic cocoon would be the insertion of the product of love: a child that ‘is representative of the world in that it also separates them: it is an indication that they will insert a new world into the existing world.’34 Although this return to a worldly existence ends their surreal connection, and according to Arendt, also signifies in a sense the end of love, the possibility exists of a Jennifer Vanderheyden 11 ________________________________________________________________ redefinition or transformation of their relationship. Arendt ends her discussion by positing the feeling of respect as comparable to love, but in the ‘larger domain of human affairs’ rather than the more intimate quality of love.35 I would compare Arendt’s enigmatic description of the role of love in interpersonal forgiveness to the role of divine (unworldly) grace. Although she does not seem to be talking about the function of love in the forgiveness of horrendous evil, in many aspects it seems to be a crucial element. Many describe the process of forgiveness as the giving of a gift, whether it be the gift of letting go of resentment or the need for vengeance, the gift of humanity to the perpetrator, or the eventual gift of reconciliation. In this sense, divine or supernatural intervention would allow the victim of heinous evil to be able to transform her life. To remain in the state of non-forgiveness is to remain in the pain-body of suffering, therefore the most important gift of the forgiveness process is the gift one gives to oneself when, as victim, one allows herself to let go of the responsibility of resentment or retaliation. Whether there is an apology or not, whether there is justice or not, the chains of non-forgiveness tie the victim to the horror of the crime. Divine grace and love could transform and liberate the victim’s shame, resentment and other powerful negative emotions. In their discussions in this volume on the accounts of Hannah Arendt’s banality of evil, Sarah Gendron and Cassie A. Pedersen skilfully navigate the notions of unspeakability and incomprehensibility in their discourses surrounding the Holocaust.36 Pedersen also quotes Lyotard’s discussion of the atrocities perpetrated at Auschwitz in terms of a ‘plethora of differends,’ that exemplify the ‘essence of the unspeakable.’ Gendron refers to Lyotard and Derrida, for whom the Holocaust ‘symbolized the moment when modernity became witness to its own annihilation,’ as well as Lyotard’s claim of such evil as, ‘limitless, unsynthesizable, it was the ultimate survivor of the Holocaust.’ Both Gendron and Pedersen demonstrate that Arendt’s work underlines the lack of a framework for understanding or communicating about such evil. This inability to create a meta-narrative to speak about and hopefully attempt to understand the systematic brutality of genocide parallels the limits and obstacles in the process of forgiving such atrocities. As Pedersen analyzes, if one lacks the appropriate tools to formulate a wrong, there can be no reconciliation. In his work Pragmatics of Human Communication, Paul Watzlawick highlights this lack of digital communication to formulate certain concepts, especially as compared to analogic communication and its capabilities to express these difficult ‘contingencies of relationships.’ 37 As I have discussed elsewhere, Watzlawick describes the levels of human knowledge that imply an abstract fourth level of knowledge that might contain possibilities of formulating a framework in which to express the unspeakable: Otherwise stated, we must supply the frame for our own system, 12 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ knowledge, or tableau. However, Watzlawick posits the mathematical concept of Gödel’s proof as “the ultimate paradox of man’s existence. Man is ultimately subject and object of his quest…the consistency of such a system can only be proved by recourse to methods of proof that are more general than those the system itself can generate.” Watzlawick points out that Ludwig Wittgenstein formulated the same paradox in philosophical terms: “… we could only know something about the world in its totality if we could step outside it; but if this were possible, this world would no longer be the whole world.” 38 This paradox returns us back to Arendt and Lytoard, and I would posit that the solution to the paradox might be situated in the realm of the analogic, or the determination of meaning by referentiality. Trying to understand the systematic process of genocidal evil serves as interpretation of meaning by analogy. If we cannot literally see or understand directly, such as in Simon’s experience of speaking to a bandaged Nazi without being able to look into his eyes in order to judge his sincerity, perhaps Lyotard’s differend, Arendt’s fleeting ‘wisdom of the past,’ may be glimpsed through our individual understanding by an identifying reference. This identification could involve an understanding of the madness associated with evil and the recognition of the evil act as other and therefore beyond reason. From a Christian perspective, if we accept that Jesus actually said ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do,’ (and there is some debate as to whether he did make this statement), could it be not only in the sense of involuntary forgivable acts, but also those acts of unspeakable evil that seem just as beyond reason as our ability to comprehend them? Acts carried out under the propaganda-incited and trance-like or insane ritualistic slaughter of neighbours? Acts during which the perpetrator loses himself in the delirium and in that respect becomes the other-asact? Michael Morgan refers to the rabbinic view of seeing the evil act as a metonymic representation of the entire person: ‘to forgive someone is precisely to treat him or her as a better person than the act might indicate. And what justifies this is the offender’s repentance.’39 For the victim, certainly forgiving incomprehensible evil may be nearly impossible, but the hope of any type of recovery demands a modality and process of forgiveness that contain the expression of the perpetrator’s genuine remorse. Not only does the victim need to believe that repentance and apology are sincerely empathic feelings on the part of the perpetrator, it is by ‘purging’ himself of the evil that he may become ‘other than the act’ in the eyes of the victim. The recovery of the self, so to speak, is not so much a recovery, but a re-definition of the former self in the sense of on-going acts of repentance and atonement. Genocide was planned, structured and systematic: it only makes sense that the process of Jennifer Vanderheyden 13 ________________________________________________________________ forgiving could be just as complex. In her comprehensive study of survivors of the Rwandan genocide, As We Forgive, Laura Waters Hinson speaks of the difficulties of forgiveness, but states that in the long run, certainly for the victim, forgiveness is more beneficial than the extremes of a violent reaction such as suicide or murder as an expression of revenge.40 Additionally, the inability to forgive takes a physical toll on the health of the victim, thereby worsening further victimization. In the particular situation of forgiving such monstrous acts as those committed during the genocide in Rwanda, a crucial step for the victim is to understand that forgiveness is not a forgetting, a minimization, a condonement, nor a one time event, and it is most definitely not straightforward. She gives detailed examples of the on-going efforts of restorative justice in Rwanda, including hopeful interaction between victims and perpetrators in addition to judicial punishment. (She refers to Dr. Howard Zehr’s initial designation of the term ‘restorative justice.’) Rather than the distance that normally results from the criminal court system in terms of healing and reconciliation, restorative justice would play a continued role in the process. Zehr’s efforts have resulted in the creation of VORPS in Rwanda: Victim Offender Reconciliation Programs in the form of prison fellowships such as the Umuvumu Tree Project.41 The process of forgiveness of genocidal evil is an extraordinary journey, for after all of the philosophical, psychological and religious theories of forgiveness I have researched, forgiveness of such evil comes down to personal struggle and pain. If I were in the place of the survivors I would desperately want to forgive for my own well-being, but I also understand that such a painful process involves revisiting the trauma and the incomprehensiveness of the act. As Father James Voiss pointed out in a 2014 presentation at Marquette University titled ‘Rethinking Christian Forgiveness: Theological, Philosophical and Psychological Explorations,’ 42 when a heinous act annihilates our sense of security in every area of our life, what Father Voiss refers to as a ‘shared matrix that constitutes our Sense of Self,’ we struggle on every level of our being to make sense out of this upheaval, let alone forgive such a wrong: What makes harm an occasion for possible forgiveness is that its meaning challenges, destabilizes and disrupts the matrix of meanings that structures our sense of self and our self/world relationship.43 Sarah Gendron also discusses in this volume the ‘horror’ of the victims as they were attacked by their former doctors, teachers and neighbours, from the ‘betrayal of traditional understandings of “good/evil” and how suddenly such identities could change.’ 44 And as Sally Nadeau discusses in her chapter in this volume on the challenges that post-genocide Rwanda has confronted, many survivors and victims live in the same small villages with the perpetrators, where they must deal 14 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ with not only continued survival in a restructured society, but also daily reminders of their personal pain and loss.45 As I mentioned earlier, one manner of reconciling this unspeakable pain with a redefined existence might reside in the analogic realm of referentiality. By identifying at some level with another’s extraordinary journey of possible forgiveness, one might be able to do the same. While many survivors have not been able to move beyond the profound pain and trauma, others have resiliently moved through the process of extraordinary forgiveness by confronting their individual agony. I have been blessed to know several such courageous human beings who, like Simon Weisenthal, dedicate their lives to honouring victims and survivors of genocide in the hope that their work will in some way prevent such future atrocities. In addition to her scholarly writings, Rangira Béa Gallimore founded a not for profit organization Step Up! to assist the female survivors of the genocide, and this organization will mark the opening in August, 2014, of a trauma counselling centre in Rwanda. Our guide in Rwanda, Habimana Twamu Emmanuel, who was orphaned during the genocide, just completed both a speaking tour that included Marquette University, and co-directed the film Komora: To Heal. Marquette University has also been fortunate to host several artists, writers and researchers who either performed or participated in discussions regarding the genocide: actor and writer Diogène Ntarindwa, whose theatrical performances ‘Carte d’Identité,’ and ‘La Radio de la Haine’ continue to be performed globally, Rangira Béa Gallimore, whose work I have discussed throughout this chapter, Immaculée Ilibagiza, who spoke about her book Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust, writer and film director Marie-France Collard, whose film Rwanda 94 Sarah Gendron discusses in this volume, Martine Beckers, to whom I referred earlier, and who also appears in Collard’s film Brussels-Kigali, and Consolee Nishimwe, whose courageous story of her journey of forgiveness serves as an inspirational example to conclude this discussion of forgiveness. In her book Tested to the Limit: A Genocide Survivor’s Story of Pain, Resilience, and Hope,46 Consolee describes the horrific details of her family’s struggles to survive the genocide. Only 14 at the time, she hid in the bushes, above the ceilings of houses, she was raped and beaten and even stared génocidaires in the face, but she never lost her faith in God. Her mother, sister and a few other family members survived, although her father and three brothers did not. She is now HIV positive as a result of the rape, but still she has found a way to forgive. Consolee is one of the many survivors who choose to no longer live in Rwanda, and through a long process of forgiveness she was only recently able to publicly tell her story. Her three younger brothers were murdered, their bodies chopped into pieces which were then thrown into the family’s septic tank. It took her mother 15 years to find the emotional strength to retrieve their skeletons and give them a proper burial at a memorial site. Amazingly, Consolee tells of her mother’s Jennifer Vanderheyden 15 ________________________________________________________________ decision to forgive their killer: during one of their frequent phone calls, Consolee’s mother read her the letter she just received from the imprisoned killer, Sanini, in which he begged for forgiveness, assuming full responsibility for his acts against her innocent children. A few weeks later he was taken to face trial in front of the GACACA court, and Consolee’s mother and Aunt decided to observe him in person in order to determine his sincerity. Consolee states that it is at this point that her mother was able to forgive by saying to Sanani: ‘I forgive you, but I hope you know that true forgiveness is ultimately up to God’s judgment!’ 47 Her mother told her that seeing in person his sincerity allowed her to forgive, knowing as well that it was best for her personally. Yet, Consolee’s struggle with forgiveness continued; she was tormented by the horror of the genocide and the refusal of so many to apologize. She continued to pray and eventually was able to pray for the perpetrators, a pivotal step in her process of forgiveness. With God’s grace, she realized that the killers would be forever tormented by their horrific acts, whereas she could find peace and freedom from hatred through her process of forgiveness. For the first time since the genocide she has been able to sleep without reliving the terror. Like so many survivors, she speaks her truth not only to honour the memory of her loved ones, but also to actively promote the elimination of such crimes against humanity. The Memorial church I described at the beginning of this chapter may be forever stained, but Consolee and other survivors like her who have transcended the struggle to forgive radiate the hope, faith and all that is good. I would like to conclude with a poetic tribute to the female survivors of the genocide in Rwanda, who shine in the light of the extraordinary. Survivors Woman say you, am I no more if not you, say I, what is woman? May the river of tombs cleanse your soul preserve the memory of beloved innocence allow the evil to flow 16 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ into the universe of forgiveness and justice Let your nurturing duality birth your suffering send it into the silent dark night from which it came May your womb expel the bloody weight that crushes your truth restore the Woman that has always been, that is forever, say I, You Notes 1 Assumpta Mugiraneza, ‘Génocide à Proximité,’ (lecture presented to study abroad students from the University of Missouri, Kigali, Rwanda, June, 2013). 2 Ibid. 3 Antoine Rutayisire, (discussion with study abroad students from the University of Missouri, Kigali, Rwanda, June, 2013). 4 Sally Nadeau, ‘On the Role of Nation-States in Regulating Evil,’ in this volume. 5 Martine Beckers, ‘Reconciliation and Justice,’ (paper presented at the panel discussion ‘Rwanda 1994-2014: The Search for Justice and Reconciliation,’ Marquette University, Milwaukee, WI., April 4, 2014). 6 Ibid. 7 Nelson Mandela, as quoted by Goodreads.com, viewed 14 March 2014. http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/278812-as-i-walked-out-the-door-toward-thegate-that. 8 Desmond Tutu, in Simon Wiesenthal’s The Sunflower: Part Two, (New York: Schocken Books, 1998), Kindle edition. 9 Beckers, ‘Reconciliation and Justice.’ 10 Sarah Gendron, ‘In Plain Sight,’ in this volume. Jennifer Vanderheyden 17 ________________________________________________________________ 11 Adam Morton, ‘What is Forgiveness,’ Ancient Forgiveness, eds. Charles L. Griswold and David Konstan (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 7-8. 12 Ibid., 7-8. 13 ‘Online Etymology Dictionary,’ viewed 15 March, 2014, http://www.etymonline.com. 14 David Konstan, ‘Assuaging Rage: Remorse, Repentance, and Forgiveness in the Classical World,’ Ancient Forgiveness, eds. Charles L. Griswold and David Konstan (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 19. 15 Ibid., 21-22. 16 Michael L. Morgan, ‘Mercy, Repentance, and Forgiveness in Ancient Judaism,’ Ancient Forgiveness, eds. Charles L. Griswold and David Konstan, (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 138. 17 Ibid., 148. 18 Ibid., 139. 19 Simon Wiesenthal, The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness, (New York: Schocken Books, 1998), Kindle edition. 20 Ibid., Section One 21 Ibid. 22 Ibid. 23 Ibid. 24 Ibid. 25 Ibid. 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid. 28 Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958), 238. 29 Ibid., 238. 30 Ibid., 239. 31 Ibid., 240. 32 Ibid., 239. 33 Ibid., 240. 34 Ibid., 241. 35 Ibid., 241. 36 Sarah Gendron, ‘In Plain Sight,’ and Cassie A. Pedersen, ‘Ruptures in Understanding: The Banality of Evil and the Differend,’ in this volume. 37 Paul Watzlawick, Janet Helmick Beavin, Don D. Jackson, Pragmatics of Human Communication, (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1967). 38 Jennifer Vanderheyden, The Function of the Dream and the Body in Diderot’s Works (New York: Peter Lang, 2004) 25. 39 Morgan, ‘Mercy, Repentance, and Forgiveness in Ancient Judaism,’ 157. 18 Extraordinary Forgiveness ________________________________________________________________ 40 Laura Waters Hinson, As We Forgive: Stories of Reconciliation From Rwanda, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2009) Kindle Edition. 41 Ibid., 42 James K. Voiss, ‘Rethinking Christian Forgiveness: Theological, Philosophical and Psychological Explorations,’ (talk given at Marquette University for Mission Week, March, 2014). See also Father Voiss’ forthcoming book on the same subject. 43 Ibid., 44 Gendron, in this volume. 45 Nadeau, in this volume. 46 Consolee Nishimwe, Tested to the Limit: A Genocide Survivor’s Story of Pain, Resilience, and Hope, (Bloomington: Balboa Press, 2012), Kindle Edition. 47 Ibid., Bibliography Arendt, Hannah. The Human Condition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958. Beckers, Martine. ‘Reconciliation and Justice.’ paper presented at the panel discussion ‘Rwanda 1994-2014: The Search for Justice and Reconciliation,’ Marquette University, Milwaukee, WI., April 4, 2014. Brussels-Kigali. Directed by Marie-France Collard. Liège: Groupov, 2011. DVD. Griswold, Charles L. and David Konstan, eds. Ancient Forgiveness. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. Hinson, Laura Waters. As We Forgive: Stories of Reconciliation From Rwanda. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2009. Kindle Edition. Ilibagiza, Immaculée. Left to Tell: Discovering God Amidst the Rwandan Holocaust. New York: Hay House, 2006. Mugiraneza, Assumpta. ‘Génocide à Proximité.’ Lecture presented to study abroad students from the University of Missouri, Kigali, Rwanda, June, 2013. Nishimwe, Consolee. Tested to the Limit: A Genocide Survivor’s Story of Pain, Resilience, and Hope. Bloomington: Balboa Press, 2012. Jennifer Vanderheyden 19 ________________________________________________________________ Rwanda 94. Directed by Marie-France Collard and Patrick Czaplinski. Liège: Groupov, 2007. DVD. Vanderheyden, Jennifer. The Function of the Dream and the Body in Diderot’s Works. New York: Peter Lang, 2004. Voiss, James K. ‘Rethinking Christian Forgiveness: Theological, Philosophical and Psychological Explorations.’ Talk given at Marquette University for Mission Week, March, 2014. Watzlawick, Paul, Janet Helmick Beavin and Don D. Jackson. Pragmatics of Human Communication. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1967. Wiesenthal, Simon. The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness. New York: Schocken Books, 1998, Kindle edition. Author’s Bio Jennifer Vanderheyden is an Assistant Professor of French and French Literature at Marquette University in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She serves as faculty advisor to the student organization Step Up! (American Association for Rwandan Women).