On Forgiveness: Derrida and the Reconciliatory Nature of Forgiveness

In On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness, Jacques Derrida argues that according to its own internal logic, genuine forgiving must involve the impossible: that is, the forgiving of an ‘unforgivable’ transgression. According to him, the definition of ‘forgiveness’ is to forgive the unforgivable, and by its definition, ‘unforgivable’ is someone who cannot be forgiven. And so this creates a paradox, that we must forgive that which cannot be forgiven. To him, any apology or repentance by the guilty party makes the forgiveness conditional and this amounts more to amnesty or reconciliation, not genuine forgiveness. Derrida also goes on to say that if we begin to understand the motivations or reasons for why the guilty party even in a minimal way, this absolute forgiveness cannot take place. In other words, once someone or their deeds become forgivable, we are not longer able to forgive them in any genuine sense of the word.

I do agree that in some sense Derrida is right. After all, once we come to understand the wrongdoer’s motives for their actions or accept their repentance, these become extenuating factors for us to pardon or excuse them for their wrongdoing. Yet, it is not clear that when we forgive someone we actually mean it in the absolute sense that Derrida believes that concept of forgiveness means. Intuitively, when we are called to forgive someone or told someone has been forgiven it seems natural enough to ask why we forgive this person for his misdeeds or on what grounds has someone been forgiven. Derrida is right to say that we cannot forgive that which is unforgivable. But I disagree with him that forgiveness, by definition, means forgiving someone who is unforgivable. Or at the least, genuine forgiveness is not what we mean when we talk about forgiveness. That ‘genuine forgiveness’ is somewhat like the Platonic forms that are an idealised version of their real counterparts. Just as genuine love is in loving the unlovable, forgiveness must work something like that. For when we love others for various reasons it becomes a conditional kind of love and so not genuine. And yet do we say that loving someone is an impossibility or that we have never loved anyone?

It is interesting that while Derrida is right about forgiveness (and all other similar concepts), it has no practical bearing on how we use the word or the term in our everyday lives. Of course, we can all agree with Derrida that the ideal form of the concept is impossible. But that is not the concept that we are employing when we use the term “forgiveness” in our day to day exchanges. Conditional forgiveness, together with amnesty, pardon and reconciliation, is what we mean by forgiveness.

In the Gospel of Luke 17:3-4 in the Bible, Jesus told his disciples, “If your brother or sister sins against you, rebuke them; and if they repent, forgive them. Even if they sin against you seven times in a day and seven times come back to you saying ‘I repent,’ you must forgive them.” We can infer from this Bible verse that forgiveness is in fact conditional: If repent, then forgive. Repentance is, then, an integral part of what it means to forgive someone. In fact, God Himself does not forgive those who are not repentant, He loves all people but will not forgive those who sin and do not repent. In this way, we see that forgiveness in its very nature is conditional. It is conditional upon repentance. This is because the concept of forgiveness is not merely a matter of logical coherence but a communal term. Sin and wrongdoing causes a rupture in the relationship between the offender and the victim. In the past, when communities were small and all blood related, the offender and the victim usually knew each other or at least they were connected through close communal ties. The whole community would come to know of this incident and a lack of reconciliation would result in a disruption to the community. It is akin to us not making up with our parents or siblings, it is awkward, uncomfortable and results in great tension. Hence, there were only two options, reconciliation or expulsion, either voluntary or forced.

Reconciliation means that both parties are willing to make up; the offender repents of his or her wrongdoing and the victim forgives the offender. It is a matter of restoration of relationship in a community or family. If we accept Derrida’s definition of genuine forgiveness, then all forgiveness will definitely be conditional on the basis that both the offender and the victim would most likely know each other rather well especially if they lived in a small community. We come to agree with Derrida wholeheartedly when we view the concept of forgiveness merely conceptually within the framework of a society of strangers. If a stranger causes injury or offense to us, our forgiving him or her constitutes genuine forgiveness. But back to what I said earlier, can we really call that forgiveness?

I argue that the nature of forgiveness is reconciliatory. The whole point of forgiving someone is for the purpose of restoring a broken relationship. Derrida sees that the paradox of forgiveness means that forgiving can never be finished or concluded – it must always be open, like a permanent rupture, or a wound that refuses to heal. And it is this idea that goes against the conception of forgiveness that I’ve been developing. You could not possibly call a forgiveness that is akin to an open and permanent rupture true forgiveness can you? Forgiveness that does not bring closure is not genuine forgiveness. Be it “unforgivable” sin or little wrongdoing, the function of forgiveness is to respond to repentance. Like two hands that come together to clap, forgiveness makes no sense without repentance.

So I would turn Derrida’s argument on its head by saying that “conditional forgiveness” is genuine forgiveness, while “absolute forgiveness” is not. To forgive an unrepentant stranger for the great harm he or she has done to us is not forgiveness at all. Derrida would argue it is impossible. I would say that it is something else altogether. For the sake of clarity, I would call such forgiveness “Non-Relational Forgiveness”. It beings closure to one’s own injury but does nothing to restore any relationship. Just as Derrida calls conditional forgiveness merely amnesty or reconciliation. I would call what he calls ‘genuine forgiveness’ merely personal closure or letting go. And in this form, it can be done.

Derrida asked the pertinent question, “How can you forgive the unforgivable?” You can’t. Only and unless the offender repents there will be nothing to forgive. Forgiveness needs an object of its forgiveness and this is not, as Derrida seems to think, the unforgivable but the repentant. Also, it is interesting to note that even if the offender is unrepentant, one can still forgive the person by virtue of our love for that person. So even in this instance, forgiveness is conditional because love is the condition. The object in this case is the beloved. Hence, the paradox that Derrida created disappears.