Well, as my flatmate pointed out, I have a blog in which I haven't posted anything since arriving in Scotland. My days have been spent exploring the alleyways of Aberdeen, the coastal paths of the sea, drinking massive amounts of coffee, endless hours of reading, and an "occasional" binge of a new BBC show.
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| Took the bus to get here, and when the bus driver found out my friend and I were trying to get to this castle, he dropped us off not at an official bus stop, but on the side of a road in the middle of a field, pointed to the distant outline of ruins, and said "walk there." |
I have thought about blogging, but I have remained paralyzed by the paradox of always learning in pursuit of questions, and yet never arriving at an answer.
And so my blog has remained silent.
But I must remind myself that this blog isn't about answers. It's about my journey within the questions (there's a beautiful quote by Rainer Maria Rilke about this). And no one wants to listen to a twenty-something American who thinks they have the answers to life anyways.
And so with not a small amount of trepidation (throwback to my SAT flashcards), I'll start off with one of "the biggies," a potentially a heretical question considering my degree:
Is forgiveness possible?
If you asked me this a year ago, I would've replied with a resounding "yes." Because any other answer would have been too terrible to consider.
Forget how forgiveness might be possible - through what context/situation/intervention is forgiveness possible, or even through which ideology, religion, spiritually, or combination of is forgiveness possible…
Just, is forgiveness possible?
I knew people doubted forgiveness, I saw it on their faces when I talked about Rwanda. I saw the doubt and skepticism visibly wash over them. I never minded it - my stories wouldn't make sense if I hadn't seen it for myself. I even had doubts in the midst of being served tea in the home of a genocide perpetrator by his survivor who was almost buried alive in a mass grave of bodies. I understood wondering about the "unfair burden of forgiveness" that the whole situation places on the female survivor.
And then this week, I met Nietzsche.
Nietzsche - the man who deconstructs everything a Christian is raised to know as "truth." And because he stands in such opposition of the mindset I was raised with, I dove into his "Genealogy of Morals" eager to know if what I believed would stack up. Because as I was recently advised, "if truth is worth following, it better hold up to everything else."
So Nietzsche, a highly misunderstood, often misquoted and definitely misused philosopher…Nietzsche feels very dangerous because I am no expert (as only reading one book of his does not qualify you as such), and yet I believe he poses very valid and challenging questions to this topic.
His main argument, as I understand it to be, is that there is no inherit "good," but that every moral we collectively hold today is actually the product of an evolution of morals. Specifically, our morals today were shaped by the conflict between noble and slave morals, where the religious in power (notably "the cruelest of all, the Christian") dictated what is "good."
Where this comes to a true crisis of reality (in my mind) is that he asserts that compassion and forgiveness are actually just weaknesses.
Pause.
This is where all my past conversations about peace and reconciliation come flashing to mind. In each of these conversations, I jump in headfirst with the assumption that all humans agree forgiveness and reconciliation is the "good and right" way to go.
But according to Nietzsche, I believe and assume this to be true only because I am socialized to value these morals (which is definitely correct), not because they are instinctively good (which is up for debate). He would say these morals are actually weaknesses, and furthermore, religion has used them as tools to dominate power (unfortunately true in some historical and modern day cases).
So is forgiveness and reconciliation "good"? Are they strengths? Because if you don't believe in Jesus' sacrifice on the cross, or in any religious figure's sacrifice of power, or in any movement's leader in nonviolent resistance…then what does valuing these morals actually accomplish except placing an added burden on the oppressed?
Oof. For me, these are terrifying but necessary questions.
I cannot rationally explain forgiveness. I, like Nietzche, believe people are born as inherently not great people (I'm pretty sure I am in agreement with Nietzsche about this but I could be wrong, please let me know if I am). It is in our nature to hurt, lie, steal, cheat.
Therefore when we find examples where people manage to go against their natural instinct - to show compassion, to forgive, to pursue healing…even when it comes at a cost to themselves - this to me is strength.
And so where we find these examples of strength, the world must pay attention. In Rwanda, I saw this both in the life of the survivor, but also in other unexpected places - in the wife of a perpetrator, who dealt daily with the stigma of being a perpetrator's wife while caring alone for their family as he remains in prison. Furthermore, she had to work to pay the reparations for her husband's crimes…all the while reaching out to reconcile with his survivor. When I met her, she was hugging his survivor and they were calling each other "friend."
So Nietzsche, with all due respect (and truly I have respect for you because you continue to force people throughout the world and throughout generations to think through their belief system), I have to say that forgiveness is not weakness. Weakness is giving into our nature. And because forgivness is counter to our nature, it is strength.
Is forgiveness possible? Yes, I believe that it is. But how is it possible? Is it through - or outside of - religion, spirituality, or level of power within the context? Maybe we'll tackle that another day...
