I've been musing a lot lately on two things: forgiveness, love, and Star Trek. Okay, three things.
In the early days after the Blowfish betrayal, I borrowed a book from the University library on forgiveness. I could not read it yet; I was not ready. But revisiting my favourite film franchise - Star Trek - has reminded me of my admiration for the calm, loving, and logical actions of its beloved character: Spock. I have read the book on forgiveness now and shall distill it for you. There are several ways you can try to process, and recover from, an act of wrongdoing against you. Forgiveness being the main, and yet most contentious way. Nietzsche's thoughts on forgiveness have merit: that a person who has done you wrong has disrespected you, and if you forgive them, you are agreeing with their low opinion of you. You are thus disrespecting yourself, and downplaying the seriousness of the injustice in favour of an easy life, free from resentment. Others see forgiveness more favourably: from the religiously indoctrinated to the "life coaches" who stand to make a quick buck from your pain, forgiveness is touted almost universally as both a morally admirable act, and a therapeutic one that benefits the forgiver even when it does not benefit the forgivee. The obvious question "How can it be both?" is tackled, and I think the answer was basically that it is neither. I stand closer to Nietzsche's perspective. If forgiveness can be freely and easily given, then the act of wrongdoing cannot have affected you that much. If you protest "Indeed it has!", and yet you forgive easily, I think Nietzsche is right: you are disrespecting yourself. Resentment is a natural and justifiable response to moral or legal crimes committed against you. Besides forgiveness, there are other ways to move forwards. Trying to understand the other person's perspective - which includes giving them a chance to present excuses, and assessing the validity of them. It also includes trying to stand in their shoes and imagining what you would have done. However, even if you realise, you might have acted the same way, it does not make that act morally justifiable. An important method is retributive justice - achieved through the courts. Most people prefer justice to revenge, but revenge is another option. Revenge can often be more brutal than the original crime, and people tend to turn to it when they are denied justice. Another way is simply for the resentment to fade over the passage of time, to the point where the survivor no longer cares. I have exhausted, discounted, or cannot yet achieve all of these options, which brings me back to forgiveness. As the book continues, it defines what forgiveness is and what it is not. It means you still acknowledge that the act was wrong, but reach a point where you do not resent the wrongdoer and you wish him well. Forgiveness sometimes goes hand-in-hand with reconciliation, but it does not have to. You may decide, for your own protection, that you want nothing more to do with the perpetrator. Forgiveness does not have to be sought, and the wrongdoer does not have to apologise (though it is much easier to forgive if he does). The survivor does not need to inform the wrongdoer that he has been forgiven. Under these definitions, I can almost say that I am ready to forgive - but for one thing. And it brings me back to Nietzsche's point about respect. I could forgive just about anyone who is sorry, and indeed have done so with a far worse perpetrator, but another perpetrator, still in Blowfish (whose actions actually wounded me more) is not sorry. He has not given me a sincere, unqualified apology, nor shown remorse through his actions. The only thing he has shown is fear, irritation, and a willingness to lie openly and brazenly. This behaviour is appalling to someone who has suffered immeasurably not only during the violence I was subjected to, but ever since. I wake in the morning and I think, “How can I get away from these people who have hurt me?”. And I cannot. One is just over the road. One is lurking at both my workplaces. Both people are in my head; unwelcome, but there nonetheless, diminishing every moment of potential joy. Such is the nature of PTSD. So I have come to a different destination: a conditional readiness to forgive. When or if my perpetrator becomes truly sorry, he will have my forgiveness. This is an act of love, a word that would terrify my perpetrator, for he does not understand it. As I have always held, love is not mysterious. It is simply affection for another being. There are not different types of love: one for your family, one for your friends, one for your romantic partner. It is all the same stuff, uncomplicated and pure. If you have enough of it, you would protect the other person above yourself, and that is exactly what I did for Blowfish in 2017. I showed immense loyalty, and was rewarded by being fired. I will never forget that, and I will have difficulties with trust for the rest of my life thanks to it. Nevertheless, I am a being of love, and like Spock, I aspire to calm, logical thought. Ergo, conditional forgiveness without reconciliation: the last favour that any remaining member of Blowfish shall ever get from Hollie Morrell.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Hollie's website has moved over to www.hollmorrell.uk. This site will now be maintained as a blog only.
Likes mangoes. Swims in unexpected places. Lives and breathes music. Archives
February 2018
Categories |