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PDF FormatPerhaps we can resolve this contradiction by claiming that not all offenders retain their humanity in the eyes of those offended, and that the Nazis are therefore perceived as not fully human (even if they in fact are). But this merely sets up another, even more serious contradiction, since it stands in direct opposition to Genesis 1:26, which holds that we are all made in the image and likeness of God. So, either we must reject the idea that the Nazis are “antimen,” thus opening up the moral freedom to forgive them, or we must reject an essential, ancient Hebrew teaching.
Benziman can perhaps salvage something here by stating that he did not mean to deny the humanity of the Nazis in an objective (i.e., metaphysically real) sense, but rather was simply stating an opinion (as opposed to positing a true-or-false premise). He hints as much when he writes, “We do not want them as part of the human race.” (Emphasis mine.) To be sure, this is considerably different from banishing the Nazis outright, yet it still denies (for whatever reason) the humanity of one, and only one, group of people—in this case, the Nazis. While this denial is subjective, relative, and particular, rather than objective, absolute, and universal, it still presents us with a serious political and social problem. For what prevents others from taking a similar stance toward other groups, such as those who suffered through the horror of the concentration camps? Consider the statement “We do not want them as part of the human race” in this context, and the problem becomes clear.
A possible rebuttal to my position on this matter might be to say that I have now turned the victim into the offender if she remains angry and refuses to forgive. That is to say, the victim is now the one with unacceptable thoughts about the wrongdoer. Let there be no misunderstanding me: The victim’s anger is not, in any way, a negative reflection on her, so long as that anger stays within reasonable bounds. When anger turns into resentment, however, the result can harm both the offender and the offended. This is precisely why forgiveness is so important: It can keep anger within the proper bounds and thus prevent vicious cycles of revenge.
In saying this, of course, I do not in any way condone the actions of the Nazis. Their actions were gravely wrong and always will be. Benziman asserts that a person can be defined, at least in part, by his actions; I wish to add my belief that even if we do define a person, in part, by her actions, we cannot define her exclusively on that basis.
It still seems to me that the safest position for human beings to take is the objective, absolute, and universal premise of Genesis 1:26, that we are all made in the image and likeness of God. If this is true, then anyone, by definition, may forgive, and anyone may be forgiven. If the Nazis (that is, the ones who are left, as they are passing away daily now) still pose a threat to us on account of the evil they committed in the past, then they certainly should not be considered part of our actual, here-and-now community. Moreover, we should strive to bring them to justice. But we must not make the subjectivist turn and, in our hearts and minds, exclude them from the human community altogether. This is a danger we cannot afford to take.
The beauty of bearing pain, even if we do it alone, is that we do not pass it on to others, such as our families and especially our children. Allen Bergin tells us that if we can find it within ourselves to bear the pain of the burden imposed upon us, we can become a conduit for good for the next generation.10 In my own work with children in Belfast, Northern Ireland, my colleagues and I are hoping that years of forgiveness education will lead to just such a bearing of pain by both British Protestant and Irish Catholic children, so that when they grow up, they will be philosophically, psychologically, and theologically sophisticated forgivers, capable of taking the long view and perceiving the true purpose of forgiveness.11 With this foundation in place, perhaps their divided community will also be capable of envisioning a future of justice for all. It is our hope that people on both sides will decide to bear the pain of thousands of iniquities accumulated over hundreds of years. It is our hope that they will share this pain together, as Benziman so eloquently puts it: Not to forget, but to move on together, both forgiver and forgiven, each bearing the consequences of the injustice committed. It is our hope that they will do this precisely because they have learned from the Jewish tradition that we are all made in the image and likeness of God.
Robert Enright is a professor of educational psychology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and a founding member of the International Forgiveness Institute in Madison.
