Part Two: Forgiveness and Atonement: Role in Social Justice

Dilemma for Part Two:

Is punishment or atonement required for those who have benefited from oppressive systems; or can they be forgiven? What atonement is required for them to be forgiven?

Review of List of Navigation Strategies for Seemingly Intractable Conflicts, Differences, and Dilemmas

Gould Essay: The Necessity of Forgiveness in the Struggle for Freedom from Oppression

I answer this question by examining a rather sweeping argument about the role of forgiveness in overcoming oppression. Because of the wide scope of such an argument, I will simply be opening the discussion on this topic, rather than creating an exhaustive study of it. The purpose of this chapter is to suggest that forgiveness is necessary for freedom from three sorts of oppression: direct oppression, internalized oppression and counter-oppression. I make a case that forgiveness is necessary in overcoming each of these kinds of oppression and that it is required for true and final liberation from oppression—although it is certainly not the only element in that liberation. Furthermore, I suggest that ongoing practices of forgiveness protect us from new forms of oppression arising in our lives.

I also unpack the notion of forgiveness by suggesting that it is grounded in a sensitivity to the dehumanization of both oppressed and oppressor. Such sensitivity to this dehumanization encourages our compassion and motivates our acts of kindness. It also helps us resist hated and revenge. Interestingly, a kind of wonder, hope, and an anticipation of the unexpected may be at the root of our ability to resist the certainties that feed our hate and vengeance. I use the novel, The Color Purple, to illustrate how forgiveness works within the context of African American struggles for freedom. I also address a counter-argument against my view of the importance of forgiveness in liberation. In the conclusion of this chapter, I will show how forgiveness is particularly important in reversing re-traumatization that is sometimes caused by African American storytelling.

Direct Oppression

 I now turn to direct oppression as the first of the three kinds of oppression. Direct oppression exists when certain people hold power over other people on the grounds that the powerless group is unjustifiably deemed less worthy than the powerful group.  Oppression is rather obvious in the case of racism.  Patriarchal oppression is only somewhat more complicated by Aquinas’s rather weak justification of it as an “association of equals” protected by male strength and rationality (Aquinas date).  Parental power is based on a reasonable protection standard and, most importantly, does not turn on the unworthiness of children.  Society’s struggle against crime does suggest the unworthiness of criminals and the jailor’s power over them.  However, a criminal’s unworthiness seems to be justified by the due processes of law.  Interestingly, as we shall see later in this chapter, even a criminal’s worthiness may be redeemed through appropriate forgiveness.

Furthermore, in societies with huge differences in wealth and power, we tend to find members of the powerful group justifying their power by seeing those with less power as not being worthy of power.  All kinds of stories about the superiority of the powerful and the inferiority of the powerless are pervasive throughout societies with dramatic power disparities.  In general terms, the powerful view themselves as superior in all of the important ways.  They generally see themselves as dominant intellectually, organizationally, physically, aesthetically, spiritually, and morally.  The disempowered are seen as generally subordinate in all of these ways.  If a person of color has strength in any of the aforementioned ways, they might be seen as a kind of “honorary white person,” or exceptions to the general rule of inferiority.  They are celebrated in their exceptionality, not their commonality.  If these “exceptional” individuals do not support the status quo, they are easily deemed enemies of the state.  Martin Luther King’s criticism of the status quo turned him into an enemy of the state in the eyes of many in power.  In death, he is often misperceived as representing the completed liberation of Blacks–a useful fiction of the ongoing oppressive culture.  Certainly, we are familiar with these general terms of oppression.

Direct Oppression as the Unforgivable

In an important sense, direct oppression represents the unforgivable.  To forgive ongoing oppression is to grant it permission.  Such forgiveness would be the kind of “soft-headedness” decried by Martin Luther King.  We might suppose that such forgiveness would be like casting pearls before swine.   But King would warn us against thinking of anyone as swine.  If we consider the oppressor to be swine, we fail to have compassion and fail to see “people as people (King date, 5).” King would urge us to consider oppression unforgivable, but our particular oppressors are always potentially forgivable—even if they are justifiably found unworthy.

This forgiveness is based on the following two insights.  First, although to be oppressed is certainly dehumanizing, it is also dehumanizing to be an oppressor.  Those who are dehumanized—oppressed or oppressor–knowingly or not–seem to deserve our compassion and even, at times, our kindness.  Although it is easy to see that being oppressed can be awful, we often fail to see that being an oppressor is also, in an important way, awful, as an oppressor has arguably lost his or her humanity by being an oppressor.  With this view, retaining one’s humanity requires compassion and care towards victims of oppression, as well as a commitment to end oppression—freeing both oppressed and oppressor from their dehumanization.  This view could be defended in greater detail; but due to insufficient space, it will not be further explored here.

Secondly, out of our compassion for both victim and oppressor emerges the possibility of forgiveness.  Holding out hope that an oppressor will stop oppressing is also holding out the possibility of eventual forgiveness.  Oppressors can be motivated to change, at least partly, by the possibility of redemption and forgiveness.  In this way, compassion and the possibility of forgiveness help pave the way toward the transformation of oppressors into allies in the struggle for freedom.

Alternative to Turning Point Forgiveness

This possibility of forgiveness does not assume that forgiveness is necessarily a dramatic and instantaneous shift from unforgiveness to forgiveness.  Rather, forgiveness is often a lengthy process along a continuum from unforgiveness to forgiveness.  In this process, there may be unilateral gestures of apology and/or forgiveness, as well as bilateral exchanges of forgiveness responding to apology.

This dual response to oppression—unforgiveness toward oppression and forgiveness toward oppressor—is the lead-off idea in Martin Luther King’s 1963 book, Strength to Love.  King quotes Matthew 10:16, “Be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves. (King date, 1)”   In his overall case for the character of the true freedom fighter, King proceeds to support the character antitheses of tough-mindedness and tenderheartedness, while resisting soft-mindedness and hardheartedness.  Tough-mindedness suggests knowing when an act of oppression is unforgivable[i]—when we must not bend in our struggle to end it.  On the other hand, tenderheartedness suggests a forgiving and generous spirit that liberates us inwardly and in our relations with others.  Just as King encouraged us to have the character antitheses of tough-mindedness and tenderheartedness, I further suggest that we must have another set of character antitheses: righteous anger and bitterness about oppression, combined with compassion and the real possibility of generosity toward oppressors as human beings—the possibility of forgiveness.  Hatred holds no such possibility.  Admittedly, these character antitheses create some inner conflict; but role models like Martin Luther King can help us to develop a harmonious dual nature.

Internalized Oppression

Now we move to the second form of oppression: internalized oppression.  Arguably, this dynamic is more difficult to understand and overcome, as internalized oppression occurs when the oppressed accept their supposed inferiority.  By accepting this view of themselves, the oppressed begin to oppress themselves.  Tragically, this internalized oppression can be more dangerous than direct oppression because it is so self-destructive and difficult to overcome.  It generates self-hatred that can lead to a wide variety of self-destructive behaviors.  Those self-destructive behaviors are commonly understood as criminal and psychological, without an overt oppressive dimension.

Here is where stories of resistance and anger are so important.  They provide alternate ways for the powerless to see themselves.  Without these highly charged stories, the oppressed form an unchallenged negative view of themselves.  This negative view cuts in two ways.  First, it creates self-disrespect.  And second, it undermines respect for one’s peers—the necessary grounds for any political solidarity.

I suggest that self-forgiveness, for the harm one does to oneself, is the key to fully undo internalized oppression.  This self-forgiveness affirms the worth of the oppressed and stops the cycle of re-traumatization—the cycle of harm layered on harm.  Although anger towards the system of oppression is necessary and important, inner anger and bitterness is corrosive and toxic toward inner well-being.  In this way, I suggest a third set of character antitheses.  This set combines outer anger toward the system of oppression and inner forgiveness and peace.  Outer anger keeps us engaged in the struggle against oppression and the inner forgiveness and peace releases us from self-disrespect, inner bitterness and self-destructive tendencies brought on by internalized oppression.  Without the two additional sets of character antitheses, mentioned above, (anger toward oppression and compassion for both self and oppressor), stories of resistance and anger can easily turn into stories of revenge.

Counter Oppression

Counter-oppression is the third sort of oppression. This arises when revenge reverses the direct oppression story–where the old oppressors become the newly-victimized.  The oppressor becomes demonized in a mirror reflection of the demonized-oppressed.  Although counter-oppression can be understood as somewhat inevitable in the liberation of an oppressed group, it regrettably entails the evil of oppressing the previous oppressors.  This is most obvious in cases where one ethnic group has dominated another and then there is a revolution against the dominating ethnicity.  In Rwanda, the minority Tutsis dominated the majority Hutus under Belgian colonial rule.  After independence, massacres of Tutsis by Hutus continued from the 1960s into the 1990s (Staub and Pearlman 2001, 210).  Some would argue that this oppression was justified by the demonstrated unworthiness of the previous oppressors.  However, in historical accounts of liberations of oppressed groups, it is sometimes the case that previous oppressors renounce their attitudes and practices and seek forgiveness, as in South Africa at the end of apartheid.  In these cases, it seems that the urge toward revenge must by overcome by compassion and forgiveness.  Otherwise, brutality gains new life and liberation is reduced to a mere shift in power.

To overcome all three sorts of oppression and attain true liberation, the following three tasks must be accomplished: First, the structures of direct oppression must be dismantled.  Second, self-disrespect and the consequent peer-disrespect must be overcome.  And third, the practice of demonizing the oppressor or reversing oppression through revenge must be overcome.  These challenges must be undertaken in order to create a vision of a world without oppression.  How can all this be done?

The answer to this question is undoubtedly a long one—requiring much more space than this chapter.  Here, I am simply making the case that forgiveness is at the heart of this multiple process.  I argue that forgiveness has the power to regenerate self-respect, affirm solidarity with one’s peers, and create the foundation for a level of teamwork and community throughout society.  This sense of community-wide teamwork, including former oppressors and oppressed, creates the ground for a transformed society capable of eliminating all forms of structural oppression.  Obviously, forgiveness alone cannot revolutionize society; but I suggest that it is central and necessary.  I suggest that social transformation without forgiveness merely reorders the dynamics of oppression, self-disrespect and demonization.

Oppressor Self-Hatred

Another way to argue for the necessity of forgiveness in overcoming oppression is to explore how oppressors can learn to hate themselves through the very dynamics of oppression that are supposed to be in the oppressors’ self-interest.  This self-hate can undermine the advantages that oppression is supposed to generate.  Oppressor self-hate can occur through the reflexive counter-demonization of the oppressed.   In response to oppressor demonization, the oppressed sometimes counter-demonize the oppressed.  In European-American demonization of African Americans, black people often counter-demonize whites.  Often whites will internalize this counter-demonization, creating white self-hate; the oppressor is experiencing self-disrespect, just like the oppressed.  Oppressors with self-disrespect can turn to self-destructive or criminal acts since they have joined the ranks of the self-oppressed.  This dysfunction can also turn to racist violence.  The film American History X explores this white self-disrespect as skinhead racism.

What a tragedy!  Demonization—counter-demonization.  Internalized counter-demonization—strengthened bigotry.  It seems that almost everyone is vulnerable to feeling both self-disrespect and disrespect for everyone else!

Re-humanization

Therefore, the first step in the re-humanization of this dehumanized cesspool is forgiveness.  It is the first step because, without forgiveness, we are immobilized by hatred.  Hatred makes it impossible to work with the subjects of our hate—most importantly ourselves!  It seems that there is really no other choice than to forgive ourselves for our inner disrespect and for our demonization of our fellow humans.  From this forgiveness, we begin to find a basis to work with everyone around us toward the goal of a fully emancipated social order.  We may be tempted to deny our tendencies toward self-hate, demonization, and bigotry; but we must be aware of the consequent psychic damage and hypocrisy that can be created by these tendencies.

The Color Purple

It is precisely within this realm of psychic damage and hypocrisy resulting from layers of oppression that Alice Walker writes her novel, The Color Purple (1982).  I suggest that this novel shows how forgiveness can be a key part of black and non-black emancipation by addressing the underlying damage of layers of oppression.  Because The Color Purple is a controversial novel, I will say a few words to qualify my use of it here. This novel is primarily about the liberation of a woman named Celie from direct oppression, internalized oppression, and counter-oppression.  These sorts of oppression are manifested in the broad sweep of racism in the South, as well as in her intimately personal relationships.  However, her liberation follows and is mirrored in other male and female characters in the story as well.  Indeed, even the reader is offered this liberation.

The Color Purple has been the subject of a considerable amount of debate concerning its characterization of African American males.  It has been charged that Walker has contributed to an oppressive stereotype of African American males as domineering, violent, and lascivious.  It has been counter-charged that Walker has helped liberate African American females from hidden forms of domestic violence.  It is certainly plausible that there is truth on both sides of this debate.  It may be too glib to say that important works of fiction are rarely unproblematic.  Rather, it is probably safe to say that The Color Purple is both profoundly liberating, while in some ways troubling.  In its efforts toward gentle liberation, it may ironically be guilty of a kind of re-traumatization.  As important as this debate is, I do not engage it further in this chapter.  My purpose here is to use The Color Purple as an illustration of the unique value that forgiveness can have in African American and other forms of liberation.

In the first passage from The Color Purple, Walker illuminates how wonder, hope, and the possibility of the unexpected feed forgiveness and healing.  This is clearly again expressed in the following conversation between Celie and her former husband, Mr.________[ii].  At the end of the novel, he has undergone a dramatic transformation away from abusiveness—from a hateful person to a lovable person.

I think we are here to wonder, myself. [says Mr.________]  To wonder. To ast. And that in wondering bout the big things and asting bout the big things, you learn about the little ones, almost by accident. But you never know nothing more about the big things than you start out with.  The more I wonder, he say, the more I love. And people start to love you back, I bet, I say.  [Celie says] (Walker 1982, 239).

This interchange between Celie and Mr.________ is particularly extraordinary because Mr.________ was Celie’s domestic abuser.  However, he came to understand that he abused Celie because she was not his true love, Shug, and he felt sorrow for his behavior.  He came to understand how to love and how to resist hate through wonder.  In this sense, wonderment is accompanied by humility.  This uncertain wonder is interestingly contrasted to the certainty of hate.

Furthermore, Celie forgave Mr.________ through a dialogic process.  He earned Celie’s forgiveness because of his genuine transformation.  However, Celie’s forgiveness did not follow solely from his transformation.  It was also born of uncertain wonder.  She was not sure that she could hate Mr.________ after she had come to understand, and identify with, the rage he felt upon losing Shug.  Celie was experiencing the same rage when she lost Shug, as Shug was also her own true love.  In this way, Celie saw herself in Mr.________.

One could argue that Celie’s forgiveness of Mr.________ is facilitated by the fact that they are both African Americans victimized by the same oppressor, namely European Americans.  If her forgiveness is viewed as a type of solidarity against a common oppressor, this is undeniably true.  However, it is important to note how often an accommodation to domestic abuse might occur in order to preserve the appearance of solidarity.  This hypocritical solidarity seems to be precisely the issue that Alice Walker seeks to dramatize in this novel.

In addition to their reconciliation, there is also an interesting shift in both Celie’s and Mr.________’s identities.  They come to understand how both Shug and another friend, Sofie, have resisted the self-disrespect that is the hallmark of internalized oppression. Celie and Mr.________ are clearly both inspired by the example of these two women, as is illustrated in the following conversation:

Mr.________ ast me the other day what it is I love so much bout Shug.  He say he love her style.  He say to tell the truth, Shug act more manly than most men.  I mean she upright, honest.  Speak her mind and the devil take the hindmost, he say. You know Shug will fight, he say.  Just like Sofia.  She bound to live her life and be herself no matter what.

Mr.________ think all this is stuff men do.  But Harpo not like this, I tell him.  You not like this.     What Shug got is womanly it seem like to me.  Specially since she and Sofia the ones got it.

Sofia and Shug not like men, he say, but they not like women either (Walker 1982, 238).

Of course, this identity transformation also alludes to the radical notion that humanity freed from self-disrespect and oppressive gender roles is a new humanity indeed!  One could make the case that Walker’s vision in The Color Purple is just this sort of emancipated humanity where gender and race oppression, especially internalized gender and race oppression, yield to free relations where strength of character is an inspiration, not a domination.

A Case Against Forgiveness

It is now important to address an objection to the role of forgiveness in the pursuit of an emancipated social order.  In the following, I am borrowing the general form of an argument developed by Judith A. Boss (Boss date), who used this argument to oppose the use of forgiveness in cases of domestic violence, where such forgiveness helps maintain conditions of oppression.  The argument, with racism replacing domestic violence, goes like this:

Because of inequities in power in our society, African Americans are likely to be the victims of racial prejudice more often that non-African Americans.  Consequently, it is African Americans who are likely to be most often called upon to forgive.  Unconditional forgiveness of racial prejudice and the putting aside of feelings of resentment are often seen as a virtue and indicative of an exemplary moral character.  However, this conception of forgiveness cannot be morally justified.  Instead of being a virtue, unconditional forgiveness in the face of ongoing racism serves to maintain and perpetuate the current racist and oppressive structure of society.  (Boss date)

The first observation that we need to make about the above argument is that it appears that the notion of forgiveness is understood as primarily monologic.  The victim of racism is being asked to monologically forgive the offender.  I suggest that forgiveness should primarily be understood as dialogic.  In almost every case, there ideally needs to be a process where offenders take responsibility for their actions, show genuine remorse, and affirm a commitment to improve.  It is in such dialogic circumstances that forgiveness helps to further the purposes of empowerment, community and emancipation.

My second observation about the preceding argument is that in the absence or impossibility of such dialogue, a monological unconditional forgiveness does have the virtue of freeing the victim from endless bitterness and internalized oppression.  This unconditional forgiveness may not serve the purposes of general emancipation, but it can free a victim from this one dehumanizing aspect of racism.

The key claim in the above argument is that forgiveness can be like granting permission to racial prejudice.  This would be horribly wrong.  We never want to grant permission to racism in any way, especially in a way that masks itself as moral.  We can certainly imagine instances of forgiveness that do act like granting permission. If someone repeatedly insults a person, forgiveness can certainly seem to be granting permission–especially if that person does not seek help from others to help stop the insulting behavior.

Martin Luther King

In getting help from others in the struggle against racism, we can show our righteous anger and tough-mindedness, while not losing our tenderheartedness–without losing our self-respect, our love of others, or our strength to forgive.  Martin Luther King Jr. gave us many gifts–one of which is the challenge of character antitheses.  With King as our role model, we can find a way to be justly angry, yet not lose our compassion; we can demand accountability, yet not lose our capacity to forgive.   Indeed, it can be argued that compassion has two faces: one that reflects tough-mindedness and righteous anger, and the other that reflects tenderheartedness and forgiveness.

At this point, a word must be said about the distinction between forgiving evil and forgiving people.  Here, I focus on the role of forgiving oneself and others that can be found in The Color Purple.  I suggest that narratives of such inner and outer forgiveness can be liberating in the fullest sense.  However, I warn that we must be careful about how we understand forgiveness.  It can take the form of permissiveness toward evil, and this must be resisted.  In an important sense, oppression is unforgivable and to forgive it before it is eradicated is to give permission to it, making the forgiver a kind of collaborator in oppression.  But how can we know if our forgiveness is healing ourselves and our relations with others, or whether it is permitting evil?

My answer is that we will probably have to revert to uncertain wonder.  We may never know for sure whether we are making the right choice.  Again, certainty in these distinctions may only be possible for those who hate.  People who hate are good at making judgments and distinctions, being certain of them, and holding to them.  Unfortunately, this ability to be certain makes it hard to forgive.  Love and forgiveness seem to be much more of an affirmation of the difficulty of knowing how to think about others.  Other people are often full of surprises.

Role of African American Storytelling

In this final section of the paper, I want to comment on the role of African American storytelling in abolitionist and liberation work.  My contention is that these narratives work both for and against emancipation.  On the positive side of the ledger, slave narratives sensitize both African Americans and non-African Americans to the inhumanity of slavery and oppression.  Furthermore, the ongoing tragedy of certain elements of the African American experience is profoundly dramatized in contemporary storytelling.  Victimization is ugly, but the particularity of the seemingly endless African American victimization is more than ugly; it is horrific.  Slave narratives have evolved into contemporary stories of both inner and outer oppression and hatred.  These narratives can also contain messages of hope, freedom, and forgiveness—messages that pave the way to both political and personal liberation.

If there can be any downside to this story-telling tradition, it is the danger that these stories may re-traumatize African Americans.  They are hurt anew by being reminded of past trauma.  In turn, this re-traumatization can develop a picture of African Americans as perennial victims.  Worse, this re-traumatization can make the world look like nothing more than a drama between victims and victimizers, where the only escape from victimization is by being a victimizer.  As an example of this, several years ago I remember seeing a young African American female gang member on television saying that she was tired of being a victim and that her gang made it possible for her to be a victimizer.

1. Michelle Scott and V. Volkan explain this retraumatization dynamic in detail. In their study of the “transgenerational transmission of trauma,” they find that succeeding generations suffer “helplessness, shame, and humiliation” (Scott date, 1) as a result of the profound suffering of their ancestors. “When a whole society has undergone massive trauma, victimized adults may endure guilt and shame for not having protected their children (Volkan date, 42)”

The by-product of such trauma is a perennial, collective mourning over the loss of group dignity,                 self-esteem and identity.  The mourning is characterized by conscious and unconscious            communications passed down from generation to generation in an attempt to mourn the               group’s losses[.]  Volkan proposes that as transgenerational transmission of trauma occur, the        trauma is perpetuated as its shared mental representation and is deposited into the psyches of        subsequent generations, thereby impacting future generations with the same sense of                               helplessness, shame and humiliation experienced by the elders.  Ultimately, the large group                 shares a collective identity which is perpetually haunted and stifled by its “memories” of                victimization. (Scott date, 1-2)

In the contemporary African American community, Scott writes that “[t]here is a shame associated with acting black, a disdain for acting white, and an ambivalence associated with skin color; this suggests the lack of core identity or unified self (Scott date, 13).”  From this view of the transgenerational transmission of trauma, storytelling in the African American community can be both liberating and enslaving.  Speech professor Grace Sims Holt (1972) concludes that “[o]nce the physical chains are removed, language becomes the major vehicle for perpetuating the legitimation of the subsequent stages of oppression” (Scott date, 1-2).

It is in this concern about African American narrative (and I include gangsta rap music as a member of this narrative) that Alice Walker’s The Color Purple is particularly inspirational.  Celie, the central character, sees herself as a perennial victim until she meets Shug (a woman who eventually becomes Celie’s lover), who helps Celie understand how to move beyond a victim-identity by freeing herself from her inner image as ugly and incapable.  Celie also forgives her former husband, Mr.________, who has abused her, as she comes to understand how his humanity has been twisted in a similar way to her own.  They form a bond that was impossible before and they become more psychologically healthy.  In this way, a higher level of empowerment is achieved through inner and outer forgiveness, as well as the creation of positive self and other images.

In the face of hideous forms of oppression and inequity, a story like A Color Purple can be liberating and empowering.  If there are imperfections in this work of art, those weaknesses, along with the novel’s great strengths, create possibilities for future works of art to dare great things that give us a vision of transformed identities and relationships.

Summary

In this essay, I have made some observations about the role of forgiveness in addressing direct oppression, internalized oppression and counter oppression.  Most importantly, I suggest that forgiveness is an important first step in overcoming these forms of oppression.  The ability to forgive also provides a way to prevent future oppression by helping us resist the tendency toward demonizing those who harm us.  However, it is important to note that forgiveness must have a proper context.  That context is where the oppressed are afforded real opportunities for emancipation and where a significant number of oppressors seek genuine atonement.

Further Questions:

1. Should prisons be abolished?

 A strong case can be made for abolishing prisons because they represent the institutionalization of social and economic inequality and injustice. Certainly, there should be locked hospitals for the criminally insane, but everyone else should be rehabilitated without the humiliation and abuse of the prison system.

 2. Are rehabilitation, hospitalization, education, and guaranteed annual income workable alternatives to prisons?

 Yes, each of these positively address the social and economic systems that drive ongoing social injustice.

Certainly, there are social forces at play in the way some people are socialized to harm others, and social forces are at play to underestimate the suffering of victims. There is some truth to the saying that ‘hurt people hurt people, however, even within these social drivers, perpetrators do have some kind of choice—at least there should be a way for perpetrators to imagine a they could have avoided hurting others. Likewise, society has a deep responsibility for providing counseling and other services to victims, whose harm is often subsumed beneath the harm that law-breaking has done to the state.

This shift in framing troubling behavior as ‘crime and punishment’ to a framework of ‘restorative justice’ is not just for offenses that rise to the level of crime, but for misdeeds between people of such severity as to fracture friendships, working relationships, and family bonds. Ultimately, this chapter suggests that atonement and forgiveness processes should be available throughout the community, as well as the broader society.

With the future widespread availability of these atonement and forgiveness processes, we need to also create opportunities for education, employment, housing, and other services for both atoning perpetrators and forgiving victims, as a method of removing the social conditions that put people in the way of harm in the first place—both perpetrating harm and suffering harm.

Once these social resources are in place, we can then realistically imagine prison abolition, where the only people confined will be the criminally insane in locked psychiatric facilities. Everyone else is potentially redeemable, given the promise of restorative justice to recreate a social structure that nurtures its citizens, rather than put them at risk.