AUG 6 — There is a Japanese roof garden at my university that I love to frequent. Wonderfully designed, I find it a place of solitude — to retreat from the pressures of city life. Despite students numbering around 5,000 people, I find myself always alone whenever I make my pilgrimage to the sanctuary. The theme of the garden is forgiveness.

Ever since I was at law school, I was always fascinated with forgiveness. I was so obsessed with it that I selected my dissertation topic on the concept of forgiveness within the context of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The magnanimity that was displayed by figureheads like Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu is a testament of their immaculateness.

The notion that human beings are inherently evil and thus require legal institutions to regulate our behaviour is disturbing. It is something that has confounded me. However, I think the capacity to forgive transgressions by the Other dilutes this notion. If we can unconditionally forgive, truly it means that we’re not that evil, right?

A common ritual during Hari Raya is to ask for forgiveness. We hear the calls of “Maaf Zahir Dan Batin” encapsulated into catchy sound bites and broadcast incessantly. Forgiveness is asked from our family members and peers while duit raya is gleefully received.

Sometimes I feel that forgiveness has been emptied of its meaning. It’s merely something to repeat after one month of fasting. Disingenuously, I accumulate infractions and verbalise it in blanket terms when I ask for forgiveness from my elders during Hari Raya.

Forgiveness is essentially the exit of ressentiment. Once we proclaim that we forgive a person, hostility and frustration on our part dissipates. Asking for forgiveness has the potential of diffusing tension but forgiveness is what ensures the diffusion. If a person still has ressentiment after forgiveness, it isn’t forgiveness at all.

If someone keeps enunciating the phrase “I forgive but I don’t forget” to others, it serves to confirm that that some level of ressentiment still exists. Any mention of the infraction must be extinguished.

The French post-structuralist philosopher Jacques Derrida claimed that forgiveness is an aporia. Pure forgiveness is impossible. In his illuminating essay “On Forgiveness”, Derrida makes the claim that forgiveness only forgives the unforgivable. If an offence is forgivable, then it isn’t forgiveness.

This is because anyone can forgive what is forgivable. The burden is too light and not unbearably heavy. The unforgivable is the only thing that is worthy of being forgiven.  What is then unforgivable? “Mortal sin,” answers Derrida signifying the graveness of a transgression. Within the essay he deals with crimes against humanity and genocide. So I guess you get the idea.

Derrida further argues that for forgiveness to have any meaning, it must not be to achieve a certain result. If we forgive to diffuse tension, for monetary benefits or even for peace of mind it ceases to be forgiveness. You can call it pardon, amnesty or even reconciliation but it isn’t forgiveness. Forgiveness is unconditional and is not calculative. We must expect nothing in return.

Do we forgive something (an act, a fault, etc) or do we forgive someone (categorically forgive the person)? Unconditional forgiveness involves forgiving the Other and not the thing of the Other. If we forgive the person, we absolve the Other of his sins in totality. It must happen without calculation. But if we forgive the action, we consider whether the action is worthy of our forgiveness. The latter makes forgiveness lose its lustre because we evaluate the action, which is part of the Other.

We must not wait for another to apologise or a third-party intervention in order for us to forgive. Forgiveness must come from within without any external considerations. Derrida concludes by saying that only the mad and irrational are capable of transcending all constraints to be able to forgive. Such is the paradox of forgiveness.

I’d like to think that forgiveness should not be a means to an end. If we instrumentalise forgiveness for a “higher” goal, forgiveness is put in an inferior position as compared that “higher” goal. Forgiveness is gratified momentarily. Once the goal is achieved, forgiveness is discarded. We indulge in our peace of mind or reconciliation and stop to think of forgiveness. Here, forgiveness is like a boat used to cross a river. Once we arrive at our destination (the end), the boat is left. This is not true forgiveness.

Forgiveness should be the means and the end itself. If we forgive the person for the sake of forgiveness alone, that is pure forgiveness. We might feel better about ourselves. We might make peace. But these are concomitants and not the main goal that we should have in mind when we bestow forgiveness.

It would be a form of moral self-indulgence for me to tell others that they should forgive. I myself don’t think I’ll be able to forgive a person who murders a loved one. Nevertheless this is what forgiveness is and it is an ideal that we should aspire to.

Look around you and you will see anger for the smallest of infractions. Can you find it in yourself to pardon them? If you think these infractions are unforgivable, could you then forgive the Other?

Selamat Hari Raya, Maaf Zahir dan Batin.

*Aerie Rahman is a master’s student at the School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London.

* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malay Mail Online.